Writing has been hard these last 9-ish months. Obviously, having a baby has been a big part of it, because babies have this tendency to be time consuming and all absorbing and amazing and distracting in the best kind of way.

But another, quite big, part of it is that I’ve felt that I’m constantly failing and that I’d come across as having nothing positive to say, as hating my life or my daughter (god no) or…. something. I may have been overthinking things a little.

A couple of weeks ago I was officially diagnosed with post-natal depression, which makes all the crazy make sense, kind of.

Getting diagnosed initially made things better (oh hey, there really IS something wrong with me. Great!), then worse (oh hey, there really is something wrong with me. Great.)

And then my brain played all kinds of tricks on me, which I guess it was already doing, but now I’m aware of it which makes it one more thing on the list of “stuff to deal with”.

On the other hand, I’m writing again, which is probably good.

There’s more to say, but I think I’m done with sharing right now.