I’ve decided to write this post, but if I’m honest, I’m not even sure I’m going to publish it… I just need to get it out.

This is what depression does. It breaks you.

It’s a funny thing. You can be absolutely fine for weeks, months even, laughing, smiling, chatting, thinking that everything is great… until…you stop. Something makes you stop.

And you ask yourself, I’ve spent all this time making people happy and worrying about whether they are ok – but am I happy? Am I ok? Am I coping?

No. No I’m not.

I have post natal depression. This crippling, embarrassing, upsetting, illogical part of me that forces me to be someone I’m not.

A crumpled, crying mess. A bad mother. A selfish friend. A jealous partner. Left wanting and wishing…

I would never, ever let anyone see me like this… See me on a bad day… See my red, tear stained face…See the sadness and utter dismay that has consumed me…

This isn’t me, I don’t want to be seen like this.

But…

I also know that hiding it away won’t help, it will feed it. Make it hungry for more of me.

Depression is full of greed and the more you give into it the more of you it will take.

So, I’m writing this, I’m laying my bad day bare for all to see.

I’m forcing myself to not be embarrassed to publish this. I’m forcing myself to allow my vulnerability that publishing this shows…