PPD rant

At this point in my life, I don’t have anyone to go to that I can say this out loud to. So I figured I could come here, just to get it off of my chest.

Depression is hard. I’ve dealt with it most of my life, and I’ve always gotten through it by myself. Even postpartum with my first child.

There’s the struggle of not wanting to wake up and get out of bed. But you have to. You have to get up and take care of the babies, they can’t do it on their own.

What about when you clean day after day, mess after mess, and your house is still a disaster? It’s so hard to keep on with very little to no help.

You absolutely love cooking, but the depression is so overwhelming that you don’t want to cook anymore. You don’t want to do anything that actually brings joy to you. So you just buy microwaveable food and pray your kids will enjoy it, so you don’t have to cook.

You’re stuck at home, unable to work, because you only make $300-$400 every week and the babysitters/childcare costs $120 a day for both kids.

You try to make friends and have fun, but sometimes it’s just not fun. You beg to get out of the house, and when you finally are, you actually miss being there for some reason.

At night and on the weekends you have some drinks, so the pain goes away for a little bit. But that doesn’t always help. Sometimes it makes it worse, because you don’t even like drinking but at least it helps a little.

My youngest is about to turn 1 in two weeks. How am I still depressed? Why is it getting worse by the day? Why can I have good days, then it gets 10x worse than what it was before? I don’t understand anymore. It shouldn’t last this long. I should be happy again. But I’m not.

My family doesn’t understand. They are across the country. My friends are 3 states away from me. The people who claim to be my friends around me, aren’t ever really there for me. Unless alcohol is involved. They say they will be there for me for whatever I need. I need help with this house, I need help with my kids. I need a break sometimes. But all I get is excuses and left on read.

My husband doesn’t understand. He sits right next to me at night and doesn’t realize what’s going on. He doesn’t see the pain and sadness. He just thinks I’m being bi***y that day. He doesn’t realize that I’ve completely given up. He can’t even pick up on the signs. Cooking is my passion, I absolutely love it. He thinks that I just gave up on cooking because I lost interest in it. Not that I’m too depressed to want to move. I laugh at his jokes, so that means I’m perfectly fine, right?

Depression is a dark hole that sucks you and everything you love into it, and it’s exhausting trying to pull yourself out of it all alone. But somehow you have to manage. Just so you can be with those babies and make sure everything in their life is great and they are happy and okay.