Depression

Awash in the postpartum anxiety, I felt glued to the couch, unable to mobilize myself to get anything done except the bare basics of being a present.

My Darling Boy, I know what life is like with depression. Here are some things I want you to remember. From Your Depressed Mother.

The facade of control I’d spent so much energy maintaining was ripped from me. I am doing my best, and that’s good enough for me.

So began the long, toxic love affair between my depression and my addiction. They battled silently and stealthily for control over my body and mind.

I realized all at once that folks who have not been suicidal do not understand what it means to be mentally ill and suicidal.

I know it feels like you're falling apart. It's the kind that happens when I have overcommitted and then something goes wrong and everything else spirals.

Coming out of dissociation can feel like waking from a lucid dream. One moment you’re on the other side of physical reality, and then you cross the threshold and are part of life again.

The elephant in the room is my mental illness. Do my anxiety and depression make me unworthy of love?