It's amazing how PPD can really take you on a ride from hell. After reading the post I wrote yesterday, one might think I was really doing well and on the smooth road to recovery. But the road of PPD is anything but smooth, and I hit some major rocks last night. The problem with this affliction is that stress in other aspects of your life can make it so much worse. We are having some financial issues as backlash from me getting laid off, and last night we realized just how bad things are. I looked at my husband and with tears in my eyes told him repeatedly that I couldn't keep doing this anymore (and by "this" I meant mostly the life of being behind in bills, but partially just life) and that there was a whole bottle of unneccessary Lexapro up on my dresser calling my name. Yes, I hit the suicidal low again, and it was frightening beyond all reason. Thankfully, I have a supportive and loving husband who was able to talk me down. But having those thoughts go through my head leaves a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. That's NOT ME. PPD is turning me into this disgusting monster. And I'm afraid.
I started my 50mg dosage of the Zoloft yesterday too, albeit after I was already deep in the depths of depression and anxiety land. I'm hoping that will help pull me back up into the light.
The end of the ride is still very, very far off.
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Hope things are improving. Are you still going to the counseling?
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