Hello again, friends! It’s me. I’m back, at least for the moment. As I am reflecting on 2018 and the incredible year it has been, I felt inclined to finally resurface in my little space on the great and almighty world wide web.
This year has been a roller coaster ride. God has given me so much to be grateful for this year, but I am no fan of roller coasters and truthfully, this has been one of the most challenging years for me and for my family.
2018 was a year of transparency.
Since Greta was born, I have struggled with postpartum depression and anxiety. She has brought so much joy to my life but there’s so much more under the surface. So much more than the photos I post on Instagram. This is the hard stuff that no one wants to talk about when you have a baby.
Like many other mothers, I hid from it and I hid it from everyone around me. I fibbed on the questionnaires at Greta’s check-ups, told the doctors I was fine. No one questioned me and we all moved on with our lives. I was embarrassed and I was ashamed. It was my worst kept secret. I figured that since everyone talks about how “normal” it is to have the blues after having a baby, it would just go away eventually. I slapped on a smile and tried to soldier through day after day being normal. I hate that word, “normal.” It’s not a very good word.
But it didn’t go away and then it got so much worse. It’s a dark, painful, lonely and very scary place to be. I could experience incredible happiness with my kids and a few minutes later I’d be sitting in my closet holding the baby, having an anxiety attack. I’d pull myself back together and take the kids to gymnastics where I’d smile and joke with the other moms like everything was fine. Everything was not fine.
Alone.
The fact that I couldn’t identify the triggers of the attacks made me feel crazy. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Alex or my mom or even my closest friends about them for a long time. The panic attacks, the constant anxiety, the irrational thoughts, the headaches, the tears. To feel so many emotions at the same time: loved and alone, accomplished and a failure, needed and a lack of purpose. The expectation to be everything for everyone all of the time. It’s hard for me to think about and reflect on, it’s even more difficult for me to talk about it. As a result, I suffered profusely in my own little bubble and so did my family. I disconnected from everything and everyone in my life. I hid behind my photography on social media. I want you all to know I have no intention of trying to portray a perfect life on social media. Photography is an outlet for me. I love that I’m able to document the fleeting moments of our crazy life and I am so glad for the photos I have. The pictures help.
Every dang day I wanted to give in. I wanted to lay down in my bed and never get out of it. I wanted to relinquish the care of the children to someone else and run away. But it’s a double-edged sword because the thought of anyone else caring for my children was a trigger for anxiety. I didn’t understand my brain and I couldn’t live with myself. I started every day warding off the devil and giving it all to God. I ended every day doing the same thing.
I knew it was getting bad. I knew I needed to get help. But I was so embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted so badly for someone to tap Alex on the shoulder and ask if it could be possible that I needed help. I prayed that someone, anyone, would see past the veil I was wearing to hide my struggles that I was so ashamed of.
Turns out I’m a stiff-upper-lip-I-can-HANDLE-this type of person. I believe too deeply in my own infallibility. I refused to recognize that I had depression and anxiety, though I knew it was there deep down in my subconscious. But on the surface I viewed it as a weakness on my part and a failure to live up to my expectations. After all, I wanted this baby and the two that came before her. I didn’t think I was allowed to be depressed amid such bounty and blessings from God.
I trudged on telling myself the heaviness would evaporate. Nothing helped. I quit taking care of myself. Showering daily was a chore, my hair fell out and I stopped eating. I drank a lot of wine. Everything was a slog and I lost the ability to enjoy my children. They grated on my nerves. Every scream, every cry, every need was amplified in this echoing chamber of depression. And yet, I loved them with every fiber of my being and I made sure to protect them in every possible way I could. I wanted to run away but I wanted to bring my kids with me. It was a catch-22.
I lived in an emotional desert. I operated on a strict and orderly schedule. I became addicted to being in control because it distracted me from sadness and incessant worrying. Routine, routine, routine because that I was something I could control. I started complaining to Alex every night after putting the kids to bed. I’d start in on a litany of complaints every evening and go to bed full of rage and resentment, often devolving into tears. Saturating, despondent tears.
I found myself in a new level of desperation that I’d never experienced before. I couldn’t make it through the day without tears. I harbored extremely intense guilt over everything. I couldn’t relish the simplest moments with my kids. I looked forward to absolutely nothing.
Finally I reached out for help during a very low point, thanks to the loving support and encouragement of a close friend (one of several who have held me through this phase of my life). I called a help line. The phone call didn’t go well. The therapist on the line was kind and well-meaning, but she almost immediately diagnosed me with postpartum depression and anxiety. She wasted no time in encouraging me to visit my primary care physician and get a prescription for an SSRI. She connected me with someone who gave me a list of psychiatrists in my area covered by Tricare and their phone numbers. She told me to enjoy every moment with my kids because it goes fast and wished me well. I sat on the on the floor and cried because I didn’t know what else to do.
