About two months after I gave birth to my daughter in 2022, everything they did started grating on me.
A casual comment about a table that hadn’t been cleaned felt like a damning judgment on my ability to run a household. An observation that the baby’s diaper needed to be changed meant I was a bad mother.
I resented their help, even when I really needed it.
Perhaps the above scenario would be expected for those with a contentious relationship with their in-laws. But I’d lived with them for a year and we have a very close relationship marked by open communication and honest conversations.
This shift, on my part, was entirely unexpected.
I would lash out at them and my husband. And no matter what they said to me, I refused to back down.
It came to a head one night when I’d yelled at them for trying to help our new helper settle into my home. My husband couldn’t get through to me and called up one of my closest friends, who cancelled all her plans and came over.
We spoke about many things, but she had one earnest plea: Get professional help.
It was the start of a years-long journey of getting diagnosed with post-partum depression, keeping an open mind – and eventually walking out of the shadows into the light.
A less obvious symptom
After speaking to a psychiatrist at KK Women’s and Children’s Hospital (KKH) for what felt like hours, she nodded and pointed out a few things: My low mood since my teens, a high score on the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale, and a telling symptom – an inability to consider a different perspective.
This was news to me, but exactly what had happened to me and my in-laws.
I’d always associated depression with feelings of sadness or numbness. But there are other less obvious symptoms, like a reduced ability to think clearly.
“Imagine staring at a computer for hours on end, unable to put down a coherent thought,” my psychiatrist told me.
That sounded familiar, but something I had brushed off as adjusting to motherhood, with sleepless nights on end and new schedules to adjust to.
The doctor ordered a daily dose of sertraline, and monthly counselling sessions with KKH’s in-house counsellor.
I was reluctant to accept my diagnosis and prescription, but acknowledged that my life – and marriage – might be blown to smithereens if I did not follow the doctor’s orders. With a prayer, I swallowed the little white pill right before bed, hoping for a miracle.
I’d been told that sertraline takes about two months to take effect. But the very next morning, I woke up without fear gripping my heart. I realised I had clarity of thought, a feeling I’d almost forgotten.
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Looking for ‘glimmers’
But even with medication, I also had to find ways to give my body and brain a boost.
Over the months, I took small steps like prioritising whole foods and probiotics, limiting my caffeine intake, taking up spin and reformer pilates classes and getting out of the house to get my daily dose of vitamin D.
I also made it a point to intentionally look for “glimmers” – or small moments to be grateful for in my life. This could be anything from home-cooked meals, pretend karaoke sessions in our car, and inside jokes.
Gratitude might sound like a new age practice, but has very real effects on our health, at least according to a 2024 study published in Jama Psychiatry.
The study looked at almost 50,000 women who completed a six-item gratitude questionnaire daily, and found that participants with the highest third gratitude scores had a 9 per cent lower risk of dying compared with participants who scored in the bottom third.
It made a big difference to me – particularly when some glimmers are free – like morning walks in the sunshine, which I cherish, especially when shared with my daughter.
I also made it a point to extend the practice to my daughter – before bedtime, we would think of and talk about things we are thankful for before ending the day.
But the biggest glimmer of all? Recognising that I was surrounded by people who loved every version of me – even the ugliest one. Like my husband, who gave me time and space to sort out my emotions. My in-laws, who never held a grudge against me, and continued to lend a helping hand whenever I needed it. And my friends, who accompanied me to spin and reformer classes and picked me up from rock bottom.
Recovery is not linear
In 2023, about a year since I was diagnosed, my medication had been adjusted to the lowest dose. I was optimistic I could come off my medication altogether and come to a full recovery.
However, work stressors caused me to slip right back into depression and overnight, my medication dose tripled to help stabilise my mood.
I was so close to full recovery, and now it felt like I was back to square one. To say I was dejected would be an understatement.
Through this, I realised that recovery is not a linear process. In my time as a communications professional in the consulting industry, I learnt the term “directionally correct” – meant to describe a situation where things are not perfect but the trajectory is going in the right direction.
It was the same thing for me. Full recovery may have felt out of reach, but I had recognised quickly that I was not doing well, and went to the doctor of my own accord. That was progress.
I had also been trying to do more to give my brain and body what they needed.
But it dawned on me that sometimes, it’s not about doing more. Now, I needed to live my life and let the healing process take place.
It took a year – but in September 2024, I asked my doctor if I was considered “recovered” from post-partum depression. I was optimistic: it had been months since I’d last taken an anti-depressant and did not seem to have relapsed.
I almost didn’t dare to believe it when she congratulated me and wrote a note to confirm my discharge from KKH’s care. It took a few days for the news to sink in.
It was unimaginable that I had come so far from that dark place I was in then.
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Today, a year on from my official discharge, I recognise the impermanence of what we have. I could well relapse into depression, or be afflicted with another illness. But I also have better insight into how my body works, what helps it thrive, and how to fit all this into my life.
I have also realised that resilience is admitting our own weaknesses and doing what we can to get back up again. When things don’t seem to be going our way, recognising the progress we’ve made and giving ourselves some grace is key for the path ahead.
Strength isn’t just found in perfect health or a storm-free life. It is also found in the support of others when we aren’t able to lift ourselves up.
On a recent family trip to Australia with my in-laws, I recall sitting at the kitchen table of our accommodation, sunlight streaming through the window, feeling thankful for those who were key in shaping my life over the last few years.
This life may not be perfect, and some days are downright hard. No amount of gratitude will take that away. But let someone – a doctor, a friend, or even a little white pill – shoulder your burdens with you, and be open to what may come as a result of that.
Diane Leow is editor, newsroom insights, at The Straits Times. She is a member of ST’s newsroom strategy team.
