Sometimes I Love the Internet

Seriously, sometimes the Internet is awesome! (Sometimes it's like a heroin addiction, but that's another topic for another day).

So I posted and was all "Woe is me," which I do because it helps me process and let go of my own negative feelings. But I also share the bad stuff because I get e-mail messages from strangers, Facebook messages from friends and comments from readers all saying the same thing "I feel the same way, I'm thinking about getting help, thank you for sharing your story." More than hearing myself talk I like knowing that my words are reaching people and teaching them or supporting them, it's a pretty sweet deal.

Ahywho, so Melissa commented on my blog and was like "Sounds like Herx" it never in a million years would have occurred to me that the emotional symptoms could be caused by a system wide reaction like that. I love that sometimes I help people because of the interwebs and sometimes people help me. I also know that 21 days isn't always successful in treating Lyme so I'm watching out, and being careful, but if I have to go back on doxy I'd rather do it in the fall so I'm content to drag my feet for now. I digress, so I was feeling down and then the next morning I woke up and felt fine. Like totally, completely, I need to clean my house, and wear make up, and exercise, because I've really let it all go, fine! My friends have good things going on and I'm content in my own life so I can genuinely be all squee for them. Cancer still sucks a big one, but I haven't gone to Hogwarts, I'm just detoxing so I can't make that one go away.

My dining room table is still a mess right now, but that's because we just finished dinner homemade pizza, not frozen- another indicator that I have successfully removed my head from my ass. But as it turns out my head wasn't where I thought it was, I was detoxing. Epsom salt bath, twisting yoga poses, drink lots of water, here I come!!

All of a sudden I'm the pinnacle of productive living and sanity and my husband is lazy and coo-coo for cocoa puffs by comparison. It's not his fault, he's empathetic, I may have dragged him down a bit, but I can also lift him up. I'm cool like that.

The Worst Part

The worst part (for me) about being depressed is how it spreads into other areas of my life. Like weeds that you can't evict from your garden. They don't just stay where they are and choke out the positive and beautiful plants in one little area, they spread. They ruin the aesthetic everywhere.

I was pretty much not taking Zoloft while I was taking doxycycline.

The list of things you can't take when you're taking a Cipro drug is so long it's completely overwhelming. I was scared to take anything that would interact so I decided to taking nothing but the doxy. After basically 3 weeks without Zoloft I was feeling okay, a little low on the motivation-o-meter but otherwise a-okay. Now, nearly two weeks after finishing doxy my motivation level is so low it's hard to leave the couch. I can put on a good show for peeps and I'm not so far gone I don't love doing things with the family, obviously, but over all my inner monologue is pretty dark.

I have a hard time psyching myself up for even the most basic of tasks (like eating a real meal). I'm frustrated that I seem to need Zoloft, or at least that I'm not my normal self while not on a mood stabilizer. I'm frustrated that my dining room table is a wreck. I'm not sure if I'm depressed, or just lethargic (at least I'm not anxious). I don't really know what's going on, but it's like a weed, it's creeping in to everything.

My judgment is impaired. I'm not acting normally to even the simplest things. Example: I want to see the Harry Potter movie so bad I can taste it. I'm depressed that I haven't seen it yet. (Pathetic? Die-hard-fan?) It's just a movie.... I have the ability to get a sitter and go see the movie but I'm scared to call her. Why? Rejection? I'm paying her, not asking her out... I keep hearing friends good news, like really good news, and although I'm not so dark to be purely jealous, I'm happy first and jealous second. Why? Can't I just celebrate someone else's good news. (If you're reading this wondering if I've been dark and twisted about your good news, yes. Whether I know you IRL or just through the blogsphere, yes.)

I also keep hearing bad news. Cancer stuff (the running count is 3 wonderful people with a shitty shitty disease) and bad luck generally crappy things happening to good people. I don't deal well with bad news. I don't deal well at all with bad news. I basically shut down and pretend bad news isn't happening. So I obsess negatively about good news and ignore (or more like internally fester) bad news. I might not spend much time actively worrying about or being depressed over the sad things happening to good people but I'm not so naive to think its not sticking around. Bothering me. Weeds.

