I have been going through something, and as much as an open book as I pride myself on being, I’ve kept it to myself as much as possible. I’m still trying to work out why, but it felt right at the time.
It’s been a long few weeks, but this last week was the very bottom of it. And it’s because between doctors being on holidays, and me just plain procrastinating, I went two days without my meds, a week and a half ago ago.
If you’re thinking that doesn’t sound like a big deal, I was right there with you. Two little days! Two little days is all it took to remind me how fucking powerful these pills are, how fucking necessary they are FOR ME, and how fucking thankful I am for them.
It’s taken me much longer then I’d assumed to mentally come to terms with the losses our family has felt over the last few weeks, then PMS hit hard, then suddenly it was August which meant I only had a month left as a full time stay at home mom, and I felt depressed for the first time in years. Of course death and huge life changes are things that anyone would naturally pair with some degree of depression, but being off my meds took it to a very unnatural level. There was an overwhelming fatigue for a few days, my nerves just screamed for my bed while wrangling a sweaty toddler all day. And I cried, so much. And then the withdrawal kicked in.
Yes, two days is all it took for my body and my brain to start panicking and searching desperately for the one thing that has successfully kept shit in order for more then 12 years. Restless Leg Syndrome was certainly the most obvious withdrawal symptom, and when you’re not sleeping properly, depressed or not, nothing is right in the world. Every night for a week I’d lay in bed crying while I twitched and stretched my muscles, then I paced the living room for a half hour before going back to bed to cry and twitch again. I was beyond irritable, beyond unmotivated, and just felt empty. Amidst all the crying, though, (seriously, so much crying) I was also reminded of how lucky I am; not only do I have a remarkably supportive family that let me nap when I could, and friends who checked in on me, I’ve also found enough self confidence to be medicated.
So many people struggle through every day, unnecessarily, because society has convinced them that turning to a prescription is weak and that NEEDING help with their mental health makes them less-than. It hasn’t always been easy for me, of course. I started my meds in high school after an episode of Oprah made me realize That how I’d been feeling was called Depression, and told no one. A few years later someone who was a best friend told me they didn’t Want me around their child anymore, after finding out I had panic attacks and took ‘drugs’.
The stigma is a motherfucker, and I know that it robs far too many good people of a better life. Especially moms. Moms who already question every parenting decision and compare themselves to every other mother on the planet and are made to feel like they need to live up to these epic standards that no one’s ever actually seen before... ‘You have a beautiful child, how can you be depressed?’ ‘How can you take care of your kids if you have panic attacks every time you feel sick?’
It’s scary, admitting you can’t do LIFE on your own. Everyone experiences the death of loved ones, job stress, the parenting rollercoaster, breakups and divorces, car accidents and unexpected financial woes... And it’s too easy to assume that EVERYONE else just does it, they just power through and they deal. Everyone else makes it look so easy, so I shouldn’t be struggling. But I hope that someone out their takes some kind of comfort in the fact that I am not everyone else.
I am doing it, powering through and dealing, but I am also medicated. I am a wife and a really great mother, and I am also medicated. I am a really worthy human being, who just happens to be medicated.
I’ve been taking my meds nightly again, for 8 days, and with the help of a new RLS prescription and an Ativan, I finally slept last night. Sleep is life changing. And so are the drugs. And things are finally looking up again. When the people we love pass away, it haunts us on and off, possibly for the rest of our lives, and I am still dealing with overwhelming feelings regarding Kindergarten, but at least I’ve got a stable starting place, again.
Ps. Please know that if you are one of those people who are able to take what life throws at you and conquer it naturally, I am so happy for you, and so proud of you. But, if you are someone who’s asked for help, I bow down to you because I know it’s not the easy way out. And if you are one of those people that are stuck in the middle, hurting but thinking it’s too late to seek treatment, it isn’t. It never is. We all deserve a fair chance at facing the day, and I’ve concluded that that’s what my medication is.
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Friday, August 10, 2018
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Postpartum Princess
I've been quite open with my mental illness struggles over the years,
mostly through this blog. It makes sense
that I've been asked (usually not directly) about my mental status since my
little Boden came along.
So here's an update!
Postpartum Depression effects a large (larger then you'd assume) number of women, and my years of prior depression did make me more vulnerable. I knew going into it that there was a good chance I could develop it, and as my due date grew closer, I did worry a bit. I'm sure my husband and my family worried more then I did. Knowing how crippling depression can be, it was hard to imagine caring for a brand new baby in the throes of it.
