The year was 2005, and life was good—really good. The first half of the year was filled with so many happy moments. My husband graduated from grad school with honors. Two weeks later, I gave birth to our third beautiful daughter. And ONE (yes, one) week after that, we moved to a different state for my husband’s job.

Not just any state—we moved to sunny California. Life was supposed to be amazing. We had tickets to Disneyland, we went to the beach regularly, I had a beautiful, healthy baby… what could possibly go wrong?

Well, all of that happened in less than a month, it was a lot. After we moved, my husband’s job became very demanding. Between work and commuting, he was gone more than he was home. That left me alone with three small children. My oldest had just started first grade, and on her very first day, the school put her on the wrong bus. They lost my child for a couple of hours. Panic doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt.

I had no friends, no family nearby, and suddenly no support with my husband working so much. I tried to create a routine, tried to make things work—but everything felt harder and harder. On the outside, it looked like I had a beautiful life. We went to Disneyland in the evenings and to the beach on weekends.

But don’t let the smiles fool you.

During the week, when the kids were at school or napping, I sat and cried. I couldn’t understand why I was struggling so much. Why did I hurt? Why did I feel so hopeless? As the days turned into weeks, I started losing interest in everything. My husband would have to push me to go out. I was constantly exhausted, and I felt completely broken.

The worst part? I didn’t know why.

This went on for months—almost a year—before I finally figured it out: postpartum depression.

As I started researching, I realized I had almost every symptom listed, including those described by MayoClinic . Things like mood swings, excessive crying, withdrawal from loved ones, exhaustion, loss of interest in activities, feelings of hopelessness, and even anxiety and panic. The moment I began having thoughts of suicide, I knew I needed help. I couldn’t keep living like that—and honestly, I didn’t want to.

As you’ll come to know about me, I am a very religious person. I believe deeply in God. But during this time, I found myself distancing not only from my family, but from Him as well.

One day, I was sitting in my closet, crying and asking God, “Why?” I remember thinking, “Are you even there? Why won’t you listen to me?” As I sat there, ready to give up, a small thought entered my mind: “I’m not the one not listening.”

It was quiet and gentle, and it caught me off guard.

I was angry and upset and this was something I would not think on my own. As I sat and thought about it, more thoughts came. One that I will never forget was: “I will not yell. I will not shout. I will not cause chaos. There is only one who does that.”

In that moment, I realized something powerful. The chaos, the noise, the confusion—that wasn’t from God. I had been so overwhelmed that I couldn’t hear the quiet answers He was trying to give me.

That’s where my healing began.

I wanted to try to overcome this without medication, if possible. So I started praying and asking for help. The answer I felt impressed to follow was simple: find three things every day that brought me happiness.

So I did.

Every day, I searched for those three things. And on the days when sadness felt overwhelming, I tried to find even more. It was not easy. In fact, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I remember one particularly bad day—one of the worst. I felt completely empty and convinced there was nothing to be happy about. As I stood in the kitchen, overwhelmed and frustrated, I opened the snack cupboard. I already knew it was empty—I hadn’t gone grocery shopping in days.

But as I moved a few boxes, I found something tucked in the back: a box of Good & Plenty.

I almost cried.

That small, forgotten treat—my favorite candy—became my joy for the day. It was a tiny moment, but it mattered.

Now, I can’t say everything magically got better. Life doesn’t work that way. I still have moments where I feel overwhelmed or hopeless. There was even a time when I needed medication. I worked with doctors, adjusted doses, and while it helped my thoughts, it also made me feel unlike myself.

So, with my husband’s support, I found my way back to focusing on joy and building a support system. On hard days, he helps me—whether that means getting me out of the house, listening while I vent, or encouraging me to try something new.

What I hope you take from my story is this:

Mental health is real. Depression is real. And getting through it can feel like hell.

But with help—from doctors, from loved ones, and for me, from God—you can get through it.

You can do hard things.

And most importantly: don’t give up. Tomorrow can be better.

Ethics Note: this post addresses mental health sensitivity, it is something that affect many people and me personally. I linked major health organization to help address systems. I sought to bring awareness and advocate for others letting them know, they are not alone.

Mayo Clinic Postpartum Depression Link