OHMYGOD I Am One Of THEM. AKA: I’m clearly medicated

Did I just totally gush out on you? Dearchrist. I just re-read my post and…

I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth.

When I started blogging, I was in grad school. I was plowing through programming which at the time, was akin to having my toenails shaved by the lovely asian gals until my toes were nubbins of bone. I used to envision this as I was studying the Java Sun Packages. I’d think, “SCRRAAAPEEE” toe one. “Scrraapppe” This is probably one of the reasons I never liked Java. I like my toes too much.

But then I got pregnant, finished up my thesis, had a baby and dipped in to PPD. I remember reading people’s blogs who were so thrilled to be mothers.

I wanted to kick their asses.

Or drink a lot of gin straight from the bottle.

I used to gag, mentally at least, at the joyful posts of parents who rejoiced in their children.

My kid didn’t sleep. That bitch. And I was tired.

I recovered thanks to medication and a therapist and became a mom. Then I got knocked up again.

And off the medicine.

And got a little crazy.

Or, “KrayKray” as V would say.

I’m open about my PostPartum Depression. I’m open about it because I don’t feel at fault, but rather I understand the imbalance of hormones shifting can cause a drastic change after the birth of a child. Toss in sleep deprivation and you can get pretty whacky.

I’m planning on going off the medicine eventually. My therapist said it takes roughly two years for most synapsis to go back after the change, physical change, that occurs after you have a child. I just think I’m uber cool saying, “My therapist” like I’m some hip Californian who runs on the beach at sunrise and attends spa yoga. I say it with a lisp. “My THERAPYSHT”

It’s been two years. We’re now diving head long in to two and a half. But winter here is long and dark and I will wait until the light comes back before I make that change now. And I am ok with that. I am ok with having a little extra help in the mean time, after adjusting to the change of children. I’ll re-evaluate next spring when the day comes back.

But for now you might get more Happy Happy Joy Joy posts. But I promise to try to keep them to a minimum.

And throw in some good cock.

Because damn, that’s funny.