After I went to the fabric store and couldn't find the right fake fur for the skunk idea I gave up and bought a costume. Yeah, I didn't try very hard... but even that was a lot of effort for me.
I've mentioned a few times my struggle with depression. Well, in the last few weeks it has gotten much worse. I haven't cared much about doing anything and the little energy I had went into daily life; however, even those few chores I have been able to do have taken the life out of me. I don't know how to describe it except when I would look at the dishes on the counter I felt pain in my gut. As though every chore was a personal insult that struck me at my core.
Last week, in the middle of the major snowstorm here in Denver, I went in to the doctor and am now on an anti-depressant. The hope I feel just knowing that it is going to get better soon is helping me through each day. Soon I'm going to be myself again! Wow. That is awesome.
I write all of this because many of you have told me your own struggles. I want you to know you are not alone. And I encourage you to seek help. There are some amazing therapists, friends, and doctors out there who can help you. They've helped me.
And maybe next year I'll have the energy to make Jack this costume:
Maybe...
p.s. Now that I'm feeling a little better, I hope to start writing on a regular basis again. Thanks for reading!
I have not written in some time because I have been uncertain what to say. Sometimes it is hard for me to process my own feelings. I find that what I want to feel is often different from how I am feeling. Therefore I fight my feelings, trying to convince myself that I am not feeling what I am feeling and am in fact feeling something else.
Make sense? No? Let me try to be clearer with some specifics.
Many years ago I dealt with and healed from a pretty severe case of depression. The healing happened after a significant amount of time on anti-depressants, in prayer, and in counseling. I have considered myself free of depression for four years and I do not want to go back.
Going into motherhood, I knew my risk for postpartum depression and meant to go for help if I felt depressed. But the time after Jack was born was so different from what I expected that I could not discern my own feelings. Looking back I think I may have been dealing with some depression in the first couple of months following Jack’s birth. I wonder what would have happened if I had sought help… who knows. I can’t change that. What I can chance is what is happening now.
I have so much not wanted to be depressed that I think it has made me more depressed to now admit I am again dealing with depression. (I’m really into confusing sentences today – perhaps it reflects my state of mind!)
This depression is very different from my experience so many years ago. I don’t hate myself like I did then. I’m not crying every day and night. I’m not suicidal... But I am tired. I have little motivation to get things done and often the things I do try to do become overwhelming very quickly (and they are simple things, like the laundry or filling out a form). I am also quick to snap at Jack or Tim.
It is hard admitting this. I feel ashamed as though it's my fault that I'm "back here" again.
Have no fear, I am seeking help. I am facing issues that have brought me here. I am exercising regularly (which studies have shown is as effective as an anti-depressant – crazy huh?) and getting out of the house(anybody remember that creepy short storm/film “The Yellow Wallpaper”? yeah, we don't want that). I am socializing with others – and not just online.
Most importantly I am expressing my feelings and I am bringing them to God. So often I subconsciously hide these negative things from the Lord because we’re supposed to be joyful, right? The other day at VVV (I mentioned it before, remember?) Nancy began with a simple prayer bringing our hurts, our depression, our pain before the Lord. It reminded me that it is ok. I am ok. God embraces me here and desires this vulnerability with him.
What a relief.
Sixpence None the Richer’s song Brighten My Heart has been my prayer the last week. It reflects my life right now and my desire to open my heart to the Lord who is the only true source of hope and joy in this world. I hope it ministers to you too.
The responses to my last post made me think a lot about what I experienced nine or ten months ago. The truth is I actually wrote the majority of that post last March or April. I wrote it when I was much closer to the drama than I am now. I wrote it when I was struggling to reconnect with God after feeling so far away from him for so long.
But your comments about hormones and depression made me start to wonder. What was going on with me emotionally? I know one thing, I regret that I could not enjoy Jack during those first months of his life. I blame it all on the troubles we had with breastfeeding - which was huge, I've only mentioned it a gazillion times on here - and I feel like I need to mourn the loss of what I felt the first weeks should I have been like. But am I really any different from the average mom postpartum?
