Me, the baby and the black dog

Last night DH made me feel a bit better by being sympathetic (while this is not a first it’s not often forthcoming from him so it was nice) and gave me hugs.  It did abate the feeling a little but I still find myself haunted by what Churchill called his ‘black dog’ today.

DD is being super cute and I just can’t engage with her.  I just wish I my mom lived here so she could babysit DD overnight.  One would think that given the chance of a night off I would pamper myself but to be honest, I just want to curl up on my bed and sleep. That’s the thing about PND.  It’s a debilitating illness.  You feel as if the sun hasn’t come up in your world for a few months and nobody has turned on the lights to your soul.  So you sit there in the dark knowing where the light switch is, knowing that all you have to do is get up and turn it on but you’re incapable of doing so.  You’re rooted to the spot like a petrified rock and the more you think about getting up to turn on the light, the more rooted you become in the depths of your failure and inability.  It’s like that damned black dog sits between you and the light switch telling you what a failure you are and how you’ll never be able to reach the light.  The more you try to ignore him, the less you can help hearing him and the more you hear him, the bigger he gets until he’s consuming the room and you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

I guess I need to get out for the day but I don’t know where to go. My two friends who would understand where I am at right now are either sick with flu or having enough issues themselves right now and are not in a place to support me. DH has so much shit going on at work this week that there’s no way in hell he can take a day off to be with me either. My poor DD is going to have to let the TV babysit her again today because I just can’t do it. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.

Looks like it’s just me, the baby and the black dog today

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