The Blahs, or Something Worse?

 I published this post. Then deleted it. Now I’m publishing it again, even though I’m a little bit afraid to…please don’t judge me too harshly.

Tonight as we were walking the dog, my husband threatened to make me go to the shrink. He says I’m doing nothing but beating myself up these days…a sure sign that my lovely friend Depression is attempting to make a comeback.

I was shocked to hear him say that.

I mean, sure, I sometimes question my ability to be a good mom (out loud). I wonder if I’m doing everything (or anything) right. I worry that I work too much. That I’m not exciting enough. That I’m feeding her too much (or too little). That I don’t bathe her enough. You name it, I worry about it.

But that’s normal for a new mom. Right?

Then there’s the disparaging remarks I make about my flabby ass body, my cooking skills (or lack there of), my inability to keep a clean house, get caught up on laundry, or do anything at all worthwhile…

Sounds pretty damning, I know. But confidence has never been my strong point.

And, of course, I’m tired all the time. Even after getting a good night’s sleep. And I have no energy, or desire to do much of anything other than care for my daughter. Even gardening (normally one of my favorite therapeutic activities) seems like too much work.

But we can still blame it on the new mom thing, right?

How ’bout the sudden fits of tears?

Or the voice in the back of my mind that tells me Tori won’t love me? And that Brian is going to get sick of me? And that I’m just a downright bad person?

Damn it. He might be right. I might need to address this before it becomes a real issue…

Have I mentioned how much I hate it when he’s right?

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