My daughter was born on 4 January, overnight. It wasn’t an easy labour. It lasted more than 24 hours and ended up in an emergency caesarean. When the nurse brought her to me from the surgery room, I thought to myself, “Am I supposed to hold this baby now?” It was the first time I had held a baby. Most of my friends and relatives have kids, many of them were teenagers at that point, but somehow I had managed to never hold a baby. It wasn’t by chance: I’ve never liked them and had always felt afraid of having my own.
I have lived with depression since I was a teenager. It’s hard to explain what suffering from chronic depression is like. Many of us learn how to operate on a daily basis, sitting with sadness in the moments when we are alone, or with our closest family. But there’s a lot of suffering. For me, mornings are the worst. I struggle to find a reason to start my day, and I have to use every tool in my kit to get my mind out of that loop. Most of those tools involve allowing myself to be sad and grumpy for a couple of hours, while I gather strength and my mood starts to change. It’s a tedious daily task that requires time and focus on oneself.
