It’s temporary

My PPD is temporary.  That’s what the 2 PPD survivors told me.  It is temporary and I will recover with the right medication and therapy.  At this juncture, I am willing to take any type of medication to make it go away.   I will take anything.   

I had a good session with my therapist yesterday.    I’m glad she is one smart cookie and up to speed on PPD. 

It is temporary and I will have me back.  It is temporary and I will have me back.   It is temporary and I will have me back.   It is temporary and I will have me back.   It is temporary and I have will have me back.   It is temporary and I will have me back.   It is temporary and I will have me back.   It is temporary and I will have me back.   It is temporary and I will have me back.   It is temporary and I will have me back.   It is temporary and I will have me back.   That is what I keep telling myself.  That is what all PPD survivors say.   I have to believe that their words are true because I have to.   

I will just stop looking in the mirror for a while.  I will stop looking at myself in the mirror.  

 

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A little unwell

I am not crazy; I’m just a little unwell so the song goes.  When I heard the lyrics again, I can’t believe how that song resonates with this period of my life. 

I am on Cymbalta now, apparently for severe depression.   I think it’s helping a little bit as I am able to get some sleep without the Klonopin.   I had a good talk last night with a PPD survivor who told me that everyone that she has talked to has recovered from it but everyone is different in how long it takes to recover.

It’s ironic as I look back at this journey that I am on.   My son’s pediatrician asked the social worker to call me because he thinks that I have post partum depression.  My therapist told me that I had post partum depression.  My friends told me I had post partum depression.  Everyone saw it except for me.  I refused to believe that there was something wrong with me because well, it’s difficult for me to accept.   I never had depression like this before.    I feel as if I have been knocked full speed by an incoming train.   The roller coaster I am on would fulfill every adrenaline junkie’s dreams.  I can’t believe that I have been on this train for 9 months…

I am beginning to despise my mirror.  Every morning I wake up to the awful bags under my eyes.   I don’t feel well and the mirror confirms it every morning.   My speech seems to be halted and slow.  I keep asking myself, when will I be me again?   When?   I want myself back.    I’m not sure how else to voice myself.   My esteem has gotten to the point where I no longer voice what I want or what I believe.  I assume that everyone else is correct.   This has really impacted my work and my ability to move ahead in a corporate environment.  Where did that girl go who led major product launches?   

If I ever get through this, I will write my book.  I will write my fictional book about a female who goes through post partum depression and the joys and pains of having a child.  

One day at a time.   Oh silver lining…where did you go?    Oh Pot of Gold, I wish I still believe.   Oh dreams, I miss believing.   Is this the new me?   If it is, I’d rather not be me anymore.   Maybe I just need to accept the new me and let go of the old me.   The me that felt like she could conquer the world.  The me that is able to work full time in a very competitive environment, take care of two babies, run a marathon, play all sports, and passions to save the world.  That me is gone.   I don’t know how to find her.  I don’t know how to bring her back home.   All I know is the current me.  The depressed insomniac.  The sad lonely girl that just wants to get a good nights sleep.  

My therapist would say “be kind to yourself and give yourself a hug”.   Perhaps that is what I need to do.   Be kind to myself and give myself a hug.   After all, everyone has their up and downs and no one is perfect.    

This song is about my life.  Thanks Matchbox 20. 

All day staring at the ceiling making
friends with shadows on my wall
All night hearing voices
telling me that I should get some sleep
because tomorrow might be good for something

hold on
feeling like I’m headed for a
break down
and i don’t know why

but I’m not crazy I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
but stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
a different side of me
I’m not crazy I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
but soon enough you’re gonna think of me
and how I used to be…..me

and talking to myself in public
and dodging glances on the train
and I know….I know they’ve all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
and it makes me feel like there must be something
wrong… with me

out of all the hours thinking
some how…. I’ve lost my mind

but I’m not crazy I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
but stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
a different side of me
I’m not crazy I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
but soon enough you’re gonna think of me
and how I used to be

I’ve been talking in my sleep
pretty soon they’ll come to get me
yeah there taking me away