Alas! I have come out unscathed. So far! Curious, I Googled, and Postpartum Depression can start at any time during the first few months, though usually in the first week or two. I can admit to being a little weary of the weather changing, as I'm one of about a million Canadians that deal with a touch of seasonal depression during our revolting winter every year, but by then I should be much better at keeping occupied, and feeling much more comfortable leaving the house with the baby. So really, I can honestly (and gratefully) say that Postpartum Depression was/is not in the cards for this mommy.
Once we did get home, I definitely experienced what I assume were the 'baby blues'. The hormones that surge through your body AFTER the pregnancy is over, are remarkable, and I cried A LOT. But I'm fairly sure that's normal. There is an adjustment period, and it's hard, and crying helps! They weren't sad tears, or angry tears, just because tears.
I did notice my anxiety ramping up in the hospital, but that was expected. I do not deal well with not being in control of my body, it's a diagnosed fear, and I'm not sure if there's any point in life where you give up more control then during delivery. Also, no one LIKES being in the hospital, and I was there much longer then anticipated. Anyone who can actually sleep in the hospital is my hero, especially between the scheduled interruptions for poking and prodding. The bathroom was awful, which is a big deal for me and my tummy, and there were just far too many strangers around at all times. I have said that we greatly appreciated the care we received before being discharged, but the last 48hrs or so I could feel the anxiety just crawling under my skin.
The hardest part for me, was the physical recovery. I have been sick for years, but feeling disabled while being completely depended on by a helpless baby was not something I accepted well. The pain was pretty unreal.
I do not wish dislocated hips on my worst enemy. It was a good two weeks before I could walk without wincing. I left our basement apartment as little as possible because the stairs were awful, and I needed a stool to get in and out of bed. Sleeping was AWFUL! I am NOT a back sleeper, but my hips wouldn't let me sleep on my side again for nearly a month.
And then there's the vagina stitches. Good lord! Stitches do not belong anywhere near a vagina! Granted I haven't had stitches anywhere else (well, internally after surgery I guess), I can't imagine stitches in your arm feel anything like stitches in your VAGINA! As soon as the epidural wore off, the feeling was literally breath-taking. Standing up and sitting down would suck the breath right out of me. As would taking steps bigger then a shuffle. Unless you had your vagina cut/torn open for some other reason then a baby, it's not like you can just lay in bed for a month while it heals, so it's a constant pulling and stretching. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous, lol.
My greatest suggestion to all expecting mothers, is to be prepared with Witch Hazel pads! Just in case! You can buy pre-soaked pads from Tucks, or after every bathroom break you soak a cotton ball in it, and leave it against the incision before pulling your pants back up! (Not that I was able to get my legs into pants for like 2 weeks) I could just kiss the friend that recommended this to me, for saving me from vagina-stitches-pain-induced hysteria.
The physical pain though, left me feeling helpless, and that's what was so hard to deal with. There is so much you need to physically do when you bring a new baby home, and so much more that you want to do. Had my inability to move freely lasted much longer, I can see how that would have lead to a depression, for sure. I'm don’t know if it's just a woman thing, or a protective mother thing, but I naturally expected so much of myself, and felt like such a failure when I couldn’t get out of bed to feed him fast enough in the middle of the night. It's hard to be patient with yourself when you're trying to be the best mommy you can be.
Now though, it has been almost 11 weeks since giving birth and I am feeling pretty great! I'm constantly amazed by how little sleep I can function off of. I have survived two episodes of clogged milk ducts (yet another glorious reason that men should be thankful they were born men), and I’m finally (almost) going to the bathroom like a normal person again.
I have also dropped back down to my pre-baby weight! Which is exciting, but nothing I can take credit for really, as it just happened naturally. I still find it remarkable, all the things my body has just done all on its own. Of course every woman leaves about 10lbs behind in the delivery room (or more, if you're blessed with a big baby, yeowzers!), but by Boden's 1 week appointment I had already lost 25lbs! Next to Gastric Bypass, I'm sure having a baby is the only way a person can lose 25lbs in a week.
It's all VERY different, though. I weigh what I did before getting pregnant, but the weight looks very different. My boobs are bigger of course, and my hips are still a little bigger. Did you know that your hands can stay swollen after having a baby? My legs (hips to feet) swelled to the size if tree trunks after the delivery, but they returned to normal after about two weeks, and yet I still can't get my wedding ring on my finger!