Then came the emotional flood as I processed the phone call over and over and over again. I Googled SSRI and that freaked me out. I didn’t want medication, I believed it would only mask the problem. I didn’t know who I would be or what it would do to me or if it would even work. It may work for some but I knew it wasn’t the answer for me.
I AM depressed. This is MY anxiety. I started owning the diagnosis and things got worse. There is a stigma about mental illness. The label made me feel incurable, like I had a broken brain. Healing was not part of the discussion with the lady on the phone, only management was offered. In the following weeks, I realized I needed to do the work if I wanted to get better. Medication wasn’t an option for me and this wasn’t going to just go away. No one can give you something you aren’t willing to give yourself and I wanted to be better. For me, for my kids, for my marriage, for my parents and sisters, my friends…the list of the people I felt like I’d hurt went on and on… I haven’t been the mother that I know deep down that I’m capable of being. The guilt of that alone was so heavy and haunted me daily.
I started seeing a holistic therapist and began the healing process of facing this “diagnosis” the lady on the phone gave me. She has helped me understand that mental disorders are symptoms of an underlying cause and is helping me get to the root of the problem. I first had to release the diagnosis from my identity. THIS is the healing process.
And I’ll be danged if it isn’t hard.
I am still in the midst of healing, there have been so many bumps – no, mountains – along the way and I have to hurdle them. I just have to. Setbacks can be as big as a break of routine or the day cancer took my grandpa from this world. But in the big picture, I am making progress. It stings, I hate the work – I despise it. I spend days wishing it were easier. It’s a long road to heal but it’s my divine right to manifest my future self.
This blog post is part of releasing my identity from the diagnosis. I’m talking about it, I’m mourning the loss of that identity and am gaining a new healthy self. I keep tabs on how I feel each day and I vow to be proactive in making sure I’m okay. My faith is stronger than ever and I look forward to 2019 and all the good things God has planned for me and my family. So here I am, telling you all about it.
I can’t end this without saying this: my hope is that through sharing my story, a few people – or even just one person – will be motivated to seek help. If you recognize or suspect any of the symptoms of depression or anxiety in you or someone you know, PLEASE TAKE ACTION. Check in on the new parents that you know. If you’re a new parent struggling to enjoy your child(ren), struggling to comprehend your new role as a parent, even struggling to see the point of life, PLEASE GET HELP. Today. Right now. You’re not being whiny or dramatic, no one will laugh at you. Depression lies to you, anxiety causes your brain to play tricks on you. Do not be ashamed, fear does not own you. Remember that you are beloved and you deserve to be healthy. And I’m here if you need to talk.
As for me, I’m looking forward to a happy and healthy 2019 for my family and myself! I wish you and yours all the best in 2019! And I pray this year be just a bit more chill than 2018…😘
Lorrie Mourlam says
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Kristen says
You are enough! You are a wonderful loving, caring, patient and amazing role model of what a mother should be! Don’t ever sell yourself short! Praying for a happy and healthy New Year for you. 💕
Adele says
Dear sweet Emily, I too suffered after Olivia. It was August in my Mecca (Montana) where I realized how irrationally angry I was. I even pictured harming myself or Olivia. I went right to Mark, he was receptive and supportive. We worked on my new friend anger. And as you have seen anger came and stayed as my neurological issue set in. It’s crazy because Mark was the fiery Frenchman- I was the calm sweep it under the rug one. We had to change, and oh how we have! LOL I love you EmilyAlex+3, thank you for reminding me how much I love myself, my family and my god.
Deb Cypher says
I’m sorry you’re experiencing such pain but so so grateful you wisely sought help. I absolutely agree that this is a health issue that is not openly discussed enough. Allegheny Health Network at West Penn Hospital here in Pittsburgh opened a department devoted entirely to post partum depression and anxiety They screen every new mom several times and they evaluate everyone who calls no matter how long it’s been done they had their baby. It’s AWESOME. They use a holistic approach of therapy and medication if needed. The unit itself is gorgeous – babies are welcome and families are involved. The unit came about because one man’s wife committed suicide six weeks after the birth of their daughter and he was determined to be part of a solution. It begins with openly talking about it. Thank you for your courage and your vulnerability. I’m so glad you’re seeking treatment. Please also remove the stigma that sometimes is associated with taking medication It is sometimes necessary and should not be minimized as an effective form of treatment. Whatever it takes !!! God bless you for sharing and I’m praying for all of you You are special to us.