Getting Real

I'm happy to announce that my joy is back, though I realize that many of you didn't know it was gone to begin with. I have alluded to this before, but I have been pretty stressed out recently. Also, for the last few months, I just haven't been feeling myself (which I realize is a pretty intangible concept), but more like a shell of myself. I couldn't get anything done during the day, had no motivation to do much of anything productive--though I would try and just spin my wheels--and the most worrisome aspect about this was the irrational anger and generalized frustration I felt. Some of this analysis comes in hindsight, but when I was first trying to come to terms with whatever was going on, I think I began referring to it as "my anger problem." You see, I wasn't crying my eyes out, or crying at all really, and I was tired, sure, but I got out of bed everyday (crying babies and all), so I really didn't consider that I might be depressed. I wasn't even sure that this Whatever-it-was had any root in my emotions or hormones or mind; I was afraid I was just becoming mean and nasty in my old age. I decided, though, mostly because of the way I was acting toward my husband and children, that I would "just see" what it was, so I called for an appointment with my doctor. I was nervous about what I would say to her because I didn't have any preconceived notions about what was "wrong" with me (not usually the case when I go to the doctor either). And I was embarassed to reach out for help, even though I knew I probably needed it. In the vein of reaching out, I even asked for prayer about the appointment at our small group meeting that week (and it was only the second time I had met some of those nice people!). I'm usually pretty open with how I'm doing spiritually, but I realized through revealing this that I feel very uncomfortable sharing these kinds of personal and emotional struggles. After I explained what I'd been feeling lately and how angry I'd been, my dear friend who has a background in counseling said, very gently, "You know, anger can be a symptom of depression." I didn't know that; everything started to make more sense after I found that out, however.

I went into the doctor's office with only a little bit of self-consciousness but mostly just hope that there might be a diagnosable reason for the way I'd been feeling. The doctor came in, sat down, and asked me, "So, what has been going on?" She listened attentively for several minutes, only speaking to ask pointed questions about my sleep, my work, my home life, my social life, etc. She was very caring and genuine. It was such a blessing! After gathering the recent history, and "observing [my] facial expressions" (when she said that, in my head I was like, 'uh oh, why? what is my face saying?'), she determined that I was dealing with post-partum depression and believed that I would benefit from some medication. I was baffled by the "post-partum" part. I said something to the effect of, "But my baby is 10 months old." Apparently, it still could be an issue up to a year or more after a baby is born. She gave me a prescription for an anti-depressant that is safe for breastfeeding, made some suggestions about getting more sleep and being purposeful to spend time with others rather than isolating myself, and asked that I return for a check on my progress in a month.

Last week, I returned for that re-check. As I answered the doctor's follow-up questions, I began to see fully the contrast between how I felt four weeks previously and how I feel now. A mark-ed difference, I can assure you. I feel like myself again, like I can breathe, like everything's gonna be okay, that I can do this, whatever the next "this" is. I am by no means "fixed," but my head is certainly a lot clearer and I don't have such an overwhelming sense of being out of control of my life. It's a start in the right direction anyway.

♦