Everything is much softer, too. Of course! The few stretch marks on my tummy are fading nicely (another very pleasant surprise), but it'll take some gym dedication to regain the muscle tone that disappears as everything stretches to accommodate the baby. I just bought bright, new runners which will hopefully serve as a little extra motivation to get to the gym. Eventually! I have however just started to go for daily walks, as STRONGLY suggested by my dad. It does in fact feel pretty good to be outside, and having at least one excuse to get out of my PJs every day is a very good thing. Plus, if I walk every (work week, lol) day then Friday's we walk to Starbucks ;)
And that is all, for now! My Endometriosis and I are duking it out again, already, but I don't have the time or desire to type about that right now. Boden continues to grow, and change in huge ways. He has been sleeping better, and better. He babbles and chatters, and he is going to be a great jumper! He's starting to smile! He is so handsome its ridiculous! It isn't easy by any means, becoming a parent, but we have adjusted quite well. We're continuing to adjust! We are all quite happy, and healthy, and so well loved. And really, that's all that matters when it comes to this update. Isn't it?
So here's an update!
Postpartum Depression effects a large (larger then you'd assume) number of women, and my years of prior depression did make me more vulnerable. I knew going into it that there was a good chance I could develop it, and as my due date grew closer, I did worry a bit. I'm sure my husband and my family worried more then I did. Knowing how crippling depression can be, it was hard to imagine caring for a brand new baby in the throes of it.
Alas! I have come out unscathed. So far! Curious, I Googled, and Postpartum Depression can start at any time during the first few months, though usually in the first week or two. I can admit to being a little weary of the weather changing, as I'm one of about a million Canadians that deal with a touch of seasonal depression during our revolting winter every year, but by then I should be much better at keeping occupied, and feeling much more comfortable leaving the house with the baby. So really, I can honestly (and gratefully) say that Postpartum Depression was/is not in the cards for this mommy.
Once we did get home, I definitely experienced what I assume were the 'baby blues'. The hormones that surge through your body AFTER the pregnancy is over, are remarkable, and I cried A LOT. But I'm fairly sure that's normal. There is an adjustment period, and it's hard, and crying helps! They weren't sad tears, or angry tears, just because tears.
I did notice my anxiety ramping up in the hospital, but that was expected. I do not deal well with not being in control of my body, it's a diagnosed fear, and I'm not sure if there's any point in life where you give up more control then during delivery. Also, no one LIKES being in the hospital, and I was there much longer then anticipated. Anyone who can actually sleep in the hospital is my hero, especially between the scheduled interruptions for poking and prodding. The bathroom was awful, which is a big deal for me and my tummy, and there were just far too many strangers around at all times. I have said that we greatly appreciated the care we received before being discharged, but the last 48hrs or so I could feel the anxiety just crawling under my skin.
The hardest part for me, was the physical recovery. I have been sick for years, but feeling disabled while being completely depended on by a helpless baby was not something I accepted well. The pain was pretty unreal.
I do not wish dislocated hips on my worst enemy. It was a good two weeks before I could walk without wincing. I left our basement apartment as little as possible because the stairs were awful, and I needed a stool to get in and out of bed. Sleeping was AWFUL! I am NOT a back sleeper, but my hips wouldn't let me sleep on my side again for nearly a month.
And then there's the vagina stitches. Good lord! Stitches do not belong anywhere near a vagina! Granted I haven't had stitches anywhere else (well, internally after surgery I guess), I can't imagine stitches in your arm feel anything like stitches in your VAGINA! As soon as the epidural wore off, the feeling was literally breath-taking. Standing up and sitting down would suck the breath right out of me. As would taking steps bigger then a shuffle. Unless you had your vagina cut/torn open for some other reason then a baby, it's not like you can just lay in bed for a month while it heals, so it's a constant pulling and stretching. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous, lol.
My greatest suggestion to all expecting mothers, is to be prepared with Witch Hazel pads! Just in case! You can buy pre-soaked pads from Tucks, or after every bathroom break you soak a cotton ball in it, and leave it against the incision before pulling your pants back up! (Not that I was able to get my legs into pants for like 2 weeks) I could just kiss the friend that recommended this to me, for saving me from vagina-stitches-pain-induced hysteria.
