Time again for some fabulous Writing Workshop blogging! Sorry I’ve been M.I.A. with this fab workshop of late… I’ve been a tad busy/scared of writing openly/uninspired etc… I’m sure it happens to a lot (hoping it does anyway!).
Anyhooooo the topic I’ve chosen from Josie’s prompts this week is:
“What does depression feel like to you? Find words, descriptions, poems, stories, to give shape to that dark place that so many of us share.“
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It’s a dark place… you feel so alone. It should be the most happiest time of your life… but it’s not. The guilt eats away at you. You trust no-one. Cannot tell anyone. Cannot let anyone see. They would know… you’re weak. You’re sick. You are pathetic. Utterly useless. Pathetic excuse of a woman. So you hide away… shut off from friends. They can’t see. No-one can. Nobody would understand. How could anyone possibly understand? You’re disgusting. Not fit to walk the Earth with the others… You cannot let them know.
You put on the mask.
I’m fine. Everything is wonderful. I’m overjoyed. This is the best time of my life! I’m so in love! This is the best feeling in the whole entire world! Look at me! I’m content, happy… blissful.
But it’s a mask.
Behind the mask you’re a demon. A sick, depraved individual. What kind of person would have such thoughts? Such negativity and resentment brewing beneath the outer shell.
How could you? HOW!? How could you BE like this?! You scream at yourself inside. You don’t want to be feeling the way you do. You can’t help it.
What’s wrong with me?!
You look at your devil child and instantly regret it. Devil child! You pick him up and scream. You come to your senses. How could you?! What the hell is the bloody MATTER WITH YOU!?
You sick bitch.
Thoughts of throwing the child from the window. His screaming. The non-stop colicky screaming. Endless screams. You can’t take anymore. This is torture. He hates you. You put him down and leave him. Go scream in the next room. Stomping feet. Hands up in the hair pulling at it.
Torture. Pain. Angst. Hurt. Turmoil.
You can’t settle him. Can’t wind him. You’re useless! Pathetic excuse for a “Mother”. You don’t deserve the title! Social Services would have you in an instant. You’re no Mother!
You feed, bathe, dress him… you take him to the health visitor. You give him what he needs to grow… to survive.
You’re ashamed. Devastated. Full of sorrow. You cannot give him unconditional love. The love he needs to thrive.
There is no maternal bond. You so desperately want to have… but you don’t. You won’t admit it. Not to anyone. They can’t know… they’d just not understand!! What kind of Mother cannot love their child more than anything in the world?!
Lying in bed. Your house may as well be a prison cell. You cannot get out. You bang at the windows. You want help. You cannot ask for it.
To ask for help you must admit you’re a failure… They’d take the child away from you!! You cannot ask for the help. Never. You say you don’t love the child. You’re filled with fear of losing him if you disclose your awful secret. Petrified of losing him before you can love him. You must love him.
You put on the mask and tomorrow is another day…
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I had ante-natal depression when pregnant with my son, then after his birth it developed into post-natal depression. I know now, the reasons for this. I had so many of the risk factors – nearly all of them! I had it pretty bad… and I’m still not completely over it. He’ll be 7 this year. I love son, he’s awesome! However, I still don’t have that bond I speak of in the post. It’s difficult to admit it, but I’m not so ashamed of it anymore.
I had ante-natal and post-natal depression. It’s not as uncommon as you’d think. It destroys people. It changed me. I’m still resentful. don’t want to be bitter… but I am. I still feel jealous of those who have that kind of bond with their children. I feel the ante-natal and post-natal depression has robbed me of a lot. I want that bond more than anything in the world.
I keep getting told it could happen one day… I hope so… I really do.