Postpartum Depression

They told me I’d glow.
They said I’d be over the moon with love.
They told me to “enjoy every moment.”

No one told me I’d feel like a stranger in my own skin.
No one warned me that even though I adored my baby, there’d be days I didn’t recognize the woman holding her.

I’m a doctor. I know what a diagnosis looks like.
But postpartum depression?
That one snuck in quietly—while I was too busy pretending to be okay.

☁️ It Didn’t Look Like Depression

It looked like:
• Laughing at baby jokes but crying behind locked doors.
• Guilt about not feeling “grateful enough.”
• Feeling like I was failing at something every other woman made look effortless.

And that’s where the myths begin.

💔 The Myths That Hurt Us

Myth #1: “If you’re depressed, you won’t love your baby.”

Wrong. I loved my baby with my whole soul.
But there were nights I held her while feeling completely empty.
Love wasn’t the problem. Loneliness was. Exhaustion was. Hormones were.

Myth #2: “It’s just baby blues. Drink water.”

Baby blues are normal. Postpartum depression?
That’s a deeper ache. It’s not cured by a nap or a motivational quote on Instagram.
It needs care. Real, non-judgmental, professional care.

Myth #3: “Good moms don’t fall apart.”

Oh, we do.
In between diaper changes and bottle washes.
We fall apart quietly in showers and grocery store parking lots.
Falling apart doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you a human one.

🌸 The Moment I Finally Said, “I’m Not Okay”

It wasn’t dramatic.
I didn’t collapse in the hospital hallway or scream into a pillow.
I just sat on the bathroom floor one morning and whispered:

“I think I need help.”

That whisper saved me.

Because strength doesn’t always roar.
Sometimes it’s in asking for help.
Sometimes it’s in texting a friend: “Do you have time to talk?”
Sometimes it’s booking the therapy appointment you’ve been avoiding for months.

🧠 From a Doctor’s Heart: Here’s What I Want You to Know

Postpartum depression is not your fault.
It is not a reflection of your faith, your worth, or your ability as a mother.
It is a medical condition.
And like any other medical condition—it is treatable.

I say this as a doctor.
And I say this as a mother who has walked through that storm barefoot.

🌙 As a Muslim, Here’s What Gave Me Hope

My faith reminded me that even pain has purpose.

“Verily, with hardship comes ease.” (Qur’an 94:6)

And sometimes, that ease comes in the form of support groups.
Or therapy.
Or just letting yourself cry without guilt.

Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it can bear.
But mama—you don’t have to carry it alone.

💬 If You’re Reading This and Nodding Through Tears

You are not broken.
You are not behind.
You are not alone.

You are a mother—brave, exhausted, extraordinary.
You are allowed to have hard days and still be an incredible parent.
You are allowed to get help and still be strong.
You are allowed to feel sad and be grateful.
These things can coexist. And often, they do.

🌼 To Every Mama Out There

Let’s break the silence.
Let’s rewrite the narrative.
Let’s stop expecting mothers to smile through struggle just because it’s “supposed to be the happiest time.”

And if today you feel like you’re barely keeping your head above water—know this:

You are not drowning.
You are transforming.

And the version of you on the other side of this storm?
She’s stronger, wiser, and softer than ever before.

🧷 You’re Not Alone — Here’s Where to Start:
• Talk to your doctor—really. They want to help.
• Seek out mom support groups online or locally.
• Follow faith-informed therapists or wellness pages on social media.
• Text a trusted friend and just say, “Can we talk?”
• Most of all—be gentle with yourself

You’re not a bad mom.
You’re a mom who deserves to be cared for, too

They told me I’d glow.
They said I’d be over the moon with love.
They told me to “enjoy every moment.”

No one told me I’d feel like a stranger in my own skin.
No one warned me that even though I adored my baby, there’d be days I didn’t recognize the woman holding her.

I’m a doctor. I know what a diagnosis looks like.
But postpartum depression?
That one snuck in quietly—while I was too busy pretending to be okay.

☁️ It Didn’t Look Like Depression

It looked like:
• Laughing at baby jokes but crying behind locked doors.
• Guilt about not feeling “grateful enough.”
• Feeling like I was failing at something every other woman made look effortless.

And that’s where the myths begin.

💔 The Myths That Hurt Us

Myth #1: “If you’re depressed, you won’t love your baby.”

