The past couple of weeks I've been on a sort of mental health break. It was totally self-imposed; I realized that I needed time to study for the GRE, which I just took this past Saturday, but there was something else too. I have a blog, Depressions and Confessions, which I typically posted at four or five times a week. I initially started the blog to speak out about my experience with postpartum depression, and eventually it evolved into a place where I could talk about anything. But the original intent of the blog was always there, and my readers helped me through a very difficult relapse only a short while ago.

For me, blogging contributed a great deal to my recovery process. I found an amazing group of women (and a few men) who understood what I was going through, sympathized with me, and offered me unquestioning love and support when I needed it most. On the day I had a near-breakdown a few moths ago, I quickly pounded out a post about what I was going through. Looking back on it now, I can't believe I blogged in such a fragile and vulnerable state, and when I read the post I cry at the memory of how lost I felt. But with minutes of publishing the post, I began to get comments, emails, tweets and even texts encouraging me, letting me know that I wasn't alone and that people were thinking about me. Just knowing that virtual strangers were going about their days carrying a thought of me in their hearts gave me strength.

As I've been making my way to mental health, though, my life has changed a lot. My priorities have altered from "just making it out of bed" to "getting out of the house every day," and I know those priorities will continue to shift as I get closer to a full recovery. Although I'm not completely out of the PPD woods, I can feel my old self returning, and as this transformation happens, I've been forced to consider my life and make necessary changes. My blog, Depressions and Confessions, came under fire for me in the past few weeks.

When I first started blogging, it was one of the best parts of my days. I was in a constant fog of misery and self-pity, but reading other people's blogs and writing about my own troubles seemed to lift the mist and let me see my life more clearly. In particular, reading comments on my posts gave me so much satisfaction. It may seem shallow and needy to people who've never experienced something like this, but I thrived on the external validation. I didn't have anything inside of me telling me my life was worth living, so hearing from others that I was something — when I felt like a nothing — guided me along as I stumbled through the shadows cast by depression.

In recent weeks, though, blogging had become a chore. I no longer wrote because I really, really couldn't wait to share something with my friends; I blogged because I felt obligated. I felt so much pressure to be funny, or provocative or insightful. Even though the pressure was all coming from myself, it really got to me. I wasn't enjoying what I was doing anymore and it was making me unhappy.

I realized that I didn't need my blog anymore — I wasn't clinging desperately to the rush I got when I saw that I had 50 comments on a post, or that another blogger I admired had tweeted one of my posts. But after I took a break from blogging, from the internet actually, I could see that I still wanted my blog. I love writing, communicating with others through words. It's a part of me now, and I'm not willing to let it go.

In thought about it, and decided I wouldn't shut my blog down, but I'd change my own attitude towards it. Its function in my life has changed, so I just needed to take that into consideration and figure out a way to work it into my new life. I've decided to cut back on the frequency of my posts, and only write when I feel the need to do so. I don't care about the numbers or recognition anymore — I see now that most of the thrill I got from knowing people were reading came from a very intense lack of self-esteem. I'm not saying people blog because they have no self-esteem, I'm just saying that was my own experience.

As a result of the epiphany I had about my blog, I've decided to do a thorough evaluation of everything in my life. I'll take stock of where I stand right at this moment and figure out what I need to be happy and to make my family happy. I can't feel guilty about having to let some things go, or having to tell people that I can't be what I thought I was going to be. It's all right to take a different road than you thought you would, especially if that road is going to a place much better than you ever though you'd get to.