Depression hurts.
At least that is what those ad campaigns for Cymbalta attest. In my experience, depression downright sucks.
I am fortunate I have never suffered from it. But people dear to me do and I am riding this roller-coaster to the greatest of lows with them. I feel helpless, I feel frustrated they cannot see their worth and I feel angry that so many people do not empathize with the desperation they feel.
And I want nothing more than to lift the fog that envelopes them to bring light back into their lives.
Why are so many moms in particular on anti-depressants? Is our job so overwhelming? Do we not have the resources to cope? Are we ashamed to admit we fall short? Do we give so much to our families that we do not have anything left for ourselves?
I don’t have the answers but my heart aches every time I talk to my dear friends who are struggling to find them.
At BlogHer, I met a pretty incredible woman whose spunk put me to shame. She has an incredible story to share of how, in the depths of depression, she tried to end her own life when she was seven months pregnant. She gave me permission to repost her story on Mile High Mamas today–a story that has haunted me since I read it.
Please go read. Comment. Share. And even if you are one of the fortunate souls who still has light in your life, please be empathetic and reach a hand out to those who are in darkness.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 