I have noticed that I have been popping in a piece of dark chocolate in my mouth at every hour, after the first one right after I get up in the morning until the last one before brushing my teeth at night. I call it, my drug. This new habit started in the past two weeks as my fatigue started to build up unbeknownst to me. Then on Friday I had a cup of green tea latte, a very sweet one that was prepackaged, and a few bites of plain bread for dinner. I actually wanted to a tomato and mozzarella cheese sandwich, but I did not want to pay eight dollars for it so I just grabbed a roll and an instant sugar infused caffeine drink. I regretted this choice all through the following sleepless night.
Saturday morning, I woke up totally unrested. My back pain from the day before was still bothering me, and my head was clouded for no reason. I was asking TH, ‘why I am in a bad mood this morning.’ Soon after we started to argue about picking a location for a brunch meeting with our friends that was happening in a few hours. This built up tension getting released to each other at the beginning of weekend has become our new routine in Korea. My cacao overdosed brain and TH’s weak stomach attach each other and come out brutally injured.
I think it is postpartum depression trying to tell me something. I am due in two months, and I am already scared of another round of PPD. I have seen myself go through it twice already, and it is not something I am looking forward to. Especially I don’t want to see the face of anger so bluntly staring at me nay more. How it manages to have her upper hand on me when I am weakened is disgusting. Anger, I hate you!
On Sunday I heard a pastor saying that we start blaming other people when we lose hope. Right, that’s what depression does to people. It steals hope from a heart. I wish I knew how depression accomplishes that so I can guard my hope better. It seems depression knows my weak spots-my insecurities, and unfulfilled desires. Maybe it wants to tell me something I did not know.
I believe motherhood can be a place of personal growth if one sets her mind to it. Stripped of many masks I used to put on to please myself and others, I am now forced to look at my bare soul in this unique place called motherhood. To be here, I ought to live for someone else besides me in my most waking hours. In return I have a permission to observe how a human life begins with all its mystery. Obviously I do not remember my own beginning, and it is so satisfying to see with my own eyes how Hope is growing to be a person everyday.
Hard truth is that depression does not do the cost and benefit calculation. It makes me forget any good meaning of being a mom and a wife. It nullifies every hard work I have done, and leaves me with self hatred. Writing this, I am sucking on my last piece of Lindt 70% cacao bar. Its effect it instantaneous. I am able to do this!