Postpartum Depression: Intro

It’s hard to believe that it has been almost an entire year since I first thought I had Postpartum Depression (PPD). Today it seems so hard to believe I really went through all of it, but I did. I promised myself and many of you that when I was out of it all, I'd share the journey with you.

It was a horrible year of my life.

Depression sucks. 

Depression suffocates. 

Depression isolates. 

Depression darkens. 

Depression lies. 

Depression changes you. 

And depression is a battle. A hidden battle that most in your life may never even know you are waging war with daily, hourly, minute by minute. 

When I first came out of the PPD closet was in a silly little series on my blog {that I don’t think I even finished… another awesome side effect of depression}. I shared a small peak into my life that just a few knew: “All About Me: Chalkboard Markers & Anti-Depressants.” I was stunned by the amount of emails, texts and people pulling me aside saying, “Thank you for sharing that you have depression, I thought it was just me.” Or, “I’ve thought forever I could have this too, I’ve just been to scared to tell anyone. Thank you.” And those responses intensified even more after my post, “Do I have Postpartum Depression” over at Houston Moms Blog went up. 

I never wanted to be a spokesperson for this topic. Pride, ugly ugly pride. I took pride in my ability to self help and think positively and work my way through hard times. I was really really really awesome at that. And it wasn’t that my life was all rosy. Life trained me up to be a fighter. And so I truly thought I would be immune to the weak one’s diagnosis of depression. 

I was such an idiot. That’s a little harsh. I was so so so naive. 

Well I’m not naive anymore. And I’m so grateful to share my journey through this now. I love that a really horrible year of my life can be used for good. 

My hope and prayer in all of this is that you, dear reader, would feel like I’m sitting on the couch next to you. You’ve just come over. The kids are all tucked in (bedtime is a beautiful time of day). I’ve poured you a glass of wine or a cup of decaf coffee if you prefer. You have tears streaming down your face or maybe you just are numb and you whisper, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me? Is this normal?” And I weep with you, as I am now with tears streaming down my face this moment and I say, “No. And yes.” And I’ll share my story. And you’ll listen to as much as you want. And after that you can choose what you do. 

My other hope and prayer in all of this is that for those of you, friends, family or spouses, who know someone that sounds a bit like me, that you’d send this to them if they’d read it. Or that it would inspire you to fight with them. We need others to fight with us when we have no fight left. 

My final hope and prayer in all of this is for those that don’t currently deal with this that you’d read every word too. That maybe hearing the story would give you the compassion you need towards this topic. It’s strange how many of us have such a strong opinion about something we really know nothing about. I hope that this softens you. 

To make sure you stay in the loop on new posts, submit your email to the left and you’ll be all subscribed to receive post updates.And please share this. I hardly ever ask my readers to share my stuff because it seems weird to self promote a blog. But this isn't self promoting at all. I want this post to blow up way more than the "What NOT to say to young Moms" post did. Thank you for joining the fight with me. Much love to you!