The physical pain though, left me feeling helpless, and that's what was so hard to deal with. There is so much you need to physically do when you bring a new baby home, and so much more that you want to do. Had my inability to move freely lasted much longer, I can see how that would have lead to a depression, for sure. I'm don’t know if it's just a woman thing, or a protective mother thing, but I naturally expected so much of myself, and felt like such a failure when I couldn’t get out of bed to feed him fast enough in the middle of the night. It's hard to be patient with yourself when you're trying to be the best mommy you can be.
Now though, it has been almost 11 weeks since giving birth and I am feeling pretty great! I'm constantly amazed by how little sleep I can function off of. I have survived two episodes of clogged milk ducts (yet another glorious reason that men should be thankful they were born men), and I’m finally (almost) going to the bathroom like a normal person again.
I have also dropped back down to my pre-baby weight! Which is exciting, but nothing I can take credit for really, as it just happened naturally. I still find it remarkable, all the things my body has just done all on its own. Of course every woman leaves about 10lbs behind in the delivery room (or more, if you're blessed with a big baby, yeowzers!), but by Boden's 1 week appointment I had already lost 25lbs! Next to Gastric Bypass, I'm sure having a baby is the only way a person can lose 25lbs in a week.
It's all VERY different, though. I weigh what I did before getting pregnant, but the weight looks very different. My boobs are bigger of course, and my hips are still a little bigger. Did you know that your hands can stay swollen after having a baby? My legs (hips to feet) swelled to the size if tree trunks after the delivery, but they returned to normal after about two weeks, and yet I still can't get my wedding ring on my finger!
Everything is much softer, too. Of course! The few stretch marks on my tummy are fading nicely (another very pleasant surprise), but it'll take some gym dedication to regain the muscle tone that disappears as everything stretches to accommodate the baby. I just bought bright, new runners which will hopefully serve as a little extra motivation to get to the gym. Eventually! I have however just started to go for daily walks, as STRONGLY suggested by my dad. It does in fact feel pretty good to be outside, and having at least one excuse to get out of my PJs every day is a very good thing. Plus, if I walk every (work week, lol) day then Friday's we walk to Starbucks ;)
And that is all, for now! My Endometriosis and I are duking it out again, already, but I don't have the time or desire to type about that right now. Boden continues to grow, and change in huge ways. He has been sleeping better, and better. He babbles and chatters, and he is going to be a great jumper! He's starting to smile! He is so handsome its ridiculous! It isn't easy by any means, becoming a parent, but we have adjusted quite well. We're continuing to adjust! We are all quite happy, and healthy, and so well loved. And really, that's all that matters when it comes to this update. Isn't it?
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
How Many Times Have I Tweeted, 'Deep Breaths'?
It recently came to my attention that its hard for anyone who has never
come off of prescription medication, to understand what it's like to come off
of prescription medication. So! In hopes of distracting myself from the current
overwhelming urge to escape, and to cry, I thought I'd attempt to explain it.
Firstly, it's hard for ME to understand what's going on. As things get uncomfortable, I'm constantly reminding myself that on top of the fact that it just underwent surgery two months ago, my body is going through so many changes. Therefore I don't hold it against anyone at all, when they don't understand, or even choose to judge the situation that I'm currently in.
Many people assume, when you mention that you're working your way off medication, that its like detoxing. It's not. Not for me anyways. Those classy enough to catch shows such as Dr Drew's Celebrity Rehab, know that coming off of alcohol or recreational drugs usually involves shakes, and sweats, and puking, and sometimes seizures. For me, the reactions or side effects are basically invisible.
I am gradually coming off of Celexa, a drug that my brain has been thriving on for 10 years. Almost exactly 10 years, actually. I first started on it as a way to deal with my depression. A few years ago after experimenting with a few different brands, we ended up increasing my dose of Celexa to deal with my acute panic disorder, on top of the depression. I've been on it so long that I couldn't tell you what it actually does for me, I don't remember what it felt like when it sunk in for the first time and started making me feel better. Coming off of the drug now, I realize that I have taken it and its huge effect on my life, for granted.
The best way to explain things may be to say that I feel like a teenager going through puberty for the first time. So many 'new' physical and mental feelings all at once. It's overwhelming, and it's frustrating or even a little nerve racking, because I don't know my body is doing or feelings certain things at certain time. The medication put me in control of my mind and my body, but now I'm relinquishing it.
