Anxiety began creeping into my chest and through my thoughts. How would I explain it to him? Surely he would think I was unfit to be a mother. Through my tears I could barely speak. With as few words as possible I explained how I felt. Though I didn’t consider myself suicidal, I didn’t feel any reason for living. The world was dark and sad.
My doctor was caring and as understanding as anyone who has never suffered from PPD could be. I was given a prescription and referred to a counselor.
Not a week into the medicine, I flushed them down the toilet. I didn’t think it was for me. In fact I hated the medicine and was ashamed.
I was terribly embarrassed to drive into the counselors parking lot. Of course someone I knew would see me and know how awful I was for needing counseling. Two visits into seeing the counselor…. I quit.
Through my first delivery and my daughter’s first year of life I told myself I could do this on my own. I didn’t see anyone else complaining so I should dry my tears and pull myself together. I tried to eat healthier and take vitamins. I just knew that exercising would help as well. I avoided music as it brought me down. It didn’t matter if the music was slow or upbeat, it all made me unhappy. I found reason in everything to be let down with life and angry at those enjoying it.
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