MEMORIES

I was hanging out with my friend earlier, checking out this sweet book she has on Mandalas from different cultures. I love those.

When I was 12, I used to draw them, not knowing what they were, or properly creating them probably. In college I learned a lot more about them, as it was art school. I surmise that I drew a couple then as well. I was more into the boxes and these incredibly beautiful beads I was making though. Fast forward to the very beginning of my relationship with my children’s father, we used to watch a tv show which featured mandalas and meditation as a central theme in several episodes. Here I am now, pining away for my children, coloring them in to keep my anxiety at bay, using them as a meditative aid so that I can focus my energy on positive thoughts.

You’re probably confused. A lot has gone down since May. I won’t get into it in great detail; frankly I could get myself into trouble if I start running my mouth-er-fingers about it. Suffice it to say, I am currently spending 100% less time with my children than I was this time last year, and I miss them horrifically. As if ย part of my soul has been removed and is elsewhere, being tortured.

What I’m left with is entirely too much time in my own head. However I had such a happy memory as a result of these mandalas today I couldn’t help but share it. As I scanned the images from her book into my computer so that I may print and color them, or perhaps even play with them in Photoshop or Painter Pro 2 (? some similar program my mom has on her computer. I actually rather like it. If anyone knows anything about it, please let me know. I don’t quite have the hang of it, but I’m ok with basic stuff) or MAYBE one of these days I’ll get into the correct frame of mind and draw some from scratch.ย Regardless,ย  I was scanning, and my dear friend puts on a song, asking if I’ve ever heard it.

 

This was the highlight of my day. I used to play this song every morning while I made breakfast for the girls and I. We would sing it and dance around the kitchen even during the darkest of my PPD days. It was how I coped with the fact that I had to get through another day. How I got my blood flowing. And my babies were so sweet dancing around with me, singing along. The best was when DDa would, out of nowhere bust into song: “BLAME IT ON MY ADD, BABY!”

Like the waves during high tide, I was pounded with memories. They flooded my mind and touched all of my senses. Snuggling and watching The Lorax 800 times, playing in the inflatable pool with our old neighbor, tearing up Kale chips like there was no tomorrow and laughing, singing and dancing. Just thinking of these times I am sitting and smiling, probably for the first time all day.

I have some pretty shitty ones, but right now I am immeasurably grateful for my memories because they are all I have to hold on to. I miss my babies. I can’t wait until they come home. So if you’re so inclined, perhaps say a prayer, burn a candle, recite an incantation or chant so the Powers That Be may understand, and know to allow them to come back to me. I appreciate it, and I know that even though I can’t ask them, that my sweet little monkees do too.

โค

 

Makin’ Moves

*HUUUUGE SIIIGHHH*

Finally sitting down. My mom and I have been steadily making progress for about 5 hours.
Ok that’s not true. My mom did awesome. I pouted for a while, had a temper tantrum, played with my phone, and wandered semi-aimlessly around my living room and picked apart my coat closet, replacing and tossing random stuff I haven’t been able to categorize for the past two moves.

Here I go. Moving again. Back home. With my mom. And my two little monkees. This should be interesting.

The good news is, I have a part time job, my mom is an absolute saint, and I finally feel like I’m getting out of this bad relationship-depression-anxiety-stagnation rut I’ve been in.
The bad news is, I’m still totally freaking out. My acceptance level is very low, I’m bitter and resentful and acting like a brat. I need to get over myself. It’s not about me anymore. I have two little angels who need me to be strong and loving and help make this a smooth transition. It’s hard enough on them that they don’t see their dad every day. It’s hardest on my older daughter. It breaks my heart. It makes me second guess myself.

In my heart I know this is right. I know we will be better for it. Everything will work out. I just need to keep reminding myself and being reminded by all of you wonderful people.

I’m taking my tired old butt to bed. Moving sucks.

*THUD!* (head hitting pillow)

Mirena, PPD, or both?

I started writing this about two months ago. I had initially not posted it because I wasn’t “feeling it”. Two months later I’m starting to feel like my normal self again, and decided this needed to be posted.

Post Partum Depression is a serious subject and is often not recognized/treated until there’s some kind of crisis involved. At least, that’s how it went for me. If you have struggled with PPD or anything similar, I’d love for you to comment on what helped you and how you realized that something was not right. I’m interested in what you have to say.

So here’s the story:

September 13, 2012

Well, it’s been a bit over a month since I had the Mirena hormonal IUD removed. I am highly disappointed to report that not all of my symptoms have disappeared.
Panic
Anxiety
Depression
Apathy
Inability to start tasks
Inability to complete tasks
Hopelessness
Palpitations
Rage
Lightheadedness
Dizziness

Extreme Fatigue
BO requiring 2-3 applications of deodorant application per day. Prior to this I barely needed it at all. I tried 6 different brands marketed for both males and females and none were effective. (sorry if that’s tmi for you)
Thinning hair-clumps falling out daily
Peeling fingernails

Weird swelling in hand (one spot on each hand would would puff up and have a burning sensation. There were no changes in lotion, soaps, etc)
Upset stomach (nausea)
Stomach pains
Abdominal pain
Stabbing pains in uterus

Memory loss
Poor vision
Vision disturbances

Joint pain
Impatience
Severe mood swings
No libido
Always cold
Cystic Acne (had this while on other BC)
Shaking/tremors (hand)
Stabbing pain in head
Pain during sex
Shaky when hungry (even if I had just eaten a meal a short time ago. Note: I was once diagnosed with mild hypoglycemia but it was never EVER to the point where I’d be shaking if I wasn’t eating every hour)

The ones in bold are better. The rest apparently fit the criteria for Post Partum Depression.*

Well SHIT. NOT what I expected there.

I made some calls. Had several trips to the ER for panic attacks. Called the NJ Speak Up When You’re Down hotline for PPD, who helped me get set up in a support group and with psych services in my area. They’ve helped me apply for a grant to pay for those services through a local mental health center. In the meantime I’ve been seeing a wonderfully attentive Nurse Practitioner who is helping me get the remaining symptoms to a point of manageability.Things are improving slowly. What I hate the most is the medication issue. I CLEARLY need medication. Unfortunately, to treat my variety of symptoms effectively, several medications were needed. Which led me to make the decision to gently wean my youngest daughter sooner than intended. I had made it past the one year mark, and that’s something to be proud of. Still, it’s sad for me, and I’m sure my little Bean is missing the all access pass she once held.

*some of these symptoms can also be explained by thyroid issues, but I had that checked too and mine wasn’t the issue.

Update 11/15/12

Things finally seem to be normalizing. After several months, different combinations of medications, support groups both online and in person (I only made it to that once, but REALLY REALLY love the ladies there and want to go back), talk therapy, essential oil therapy and the end of a less than healthy relationship, I am thrilled to report that I have hope. The suicidal ideations I was experiencing and obsessing over all day have stopped. I am able to laugh and play with my children. I no longer become so overwhelmed at the thought of a task that I can’t even bear to do it. Bits and pieces of me are showing up and I’m starting to learn who I am. I’m finding my identity as a mother and a woman. It’s kinda cool.

This is not to say I am cured. I am, however, better. Much better.

If you are stuck in it, I feel for you. I know your pain. Please read this and know, it gets better. The most important thing to do is speak up. Ask for help. It makes all of the difference in the world. It was the hardest thing in the world for me to admit that I was not ok. Once I said it though, I couldn’t stop saying it. I am not ok. I am not ok. I am not ok.

Today, I am ok. I hope you are too.

๐Ÿ™‚

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