There was a time not long ago when nearly every smile that crossed my face was fake. It was also a time when my toddler's voice or my newborn's cry brought shivers only duplicated by fingernails on a chalkboard. The ringing phone caused me to sink deeper into my chair, and I longed for someone else to take the children that looked like me but couldn't possibly be mine to bed so that I could be alone.
Today is a winding road
It's taking me to places that I didn't want to go
Today in the blink of an eye
I'm holding on to something
And I do not know why I tried
I tried to read between the lines
I tried to look into your eyes
I want a simple explanation
For what I'm feeling inside
I gotta find a way out
Maybe there's a way out
It was a dark time. I didn't know where I was or why, but I was quite certain that I would stay there forever. I couldn't figure out why I rarely felt connected to either child that I knew I loved . . . except when I did, and then it was obsessive. I was fine to let everyone, anyone, care for my girls . . . except when I wasn't, and then I was obsessive. I couldn't stay awake, but when I slept I couldn't rest. I was mean. I was ugly. And I didn't care a bit. About anything. And I figured no one else did either.
Except there were some who did, some who noticed. I thank God daily for those people. Without whom I would still be in my chair, not caring, going through the motions that I wished belonged to someone else. I wouldn't be me.
Postpartum depression. Really? Because I'm certain that only happens to other people. Depression is such a strong word. It doesn't really define me. But then again "a mental state characterized by a pessimistic feeling of inadequacy and a despondent lack of activity" certainly sounds like me. Sadness? Check. Hopelessness? Check. Low self-esteem? Check. Sleep disturbances? Check. Exhaustion, emptiness, inability to enjoy things one previously enjoyed, social withdrawal, low energy, becoming easily frustrated? Check, check, check, check, check, and check.
Okay. Deep breath. Maybe it's true.
Today is a winding road, tell me where to start
And tell me something I don't know
Today I'm on my own, I can't move a muscle
And I can't pick up the phone, I don't know
And now I'm itching for the tall grass
And longing for the breeze
I need to step outside
Just to see if I can breathe
I gotta find a way out
Maybe there's a way out
It's interesting that Webster's defines depression as "a falling in of the surface; a sinking below its true place," because I think that there is nothing that describes it better. I felt like I wasn't myself, and I wasn't. I had truly sunk below my true place as a wife, a mother, a friend, a valued person.
Yeah, I'm walking on a tightrope
I'm wrapped up in vines, I think we'll make it out
But you just gotta give me time
Strike me down with lightning
Let me feel you in my veins
I wanna let you know how much I feel your pain
Today my smiles are genuine. Today my daughters' voices are beautiful. Today I remember how to laugh. When the days get bad, I remember that day lying on the bed in Mackinaw City when I laughed, really laughed, as I was being smothered in "tickle kisses" from my patient husband and my beautiful toddler. It was a long time in coming, and I know it wouldn't have come without medicine and therapy.
I never wanted to be a medicine taker. I hate the idea. Maybe I'll talk about it more in a post on a different day, but I'll confess to being scared, nearly panicked, about starting an antidepressant. But I knew that it might help lift me back up to my true place and I had to find a way out, so I did. And it remains one of the best decisions I've ever made.
Oh, Ellie and Meggie. We've come so far. You are my beautiful girls.
Your voice
[Is] the soundtrack of my summer
Do you know you're unlike any other
And you'll always be my thunder
[My girls], your eyes
Are the brightest of all the colors
I don't wanna ever love another
You'll always be my thunder
So bring on the rain
Oh, baby bring on the pain
And listen to the thunder
Song lyrics from "Thunder" by Boys Like Girls, quoted here for my daughters.
6 comments:
I'm not your daughter, but I'm happy to enjoy your writing until they're old enough to appreciate what you're giving them.
I read this about depression:
I'm not sure I line up with his overall POV regarding the matter but I appreciate two of the points made under "#2".
In light of that, when can your family have dinner with our family?
Thanks for the link, Kevin. I'm glad that the author didn't make his statements universal, because I think it cheapens the reality of true depression to say that it is just a natural biorhythm. When applied to the postpartum time, that would explain Baby Blues, which almost every new mother--and many new fathers!--encounters in the weeks following a birth. Postpartum depression, of course, goes beyond that. Too few people understand the symptoms of PPD to be more than an overreaction to Baby Blues. In fact, when he talks about considering what you have to be grateful for, that is advice that nearly every PPD mom encounters with great regularity. It is almost destructive, because the mom likely already knows there is much cause for gratitude, and her inability to actually feel that gratitude becomes cause for guilt in addition to depression.
That said, I do agree that all of us have normal swings in our attitude, motivation, desire to be involved, etc. At therapy this week we actually talked about that. I mentioned that I lost my temper a few times and felt quite overwhelmed. At one point in the week I even said to Beau, "When Megan cries like that, it sets me back two months." My therapist and I talked about that, and she reminded me that I have two kids, it's been really humid, and we have been extra busy lately. She told me that any one of those on its own can be a recipe for "depressive feelings." The important thing is to truly pick yourself up from that--as one of those natural biorhythms--and not consider it a setback. And then enjoy the company of good friends.
Eugene Peterson, in "A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship in an Instant Society," said, "Assemble in your imagination all the friends that you enjoy being with most, the companions that evoke the deepest joy, your most stimulating relationships, the most delightful of shared experiences, the people with whom you feel completely alive--that is a hint of heaven." We would love a hint of heaven with the Rings.
Dang you're good.
Welcome back up out of the sinkhole---back to becoming who you are.
I love you.
wmw
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