Hope and Empowerment

In the last week I have done a lot of reading, and a lot of soul searching, and basically, a lot of hoping.

Since I first started suffering anxiety, it has not been a constant in my life; to be honest I've probably only suffered for around 4-5months in total. This can be both a blessing and a curse, obviously because I don't suffer it all the time, my life is pretty good; however, the randomness of when it comes means that I don't have a lot of reserves for it. I don't have ways to live with it every day, so when it hits me, it hits me bad. In my experiences, I'v only had the depressive symptoms 3 times - when they come I'm slammed, and can't function for a few days to a week, then I bounce quickly. Thank God for the Bounce!

Yesterday I went to my Psych appointment, where I talk with a woman whom I adore, she boosts my confidence, and explains things so well; I feel very safe with her. I was telling her about the plans that I was putting into motion - meditating, blogging, reading a lot of buddhism papers and articles, getting exercise and maintaining hope - all the things that get me better, and will hopefully keep me better.

A massive source of calm for me at the moment is the research and reading I'm doing on Buddhism, and it's beautiful, calm sense of life; I'm hoping to attend a 2 day retreat at the end of this month that is run by 2 buddhists, who are both clinical psychologist - in fact I'm desperate to go.  A major factor in Buddhist belief is living in the now, or mindfulness; which means to focus solely on the present, not to live in the past or the future, as a way to restore calm to the body and mind. I know I have a lot more research to do, but as someone who struggles with a religious faith, I feel that this sense of spirituality speaks to me on many different levels; and I just know that it can only do me good.

This morning upon waking, I did feel the pull of dread in my abdomen, of being solely responsible for getting my kids to school (ridiculous isn't it, I've literally done it hundreds of times!), so I made myself get up and do what I had to do...

  GET UP, DRESS UP, SHOW UP.

So I did, and of course I was fine - but the mind can be a nasty bitch who tells you you wont be. Admittedly, I didn't feel completely up to dealing with many people, so I didn't stop for petrol, and I'm now hoping I make it back to school this afternoon without breaking down... 

When I got home, I told myself there were going to be no naps today, that to boost energy, I had to use energy, with the bonus of lying on the trampoline this afternoon in the sun if I'd done the things I need to do. So I wrote my list of things to achieve today, I made a cup of tea and wandered down into the paddock; standing in the sun, I watched my chickens, goats and dogs, and felt lucky. You know what? Yes, I have a mental illness, but I also have a 100% survival rate; I am strong. And I will not feel like a failure. My strength is the reason I'm still here, I'm still kicking, and damn it, I'm still hoping. Today is ok, tomorrow may be shit; but I wont know until it's here, so I'm going to try not to stress about it; or it may be wonderful, and another stepping stone to feeling great again. But I'm grateful I'm here to find out.

The present...

I'm jumping ahead a little bit now, and want to talk about this year - I'll fill in the gaps of 2011/12, but I want to write about the present.

In around April this year, I started to get anxiety back again - my Dad was redeploying to Afghanistan, and this rotation had me really stressed; my fear of losing him clouded alot of my judgement, and I would find myself anxious or in tears when nothing in particular had set me off. My worries have lessened somewhat, but I desperately want him to come home, where I can talk to him whenever I want to, and know that he is safe.

When this anxiety started playing up again, I decided it was not going to beat me again, and I started walking everyday. I loved it so much, and was racking up enormous kilometres, and feeling wonderful. After walking over 100km in 10 days, I fractured my tibia and couldn't even weight bear - I lay around feeling sorry for myself in enormous pain. About 2 weeks into it, I demanded better pain killers from my Dr, and was put on panadeine forte, something I'd had easily before, but not in many years. Within 15 minutes of taking my tablets, I was writhing around on my bed, in intense agony, shaking and vomiting, I could hardly breathe. Mum put me into her car to take me to hospital, D stayed at home with the kids and friends that we had over for the 2nd state of origin. Within a minute of being in the car, I had worsened, Mum called the ambulance and turned around to wait in our driveway for them, by the time she stopped the car, I was unconscious.  Mum yelled for D, who pulled me out of the car and lay me on the driveway where he continued to make sure I was breathing etc. Once the ambulance arrived, an IV was inserted on my driveway, it contained morphine and ondansetron to stop the pain and spewing; then we went off to hospital, where we discovered I was now highly allergic to codeine, a relatively common throwback of having your gall bladder removed.  After a few hours we were sent home, and I went straight to bed.

