The Ugly Truth

Where have I been?

Well, let me tell you a story....



It started as a thought.

I was standing at the back of my classroom one day, and this thought rudely and intrusively interrupted my thought process. A thought that made my knees buckle and made me ask myself "WHAT is that doing there?" Right then and there I made a pact with myself to never tell anyone about it. What would they think of me? Would they put me in a mental hospital? Would they take my baby away?

And then they kept coming.

The thoughts kept coming for 7 solid weeks. They made me question my sanity. They made me question my ability to be allowed to be a human being walking on this earth, let alone a mother and a wife to people who depend on me to take care and love them.

7 weeks. They kept me up at night. They gave me stomachaches. They made me nauseated. They made me lose 10 pounds. They made me grind my teeth all day long. They made me afraid to pick up my own baby. They made me afraid to get out of bed in the morning. They affected my job, my marriage, my relationships with others, and my health.

And then came the drop. The nosedive. The darkness that completely enveloped my body and my mind was absolutely suffocating. I would sit on the couch every night and be completely consumed with fear and self-loathing panic. But, I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't be embarrassed like that.

And so I waited in silence. Waited to just magically feel happy again. Waited to just wake up one day and feel all better. If only I had "enough faith", I could get through this...

But it didn't happen. It only got worse. I felt like Satan himself knew my address and had a key to my front door. 7 long weeks.

I know what you're thinking. Lisa, you idiot, why didn't you tell someone? Well, because I'm dumb, that's why. And I honestly just thought that I had gone crazy. I didn't know what it was.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I sent an email to my very understanding and very non-judgemental mother-in-law. I told her what I was feeling. "Lisa," she said, "you have post-partum depression, and you need to get help NOW." She made me call the doctor.

And so I did.

They put me on some medication and told me to call if things got worse.

I went to school the next Monday. I shook all day. My stomach cramped. I couldn't get my thoughts straight.

And then...

I broke.

I left my classroom and walked down the hall. I almost made it to the office, but what would they think? So I turned around.

I did this two or three times. (You're on the edge of your seat, I know.)

Don't worry, because eventually I made that step and went and found someone.

Within an hour, I was in the doctor's office. I was ordered to immediately take a leave from work, to see a psychologist the very next day (and subsequent sessions after that), to have my medication dosage increased, and to NOT BE ALONE. This was last Monday. I was actually very afraid they were going to make me stay in the hospital. That would have been traumatizing.

It's been a very hard, very humbling week.

The hard part is that I'm a private person. I don't like to share feelings. I think it's dumb. It's embarrassing for me, especially because I know what people who are outside of the situation say- she's crazy, she's just looking for an excuse, she just doesn't want to work, and on and on.

So here is why I share this.

I share this because POST-PARTUM DEPRESSION IS REAL. It's more real than anything I've ever felt. And if you don't talk to someone, it DOES NOT go away. It gets worse. Do not let it spiral out of control like I did.

Know that YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

I don't think it gets talked about enough. I don't think that enough people know about it, and the shame that accompanies it is unbearable. It makes you feel like you are nothing, like you are insane, and that no one will understand.



Please talk to someone. It scares me to think what might have happened had I waited one more day.


I will be forever grateful to Paula and to Kira who listened to me, checked on me, and who kept my secrets.


Anyway, things are getting better. Slowly and surely, they are getting better.