Month: October 2016

When Specific Dates Are Excessively Triggering

On By spaige08In anxiety, depression, hospitalization, postpartum1 Comment

I’ve been a Depression sufferer for most of my life. Because of this, I tend to live in the past.  At the moment I am coming up on certain months in my life that cause me guilt, anxiety, regret, and deep sadness… 

October 26th (2014): The day Tyler moved into our house

October 31st (2015): The day I left my new job early to rush my little boy to the Pediatrician because he wouldn’t eat or drink.

November 12th (2014): The day Tyler got kicked out of the first daycare because he wouldn’t follow their schedule. 
November 16th (2006): The day I admitted myself into the hospital for Severe Postpartum Depression and Anxiety 
December 5th (2014): The day at work where I had my cell in one hand talking to Birth to 3 about Tyler and my work phone in the other talking to the nurse at Sophia’s school about an anxiety outburst. 
December 30th (2014): The day I went to the ER for a severe panic attack. 
December 31st  (2014): The day I moved out of my house to my parents waiting on Tyler to be removed from our house.  The day my psychotic break started.  The day I didn’t want to leave work early to go home.  The day the delusions took over. 
January 2nd (2015): The day Tyler left us. 
January 3rd (2015): The first day I started to die inside. 
January 14th (2015): The day I went to the Behavioral Crisis Center at the hospital and spent the night there. 
January 15th (2015): The day I knew I could not be left alone by myself.  The day I went back to the Behavioral Crisis Center.  The day I laid on the bed there and tried really hard to come up with a way to removed a screw from a table and jam it in my head.  The day I admitted myself again to short term psych. 
I try hard every year to look at how far I’ve come, but these dates and the images associated with them instantly pop into my head if I don’t keep my brain busy.  It’s amazing how quickly I can forget the good.  How images of my daughter’s euphoric birth are pushed aside with memories of the postpartum months that followed.  I sit with them, the hurt, the pain, the shear agony, ignoring the good.  Each year it does get slightly better.  EMDR therapy has made a world of difference in how I process these memories.  
Then the dates quickly approach.
Somehow, even with all my effort to push away these negative moments, there is always a moment where I find myself sitting with the anger and the frustration, and of course the guilt, and it seems nearly impossible to focus on the good.  So many happy memories.  
… An intensely cute little cherub of a boy, a dimple in one cheek… instead my focus goes directly to how in the end he was a huge trigger for my Anxiety and Depression. 
… Hearing him speak, seeing him learn how to eat solid food, seeing him discover how to love and loving him back…  to the point it hurt so much to let him go.  To the point I put my Mental Health aside again to try to save my family of four.  To the point I almost sacrificed my life as I admitted defeat, as I raised my white flag and surrendered to my Anxiety and Depression… 
The struggle is in how long I let the negative memories sit with me.  How long to let them dwell in my house, eat my food, drink some tea.  The longer they sit with me, the more deeply rooted they become, and the harder the struggle to pull myself out of them.  I am still working on this step.  Still having issues letting the guilt I have for myself over these events go completely.  After decades of dealing with Depression, I am learning how to live with it, instead of fighting to remove it from my body, mind and soul.  That latter battle is pointless.  It will never fully leave.  I am learning to control it, instead of it controlling me.  
As each of these dates approach, I will let in all the emotions and memories and will work my hardest at not letting the negative ones become permanent house guests.

