The nurse directed me back to a small room in the ER where Dr. B, my psychiatrist, was waiting.

I flashed a nervous smile, pulled my sleeves over the self-inflicted cuts on my arm and said, “I’m not doing good.”

He motioned to the chair and I sat.

“I think we need to change our plans Kim. I’m going to put you on a mood stabilizer and an anti-psychotic, ones that we use to treat people with bipolar disorder.”

“What?”

“Kim, you are bipolar.”

The magnitude of the diagnosis forcefully shook the smooth path of life that I was desperately trying to get back on.

I watched as it bent and curved and crumbled.

It grew hills and jagged mountains.

The path, once full of promise, now looked vapid; felt hauntingly uninviting.

It was too loud and too quiet.

It was too bright and too dark.

It felt too euphoric and too depressed and too angry.

It was too peaceful and too whimsical.

All at the same time.

You can read more of my guest post at Butterfly Confessions

Reaching out my weary hand from the darkness that enveloped me was the most difficult part on my road to recovery from postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety.

But it was necessary.

I couldn’t start my fight without asking for help, for leaning upon the tremendous support of my husband, family, friends and my awesome psychiatrist.

It didn’t mean that I was a failure.

It didn’t mean that I was a bad Mom.

It didn’t mean that I was weak.

It meant that I was human with a real medical illness.

Today I have the honour of writing for the very beautiful Susan at her blog Ava Grace’s Closet.

Please come join me there.

Hi Ladies,

You may or may not know that after the birth of my son, I struggled immensely with postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety. That was the reason I started to blog. 

I needed an outlet to share my feelings.

I needed my story to be heard.

I needed to find connections to women who have went through the same.

I needed to help at least one person with postpartum depression and give them hope.

This is my passion.

I just received an email stating that I was nominated for Circle Of Mom's Top 25 Postpartum Depression Blogs.

You guys are an amazing community and I am asking for your support. 

Could you please take a minute and head on over to Circle of Moms and check out all the amazing women who pour their soul out everyday to help other women.

Then can you vote??

It literally takes 2 seconds and can be done daily.

It would mean the world to me!!

Here is the link: http://www.circleofmoms.com/top25/top-postpartum-depression-mom-blogs-2012

Thank you so much ladies!!!

Kimberly

Blog: All Work And No Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something

It’s another night where sleep dances in a ridiculed fashion before my heavy eyes. I’m so exhausted yet the pain keeps me quite alert and ever so conscious of each electrifying nerve screaming through my right leg.  And then there are the terrifying thoughts that flood and weaken my soul. I try so hard to fight them.

But with only a few hours of sleep at a time, those thoughts sometimes seem quite logical.

That’s when they worry me the most.

Which is why, I’m sitting here at 3:30am, staring at this blank white space on my computer screen.

Distract.

Distract.

Distract.

Something in my soul snapped last week and I became very vulnerable to those thoughts. I am not ready to talk about what happened.

But I am ok. 

You can read more at All Work And No Play
 

You may not remember the scary night when the cops and paramedics came to take Momma to the hospital and I hope that you never do.

But I?

I will always remember.

I will remember your tiny fingers brushing the hair off my face.

I will remember your big brown eyes full of worry and concern.

I will remember you telling Daddy that “Momma is sad”.

I will remember the scared crack in your voice when you begged “Momma be happy”.

I will remember you tooting on Daddy’s lap and breaking the uncomfortable pain in the room with your uncontrollable giggles.

I will remember you and Daddy telling me “That it’s ok Momma” between lots of hugs and kisses.

But mostly I will always remember right after I was discharged, you flung your arms tightly around my weakened body and whispered in my ear…

“Momma make cookies tomorrow?”

I couldn’t help but smile. It was the encouraging push I needed to rip off the arm band and move forward. You made me realize the most important thing had been there all along holding my hand through this storm…

My 2 boys. 

You can read more at All Work And No Play

It lurkes in the thick shadows casted by the wall that happiness and recovery had built.

Pacing back and forth, back and forth.