Wrong. I loved my baby with my whole soul.
But there were nights I held her while feeling completely empty.
Love wasn’t the problem. Loneliness was. Exhaustion was. Hormones were.

Myth #2: “It’s just baby blues. Drink water.”

Baby blues are normal. Postpartum depression?
That’s a deeper ache. It’s not cured by a nap or a motivational quote on Instagram.
It needs care. Real, non-judgmental, professional care.

Myth #3: “Good moms don’t fall apart.”

Oh, we do.
In between diaper changes and bottle washes.
We fall apart quietly in showers and grocery store parking lots.
Falling apart doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you a human one.

🌸 The Moment I Finally Said, “I’m Not Okay”

It wasn’t dramatic.
I didn’t collapse in the hospital hallway or scream into a pillow.
I just sat on the bathroom floor one morning and whispered:

“I think I need help.”

That whisper saved me.

Because strength doesn’t always roar.
Sometimes it’s in asking for help.
Sometimes it’s in texting a friend: “Do you have time to talk?”
Sometimes it’s booking the therapy appointment you’ve been avoiding for months.

🧠 From a Doctor’s Heart: Here’s What I Want You to Know

Postpartum depression is not your fault.
It is not a reflection of your faith, your worth, or your ability as a mother.
It is a medical condition.
And like any other medical condition—it is treatable.

I say this as a doctor.
And I say this as a mother who has walked through that storm barefoot.

🌙 As a Muslim, Here’s What Gave Me Hope

My faith reminded me that even pain has purpose.

“Verily, with hardship comes ease.” (Qur’an 94:6)

And sometimes, that ease comes in the form of support groups.
Or therapy.
Or just letting yourself cry without guilt.

Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it can bear.
But mama—you don’t have to carry it alone.

💬 If You’re Reading This and Nodding Through Tears

You are not broken.
You are not behind.
You are not alone.

You are a mother—brave, exhausted, extraordinary.
You are allowed to have hard days and still be an incredible parent.
You are allowed to get help and still be strong.
You are allowed to feel sad and be grateful.
These things can coexist. And often, they do.

🌼 To Every Mama Out There

Let’s break the silence.
Let’s rewrite the narrative.
Let’s stop expecting mothers to smile through struggle just because it’s “supposed to be the happiest time.”

And if today you feel like you’re barely keeping your head above water—know this:

You are not drowning.
You are transforming.

And the version of you on the other side of this storm?
She’s stronger, wiser, and softer than ever before.

🧷 You’re Not Alone — Here’s Where to Start:
• Talk to your doctor—really. They want to help.
• Seek out mom support groups online or locally.
• Follow faith-informed therapists or wellness pages on social media.
• Text a trusted friend and just say, “Can we talk?”
• Most of all—be gentle with yourself

You’re not a bad mom.
You’re a mom who deserves to be cared for, too

I feel numb and empty lately and I have nothing left to give. I’m running on fumes and am just going through the motions. With work, life, and overall day to day living. I know some of it is the postpartum that I’m still trying to navigate my way through and I’m trying to find the good in things, but I feel buried under the weight of everything that I am carrying right now and everything that is expected of me. I just want to disappear for a while and come back when I feel like me again.
#Anxiety #PostpartumAnxiety #PostpartumDepression

From a young age, I stood out—not for academic brilliance, but for the quiet battles I fought within myself. While I learned to read early, the ease of those early years gave way to confusion and mental fog as schoolwork became more complex. Numbers never made sense to me; dyscalculia turned math into a foreign language, and my mind often wandered, escaping into daydreams when tasks became overwhelming. My concentration faltered, and I began to shut down under pressure. Teachers saw me as inattentive, but inside, I was fighting to stay afloat in a world that didn’t seem built for the way my brain worked.
My confidence suffered. I carried a persistent sense of inadequacy, questioning my own intelligence and worth. Though kind and deeply empathetic, I was a slow-moving perfectionist—afraid to get things wrong, yet often feeling like I did. My emotional landscape was shaped not only by academic struggles but by a complicated, often painful relationship with my mother. Born into a home where my mother had wished for a boy and suffered from postpartum depression, I grew up with a void in maternal connection. I yearned for affection but also resented it, often projecting my emotional confusion onto mother figures and even going so far as to turn off my phone’s location services as a form of rebellion and self-protection.
Despite the emotional weight I carried, I was headstrong—determined in a way that surprised those around me. A moment that became family lore happened when I was just under two years old: a toy placed out of reach on top of the refrigerator somehow ended up in my tiny hands, retrieved with stealth and purpose. It wasn’t just mischief—it was early evidence of my laser focus, my ability to pursue what I wanted, no matter the obstacle.
My saving grace as a child came in the form of teachers who saw beyond my struggles. Gail Wories, a nurturing presence during my early school years, noticed my difficulty with math and stepped in, offering one-on-one help and even restructuring her day to give us more time. When my mother dismissed my need for glasses as fakery, Gail believed me, moved me to the front of the class, and wrapped me in a hug the day I finally got the glasses I needed. I, in turn, grew emotionally dependent on teachers like Gail—adults who offered the stability and encouragement I lacked at home.
The moment I read Little Women in third grade, Gail shared the achievement with other teachers, a rare moment of recognition that made me feel seen for my strengths. Later, in high school, another key figure entered my life: Joel Noorman. Blunt but perceptive, he challenged my self-doubt by telling me (my words, not his), “You’re too smart to be this stupid.” It was the first time someone confronted my internalized beliefs head-on, and it stuck. Slowly, I began to shift—not by erasing my struggles, but by learning that intelligence comes in many forms and that my unique wiring didn’t make me broken.

