Monthly Archives: September 2013

Struggle

strug·gle 

ˈstrəgəl :  have difficulty handling or coping with.
 
 
Yes I have been struggling.  Deeply struggling.  With the hard onset of anxiety/panic attacks, coupled with a terrible reaction to a medication, I have been in my own psychological hell.  For about a week now I have not been able to focus, see daylight or get my brain to calm down for even half a second.  The intrusive thoughts have plagued me to the point of feeling as if I am losing my mind.  I have struggled to the point of not being able to be present for my children.  
 
 
Today – finally – I can get my head slightly above water.  The nagging feeling of anxiety is there in the back of my mind but it isn’t at the forefront.  The desire to hole up and be alone isn’t quite as strong.  I am hoping this is a sign of the medication getting out of my system and me going back to normal.  Back to a place where “hurt” and “death” aren’t part of my every waking moment.  
 
 
I feel incredibly vulnerable putting this out there due to the possibility of even one of you reading it.  I don’t want to admit the dark places that my mind has seen.  I am feeling lucky to be coming out of it.  I keep wishing, hoping and praying that tomorrow isn’t 5 steps backwards.
 

Day 1

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Today is day 1 of a new medication.  I fear this day in ways that I’m not even sure I can explain here.  What if this one doesn’t work either?  What if the side effects are too much to bear this time?  What if nothing will ever work for me?

I’m going to start at the beginning.  I will warn that this post will probably be long and rambling and not the happiest of topics.  This is designed mostly to get my intrusive thoughts out onto paper in hopes that I can begin some recovery.  

I remember my first panic attack like it was yesterday.  In actuality it was well over 15 years ago.  It started in my car, stopped at a red light, thankfully only about 5 minutes from my house.  I was still living with my parents at the time.  I rushed in the door, unable to calm down, and begged my mom to take me to the ER.  She obliged although I’m pretty sure she thought it was nuts that I, an 18 year old, through I was having a heart attack.  As soon as we arrived at the ER, the lady behind the desk pointed out to mom that I looked and acted like you stereotypical anxiety attack.  1 shot of sedatives and a prescription for Lexapro later and we were out of there.  

I stayed on the Lexapro until I moved out of my house and could no longer afford it.  I spent the majority of my early twenties self-medicating with alcohol and bad decisions.  

When I was 26 I met my husband.  I went back on the Lexapro until I got pregnant with my first child.  After I had Adrienne, Postpartum hit me with a Mack truck.  I couldn’t be around my baby.  Her crying would make me either cry myself or want to leave.  I couldn’t handle this mom thing.  Back to the Lexapro.  There was mild relief in that but nothing that ever made me feel “normal”.  I was still have panic attacks pretty regularly and the depression that was starting to set in couldn’t be overlooked.

Then we got pregnant with my second child.  Back off the meds.  

After having Conner, my new doctor (we had relocated) put me on Zoloft to manage the inevitable Postpartum.  This seemed to work well until recently.  My son is 13 months old now and I feel like I have never felt before.  Ideas of wanting to hurt myself.  Thinking that my children deserve a better mom than me.  

Yesterday I bit the bullet and called my doctor.  He switched me to Wellbutrin for the depression in the morning and Zoloft for the anxiety at night.  I am terrified of what happens if this doesn’t work.  I should know very well that this is not the end of the line or the last option for me, but that doesn’t squash the fear.

The biggest step I made was to actually take it this morning.  1 small, baby step at a time.  I will keep reminding myself that I am doing this for myself, my beautiful babies and my wonderful husband.

Mommy Comparisons

male-and-female-relationship-signThe big push in the world of blogs right now seems to be 1 of 2 things.  The first are those older parents writing letters to the teens of America (i.e. Mrs. Hall).  The second are the ones that I am seeing more and more often.  Those are the blogs that are discussing why us moms find the need to compare ourselves to other moms.  I personally like to believe that I run my family in the way that is best for our circumstances and try desperately hard not to compare myself to all of the other moms that I know.

My take on this situation falls into a slightly different category.  Why are we not seeing blog after blog about dads that compare themselves to other dads?  Is it because we, are woman, are more competitive with each other?  Is it that there are just an overwhelmingly larger number of women writing on the internet than men?

Last night I asked my husband if he ever finds himself comparing himself to other dads.  He didn’t even hesitate before giving the answer, “No not really.”  Now, don’t get me wrong.  My husband, of course, wants to be the best father possible.  He has a lot of friends who are fathers of children around our children’s age.  But they seem to be more accepting of each other and their different parenting styles than we are as women.

Have any of you found this to be true?  Are you husbands/significant others the same as mine?