To most people, this would just be seen as a case of pretty bad luck; to me, it increased my anxiety 10 fold, yet again my body was failing and I wondered if this would be the case for the rest of my life. After my horrible pregnancies, and subsequent illness with M, sickness causes me a lot of stress - memories floor me of not being able to get better immediately, and an immense feeling of being trapped. Obviously with a pregnancy, the only ways to get better are to deliver or terminate, I was trapped in a sick body for 9 months; and with my illness after M, I was doing all the injections, taking all the meds, and yet my physical recovery was very slow.  Every illness I get, especially with nausea, send me into a bit of a funk; a lot of a funk really. Now I stress about getting sick, and suffering, which only increases my body's chances of getting sick so it's a bit of a nasty cycle. I have struggled for years with lack of energy, fatigue and being unmotivated - you can't understand how exhausting it is to suffer mental illness if you don't have it, it literally drains your entire being.

Physically, the pain of my fractured tibia decreased, but the mental pains are still remaining. I feel very unmotivated, and have no energy - I could sleep all day; and have struggled in the last week to even maintain functionality. I have a lot of fears - fear of failing my children, fear of never getting better, fear of not enjoying my life, fear of dying and a fear of loss. Many people wouldn't understand that sometimes when I look at my positives, my beautiful kids, I see fear. I see the fear of them struggling with mental health issues, or judging me later on and finding me wanting, of not being good enough for them, and of fucking them up in some way. I see the fear of losing them and it floors me. I fear that people judge me as a Mother for having had depression, that I somehow wasn't good enough, or didn't love my kids enough; when sometimes my love for them feels suffocating it's so intense; they are my entire life.

I never wanted mental illness, and everyday that it affects me, I wish it was different; I struggle some days to remind myself that I'm not at fault. That it's not another failure. I pray and hope that one day I will be completely free of anxiety and fear; so that I can feel that I am being the best I can be again. I pray that I will stop judging myself so harshly, and stop replaying others judgement in my head. I want mental freedom - I want to enjoy the time I have here on Earth and not worry about things i cannot change. Only I can do that for myself, but sometimes knowing someone understands me goes a long way.

I saw a beautiful meme on the computer on day it said....

I Don't want you to fix my life,

I want you to hold my Hand, whilst I do it.

a lot of the time, sufferers of this illness just need to know they are supported, that someone will hold their hand, without judgement, whilst they fix themselves.

2010 - Different Shades of Loss

The beginning of 2010 was as positive as the year before - my babies were happy and healthy; and D had started his new job which seemed to make him so much happier.

In early 2010, (maybe April?), one of my best friends, K, decided that she no longer wanted me as a part of her life - and I was given no answers as to why. This was somebody that I considered a sister; that I had nursed through depression, dodgy pregnancies, break ups, everything. I ached when I received a gutless text thanking me for years of friendship, but basically, I never want to see you again. My anxiety flared. I was given no answers, and questioned everything about myself; had I been a bad friend? Did I do something wrong? I never knew, and was never given a chance to either apologise or defend.

In May 2010, this person that I had given so much of myself to, turned another friend against me; a friend who only th year before had lived with my family, with her own son, as she battled depression. The anger and sadness raged in me - yes, I had faults, but I was always a good friend, and I was being told the opposite.

Whilst these events threw me, and gave me moments of anxiety, the main emotion I felt was anger - which led to bitterness and resentment; two feelings that I have worked on ridding myself of in the last few years (not always successfully, but I'm doing pretty good!). I have come to the conclusion that these emotions lead to nothing but bad health - I read somewhere that holding resentment towards someone is like drinking poison, and expecting it to kill the other person.

The other big events of early 2010 were around my health, which had been very dodgy after my anaemia (my levels were so low that they destroyed my immune system - I was told I would have around 3 years of suppressed immunity); so basically, I would get every bug/germ/lurgy that was going around - which was exhausting! In May or June I got a run of the mill kidney infection, and was put on antibiotics; which I ended up being ridiculously allergic to - my body swelled, I was covered in a rash, I vomited etc. The worst reaction though was the 13.5cm blood clot it left in my left calf muscle - the first recorded blood clot in response to this antibiotic. I started warfarin, and had to inject Clexane into my own stomach; as well as daily blood tests, as we couldn't get my levels to balance. This started my anxiety again, and I lost a lot of confidence - my body just kept on failing!

Pretty much the main component, or response of my anxiety is to get anxious about driving; not my capability, as I am a very competent driver, but of my ability to stay focused. I tend to stick to my 'safe places' when I'm anxious, as anywhere that is really busy causes me stress, that I might lose attention or faint or something, and hurt my family or someone else's. I completely stop driving on freeways and bridges when I'm like this - although some bridges had been a struggle regardless thanks to the gateway panic attack!

