Acceptance

So, everyone. It has been awhile, hasn't it?
I have been in a whirlwind of hospitalization, medication regulation, and, unfortunately, divorce.

I was hospitalized again, at the beginning of April. My depression was beginning to creep upon me again, and I went in practically begging for ECT to be given. Thankfully, my doctor talked me out of it.

"Just try it." she said, holding out the prescription of Wellbutrin to me. I was reluctant, because that was the same medication that had sent me into a manic tailspin before. We had agreed upon 150 mg instead of 300 mg. "If in four weeks you are not feeling better, come back here and we will dicuss another series of ECT."

That was on April 8th, and I have not been back.

I did spend my birthday in the hospital. It was very sad, but my fellow patients made me a card, signed it, and sang me happy birthday during recreational therapy. There is always a sense of camaraderie in there. Maybe because we are all suffering, so we all understand how badly we all need someone who understands and will not judge us, just because we have a diagnosed mental illness. We are all running the same race, just with different shoes on.

It is now near the end of May, and I feel incredibly stable. I feel like I can now walk a straight line, instead of constantly falling and shaking. My sense of reality is clear, and I now see a future ahead of me without a hospital stay every month. I must remind myself, there is no shame in going back, when needed.

I am still battling depression. It is not so much that I cannot breathe. I just have to get away and cry, or just sit and absorb everything around me, and remind myself that things are going to be alright.

One great thing that my therapist has told me is, "we all are attempting to paint the same picture, the picture of happiness and satisfaction in our lives, but the brushes are all different." Everyone is struggling. Even that happily married couple you are friends with, or that succesful lawyer. Or that mom who seems so adjusted. You never know what is going on behind their closed doors. I have to remind myself every day people are having it way, way worse than you are right now.

I hope to continue writing this blog, I dropped out for awhile; things were just getting a little heavy for me.

I hope everyone has a great second half of the week. Cheers.

Where Am I Now?

Well, some time has gone by,

and I will admit, I have been ignoring my blog a little bit. I have been pretty busy, moving and just taking care of two young kids and all. But mostly, feeling back to myself again.

Well, not completely myself.

After ECT, my depression was obliterated. The suicidal part, I will say.  ECT put me into a temporary stupor of complete bliss. I had a totally ditsy, care-free personality, and almost no memories of the weeks I had the treatments done. I was happy as a clam. Once that faded, I just felt normal. But the psychosis left with me a searing emotional wound.

Now, I am left to deal with the aftermath of the depression. The healing process. Which will not be easy in the least bit. I cry daily. Over anything. I am left an empty shell, trying to grow my sense of motherhood back.

Every time I see a newborn baby, I am reminded that I lost that. I have no memories of James' newborn days. And not in that hazy, I-am-a-new-mom-I-get-no-sleep lack of memories, but the loss of memories that comes from having psychosis. It just simply never existed.

Every time I see someone breastfeeding, hear someone talk about it, I want to close my ears and disappear. I know, formula is wonderful, and without it, James couldn't eat, but breastfeeding is so important to me for bonding. Because of my medication, I can't do it. If James is crying, I can't do anything but rock him and pray he stops. There is no soothing breast to give him, no napping together after a good feeding, nothing. And that kills me, every time I remember.

So, now what? My therapist tells me that, to get through this healing process, I need to "live intentionally." I have no idea what that means. Even after she explained it to me, I STILL don't get it. So, I have decided to try to use my life to figure that out. That means, playing with my toddler more, trying to live in his world. Using my past experiences to help others. Going to lunch with my sister spontaneously. Catching up with friends I haven't talked to or seen in months. Maybe that is what she meant.

I hope to see myself in a better light in the coming months. Until then, I can just keep praying and moving forward.

ECT & Me

So, I sit here trying to get my thoughts together. It's not an easy task, especially after undergoing two rounds of ECT.

Eleven days ago, I went back into being inpatient at Carolina Center. We did the usual "how are you doing, why are you back, how is your medication working." Me, being fed up with being hospitalized for this mess, decided to go forward with ECT. It was a hard decision, but so far, I believe I have made the right choice.

On Friday morning, I was woken up around 5:45 am and given a Zantac and a Zofran for nausea. They give you this so you don't vomit and end up aspirating it during the seizure they induce during ECT. I was seriously nervous. I spent the whole night before just praying and giving the next morning up to God and hoping for the best.

After I took the medicine, I was led down several hallways, into a room named "ECT Suite." My heart was racing, and they showed me to the first of several beds in the recovery room. There were about seven other people there, and all seemed as nervous as me.

I had about six circular things stuck to my body and had wires attached to them. I got two electrodes stuck to my forehead and an IV put into my arm. Then, I waited.

I was second in line to receive my treatment. I was rolled through the double doors and into the treatment room. I talked with the doctors for a few minutes, and was laid back onto my bed. I breathed into an oxygen mask, and three breaths later, it all goes black.

I woke up in the recovery room, remembering nothing, but I had a searing pain radiating from my chin to my right jaw joint. I had no memory loss to speak of, and felt somewhat different, but not much.

Now, after my second treatment I had on Monday, I feel a difference. My thoughts don't race as much, my emotions aren't as raw as they were during the depression, and my hopelessness is starting to melt away. But, I do have memory loss. I don't remember yesterday morning at all. I am having some trouble with word recall and putting sentences together. But, if it came down to choosing between contemplating suicide daily and having issues thinking of the word "microwave", which would you choose?

