March 4, 2015

The nightmares are getting worse. Each time I die a more gruesome death… last night I was beheaded. The screams get worse, the crimes I’m being accused of are getting more and more obscene, the colors and images more grotesque. I can still smell the blood from where the blade chopped off my neck. I picture Ferlen’s blackened eyes filled with hatred and disgust and I want to scream. When I woke last night, I slipped out of bed and sat down on the floor by Ferlen, just listening to his breathing and reminding myself that he loves me no matter what. I hide the dark circles under my eyes well, but I know he’ll suspect something’s wrong soon enough… if my fatigued manner doesn’t give me away, I will cry out or sit up suddenly and wake him again… why should I feel so guilty? The guilt drives the dreams, and a terrible fear stems from it. I am afraid the guilt, worthless feelings, and the emptiness will overwhelm me…. Today I went to the Muggle library to look up my symptoms- I’d rather try to help myself then burden Mary and Ferlen. I think I can technically conclude I have some form of depression- whether it’s the usual mental illness or simply prenatal depression, I can’t be sure. Some of the feelings were present before the pregnancy, but they have sharpened since. Unfortunately, the most important part of addressing the problem is some form of talk therapy- journal entries will have to suffice as a substitute. I refuse to be a burden and cause unnecessary worry.

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