After overcoming these fears, yet again, I got a different ailment (really?!?) - I was rushed to the hospital early one morning in September in ridiculous pain, vomiting acid. My gallbladder had to be removed by emergency surgery - amazingly, this caused me no anxiety. I think D was worse as I was wheeled in, he was very stressed, but I was doing Ok! A week later and I was all good - unless I ate something fatty or oily but that's a whole different story!

Life was great again.. for 2 weeks.

On Friday October 1st 2010, D, myself and the kids went to D's cousin L's house, where he lived with his divine fiance, G; they had just moved in and we were going over to celebrate. My bestie, C and her partner, J were also there. We had a great night having a few drinks ( I was driving), fire twirling and laughing; we went home at 1am.

At 8am the next morning, D woke me up. G was dead. I remember jumping out of bed and screaming 'WHAT'??? A million thoughts ran through my head as I rang C, she must have had a heart attack?? But she was incredibly vibrant and healthy, a truly amazing person. Then the call came, she had hung herself. The shock reverberated between each of us that knew her, the happiest, most beautiful person I'd ever met, with the world at her feet.

We drove to the house, where her body was being wheeled out by the coroners; there was to be an inquest. L was in turmoil and became our centre of focus; we had to make sure he survived this. L and D are cousins, but closer than brothers, and L's pain hit D hard - he stayed with L for the majority of a month, and our lives were very upside down.

Surprisingly during this time, I only had one moment of anxiety, I think I was too busy to let my mind wander; and I was able to do everything that was needed of me at the time , and more.  The only thing I dwelled on was wondering if there'd been any signs? Had we missed something? None of us could come up with any, and grief was mixed with a lot of confusion.

The only thing I was grateful for during this time, was that something had stopped me. That I hadn't inflicted the pain on my loved ones, that was now being inflicted on us. I will always be thankful that my soul had that strength - I just wish it hadn't taken this horrid event to show me how strong I had been. I resolved to always be open and honest about my depression - not only to ease my own struggles, but so that nobody ever thought they were alone in theirs.

Our Beautiful Girl - Resting in Paradise

The first year of recovery...

January 2009 turned out so much better than i had imagined in my wildest dreams, my recovery was happening in leaps and bounds! I still wasn't going anywhere on my own, but I was comfortable to be out with people I felt safe with.

The first massive achievement was going on a girls night at Ravensborne with my most cherished friends, C, E and DC; we stayed at C's Mum's place, just the 4 of us. It was my first night actually away from both of my babies, and I was definitely nervous, but it was wonderful to feel like me again; we went bushwalking, swimming in water holes, had a few drinks and just relaxed together. It felt like my soul was starting to settle.

Later on that month, a group of us, 10 + kids, stayed on the Sunshine Coast for the Australia Day long weekend in a big beach house; again I felt like myself, I didn't experience anxiety, and was a very active part in all the festivities and responsibilities. In my own head, I couldn't imagine how I had felt just 2 months earlier, it felt like a lifetime ago.

My recovery after the initial breakdown was very swift; and I made my first lone-roadtrip with the kids to Mum's property in NSW in February - I left very early in the morning to try to avoid most motorway traffic, but I did it! And it felt amazing!

Soon, things were running as though I had never been sick; I took my ADs (a very low 10mg dose); and was comfortable being my childrens' primary carer on my own again! I quickly settled into my old routines of being other people's strength; if my friends needed me, I was there; if anything needed doing, I was there. It felt wonderful.

That August, I was required to open my Mum's cafe in Nimbin; it had just been purchased, and massive changes had been put in place; other circumstances meant that Mum was not able to do it herself. D had recently left his job, which he hated, and we had sold his townhouse; which meant that we were able to stay in NSW for 6 or so weeks whilst the cafe got on its feet. It was so empowering for me to manage and reopen the business, i had meetings with suppliers, where I would aggressively challenge them for better deals; I dealt with staffing dramas ( in Nimbin - shudder) and also abuse from the not-so-with-it locals. I loved it.

So, 2009 ended up being pretty awesome really; I was so thankful that somewhere inside me, something stopped me from harming myself the year before; sure there were still some days that I would be a bit nervous, or lacking in motivation or energy; but in the end, we were all ok.

The first few months after diagnosis...

