What Maternal Depression Looks Like

Sometimes it hits hard and out of the blue.

Sometimes it is a slow unraveling that occurs over time.

Either way, it feels like a trap in the darkness of a long tunnel with no visible way out.

Depression can suck away all of your energy and motivation and curiosity and hope.

Simply getting out of bed, brushing your teeth, combing your hair, and making breakfast can feel like an impossible journey.

“What’s the point?” and “Everything is too hard” can feel like the only phrases accessible to your depressed brain.

Depression calls the shots. Other people are confused by the deep hole that someone who is depressed is in. They try to call to you at the bottom. They get frustrated that you can’t hear them. They try to throw you a rope but don’t understand that even lifting your arms to reach towards the offer is too exhausting. Pretty soon their care turns to frustration. You feel their anger but nobody understands that what you both share is deep fear that you will never emerge from the distant darkness.

Sometimes you cry without understanding why. Your tears flow without intent or control. Sadness is the only emotion you know.

Sometimes all you feel is pain- in your bones, in your skin, in your head, in your belly. The pain is physical and sharp and never ending.

Sometimes you feel nothing at all. You are numb to everything and feel like you move through the motions without even knowing that you are there experiencing it all.

Your baby cries out. Your child reaches for your hand. Your teenager comes and goes and whichever stage of mothering you are in, you are unable to respond at all. You no longer know how. You feel lost in your own darkness and can’t imagine how to be a parent let alone a human.

It’s all too much.

This is what depression can feel like. If you are a new mother, please know that one in every five of you reading this are in the boat. If you are a mother with children older that one, please know that one in every ten of you reading this post are in the boat with you.

You are not alone. Even though you could swear that you are.

Please don’t give up the small efforts at reaching for the rope and beginning the climb out. Today and tomorrow and the next day, do one thing that feels impossible but that also begins the climb- step out into the sunshine. Eat and apple. Pet your dog. Wash your face. Take a long, deep breath. Make a call. Let someone know that you need help.

The only way out is through- the deep feelings of despair and grief and hurt and pain need attention and they are begging for your care. They make sense and they matter and they are wise beyond belief. They are here to teach you how to love yourself more fully. Learning how to love yourself is the exit point. I know, it feels impossible doesn’t it? But I promise it’s not and when you begin to access that acceptance and love the sun will begin to shine again. That’s just how it works.

If you are in Colorado, reach out here.

If you are elsewhere in the US and world, reach out here

That one step is a step in the direction of relief.

We’ve got you.