So I’ve been MIA lately. I’d like to day it’s the holidays or something, but it’s not. It’s just me. I finally called a doctor about all this. I’m still in denial about the whole deal; I don’t want to believe that I’m having issues with PPD (or any form of depression for that matter). I’m not sure what it is about me that makes me feel like there’s something wrong with asking help on this, but I do have a really hard time doing just that. My family isn’t a huge help on this front. My mom has been known to tell me to “snap out of it” and “just get over it” in the past. But I have also had such bad depressive episodes that she was has been the person to drag me to the doctor (one time). Sso she’s a walking contradiction, what’s new? I think her (and my extended family’s) response to this is a lot of where my problem with asking from help comes from. I feel like I have to be a sobbing puddle before I warrant medical intervention; of course, by that time I’m not really capable of asking for it anymore. Right now I’d describe my situation this way: I vacillate between feeling overwhelmed, anxious, indifferent and very recently incredibly sad. Sad is scary to me. Sad is downward spiral stuff. Right now, I feel very bleak. My whole life just feels bleak. That’s not to say I don’t have happy moments, it’s just that the negative emotions have started to outnumber the positive ones and I think that’s a clue to get some help.
Keep your fingers crossed for me, last time I couldn’t get into this therapist for months. The one I had to “settle” for was less then stellar and honestly I think I mostly worked out my depression on my own last time.
On a positive note (Yes, I do have one occasionally these days) BS is doing much, much better. She just seems happier & more comfortable. And she’s SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT, still. She’s babbling a lot and seems to be associating “mamamamama” with me and “dadadadada” with DS. So smart. Wink.