Hi, my name is mc01. I'm here because

#MightyTogether #Anxiety #Depression #ADHD #OCD #PostpartumDepression #PostpartumAnxiety

Hello, my name is Shea. I’m looking to get back on my feet with life in general. I’ve been struggling with depression and anxiety off and on since Freshman year of high school. Until I had my first kiddo, I was diagnosed with severe postpartum depression. I was able to get great help and was on a good run and coping with everything. Of course certain things change even within just 2 years. So, figuring out how to handle all the “obstacles” that life keeps pushing out to us; has been quite of a change to handle for some reason, for me. I question if it’s ok to feel this way, but I get upset because then I don’t know if I can do whatever the next step it is for me to keep going? I have a tendency to self-sabotage myself when good things come along. Such as a lead position for my new job, that I started 3 months ago. I told my lead that I basically won’t accept the promotion and to pass it on. Now I am currently pregnant with our second youngin. So, that was a factor to not accepting the position. I don’t believe I can push myself, nor will I try to attempt unless I know I felt comfortable doing so. We found out within a month of me working, that I was pregnant. So I am 13 weeks along currently, if that gives a better time frame?
With the pregnancy, I cannot for the life of me, not get all worked up. Not bawl my eyes out for a day or even up to a week.
On the other hand, I do try to keep going back to the advice that helped me deal with these thoughts and emotions better. I know that truly happy and engaged person is still within myself. I still get all worked up, as if I still am the only individual that can’t make it out of this fight with my deep thoughts. I’m struggling to organize what I really want to do, how to do anything and what’s the next solution? How do I keep moving forward, without tripping myself up all the time? For some reason I’ve gotten so deep, that I start to tell myself I like the pain to keep me humbled? Or that I deserve it? Then I’ll rabbit hole into all the more reasons as to why I think I’m more of a horrible person that needs to isolate myself. Rather than listen to all the compliments and the truths that people say about and directly to me. I for some reason push it all away and tell myself that they’re telling me what I think I want to hear. Anytime these thoughts come up, I hide away and tell myself all these things and I can’t understand why I let it consume me like a meal. How do I get out of this vicious cycle with myself? Why can’t I tell myself I’m good enough and truly believe it? I feel myself wanting to crawl out and yell out for help, out of this shell I’ve dugged myself into. I still fake a good smile when I can and out interacting. But I hardly talk and engage, but I’ll fake it till I make it. It’s starting to get to a point that I find it easier to make up excuses to not attend or go to places. But then I’ll stay at home, harping on everything about me. And then it’s getting harder to fake a smile and pretend that I’m alright. I’ve let myself get so down that I don’t even know how to talk to my friends, family members, my loving partner in crime. That to the point I’ve been given an ultimatum, because I’ve completely shut myself out from everybody. I’ve convinced myself I deserve this. That I’m not a good mother and never will be. I tell myself that my partner is the one who’s made our son smart and the way he is. Despite the fact that I’ve been a stay at home mom for a good year and a half of his 2 years of life. My partner will continuously remind me that I did that. What makes me a great mother that I am and still continue to be, even with these struggles.
I just need to talk and I’m not sure what’s so pent up and wanting to be heard. That im just getting frustrated at myself about every little thing I do. I want to understand me again. Find me again, or the new version that’s prying its way out that I feel like I’m going through pregnancy and birth twice. Our second child, and my personality. I can’t control whether I have a boy or girl, or if they’ll look more like me or their dad. But I can control how I want to be like during pregnancy, afterwards and for the rest of my life. Encountering every change. I somehow have to keep reminding myself in healthier ways to keep working towards that version. Those goals, self-affirmations, self-care, and all the goodies that come with the honeys and moneys with a good conscience. Because I want to get back to the greener side of the fence that knew I was capable and proving myself over and over why I should keep going. I’m not trying to prove particularly anybody, because everybody has their own successes and stresses. I’m concerned if I can stay in the game with everybody else and proving my dark conscience that I was wrong. That I’ve gained and even over achieve if I can. Maybe that’s why I get tripped up because then I overthink some obstacles and overshoot myself. So I set myself up for failure, because I didn’t aim and direct how and where I want to go to hit the bullseye.
I would love to find any way to connect with people who might go through similar struggles. Help motivate each other to stay on top for ourselves and our families. I look forward to learning more about mental awareness and healing. ❤️
Get back into wanting to peruse psychology in some way. To help others connect and continue the same growth plan to keeping moving forward. Like that movie, Meet the Robinsons.
🎶All of my regret, will wash away somehow. But how can I forget, the way I feel right now? In these small hours. These little wonders. These twists and turns of fate. 🎶 -Rob Thomas
Such a good a movie but anyways, I hope you enjoyed the roller coaster ride, and look forward to meeting some cool people!

