Postpartum Depression

I recognise the signs. I have been down this road in the past. The footsteps lead into a wild overgrown jungle. I know I need to follow the path carefully to emerge safely on the the other side.

My thoughts are racing. My mind in chaos. My heart a mess.

I am slipping. Falling into a big black hole. The hole is filled with quicksand. The more I struggle the more I sink. I need to calm down.

I block my ears, close my eyes. Breathe in, Breathe out. I try and put a name to my emotions, identify my feelings. They are buried to deep. I can not reach them. 

I wake up in the morning tired, frightened of the nightmares that have terrorised my sleep.
I hear my husband talking my mind drifts I can not concentrate. Focus I tell myself. It is to hard. I give up.
I look at the food in front of me. I have no appetite. I have lost the desire to eat.

I want to flee. Distract myself. Lose myself in old addictions. They beckon me to take comfort in their familiarity. My mind rebels it knows the pleasure is short lived, temporary. Self hate and guilt follow. It will only make me feel worse. 

I look at the old scars. They are faint now but they force me to stay grounded. I allow myself to cry release some of the pent up emotions.

Sometimes I wish I could run away and leave myself behind. Step out of my body. Escape the fogginess of my mind.

I wish that just for one day I could be someone else.

Just one day to know what it feels like to be normal.
One day to get up without the hole in my heart.
One day to leave the self hate and the guilt behind.
One day to wake up refreshed from a good nights sleep.
One day to know what it feels like to have a mothers love.
One day to be without memories.

Just one day that I can accept who I am.
One day that I can reach beyond my flaws.
One day that I am not hiding parts of me away.
One day that I am not fighting the pull of the dark side.
One day that my inside and outside match.
One day that I am not scared to face the world.

Just one day that feeling good is not just my imagination.

But I need to stop dreaming. I need to focus on the reality. I need to search in order to find the answers I so desire. 

Step One: Put my pride aside. Admit I have postpartum depression.
Step two: Rid myself the feeling that there was something I could have done to prevent it. This was not a test of my strength.
Step three: Make an appointment at the doctor. Anti depressants if necessary.
Step four: Talk to my therapist.

Maybe if I follow these steps I can climb out of the pit I have found myself in. Pick up the scattered pieces of my world that is disintegrating around me.

I know I can do this. It will only make me stronger. It will only help me be better mother for my daughter.