My Postpartum Mood Disorders – Nine Years Later

Confession Time – Last week the ghosts of October took over my life for four days.  Getting out of bed was a task equal to climbing Mount Everest.  It took all my energy to drive my daughter the half mile to school and pick her up at the end of the day.  Showering?  Forget it.  It would require getting out of bed.  Food?  If it weren’t for the jar of peanuts and leftover pizza from the weekend, I don’t know what I would have eaten.  Of course, there’s always take out.  Except the task of finding the number, my credit card and dialing the restaurant was too hard.  Not to mention, it’s twelve steps from my bed to the front door, eleven more than I could make to open the door when the food arrived.

The first day the darkness creeped in was the twelfth, the anniversary of my Mom’s death.  It happens every year; but not to this extent.  I self-talk weeks before promising myself this year will be different.  It never is; but this year the self-talk backfired more than ever.

On the ninth my daughter turned nine.  It’s always a bittersweet day for me.  I’m amazed at the vibrant, compassionate girl she’s become.  But my heart breaks to think of the times I missed her first year of life.  Postpartum Mood Disorders took over my life.  Yes, disorders is not a grammar mistake.  It’s plural because my illness was severe filled with. . .  depression, anxiety, ocd, and psychosis.  It’s a miracle I’m here today.

There’s more to come but I’m still recovering.  A nap in the sunshine is today’s prescription along with the increased dose of Prozac started this week.

 

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