When depression hits you, it can be like a tidal wave. But like any tidal wave, the wall of water will tumble, the flood water will recede and, eventually, new buds of life grow.

When I woke on one Friday morning, last year, I knew something was wrong. Like most people, I am not a natural morning person; I have never leapt out of bed filled full of the vigour of life. But, on that morning, I felt a numbness, an anxiety I had never felt before. It was more than the usual morning slog to get up and go. I remember dressing my 16-month-old son for nursery and feeling tears wet my cheeks as I silently wept at the thought of getting dressed and facing the world. I knew something was wrong. This was my tidal wave.

In order to heal I needed to check out of life for a while – by that, I mean literally take time away from one aspect of my life: work. Being a teacher for nine years, with relatively little time off, I found this extremely difficult.

I had returned to work after a year off for maternity and I remember looking around on that first week back and feeling inadequate. Things had changed. New systems were in place. The department had made amazing strides in becoming one of the most successful in the school. They set a new pace and I simply could not keep up.

Nevertheless, I got up, dressed up and put on my best impression of a swan (elegant on top and kicking like mad and most ungracefully beneath the surface).  Colleagues were pleased to see me back and complimented me on my post-baby body (an issue for another blog) and they marvelled at how much I was able to accomplish with a one-year-old at home. What they didn’t know was that beneath the swan exterior, I felt I was an ugly duckling inside. I was organising, planning and marking all day Sunday and was staying up late after my son went to bed tweaking every lesson and generally stressing about every aspect of my job.

General thoughts consisted of:

• What if I am doing this all wrong?
• What if the students think I am useless at this now?
• What if I can’t fit all this marking in?
• What if I get caught out as a fraud?
• What if I miss out on time with my son?

You get the picture. It was a neverending circle of desire to do well and fear of failure.

It’s a catch 22. I work in an amazing school with some fantastic, passionate teachers whom I admire and aspire to be like. I am also sharply ambitious – always have been from my NQT year; seeking out promotions and ways to challenge myself to be the best version of a teacher I could be. So, once I was pregnant and had my son, I was keen (naively so) to avoid the ‘mummy’ label when I went back to work and this made me drive harder and faster than ever before. But it broke me.

A few months later, I was sitting in the drab and dreary GP office listening to his words and nodding – thinking yes – I can fix this and be better. He will give me some antidepressants and I will be able to go back to work and ‘be normal’. No one would even need to know. Nope! He yanked the rug right from under me when he told me that I needed to take two months away from work at the very least. It devastated me. I didn’t want to look like a teacher who couldn’t cope just because she had a baby. I wasn’t that person. I didn’t want to be laughed at by my colleagues or, worse still, to be that teacher who let all my students down by not being there.

I cried – and I mean ugly tears; the ones that are accompanied by snots, sniffs and blotchy red eyes. I could not detach myself from work – I could not fail. My first stop after the GP’s office was work…don’t ask me why. 

And now?

Well, now I am getting ready to go back to work on a phased return. Now I realise the GP was right. Antidepressants aren’t the miracle pill – they don’t fix you like a quick wave of a wand and a chant of “oculus reparo.” If only it was that easy. I needed to be away from work – I needed to check out from that aspect of my life in order to build a much sturdier foundation for handling the pressures of teaching and now I think I have done that or at least, am in the process of it.

I know I am not a failure. I know my colleagues support me. I know my students are okay without me because hey – I am not the only English teacher in the world. Depression hasn’t smothered my love or passion for the job, nor has it stunted my ambitions – I just know that when I do return to work in a few weeks’ time, I will look after me first and foremost, then my family, then my job.

And how does motherhood fit into all of this? Well, becoming a mum wasn’t the cause of my depression – nor was teaching for that matter. I am a firm believer that while external factors can impact our lives, it’s what’s within us – our minds and our souls – that dictate what life we ultimately lead. I had to change my mindset. I had to change my emotional wellbeing when I became a mummy. My son is the biggest part of my life now, and he is by far my biggest healer.

Today was a prime example of my son’s role in my life. Today my tidal wave resurfaced and I wanted to stay in bed and block out the world but I had to take care of my son, so I got up. We shared breakfast together and we giggled. We danced to silly songs in the kitchen and then we back to bed and played for ages; just us two. This wasn’t anything special – this would be my norm on my days off with him but he lifted my mood instantly. I felt like a proper mummy (something I haven’t felt relaxed about in weeks). He makes it easy, of course, being so cheeky and loveable. I have learned through mindfulness that in order to appreciate my life, I need to be present in it. Today, I was present and it lifted my anxiety about what tomorrow would bring. It helped to combat ruminations about yesterday.

Now, I know I will be returning back to work soon and not every day will be like this. But I am learning how to balance these three elements of my life: depression, motherhood and teaching. I am putting coping mechanisms in place to guard myself from being sucked back into the tsunami of marking, planning, stressing, and negativity. I know now that I will always carve out time for my family and be wholly present in that time. Because, let’s face it: who wouldn’t want to laugh, be silly and just be, even if it’s once every day. 

I am excited to get back into that classroom a stronger and healthier version of me, one day at a time. I will let you know how it goes.

The writer is an English teacher in the North of England