I’ve come to know my brain through trial and error. But PND was different, like having a neurotic couch-surfing aunt come to stay
Before I had PND, I already had a psychotic illness. I’ve had it since I was about ten, existing in the gaps between reality and unreality. It’s confusing and distressing. I often go out in my car and forget how to drive and also what a car is and why streets exist. Sometimes I panic to the point of total dissociation, which is like seeing yourself replayed in a movie you can’t remember shooting.
I had presumed, being mental already, that I’d get postnatal depression. How could I avoid it? I could barely go to the supermarket without crying (why are there so many kinds of yoghurt for the love of God!). While I was pregnant, I’d already conceded defeat, getting my black dog a new bed and a fancy ceramic bowl.
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