Three months ago I walked through this same door, and passed these same tables. I walked to the same counter and placed the same order. I love Chick-fil-a’s Grilled Market Salad, and my husband knows just how much, which is why we were there on that day three months ago.
That day was a rough day. A rough week. A rough month. The thing about postpartum depression, and depression in general, is that it can be a constant rollercoaster. You never know when it’s going to strike hard, and when you think you’re feeling okay, you just pray that feeling stays for a while. On that day three months ago, I felt like I was dying on the inside. I was broken to say the least. I sat at the table next to the indoor playground with puffy, tear-filled eyes. My husband took my hand and told me over and over, it’s going to be okay. It will get better. I believed him sometimes, but I didn’t on that day. I didn’t know why I was sad, I just was. And I couldn’t change it.
As I blankly stared towards the play area, the tears started streaming. I hid them with sunglasses as the flow got worse from watching my babies laugh and play together. I wanted to be in there with them, sliding down the slide and dancing through the tunnels. Instead, I just sat and prayed that I would stop crying because I didn’t want to ruin everyones day. I was there physically, yes, but I wasn’t there in any other way. I had carried this sorrow around and I couldn’t, for the life of me, get it to go away.
It took a life event to make me reevaluate everything. I realized that the medications I was taking were making me feel uncharacteristically numb so I knew I needed to make some changes; I started taking a conglomeration of supplements and eating healthier and within one week, I was completely off of all of my prescription medications.
Today I walked through these doors with a real, radiant and genuine smile. I wore it like I wore my first pair of Nike Shox, with confidence. I quickly ate my salad so I could make sure we all finished at the same time. I was ready to dive into that play area with my precious children. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. We played and we laughed. Mommy, watch me! My little Ava was so proud that I was in there with her. She never stopped smiling. Neither did I.
I am beyond grateful for the last 1.5 months of life, depression-free. I have me back, and I get to be the wife and mom that I’ve always wanted to be, and mean it. I will forever praise the Lord for His deliverance and for hearing my cries for help. I feel that my purpose in life is to share this story; a story of hope and deliverance. If you or someone you know is battling depression, please contact me. Don’t battle in silence, because it will take over.