Monday, September 20, 2004

'Fessing up. I have post-partum depression. It started after Sophie was born, and never really had a chance to get better once I got pregnant with the twins. It has been getting a tiny bit better, every day, and it's been very hard for me to say anything to anyone since I have this reputation for being such an optimistic person. I'm still optimistic, it's just very very hard to remember that, some days. Someone recently wrote about how people seem to be trying to drag her down and not share in her successes. I have felt the opposite - everyone seems to want me to be this happy, lovely super-artist-mom that's always inspiring and wonderful. So I have been afraid to share my depression. Every time I wrote about being down, I'd get an email saying how I needed to look at how wonderful my life was and how deleriously happy they would be to be in my shoes. I felt guilty for feeling so amazingly bad when I had three children and some had none. I felt ashamed when I read Dooce's journal, because my depression didn't manifest itself the same way hers did and so somehow I couldn't call this PPD because I wasn't checking myself into a hospital like she did. Trust me, the more I read books and articles on the subject, the more I see myself in the pages. I am not on medication. I am not seeing a doctor. I will if I feel I need to. For now, I need to talk about it, and to let the people close to me know about it. If they really love me, they'll understand. Some have probably already figured it out. I honestly thought at one point in time that I would never smile or laugh or sing again. I'm doing more of both now. And I'm starting to do little things; like painting, like making my 33 list, like admitting I'm not capable of doing and being everything for everyone all the time. It's awfully slow, but I'm getting there.

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