It doesn't take much to raise the temperature of my blood, or to make my skin crawl. The ridiculous spacing of this current Word Doc alone is making me want to punch things. Someone who's been in this same situation might notice my newly acquired ticks (for lack of a better word), though I don't even notice them sometimes. I find my hands in fists, or my fingers and toes wriggling around when it gets bad. My skin has gotten so sensitive sometimes that even my FIANCÉ'S (tee hee) hand on my back, makes me want to throw up. I also worry that my dentist is going to notice how much I've been grinding my teeth lately.
All of that is my anxiety creeping back in.
Oh! I will take a minute to acknowledge now, the powers of therapies which do not involve drugs. Talk therapy, art therapy, CBT, etc are all things that while at the time may not have seemed super useful, are proving to have been benefitting me this whole time. The fact that I'm not back on the bathroom floor right now, even though I'm nauseous as heck, is testament to all of the hard work I've done over the last few years, on top of taking the right meds. While I am very comfortable saying that I still couldn't have survived the last few years without drug therapy, I am very thankful that I was given the opportunity to partake in so many other kinds of therapy, because that is what I am holding onto now.
When we first started discussing babies, which involved discussing coming off my medication, I was very worried about the depression. My fiancé has seen me in the midst of the most horrific anxiety, but he didn't know me when I was depressed. Then again, when I was depressed, lol no one noticed anyways! Depression was always very easy for me to hide. I'm a born actress (I think, anyways lol), and high school was prime time to 'fake it til you make it', so no one ever worried about me, until I asked them too.
I feel extremely nervous to admit that I have felt depressed, since starting to come off of my medication. It's never a serious depression, and usually it'll only last an hour! It's just a BLAH feeling, and I don't want to talk to anyone, or do anything, so I'll go back to bed, and wake up feeling better. I call it the 'high school' feeling. If I'm driving when it's dark out, and there's some slow song on...I get very sentimental...and my brain starts thinking about our old family home, and when we were all young and careless and silly, and family vacations, and smoking at parties even though I thought smoking was gross...and my body starts to feel like I remember it feeling in high school. And that's when I feel a little nervous. And that's when I search for a station playing that stupid Miley song, and I text something inappropriate to BriBear, and make plans to do something with another person. Because I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable enough to reminisce that way, without medication.
However! I can't be sure (and neither can my doctors, really) what symptoms and side effects are from coming off the Celexa, and what are from coming off my birth control! Because I'm doing that, too! Because who doesn't want to deprive their body of ALL the extra chemicals and hormones that it’s been living off of for 10 years, all at once?
What was I thinking!?
Well, lol. I guess I was thinking that I'd like for the baby who will be growing in my tummy any time now, to eventually come out of my tummy with only 1 head, and 10 fingers and toes.
And that's what I have to keep reminding myself. And that's what I have to keep reminding the people around me who also have to deal with all my new feelings etc. I'm not doing this just for fun! It's the least amount of fun I've ever had! I'm doing it because we want a baby, and because we HAVE to have that baby soon. And we want that baby to be happy and healthy. Mine is likely the least desirable uterus to have to live in. So I figure, if the baby can survive in there, then I can survive without drugs. Seems fair, right?
I try to be funny, and sarcastic about it, and I know I do a good job at hiding it. But it is hard. It's actually really hard sometimes, and that's why I'm not really working this summer. The timing is perfect really, since my school job gives me the summer off. Planning a wedding is enough to make any 'normal' person lose it at least a little, especially planning a wedding in less then 4 months! When I then realized I needed to plan a wedding, and at the same time come off of all my medication, not getting a summer job seemed smart. It seemed like the safest thing, for me. This way I can enjoy the process of planning our special day, and I can get through it without hurting people, or myself. And while wedding planning doesn't make for the IDEAL time to come off the meds...there won't ever be an actual perfect time to do it. Just like there's really no perfect time to have a baby! So why not!
I am currently on 1/4 of my original Celexa dose (and zero birth control), and I'm still alive. I get outrageous headaches (which I was never prone to before), my stomach may flip from violently nauseous to painfully hungry every 15 minutes (needless to say, eating has drastically dropped on my list of favorite things to do), and I may cry watching animal rescue videos on you tube, and Say Yes To The Dress...but I'm still alive, and that's all that matters! I'm not in a ball on the bathroom floor, I'm not even desperate for Ativan. I’m not telling random strangers to fuck off, or calling off the wedding. A year ago even, I never would have put money on my ability to function, let alone be a productive and loving fiancé without any medication. It's good news! It's completely exhausting some days, but it's impressive. I'm impressed. I'm impressed, AND getting married in like 5 weeks! Imagine!