I mean it doesn't make sense, I feel totally emotionally all over the map, and yet things are not so bad I'm thinking about trying to stay off the Zoloft. I want to "make it on my own" as it were. But I'd like to function like a normal person again. I'd like to clean my dining room table and weed my metaphorical (and literal) garden. But its hard. It's especially hard because I have no trust in doctors (shrinks included).

Lost in the woods.
What to do? Oh, what to do....

Weaning

I'm weaning Henry right now.

I'm excited to have my body back to myself but I'm sad to loose our special time that we get from nursing. I will say the least exciting part about weaning is the hormone changes! Dealing with postpartum anxiety has been less than fun (although in the scope of postpartum concerns I'm very thankful that my challenges have been mild). Weaning brings it all back in full force.

I've always been sensitive to hormone changes. I've never been able to use hormone birth conrol without psychological/emotional changes. It feels almost familiar to me to be a slave to my ever shifting hormone levels. Is it over yet?

It was a moment

I was laying in the hospital bed after the c-section that delivered my older son. From the time I was lucid enough to notice the world around me it appeared the world had changed. The nurses seemed to be talking to themselves, not to me. I thought my husband was looking at me like I could at any moment evaporate into nothing. I expected to perceive the world differently (now that I was a mommy) I figured it would be all hugs and puppies; this was not the 'different' that I had expected. I was not prepared for the tricks my mind would play on me.

I saw shadows move across the wall and scoot across the ceiling. I saw the baby get out of the bassinet and crawl across the floor. I heard people talking to me but there was no one there. I heard the baby crying, but he was fast asleep. This went on for days, maybe even the first few weeks.

It hurt so much even to adjust my position in bed. I usually needed help. When I say I went to use the bathroom as a means of escape I want you to understand the desperation. I cried in my windowless, sterile, gray hospital bathroom. I cried for my c-section. I mourned my former care-free life. I cried because there was no window for me to climb out of so I could run away. I just wanted so desperately to escape. Like fight or flight, I didn't have any fight in me I just wanted to take flight. To think I could have hoisted myself out a window is laughable, but I was convinced that had the opportunity presented itself I would have tried.

I was dozing in my hospital bed. My mother and my husband were taking turns with sweet Jack so I could sleep. My mother said to my husband "You should watch out for postpartum depression." I wanted to yell "SHUT UP!! I'M FINE!!" Part of me had enough sense to realize she was probably (definitely) right.


Why tell this story? Why bring it up?

Because I should have gotten help. I figured I was tired, and the hospital was just messing with me. I decided I'd be better at home, and I was right- home was better. But I wasn't suddenly whistling Dixie.

I should have taken these feelings more seriously. I figured postpartum depression was wanting to hurt the baby, or feeling detached from the baby or wanting to hurt myself. I felt angry, angry about the c-section. But that wasn't the whole story and I was totally unwilling to admit it. I don't know what my experience was because I never got help. It might have been PPA, PPD or PPP. What it was doesn't really matter though, it was horrible and totally unnecessary.

I tell this story as a means of releasing it, because I don't feel this way not even a little bit. It was a moment in time. I could have done more and learned more but my moment is over I've grown away from that sad, scared new mommy. Someone else might be crying in a bathroom somewhere and they shouldn't have to.

If I'm being completely honest

Things are not going so hot right now.

I'm really overwhelmed by the state of my life, I feel like there's too much to do and not enough time to do it in. Jack's birthday party is this weekend and I feel totally unprepared for it. My goodie bag count has been wrong twice now and I'm going to have to go to the store again. I don't know what I'm doing for his cake. My house is a complete wreck, there's stuff EVERYWHERE in all the wrong rooms in all the wrong places and I don't have time to clean it with the kids running around messing it up all the time.

Henry hasn't had a good nap in 7 days. He'll sleep for 20 minutes to 1 hour and THAT'S IT. FOR THE WHOLE DAY. The rest of the day he's so cranky (probably because he's sleep deprived that I have to hold him. He weighs 24 pounds! I don't want to hold him all day. You'd think he'd be so damn exhausted from not sleeping that he'd sleep through the night, but no. He'll gladly be awake from 3-4am (like last night).

I'm so stressed out I didn't go to yoga yesterday because I didn't want my bad energy to mess up everyone else there. I need a vacation from my life, but when I look on the calendar it appears that I can't hope for one anytime soon.

