Mental Health

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, especially with two celebrity suicides this week (Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain).

In the spirit of transparency and the hope of people being more open in the future, here are my experiences.  (Though, I've always been fairly open about all my health stuff, mental included).

I have had anxiety for as long as I can remember.  Actually, that's not quite true.  I think it started around age six, when my sister was born. I'm not sure if it was a coincidence.  Once my sister was born, I had constant worry at night.  I would often check on her to make sure she was breathing.  I would have dreams about bad things happening, and being somehow responsible.  Around this point, I also developed some OCD tendencies.  I would check the doors to make sure they were locked (more than once, even though I'd checked them).  I would go around and unplug things, as I was worried about fire (any lamps I could reach, always the toaster, anything else around). 

At some point, this anxiety lessened.

I think depression started in middle school.  Partly because middle school was awful.  I was not a cute tween, and kids that age are so mean.  Plus, working through relationships at home was hard.  It is hard to be the middle kid.  Plus since my older sister is on the spectrum, I often played the role of oldest as well.  (And my main method of getting attention was causing trouble).  I always felt like I was getting the short straw: Jessica had privilege due to her disability (God, it feels so petty to type that, but as a kid, I couldn't see around that).  And my little sister had privilege because she was the youngest.  I had a couple meetings with a therapist, but it wasn't helpful.

In high school, things improved some.  I fell in with a closer group of friends.  People were much less mean, and I enjoyed school most of the time.  I got a boyfriend which helped with my confidence some (since I never really found myself attractive).  The depression was still there, but it was pretty far in the background.

Then came 2001, the beginning of the hardest period in my life.  It was the year my parents got divorced, I started college and Aaron left on his mission.  All of a sudden the people who loved me the most were all very far away.  And college wasn't what I thought it would be.  High school was easy for me, I put in minimal effort and got all As and Bs.  College was really different, I had to study for my classes, which I didn't really know how to do.  Plus, I didn't have friends in my classes like high school.  That first semester I got mostly Cs and a couple Bs.  Besides that, I had no clue what I wanted to do/major in, so I (in reality) wasted a lot of time.  Anyway, sometime in college, I tried anti-depressants for the first time: Lexapro.  Lexapro was the worst, I felt like I was in a fog all day, and didn't take them for long.  I just managed on my own, just being sad most of the time.

Since then, things have ebbed and flowed.  There was only one period where I felt as low as I did back then.  And it was at that point I started a regiment of anti-depressants.  When I was diagnosed with Crohns, it became a real possibility that I might not be able to get pregnant, because the medications I was on where not conducive to growing a fetus, and because I was not health enough in general to be pregnant.  I started seeing my current psychiatrist, and I did a few different group programs.  I finally found a medication that worked for me.  We have changed it a couple times over the years, but in general, I've felt well.

My anxiety kind of hangs out in the background.  It seems like it's mostly social anxiety.  It's annoying, because it's lonely.  I feel awkward, and I don't easily make friends.  Plus when I'm invited to things, it's really hard to go.  It sounds odd, unless you've experienced it (which I guess is true of many things).

I've never actively thought about suicide.  But, it crossed my mind passively, which doesn't make sense, unless you've gone through it.  It's kind of like just not wanting to exist anymore.  I heard an interview on Fresh Air five-ish years ago with Allie Brosh (the author of Hyperbole and a Half).  I was listening to it, while on a lunchtime walk, and what she said so resonated with me that I started crying (as I walked).  She put into words my jumbled thoughts of the past few years.  And while I knew other people were depressed, it made me realize there were people like me. 

Which brings be back to the reason for this post.  Mental health is really just health.  But it's not viewed that way.  It's secret, or shameful, or private, something.  In the grand scheme of things, my experience with depression and anxiety is fairly minor or maybe moderate at times.  But I am one of many.  And while things can feel so crushing at times (or for periods), they do get better.  But don't be afraid to speak up.  Ask for help.  It's a little less crushing to speak about it.

June

My second try at the root canal went much better.  Whatever that numbing stuff was worked well.  I go back in a few weeks to do step two (hopefully finish it before the crown gets put on).

Bronwyn is pulling up and cruising on all the furniture.  She likes to walk holding onto our hands.  She says "more", "dada" and "mama".  She has finally started crawling normally most of the time (instead of the army crawl).