Firstly, it's hard for ME to understand what's going on. As things get uncomfortable, I'm constantly reminding myself that on top of the fact that it just underwent surgery two months ago, my body is going through so many changes. Therefore I don't hold it against anyone at all, when they don't understand, or even choose to judge the situation that I'm currently in.
Many people assume, when you mention that you're working your way off medication, that its like detoxing. It's not. Not for me anyways. Those classy enough to catch shows such as Dr Drew's Celebrity Rehab, know that coming off of alcohol or recreational drugs usually involves shakes, and sweats, and puking, and sometimes seizures. For me, the reactions or side effects are basically invisible.
I am gradually coming off of Celexa, a drug that my brain has been thriving on for 10 years. Almost exactly 10 years, actually. I first started on it as a way to deal with my depression. A few years ago after experimenting with a few different brands, we ended up increasing my dose of Celexa to deal with my acute panic disorder, on top of the depression. I've been on it so long that I couldn't tell you what it actually does for me, I don't remember what it felt like when it sunk in for the first time and started making me feel better. Coming off of the drug now, I realize that I have taken it and its huge effect on my life, for granted.
The best way to explain things may be to say that I feel like a teenager going through puberty for the first time. So many 'new' physical and mental feelings all at once. It's overwhelming, and it's frustrating or even a little nerve racking, because I don't know my body is doing or feelings certain things at certain time. The medication put me in control of my mind and my body, but now I'm relinquishing it.
It doesn't take much to raise the temperature of my blood, or to make my skin crawl. The ridiculous spacing of this current Word Doc alone is making me want to punch things. Someone who's been in this same situation might notice my newly acquired ticks (for lack of a better word), though I don't even notice them sometimes. I find my hands in fists, or my fingers and toes wriggling around when it gets bad. My skin has gotten so sensitive sometimes that even my FIANCÉ'S (tee hee) hand on my back, makes me want to throw up. I also worry that my dentist is going to notice how much I've been grinding my teeth lately.
All of that is my anxiety creeping back in.
Oh! I will take a minute to acknowledge now, the powers of therapies which do not involve drugs. Talk therapy, art therapy, CBT, etc are all things that while at the time may not have seemed super useful, are proving to have been benefitting me this whole time. The fact that I'm not back on the bathroom floor right now, even though I'm nauseous as heck, is testament to all of the hard work I've done over the last few years, on top of taking the right meds. While I am very comfortable saying that I still couldn't have survived the last few years without drug therapy, I am very thankful that I was given the opportunity to partake in so many other kinds of therapy, because that is what I am holding onto now.
When we first started discussing babies, which involved discussing coming off my medication, I was very worried about the depression. My fiancé has seen me in the midst of the most horrific anxiety, but he didn't know me when I was depressed. Then again, when I was depressed, lol no one noticed anyways! Depression was always very easy for me to hide. I'm a born actress (I think, anyways lol), and high school was prime time to 'fake it til you make it', so no one ever worried about me, until I asked them too.
I feel extremely nervous to admit that I have felt depressed, since starting to come off of my medication. It's never a serious depression, and usually it'll only last an hour! It's just a BLAH feeling, and I don't want to talk to anyone, or do anything, so I'll go back to bed, and wake up feeling better. I call it the 'high school' feeling. If I'm driving when it's dark out, and there's some slow song on...I get very sentimental...and my brain starts thinking about our old family home, and when we were all young and careless and silly, and family vacations, and smoking at parties even though I thought smoking was gross...and my body starts to feel like I remember it feeling in high school. And that's when I feel a little nervous. And that's when I search for a station playing that stupid Miley song, and I text something inappropriate to BriBear, and make plans to do something with another person. Because I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable enough to reminisce that way, without medication.
However! I can't be sure (and neither can my doctors, really) what symptoms and side effects are from coming off the Celexa, and what are from coming off my birth control! Because I'm doing that, too! Because who doesn't want to deprive their body of ALL the extra chemicals and hormones that it’s been living off of for 10 years, all at once?
What was I thinking!?
Well, lol. I guess I was thinking that I'd like for the baby who will be growing in my tummy any time now, to eventually come out of my tummy with only 1 head, and 10 fingers and toes.
