My Mental Health Journey : Part 500
I haven’t always been open about my mental health struggles, in fact I use to try and hide them. I couldn’t truly begin to heal until I let people into my dark and very scary world. So here I am once again, fighting a battle that makes you feel so incredibly alone, trapped in your own brain, running from your own thoughts, being tormented by…yourself. I’m in the thick of it right now, my knees are scrapping rock bottom and the light at the end of the tunnel seems impossibly far away.
Let’s step back a minute and recap in case you are new here: OCD diagnosis was in middle school - then a couple years ago I went through a rut with my OCD (got an additional GAD diagnosis) but with medication and therapy I was able to overcome it once more and find my “normal” again. Then, the best thing in the entire world happened, we got pregnant and welcomed our sweet baby boy into the world. Pregnancy did amazing things for my anxiety, all those prego hormones balanced me right out. Post-partum was going great… until it wasn’t.
When I look back and try to piece together how it happened and when it happened and WHY it happened, this is what I get: it was a slow gradual build up… at first. One thing led to another, things kept piling up, and then… like an egg under pressure…I cracked. Now here I am, several weeks later, slowly trying to put the pieces of my shell back together. I wish I could say it’s been easy, but it has not, because healing is not linear. A slow gradual buildup to a breakdown requires a slow gradual buildup to a breakthrough.
My anxiety started to heighten back in May when Declan got sick for a continuous six weeks, nothing is harder than watching your baby be sick and feeling so helpless when you can’t take it away, but the big breakdown… started at the end of July, and y’all it was a doozy. It started with a sinus infection which turned into convincing myself I was dying. Anxiety =’s hard core catastrophizing. Once I came back to reality on that one, I was still in this terrible rut and couldn’t figure out why. I just felt sad...lost...disconnected and I didn’t want to get out of bed.
Post. Partum. Depression.
I made a call to my OBGYN… I took a lot of screening tests… and I scored very, very high. So, they referred me to a place called “The Nest” because they specialize in this lovely domain. I started therapy (and have been going bi-weekly since August) and oh how it helps. Not only does my therapist assure me I’m not an actual crazy person but the coping skills I learn are SO WORTH IT.
When the PPD hit I took a couple weeks off from work to reduce as much stress as I could and to focus on recovery. Jordan took off work to help with Declan and my mom came to stay with us to help out as well, and mostly because I didn’t want to be alone. Most days getting out of bed was a struggle and I would nap every time Declan napped. I would be holding my HAPPY giggling baby and start sobbing. I didn’t feel worthy, I felt guilty for sleeping too much, for not working, for needing help. Therapy was my game changer and slowly I started working again for shorter hours and less days. I thought I was doing better, I was looking forward to going back to work, I was feeling happy again.
But the breakdown wasn’t finished. PPD was just the gateway…
On August 26th when once again I thought I was dying, but I wasn’t, instead I had my very first panic attack.
It was, hands down, the scariest and the worse moment of my life.
It was a normal Wednesday night; Dec was sleeping, and Jordan and I were watching Netflix. I started feeling panicky but didn’t know why. I have anxiety so I feel anxious a lot, but this was different. So, we stopped what we were doing and went outside to try and snap me out of it. It worked for a hot minute. Then it just kept building and I couldn’t stop it. I ended up sitting on the floor, I was terrified, I was hysterical, I was hyperventilating, I felt like I couldn’t breathe and was going to pass out or die. Jordan was holding me, trying to help calm me, but it just kept building and I told Jordan to call 911. A police officer showed up first and he was a true godsend. He helped me focus on my breathing to calm down and he met with me on a very personal level. Turns out his wife also suffers from panic attacks. Then the paramedics arrived, and they were also so so so good to me. They checked my vitals and continuously reassured me that I was going to be ok, and they stayed with me until I came out of it. One of the paramedics gave me a hug as she was leaving, and that simple gesture was immensely comforting and made me feel a little less crazy. The plan once they left was to go straight to bed… but unfortunately that did not happen. Within minutes of them leaving I went right back into the panic attack and still wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t actually dying so we went into the ER. We have the world’s sweetest neighbor, and she immediately came over to stay with Dec. At the ER they ran a few tests to make sure nothing physical was going on, gave me a clean bill of physical health, and put me on lorazepam because my sweet ER Dr looked at me and said she was not going to send me home like this. By the time we got discharged the meds were doing their job and I was utterly exhausted. The next two days all I did was sleep and take medicine to keep the attacks away.
In the weeks that have followed, I’ve had 3 more panic attacks, and use my coping skills on a daily basis to keep the panic attacks at bay. I’ve also been experiencing an array of physical symptoms since having my initial attack and holy heck I didn’t know anxiety was capable of producing so many different physical symptoms. I’ve been to urgent care twice for my symptoms and had X-rays and ECGs that all come back normal. I’m thankful for the Drs who run the tests to make sure it is in fact JUST my anxiety causing these things and don’t just brush me off because of my anxiety. I’ve had facial and whole limb tingling and numbness, sharp head pains, chest tightness, throat tightness, my lungs have felt like I have pneumonia, I feel like I’m never breathing normally, and like I am going to pass out randomly. I have NEVER had physical symptoms (except for headaches) with my anxiety before so this have been EXTREMELY difficult to navigate, hence the urgent care visits.
I am beyond thankful for therapy and my support system of family and friends because my medication journey has been a hot mess. I’m not going to go into detail here because it just makes me angry, but short story, my Prozac is NOT working anymore.
I share my journey with the hope that I can help others who may be fighting battles they aren’t comfortable talking about yet. We don’t choose to have a mental illness, but we can choose to overcome it. Having a good support system helps but having people to talk to who have first-hand experienced these mental battles HELPS EVEN MORE and that’s why I will continue to tell the world about my mental health battles. You are not alone, you are not crazy, and you will and can get better. This is NOT your fault.
The biggest thing I have learned this time around is that YOU have to advocate for YOU. STOP saying yes to everything and trying to please everyone, it’s time you put yourself first. Ever since having Declan all I have wanted is to put him first and be a good mom, but I’ve come to realize that the ONLY way I can do that is if I put MYSELF first.
I’m healing, and I’m taking it SLOW this time. Between my dear friend, husband and parents, Declan and I have not been alone for more than a couple hours since my attack. I haven’t been back to work since having my panic attack and Sep 30th (just over a month since my original panic attack) was the first time that Declan and I spent the majority the day together by OURSELVES. It wasn’t easy and I was pretty anxious most of the day, but I did it. I didn’t rush myself and I waited until I felt ready and capable. I’m allowing myself grace and time. I am continually learning to lean on others and that it’s OK to be a hot mess from time to time. After all, we are simply human.
I have really good days, and I have really bad days. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how dark it may get. I am turning to therapy, I am relying on my friends and family for support and I am so desperately trying to trust God during this difficult process. Your mental health matters and so does the mental health of those around you. If you are so fortunate to not know whats it’s like to live with a mental illness I ask that you please educate yourself for two reasons: 1. To be an ally to those who suffer and help end the stigma around mental health and 2. so you can recognize the signs and symptoms because mental health is treatable and suicide is PREVENTABLE.
Lastly, panic attacks are no joke y’all.
