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Ok... here goes. Or not... as I was sitting down to write this blog, all the thoughts and feelings just washed over my and so did the tears. Tears and anger have become my daily companions and trying to cope with the day to day running of a family of five has become too big a mountain for me climb by myself. So today I went to my GP and asked for help. Boy that was a biggie... asking for help. Even though in my rational mind I know it is exactly the opposite, in the moment I had never felt so low and such a failure as I did in that doctors surgery. My GP is great, with boxes of tissues at hand and a reassuring smile and the most patient listening ear, I finally gave up being Superwoman and started sharing some of the load I had been carrying. And now I officially suffer from depression. I'm kind of two ways about that. It is kind of daunting, scary even perhaps. But at the same time it is also kind of a relief... it's not just me overreacting, it's not just in my head (even though I guess it actually is). So now what. For the moment we're still holding off on the medication. Giving St Johns Wort a try first. She gave me a whole heap of information to go through, had me sign up on depression.org.nz and counselling. And that one's gonna hurt. Laying bare a wound that I know is a very deep and painful one. And although every fibre in my body tells me not to go there, not to open the floodgates, my head (and I guess deep down inside also my heart) tells me that this is the one and only way to heal myself, rescue our marriage and give my children the loving safe place to thrive they so deserve. Because right now, Mummy is broken...
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