The Struggle

This post is going to be completely honest. Happiness has always been a struggle for me. My troubles with depression and anxiety started as a teenager. At first it seemed like something that could easily be overcome by forcing myself to be happy. The more years I spent going through many ups and downs, the clearer it became that this was not something I was able to control. After having L, I learned just how serious trying to "tough it out" could be. The added emotions of postpartum became too much to take on without help. I began to talk more openly about my struggles, but was still in denial about the help doctors or medication could offer. In many ways I became sorta recluse. I would stay home on many occasions because I was having a "dark day" and the thought of being around others made me almost sick. I began to shut friends and family out, because I found it simpler to stay in my own little "world". I became great at excuses, or at least I thought I was. The harder I pushed real life away, the easier it became to deny I had a problem.

I worry constantly about my appearance, and how others will judge me. I am rarely comfortable in social situations, and probably come off to others as a bitc* or someone who doesn't know how to have fun. The truth is I typically cannot bare to let myself go. I fear people will not like me. I feel they will have thoughts about my weight and appearance. I fear that if I try too hard, I will end up being disappointed.

The people I do allow in have a hard time understanding the ups and downs of depression. They want to know what is "wrong", when I can hardly explain it in my own mind. Most of the time I am just sad, and that is the only answer I can give them. One day I can be excited and fun, wanting to go out and explore the world. The next I can be quite and emotional, wanting to hide in the protection of my home. There is no explanation that will make sense to someone else, because it never makes sense to me.

During my pregnancy with D, I think I received a blessing in disguise. I started to have panic attacks fairly regularly, over things as simple as deciding what to feed L for lunch. The fact that I love my children so much FORCED me to seek help. I was worried if I let it go on too long that it would in someway hurt D. I saw my physician and started taking medication to help with the panic attacks. I have continued taking this medication because it also helps with my day to day troubles. Of course, in the beginning needing a pill to feel "normal" and balanced felt extremely shameful. I worried that people would think I was crazy, and unable to regulate my feelings on my own. Now I understand for me, it seems to be a necessary part of life. Its like taking vitamins or an anti-biotic, it keeps me healthy.

I still have bad days, but not nearly as many. I am able to enjoy life a little more all of the time. My emotions still get the best of me sometimes, but now I do not get so angry with my self for being that way. I start fresh everyday. I try to do the best I can. I work on my social fears, and body image. When life becomes overwhelming I talk to the people who love me the most, value their words of encouragement, and pray for peace to come quickly.

You may wonder why I feel it necessary to write openly about this topic, and share my thoughts on-line. The only answer I can give is because it is the truth. I want other people, who may be struggling with the same issues, to know that they are not alone. During the "dark days" it is hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it does get better.