You know that corny commercial “Depression hurts“? Well, it does.
After I had Smash-N-Break, I was diagnosed with PTSD, and depression. I had flashbacks and hallucinations of the surgery. I smelled it, saw it, felt it. I had a recurring nightmare of zombies attacking our house and trying to get to the kids. Plus One would fight back with wine, while I would ran upstairs to get to the kids. The zombies would stop and a female head zombie would come in to Smash-N-Break’s room. I would wake up just as she started to speak. Every night. It was awful.
I refused to admit I needed medication help, so I tried to just do talk therapy. I went to an idiot. About the third or fourth visit, he told me that I just needed to get pregnant to get over it. That at least my baby was alive and fine, and it wasn’t that big of a deal. Dude. I felt my uterus be cut open. I felt my organs being moved out of me. I felt the OB pulling a baby out of me before I mercifully was put to sleep. Yes, I don’t think I should have PTSD from this. It wasn’t war, I don’t do or have ever seen as much as our soldiers have. I feel weak for even having it. But, to me, it was a big deal.
So, I stopped going. I tried to tough it out and act fine. And, it worked. Until Littles. I broke down to my OB about being afraid of going home because I knew I was going to bleed out and die. She put me on Zoloft immediately, and told Plus One to watch me carefully. About six weeks later, PPD really hit. I hurt everywhere. I knew I was worthless. I knew everyone would be better off without me. I knew everyone hated me. I planned my suicide in such a way as to not leave a big mess for Plus One to have to clean up. Do you know what stopped me? I was apologizing to Littles that I would miss out on him growing up. He was the only one who wouldn’t repeat it. I could be honest with him. Then, what I was saying actually hit my ears. I knew I needed help. I told Plus One.
He got me help. He got me in to a counselor. I probably should have been put on a mental health hold, but the anxiety of leaving Littles alone, and not having the kids because I knew they would be taken away from me, prevented me from being absolutely truthful. I went through EMDR. I did therapy for 6ish months. The PPD was better. The counselor specialized in PPD. She couldn’t help me past that. She wanted me to stay on antidepressants. So, I did.
Then, once I weaned Littles (done breastfeeding after 3 1/2 years total between 3 kids!), they stopped working. My general practitioner prescribed a new medicine, along with more therapy. I discovered some skeletons in my closet that I still haven’t dealt with completely. Those bones are better in the closet for right now, but I need to deal with them to not pass them on to my kids.
We moved to Texas. I thought I could deal. I went off the meds. Holy hell, that was fun. The one they had me on is super addictive. It took me two months to wean off of them, and then another month of “zert zert” sounds in my head. I stopped caring again. I hurt again. My energy plummeted, which is saying something. Plus One liked that part of my depression – he could keep up. He asked me to get back to a doctor and talk to them. My new general practitioner gave me a new drug. It’s good. I’m becoming Q again.
I still feel weak for having this. I have a good life, a great family. I shouldn’t have this. But, I do. And it has a stigma attached to it. Some people don’t even want people with depression to have the ability to buy guns. I’m not suicidal anymore. I haven’t been since Littles was a baby baby.
I’ve lost me. I’ve lost who I am. Plus One is helping me find that again.. I’ve always tried to be who everyone else wanted me to be. That didn’t make me happy. I need Q. My kids need Q, whoever that is. Plus One needs Q.
Depression hurts, but you don’t have to. Reach out for help if you need it. You won’t regret it. We’re all a work in progress.
editors note: The suicide prevention hotline phone number is 1-800-279-8255. If you, or someone you know, is contemplating suicide please call. I am thankful every day that Q didn’t follow through and stopped herself.
*Zombie images from the pitch trailer for Zombie Fallout by Mark Tufo