It’s hard to admit that I am struggling with postpartum depression, because it seems like a failure in many regards, even though logically I know it’s not.
It feels terrible that I am saddest when I am alone with my kids, but it’s the truth most of the time.
Often I don’t feel like myself, I just feel heavy.
Thankfully, I’m not in that space the entirety of the day. When I am making, expressing, connecting, moving, teaching, writing – things are exponentially better. But the pain comes in when I feel like I have no time to tend to my heart and everyone’s needs must be met before my own.
It took a while to come to terms that I was depressed. I just figured things were hard, and that’s how they are with two small children. I remained in the doing and overcoming. I would get really low, and eventually climb back up to myself. Once I felt OK, I was certain the hard stuff was behind me… until I went through that same exhausting cycle a week or two later.
Then I got shingles, and I slowly realized the amount of stress I was under for my body to surrender and say : something has to change.
Our pediatrician suggested I talk to a therapist, I reluctantly listened. Once I found out I was depressed I immediately tried to overcome it. I wanted to put it behind me and feel whole again, complete, put back together.
Now, I’ve softened enough to just sit with it, even though I feel like pieces of me are scattered upon the kitchen floor and I can’t for the life of me find the time or the energy to place them back together. It’s hard.
I continuously have to recall : It’s not my fault.
And I’m trusting it is a door into something deeper, a crying out for deep compassion + forgiveness.
I am constantly lighting candles as I ask for help + guidance from beyond. I’m writing in the name of healing. I’m fiercely creating to calm my heart. I’ve asked for more support, and have graciously received it. When I’m focused on the light I can feel + notice my prayers being answered. \
The trick for me, right now, is returning to the light.