The Move happened, and as I feared, it was not good for me. I haven’t posted here in a while. In that time, I have been so, so depressed. Too depressed to write. Too depressed to eat consistently. I probably wouldn’t be eating at all if it weren’t for my husband, and for the fact that I don’t want to lose my breastmilk supply. I’m not enjoying my food. I’m not enjoying much of anything. I feel like I was finally starting to get better, and then came the move, and now I feel like I’ve lost every bit of progress I had made. I feel like by moving when I did, I’ve lost any chance of actually recovering from this. I feel like I’ve fallen down, and I don’t know if I can get back up.