I work, dear reader. I'm a worker.
I do mother-work (clean, bathe, wash, fix, kiss, tidy, yell, cook, protect).
I also do music-work (piano lessons, performances).
Then I do Edit/Writing/Scheduling work (Mormon Women) and Online Marketing work (Avenia Bridal).
I also have Church work (accompanying the choir and editing the neighborhood newsletter).
I also work at keeping my chin up when I'm smacked in the head with another bout of Post Partum Depression. "Oh, no!" says I. "I don't have PPD this time. Nope. I'm fine. Everything is going well!"
I bristle at the continuous inquiries about my mental and emotional state. "Why doesn't anyone believe me? I'm fine! Don't I look happy? My baby sleeps well, eats well, and cries very little. My body has recovered at record speed, I have energy, and I'm happily focusing on my children. I've started chore charts, the laundry usually gets done, and the house is not covered in mold. I support my husband in his work, his school, and his callings. See? I'm happy. HAPPY. I'M HAPPY, DANG IT!"
And yet, I'm not.
I want to be. I remember how it felt. I even do things that resemble happiness. But the cloud/pit/suffocating mud of Depression has drenched everything in it's filth. Fingerprints are everywhere, reminding me that I am sad. Not happy. Un-joyful.
Reason I'm unhappy:
Loneliness, high-stress, self-image problems, putting too much importance upon the validation of others, loneliness, not meeting self-imposed-goals of mothering and wifering, longing for something I shouldn't long for (i.e. Freedom to Do Free Things), loneliness.
Vitamins, exercise, water, friends, support, service, hormonal birth control, maybe medication.
Where to start:
Vitamins, exercise, water, friends, support, service, hormonal birth control.
Oh, and work. Working at exercising, eating right, taking vitamins. Working at accepting help from friends, not ignoring phone calls, being honest. Work at serving others.
Because that's what I do. I work.
I work hard.