I’m sitting at my desk, trying to concentrate. On anything. It’s impossible. No, I should rephrase that, it’s “challenging” is the term I’ve been taught to use. I can’t focus. I have no motivation. And it’s been like this for nine months. I’ve been treated for depression twice in the past and promised I’d never let myself get depressed again. “Let myself” – that phrase shows how ignorant I still was. Whilst on maternity leave, I became snappy, lethargic, irritable, moody and low. I was certain that it was all due to being a mother with a newborn. All new mums are exhausted, right? I couldn’t be bothered to see people, to cook, to do anything really. But surely it was all down to extreme tiredness? I couldn’t be depressed. I come from a secure background, have a loving and supportive husband and family, close friends, a good job (I’m a doctor, did I mention that?), a beautiful house and no financial worries. I had no reason to be depressed. I was diagnosed, however, with depression and anxiety. How could I let it happen again? That’s the point – I didn’t “let it happen”. It’s not my fault. Depression and anxiety are medical illnesses. Like diabetes. Or heart failure. It could hap
📖 افتح في inklap 🔗 DOI 📮 اطلب بحثاً