Overachiever {A tale of PPD}.

So Thanksgiving in 2011 was pretty rough. (Bear with me, I’m just now getting around to writing this post that’s been sitting in my head since Thanksgiving 2012.)  I had been recently (officially) diagnosed as having postpartum depression/anxiety.  The last thing I could think of was socializing with anyone.  The last thing I wanted to do or thought I was capable of was socializing or anything more than laying in bed.  But we were invited to our friends’ house and we were assigned dessert.  There weren’t going to be many people there and they were our friends, easy peasy.

Except not.

It was terrifying. The thought of having to go and put on my face to hang out was so overwhelming.  I was panicking thinking I’d have to go and be social for a few hours while we visited.  I wondered how I’d do it and not just spontaneously bust in to tears or whether someone that my eyes were empty and on the verges of tears for no apparent reason.

I couldn’t even focus enough to want to make dessert.  I never take store bought stuff.  EVER.  You tell me to bring something and I see how I can outdo myself.  Last year (2011) though, I was at least smart enough to know that it didn’t matter.  No martyr here. We went to Sam’s and bought 3 giant pies.

This year, I felt better. I feel good.  A whole different place from where I was then.  I still get nervous at the idea of having to go and be “on,” especially when there’s new people I don’t know.  But I knew I wanted last year to suck it.  I needed to prove it to myself and everyone else.  We were assigned dessert again and THIS year, I was gonna kill it.

I did.

In true overachiever style, two pies (Pioneer Woman’s pecan pie is now my go to dessert), and 24 turkey cupcakes later, it was done. And I was proud.


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