What I Want My Daughter To Know On Her 10th Birthday 

On By spaige08In parentingLeave a comment

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My Baby Girl,

Today you turn 10, a decade old.  As I look at you, I see the baby face that I gave birth to and admire the preteen beauty you are now.  I am not sure when it actually happened, when you got to this point that toys were no longer an “in” thing for you, that make-up tutorials and Minecraft tutorials were now cool.  I am not sure when you decided to stop playing with My Little Pony, Barbie, and American Girl Dolls.  Ten years, they just flew by.  As I reflect on these stages of infancy and young childhood that I will never experience with you again, I want you to know a few things and keep them in your mind as you get older:
Stay Kind – Kindness is everything.  You really do need to treat people how you would like to be treated.  As you make fun of someone for the outfit they are wearing (and you will), remember that they are owning their style just like you own yours.  Remember they are human too and no one deserves to be made fun of.  Being kind opens up doors to future opportunities.  No one wants to hire a rude person.
Be Your Unique Self – You will fall into peer pressure.  I have not noticed anyone who hasn’t at one point in time.  Please remember that you are the only you there will ever be.  Exploit that.  Show your style and your personality.  Your friends like you because of who you are.  If they are asking you to change or to do something you don’t want to do and threaten your friendship because of it, then they were never your friends to begin with.  
Hold On To Your Imagination – Tether this one to your heart.  As we age and become adults, our imaginations tend to dwindle.  When I was younger, I was an avid story and poetry writer.  Then adulthood kicked in… work, bills, getting married, having a child… I lost a piece of me.  I lost my imagination.  It took falling into a black abyss of depression and anxiety to get that back and at this age, it isn’t nearly as strong as it was.  Crazy glue your creativeness to yourself.  Don’t ever lose that.  It is what makes life interesting.
Keep Dreaming – Always aim to achieve your dreams and goals.  It may not be a quick process but never decide to let go.  You have seen me achieve my dream of becoming a published writer with being a contributor to two published collections.  You see me currently writing my own book… a book that has been in the process for years but I am not giving up.  Do not let others tell you to quit dreaming.  They are not living within you.  You are capable of anything you put your mind to.
Challenge Yourself – Do not take the easy way out on everything you do.  Strive to be as good as you can be.  Try to read those novels in high school and bypass the Cliff Notes, you will be surprised at all that is in the actual novel.  You do not need to strive to be valedictorian, just try to be the best YOU can be.  Challenge yourself by drawing more, writing more, reading just one more page.  You won’t regret it.
Loyalty Is A Blessing And A Curse – Always try to remain loyal to your friends and family, the ones that have your back, the ones that love you “to infinity and beyond”.  Loyalty is a tremendous gift but, it can backfire on you.  Just be aware.  You may put out way more than you will receive in certain relationships. 

 
Remember Empathy – Empaths are rare.  To truly be empathetic to a person is to “walk in their shoes”.  Everyone is going through something.  It could be a physical illness such as cancer, a mental illness  such as depression, neglect, prejudice, etc.  No one, I mean, no one’s life is easy even if it seems like it.  I am glad that I passed on this gift of empathy to you.  Keep using it in all situations, but try hard to not let it stick with you for long periods of time.  Once you feel empathy for a person or a group of people, acknowledge it, digest it, and then do not dwell on it.  It can take over your mind and cause you depression and grief.

Not All Friendships Last – Friendships can end due to many reasons.  Sometimes you may have said or done something and sometimes a friend may have offended you.  Honestly, most friendships that end is just from the simple fact that friends can grow apart.  Schedules get busy. Common things get sparse.  It happens, and baby, it hurts.  There will be a grieving process to mourn the end of a friendship.  You’ll go through the stages of denial, disbelief, depression… and eventually, acceptance.  What’s important is to realize that they were in your life for a reason.  It may have been the extra shoulder you needed, or the ear you lent them.  Understand that although you feel like it ended because of you, it most likely didn’t. With these friendship deaths, there are strengths.  Friends you’ve had for years, decades, who are there for you. Friends you may not see or speak to often but when you do, it’s like you were never apart. Hold on to them.
Common Sense Is Just As Important As Book Smarts – Always aim to be the best student you can be but that is in two fields in life, school, and common sense.  Listen to your instincts.  Sometimes common sense matters more than what you may have learned in class.
Love Unconditionally – Always let love in.  It can be in the form of your father and I loving you, you loving your friends and them loving you back, finding your future spouse, love for your future children and love for a pet.  If you have every really processed movies, you will realize love conquers all and it does.  Love is what saved Harry from Voldemort.  Love is what let Anna and Elsa take back their kingdom.  Love is what brings Darth Vader back from the Dark Side to the Jedis.  Love is what makes us live and want to live.  There is always someone out there that loves you.
I know I have told you most of these things before, but I want you to understand all of them.  You are getting to a point in your life where you will not listen to me anymore (or at least for a few years).  You will think you know everything and Mommy and Daddy know nothing.  I have been there.  Your father has been there too.  But you know what?  After those years of being “above all” you will come to treasure everything your parents told you.  You will read this letter and know exactly where Mommy was coming from.  Please process these now and keep them with you.  Know that I see you, I see the strong, silly, sassy, smart girl you are.  I see your beauty, inside and out.  I can see what you are capable of.
You are a beautiful and unique young lady.  You are you.
Love, Mommy