👋 all I have been a part of the mighty since early 2017 when I was diagnosed with Chiari Malformation type 1 and Syringomylia. Rheumatoid, and hyper Thyroid issues run in the family along with other autoimmune disorders, dupitrins contractions and planter fashitis (pretty thats mispelked). We also have Mental health or personality disorders as well.

I didn't ever really come on here till now. After having my son in 2021 I developed severe postpartum depression. It eventually disappeared on its own kinda, it just lessened to depression.I was battleing addiction that had started because of my Chiari diagnosis and decompression surgery. In summer of 2022 i got clean and stayed clean. I went to a psychologist who was in the company of my rehab/general therapist. I was diagnosed with general anxiety, social anxiety, depression, bipolar, and having borderline personality disorder traits. I have recently VERY recently got away from trauma and abuse. I am almost 💯sure I have C-PTSD. Are there other forms of trauma bonding, abuse, PTSD out there what are common symptoms? I have something really weird going on and I dont even know how to really explain it . It i don't know if it's a symptoms concerning my Chiari and surgery site or if its a mental, psychological issue from the trauma. Any similar backgrounds out there? Even not general answers would be appreciated as well. Thnx everyone.

#ArnoldChiariMalformation , #ChiariMalformation , #Syringomyelia #autoimmune Disorders #MentalHealth #BorderlinePersonalityDisorderBPD #DepressiveDisorders #BipolarDepression #ComplexPosttraumaticStressDisorder #behavioralhealth #Trauma #symptoms #DissociativeIdentityDisorder #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #PTSD #mental #Anxiety #BipolarDisorder ##Nightmares #MoodDisorders #SocialAnxiety #OtherMentalHealth #neuro

2 wks ago my therapist wanted me to get on Klonopin to calm my thoughts cause my beta blocker wasn’t working. So I called my psychiatrist and scheduled an appointment. Well, that went over like a lead balloon 🎈. She was only going to give me 2wks worth. I asked will it be 2 wks worth every month she said no. 2 wks worth isn’t going to be enough. Beta blockers should not be prescribed to anyone who has asthma. So, I made a appointment with a Nurse Psych practitioner at the place where I wanted to in the first place. This place I love because the psychiatrist helped me so much with my postpartum depression and anxiety. She ended up giving me gabapetin. I looked that up and it says cause significant weight gain. No way Jose! I’m keeping my weight off since I have been walking. I have been the same weight this whole time. Caplyta helped me loose weight besides my walks.

