Rivers and ribbons.

This will probably be the most frustrating and difficult thing to articulate because I'm ashamed. These things happen though and I have to be honest so I can accept this reality.

I checked myself into the emergency psychiatric unit a few days ago because I could no longer function or muster the strength to get out of bed and take my medications.

On Tuesday, while my baby slept a very terrifying thought occured to me. It was just one and I felt ashamed to look in the mirror or directly at her perfect face.

Frantic obsessive thoughts started racing through my mind and panic set in. I'd become fixated on the number three and trying to decipher its significance to my child's birthday. I'd see shadows and become increasingly paranoid that everybody was out to sabatoge me... including my body.

I stopped eating and drinking but I never stopped caring and going through the motions of being a nurturing and loving parent. Yet everytime she cried and I couldn't calm her I felt like breaking and that I was failing as a parent.

I'll admit, when dad is home... I curl up into a ball of nakedness and become nothing. I tried my best to be stoic but these thoughts of being a terrible parent and the guilt that ensued could not be pacified.

I became self destructive not only by not taking my medication but succumbing to believing that I was worthless and that I needed to disappear forever. Sparing you details, its safe to say that my decision to get help was probably the most logical and responsible thing to do.

I'm enrolled now, in an extensive outpatient therapy program that deals with a disorder called post partum psychosis... its supposedly rare but that was my diagnosis.

Arya is safe. I'm safe but the guilt and sadness is still there and ultimately the goal is to make peace with myself, forgive and eliminate this completely.

I appreciate all the open doors along the way... and I appreciate the ones that have shut for me to get where I am. I'm not there yet... but things take time and I know ultimately that I made the right decision to get help because this is bigger than me.

Maybe this will be my expecto patronum... I hope so.

Stop asking me what is wrong...

I don't know... and I certainly can NOT tell you how to fix it. If I could fix it... don't you think I would?

Stop telling me I'm not trying and telling me I am not ready to be a mother isn't making the matter better it just erases and invalidates the four and a half months that I have already been a mother.

No. I would not hurt my child... nor would I hurt any other child.

Please stop judging me for being naked and unable or unwilling to move by the end of the night... I've been moving all day and don't want to anymore. It's hot. I'm depressed and exhausted.

Stop saying you 'get it' because you clearly don't... especially if you're a guy and you have said all things listed above.

I don't need your professional opinion unless you are, in fact a professional... fyi reading something on the internet does NOT make you a professional.

I'm done. Don't reach out to me unless I reach out to you.