And that's what I have to keep reminding myself. And that's what I have to keep reminding the people around me who also have to deal with all my new feelings etc. I'm not doing this just for fun! It's the least amount of fun I've ever had! I'm doing it because we want a baby, and because we HAVE to have that baby soon. And we want that baby to be happy and healthy. Mine is likely the least desirable uterus to have to live in. So I figure, if the baby can survive in there, then I can survive without drugs. Seems fair, right?
I try to be funny, and sarcastic about it, and I know I do a good job at hiding it. But it is hard. It's actually really hard sometimes, and that's why I'm not really working this summer. The timing is perfect really, since my school job gives me the summer off. Planning a wedding is enough to make any 'normal' person lose it at least a little, especially planning a wedding in less then 4 months! When I then realized I needed to plan a wedding, and at the same time come off of all my medication, not getting a summer job seemed smart. It seemed like the safest thing, for me. This way I can enjoy the process of planning our special day, and I can get through it without hurting people, or myself. And while wedding planning doesn't make for the IDEAL time to come off the meds...there won't ever be an actual perfect time to do it. Just like there's really no perfect time to have a baby! So why not!
I am currently on 1/4 of my original Celexa dose (and zero birth control), and I'm still alive. I get outrageous headaches (which I was never prone to before), my stomach may flip from violently nauseous to painfully hungry every 15 minutes (needless to say, eating has drastically dropped on my list of favorite things to do), and I may cry watching animal rescue videos on you tube, and Say Yes To The Dress...but I'm still alive, and that's all that matters! I'm not in a ball on the bathroom floor, I'm not even desperate for Ativan. I’m not telling random strangers to fuck off, or calling off the wedding. A year ago even, I never would have put money on my ability to function, let alone be a productive and loving fiancé without any medication. It's good news! It's completely exhausting some days, but it's impressive. I'm impressed. I'm impressed, AND getting married in like 5 weeks! Imagine!
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Mental Illness Awareness Week
Now is the time, annually, that we take a slightly deeper interest in
mental health. A girlfriend's well-worded blog post on the subject (http://liveitactive.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/lets-talk-about-mental-illness/)
reminded me that I had to type too.
Every year since I began suffering with a mental illness (a good 11 years now), I do feel and believe that the situation as a whole has gotten better. I do feel and believe that the world as a whole has grown more excepting, at least more tolerant of mental illness, and more aware of the importance of mental health. But mental illness is a tough thing to label, describe, and be empathetic about, so there is still so much progress that can be made. So much potential.
Like my friend, I believe the best thing we can do for this disease, is let the world know about it. We have hundreds of drugs, and specialists, and treatment options, but not awareness. Like so many perfectly normal things in this world, mental illness still comes off as being taboo, an embarrassing handicap. This mindset leads us to denial, and by the time we start rounding 30 years old..we should all have had some experience with where denial really gets us!
Besides sever eating disorder cases, a mental illness is an invisible illness, which makes it understandably harder for outsiders to understand, or recognize. When high school friends are shocked to learn that I was diagnosed with depression in my early teens, or when coworkers are shocked to discover that I still fight daily with my anxiety, it is the greatest testament to my likely Oscar-worthy acting skills! (Thank you very much!). No one knows (knew) what I was dealing with because I'm good at hiding it (often the hiding is subconscious, and just happens naturally). When I show up to work with bags under my eyes, it's assumed I was working late, or partying late...not up all night with a gut-wrenching panic attack. Panic attacks aren't nearly as every-day normal as getting shitfaced and dancing until 3am on a Wednesday...so why would anyone assume correctly? We notice a friend is extra moody today, and we assume she must have had a fight with her on again-off again boyfriend, again, not that she's actually suffering from clinical depression and hasn't quite found a medication that works well enough for her.
I've had the luxury of being surrounded by good, accepting people, and being raised to be confident, so it's easier for me to be an open book, where I am in my life now. Panic attacks happen, I see my pharmacist once a month, I cry like a fucking baby sometimes, and Ativan is a gift from god. Those are simple facts to me, but not to everyone. And I understand that side of things as well.
When I first started dealing with my anxiety (because clinical depression wasn't enough for one little woman to deal with..not to mention the overwhelming physical illness..), I was never in denial, but I was embarrassed. I was 25 and while friends were entering careers and getting married and buying homes and making babies, I was living at home, forced to be unemployed, and feeling utterly pathetic. I got very good, for a while, at avoiding that stupid 'what have you been up to?' conversation when running into an old friend randomly. Then I realized just how different my life would be, had I felt comfortable enough to tell my friends and family about my depression when I was in high school. I realized how much it would have helped, if I could have been my real, honest self, and still felt normal and cool. That's when this blog started! I decided it was perfectly ok for me to type, and discuss, and joke about my personal mental illness(es), all the while hoping that it may help others feel perfectly ok to do so too. Because it should be.
