Now, don’t get me wrong. Postpartum depression is a very serious diagnosis, and in some cases, medication is the best course of treatment, hands down. I knew that. But I also knew physical activity could only help jump-start my recovery.
I hadn’t yet been given medical approval to resume exercise, and as a Pilates instructor, dancer, and outdoor adventurer, movement had always been my preferred form of stress relief. Getting cleared to exercise was key to my mental health. For the first time, I realized it wasn’t just my body that was craving movement; it was my brain, too.
I answered her, “What about exercise? Can I move yet? Can I hike, run, anything?”
My doctor took out her prescription pad and started writing. “Exercise, 30 minutes every day,” she wrote. She ripped the script off the pad and handed it to me.
“Let’s try it,” she said. “But I’m going to call you to check in. If it’s not enough, we’ll try the medication.”
The next day, I laced up my hiking boots, put the dog on a leash, strapped my baby into a carrier, and headed out into the freshly fallen snow for a hike. Every step felt therapeutic. Finally, I was moving my body again, breathing fresh air. The rogue thoughts that rattled in my brain started falling in line with the rhythm of my steps.
With each and every step, my mind quieted, focusing more on the way my body felt in that present moment than on the fear that kept me awake at night. My body was still healing, and I moved slowly, intentionally. I felt my muscles wake up. I wasn’t anywhere near my peak physical condition, but it didn’t matter.
I was moving, and that was enough.
I wasn’t thinking about “losing baby weight” or pushing myself to achieve. I was only thinking about clearing my head, one step at a time.
Slowly, steadily I walked up that hill, and I knew it was the beginning of my recovery.
This content was originally published here.