my name is kiranda.
and i suffer from post partum depression.
there. i said it.
now before you raise your eyebrows and run away screaming or pretend you don't know me or even before you plaster a fake smile across your face and say, "aww it's ok" but all the while have mean judgements passing in your head...just give me a minute to explain.
fact #1- i don't think my children are demons.
i don't hate them them. not one bit. nor do i have daydreams and fantasies about harming them in any way. in fact, it's totally the opposite. even when they're at "their worst" i still want to comfort them and love on them. and they still make me the happiest woman ever. sometimes their crying does irk my nerves, but that's usually due to them crying over and over all night long or something drastic like that. still, i never want them to hurt or be harmed. never.
fact #2- i don't want to harm my husband or myself either.
trust me- no matter how bad it gets you'll never see a murder/suicide coming from my neck of the woods. i promise.
fact #3- i don't walk around with a cloud above my head all of the time.
for the most part, i'm a sunny individual. i love to laugh and smile and have a good time. so it's not like i'm walking around sulking all day.....most of the time.
any other misconceptions you have, just give me the benefit of the doubt okay. ppd is a blanket term and i don't fit all of the descriptions, but it's a very real problem that i'm dealing with and it has started to affect me on a physical, emotional and psychological level.
let me explain. what i feel is an intense amount of guilt. i feel like i should be doing it all and i should be doing it with a smile. my house is supposed to be clean. i'm supposed to cook healthy, balanced meals for my family. by now i should at least be halfway to my pre-both-pregnancies weight and then some. i should always have my laundry done and put away. i'm supposed to always look presentable and always be ready to host guests at my house. my husband should still see me as the foxy girl he married. i should be making him a priority. i should be active in church and attend every saturday or sunday. i should be making some kind of income to contribute to our house....these are just SOME of the expectations i put on myself. and THAT'S the problem. i put these things on myself and then when i don't live up to my own expectations, i'm upset with myself. i can't deal.
ever since bella was born, i've been feeling down and distraught. understandably so, with her NICU stay and surgery and bouncing in and out of hospitals....having to ask when i can hold my baby and what is okay and what is not. then having my son go to the other side of the state for weeks at a time. then the constant juggling. work-school-career aspirations-family-friends-self. and at several points i've had mini nervous breakdowns. but for the last month or so, i've found myself saying "there is something wrong with me". at first it was in my head, then i kept muttering it and finally i've been saying it loudly. the answer has been floating around in my mouth for some time, but i've been too chicken to say it. and tonight, i said it for the first time.
it's because i was scared that once i said those words, i'd have to acknowledge it and face it. why oh why can't i just hide from it. or even more so, why can't i just snap out of it? that's been the biggest thing. for a long time, the naive me thought that depression was a joke. that if you felt that way, you could just snap yourself out of it. and that's what i've been trying to do. but it's not working. i've been walking around feeling like i'm trying to keep my head above water only to constantly be pulled under. that's the best analogy i can think of. it's like no matter what i do, i'll never be ahead...i'll never be in line...i'll always be behind...way way behind of where i need to be. over the last six years, i've been hyper-aware of self. my mental state, why i do things, where this has come from, why things manifest themselves while others do not, etc. so when i kept feeling "off", i knew that this was really becoming a problem.
to say that i'm terrified is an understatement. i'm scared that even though i know what's going in, that it's not going to help. i'm afraid people will think i'm crazy. i'm afraid that when i ask for help, that it'll be met with wide, scared eyes...like any mis-step and i'll snap. i'm scared that people will look at and treat me differently. but i'm still me. i'm still loving, bubbly, mostly funny kiranda. i still love hard and laugh loud. i just have a lot on my shoulders and little support. so while i'm struggling and trying to overcome, please don't desert me. i still need your love....maybe even a little more.
so yes, i have PPD and it's very real.
but i refuse to let it define me.
i will beat this.