It's A Beautiful Life

I have a beautiful life. There is no doubt about that. I have a husband, who is more loving, patient, and kind than I knew a man could be. My father was an angry, uninvolved, self-absorbed person, and he was a neglectful and verbally abusive husband to my mother. I knew there were dads unlike mine. But I didn't know there were dads as good as my husband is to my son. It breaks my heart when I see them together because it is so incredibly precious. I also have a beautiful home. One I always wanted. Don't get me wrong, it's no mansion. But it is a simple, contemporary, yet cozy home that my family and I are crazy about. I have two little dogs who love me unconditionally. They are also my babies. My 3 year-old baby boy is my sweet little angel. He is the apple of my eye. I always had a picture in my mind of what my son would look like, and who he would be, and it has came true. God gave me the little boy I always wanted. I earned a Master's degree and I worked as a therapist in a job I always wanted. I am finding my niche and becoming successful in my career, even though I am still fairly early in it. I am financially stable--something my parents never had. I am blessed with so many friends and acquaintences who are lovely. I am very close with my two brothers, and they love me unconditionally. There is nothing at all to complain about in my life. I am truly, unbelievably blessed. But I have depression. And it hurts so bad. It is an irrational depression that has nothing to do with my life or my situation. What frightens me most is that I don't think my life could get better, and yet I am depressed. I have no control. All the love in the world, all the money in the world, and all the accomplishments in the world cannot prevent or cure depession. It feels hopeless....as though nothing within my power can get rid of this depression. I have turned it over to God time and time again. And He always answers my prayers. I'm going to turn it over to Him once again. Dear God, please be with me. Please be with all of us moms out there living with postpartum depression and depression. Please give us strength to keep going, to keep fighting, and believing that we will get better through Your love and Your strength. Amen. God bless.

Twists and turns

I am still on this roller coaster of depression and anxiety, and it can be a terrifying ride sometimes. This is my second go-round, and even though I knew there would be ups and downs, the twists and turns are still catching me by surprise. Sometimes my symptoms return as scary thoughts, and they stick around for a few hours or a few days. Then, they are gone and I feel hope that I am finally getting well. Later, I find myself being hypersensitive and scared that I will lose my job, and never find one again. Other times, I become afraid that I will lose the people I love. And on days like today, I feel like there is no purpose in my life. Rationally, I know that is not true. But, that knowledge is still not enough for me to not feel like it is. With depression, the heart and the mind can become so disconnected. I can tell myself that I have a wonderful life--in fact, everything I've ever wanted--yet I my heart feels so heavy and so dark. It feels as if life may never have purpose or meaning again. During those times, reading stories and blogs about women who have survived postpartum depression and anxiety become my lifeline. I at least feel that I am not alone in this. And sometimes that's enough.

Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

A secret mommy-hood confession? Hmmm....where do I start? I know....my confession for this Saturday is that I often feel jealous, angry, and selfish. I envy moms who have babies--sometimes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and more babies--and do not experience postpartum depression or anxiety. I am so envious that they can enjoy and appreciate such a beautiful, miraculous experience without the dark hole that is depression and anxiety. Now, don't get me wrong...I know those moms go through tough times, too. I know that motherhood isn't always a cakewalk. But postpartum depression and anxiety is something that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. It is a pain so unimaginable, and so intense, that it can turn the most joyous life upside down.
My second confession is that, not only do I feel jealous about these moms, sometimes I feel angry, too. I feel like it's unfair. I feel mad that I am the one that has to go through this. I so badly just want to feel "normal", everyday stress. I want my biggest worries to, again, be about how clean my house is, if I can afford that new shirt, or if I am getting enough exercise. Sometimes I feel slighted by God that I have to experience this hell-on-earth that is postpartum depression, anxiety, and OCD.
Finally, my last confession for today is the selfishness I feel. Although there's plenty of selfishness contained in the writing above, that's not all... My selfishness can be strong at times. I find myself secretly hoping that one of my friends gets postpartum depression, so that I am not alone. So that I have someone to lean on who understands this experience. (God, please forgive me for this. I don't really mean it. Like I said earlier, I truly wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy). I have so many friends who have baby after baby, with seemingly no major stress. I want that so badly. I want to be that mom that pops kids out--one right after the next. I dreamed of having that big family, and I am so sad that will not be a reality for me and my husband.
In spite of all these negative thoughts I have, I know that they are just that--thoughts. They are not reality. They do not reflect my heart or my personality or my intentions. These are the thoughts of a mom who is in the throes of depression, and who is being so brutally honest in the hope of healing.