This treatment is not for everyone, but I can really feel a difference already. I am excited about my upcoming treatments; my next one is tomorrow at 9:00! I will be done by April, and will be ready to celebrate a really happy birthday, and start enjoying life with my children again.

The Road to Recovery

So, my antidepressant gets kicked up tomorrow. I have noticed it makes me seriously panicky, and it has destroyed my appetite. I feel as though I have to remind myself to eat.

Tomorrow I am also going to start weaning off of my antipsychotic, and to be honest I am super scared. It has been a crutch for over two months now and I am afraid of relapsing into my psychosis again once I am done with it.

But, as much as I am afraid, I am excited. If they think I am ready to start minimizing my medicines, that's a good thing. It means I am showing signs of recovery, and that my mind is mending itself. As one of my psychiatrists put it, psychosis is like a broken arm. First you put a cast on to stablize it, then you slowly move down to a brace, then eventually it is healed enough to be on its own.

I am confident in my doctors that this is the right decision. I am still fighting daily awful anxiety and depressive thoughts, but I am now getting breakthroughs of light and hope each day as well. So that in itself is recovery.

Seeing the Light

The power of prayer. It is an amazing thing. I truly believe that prayer and medication was what got me through this.

Today is the first day I am seeing the light.

Exactly three months ago today, my psychosis started. Exactly three months ago today, I descended into my own personal hell. My heart broke, my mind betrayed me, and my soul seemed to be shattered. I was someone else.

Today, I feel hopeful. I feel happy. I feel like I am coming through to the other side. This day is the first day that I have had no psychotic or depressive symptoms whatsoever. I found myself smiling at my newborn, and feeling pure joy. I have not felt that since he was born. I played with my oldest, genuinely enjoying it. God is good.

God is good, all the time!

I thank anyone and everyone thinking of me and praying for me throughout this hard time. I believe in miracles, and this was one.

Praise be to God.

Why Do Things Happen to Me?

There is one question I have been avoiding throughout this whole Postpartum Psychosis deal.

"why?"

I mean, you shouldn't question God's motives, right? Everything happens for a reason, right?

I feel like everything is happening at once right now. Illness, job losses, a newborn baby, it is all coming together and it just isn't making sense to me at the moment. Even when things are good, do they really make sense? Or is it because they are good, it doesn't matter if it makes sense? Why don't we ever search for meaning in the good parts of life?

God gives us struggles to bring us closer to Him. I truly believe that. I can't wait to see what He has in store for me after this hard time. It is hard to keep praising Him, but what else do I have to do? I won't curse Him, that will get be nowhere.

Just like Job, you shouldn't curse or turn from God when things get bad. You need to let Him take control instead and just let Him do His work. Weep, of course, because emotion is normal, but don't get angry with your Maker. That is what I have to keep reminding myself, and boy is it hard.

That's why I have my daily devotionals; A Guidepost First Year of Motherhood, and Jesus Calling. They have both helped me throughout, and I strongly encourage getting a daily devotional book, even if things are going great. It just might help pull you out when your life gets turned upside down.

Another thing that has helped me is to keep a "I'm Grateful" journal. Every morning I have to name five things I am happy to have in my life, and even though somedays are hard, I try to think of even the smallest thing, like my toothbrush, or a window to look out of in my bedroom.

Just some thoughts for ya'll if you are also going through the mud right now. Just let God carry you, it's going to be okay.

Recovery and ECT

Requiem for a Dream,

One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest, White Heat, all of these movies have scenes of someone being treated with ECT. These movies have highly demonized the procedure.

Why am I bringing this up? Because my psychiatrist highly recommended it for me. She said my depression and mania are swinging rapidly, and medication is not helping me fast enough. ECT stands for "electroconvulsive therapy." The psychiatrist puts two electrodes on your head, one on the right side of your head, and one on top. They give you a shock for about 5-10 seconds, and create a grand mal seizure. Thankfully, they give you a muscle relaxant and your body is not damaged by the seizure. You are also sedated the whole time. So, all in all, it isn't too bad of a wrap.

Risks: memory loss.

I have plenty of things I would not mind forgetting, most things date back before 2010. I mean, who doesn't want to forget their awkward middle school days? I know I do.

I am really nervous about the procedure. Not the shock, but the going under part. I have only been sedated once, and that was for my wisdom teeth. I don't remember a thing, but I still hate the idea of losing control and being at the mercy of doctors, even if they know what they are doing.

Apparently, ECT is a very common treatment for morbid depression, mania, and psychosis. Which I have all three, haha! So, hopefully it is as miraculous as it seems. More than likely I will undergo up to six treatments, two of which will be inpatient.

I need prayers and thoughts during all this. I am extremely nervous, but I feel that God is leading me to that procedure for a reason. I have to get better for not only myself, but for my two little babies and my husband, who has been nothing but wonderful throughout this whole mess. I just want to feel like me again, happy me. There is a difference between manic happiness and natural happiness. If you have ever been manic, you know what I mean. It's miserable.

So, hopefully it goes well. I go to talk to the doctors about it tomorrow, and most likely will start Monday. Will update afterwards as fast as I can!