It was R U OK? Day last year when my depression secret was spilled.
My husband wrote a heartfelt, poignant piece (with my permission) for Essential Baby about our journey to understanding and accepting my diagnosis, and the one question he wished he had asked me.
At the time it was so painful to admit to the world that my life wasn’t the perfect facade I’d portrayed it to be. But the outpouring of love and support that followed made me realise hiding from the truth was only going to set me back, not propel me towards healing.
A year later, though, I’ve realised I’m back to feeling guilt and shame. And it’s because of one simple question which haunts my subconscious every single day: “What on earth have you got to be depressed about?”
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