There and Back Again
This is a somewhat more personal post than usual . . . well, all my posts are personal, it's not like I write about other people, but I feel like baring my soul today so here goes.
As I've mentioned before, I had pretty bad postpartum depression after having B. But my struggle with depression didn't really begin then. It's my personal Achilles' heel, and I've battled with it in one way or another most of my life. It first reared its ugly head when I was about 10 or 11 years old. I can remember crying late at night over my inability to understand my math homework and wondering if I should just kill myself because I couldn't face it anymore. It sounds silly now-- what on earth is the big deal about 5th grade math? But at the time it was a truly wretched experience.
Over the years I've had occasional better periods than others. Usually the depression was worst during the winter, so during the summer I felt almost normal. I learned to hide it best I could from everyone around me too. It wasn't that I didn't want their help-- it's just that I was so convinced I was such a terrible person, and I didn't want anyone to know I was so "bad." In fact, I think I was so good at fooling people that when I finally, timidly told my Bishop about the depression (just before I got married), he casually dismissed it, saying he could send me to counseling if I really wanted just so the counselor could tell me I was normal. OK. So in my warped way of thinking, I decided that if how I felt was normal, then my miserable bad feelings were just a normal part of life and I deserved them.
I hit rock bottom while we were living in Sanders. One bleak February morning, I just couldn't face my life anymore. I had a three kids aged four and under, we were living an hour from any kind of civilization (if you consider Gallup, NM civilization,) I was serving as RS president in our church branch, and my friends were moving away one by one. It was just too overwhelming, and with the postpartum hormonal insanity added in, I knew I was in actual physical danger that day. After some desperate, pleading prayers for help, I loaded up my kids and drove to my friend Melissa's house. I had not one glimmer of an intention of asking her for help, but I figured that if I was at her house at least I would be somewhat safe.
However, when I pulled up at Melissa's door, she wasn't home. She was in the process of moving, and I'm sure she was in the middle of some move-related errands, so I just sat in her driveway and cried some more. (My poor children probably wondered what in the world was wrong with their mother.) Then I truly believe God intervened. I felt impressed to stop in and visit an older couple who lived around the corner from me. Freda had been housebound for awhile; she had terrible osteoporosis and couldn't even walk anymore. I visited with her and her husband for a good hour, and at the end of it, life didn't seem so bleak, and I was able to pull myself together for the rest of the day.
After that truly horrible day, Terence and I had some serious discussions about what to do. Terence knew I was in trouble (though even Terence didn't know how bad it actually was either.) In the end we decided that the best way to get help would be closer to my family and the real city, so Terence put in a transfer request at work.
My first step in healing came through a book called Feeling Good. It was a gift from my acupuncturist Lea. (She feels that the whole reason we met was so that I could get that book.) The book teaches the cognitive therapy method of fighting depression. For the first time I learned that my thoughts were actually the root of my problem. Imagine living with someone who is constantly shouting demeaning, cruel, and irrational things at you. It would bring you down, right? Well, that was what was going on inside my head, day in and day out.
That helped a lot, but it didn't fully solve the problem. I didn't even realize that there was more until after I had K. My OB put me on Zoloft, and suddenly the final missing piece was in place. I truly feel like a new person. I suspect everyone around me can see it too. I have energy I've never had, patience with my kids that was nonexistent before, excitement to try new things, and just in general, I'm happy. It's like a four ton weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I didn't even realize that it was possible to feel like this!!!! It's not that I'm constantly riding some kind of high-- I have my good moments and bad, hard days and easy ones like anyone else. But for the first time in my life I feel free. That's the only way I can describe it.
I'm so grateful that the Lord helped me find this healing. I truly believe that He has blessed my life and freed me from this particular trial. I probably will struggle with it again-- I don't get to stay on Zoloft forever, and my thoughts are still attacking me sometimes. But I am so thankful for this season of light in my life after so much darkness.
As I've mentioned before, I had pretty bad postpartum depression after having B. But my struggle with depression didn't really begin then. It's my personal Achilles' heel, and I've battled with it in one way or another most of my life. It first reared its ugly head when I was about 10 or 11 years old. I can remember crying late at night over my inability to understand my math homework and wondering if I should just kill myself because I couldn't face it anymore. It sounds silly now-- what on earth is the big deal about 5th grade math? But at the time it was a truly wretched experience.
