Postpartum depression is something rarely seen as a serious mental illness. There’s this misconception that postpartum depression is a temporary illness, and one that people will eventually get over. However, postpartum depression is an incredibly debilitating illness and one that can be extremely dangerous to you, your family and your baby if not address properly. More importantly, you can overcome postpartum depression and help is waiting for you. You just have to be willing to reach out.
This is Ana Wallace’s story about struggling with depression and anxiety, attempting suicide, overcoming postpartum depression and ultimately, finding a life that she never wants to let go of.
My Depression, Anxiety and Postpartum Depression Saved My Life
Hi, I’m Ana Wallace and my story doesn’t begin with postpartum. Rather, it’s the end of my story and the beginning of a new chapter. I went from wanting to escape this world for more than two decades to ultimately finding a life that I never want to give it. This is my story.
Where It All Began
When I look back and think of when I first really knew that I had depression and anxiety, I would have to say I was about 15 years old. I was in 8th grade and really began questioning why I was here in this place? What was my purpose on this earth? I was self-harming at the time and was just in a super dark place – a place I’m sure many of you reading this can relate to.
I did reach out for help but then I tried to end it all. This resulted in me being Baker-Acted (forced into a mental health hospital) where I felt even more forced to get help that I didn’t necessarily want at the time. Things got worse when I began using drugs and alcohol to mask my pain when I was about 19 years old, and the battle I was having with myself continued on a downward spiral for the next 9 years. I was on a constant roller coaster of depression and anxiety…
Traveling Abroad and By Myself Saved Me
My First Signs of Postpartum Depression
The Anxiety of Being a New Mom Was Unbearable
Then, Postpartum Depression Crept In
It didn’t take long for my panic attacks to trigger my depression. In fact, it began to eat away at me like it did when I was younger. So, I finally sat down with my husband with tears in my eyes, holding my son and saying “John, I can’t do this anymore…. Either I get help or I am going to die.”
Reaching Out Saved My Son From Growing Up Without a Mom
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