on sharing, and oversharing

There are times when I question, "Why on earth am I sharing so much, some of my most innermost thoughts and feelings, with the whole world, on the internet?"

And honestly, I have no idea.

If you think about it logically, it really doesn't sound like the smartest idea. Why lay your heart stripped bare for all to see?

At times, it feels stupid. Like I say too much self-centered introspective rubbish. Like I say things that should be left unsaid. But I don't sometimes. For every words written, for every post, there are a thousand more that could be shared, and I choose not to. It's icebergs all over again. However, the things I do share, I share because of the connection. I love writing and knowing that somebody gets what I am trying to say. I love finding out that other people think and feel and act the same way I do. I love finding out that I'm not crazy. I write to know that this is normal. Or not normal... but it doesn't make me the most despicable person in the world either. And I write to make memories for my babies, and for me.

I write because I love it. I write because so often I don't have the words. Especially when it comes to the bad times, it can feel like there's a gag over my mouth. The words won't come out. Sometimes I don't want to share because I am terrified of being anyone's burden. But communication is one of the keys to breaking free of these chains. When I write, and the people I love read it, they can help. Be it by starting conversations, offering assistance in practical ways, or even just praying. I believe that evil prospers through silence. When I share (and overshare) I am trying not to give the darkness a foothold.

But I have also been made aware that much of the time I can make things seem worse than they are. When I write about the bad times, I ought to make it clear that they are far and few between. For the majority of the time, everything is okay. So okay in fact, that I sometimes feel guilty asking for (and receiving) help. I know that there are many different types of depression, and I know that what I am suffering from is not as bad as it gets.

I also want to make it clear that my children are safe. They have always been safe. They always will be safe. If I ever got to the point where I could not adequately care for them, there are many people who would step in and see to it that they were okay. But I am a long way from that ever happening. And (God willing) I don't foresee that ever happening

So. The reason I write isn't really to draw attention to myself. I'm not trying to over-dramatize how things are, and I never intend to make people feel sorry for me. I am just trying to get better, and communicate, the best way I can. And I hope that by writing about the bleak times, maybe this can help another Christian Mum with Post-natal-depression. That she can know that it is possible to feel this way, and still hold onto God, and be held by him.