Before and After

Before postpartum depression, I believed:
That my husband loved me unconditionally, and that we would be married forever.
That if my husband ever did decide to leave me, that I would be okay on my own.
I believed that I was an asset to my employer, and that they were fortunate to have me.
I believed that I was born to be a mother.
Before postpartum depression and anxiety I never doubted my sanity.
I never worried about being psychiatrically hospitalized.
I never worried about "going crazy".
I believed that having a big family, and caring for them, was my calling in life.
I dreamed of being a foster parent.
I dreamed of rescuing dozens of dogs from shelters and having a home in the country.
I dreamed of being a stay-at-home mom, or owning my own business and working part-time.
I dreamed that I would give my child all of the things that I longed for in my childhood.
Then postpartum depression and anxiety hit. Hard.
And I became terrified that...
I was losing my mind.
I would never be myself again.
I would always feel depressed and anxious.
I would have to be psychiatrically hospitalized.
And that would be the end of my career. And my sanity.
I believed that I would probably become debilitated by depression and anxiety.
And that I would lose my job.
And never again be hired.
Or if I was hired, that I would soon lose that job too.
I became terrified that I would never sleep again.
That I would never find meaning in my life again.
That I would never be happy.
Or fulfilled.
I doubted that I would be able to give my son a stable or happy home.
I thought my son would be better off without me.
I became terrified that I would lose my mind and hurt my son.
I became terrified that I would lose my mind and hurt myself.
I gave up on my dream of being a foster parent. After all, I didn't believe I was capable of caring for my son, let alone anyone else's children.
I gave up on my dream of having a big family.
I became convinced that my husband would eventually realize he was better off without me.
And that I could not survive without him.
Right now, I am confused. I am not sure what to believe anymore. Actually, I think I am still in a state of disbelief. Disbelief that this has all happened to me. And I am grieving. Grieving for the confident and joyful beliefs I once held. Before postpartum depression, that is.

My Safe Place

Growing up, home wasn't always a safe and comfortable place. When I became an adult and moved out on my own, I yearned to make my dorm room, college home, and grad school apartment my sanctuaries. I tried....but I was not successful. Sure, those places were sufficient, and they were mine. But, they never really felt like home. Then, the stars aligned and I finally finished school and got a decent paying job. I married my husband, and he had a solid income. And we were able to purchase a charming, but modest home. I spent hours visualizing, planning, decorating, and rearranging my home until I felt it was just right. My home did become my sanctuary. I remember times I would be at a meeting or a class and feel nervous. I would think back to my "safe place" and imagine myself at home, cuddled up on the couch with my hubby, feeling perfectly blessed and content with life. Then, postpartum depression hit me like a ton of bricks....while I was in the kitchen making lunch for my sweet little boy and my husband. Scary thoughts that were unwanted and horrifyingly frightening entered my mind. I became a ball of shame, depession, and anxiety. I was paralyzed by my fear. And my home became the place where it all occurred. My home was no longer my safe place. It now became the place where, to me, the worst imaginable pain I could have ever imagined, overtook me. As devastated as I was to have lost that safe feeling at home....I learned that feeling safe with your mind was even more important. During the worst moments of postpartum depression, I could not trust my mind or my thoughts. I felt like I was losing my self, and my sanity. Today, my home is becoming my sanctuary again. It does not feel as comforting as it once was, though. Being home for long periods of time by myself or even with my family, can still bring twinges of anxiousness. But they are now small, only remnants of what once existed. The associations are fading over time. My mind and my thoughts are safer, too. Those memories and those fears have faded. Now I am putting my energy in my faith in God, and relying on Him through the good and the bad. When I am feeling frightened or worried, and long for that sense of complete safety I once felt, I think of God, and I think of Pslam 34:19--Many are the afflications of the righteous, but the Lord deliverth him from all of them. And I feel like I have once again found my safe place.

Drinking & Depression Don't Mix

Drinking alcohol while you're on anti-depressants is not a good idea. Let me say this again, drinking alcohol when you're on anti-depressants is not a good idea. I know this. Everybody does, right? But I have made the regrettable decision to drink heavily on two recent occasions, and both times I have majorly regretted it. Now, I didn't drink to vomitting or to the point of making a fool of myself. But I did drink enough that I had a depression hangover the next day, both times. Depression is bad enough without throwing alcohol in the mix. What was I thinking? Well, I know what I was thinking....I'm better now.....I can go out and have a good time again....Nothing's wrong with me....I am just like everyone else...Life is fun again... Drinking for me equals depression denial. And when the denial wears off, the sadness sets in. And I wonder, will I ever not have to deal with this depression? Will it always be there, lurking behind the corner, waiting to make a dramatic appearance? It seems like a cruel trick that just when I start to feel better and think I have this thing beat, that I have another rough moment or hour or day, and it feels like I am back at square one. Lesson learned. Again.

