Have You Seen My Rose-Colored Glasses?

Yesterday, I wrote a rather bleak post. I was going to delete it and move on. Then I thought, what if someone else out there needs to hear this? What if someone else out there is having that kind of day? I know that in my darker moments just finding someone who is going through the same thing has bolstered me immensely. So here it is, I titled it 'In the Tunnel' and while today is warmer and brighter and I am lucky to have two such incredibly smiley children I don't believe that days like this one are gone completely.

It would be nice to think that poof! you take a pill and instantly your world is better. That's what the drug companies want us to think isn't it? That after a few weeks you begin to see life through rose-colored glasses once again and suddenly that depleted glass is half full. Oh happy day!

That is not reality. That is not my life. No matter how hard I try to look beyond and know that I will one day feel better I'm still struggling. I keep trying to squash it back down but it just bubbles up again like hot black tar. On the darkest days I feel like I'm lost in a tunnel. I see a tiny pin prick of light at the end but I just never seem to reach it. It is hard to keep from feeling entirely alone and continuously cold. On these days there are no burst of energy or a Mom full of smiles. There is Mom longing for piles of blankets, endless hours of total silence and sleep that she wants so badly she begins to cry just thinking about it. There is the Mom who is swallowed by guilt before she even opens her eyes because she can't quite seem to move beyond the haze and be everything that her children need and desperately crave. These thoughts alone again make her weep. The frustration at going through this and the guilt I feel because I feel like a disease on my family sucks so much of my joy out of my everyday life.

Everything is parched.

Everything is acrid and the weight of the hours is more than I can bear.

I begin to wonder is this what mother hood really is? If it is, I feel doomed that my daughters will soon grow to hate me. That disappointment will brim over in their eyes each time they look at me because I am not as playful or as fun as other mothers. I hate these days. They are never ending and futile all at the same time. I crave the energy I need to fight my way out of this tunnel and stumble towards that tiny pin prick of light until it is no longer small but entirely encompassing.

I've added two new sections to your right - websites, blogs and books that have helped me through Postpartum Depression the first time and again this time.