The Mind Wanderings of a Mum at a Crossroads

Part 3: A Touch of Darkness: When I knew.

My personal story about postnatal depression, the turning point, and rebuilding from the basics.

Disclaimer: This article shares my personal experience with postnatal depression. It is not intended as professional advice or guidance. If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health, I encourage you to seek support from a healthcare provider or mental health professional. There are resources available to help, and reaching out for assistance is a courageous and important step.

The moment I knew. April 15th 2023, my video log journal bodes a sombre moment.

“I just can’t do it”

“I feel like a crazy person. What mum doesn’t want their baby?”

“I love her so much, but I just. I just can’t do it”

“It’s just getting worse and worse”

“Everything I love just sucks”

When I had my third child, I was blindsided by something I hadn’t anticipated: postnatal depression. I’d faced challenges before—pregnancies that tested every ounce of my resilience, juggling work while physically unwell—but this? This was something else. It wasn’t just hard; it felt impossible.

For the first time in my life, I experienced tunnel vision and an all-consuming frustration simmering inside me. I didn’t recognise myself. This anger wasn’t physical or directed at anyone else—it was a frustrated, consuming rage at my situation, my inability to cope, and the guilt that followed.

My mind, once a comfortable space; a place of curiosity, ideas, and creativity. A “nice place to be” —became hostile. My thoughts were dark, self-centred, and completely warped. Perspective, something I’ve always prided myself on, vanished. I couldn’t see beyond my own misery.

No one could convince me things would get better. In my mind, my life was unfixable. I was a shell. My life was sh*t, and no one could tell me otherwise. So. Much. Darkness.

After putting off a Plunket appointment for far too long, I went. I caught myself after a sentence I’d just rattled off to my Plunket nurse and thought, wow…I casually just said that; like it was a normal thing to say; a normal way to feel. The conversation shifted to a different line of questioning, and with growing self-awareness, I realised where this was heading. That moment, I knew. A follow-up with my GP confirmed what I suspected: postnatal depression. ?

I was so looking for someone to save me. Someone to come in and just make everything better. It wasn't until I accepted: this was my battle, and the only way out was through. I had to take action, however small.

Things felt impossible, and I was so lost. I found comfort in going back to basics. I structured my days so specifically, so meticulously, and with absolute clarity. I had non-negotiables; things that were seriously achievable in my day, nothing monumental. Things like: showering, out of sweatpants by 10am, drink 2L of water, limit to two caffeinated drinks, journal or video log weekly, and to get outside — rain or shine.

I tracked these tasks in a straightforward app, ticking off each box. No fancies. The repetition was comforting, a reminder that I was taking action to help myself. A simple purpose: this is what I need to do to feel good. Parent myself.

No, I didn’t achieve everything every day, but most of the time I did. On the days I didn’t, I made a conscious effort to remind myself that 60-70% completed is a heck of a lot better than what I was doing. My perspective was kicking in.

Once I felt ready, I set longer-term goals. One was signing back up to my exercise camp—a nine-week challenge that tested me physically and mentally. Another was participating in keeping-in-touch days to stay connected with my workplace.

I even introduced the concept of a ‘clean-room’. One room in the home that was to remain free-of-clutter, free-of-dishes, free-of-toys, free-of-everything. A room that, when the remainder of the house signalled chaos or to-dos, I could retreat to at any given moment. Enjoy a cup of tea for the 10-minute nap my wee one typically took.

Those who know me know I have… lets just say, high standards of my home being in a tidy manner at all times. With one child, it was manageable. With two, it became harder, especially since my second was so different from my first. With three? Impossible. The clean-room was a compromise I made with myself to reset my reality and work within my season. The whole family got on board.

These habits might seem mundane, but when life felt overwhelming, simplicity was essential for my wellbeing.

It’s okay to ask for help. The rational mind knows that. I had a vulnerable, raw conversation with my husband. He knew something was wrong but wasn’t sure what or how to help. His well-intentioned solution had been to take the kids out on adventures while I stayed home alone. While he thought this gave me a break, I felt isolated, missing out on family fun and still surrounded by a never-ending to-do list.

Through that conversation, I explained what I needed. I wanted to be part of the adventures and memories. And, sometimes I’d need a push. I also asked for something specific – for one week, please take any night feed before 2am. And he did. By this one action, I got 5-6 hours of sleep-recovery, every night, for 1 week. It helped immensely. Balance began to return, and so did my perspective.

Breaking my life into manageable pieces gave me clarity. I stopped trying to solve everything at once and focused on what I could control or influence. Slowly, those small actions added up. They gave me a sense of momentum and I began to feel like myself again. Not the same person I was before, but someone stronger, more self-aware, and intentional about what truly matters.

This experience has reminded me of the power of going back to basics when life feels overwhelming. It’s the simple, intentional actions—like stepping outside, writing down your thoughts, asking for help, or limiting and prioritising habits—that can make an impactful difference.

Today, my family still honours the ‘clean-room’ concept (most of the time), and it remains a space of calm amidst the chaos.

A touch with adversity has deepened my understanding of my values and mindset. Much like my earlier reflections, simplicity and intention can free myself from things I can't control, and create more space for the things that give me life.

Progress is possible, even if it feels slow or imperfect.

This continues the reflections and revelations shared in my previous wanderings, The Swiss Army Knife of Time, and Fog to Focus: Navigating 'The Fuzz'. If you haven't read them, please feel free to check them out.