On PND and laughter (and on how my husband gets taken for a gay guy at a pub)
Friday, 16 December 2011 
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I had a Moaning Myrtle kind of an evening last night – I have been not been taking my Citalopram as often as I should and it looks like it’s caught up with me. I was feeling very very glum and annoyingly teary.
“My God, woman, it’s been 3 years, pull yourself together!” I kept telling myself… but since I had spent the day talking either to pregnant people or to people who’d just had a beautifully peaceful selective-section, the feelings of total failure and humiliation just all came flooding back.
Thankfully when J came home after 10 sometime, he provided me with some humour to end the day on a slightly positive note.
“You know someone tried to pick me up at the pub!” [...]
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