Five years ago I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love with the kind of voracity and appetite I used once upon a time to devour Baby Sitter’s Club books. There was one passage in the memoir that really spoke to me the first time I read it.
Gilbert is in Italy and she talks about depression being a physical presence in her life, tangible almost, following her home in the evenings, sitting in the chair in her bedroom. This shadow in her life she can’t seem to shake.
When I read that part of her story, I felt that. I felt those words. I remembered the times I was alone but not alone. And this was all before I had Joshua and postpartum depression entered my life.
Since reading that novel, I’ve sort of looked at Depression (capital D, proper noun) as an old lover. An unhealthy relationship I knew I shouldn’t be in but felt powerless to get out of. Depression has taught me what I’m capable of, how strong I am, so for that, I owe it a certain amount of thanks, I guess. But I don’t long for the days when we were together.
About eight months ago I heard this song on the radio and I was moved by its haunting melody and lyrics. The moody sadness that ran as an undercurrent through the song. I loved it. Instantly. Madly. Loved the song. And then I couldn’t remember what the song was.
Until recently.
The song has been in heavy rotation on the stations of my XM Radio. I hear it everywhere I go and I’m in love with its beauty. And oddly comforted by its quiet power. And then I started really paying attention to it and listening with my heart through the lens of postpartum depression and my recovery.
I know I can’t take one more step towards you
Cause all that’s waiting is regret
And don’t you know I’m not your ghost anymore?
You lost the love
I loved the most
There’s a constant push-pull with postpartum depression, just like the push-pull of an unhealthy relationship. When I feel myself falling back into that bit of despair, I have to sometimes consciously pull myself away. Despair is easy. Depression, being depressed, is easy. Being in the relationship you know is bad for you is easy.
It’s hard and courageous and exhausting to take every ounce of my being and rebel against it and say “I’m not your ghost anymore.”
I learned to live, half-alive
And now you want me one more time
I don’t even know if those two lines could more accurately describe and define what it’s like to try to live with postpartum depression. With Depression. I don’t want to live half a life again. None of the mothers I know want to live half alive.
And there again is that push-pull. That back-and-forth.
Who do you think you are?
Runnin’ round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Who do you think you are?
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This is it.
This is Depression personified.
Seemingly all-powerful, greedy to collect the hearts and happiness of those it seeks to destroy. Cold. Angry. Painful. Mean-spirited. Not caring who is destroyed in the process.
I hear you’re asking all around
If I am anywhere to be found
But I have grown too strong
To ever fall back in your arms
And I learned to live, half-alive
And now you want me one more time
Because I feel better–whole–now, I feel like Depression is waiting around a corner, checking up on me. Seeking for an opportunity to sneak back into my life.
Knowing that I have a history of depression and now postpartum depression, the idea of going through this battle again with a future child is daunting. Absolutely gut-wrenchingly daunting.
And yet I must cling to the hope that I HAVE grown too strong. That I can beat this. Again. Or a thousand times over again. That I and my family are worth it. That our dreams are worth it.
Dear, it took so long just to feel alright
Remember how to put back the light in my eyes
I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed
Cause you broke all your promises
And now you’re back
You don’t get to get me back
It has taken so long to feel normal. To feel good. To feel like me.
And there IS a light in my eyes now. And in my heart. There is joy in my soul again.
Depression doesn’t get to get me back. Even if it does come back the next time around.
Next time, I’m ready.
Wow! Half-alive completely describes it. I can also totally relate to depression being a ghost in my life. Love this post!
It’s weird to feel alive after being half alive for so long. But I love it.
Oh Wow…I listen to this song all the time ~and feel its words! I’ve often wondered why I have such a connection to this song…now I know why…I can so relate ~thank you for putting it into words. I found your blog after seeing this post tweeted.
I am so glad that I found your blog ~I really needed to read this!
I’m so glad you found my blog, too.
I just heard this song for the first time the other day and didn’t hear it through this lens, but you’re right. That’s exactly it.
What you’ve described is perfect. I’m not there yet but I’m getting there.
xoxo
You’ll get there, friend. I know you will.
Miranda,
Thank you for this post. Thank you for sharing your strength.
–Liz
You’re welcome, Liz.
Very powerful! Thank you for this gift
You’re so welcome!
Yes.
I’m sitting here and waiting for the other shoe to drop, almost more anxious because I’m not anxious enough. I’ve only had a few days now with the light back in my life. Only a few days feeling like the weight is off my chest and I can breathe. I’m starting to tune into my life and the people in it more than I have in years, and it’s scary. It is wonderfully frightening, and I hope that I can keep this strength.
I’ve never heard this song (or anything that isn’t made for kids lately), but I love it, and I think I needed to hear it. Thank you.
I know what that’s like. To wonder when the bad is coming back after the string of really awesome. You can do this, Jenn. And I’m here if you need me, you know? Any time you need me.
You are a beautiful, strong woman.
Awww, shucks.
::blushes::
Thanks, you.
Thanks for sharing this song with us Momma. Love you
Love you, too, Kim.
so glad you are feeling better. i hear ya about the ‘lurker’ though. i’m always scared it’s going to pounce when i least expect it! thanks for these words.
love you!
I am scared, but I know that there’s an army of moms behind me next time, so that offers courage and hope.
Boom goes the dynamite.
This is lovely.
And you are so right. Depression is a total creeper that won’t go away. Can we get a restraining order?
BOOM indeed. And yes, a restraining order sounds fab.
I was first diagnosed with depression (and anxiety) when I was 15, but I’m certain that I had it since at least age 13. It’s so hard to explain to someone who has never lived with it, and even sometimes when talking to others who have had it because our experiences all differ so much.
You’re right. It is. It’s totally hard to explain to anyone. Depression is so personal, you know? But I think we owe it to ourselves and to others who may not know what to call what they’re feeling to talk about it. To start a dialogue and let people know there’s help if they need and want it.
Thank you! When I can’t find the words to explain how I am feeling you placed them! Thank you!!
You’re welcome!
Wow….this is so perfectly worded.
My PPD was so bad with my first that when I came out I felt like I had finally woken up. Now with my third, a year after a miscarriage I am teetering on the edge and I feel that pull and you are right it is so easy, SO much easier to just fall in and let it encompass me…
Thank you
RIGHT ON!!
Just knocked chair over..
Glad you liked it!