So it’s #MentalIllnessAwarenessWeek and since I have no more fucks to give, I’m going to get real personal about Post Partum Depression, which is still grossly underreported and stigmatized.

A thread. 1/

Let me first say, there were a lot of times where I didn’t want to be a mom. Not like “my kid smeared poop on the wall, I’m out “ kind of situation, but a “I want to get in my car by myself and drive thousands of miles away and give it all up” type of thing. 2/

It has taken me years (my son is only 5) to stop having those desires. Because that’s what PPD does. It rips away the connection you have to your kid; it sucks away your joy in everything; it convinces you motherhood is the worst experience of your life. 3/

It began a week after my son was born. I was in the throes of a particularly vicious panic attack. I’d been having panic attacks for 11 years already at that point, but the symptoms that night matched a post partum infection to a T. 4/

So we went to the ER. That’s what the hospital had told me to do should I have those symptoms. But after being put into a bed at the ER and having tests done, the male nurse came back and unhooked my wires and dismissively told me “you’re fine you just have PPD” 5/

That kind of attitude would follow me around for years. The “it’s all in your head, get your shit together woman” apathy of one who’s never had the devastating thoughts ping-ponging through my mind at all times. 6/

I went onto my anxiety meds; a decision that would lead to a whole other struggle of being lambasted by a woman for not breastfeeding my son. But I digress.
It took me a while to readjust to the meds, esp considering that post-pregnancy bodies react to meds differently 7/

As I worked to find the best meds for me, i struggled to find some kind of equilibrium, one that didn’t find me breaking down doing literally anything with my son. Diaper changes felt like scaling Everest. I would break down crying on the nursery floor when he fell asleep 8/

But it was the day he was sleeping in his swinger when I got this overwhelming urge to just take myself out of his life. Permanently. Because my brain was so fucked up, I had been convinced that his life would be eons better without me in it. 9/

Imagine it. You know you love this little thing so much, but your depression has you so deluded that your death means life for him. And there was nothing I could say to myself that would make me see the absolute insanity I was going thru. 10/

But I made it through that moment. And it made me realize that no one I knew had ever spoken up about any of this. Surely I couldn’t be the only woman who felt like this. So I became determined to fight my PPD by being transparent about it and being there for other moms 11/

It helped me heal. It showed me that there are way more women out there with similar stories. But it also made me realize that PPD is still so stigmatized and immediately attaches the “Terrible Mom” badge on my chest. That needs to stop. 12/

I still have those beliefs that I’m not a good mom. But I know I’m trying my best. And I KNOW FOR A FACT kiddo is better off with me in his life. PPD is a dangerous mental illness. 13/

But it is not rare. Studies show at least 1 in 10 women will develop PPD after a pregnancy. And I fully believe that’s a low statistic. It absofuckinglutely should not be dismissed, especially by medical personnel. That nurse made me feel like my symptoms weren’t real. 14/

So I guess all this to say...
Fuck post partum depression. It is a very real illness and y’all better believe women when they say they’re suffering from it. It’s the worst kind of suffering. But having it does not equate to a lack of love for our children. 15/15