It runs it’s sly fingers along the seemingly sturdy bricks, tracing the lines in the mortar, smirking at the walls unwary construction.

And It waits…

…and waits for moments when the unsuspecting mind is the most vulnerable.

…and  for moments when the soul is too weary and conflicted amongst chaotic life events.

It can taste the weakness in your voice.

It can hear the pain in your heart.

It can feel the brokenness in your spirit.

It knows when you’re too weak to fight.

It knows then, that it has you.

And slowly and painfully It begins chipping away at the faults in the mortar piece by piece.

It creates cracks in smiles.

Uncertainty in laughter.

Fear in confidence.

Chaos in rational thinking.

Thick fog where there was once clarity.

Heaviness in movement.

It steals your soul little by little; tucking it farther and deeper away from reality.

It steals your thoughts.

It steals your strength.

It steals your love.

It steals your voice.

It steals your hope.

It steals until there is nothing left of you but a shell of what you once were.

You are numb.

You are lost.

You feel alone.

And while you trudge through your painfully endless days, wondering how you will ever fight back, the hope and strength from others who love you are ready to work hard for you.

Their hope and love and strength ready to re-build that wall for you.

Brick. By. Brick.

Until that wall is strong enough for you to realize that it’s ok to lean on it; lean on them while you heal.

Allow them to be your defense against the depression while you try to become whole.

To become you again.

All you have to do is ask for help. 

You can read more at All Work And No Play

I pulled the blankets up over my shoulders and tucked them tightly under my chin. I stared out the window watching the few sparse patches of uncovered earth disappear under a light dusting of snow. Everything looked the same as the hard edges of objects blended into a colour pallet of grays and whites. It lacked liveliness; an almost numbness that seeped through my picture window and into my soul.

My vacant stare was broken by the small voice in the corner.

"Momma! Momma!"

He dangled a red dinky car in front of his face.

"Dis car is red."

I had guiltily wondered how long he had been trying to pull my presence through the thick fog of thoughts in my head. 

You can read more at All Work And No Play
 

Hi Mommas,

This is just a quick note to let you all know that I was nominated as a finalist in the Postpartum Voice of The Year Contest. The winner is chosen by votes and I could all use your help. I'm up against some big names in the blog world...ahem Heir to Blair is one...so I could use some help!

It takes 2 seconds to go to the link and vote. Of course I want you to vote for the blog post that you feel is most deserving

Here's the link and my post is titled The Bucket by @momgosomething

http://mypostpartumvoice.com/2011/01/24/postpartum-voice-of-the-year-finalists/ 

Thank you so much Mommas!

Kimberly

http://makemommygosomethingsomething.com
 

I awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and chatter coming from the kitchen. I kicked the warm covers away and began to stretch to waken my body when Champ let out an exhausted yawn. He placed his sleepy head on my lap and with his tail happily wagging. I reached my hands down to scratch the sweet spot behind his ears and in return, he planted a slobbering lick across my face. I chuckled trying to get him to stop and as if it were contagious, I could hear the laughter that roared from the kitchen. I couldn’t help but smile. 

What a blessed way to wake up on Christmas Eve morning. 

I made my way to the kitchen.  Shawn and Chunky looked up from their places at the table and greeted me with excited smiles. I could see that the tree was lit in the living room, ready for the night’s celebration. Christmas music softly played from the radio as Shawn and I discussed what needed to be cooked, baked, and cleaned in preparation for the night’s festivities. We both took in a breath before we left the table, knowing that it was going to be an extremely busy few days, but this time?

This time, I was ready.

You can read more of this post at All Work And No Play
 

When the fog dissipated, I slipped comfortably back into my shoes and I felt present. A sense of calmness soon waved through my soul and my thoughts became still. It was within this peaceful quiet of my mind that I became acutely aware of my surroundings. It’s like the world around me had been painted like a new beautiful portrait; waiting for me to rediscover it all.

For when you live in the fog of postpartum depression you don’t notice…

How bright colourful lights are.

The way that fresh fallen snow makes everything seem so still.

The way the bitter air creates those rosy cheeks I long to kiss.

You can read more of this post at All Work And No Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something