This is the pain you don’t see. The pain of postpartum mood disorder. The pain of postpartum PTSD. The physical heartache. The sleepless nights filled with panic attacks. The endless days of anxiety and tears. The feeling like you can’t even take care of yourself how are you supposed to take care of the kids too.
This is the face behind the mask. This is the months of recovery to feel like you’re walking circles. This is knowing there’s still months to go and wondering where you’re going to find the strength.
This is going to the bottom of the pit and trying to claw your way out. To find the light at the end of the tunnel. To pray there IS a light at the end of the tunnel.
This is me. How I really feel. Not the fake smile I put on. Not the fake laugh to appear happy. Not the smiling pictures with my kids. This pain is my reality.
I hesitate to talk to you because I fear you’ll say the wrong thing. I’m already in so much pain I can’t risk you making it worse. So I isolate myself because more often than not the wrong thing is said.
I know you don’t mean to. You’re only trying to help but you don’t understand what I’m going through.
I hurt more from your good intentions. It’s a physical pain. A pain in my chest that is there most the time but sometimes the good intentions make it worse.
I want to let you in. I don’t want to suffer in silence. I know I can’t say silent. But today, today I need to take care of me.