There’s this funny thing that happens sometimes. You see, I’m not just a writer, but also an internal processor and a raging introvert. This is a perfect storm of sorts, and it means that sometimes, I’ve written about something that I’ve shared or discussed with very few people.
It’s a little unnerving, then, when that story goes live on the Internet for anyone and everyone to read. Of course, the point is for people to read it, but that truth doesn’t fully negate the unnerved, vulnerable feeling.
When I was in the midst of postpartum depression, I talked about it with no one. In the aftermath, I’ve only gradually shared bits of and pieces of my experience. But now, this week, the story is here.
My former pastor, Zach, likes to say that our stories, when told truthfully, are good news for other people. That is my deepest hope when it comes to this story; I’m praying that hearing my story will help some mom somewhere connect the dots of her own story, feel less alone, and seek help.
I don’t think this is a story I’m done writing, yet. I know there are some stories that evolve and become more clear as time goes on. I sense that I’m not done learning from this part of my story just yet. So, maybe we’ll revisit it together some other time.