Not Unless You REALLY Want To Know Me Right Now

Here we go again. I have a new psychiatrist now. Not by choice. My insurance ran out and to see Dr. Hudepohl at the hospital is almost $200 a visit and I’ve been going once a month. Fortunately, Rhode Island has some pretty amazing health resources available. I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist at the Butler Residents Clinic and due to my uninsured status, it is free. Without it I would be going without therapy and without medication and I think we all know how that would turn out. I’ve only had a few visits and I haven’t made up my mind about it, but it’s different than the visits I’m used to. She doesn’t necessarily agree with a diagnosis of bipolar II but also said she wouldn’t rule it out. It’s possible it’s because the medication actually has the manic depression under control, but I still don’t feel right. It sucks because you feel on the up-and-up, start to feel more like yourself again, and then next thing you know you live in your pajamas again and are completely useless again. She thinks there’s definitely depression in some form at work, but she thinks I don’t need as much psychiatry and medication as much as I need regular therapy for anger issues. When she first told me that I thought that was so stupid and there was no way she was right. I monitored my moods and behaviors after she told me and I realized she MIGHT be right. I had told her that I’d been having issues with impulse control.

I’m not even sure how long ago I started writing this post. I’m guessing about a month. I stopped because writing about this is so emotionally exhausting for me. I think I’m struggling more and more. I don’t feel like a worthy human, a worthy mother, wife, I feel unworthy of trying to bear God’s name. I don’t want to get out of bed (but I do) but find myself not wanting to go home if I’m out by myself. Not to go anywhere. But to just be on my own. I’ve often thought of driving down to the ocean and listening, partially because the ocean holds so much peace and partially because I’m curious to see how long it would be before my husband called to see where I was. I feel like I don’t even know how to be human anymore. I’m constantly overwhelmed inside my mind and I’m often confused and scared. I feel like the alien bug from Men in Black that takes over Vince D’Onofrio’s body and keeps asking the wife for sugar water. A fake person in a human skin trying my best to pass as functional. I often want to cry, but I can’t anymore. I haven’t in months and even when I want to, I try to but it won’t come out. It’s like when you have a sneeze and you have that stupid look on your face until the feeling either goes away or you actually get it out. I haven’t been able to get it out. It’s hurting my marriage. It’s hurting my relationship with God. I haven’t been able to pray properly. I try and my mind goes elsewhere and my heart doesn’t know what it needs.  I haven’t been able to think straight. I’ve had headaches for three days straight, I haven’t been to work on time probably since I went back to work. I’m continually waiting for a reprimand from my boss and preemptively trying to come up with a way to explain that I really am trying but I guess I can try harder? Maybe that one time when I tried to get there early because I knew we were going to be super busy. I didn’t manage early but I did manage on time that day. I can’t stop spending money that we don’t have. On nothing in particular either. DVDs. Lots of DVDs. Clothes for babygirl, though to be fair she didn’t really have warm enough clothes in her size. Small furniture purchases. Lots of miscellaneous stuff from Amazon. I just want to be okay again.

Long Story. Part 4.

Mom life is hard. I told you about my treatment in Part 3, but I didn’t walk out magically cured. I’ve heard people say that once you get through the first few months, it’s a cakewalk. Yeah. Not to be a downer, but that’s not the case for me and probably many other women out there. I still have days where I feel like a horrible mom. I lost my milk supply before she was 5 months old so she’s been on formula since then, I always forget her sun hat, I feel like I don’t read to her enough, am I feeding her the right foods, I play on my phone too much near her, I didn’t know I was supposed to introduce her to sippy cups months ago. I had one day where Fb was playing on the floor in her room and I was laying on her carpet crying. The things going through my head as rivers flowed out my eyes: I hate being a mom. I am doing everything wrong. What have I done? I wish we didn’t have her. I love her so much but I ruined my life by having a kid. I’m not good enough to be a mom. I’m not mom material. This was all a mistake.
Now please don’t judge me. Yes, these are terrible things I was thinking at the time. To be fair though, I struggle more with mental illness now than at any previous point in my life. These thoughts are not a reflection of my rational self. They did go away quickly, though I do still very much struggle with the responsibilities of motherhood. Not to mention that it was before we had found the right mediciation balance for me. Even now that my medication is the closest to right as it’s been in a long time, I. Still. Struggle. Some weekends I just want to sleep in. Hubby is the greatest because he gets up with her almost every morning between 5 and 7. I have to get up for work around 7 anyway but he takes 95% of early mornings with her. I’m pretty lucky. Sometimes, though, I just want to eat my food without sharing bites. Sometimes I want to just go to Target by myself. Sometimes I wish it would be okay to leave her sleeping in the car so I can run a literal 2 minute errand. (Which obviously I won’t do, but yanking my sleeping baby out of the car so I can grab the photos I had printed when all the other errands are done is such a drag.)
I don’t even think I’ve mentioned that Fb is a really, REALLY good baby. She has a lovely disposition, is almost always a smiley little buddy. She started sleeping through the night around 5 months. Occasionally she regresses a little but it’s typically short lived and very easy to get her back down. She’s never been fussy. To all moms out there with colicky, cranky babies: I salute you and admire every minute you manage to keep yourself together. I can’t imagine what it would have been like going through all of my drama if she had been hard to deal with. You are heroes.
I think I’m finally getting it though. I’m getting better at timing errands with feedings, diaper changes, and naps. I actually go on errands! I put clothes on, brush my teeth, get the baby ready, and voluntarily leave my house!
It is still the hardest thing I have ever done. I know moms say that all the time, but it’s something you will not understand until you do it. With PPD/PPA/PP OCD, the first.... 8 months(?) were unbearable. I had to shut down so I wouldn’t cry all the time. You have to do so many things you don’t want to do and can’t do things you really want to. Bedtime is 7 and staying out later makes for an overtired nightmare baby. You have to read the same animal book over and over and over, despite the fact that she closes it, yanks it out of your hands, throws it, and then hands it back to you to start again.
A lot of parents say, “It’s hard but it’s so rewarding!” My husband even said it the other day. Personally, I’m still waiting for the rewarding stage. I know it will come, because I do feel the shift in my own outlook on parenting, but I’m not totally there yet. I would like to think that’s okay, because I do love her and I do take care of her and try to make her happy. It’s also okay to love your baby the most when they’re sleeping. I love her the most when she’s laughing her head off. It’s infectious and you can’t help but laugh back. Her nose wrinkles and all three and a half of her teeth show and her eyes scrunch up. It makes my inner cup of happiness overflow. My second favorite time with her is nap time.
The hardest part of being a parent is living with your heart outside of your chest. When she stays with Grammy and Grampy overnight I can’t help but miss her even if I’m having fun playing a drinking game at a party. I can’t help worrying about her every time I leave her with a babysitter so I can go to work. I love getting pictures of her while she’s playing with the babysitter. Usually I can last until 11:30 before I ask how the day is going. It’s hard to feel the guilt of also being relieved that I’m  away from her for a few hours. It’s so contradictory, but it’s the truth, and I know I’m not the only one. But as long as you love your baby, do your absolute best to do the things you don’t want to, and take care of yourself so that you can adequately take care of someone else, it’s okay. It’s so hard, but as a mom or dad, you’re doing great.

