on anxiety and depression

ah. where to start?
this obligation to journal these feelings and my struggle to put them in to words is what kept me from blogging for so long. and such a taboo topic, right? I tried writing this so many times and couldn't decide how to approach this. it was noticed, seriously noticed, by jeremy and my family around me a few months after scarlett was born. but I think there were signs before her birth-- clear signs of anxiety and clear signs of depression, but also seriously denied. I constantly stressed-- not about normal, logical things. about bizarre, sad things.

post-partum depression. I had heard so much about it, I had taught so much about it with discharge education. and still, it seemed so foreign and easy to deny when it happened to me. I feel like when we talk about it, we either put it lightly-- baby blues, or-- we talk about how the mom is completely bat-sh** crazy (which there is some truth to that too. but nobody wants to be or admit that they are crazy...) I'm here to say that this is some in-between. the overwhelming new adventure that doesn't really feel at all fun. I wept daily, I yelled daily, and I especially felt so so guilty that we had worked so hard to finally be at a place where I could stay home with the girls-- a dream come true, and now I felt absolutely trapped. and selfish. and ungrateful. I was stuck between wanting and needing a break all the time and not asking for help, because this was suppose to be my dream!

I constantly felt like I couldn't take it anymore, and yet, I refused to give up. I refused to listen to anyone's questions of post-partum depression. jeremy, collette, emily. over and over, and there was no way to get through to me. my daily weepings became weekly meltdowns and my weekly meltdowns led to a night where I locked myself in a room with a bottle of pills trying to think of one good reason my family, or really, anyone in the world, needed me. jeremy got collette to come over and somehow she made everything seem a little better for the moment. they set up therapy sessions for me through lds family services and arranged for childcare as well, which was pretty crucial, because my kids were kinda my excuse out of anything.

geez, I was a hot mess when I showed up the next morning. I started crying at the front desk, and I completely lost it when my therapist opened with, "so tell me what's going on." (and "lost it" is an understatement, I couldn't breathe because I was crying so hard, and I just wanted to stop because I felt so ridiculous being so out of control in front of a stranger.) obviously, I didn't know where to begin. she helped me get the words out. and she had me set up goals for the week to hang on my fridge-- exercise at least 2x a week and shower daily. you can laugh if you want, but I honestly was not showering regularly at this point. she asked me about seeing me again next week, and she could see how I was hesitant to leave my girls, and she said something that will stay with me forever: "if you don't take the time away from them to heal, then you won't be there at all. your girls will completely lose their mother." and that was enough for me to promise one more week.

sessions led to breakthroughs and understanding that my high expectations of myself weren't exactly realistic. she helped me change the way I think, my all-or-nothing mentality. she would also ask me about my consideration of medication every session, and it made me crazy. ( because I was strong! and I didn't need medication!) this is where I finally understood why I needed to have a kidney stone a few months earlier. for some reason, I needed to be completely broken down to be able accept help from medication. I made an appointment with a new general practitioner, who started me on the lowest dose of celexa after I scored a 21 on the CESD-R.

it got worse before it got better. and then slowly, but surely, I started enjoying being a mother again. I started being able to laugh about the crazy, ridiculous things that my children did or said. I started feeling more like me again. I wish I could go back and tell myself that it's all going to be okay, that there's no point in being miserable if I can be happy, that I am still strong if I take medication to help with anxiety and depression. and my days aren't perfect-- I didn't magically become the best mom in the world who never makes mistakes, and my irrational thoughts and worrying didn't disappear. I am just better armed with tools to help me decide what is rational and what is not, to make mistakes with grace and try again tomorrow, to help me have more good days than bad.

why am I oversharing this very personal and very vulnerable part of me? I don't know, maybe you're crazy, you can take comfort in knowing that someone else is crazy too. and that it can get better.
I'm not even going to proofread this, I'm just going to be brave and post!
hopefully it makes some sense.
xo