Every now and then, when I have one of my depression roller-coasters, that ultimately end up with me breaking down, crying, frustrated at life, Dave and I always come together. We sit and we talk to each other, trying our best to understand this horrible cloud that has been placed over my head. After the tears, snots and cuddles, my witty humour always comes back out the closet. And the line we always, well I always utter is ‘have kids they said’.
Our life was relatively normal, stress free, non-mental before the birth of Jessica. Still, 2 years down the line we are trying to understand when and what happened to allow my depression to take hold. I have joked on more than one occasion that child birth is ‘traumatic’ and I ‘have post traumatic stress or something’, in fact I’m sure in one of my posts I do say I was traumatized by birth, but in a good way – if there is such a thing. The reason I joke, is that my idea of trauma is enduring a significant, upsetting, fearful, horrendous experience that harms a person, either physically or emotionally, such as rape, robbery, war, assault, experiencing a natural disaster or a car accident. Something that really altered your life, left you in a state of confusion and shock, something that you never want to happen to you again.
That doesn’t include child birth, right?