Well, I just finished reading the book Sleepless Days by Susan Kushner Resnick. I have to say, the author hit what I'm feeling right on the mark. (From her pregnancy (she wanted it to be “natural, but circumstance changed that) through her "recovery," and having to figure out if she wanted to stop nursing to go on meds, etc.) She had a way of wording this book that described what I’m feeling... VERY recommended. One of my favourite parts was a section about in the middle of the book, that describes me to a "t": If I were one of those people who could ask for help, who could tell people when she’s afraid on a patch of and alone, I would weather by bout of PPD better. But I’m not one of those people. I'm the type who waits for others to offer help. Its hard to wait much longer, though. "Do I seem normal to you," I ask Kelly when she finally joins me. Maybe she will tell me I don’t. Maybe she will use her powers of friendship and professional experience to make me well again. the kids are sitting on one towel eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Carrie wears the Big Sister t-shirt over her bathing suit. Max nurses. "Yeah," she says. "you seem really tired and kind of stressed, but that's understandable. You still seem normal." Good, I think. I feel terrible, but I guess I’m still okay or Kelly would know it. but how could she? I am ashamed of me. so I hide my weakness with the desperation of a shoplifter hiding a stolen lipstick. I’ve always been what they call a "high-functioning" depressive. after a lifetime of pushing myself to appear perfect, I'm an expert. I accomplish everything I need to without anyone knowing I’m terrified inside. people see what I achieve, not what I avoid out of irrational fear. …and when I tell friends later I had PPD this summer, most are shocked. “You seemed fine,” they say because my charade is a success.Read full review
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