The Postparty

I'm not sure if it's the long Thanksgiving weekend-with-wine or what, but I'm going to compare the postpartum experience to a drink. This may be wrong and offensive, but I'm going with it. I'm calling it "The Postparty".

There are people that think you can only have one part of the postpartum cocktail: depression, OCD or psychosis. I don't think this is true. I think it can be kind of a mudslide from one to the other. For example, mine started with OCD which became so intense that I became depressed and wanted to commit suicide. It was the only way I could figure out how to stop the intrusive, repulsive thoughts. I wanted to feel peace.

Then my experience kind of slid into a delusional state while I tried to find a reason for the images I was experiencing. Here was my explanation: I was the daughter of the devil.

And no, I wasn't drinking when I made up that decision. But I believed it with every fiber of my being. It explained everything...all those horrific images that banged around my head was because I was Satan's daughter and I was pure evil. I was totally comfortable with that explanation. Some people have issues with their in-laws; I was the Devil's daughter. Everyone has obstacles in life, right? Mind was just a little different.

My point is this. There are a few different ingredients that comprise a "postparty". Some women are heavy on the depression with a sprinkle of anxiety. Some women have a shot of OCD, with a squirt of psychosis and depression coats the rim. Some women go with a straight shot psychosis.

Every postparty is unique and different.

This is why treatment is so particular and so important that all feelings, images, behavior, family history is explained to the doctor (or this blog's case, the bartender). I don't care if it takes an hour to tell the bartender how you're feeling and what you're experiencing. It's his/her job to listen and help you turn the lights on at the end of the night. He can help you find the godforsaken lightswitch.

Everyone's postparty is different and unique. Some women have mixed drinks, some have straight shots. Some are more bitter than others. Some are more hard-hitting than others. Some will knock you right off your ass.

But waking up and seeing the light is something we all have in common. Getting through to the other side and never having to go back to the obnoxious, dark bar again is a gift like no other. Trust me, it happens. You will make your way out and feel clear, sober and free again. You'll not only make it, you'll make it better. I know this because I've been there in that dank, dark bar wondering where the hell I was, looking for the exit sign. If I found it, so can you. Take your time and find your way. You can do it.