My dear friend, you're going through a really rough patch, I can see it in your eyes. As a newly-minted Mum, you're still rocked to the core by the brutality of a difficult birth. You still feel like you are watching it over and over again as a third person, suspended from the ceiling in the delivery suite, no longer an active participant in the choices that may affect you for years.
You tentatively get out of bed and as you take each ritual step into the nursery you realise that your steps are a little lighter and the quick sand you feel yourself walking through most days is now more like a muddy puddle. Your head feels, dare you say it "clearer" and the morning routine not as daunting.
I am also not ashamed to admit that I am angry beyond belief that it chose me in the first place. I didn't want this battle. I just wanted to be a mum. I wanted the full Technicolor heart bursting moments, I wanted to be exhausted from night feeds rather than exhausted from trying to keep my panic levels under control.
There is no woman out there who has gone through the life changing and shit scary ordeal of bringing a tiny human, kicking and screaming into the world that can hand on heart say they have not thought at least once that they are losing their mind whether it be the result of one of "those" days or the early signs of post natal illness.
While people from the world of comedy are 'outing' themselves as depressives, I'm left wondering if this is doing the image of mental illness any good. Television programmes encouraging people to tell their work colleagues about their struggle with mental health are good in terms of raising awareness but aren't they potentially exploitative as well?
Frank Field has hit the headlines again this week talking about how we measure poverty and improve life chances for children.