I haven’t been writing my usual deep posts as of late.
I’ve been relying on lists, humour, my blog awards.
I’m a PPD/A survivor.
Surviving.
This week my PPD called out to me. I had almost forgotten where I put it.
Amongst the rainy overcast days, lack of sleep, and sickness overwhelming the house it saw the chance to creep back into my life.
It began with whispers, so soft it felt like wisps of hair along my cheek, reminding me that I am tired and weak.
The whispers became louder like a strong wind telling me to give up, to go back to bed.
The winds turned to strong rain and hail demanding I surrender and scream out with defeat.
I almost did.
Almost.
Last night found me curled up with the blistering winds swirling around me.
Tears stinging my eyes.
The battle between being strong and asking for help waging a war inside of me.
But then.
I was rescued.
The man I love knows me.
He knows when the weather around me becomes dangerous.
He knows when I need him.
I was saved.