Road to Recovery

Well, I did it. I took the leap. I went to the doctor and got put on a very low dose anti-depressant. I honestly cannot wait to not feel like crazy lady anymore. I’m ready to have me back!

Justin is worried. He feels like me being on an anti-depressant means that he isn’t good enough. That is so far from the truth. How must I feel? I refuse to feel that way though. Yeah, this proves that I’m not good enough, not strong enough, not stable enough, not a whole lot of enoughs, but I’m not going to make my family suffer because I’m not enough. I’m going to do what it takes to do right by them.

It feels like a new day. Today, I’m going to stop beating myself up, and I’m going to get right!

Livejournal Again?

Something happened yesterday.

If you keep up on my blog at all, you know that I’m going through some postpartum depression. It really sucks for everyone. Yesterday was a bad day. I managed to get upset over and over again. While I was showering, Justin came and sat down in the bathroom to talk to me. I really let it all out. Well, a lot of it out. I talked to him about what I feel the causes are, some of what doesn’t help and about how selfish I feel. I talked about what I felt like he was saying to me and about how I can’t fix any of it though I can identify it.

He had gone from not wanting me to go on an anti-depressant to saying “do whatever you need to do to get better NOW.”

After we talked, nothing was better. He went to do what he wanted to do, while I struggled to get things done that I had planned to get done. Finally, I lost it! I threw diapers everywhere, then threw clean clothes everywhere. I was just tired of doing everything and no one caring. I sat down with Kara and watched TV and chose to do nothing else. He came in from outside and kind of asked how I was doing and I told him that I wasn’t doing anything anymore. I quit. I didn’t care what anyone did, ate, where they went, anything. I was done caring. I put Kara to sleep and went to bed myself. Those are 2 things I rarely ever do, watch TV and take a nap.

While I was stubbornly napping, I shut out the world and determined to let go of my give-a-crap…and God did a work in Justin.

One of the hardest things about all of this is that I do have legitimate complaints and issues that need to be addressed. However, because I’m a mess most of the time, they get lost in all of that. I come across as a nagging, crazy lady.

Justin was doing some things around the house (because I quit) and was praying about what he needed to do. He went to unload a box outside & came across some of my old journals. I had them in a box for storage. There were 3 of them. 1. A journal that Nosa gave me before we married. It was mostly full of pre-marriage stuff and gooing over Nosa. I remembered today at Nosa’s request, I pulled all of the negative entries out of it. 2. A journal I started when I was pregnant with Migc and was intended for a pregnancy journal & quickly morphed in Migc/Kristen then on to other days. 3. A journal titled New Beginnings which documents a lot of the transformation away from the bondage of that marriage. All 3 overlapped some and there would be many months go by before there would be another entry. When he told me what he’d come across, I got scared. I thought he might be upset that I still had some of this.

Quite the opposite. God spoke to him through them. I’ve always been a writer. I don’t write fiction or self-help or anything book-worthy, but I write my life. It’s my therapy. It’s who I am. When Justin and I first started talking, I gave him access to my livejournal and told him that if he wanted to know me, he should read it. We’ve had that conversation many times. I get so much more of myself out when I write.

I stopped livejournal for a few reasons and one of them was because Justin didn’t like it that I would vent there. I can understand that, yet at the same time, it’s how I process things. I don’t talk things out. I write them out. All day, every day, I process things in my head with writing. My life is a journal entry – both for good and for bad.

Reading those reminded him of us in the beginning. There were entries about him. It reminded him of how we used to be. And, it finally sunk in that writing is my therapy. He asked me to start doing again. He asked me to livejournal again – to at least give it a try. He knows that I blog, but even he recognizes that it isn’t the same for me. I have to be careful of so many things and I still offend people regularly. I don’t do very well when I have to censor myself. I need to write. He also wants to set up a sewing/writing place for me to go.

I’m crying just typing this out. It was like he finally gets me…again. He used to get me, and I haven’t felt like that in a while.

So, I don’t know if I will, but I might be back.

Selfish!

Depression is such a selfish state of mind. It really is. I have friends that I’ve watched go through it, and I’ve thought about how selfish they are at the time. I’ve thought about it in my own life too.

What stinks though is that you are nearly incapable of changing it. I’ve watched friends so overcome by depression and their spouse so angry and resentful and completely unable to do anything right by them. I’ve felt terribly sorry for that spouse. The spouse feels responsible, yet unable to even help fix it. That goes for anyone near the depressed person.