The Illness Lottery

In the illness lottery, depression is not always the best one to get. It is not as catchy or as popular as some other illnesses. They don't have many bracelets, walks, or fundraisers for depression, like they do other illness. People don't wear depression survivor pins. Depression is still--for the most part--a hidden disease. I am as guilty as the next on that. But, what we do have for depression strugglers, is a vast array of medications, therapies, and other remedies. We have, what.....hundreds....of antidepressants, anti-anxiety medications, mood stabilizers, and anti-psychotic medications. We have choices and options. And we have a lot of control over our illness that other strugglers with other illnesses do not. My mother had cancer. And she died of it. It has been the pain of my life. I am guessing my mother, and most other cancer strugglers, would gladly choose depression over cancer. At least there is an element of control, treatments with minor side-effects, and a much lower mortality rate. For many reasons, I am blessed that, for all of the illnesses and problems in the world, that I have this one.

Thanks for Drugs

I am noticing some trends in my writing. One of the trends is that I thank God and express gratitude. Right now is another one of those times. I am so incredibly grateful to pharmaceutical companies. Yes, those big, bad pharmaceutical companies that a lot of us vilianize at times. They are not perfect, of course. They spend lavish amounts of money on food and drinks, getaways for their staff or for physicians. And these are among other faults. But what profession or what group of people doesn't have faults? As long as I could reap the benefits--as I and most of the rest of society does now-- I would take all of their faults in a heartbeat. The Seroquel and the Lexapro and the Xanax that I have used through out the course of my depression in these past few years have been Godsends. They have given me hope and life and peace. Not total, but enough that I have my life back. And for that I will be forever grateful. Thank you to physicians, nurses, researchers, CEOs, pharmaceutical sales managers, and all of the persons who work for and with the pharaceutical companies to provide life-saving medications. I owe so much of my life to you. So many of us do. So, thank you.

Hurting and Hoping

Sometimes the pain from depression is just so strong. Right now is one of those times for me. The day was wonderful, actually. I have nothing to complain about right now. God is so good to me. He has blessed me with a sweet and caring husband, an angelic child, loyal friends and family, a professional and rewarding job, and a comfortable way of life. There is nothing I need that I don't have. And yet, this depression is lurking. I am going to therapy, taking vitamins, going to church, praying, going to a spirituality class, staying busy at work, spending time with friends, and eating better and exercising more. Not enough, but more! But these tough minutes or hours--in the terriyfing times it was days--still come and still hurt so much. It is difficult to describe how real and how strong they are for those who have not experienced depression. At least, as much as I tried to empathize with people with depression before, I could never grasp how strong and irrational the thoughts and feelings can be until I experienced it myself. My heart goes out to all of us strugglers, or in a more positive frame of mind, us survivors of depression. We deserve kindness and compassion. We deserve more research into depression. We deserve destigmatization and normalization. At least that is what "I" am hoping and praying for right now.

Coping Skills vs. Medications

Right now I am in one of those moments when I am feeling sad, scared, slightly panicky, overwhelmed, and doubtful. I am debating whether I should turn to a medication--that is prescribed p.r.n.--or if I should work even harder than I am right now to feel better through coping skills. I know it seems like a simple answer--just use coping skills as much as possible--but sometimes when coping skills don't reduce the symptoms, the symptoms snowball in severity, and you feel like you are starting from square one again. When taking medication, especially if it's two or three, or even more medications, it's so difficult to separate which medication is helping you, which coping skill, etc. Having a trusted physician, or psychiatrist, or therapist or someone who is a professional and can be objective, is crucial in this process. We are so subjective about ourselves, of course, that we can sometimes be a hindrance to recovery. We want to be our own doctors and therapists, because if we ask for help we have to admit there's a problem that we cannot totally manage on our own, and we overwhelm ourselves even more. So, my plan for right now, is to take the medication as prescribed and use my coping skills.

