On Being to Blame – Part 3

While my last post got too long so I broke it up (Part 1 and Part 2), this post is a result of what happened after I shared my story of PPD. Like my PPD story, it is something I have a very difficult time articulating coherently out loud with those that I love most dearly. 

I didn’t realize your PPD was so bad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this when it was happening?”

This statement and question, spoken tentatively, vulnerably, and filled with emotion from the mouths of my people… the ones I can’t live without… cuts me with fear. I don’t want them to feel bad or think they could have done more. I don’t want them to believe it is about the trust in our relationship.

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Quarterly Call

With minutes left before I was ready to shut down my computer and head out to pick up the kids, my phone rang. A familiar number flashed on caller ID and instead of letting it go to voice mail (as nearly every call I get does) I answered. The cheerful voice on the other end greeted me with an uncomfortably loud, but comfortably familiar, “RUTHIEEEEEE!!!!!!”

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Stuck in the Mud

If there has been a theme of the week, it is that I don’t want to do anything. I don’t think there is anything wrong with me except that I’d like to be on vacation more than I would like to be at work. If given the choice, I would choose a tropical locale by myself for vacation. Just saying. I feel glacial, like I need to slowly move from one thing to the next… or not at all. My feet have lost their hustle. I just want to be.

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