so here it is...

me and the biggest crush of my life, who will be nine months old in a few short days. 

i wanted to write something eloquent but i just don't think there is any way to do it. there is nothing eloquent or graceful to say about postpartum depression. i suffer from postpartum depression. i thought i was over it. but i'm very clearly not. i came to this conclusion last friday when my new doctor asked me about marlo's birth and my medical history and i instantly started sobbing. the truth always does that to me.

so, yeah, i suffer from postpartum depression.

weirdly enough, throughout my pregnancy i knew i would.

it is an emotionally painful and physically exhausting illness.

yes, it is an illness.

it is unbearably isolating and makes me feel so alone. especially so being in a new city, away from all of my closest secret keepers.

it is a daily struggle and it leaves me heartbroken.

it is a robber of joy.

it makes me doubt everything that i know i'm good at.

it leaves me with little confidence in my abilities as a mother, a wife, and a human being.

it keeps me tired and achey, sleepless and on edge. and pissed off, too. that's definitely in the mix.

it keeps me on medication because i've tried everything else.

it makes me feel pitiful and i hate pity.

and it did keep me ashamed.

but no longer.

i have never been ashamed of any of my struggles. quite the opposite, actually; i'm an open book and very proud to share. denial is a dangerous path that i refuse to lead. i've worked so hard at leading an authentic life and i refuse to allow this to derail me. i'm going to bitch-slap postpartum depression in the face. if anything deserves to be bitch-slapped, mental illness takes the cake.

maybe i wanted to share this so i felt less alone. maybe i felt the need to share it just so i didn't feel like i was hiding. maybe this is a form of therapy. i don't know. but it felt good and i cried while i wrote it.

again, the truth always does that to me.