My son was about 3 months old. And I had a 2-year-old too. I felt like every time I turned around I was snapping at my husband for absolutely no reason what-so-ever. He breathed wrong and I chewed his head off. He kissed me on the cheek and I'd be mad that he picked the left one instead of the right one. Or that he interrupted me trying to get the dishes washed.
So NOT the reaction a normal person would have. All day I would have mind battles trying to figure out how what was going on in my brain was so far from what was happening in reality.
Then one morning I woke up with a very bad thought: my family would be much better off without me in the world.
Hold on, sister! That is not good!
I ran down the steps and caught my husband before he went out the door to work. I need help! I think I'm dealing with postpartum depression.
That night I took my first pill... and I hated having to admit that I was not in control of my brain. I felt like I was a failure and a cop out. Being a parent is hard - and parenting a newborn along with a toddler was exhausting. I never had any issues with anyone else needing medication to survive, but not me! No way.
Was I weak? Was I a mental case?
No. I was a normal human being who needed help.
When the medication kicked in and I could see clearly again, I was amazed at how long I took to realize I had a problem.
But, postpartum depression is temporary, and I didn't want to have to be medicated longer than necessary. I weaned off my medicine of choice after about 9 months... and thought everything was normal.
Until about a year later, when some of the same visions, thoughts, and reactions were coming back. But, I'll write about that another time.
If you think you need help, you probably do. And you owe it to yourself to get it.
02 November 2007
I knew I needed help when...
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2 comments:
Good for you. I'll never understand why mental health issues and meds make people so skittish. I've been taking anti-depressants for 17 years now and I thank God for them daily.
Candid, honest and well put. Bravo for recognizing it before it was too late. I may have to go back on them myself. I've had to return to taking them more than once in the past decade or so. I have a mix of anxiety, depression and A.D.D., and it seems to be a constant struggle just to keep a regular schedule going and know where I put my keys from one moment to the next. The A.D.D. makes the anxiety worse, and vice versa. So, not a good combination.
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