Does anyone know the difference between hormonal baby blues and all out postpartum depression? It seems most moms I know struggle the first couple of months or more, but only 10% are diagnosed as depressed (or so I've read). Does anyone know why?
I have another post in the works on "survival mode" and I would love to hear what your experiences were like those first few weeks or months of your baby's (or babies') life. Did you enjoy your baby? Did you just "get by"? What went on with you?
I don't remember if I've mentioned this here, but I have had a pretty negative attitude in the last few months. I guess I said I was depressed due to sleep depravation. Well, the sleep depravation hasn't totally gone away and neither has the depression. I'm not clinically depressed. But I am generally down.
I just read an article on the effects of sleep on our emotions. Did you know that when you're sleep deprived your brain isn't able to process your emotions? An important part of sleep and specifically REM sleep is your brain's work to process emotions from your experiences. I think at one time I knew this, but this explains my general bah-humbug attitude towards life lately. It also explains why Jack is such a happy baby. If I slept 15 hours a day I would be happy too!
Also associated with this is my lack of exercise. I read somewhere else that taking three brisk 30 minute walks a week should help pick up one's spirits. And I'm sure diet has a part to do with all of this as well.
I think it's time for me to say enough is enough and to take control of my emotions by doing something about my physical habits.
I will go to bed at 10:00pm. Seinfeld is not important. It will always be around and I do not need to watch the reruns on Fox every night.
I will go on walks each morning... ok, we'll start with every other morning. I always feel better after a walk, it just takes some willpower to get going. I can do it!
I will eat an apple a day - or at least increase my fruit and vegetable intake. Increased fiber is supposed to make you eat less and as I'm still trying to loose that baby fat I can use a little less unhealthy food and more fiber! (Not to mention the added benefit of speeding things up in the digestive track. Holy cow! Has everything dried up down there? No one told me that when I got pregnant)
So there they are. My mid-year resolutions. Will you hold me accountable?
It has begun. On Monday night Tim and I started "Ferberizing" Jack. I have been mostly against this form of sleep training because it seems so cruel, but I feel it has to be done. Not only am I once again dependent on caffeine, but I'm also depressed. There, I said it. In the past when I've had trouble sleeping I ended up depressed. Before Jack was born I was concerned this would happen and unfortunately it has. I can finally admit it without feeling ashamed. That's just how my body works. But I don't have to sit in it, I can do something about it. The first thing to do is get more sleep and in order to that - we have to let Jack cry a little.
We've only done it three nights. Last night was a miracle. I must have caught Jack at just the right time, because he didn't cry at all. When he woke up at 11:40 I fed him (based on the advice from Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child), but I don't think I really needed to. He then slept from 12:00-7:40. It was amazing! I don't know the last time I slept more than 7 hours in a row.
Tonight is a different story. I just got done listening to fifteen minutes of wailing. Cries that cause a physical reaction in my body. My heart feels like it's been torn out, thrown on the ground, and broken into a bazillion pieces. Someone has punched me in the stomach causing my knees to go weak and my shoulders will not relax. I'm gonna need an awesome massage after this. I keep expecting Child Protective Services to show up. I don't think our Mexican neighbors would let their babies cry like that. They haven't as far as I can tell.
I honestly don't know how Ferber came up with this method. What mom in her right mind would voluntarily let her baby cry? I mean, I'm doing it, but it goes against every instinct in my body (and I'm not sure I am in my right mind). I'll be really thankful when this is over and we can all get some sleep - not just Tim (just kidding babe... sort of). For now I am coping with my good friends Ben, Jerry and their Chubby Hubby.
While I see myself as an intellectual, independent woman, I find that I spend most of my day attached to a baby boy named Jack and I struggle in knowing how to care for him day to day.
Maybe...
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