I’ve lived with depression and anxiety for over twenty years. Throughout that time, I’ve seen psychiatrists, psychologists, and social workers. I’ve been on and off medication, I’ve self medicated, and I attempted suicide three times in my teenage years.
I am still here, but I know mental illness is something I will deal with for the rest of my life.
Then, two years ago, I had my son — the most glorious time in a parent’s life — but it wasn’t glorious for me. I knew before my son was born there was a good chance I’d go through postpartum depression, but everything started out terribly: I had an awful pregnancy, I was ten days overdue, and eventually I had to have an emergency c-section.