Their Bad Mother

I’ve been struggling with depression. I’m always struggling with depression, in some respects, but it feels harder, these days. My husband asks me if I’m sad, and I tell him no, because depression is different from sadness, but there’s an element of it there. I’m struggling with depression, in part, because I’ve been struggling with so much grief, and the work of grief has worn me down and I’m tired. I’m more vulnerable to depression when I’m tired. Most people are, I think. Just one reason why new moms are so vulnerable to it. So little sleep, so much stress – it’s a challenging combination.

I’m not sure what to do about it. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen my psychiatrist, and I’m not keen to go back. Not for any good reason, really, other than that the idea of talking about what I’m experiencing makes my anxiety worse. I don’t like to talk about my feelings. Write about them, sure. But talk? Ugh. Ugh.

I’m not sure what I’ll do to get through this. Get outside, get some air, breathe. Reflect upon the joy that my children bring me. There’s always that.

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And then, maybe, call the doctor.

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