It's been a year.

May 1, 2017 was the last time I shared publicly my battle with postpartum depression. I wrote about when I realized how bad it had gotten and how desperately I needed to reach out for help. It was shared on a blog called motherhoodtabutiful.com you can find my post here.

I wish I could say it was the last time I wrote about it because I got better, that depression and anxiety don't get to me anymore. It's better now than it was before but I still have it. It's something I carry around with me on a day-to-day basis. I manage it better now.

I still have bad days, well they're not bad. They're average days, but they're a little darker for me than they are for everyone else in my life. All my days start the same with my son waking me up because he hears his sister on the baby monitor, but on the dark days its harder to get out of bed. It's harder to take care of myself, let alone two small humans when the day starts dark. I usually know the night before that the day ahead holds little light, it's hard to sleep and I feel guilty because I know that I wont be able to be the best I can be when it's dark.

I feel shame because my life is a good life. It's better than good, and yet there's something hardwired somewhere in my noggin that can take the light from a day and keep me locked away from all that good in my life.

I feel lonely because my husband still doesn't understand that I'm not sad. I have depression and there is a difference. I'm not worried, I'm anxious and there is a difference. I can't just choose to be happy, because I am happy. I can't just "stop worrying" because I'm not worried.

There have been times where it's taken me hours just to fold a basket of laundry because my anxiety just won't let me settle. My anxiety manifests as anger and sickness. My stomach turns and I feel it brewing deep in my stomach making me angry because I can't stop it. The meds help when grounding doesn't. I fiddle, I pace, I scream internally trying to fight away the part of me that wont fucking settle.

I feel defeated because I need medication to help me cope sometimes. I still struggle with the fact that I need help controlling something only I should be able to control. I shouldn't. I'm not weak. I've never thought anyone else to be weak because they use medication, why do I feel that way about myself?

We're our own worst critics. I know and recognize what it is that's happening to me. I see it for what it is.

I don't like to say "I have mental health issues"

because there it is again,

Shame.

Shame for something that is normal, shame for something that is a part of me. Similarly to how we feel shame about our bodies, our wonderfully and beautifully made bodies. Each of us has something we don't like about ourselves.

I've recently overcome the hate I had for my body. My body that has carried me through life, through growth, my body that has built children and birthed them. I don't always love my body but I never hate it. I am grateful for it's strength and it's resiliency through years of hatred, abuse and malnourishment.

That same kind of abuse I put my body through for years, I put my mind through now.

I'm working on it.

I spend a lot of time feeling angry about the way I feel, but you wouldn't know it.

more often than not my depression looks put together and happy, but feels empty and dark. One look at my Instagram and you'd think "wow that Sam girl has her shit together"

Putting on a brave face and a smile during the hard times is a talent and most of us who suffer have mastered. It can be a dangerous game, faking it. It’s isolating when no one knows that behind the smile there’s something tearing away at you.

I don't think that I'll ever be free of depression or anxiety. I think it's something I'll deal with forever and that's become less of a dooming statement lately. I'm not ruined for it. I'll keep getting better, I'll figure out what works for me and as each season of life changes I'm quite certain what works for me will change too. That's okay. There will always be room for growth.

Being open about dealing with all of this is not something that comes easily. It's probably not easy for anyone, which is why we need to talk about it more.

I shouldn't feel shame for needing what I need to function on the days with no light, and neither should anyone else.