Not everything works for everyone.

Seriously, I should make that my tag line. I feel like it's something people forget too often and try to push what they think on other people too forcefully. Even if they mean well, it's rude and annoying. Voice your opinion if it's appropriate, then shut your face until further information is solicited. Can you tell I'm not exactly a people-person? I do have a little pal that makes it somewhat easier to deal with other humans. 

His name is Zoloft! Yaaay!

Now, as far as I can tell I've been dealing with anxiety since I was very young (my earliest anxiety-related memories start when I was five-ish,) and began displaying signs of depression shortly after entering high school. I had my first panic attack at 15 while I was at work and my mom took my to the emergency room. I've had a prescription for Atavan since then to take as needed. I'm currently 26, and have been taking Zoloft for 9 months. 

Why am I telling you this? Goodness gracious, don't feel sorry for me or act like I'm undergoing this massive personal battle that I'm fighting bravely. To me, it's just my life. Everyone has their trials and this is mine, and it's currently under control. But I like to talk about it for the awareness factor. 

It's going to be 2016 in a hot minute and mental illness still holds such a huge stigma. Somehow, many people still see taking antidepressants as relying on a crutch or somehow think it makes them "not themselves." I felt that way for a long time. But would you hear a diabetic talking about their insulin and think they were just being a baby? To me a diabetic taking insulin, or (insert whatever ailment and treatment you desire here) is just common sense. People with depression and anxiety most often have some type of chemical imbalance going on inside their brains and they need a little help to fix it. 

Zoloft has literally changed my life. My husband always says, "It's like you fight getting glasses when your vision is going, but when you let go and finally go and get a pair, you can't believe you waited so long to see so clearly." It's very much the same for me. Every day was a struggle to function. That mountain of dishes in the sink was enough to reduce me to tears on a regular basis. These days I feel new. I feel capable and functional. My dishes are always done. No mountain in the sink, no tears. My laundry is always done! I never need "a day" to do laundry, because it's always just one load. One here, one there. Sometimes it all sits on my floor of my bedroom for two weeks but that's because I'm still a little lazy and at least it's clean! 

I still get off days. We all do. Where the familiar "why bother getting out of bed" feeling creeps back and threatens to derail me for the day. But it's easier to power through, knowing it won't last forever. 

It was a project though. Like I said, not everything works for everyone and I know because it took some experimenting to find what worked for me. I started at the prompting of my husband, whom I had to convince to try to live better through chemistry several months prior. Jon used Celexa (citalopram) and it was a perfect fit. When I tried the lowest dose of the same drug, it sent me to a weird, dark place where I could listen to the two halves of my brain argue the pros and cons of doing some terrible thing like driving off of a bridge. Fortunately I came through that part unscathed. After a particularly difficult night and some poor choices I called my doctor to see if I needed to wean off of it or if I could just stop. Fortunately I managed to stay safe during that process and once I was clear of its effects, we tried again. Several members of my family have used Zoloft at some point or another and evidently, because our genetic and chemical makeup is similar it was more likely to work for me as it did for them. 

The first two months were okay. I felt slightly better, but not new. I spoke to my doctor again and he suggested that we go up a dose and see how that went. That was 6 months ago, and I finally feel human. Most days at least. 

The keys are 1) you need to be ready to make a change. If you aren't ready, then nothing will help. 2) Trust the people that are around you and that care about you. If your own spouse (who is normally very gentle with their words) says you're insufferable, it's possible that you're not holding up as well as you think. 3) Trust yourself. If you have doubts that it's working, refer to key number two, and ask yourself if you feel like anything has changed, like your ability to handle stress or your tolerance for annoying people. 

Remember: not everything works for everyone, but something out there will work for you. In the meantime, keep your head up and talk about me when you go to your next therapy session. ;)

National hotline for prevention of suicide: 1-800-273-TALK