Oh, yeah, and yesterday? Henry bit my boob so hard there's a one inch long cut (with blood and everything) from him. Awesome.

I will now attempt to put Henry down for a nap (again). Wish us luck!

Well, Consider My Mind Blown

If you've met me or read my blog for a bit you probably know- I'm so type A. I will try to control the weather if left to my own devices. Seriously, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be the first one to do it. For those of you who are not type A or who don't get it let me give you some insight: my mind is constantly filled with chatter. I'm always making a list, planning a project, reflecting on something I've done or beating myself up for something I should have done better.

It's not good, my friends.

I've dealt with postpartum anxiety this go-round and what may or may not have been postpartum depression on the last go-round. But I digress. Basically, my mind is not quiet and I'm a bit twitchy. M'kay, so where am I going? I have been changed (I am being changed, I will be changed).

How?

Meditation.

I know what you're thinking. I don't have time for that! Seriously, when my yoga instructors were talking about meditation my head was nodding but my brain was thinking "I don't have time for this." They didn't give much instruction before we started. They just said this:

• if you're uncomfortable at any point make tiny adjustments because you don't want to sit in discomfort,


• try to be present and quiet the mind- it's going to wander and that's okay but you can just gently bring it back,


• anyone who manages to sit still on a cushion for 10 minutes experiences a success.

These things seemed easy enough. So with an open (and chattery) mind we begin. Sitting with my legs crossed and my eyes closed. The most beautiful thing happens, in the studio next door there is a yoga class for 2-4 year olds going on. They're singing about liking blueberries and twinkle twinkle and laughing and playing. And I sat. And I listened. Occasionally I'd start to wander through my own thoughts but then I'd come back, reminding myself just to listen to the kids and relax and breathe. I could feel something happening, I don't know how 'transcendent' the something was but then the instructor rang the little gong and 10 minutes was up.


Ten minutes of stillness and silence has never ever ever passed so fast in my whole life! When I slowly opened my eyes I felt really calm and relaxed. We're supposed to find 10 minutes every day, and despite my initial thoughts that this is so not going to work for me I'm really excited to continue!

Did you know meditation reduces cortisol (a stress hormone) levels in the brain.

I'm totally sold!
And here's Henry, saying hello- for those of you who prefer to see pics of the bebes.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Feeling twitchy?

Not me. Not so much anymore.

I wrote about what I supposed is diagnosed as Postpartum Anxiety. But really, giving it a name doesn't mean much to me, finding a solution- well that's money in the bank. So I'm about 4 weeks into Zoloft and I'm loving the changes.

Every winter of my adult life I've needed to use my asthma inhaler daily. Since starting Zoloft I've used it once. I cannot tell you how amazing that is to me.

Every time I was running late, or even on time but could be running late I would panic. Totally freak out, sometimes burst into tears and always drive like speed racer. The other day I met a friend at Ikea, I was 12 minutes late and I didn't really care. I mean I kinda was worried she'd be waiting for me (I still want to be considerate) but I just figured she'd assume I was running late and she'd understand. Frankly that logical thought process was something I had been without for YEARS and to be able to be on time or late to something without it being a disaster is pretty freakin awesome.

At the end of every day I used to replay all my failings as a parent that day. The time I yelled too much. The time I didn't interact enough. The time I didn't want to get up and crawl around under the table. Each excruciating moment I chose to be what I considered "a crappy parent" I forced myself to relive and feel the guilt. Whether I'm a "less crappy" parent or I perceive myself to be less crappy or I'm finally willing to give myself a break in the parenting department who knows. But all of that the guilt the feelings of falling short it's basically gone. I don't think I'm perfect or anything, I'm just less concerned about trying to be perfect and more focused on doing what I can as each moment requires.

I'm also less frustrated by other people; bad drivers don't get under my skin anymore. I'm not up in arms about things people say in real life, on the interwebs, on the news. People used to talk about letting things roll off their backs and, to be honest, I wanted to punch them in the face because I had no idea how anyone under any circumstances could just let something roll off their back. Now? I actually understand what they mean.

Each little change isn't earth shattering, but all the little changes together amount to a very happy Mommy. I'm sure the boys are grateful I decided to accept help.