I have so much that has gone on in my life which lead me to here and now. Childhood trauma (physical abuse, neglect, emotional abuse, molestation, etc…) led to PTSD & MAJOR DEPRESSIVE DISORDER. I also have ADHD, and my meds for that don’t work because my med manager can’t find a med that will keep my ANXIETY under control. And my anxiety keeps me from sticking with 1 train of thought! My anxiety level is at a consistent 7… but more on my bad days! My anxiety is getting worse with time, to the point where I spend my last $20 door dashing groceries because I have a panic attack at the thought of having to go shopping in a store. Also, I take my Propanolol medication everytime before I drive my car, because that also scares the hell out of me now. I raised my son myself for 20 years, and he just got his own apartment a few weeks ago. EMPTY NEST SYNDROME! I spent the 1st 16 years so focused on raising my son, that I unintentionally isolated myself for those 16 years. I understand that my old friends moved on when I stopped reaching out to them. However, I had POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION, for the first 5 years of my sons life, and when I unintentionally stopped reaching out to my family, they never (not once) bothered to try to call me. Not long after my son turned 5, it was like walking out of a fog and I felt sooo alone and lost and my first thought was “where did everyone go”! Since that point, when I woke up mentally and started trying to connect with those I cared about, I was never able to entirely make those connections again. An example of this was my brothers wedding May 2023, and I was surrounded by family and friends, but I ended up leaving right after the ceremony. This was because no one was talking to me and I started to feel very alone even surrounded by so many people I have known for years. It is like I no longer can carry a conversation, and the effort to connect with people makes me physically and mentally exhausted. When my son turned 16, I decided for the first time since I had him, that I would try dating again. I rushed into a marriage with the first guy who seemed interested in me, (seeing as how I have very low self esteem, and clearly assumed that I was to old to waste time trying to find better for myself). Within a few months of being married, his Narcissistic traits started to show. I do count my blessings, that I had been working as a Mental Health Rehabilitation Technician for years, and I was very aware of what narcissistic behavior looked like. Even then, it still took me another 7 months to kick him out of my apartment, and 2 more months to finalize my divorce. My marriage lasted exactly 1 year! Then I was raped by the next guy I went on a date with, and he gave md HERPES. I was 39 at this point, and having not dated for many years after my sons father broke up with me (in his next breath, after I told him I was pregnant). So Herpes guy was only my 4th sexual partner in all my 39 years. Also, my 1st partner (my manager at Walmart) also raped me, on my 18th birthday! A few months after getting herpes, I met a new man. He was in a bad place. He had been married for 8 years, together 10, and raised her to kids since her youngest was first born. She had Borderline Personality Disorder, snd had stopped taking her meds. She became abusive physically towards him as well as mentally. His doctors told him when he started having seizures, that they were stress induced. For his mental and physical health, he left his wife. Since he was the only father her kids had ever known, she promised to keep him in their lives. But when me and him started dating, she cut him out of his life entirely. I am pretty sure, although he never said it, but I’m pretty sure he blamed me for losing his kids. I let him move in with me, probably sooner in our relationship than I should have. 4 months in, I told him I was In Love with him. 2 months later I came home from work to hearing him on his phone (with speaker phond on). He was talking to his friend Kelsey (who was engaged, so it never occurred to me to be concerned about them two). They very graphically were discussing the last time they had sex in great detail (which had been a few days before the phone call). Then they started making plans for their next hookup. Now, I had never allowed myself to Truly Love someone before. I was devastated and started SELF HARMING for awhile. I broke up with him, but my nature is very empathetic and kind. He had no car to get to work and no ond else he could move in with. So he moved into my spare bedroom. For the last 1 1/2 years, he has continued to live with me (he says I’m his best friend). But I can’t shut those feelings of Love off. So everytime he goes out wya girl, I lose it. He spent the night at a hotel with a woman, tgd one he cheated on me with, and I ended up in a voluntary crisis house for 8 days. I know… and have been told by many people… that he needs to move out for the sake of my mental health. But… I have no one else. Like literally no one. Even my son who just moved out, will only talk to me when he comes over to my place to do laundry. I am terrified of him leaving. Of me being completely alone in my
big apartment. When I start thinking about kicking him out, I immediately have a panic attack. I know I could use some therapy/counseling, but the 3 places in my area that I signed up for have very long waiting lists. And my current med manager is having no luck with trying to find a med regime that works for me. So last week she referred me to a new person. This person id going to thoroughly reevaluate my mental health diagnoses, and start treating me using a new fresh pair of eyes.

I am SO SORRY that this was so long. But please keep in mind that I in fact DID NOT entirely list ALL of my trauma history or every negative thing that has derailed my life throughout my 41 years. This is just the cliff notes. But feeling so alone all the time, I don’t often get the chance to get all these thoughts outta my head. THANKS FOR LISTENING!!!