One day, depression (and anxiety, bipolar, Aspergers, agoraphobia, manic depression, OCD, etc.) will be seen the way cancer is seen. Scary, sometimes ugly, but REAL and important. Worthy of the worlds attention, and fundraising, and empathy. Until then, I appreciate the baby steps that society is taking. I appreciate professionals (like my friend) taking the time to speak out. I appreciate celebrities (Brooke Shields, Ellen's BABE of a girlfriend, Zach Braff, Cameron Diaz, Howie Mandel, etc) who are unafraid of being honest with their fans, despite their haters. I appreciate brands like Bell, who use their power to raise funds and awareness for the cause. And I appreciate those who continue to love and adore me, despite my nuts-ness ;)
Every year since I began suffering with a mental illness (a good 11 years now), I do feel and believe that the situation as a whole has gotten better. I do feel and believe that the world as a whole has grown more excepting, at least more tolerant of mental illness, and more aware of the importance of mental health. But mental illness is a tough thing to label, describe, and be empathetic about, so there is still so much progress that can be made. So much potential.
Like my friend, I believe the best thing we can do for this disease, is let the world know about it. We have hundreds of drugs, and specialists, and treatment options, but not awareness. Like so many perfectly normal things in this world, mental illness still comes off as being taboo, an embarrassing handicap. This mindset leads us to denial, and by the time we start rounding 30 years old..we should all have had some experience with where denial really gets us!
Besides sever eating disorder cases, a mental illness is an invisible illness, which makes it understandably harder for outsiders to understand, or recognize. When high school friends are shocked to learn that I was diagnosed with depression in my early teens, or when coworkers are shocked to discover that I still fight daily with my anxiety, it is the greatest testament to my likely Oscar-worthy acting skills! (Thank you very much!). No one knows (knew) what I was dealing with because I'm good at hiding it (often the hiding is subconscious, and just happens naturally). When I show up to work with bags under my eyes, it's assumed I was working late, or partying late...not up all night with a gut-wrenching panic attack. Panic attacks aren't nearly as every-day normal as getting shitfaced and dancing until 3am on a Wednesday...so why would anyone assume correctly? We notice a friend is extra moody today, and we assume she must have had a fight with her on again-off again boyfriend, again, not that she's actually suffering from clinical depression and hasn't quite found a medication that works well enough for her.
I've had the luxury of being surrounded by good, accepting people, and being raised to be confident, so it's easier for me to be an open book, where I am in my life now. Panic attacks happen, I see my pharmacist once a month, I cry like a fucking baby sometimes, and Ativan is a gift from god. Those are simple facts to me, but not to everyone. And I understand that side of things as well.
When I first started dealing with my anxiety (because clinical depression wasn't enough for one little woman to deal with..not to mention the overwhelming physical illness..), I was never in denial, but I was embarrassed. I was 25 and while friends were entering careers and getting married and buying homes and making babies, I was living at home, forced to be unemployed, and feeling utterly pathetic. I got very good, for a while, at avoiding that stupid 'what have you been up to?' conversation when running into an old friend randomly. Then I realized just how different my life would be, had I felt comfortable enough to tell my friends and family about my depression when I was in high school. I realized how much it would have helped, if I could have been my real, honest self, and still felt normal and cool. That's when this blog started! I decided it was perfectly ok for me to type, and discuss, and joke about my personal mental illness(es), all the while hoping that it may help others feel perfectly ok to do so too. Because it should be.
One day, depression (and anxiety, bipolar, Aspergers, agoraphobia, manic depression, OCD, etc.) will be seen the way cancer is seen. Scary, sometimes ugly, but REAL and important. Worthy of the worlds attention, and fundraising, and empathy. Until then, I appreciate the baby steps that society is taking. I appreciate professionals (like my friend) taking the time to speak out. I appreciate celebrities (Brooke Shields, Ellen's BABE of a girlfriend, Zach Braff, Cameron Diaz, Howie Mandel, etc) who are unafraid of being honest with their fans, despite their haters. I appreciate brands like Bell, who use their power to raise funds and awareness for the cause. And I appreciate those who continue to love and adore me, despite my nuts-ness ;)
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