Peaks and Valleys

And, that, folks, is how recovery from depression works. You feel good for one hour or one day or one week, and you think, "It's finally over". I am finally done with this depression thing. You even start to think, "Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought it was". You start to think about the future, and how great it will be. Things that seemed scary before--like having another child--would be no problem anymore. And then it comes back. And sometimes it comes back hard.
The 11th was a wonderful day. I was me again. Now, here we are just a few days later, and I am struggling again. The scary thoughts, the shakey-panicky feeling, the deep sense of sadness.....they all strike again. But this time, I have tools. I have even more tools than I had when I went through postpartum depression, and I have more tools than I had even the last time I was in this valley. So, I pray, and I go to church. I take a medication. I correct my negative thinking. When I find myself worrying, I direct my worries to God in the form of prayers. I write on my blog. I visit a friend, and spend time with family. And it gets better, as it always does. Then the moment passes, and I get glimpses of what it's like to be me again. And I have hope.

I'm Back!

Today was wonderful. Not because anything special or extraordinary happened, but because, for the first time in a month, I felt like myself again for the entire day! There is a misunderstanding out there that taking anti-depressants makes you feel high or buzzed or happy all the time, as though they are a magic happy pill. That is not the case. At least not for me, nor for the hundreds of other people I have worked with over the years that have taken anti-depressants. I just feel like myself again. When an anti-depressant works for me, I just feel as though I did for the first 27 years of my life, and not how I did for the six-month period and one-month (and counting) period when I felt inexplicably depressed. I am so grateful to God to have had this day of feeling like myself again. I hope and pray that for each of you struggling with depression, you have one of those days soon.

Hopeless Moments in Recovery

Not so long ago, I thought I was over this. I thought depression was a thing of the past for me. I thought I had post-partum depression and anxiety, and that it was over, and would be a painful memory that would continue to fade with time. And you can probably guess how the story goes....I went off of my anti-depressants that I had been on for 1 1/2 years. It took about two months before the depression symptoms started coming back, and then about three months for them to be absolutely crippling. And now here I am, trying to recover. Let me correct myself--I am not trying to recover--I am recovering. For the past three or four days, I have been functioning at what I refer to as an 8 or a 9 out of 10. As far as how I feel, though, that's not always the case. There are moments during every day when I feel seriously hopeless. Those moments are powerful, and fortunately for me, they are brief. But they feel very real, and very frightening. In those moments, I feel as though the thoughts, "I will never get better. I will always have to deal with this. It will never go away" are absolute facts. Now, I have learned to tell myself that the depression is clouding my thinking for the moment, and that it will pass, like every other moment before it has. It's helping. But I still want them to go away. Forever. And never, ever return.

My First 'My Healing Blog'

 This is a blog about a mom healing from depression.  It is about a mom who loves her young son more than anything in the world; has a wonderful, supportive husband; a good career, and loving friends.  This blog is about me. 
Let me start by saying that I never thought I would be 'the type of person' who has depression.  I would have never said that out loud.  I would have never even thought that I would believe that type of statement.  But, not until I had depression, did I realize that I believed this myth.  Sure, I had a strong family history of depression.  And, I would have told others that depression or mental illness can happen to anyone.  After all, I worked as a counselor and helped people cope with this type of thing.  But I, never in a million years, thought that it would happen to me.  Nor did I ever believe that depression could be this bad.  This powerful,....this debilitating, .....this......well......depressing.
And here I am, trying just one more thing to help get through this fog of depression.  I have tried medications, therapy, more therapy, supplements, exercise, healthy eating, drinking water, more medications, prayer and spiritual healing, massage, distraction, church, yoga, talking to friends, a psychiatrist.  I have tried so much, and so much has actually helped me.  But, I am still not quite myself yet, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I have been secretly thinking that blogging is the answer. 
The last thing I want is for this to be another page on the Internet that tells all about the horrors of depression that convinces people they will never get better.  I don't believe that.  I have gotten better, and I believe you can too.  I want this blog to be real enough to capture the devastation of depression.  But, I also want anyone and everyone who reads this to understand that there are always more treatment options or coping options out there.  With enough patience, determination, and hard work, every single person with depression can and will get better and become whole again.  And maybe even more whole than ever before.
My wholeness has came from God.  It sounds cheesy, I know.  Another thing I never thought is that I would be 'the type of person' who put God first, a WWJD bracelet-wearing person, or someone who tries to convince others to follow God.  But I find myself loving and knowing God more and more every day, and thanking Him for the many miracles I have experienced in my life. 
I am getting there.  I am so close to healing.  It's coming....I know.  Please pray for me, and let me know if I can pray for you too.
Thank you for reading My Healing Blog.  Here's to hoping it accomplishes it's goal!