Into the Darkness

Editor’s Note:

You may notice that things look a bit different around here in these parts.

Screen Shot 2015-11-02 at 9.26.58 AMDo you see that new category up there, all bright and shiny (and real and raw)?

That, my friends, is our new space, Together, Ever After.

Each Monday, I will be featuring someone else’s story–your story–our story.

So, as I have said before, send me your stories, or just enjoy reading the stories of the brave souls who have sent their tales to me, as they are now my story as well.

I want to make the following disclaimer: These stories are about the real side of mental health issues, and that means that sometimes they get dark. If you are someone who is triggered by talk of mood disorders or suicidal ideations, I implore you to stop reading now. I am not a medical professional. I cannot provide any medical advice. If you are feeling like you are a danger to yourself or others, call 911 or seek help at your nearest Emergency Room. 

Just know that YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Together, Ever After: Michelle’s Story

“This is the first time I’m sharing my story. I kept my struggle with depression very private because I was deeply ashamed of it.”

It began after the birth of my second child. Things felt really overwhelming, trying to juggle him and his 2 1/2 year old brother. I cried pretty often, with my older son always trying to reassure me that it would be OK. That then added extreme guilt that I was unable to control my emotions in front of my children and that I was probably scaring them. My husband, although an EXTREMELY supportive partner in every aspect of parenthood, just didn’t seem to have the right words to pull me out of my mood. So I began to accept it as my new ‘normal’. I figured all moms must feel this way.

Then I got pregnant with my third – another boy- when my middle son was just 9 months old. The pregnancy was a surprise and although we were excited, I knew things were only going to get even more overwhelming. But despite that I smiled and laughed and continued to put up a facade in front of my friends and family.
The pregnancy had some challenges and birth were not without challenges either. It was getting worse.

Right after I delivered my son, while still in the hospital, I filled out the form that evaluates your mental state of mind, and my responses alerted a social worker to come and speak with me. I so was afraid that my baby would be taken away, with the mental health professional thinking, “oh she’s crazy or she’s an unfit mother or she can’t raise this child…” and so I sugar coated my feelings and pretended that I was fine. I wanted help but I didn’t know what consequences that would bring; what they could bring.

I had to have an additional surgery postpartum, and the physical recovery from that went fairly smoothly, but emotionally and mentally I was feeling worse and worse. I cried several times a day.

I had intense feelings of wanting to die–to leave this life that I felt trapped in. I couldn’t seem to get anything done (to the high and arguably unrealistic standards I held myself to) and felt like a complete failure. Yet I loved my children so much – and the conflicting feelings only confused me more. I felt guilty that I didn’t enjoy being a mother. And resentful that I could no longer seem to control my thoughts or emotions. Despite a family history of mental illness, I myself had never been depressed and it wasn’t making sense to me. The mental anguish was so intense and constant, it felt like a physical weight on my heart and soul; the only way I can describe it is that I just wanted to die so that all of the horrible thoughts would STOP. My husband, not really aware of how long I’d been feeling this way, saw that I was unhappy and, thinking it could be a hormonal issue, he asked me to call my doctor.

Finally, I called my ob/gyn to tell her I wasn’t feeling well. Again, out of shame I glossed over my symptoms. She prescribed a birth control pill in an effort to help balance my hormones. It caused me to bleed nonstop and so I stopped taking it two weeks later.

My bleak thoughts continued as I spiraled into the darkness. I began to fantasize even more about dying. I would stare into the medicine cabinet, wondering what I could take to ease the pain. When driving I would imagine myself steering off the road and crashing into a tree. I thought about packing a bag and just leaving, but I had no idea where to go. I would sometimes have flashes and visions of cutting myself with a knife and so I tried to avoid using them. I had absolutely no thoughts about harming my children, but I became concerned about what I might do to myself in their presence.

I didn’t share any of this with friends or family and just simply hid it all from them. I just kept thinking someday it would go away on its own and I’d feel better, so why involve anyone else. And I was worried they would think I was being dramatic or something.

But none of it was going away. Three months later, my husband and I went out for the night while my mom watched our boys. I had a breakdown in the car and spent two hours sobbing to him about how I was feeling. He assured me that this was not meant to be my ‘normal’ and that I needed to get help. The next day I called my ob/gyn’s office again. My doctor happened to be standing next to the receptionist at that moment, and took my call. I don’t know what would have happened had I not reached her that day, but she immediately put me in touch with a postpartum stress center and I began seeing a therapist there. After several months of therapy I began feeling much better, though the dark thoughts were still nagging at times. Having first rejected the idea of going on an antidepressant, I ultimately decided to try one and within just two or three days the dark thoughts completely stopped. I remember the first day that I went without having a single thought about death or dying, and thinking “I’m BACK.” Like running into a friend you’ve been out of touch with for a while. I just felt GOOD.

I am still on the medication and it has made a huge difference. I enjoy being a mom now, even on the rough days. I still have days where I get frustrated and exasperated and want to scream, but I never have the scary thoughts that I used to. I am living.

I am out of the darkness.

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