I grew up in a depressed state and grew into my anxiety, which didn’t present until I became a mother. It’s not surprising that stepping into a sudden and fierce devotion to living after a lifetime of daring death would cause a bit of whiplash.
Presumably, I’d be able to handle another mental illness without help, just like I had survived my depression without meds or counseling in the years leading up to my daughter’s birth.
Presumably, my having postpartum depression as the cherry on top would just pass in the same waves my garden variety biological depression had.
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