I’m not crazy I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
but stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
a different side of me
I’m not crazy I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
but soon enough you’re gonna think of me
and how I used to be

hey how i used to be
how i used to be yeah
I’m just a little unwell

how i used to be
how i used to be
I’m just a little unwell

 

I miss me

I stare at the woman staring back at me through the mirror.  She has black hair and brown eyes.  The bags sag under her eyes with deeper wrinkles between her eyes.   What I mostly see is the hopelessness in her eyes and the weary frown upon her mouth.   Where did I go and what happened to me?    It’s been 9 months since my 2nd son was born and I can’t remember the last time I slept a solid straight 8 hours.  I don’t remember when I felt truly happy and emotionally stable.   The days and nights run into each other and I can’t seem to recall what day it is.   I struggle daily to keep an optimistic perspective that things will get better but I confess that the last week has been tough.   I don’t remember being so tired and depressed in my entire life.  I despise post partum depression and insomnia.  I despise you with a passion.

With my first son, it didn’t seem as awful or perhaps my mind had decided to block and forget it.   When he was 5 months old and sleeping 12 hours a night, I realized that I could not sleep.   My brain was exhausted and so I thought I would lie in bed and fall asleep like my previous champion sleeper days.   I never had insomnia issues before.   I went to my OB who prescribed Ambien, then Ambien CR, and then Lunesta.   I was so desperate that I took one of each before bedtime and I was only able to get 2 hours of sleep.   I combed the internet searching for help.   I tried to sleep in different rooms and having my mom watch son #1 at night.  None of it worked.   I was barely functionally.  Trying to drive to work was irresponsible.  I would see double lanes and didn’t know which was the right lane so I slowly crawled my way to work and home.   I am thankful that I had been in that position for numerous years and they were sympathetic towards my mediocre work.   I started to imagine and believe that the world would be a much better place without my existence.   My husband could find a wife easily to replace me and my son is so young, he would not remember me.   So I started to think of ways to end my life and that’s when I realized I really need help.   I was dropping a pound a day and my pants sagged around my waistline.  I wasn’t healthy mind, body or spirit.  I remember a World Vision worker called me around financial aid and asked if she could pray for me and yes, I asked.   I would have never done that before.  

I went and did a sleep study where they placed these electrodes around my body and to my chagrin, after reviewing the results, I slept better than all the other people in the study.   So it was pretty obvious that my sleep issues are anxiety related.  I saw a sleep therapist who gave me ideas around CBT and I couldn’t believe that it worked.   Two weeks of CBT and my magic switch was back.  I couldn’t believe it.   I was able to lie in bed tired and fall asleep and wake up 8 hours later.   I was so happy.  I started the happy path back to me and slept magically until I had my 2nd child.

With my 2nd son, I knew that I was going to have similar sleep issues but I didn’t realize the full extent of it until I am in the midst of it again.   He is now 9 months and I am still dealing with insomnia.  How I hate you, post partum depression and post partum insomnia.  How I hate you.    the prescription bottles line up next to my bedroom table.  I hate going to the pharmacy every month to renew my prescriptions.  I had to quit my job because I wasn’t able to have coherent thoughts or write complete sentences.  I couldn’t put numbers together correctly whereas before, I managed 5 regions, built yearly targets and able to work 10-12 hours a day and take care of my baby.   

I know that it’ll get better (it has to right?) but last night was tough.  I imagined that if my existence were to cease to exist, perhaps then my husband would remarry someone who would be a better companion and mother to his children.   After all, my 2nd son is so young, he won’t remember me and the older one, he will adjust.   I imagined that my parents will eventually forget me and my brother, while he would be sad for a while, he has his own family and will eventually be okay.   I hope they will visit my grave on a yearly basis and then I can sleep all the time!  I never have to wake up every again.  

On a good day, I know that those thoughts are incorrect and false.  It is the awful post partum depression and insomnia talking. 

I know that it’ll get better and until I do, I just need to take things one day at a time and be kind to myself.  After all, I didn’t do anything intentionally to harm myself except have children.  This is God telling me that I should not have any more children.  

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