Over the years I've had occasional better periods than others. Usually the depression was worst during the winter, so during the summer I felt almost normal. I learned to hide it best I could from everyone around me too. It wasn't that I didn't want their help-- it's just that I was so convinced I was such a terrible person, and I didn't want anyone to know I was so "bad." In fact, I think I was so good at fooling people that when I finally, timidly told my Bishop about the depression (just before I got married), he casually dismissed it, saying he could send me to counseling if I really wanted just so the counselor could tell me I was normal. OK. So in my warped way of thinking, I decided that if how I felt was normal, then my miserable bad feelings were just a normal part of life and I deserved them.
I hit rock bottom while we were living in Sanders. One bleak February morning, I just couldn't face my life anymore. I had a three kids aged four and under, we were living an hour from any kind of civilization (if you consider Gallup, NM civilization,) I was serving as RS president in our church branch, and my friends were moving away one by one. It was just too overwhelming, and with the postpartum hormonal insanity added in, I knew I was in actual physical danger that day. After some desperate, pleading prayers for help, I loaded up my kids and drove to my friend Melissa's house. I had not one glimmer of an intention of asking her for help, but I figured that if I was at her house at least I would be somewhat safe.
However, when I pulled up at Melissa's door, she wasn't home. She was in the process of moving, and I'm sure she was in the middle of some move-related errands, so I just sat in her driveway and cried some more. (My poor children probably wondered what in the world was wrong with their mother.) Then I truly believe God intervened. I felt impressed to stop in and visit an older couple who lived around the corner from me. Freda had been housebound for awhile; she had terrible osteoporosis and couldn't even walk anymore. I visited with her and her husband for a good hour, and at the end of it, life didn't seem so bleak, and I was able to pull myself together for the rest of the day.
After that truly horrible day, Terence and I had some serious discussions about what to do. Terence knew I was in trouble (though even Terence didn't know how bad it actually was either.) In the end we decided that the best way to get help would be closer to my family and the real city, so Terence put in a transfer request at work.
My first step in healing came through a book called Feeling Good. It was a gift from my acupuncturist Lea. (She feels that the whole reason we met was so that I could get that book.) The book teaches the cognitive therapy method of fighting depression. For the first time I learned that my thoughts were actually the root of my problem. Imagine living with someone who is constantly shouting demeaning, cruel, and irrational things at you. It would bring you down, right? Well, that was what was going on inside my head, day in and day out.
That helped a lot, but it didn't fully solve the problem. I didn't even realize that there was more until after I had K. My OB put me on Zoloft, and suddenly the final missing piece was in place. I truly feel like a new person. I suspect everyone around me can see it too. I have energy I've never had, patience with my kids that was nonexistent before, excitement to try new things, and just in general, I'm happy. It's like a four ton weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I didn't even realize that it was possible to feel like this!!!! It's not that I'm constantly riding some kind of high-- I have my good moments and bad, hard days and easy ones like anyone else. But for the first time in my life I feel free. That's the only way I can describe it.
I'm so grateful that the Lord helped me find this healing. I truly believe that He has blessed my life and freed me from this particular trial. I probably will struggle with it again-- I don't get to stay on Zoloft forever, and my thoughts are still attacking me sometimes. But I am so thankful for this season of light in my life after so much darkness.
Comments
Keep up the fight. We all love you and hope the best for you always.
Once I tried taking (a family members), medication for it and nearly died after. I woke up in the night with horrible crazy thoughts and had to call Luke to come sit with me (we weren't married yet). Now I'm too scared to try anything else... my body does not handle medication well at all, and I never want to go through what I went through that night again. I have a friend who does muscle testing and I call her often to find out what kinds of vitamins my body is in need of. That seems to help most the time.
Anyway, glad you found something that works for you. It's good to have a support system with people who understand (as much as they can), too.
I love it when people share their innermost trials and remedies. I'm sure most of us have been there, with a little change here and there. I apapreciate your sharing. I have been on depression meds for about 15 years. I think it is a big thing with women because of all we face with life and responsibility of children. We are so much more empathetic. Just want you to know that you definitely have a strong support system on here.
With love, your 2nd cuz