The Clog.

I fell a little more deeply in love with Uriah last night. Not that there was any empty space inside my heart that wasn't already filled to the brim with my love for him. 

Yesterday we worked together to get the clog out of my breast that was causing me such awful pain. It's a physical and mental pain, you see breastfeeding can be a real mind trip. Being so attached physically to a small human wears on me mentally. There are many sacrifices I have had to make, and I would never regret any of them, but still. It takes a lot of me.

So when I got that nasty clog I was almost resentful. Why why why? And how was I going to get the stupid thing out with a toddler who only likes to nurse for no more than 3 minute intervals (and a broken breast pump?)

We were supposed to go over to my in laws for dinner, but I couldn't even put a bra on. It was getting closer to dinner and Uriah was getting a little tired. We snuggled on the couch and watched a show then I pulled him into my lap to nurse. He didn't wiggle around and try to stand up, he just snuggled in, stroked my chest with his hand and nursed away. It was so relaxing. And he stayed like that for about 15 minutes, a record as of late. When he finished he sat up and smiled at me and I knew right then he had released the clog. I kissed him a million times as we laughed and did a celebration dance. He did it, we did it, and I'm so proud of us. One more obstacle we overcame together. We are that much closer now in the never ending, always changing rhythm of mama and child.

Treatment.

I've been wanting to write about this for awhile now. But before I start, please know this isn't a discussion I am opening up, I'm not looking for advise. But if you would like to bare witness to my experience, and learn about one person's struggle fighting depression, then you are welcome here. Thank you.

I've been fighting this depression so hard, and I've been getting a lot of treatment for it. I have family supporting me, being there for me, cooking my family meals, going out of their way to listen to me. I've been going to therapy every week, and I have an incredible therapist who I trust. I am also using anti-depressants to fight this.

And there it is.

There's a lot of stigma around anti-depressants. We joke around about Zoloft, or about the anti anxiety med Zanax. You might not know how they effect people, so you might assume, like I once did, that they just make you happy. 

There's also talk that they make you suicidal, and that people who commit mass shootings are on anti-depressants. There are lots of things that might be assumed about anti-depressants, but if you've never had to make the difficult decision to take them, please from now on, just assume you don't know. And if you chose to make jokes about them think about how it might affect someone who has made the difficult decision to use them.

This is my experience, but what I know is that every person's experience with depression is very different. In fact, I have a hard time relating to other people with depression because our stories are always so different.

Anyways. When I realized I had depression I knew I had to get rid of it, like as soon as possible. For myself, for my baby and husband. I needed it gone. It's so heavy and painful. I went to see a psychiatric nurse practitioner. She is my therapist, and she also prescribes medications. I knew going to therapy would help, but it was obvious to me I needed help from medication.

So I started on Zoloft. I hated it. It had awful side effects, it helped my mood, but I couldn't deal with the side effects. So I switched to a different anti-depressant. It took a while to adjust to it, and then I found that it didn't really help me. I tried a different dose, no dice. So I switched again.

After every medication that didn't work for me I asked myself: is it worth it? To keep trying all these weird meds that I've never needed or tried before with potentially weird side effects? Is it worth it?

For me, the answer was and is yes. Because I hate being stuck to the mattress and not being able to play with my son. Because I deserve to not hate myself to the point of self loathing. Because God created life to be joyful, hard yes, but joyful. I am thankful God has given us knowledge of medicine and science. I am thankful God created our souls and there is a phycology to our minds. I'm thankful that I have support from my village, my meds, and my therapist to get to the bottom of this and kick this depression to the curb. 

It's intense making all these decisions. It's difficult, but on the good days I can tell I'm doing a good job. I see the future and it feels warm and happy. On the good days I feel proud of myself and it gives me hope.

December was really rough. I had a handful of ok days, and I'm starting to feel better. I'm getting used to a new med and I'm getting used to how it feels and how it's effecting me. Sometimes it makes me feel very... Surface level. As if I'm sitting in a glass bottom boat and I can look into the depths and see all there is going on below me, but I can't feel it. Like I can't reach down and feel anything even though I know it's there. It makes it hard to write. Which sucks. But sometimes I know it's helping me. And I know I shouldn't be down there feeling everything all the time anyways. 

It's scary because I will likely have to switch again. My cabinet is filled with all these pills that didn't work for me. I'm afraid of adjusting to a new one, but I remember how freaking horrible I feel when meds aren't helping me at all. I don't enjoy feeling so shallow, and spacey, but I enjoy being able to function on some level.

It rips my heart out. I never knew this battle would be so difficult.

There it is. See? This is awful and hard, but I'm doing it. It is complicated, smudged up here and there. I'm fighting the stigma. I'm constantly trying not to be hurt by well meaning, but still very hurtful things people say to me to try and help (bonus tip: you don't actually have to say anything.)

Depression is so different then I ever imagined it to be. Be gentle with those who are hurting, and don't be so quick with advise(there are experts for that.) A hug or a smile is usually more helpful anyways.

