I really feel like it's hard to people to talk about debilitating depression, or even seek help. Even now I wonder if anyone cares what I'm going through, aside from close family, or if telling my small story will help anyone. On the off chance that it helps someone, and on the serious note that I need to vent without judgement or feeling weird.
I'm a control freak. Not crazy control everything, but crazy when it comes to my mind and body. Aside from being a Mormon, I would probably never drink due to lack of control it creates. I'm aware of anything amiss in my mind and my body. Which is why a month early I tried to convince a doctor that I was in labor. I remember feeling like I wanted to punch Travis in the face, which to me was crazy. I just knew something was wrong and I panicked. Apparently, that's normal. I got a long lecture from the doctor as I sobbed that I needed to not waste everyone's time simply because pregnancy was hard. He made me feel so small, and yet I needed to hear it. I knew something wasn't right, but I was right enough to know I wasn't crazy enough to be strapped to a bed in the loony bin till my due date. I also refused to be that woman who decided to terminate her third trimester baby in boulder because of pregnancy depression. May that woman feel the full weight of her decision one day, and her guilt rest as heavily on the husband and psychiatrist that also felt that was a good decision. I won't link to an article about her, because it's sad and disgusting at the same time. The story is relevant because it's a medically proven disorder in women when they want to hurt their unborn child. I don't know why on earth anyone would ever think that was okay. I knew that hurting my baby would be a bad thing, but I wasn't there yet. The thought of cutting her out of me and taking her to the hospital (cuz I'm such a loving mother if I cut my baby out [LoCo]) had crossed my mind, so I went to my doctor.
I was given 25mg of sertraline, aka Zoloft. The initial side effects were annoying; insomnia and nausea if I remember correctly. It's been heaven sent, truly. It helped me be calm, it stopped my panic attacks that on one occasion almost stressed me into premature labor, mostly just bad cramps. I also think it helped quell the new mom crazy I might have been. I felt in control, and relaxed.
Until a few months ago. It started with dreams of...well I don't want to get weird so let's just say adulterous dreams. They weren't unappealing dreams, but I woke in a panic that my inner thoughts would stoop so low or even think about such things. They got worse, and I started crying over silly matters. I started telling Travis he wasn't fulfilling my needs, and he needed to focus on me more. ME, me, me. I started to wonder if maybe he wasn't who I was meant to be with. Just thoughts that I tried not to entertain, but they were there. I found myself crying to Travis that I really did love him begging him not to leave me, which confused the heck out of the husband who thought I was fine five minutes ago. I just couldn't shut my mind down. I couldn't control what I was thinking. It felt like when someone says don't think of elephant, and it's all you can think of. My blessing in disguise came when my prescription lapsed and the pharmacy and doctor's office played the putz game of slowly ordering me a refill. I had a panic attack during the four days it took them to figure it out. I called to let them know I needed it now, which they hopped to after hearing of the panic attacks.
However, I didn't realize until a few days later when I forgot to take my medicine that...my thoughts were mine. My dreams were gone. I was able to focus on what I wanted to without a rush of thoughts I didn't want any part of. It was awesome! I also didn't have trouble sleeping the days I forgot to take it. It was then I decided I might need to stop taking it. So far I'm down to half a dose every other day...ish. I went two days and threw a temper tantrum over not having a certain dress clean for church. I even stomped my foot and began to cry. Luckily, my logical side kicked in and said KNOCK IT OFF! Sadly I'm experiencing withdrawal symptoms, so I could use some prayers.
The whole point, it's okay to not be okay. I recommend knowing yourself well enough to know when things aren't right. Prayer is a great help. Sure a prayer hasn't cured a headache without tylenol or ibuprofen, but hey it helps. Prayer helps me to know that I'm not crazy, nor should be ashamed at my imperfections. Prayer has helped me realize my savior still loves me when I'm not perfect. Prayer reminds me that even if the hand isn't pulling me up or wiping away all my troubles, there is a hand to hold. And I want others to know you aren't ever alone, and even with a supportive family depression can be a struggle. But it's just chemicals in your brain and body not working right. It may feel like the end of the world, but it's literally an imbalance. Meds helped me, but they don't help everyone. And getting off of the meds isn't easy. I read facebook posts of a friend going off cymbalta. His life was heck for a while, but he did it! (to the best of my knowledge) But know you are not alone, and if no one else in this universe loves you I would like to offer that I feel Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me. For me that's proof enough. The same type of way I know that weaning off Zoloft is best for my body. I just know. Maybe my personal experiences will help you in some way.
"Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass; and small means in many instances doth confound the wise. And the Lord God doth work by means to bring about his great and eternal purposes; and by very small means the Lord doth confound the wise and bringeth about the salvation of many souls." Alma 37:6-7
-Heather
p.s. The storm story was meant to end with the dragon saving her from the prince, a fun writing idea I saw online. But I don't want to continue it. Not because of galaxy eyes that become the man cursed as a dragon or the implications of such a specific poetic reference (which was never intended, my apologies). I won't continue it because it's too good. Why fix what isn't broken? Or continue the story that is so good alone. Eh maybe one day when my brain doesn't feel like mush.
I'm glad you posted this. My mom has clinical depression. Before she was diagnosed, she would do all kinds of things that she knew weren't good or healthy (like getting really, really, really mad at us kids). She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she truly honestly couldn't control it. Once she went on medication, she felt like a normal person again. I'm pretty sure she's on a half a dose a day, too.
ReplyDeleteI've had several conversations with people who don't understand depression, and the best way I can think of to describe it is that it's exactly like diabetes. The only difference is that it's a chemical imbalance in your brain instead of your pancreas. <3