Motherhood, what a blessing. And mental illness, what a prison. And yet, some days, I mistake motherhood for the prison. I love my children, to a debilitating degree. No one could have ever prepared me for what being a mother does to your heart. I was nineteen when I had my first child. I can say motherhood was wonderful yet stressful not to mention that sleep derivation and depression didn’t help I was un-diagnosed as bipolar for all of my teenage years and adult life.
I was misdiagnosed more times than I can count guess you can say I got really good at wearing a mask and pretending that’s how I see myself in life always pretending and hiding my true self no one knows the pain I am in and the few times I have expressed it it has fell upon deaf ears or the people I trusted betray me so I hide the pain and suffering sometimes it breaks through and people catch a glimpses .
Antidepressants and mod stabilizers do not work for me either am allergic or have some weird reaction to the medications so I just struggle along as best as I can .
I have given up on trying to find a medication that works and am just trying my best to live with these weird moods.
One thing that helps me is tracking my moods sometimes I will not be depressed or hypo-manic or manic I guess that is my normal period other times it seems I will be stuck in a persistent low grade (mild depression ) I have learned how to function with low grade depression I can get through a day no problem it seems hardest at night after all the children are asleep and then my brain just raves up and the thoughts just spew forth some days writing them down is all it takes to turn it off other days there is no turning them off and I have to find ways to distract my brain so I don’t fall down the rabbit hole of what if’s and if only s .
Dpressedmuslimah 