In August 2018, on Pippa’s first day of kindergarten, I had the sudden and deep realization that I needed to take a break from my work as a maternal mental health advocate.

At the time, I was doing a lot. I had a podcast called Adventures with Postpartum Depression for which I interviewed moms who wanted to share their stories. I also ran a weekly peer-to-peer support group for moms suffering from a maternal mood disorder. I had published my memoir and was trying to spread the word about my book on social media. I had organized Team L.A.’s participation in the annual Climb Out of the Darkness event.

And then after investing so much of my time in my role of “maternal mental health advocate,” my intuition told me it was time to stop.

My mind threw a hissy fit. What? How? Seriously how? What the fuck? How can I walk away from a support group, podcast, and the promotion of my memoir?

My intuition said, You just have to do it.

I spent several weeks contemplating this decision. And by “contemplating,” I mean “trying to come up with some valid reasons to ignore my intuition and keep my life exactly as it had been for the past two years.” Many journal entries were written! But after a few weeks of resistance, I accepted that my intuition was right. I surrendered to what I already knew. It was time to enter a new phase of my life, and that meant withdrawing from the maternal mental health community.

It was the right decision. My advocacy activities had been done as a peer, but as far as postpartum depression was concerned, I was not a peer anymore. I was struggling to connect with the moms who attended the weekly support group. I was also struggling to create new content for my podcast. I wanted to tell people about the new things I was doing for my personal growth, but a podcast for postpartum depression did not feel like the right forum. I was like a snake ready to shed a skin that had grown too snug.

Walking away from all my work as a maternal mental advocate was scary. It was like losing an identity. And now, I am being beckoned back into the fold, and that is scary.

I recently read Tosha Silver’s book Change Me Prayers: The Hidden Power of Spiritual Surrender. Silver writes a lot about receiving sings from her higher power. Occasionally in the past, I felt like the Universe was sending me a sign, and as I read Change Me Prayers, I started hoping to receive more signs. So I prayed in my journal, Please, Divine Beloved, show me the next step I should take. That was about two months ago.

Over the next two months, this is what happened:

• A mom friend asked me to speak to her book club about my memoir.
• I felt inspired to create a new podcast episode for all the moms suffering from postpartum depression during the pandemic.
• Last week, another mom friend texted me, asking for any advice I had about postpartum depression.
• A few days ago, yet another friend tagged me on Instagram to take part in The Blue Dot Project’s 2020 Maternal Mental Health Week campaign.
• And then yesterday, while sitting down to write a blog post about mom guilt, I ended up writing a very raw post instead about the lingering shame I still feel over the intrusive thoughts I had about throwing Pippa.

Well shit. I asked for a sign. The Universe sent five.

So what do these signs mean? I am not entirely certain. Except as I finished writing that last sentence, my intuition said very clearly: Wade deeper.

Okay then.

I am not meant to restart the postpartum support group. I am no longer a peer and I do not feel called to be a therapist, so that is no longer my work. I believe the same hold trues for my podcast.

What I need to do is THIS. I need to explore my lingering tender spots from my adventures with postpartum depression. As I hash things out in my journal, I can write about it here. Just because I published a memoir does not mean my work is done.

It just might be time to look at things from a different angle and see what bubbles up from my intuition.