Yesterday I wrote that life was good and I was feeling good. I think I was fooling myself.
It usually takes a few seconds, after I wake up, for me to know I am depressed. I've gotten used to waking up and waiting for the weight of depression to settle in on my chest. It's not much, it doesn't stop me from enjoying life, it's just extra baggage I carry with me. It's secret, I keep it hidden, I don't tell my family, my friends or even What's His Name (the therapist).
I guess I am ashamed of it, embarrassed by it. I am on medication, I am in therapy, my life is moving forward, yet I can't shake the depression. Or maybe it's such a part of who I am that I am afraid to let it go. Afraid that I won't know who I am without it'
I was reading a post by Dead Bug about her dealing with mild PPD and not wanting to go on medication and I was going to add a comment about my experiences with PPD. Thinking about what I would say to her made me realize I am doing the same thing to myself right now. It's hard to ... move on...to admit to everyone else that I have been in effect lying to them when I say the depression is under control. Thanks Dead Bug
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