Awaiting My Emotional Aftermath…

On By spaige08In anxiety, depressionLeave a comment

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I am sitting here nauseated.  Stomach churning.  Gurgling.  Body repulsed and mimicking regurgitating motions when thinking of eating my breakfast.  It is almost 11am and I have not eaten anything yet.  I have been up since 6:40.  I am anxious.  Anxiety has been building in me since this past weekend started.  There is so much to do and, frankly, not enough time.
On Thursday, I leave for Atlanta.  I am going for pleasure, not business this time.  I will be spending three days there interacting with a wonderful group of Warrior Moms at the 2nd Annual Warrior Mom Conference.  This is indeed a no judgment zone, more so than Planet Fitness.  All of us have empathy.  All of us can relate to each other in some way because all of us have suffered and survived a Postpartum Mental Illness.  I have enthusiastic anxiety.  I am elated to see all of these mothers I met last year and to meet so many more this year.  I can’t wait to learn more about what I can bring to my community.  And, of course, see a little bit of Atlanta while enjoying some Southern fare.
One minor problem that weighs heavily and what is causing my anxiety to grow… I decided to have my daughter’s birthday party the day after I get back, this Sunday.  I did this for numerous reasons.  Sunday is her actual birthday.  I also wanted to get this party stuff over and done with.  By doing this, I left the last minute party details in the hands of my husband, a guy who is wonderful, but has never helped me with planning any of our daughter’s parties.  Now in addition to my packing list, I have to create the “You Need To Do This On Saturday For The Party” list.
And, I am at work… getting overwhelmed with what I need to do here and the above mentioned.
I’m worried.  No, scratch that, I am fearful that I stretched myself too thin.  I am very worried that I’ll snap and like a stone released from a slingshot, be propelled backwards even deeper into that sinking hold of my Anxiety Disorder.  That quicksand, suffocating.  Drowning in the depths of my Frenimies… Anxiety and Depression.
And I did it anyway.  I created this.  I could have easily made my daughter’s party another weekend.  What the heck was I thinking?!  My flight home won’t arrive back at the airport until 11pm on Saturday.  I won’t get back to my  house until 12am, 1am on Sunday the 16th, my daughter’s 10th birthday.
And then there is that… the fact that my baby, my Only, is turning 10.  Double-digits.  I am extremely excited to celebrate this with her, but devastated that this is the beginning of the end of her young childhood.  From this point on she will get moodier, meaner, more secluded.  First with prepubescence and then with becoming a full-fledged teenager.  My sweet little girl will start to not want to be seen with me.  She’ll start to pull away from hugs and avoid kisses.  Yes, 10 starts my grieving process.  Grieving for the baby, toddler, and young child she isn’t anymore.
So many emotions going through me in this short period of time.  I will be fine, yes extremely anxious, but fine until I come back from the conference and get through her birthday.  Then all hell will break loose.  This has happened to me numerous times before.  I did take measures to try to relieve the affects of all these emotions, feelings and side effects from this Anxiety.  I decided to take Monday off of work too.  Crazy, I wasn’t going to do that originally.  I scheduled a massage and have therapy that day.  I am hoping to hike, weather permitting.  All things that help me cope, that relax me, rejuvenate me.
Now I wait… wait to see how bad my emotional aftermath will be.  Wait to see how dead tired and irritable I will be on Sunday as I entertain about 10 girls age 8-10 of course putting on a happy face and pleasant demeanor.  Wait to see when it all will hit me.
Going to try to force myself to eat breakfast now (at 11:30am)…

How Being Hospitalized Saved Me

On By spaige08In anxiety, depression, hospitalization, postpartum, stigma1 Comment

I grew up with the stigma that you never wanted to be known as crazy. Keep it quiet. Don’t ever speak about it. It can affect your grades, your career, your relationships. Hush-hush, on the down low. I obeyed these commands for fear that because I was a diagnosed depressed person, I would only be seen as crazy. I would be known as a woman who talks to herself or becomes violent because, well, that is how Mentally Ill people have always been portrayed in the media.

I’ll even admit, I fell victim to those views. I would thank God everyday that I was never hospitalized. I could live in silence with my depression and fane happiness by putting on a smile. Day in, day out, I plastered that smile on my face hiding the inner turmoil beneath. And then it happened, the day I feared the most, the day I had to be hospitalized.