I see it in my own life. I have moments where I completely lose it. It’s hard enough for me to navigate. It’s impossible for those near me. They can’t do anything right and they can’t help me either, in my view at the time. It’s an all-consuming feeling that leads to helplessness. Even though I can identify it and understand it, I haven’t figured out how to fix it. Even recognizing the selfishness at the time doesn’t help. It’s still too consuming.

I hate the selfishness. I hate it that I feel like things should be centered around me because they should not. That is not who I am, yet I become it. Depression sucks!

Ahhhh PPD

I’m pretty sure I’m feeling some postpartum depression. (Speak out!)

It could be the birth, the life events or some situations, or it could be all of it together, which is what I think. Either way, it’s here and I’m a bit of a mess. OK, a lot of a mess.

At what point though, does anyone care? I know how helpless you can feel when those close to you are depressed. I’ve been there and I know, so I don’t say that condemningly. It’s just that you go to your 6 week doctor’s appointment and that’s one of the questions they ask. When they ask and you immediately start bawling, that’s a pretty good indication. However, that’s all they ask. Nothing more. At the end of the appointment, I have to say, “Oh wait. Hey, um, is there something I need to do about this?” And they say, “well, if you get suicidal seek help immediately or if you notice is getting worse.” OOOOK. How worse? Who do you seek help from because I thought by talking to you, I was? It’s confusing. Seems like a lot of work to find help. And, that was 5 weeks ago.

On top of that, people have no sympathy. I’m not saying lay down and worship me or be overly sympathetic, but a little non-insulting could go a long way when all I want to do it lock myself in the bathroom and cry for 3 days. I’m not talking my husband here. I’m thankful to have a husband that at the mention of depression goes on high alert. I’m eternally thankful for that! It helps soooo much.

He knows my history. I had severe ppd with Kristen. It lasted a full year and I was extremely suicidal. I had it planned and at times had letters written to my children. It was very bad. I’m not to that point now and I don’t think I will get there. Thankful!

This is much harder than I ever imagined it would be. Call me weak. Call me whatever name you want to call me, but make sure you call me real too. This stuff is hard! Yeah, I know I chose life as a military wife. I know that much of what I’m living right now is because of that choice. I’m proud of my soldier. I’m proud to be a military wife. I don’t regret that decision. I’m still convinced fully that we made the right move to come here and take this job. I’m convinced fully that Kara is a welcomed 4th gift from God. I’m fully convinced that God knows what He is doing. I will also stand by the fact that even though all of that is true, it’s still hard. I still have a hard time even floating sometimes. We will get through it…and alive. My prayer for myself right now is just to rise above the hurt and the pain (some self-inflicted, some not) and embrace life again. I have some personal things to wade through. I’ll do it though.

It just might take me some time though.

Achievement

Being a mom can be a thankless job and sometimes that is darn right depressing. There are times when I really need a pat on the back or a “you are amazing”. Justin even says that I fish for compliments. I do. I need it. I suppose it’s one of my love languages – words of affirmation.

There are times when I really need those compliments.

Then there are times when I do certain things and I just think, “man, I know I’m pretty darn good.” As a mother, you have those moments when you know you rock. We all do. As lame as my accomplishments may seem, they make me feel great!

I had one of those moments the other night. Justin went to hang out with the guys from work. Kristen had a softball game. I took Kristen (8), Migc (9), Jaden (2) and Kara (2 months) to the game. Kristen was playing and Migc does a pretty good job of helping me keep up with Jaden and as long as I’m holding Kara the right way, she’s golden. No biggie, right? Well, Jaden is newly potty trained, so when he told me that he needed to go pee, we took off for the bathroom. Getting him there really wasn’t a big deal – he needed to go. Getting him on the potty was another story all together. He couldn’t sit on it because he couldn’t get positioned right to direct his aim into the toilet because it was one of those where the seat splits in the front (don’t they think of little boys when they make those things??). He wanted to sit on it backwards like Daddy does for him, but I couldn’t hold Kara and get him undressed and able to do that at the same time. He couldn’t stand up because the toilet was too tall. So, I picked him up with my right arm wrapped around his stomach while I held Kara in my left arm. I balanced him over the toilet directing his aim into the toilet and it worked!

We made our back to the game and about 20 minutes later, he had to go again. Same scenario all over again.

On our way back to the game, I’m smiling at myself and feeling very proud of my achievement. I didn’t need a pat on the back. Hovering your child over the toilet while holding a baby and getting the aim into the toilet is an accomplishment that demands no compliment in my mind!