Thank you for hearing me out and witnessing my experience.

Weighted

I imagine I would just fold into the wind. Just evaporate straight into heaven. I'd make a better memory then I would a person I think. They would remember the words I wrote and how I loved. And that way I wouldn't be stuck hating myself constantly. I wouldn't be stuck in this broken body that crumples into itself when I need to be strong.

I've done enough and everyone knows me. And if not for this boy I think I would float away. I could never ever part from him. There would never ever be a me that would be able to separate from him. If I folded to the wind my heart would ache for him even in my death. He's my boy. My wonderful, sweet, perfect child, and at times he is the only thing holding me here, but my love for him is heavy, so incredibly heavy, and it will weigh me to the earth through all the waves.

Tiring days

Today I made myself get out of the house. I've been really struggling with doing this, and I'm not sure why. My therapist asked me to write down the thoughts that were preventing me from leaving so that we could trouble shoot next week. I did so when I was getting ready, and I had a list that was much longer than I thought it would be.

I should have left the house on a week day, but today just happens to be Saturday, and it was so busy in town. 

I went to a clothing store, and then I went to the mall. I also went to Willamette Valley Fruit company where we found some pumpkins for Moose to play with.

It was very stressful being in public. I felt invisible, and embarrassed about my own presence. As if everyone knew I was terrified. I just wanted to sink away.

The way home was about 25 minutes of my poor boy screaming. He won't nurse in public anymore. He gets too distracted, no matter where I try to hide us. So when we went home I think he realized how hungry he was. It's so hard listening to him cry. 

When we got home he took a nap and I tried to talk myself down. I'm feeling like a failure. It's very frustrating not being able to do simple things that normally would be easy. I'm feeling like I need to spend ten days in hibernation. It's terrifying that we will be gone all day tomorrow. 

I'm also dealing with side effects from A medication and Moose and I both woke up with head colds. My immune system is good for nothing, and I've been sleeping terribly.

A GOOD day.

I am laying in bed, reflecting on my day like I always do. Turning over conversations and emotions and seeing what's here. I got up with my Moose, had coffee and breakfast and he actually enjoyed eating solids with me.

He took a nap, dad came home, and I got a kiss and a hug. We got out of the house, went to Target. Got a car seat, which came with a gift card, so I could also buy a sweater for our pictures on Sunday. Ran into two people we knew in town. Came home and I got to read the car seat manual (I love doing that) then I installed it.

We made mac and cheese for dinner, and watched our favorite show and played with our sweet happy boy. 

We all bathed and put on our jammies and my little boy fell asleep so peacefully on my chest in no time at all.

I had a good day.

At no point did I want to cry, and hide away. I didn't have to talk me out of hating myself. I didn't feel worthless today. Today was just good. 

I'm thankful for today, and for this break from the waves. I have been fighting for this feeling. For laying down at night without having to negotiate all of the hell my mind had traveled through during the day. I can just lay here and relish in this victory. I know I'll have more hard days to come, but this, this is so good.

Getting derailed

It seems like I'll never settle into these new bones. I don't feel like I can relate to who I was two months ago. Or even ten minutes ago. I feel completely different. As if I had amnesia and everyone expects me to be the person I was and I don't know who that person was. 

My mind flows like the tide. One minute hopeful and the next minute trying to avoid thinking about anything. Trying to identify the voice saying I suck at life as the depression. Trying not to dwell on how much I hate myself in those moments. Just trying to make it till the tide comes back around.

It seems as though I'll feel like I'm getting ahead and getting better. But then it really doesn't take much to derail me. Just a penny on a track is all it takes. 

I try to go through the motions even when I feel like burrowing beneath the earth and hiding. I'll get up and clean and make dinner and maybe leave the house. I try to do what I would want to do if I weren't feeling like a pile of poo. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it makes me feel like a fraud. 

My sweet perfect baby boy is teething. He's got drool coming out like a faucet, and he is biting the shit out of my nipple. It freaking hurts, but I don't think he will ever stop doing it. He only gets more upset when I put him down. Breastfeeding is hard, but being a baby is way harder. I think I'm going to get myself a "breastfeeding for a year" present because my boobs have gone through a lot and this shit is hard freaking work and I deserve it. I wish I would have counted how many nursing sessions Moose has had. I think I'll ask God when I get to heaven. And I'll thank him for being able to do it. Even though I keep getting bitten. 

He's still the best most sweetest Moose ever. I love him more than anything.

Settling in

I hate making titles to my posts. But I can't post without a title. Balls.

Balls. My friend from high school used to say that and it always makes me laugh.

Anyways. This morning was so good. Then it got bad. And it's funny. Because I thought it was like a cold. It just disappears one day. Not the case! It's not even one day at a time. It's one hour at a time. It's so frustrating. I just want to feel better already. I'm over it. I hate this. I want to breath and dance and enjoy mundane things. 

This is so hard. 

Thank you to my family who is still carrying me through this. To those who love me and are showing up for me. I'm leaning on you and you are strong for me. Thank you.