At the time of my first hospitalization, I was deep into severe postpartum depression and anxiety. Honestly, I was extremely delusional and vaguely alive. My days were filled with multiple crying spells, several trips to the bathroom to vomit, not eating, not sleeping and spewing forth lies I believed that I didn’t love my daughter and my husband and her would be far better off without me. The week before entering the hospital, I was at my new psychiatrist three times and my new therapist twice. Five of those seven days I saw someone to help me and yet I was getting worse.

The final decision to go to the hospital was based solely on the fact that I thought I was extremely malnourished.

My mother brought me to the ER. I spent the next hour pacing the room or rocking back and forth in one of the waiting area chairs all while shaking uncontrollably and hyperventilating. My mother was extremely worried about me, beyond your typical Jewish mother worrying. She feared that my life was in danger. No parent ever wants to get to that point. Her fear never crossed my mind once as my only concern was my malnourishment.

I wasn’t deemed an emergency because I was not suicidal or having thoughts of harming myself or my child. I did, however, have extreme thoughts of running away, of removing myself from this situation, this situation where I didn’t love my daughter and wanted nothing to do with her. When I was brought back into a triage room and questioned by a physician’s assistant I explained quickly that I was one month postpartum and then angled in on my not eating/vomiting for a couple of weeks situation. The only doctor that was brought in to see me… a psychiatrist. This is where I was officially diagnosed with severe postpartum depression and anxiety. Her next question to me was:

“Are you willing to admit yourself to the short term psych ward?”

That is when I started to shake again. Tears rapidly fell down my cheeks. Psych ward? But that is for crazy people! Me? Crazy? Quick visions of strait jackets and padded rooms came into view. Fear that I would be drugged and left for eternity entered. I would never see anybody again. But this is what you wanted Stephanie, you wanted to run away and eradicate yourself from this world. Then I looked at my mother and my husband and said, “Yes.”

My initial day is a blur. I was so out of it, physically drained from all the crying, vomiting and shaking. I think I attempted to sleep through most of it. Of course, I was drugged, but at this point didn’t care. I didn’t care about my well being at all anymore. I could’ve wasted away to nothing and I would’ve been cool with that.

But, on day 2, I was pulled from my bed and brought to group therapy with the threat that I would have to go home if I didn’t ‘participate’. Therapy brought on stories from others who were ‘obviously’ more sick than I was, at least that is what I thought. I heard their struggles and their successes. I was given food and although it was very hard in the beginning, I started to eat and guess what? I didn’t throw any of it up. I was given coping tools in art therapy by drawing, crafting and journaling. I was becoming more human. Within days, I anticipated visiting hours when my baby girl would come to see me and I held her the whole time.

Being hospitalized saved my life. If I didn’t admit myself, I am not sure where my delusional thoughts would’ve taken me. The hospital gave me the ‘Me’ time I so desperately needed. It gave me a break from my responsibilities to others and forced me to take care of myself first. It gave me medication that got me stable (although apathetic). I felt safe there, safe from myself.

I felt so safe there that when, 8 years later, I needed help badly, I knew I needed to be hospitalized and begged for it. Once again I was riddled with extreme anxiety that had me nauseas from sunrise to sunset. I had lost lots of weight and was grieving the loss of my foster son back to DCF. This time, I was worried about myself. This time I had thoughts of hurting myself. This time I cared about getting better. I, not ashamed, admitted myself to the same short term psych unit I was in all those years ago. I did it because it saved me then, and I knew, it would save me now.

*****

Being hospitalized wasn’t perfect. The psychiatrists were basically non-existent during my visits, the first that lasted 12 days, the 2nd lasting 5 days. Both stays contained weekends and holidays, days that, well, doctors didn’t work. I mean who wants to work on a weekend or holiday?! It’s like us patients could put our issues on hold until they came back. The life saving measures I found in the hospital were through myself being able to focus on me, medication, their slipper socks (still feel safe in them), and its therapists and nurses. They were nice and didn’t treat us as a threat to society. We were respected. We were people.

I don’t hide the fact that I have been hospitalized. It is not a hush-hush situation for me anymore. People need to know what it is really like. People need to know that anyone around you, your parent, your coworker, a friend, could be battling a Mental Illness and may be or have been hospitalized. People need to know that One Over The Cuckoo’s Nest is not typical.