Postpartum Depression

What have I done? 

What have I done giving birth to myself? 

I worked so hard, labored, to bring myself into the world. 

And what is this that I feel? 

Depression? 

Nostalgia? 

Resentment?

– because I can never go back to my way of life before? 

A life that was painful – but easier in a way. 

Easier because it was built on self annihilation, self neglect, self betrayal, denying my needs, desires, hopes, dreams. 

I never had to take responsibility for those things because I was committed to never really having a self. 

Do I resent the responsibility I now have to respect myself? 

Do I regret that I actually have to show up for myself in the world now? 

Do I resent the weight of my own happiness being my own responsibility? Mine to either potentially find – but also to potentially fuck up? 

Am I nostalgic for a life where the pain of self abandonment was preferable to the burden of self autonomy? 

No one told me. 

That in the wake of self birth, I’d discover a sea so vast: of grief. 

Grief for all the years where I deemed myself unworthy of existence, of nurture, of love, of happiness. 

I never expected to discover such ambivalence here. 

Resentment, nostalgia, grief,  fear, sadness and yet 

hope, joy, compassion, love and creativity abounding. 

How strange and surprising to discover ambivalence to be a signpost of authenticity. 

How strange to learn that integrity is more closely related to ambiguity than it is certainty. 

For is anything in life ever just one thing? 

Perhaps those who are convinced it is are simply convinced most of all of their own illusions, mistaking their latent dissociation as an established, normative, and absolute way of viewing the world. 

Regardless of how I feel, I now have myself.

And I have a responsibility to do everything I can to nurture it into fullness for the betterment of the world.

To provide for it. Protect it. Sacrifice for it. Advocate for it. 

So grieve what you need to grieve, 

– but also get going. 

Don’t ruminate, dream too

– for you finally can. 

One day at a time, you’re healing. 

I suspect it will get easier. 

Through labor, toil, and love you brought yourself into the world.

Now the real work begins: 

– to participate fully before your eventual disappearance.