Dear Postpartum Depression
My name is Chantal and I’m a 24-year old mom living in Oregon. I am the creator of Blogdacious, a blog focused on empowering women to be successful in all areas of life. I don’t believe in choosing between family and career success. I want it all! Unfortunately, depression has haunted me off and on in my life. But nothing has been worse than the hormonal storm of the baby blues turned Post-Partum Depression.
Dear Postpartum Depression,
In the summer of 2014, depression killed Robin Williams and a local stay-at-home mom in my town. At that point in time, I understood them. I felt for them. I envied them.
It’s your fault, you know.
You made me unable to look into my baby’s eyes and feel the love and happiness I was supposed to be feeling. You made me feel guilty for being unhappy and exhausted. You made me feel ugly, unwanted, and useless. You made me feel like I wasn’t needed on this earth, despite the fact that my baby was lying next to me, helplessly. You made my eyes and my heart glaze over, and you made me miss out on precious moments with my daughter. You made me angry at my husband (I’m so grateful he’s still here). You made me cry. You made me indifferent and apathetic.
People began to worry about me and check in on me. People told me that I needed to go to the doctor, but you know how stubborn I can be. Thankfully, in a moment of clarity, I put my foot down because I am strong. I got help, despite my feelings of inadequacy and the terrifying thought of taking medication. It might have taken me a whole year or more, but I’ve kicked your ass out and there’s no soliciting here. Look where I am now!
My relationships have never been better, I’m finally doing what I want, AND I’m kicking ass at this stay-at-home-mom gig. I’m not punching inanimate objects in fits of rage, I’m not feeling sorry for myself, and I LOVE being me. Yeah, I can always use some work. But at least I’m not hanging out with you anymore. I’m not stand-offish, and when I drive places, I don’t think about driving into oncoming traffic. I can love at full capacity, and I’m not afraid to let myself be loved back. You’re a monster. But you’re not MY monster anymore.