(I know, how can you handle the DOUBLE posting?)(it’s not a glitch in the matrix)(I can’t believe I just quoted that)
If you’re having any problems with error message or see any obvious problems with my new design, could you send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org? The comments ARE being posted, but there was some sort of redirect screen in place when certain people posted.
(don’t ask me, I just write here)
Hi Aunt Becky.
I would have put an exclamation point after my greeting, but I’m in such a funk- that I can’t even type excitedly.
My second daughter is just over 2 months old. She’s positively amazing and her 8 year old sister is a wonderful helper. My husband also does his best to try and help too. The problem is, as great as things are, I can’t stop crying or feeling like garbage. I don’t even want to talk to my best friend (frankly, she’s starting to annoy me) and that, in itself tells me something is up.
All I want to do is lay in bed or on the couch and do nothing. It’s hard to do when you have a newborn to deal with. All the nighttime feedings, colic, growth spurts and so on are starting to wear me down. I literally dream about running away for a few days, just to be alone.
I think I need to get help. I have absolutely nothing to be upset about and yet, I walk around like someone ran over my puppies.
The thing is, I feel like I should be able to just get over it. It should just pass like all the other ridiculous phases I’ve seen. I feel like I’m letting everyone down by having to go to the doctor for it. My husband seems to think that all I need to do is take a walk and get some fresh air. I know he wants me to feel better, but I don’t think he truly understands the way I feel.
Does it make me a bad person to have to go to the doc? What if he suggests medications?
Desperate, Depressed Momma
Oh Prankster, I’m willing to bet that 150% of us are nodding are heads while we read this (parents or not) because that’s the thing about any sort of depression: that pervasive feeling of “why the shit can’t I just SNAP out of it?” I call it the “Other People Have No Feet Syndrome” i.e. “how can I possibly be sad when other people have no feet?”
It’s also bullshit.
It doesn’t matter why you feel the way you feel, what matters is that you feel the way you feel, and I’m saying that as firmly as possible. Anyone who tells you to “buck up” should be told so “shut the fuck up” because it doesn’t matter how good you have it if you feel like your dog just got run over 95% of the time (assuming your dog is, in fact, alive and well).
I had pre-AND post-partum depression (prepartum depression would be depression WHILE pregnant) and it didn’t matter how joyful I was about having any of my babies, I was miserable. A lot of it was hormonal because pregnancy is kind of a motherfucker on the body, but really, it didn’t matter one way or another WHY, it mattered that it was happening.
I reasoned it away with “it’ll get better” for probably 8 or so months.
Probably the stupidest decision of my life because you know what? IT DIDN’T GET BETTER. I wasn’t ready to drive my kid off a bridge, but I certainly had thoughts of how best to kill myself. I’m not proud to admit it, but it’s true.
Once I admitted to myself that I was, in fact, fucking miserable and made the call to the doctor, you know what? I FELT BETTER because I’d finally admitted that I had a problem.
Smartest decision I ever made for myself and for my family, all of whom prefer me as a non-depressed person.
So no, absolutely not, I don’t think there’s any reason to feel like you’re letting yourself or your family down by going to the doctor. Your husband clearly doesn’t understand why you feel the way you feel because he’s never experienced it. He’s well-meaning, but he’s clueless and that’s okay. Dave told me to “get a hobby” after I had a miscarriage, like that was going to make me feel better. Shockingly, I threw a lamp at his head.
Go to the doctor, Prankster, and if see what he or she has to say about it all. I started taking some Vitamin W (Wellbutrin) and trust me when I tell you that it saved my sanity. Your mental health is every bit as important as your physical health and there’s no shame in anti-depressants.
Make the appointment and go and see your doctor, please. You deserve to be happy. You’ll find your happy place again, I promise. And soon, the light will be back inside you.
Lots of love to you, Prankster. There’s never any shame in taking care of yourself, ever. You matter too.
Pranksters, I know many of you have struggled with post-partum depression (or just plain old depression), too, because I’ve shared my struggles, and you’ve talked about your own. If you have any advice for this Prankster, please share. I separated the posts today deliberately so that you could talk to each of these Pranksters individually.
This Prankster could use your some love and some advice if you have any to offer.