The kids have been a little rough on me lately.  Bronwyn has been extra grumpy, which I think (hope) has to do with teething.  She has not wanted to nap, and sleeping at night has been a little rough too.  I'm not sure what is going on with Bertram, but he gets into these meltdowns.  I tell him to clean up and he can't do it.  It's just impossible.  He'll scream "I can't do it". So I'll send him to his room for quiet time.  Sometimes he'll calm down, sometimes he won't.  I've been trying to help him add words to his emotions, so I can help him.  But thus far, it's not helping.  Today they were both at their worst at the same time.  He's been doing a lot of back talk too.  I take away privileges (tablet and tv) or use time outs or quiet time.  Maybe it's normal for 4 year olds.  But I guess we'll just muddle through.

Brianon mentioned the loneliness of being a stay at home mom in her blog.  It's been on my mind lately.  It's a tough dichotomy for me.  Because social anxiety makes me want to be on my own a lot, but I also want to have some friends.  I feel like I don't really have any close (local) friends anymore.  Maybe that's typical of SAHMs?  I don't think my mom had a lot of close friends when we were young.  I'd like to go to the park group with the other SAHMs from church, but Bronwyn is always napping when they meet.  Maybe it's another thing that just needs to be muddled through?  How does one make friends as an adult?

Church is kind of tough too.  I don't feel like I belong there.  Like I'm not good enough, or the same enough.  Plus, I've lost my testimony, pretty much entirely.  And the more I try to work on it (doing all the textbook things: reading scriptures, studying, praying etc), the further away I feel.  Maybe it's not where I'm supposed to be.  Is there a time when you throw in the towel?  I guess it doesn't matter too much, I'll still be doing the same things. 

Well, this has been a kind of depressing post.  I guess I've been a little down lately.

A pile of neuroses

I have come to realized that my baseline is a constant state of worry.  Since having Bronwyn my anxieties have gotten worse.

I get stuck in these loops are terrible things that happen to children; the real life monsters lurking in the shadows.  I worry there will be a fire, and I won't be able to get to them.  And it's weird stuff that sets this off, putting Bertie's underwear away, seeing a picture of a smiling child.  And the less weird things that set it off, terrible stories, events, accidents.

Then there are the "normal" worries:

• Am I giving Bertram enough attention since baby came along?
• Is the baby getting enough interactive time with me?
• Do I hover too much in an effort to keep them safe?
• Am I doing enough with Bertram, intellectually?  I can't get him to write letters or draw, he only wants to draw "marble mazes," which are scribbles.
• Will I ever lose the baby weight (or even some of it)?
• Will I ever feel like having sex again?
• Why can't I make myself exercise?
• Why does Bertram wake up in the middle of the night (almost every night)?
• Will we ever be able to have a decent amount in our savings account?
• How can I make friends?
• Why does everyone else seem like they're having so much fun?
• Will I ever feel successful?
• Am I taking the time to do self care? (no.) How can I make time?
• Will I stopped feeling gypped by my experience with Bronwyn's birth?
• Will the house ever look un-exploded?
• Why doesn't Bronwyn poop very often?
• Why is my comfort zone so uncomfortable?
• How much of this can be attributed to PPD?  How much is just me?
• Does anyone ever feel "good enough"?  If so, how?

Then there is envy.  I was thinking about an acquaintance from church, and how seemingly perfect things are for her. She and her husband own a beautiful house, their kids are well behaved, and speak two languages.  They can jet off for international travel without much saving.  The kids are in various private lessons.  She's beautiful, thin, and is always well dressed (even in yoga pants and a t-shirt. (How do people do that?) And I felt so jealous.  Then I felt like a shitty person for feeling jealous.  No one should begrudge anyone else's happiness.  Plus, I, of course, don't know what is going on inside her head.

Anyway, I just wanted to get it all out, in hopes I would feel a little better. But I don't.  I need to email my shrink.

(PS- Don't get too worried.  I'm not suicidal, or anything.  Just sad, and anxious).

21. How anxiety kept me safe.

As previously mentioned, I've dealt with anxiety for almost as long as I can remember.  I'd always thought of myself as a rule follower (especially after the incident mentioned yesterday).  I didn't want to be in trouble, and the rules were the best way to do that.  As time went on, I also didn't want to be noticed, and the best way to blend in, is not to do something wrong.

