I have been wanting to write this post for awhile now, but was waiting.......waiting..... waiting...... to be absolutely sure it was not a fluke.
For the past few months, I have finally felt like my old self. I get up early every morning now, way before everyone else, even X. I now look forward to starting my day, enjoying the quiet moments that each morning brings. I am reading voraciously again, knitting new projects, going to the gym regularly, and relishing my children so much that I want time to stand still. Seriously, Father Time, sit your ass down for a bit.
Life is good. And it was not good for a such a long time, that I can scarcely believe it now.
I have not talked much about my post-partum depression. A mention here and there, but I am not that sort of blogger and Rancid Raves is not a really a space for those mental meanderings anyway. There are other writers doing a stellar job with the subject and I had nothing new to add to the topic.
Furthermore, X did not want me to talk too much about the PPD and I respected his wish for privacy. If nothing else, I have learned these past 18 months that PPD affects an entire family, not just a single person. It is not just a problem for mothers. And I am now appreciative that X requested that filter. I am also grateful that I had the grand fortune of marrying someone who is solid, capable and utterly forgiving.
These past 18 months I have said and thought horrible, dark, ugly, wrenching words. Twisted logic that only made sense to me at the time. And at times, I felt dishonest as a blogger. That perhaps, I should be sharing my experience for the greater good. Then, I realized there was no good whatsoever to be had from my experience and I am glad I kept the majority of my experience within my own little family.
Of course, there was some good.
Obviously, it was worth it.
Now that the thick, foggy haze of PPD has cleared, I can see my life again.
And I like it.