In middle school, I did all my work, and got good grades (except 6th grade math).  I didn't procrastinate much, and did my best to be a wall flower.  I didn't want critique or compliments, I just wanted to float along.  (I still don't do well with compliments).

In high school, when a lot of kids experiment with drugs, alcohol and sex, I didn't.  Part of the reason was because I was open about things with me mom, and I didn't want to tell her I did any of that stuff.  Another reason was that I was just scared.  I didn't want to do something illegal, I worried about getting caught.  I didn't want to not be in charge of my faculties, and do something I'd regret.

As a result, I've never been drunk, I've never been high, and I've only slept with one person.  I kind of regret the first two.  Youth is a time to try things out (maybe not high school, but college).  And I didn't.  I am happy that Aaron is the only one I've been with.

But maybe at 33, I could have a funny drunk story, or a regrettable tattoo, or know what weed is like.  Oh well, I guess there is still time for those things.  But now I don't have the excuse of being young... and I'm less anxious, well, mostly.

A couple things

Bertie has started to say I love you without prompting.  It melts my cold heart.

Yesterday he asked to say prayer before we had dinner.  Aaron helped him, of course.

Today I told Bertram it was nap time.  Usually he throws a fit ("No nap! No nap!") before settling down.  Today I told him it was nap time, and we needed to read a book. He said "No book, go bed".  So he took his new matchbox car and walked to his room.  I tucked him in, and he went straight to bed.  That was something he'd never done before.

I've been feeling better.  Still not great, but much improved from before.  I've been forcing exercise on myself, and counting calories.  I really need both.  I'm prone to eating.  Some people eat to live, I live to eat.  So went I don't count, I go way overboard.  Exercise has been good.  Monday and Tuesday I got up to walk at the track and then did the bikini body mommy workout.  Today I slept in (til 7:35) and exercised during nap time.

I have a new resume, but I need to start looking again.  But I'm kind of waiting til we get back from vacation.  And I kind of don't want a job (a sort of need one, but sort of not).  So I'm going to be picky.  Plus Aaron is applying for a new position at work, which pays more.  And he'll get a couple raises in August.  But money is, of course, stressful.

It's been hot for a couple days.  It makes me glad that I'm chopping off my hair in a couple months.

Depression creeps in. (Now with anxiety!)

Today I said to Aaron "Sometimes I with I was dead.  Just in a passive way". He asked if he needed to stay home, or find someone else to watch Bertram.  At first I was offended, I've never had any self harm behaviours.  But I understand his concern.  I emailed my shrink, so we'll see what he says.

I'm having odd social anxiety too.  I took Bertie to the library for story time.  We got in and sat down, and I almost started crying.  No reason.   Then I was going to go to this relief society thing tonight.  When it was getting close to time to leave my heart was racing, so I didn't go.

I've been really tired lately.  And neglecting self care.

Blah, blah, blah.  Sad Rachel.

Hope and Change.

Nope, it's not a political post.

I really need a change.  The way things are now isn't working, so I assume it will continue not working.  I'm sure a lot of what I'm feeling has to do with my consumption of Prednisone, but still...

Work has been kind of stressful, but it seems we've gotten through the stressful bits, and are on the right track once again.  That is a definite plus.

However, my depression and anxiety are getting worse.  Again, I assume it's Prednisone related, however, I still have about a month of Prednisone left, and I don't like the way I feel.  I'll be going along, just fine, then suddenly have this overwhelming, crushing sadness.  Or I'll be out driving around, and see someone walking a dog.  I'll think Oh what a cute dog.  Then I think of Zelda and Yoie, then the anxiety sets in.  Are they ok?  Did something bad happen?  What if the house caught of fire?  They'd be stuck inside!  It's unfortunate that being agoraphobic actually seems like a good option.  I'm going to email my shrink on Monday and see if he can adjust me meds a bit.

I'm still tired all the time.  And I've been eating like... I can't think of a good simile.  Like something like eats a lot.  Plus the Prednisone makes me puffy, so even if I'm not actually gaining weight (which would be a miracle) I'm rounder.

I know things will get better.  I know this isn't permanent.  I know this.  I just can't remember what it's like to feel normal.