After my severe-anaemia diagnosis, my depression worsened; and I refused medication. In my head, anti-depressants were yet another failure, they were for the weak; and as a previously very strong person, I was determined that I was not 'one of those' people. I could get through this with my own personal strength. How ignorant of me! For 8 weeks I battled - nights where I couldn't sleep, days where all I could do was sleep, the constant churning of stomach acid, the headaches, the body tension, the total mind-fuck of it all. There were nights that I gave myself time lines... in 6 months if you're like this, we overdose.... no, 3 months, I can't do 6. It was horrific; truly something I would never wish on my worst enemy.

In that 8 weeks myself and my babies were dependant on other people; I'm an only child, so no siblings to share the load with me; my Mum was in Iraq, and the only people I truly had day-to-day were D and my Grandma, GG.  I would be at GG's house everyday whilst D worked, with the babies; if I was sleeping, her and my GP did bottles, naps, plays, everything. Without them, I can truly say we wouldn't have survived. In that time, I couldn't go anywhere, I was severely agoraphobic; just walking into the Drs from the car was such a challenge for me - I would have headspins, hot and cold flushes, and feel very faint and teary. In fact there were days that walking to my letter box would literally make me vomit.Obviously I was not capable of driving, so in every sense, I was dependant on other people.

For those that know me, they remember that I used to be fiercely independent, I loved nothing more than taking off in my car for hours, I travelled Europe on my own and was a very confident person; so the change to becoming so unbelievably dependant was humiliating.

In November 2008, we had M's Christening, something I had organised before I got sick; I was so terrified of standing up in front of people in a church, and these were all my loved ones!! I had someone tell me the day before the Christening, to not go, as I would ruin the day for everyone; this made me feel like a worthless piece of shit. I would never be able to forgive myself for missing my baby girls Christening. That day I woke up and I didn't feel to bad, then the closer the time got to leaving, the worse I got; by the time I was at the church, I was a wreck, and demanded to be taken to my MILs house, who lives just near the Church. I promptly fell asleep, to be woken by my GG who had shown up to force me to get out. She literally forced me, with me swearing and screaming that I couldn't do it; when we got to the church, I sat in the back pew with my Aunt, and I felt such massive accomplishment for being there amongst my family and friends. I felt like my old self - even getting up and making a speech in front of everyone!!

Th next day was the biggest come down yet, unfortunately, with great heights, came massive depths.  My Mum was staying with us at the time, she had come back for the Christening, and she made me swallow my first ever antidepressants; the ones that had been prescribed 8 weeks ago and had never taken. Those first few days on the ADs were pretty bad; my head was literally buzzing, and I would lie on my front verandah with a wet face washer on my head to try and stop the pain; but I continued with them.

Two weeks into taking the ADs I started feeling  better, obviously not 100%, but I could definately feel a difference; I was ready to go out and face the world again. My first forays out were with D, we would go Christmas shopping at Brookside, the first times I wouldn't leave his side, but then I started to wander off from him, as long as he was still in my line of vision. This continued for a while, but probably not as long as I suspected it would (to be honest, when you're in the midst of depressions, it feels permanent - so any amount of time was shorter than i suspected!). It was so amazing to start to feel human again, to be able to be an active part of my babies lives, and even to hugely enjoy Christmas!!

And then depression set in...

Welcome!

I am a 29 year old mother to two beautiful (annoying, horrible, trying) children, aged 5 and 6; I am also engaged to a wonderful (annoying, horrible, trying ;) ) man, with whom I am very lucky to be able to share my ups and downs with.

Motherhood has not been an easy road for me in many ways - I was 21 when I fell pregnant with X, it was unexpected and the (incredibly loved) result of irresponsibility. From day dot in my pregnancy I was incredibly sick, soul-destroyingly sick to be honest; I was terrified; I constantly vomited, fainted, had acid reflux and a swollen spine. This lasted until delivery. The depression when it hit was intense, I had never experienced anything like it, but would challenge pretty much anyone who was in my position to feel any different; my sickness was so all consuming that I left university, went months without working, and was often house bound.  I don't think you can truly appreciate how bad a pregnancy can be unless you go through a horror one -I had the old 'you're not sick, you're pregnant' thrown at me, and all it did was culminate my feelings of failure - in my head, I had done pregnancy so badly that surely I was going to fail at mothering too.  I think that my pregnancy with X started my obsession with my children, and that I wasn't good enough for them; that no matter how intense my love for them was (and it was intense from extremely early in the pregnancy), they would always deserve better. These feelings still rear their ugly head when I am down now.

Luckily, with X's delivery came freedom again, I was so incredibly happy and in love with my tiny son; he was, and still is, my everything. I have never experienced a love so consuming as what I did for X, with that came it's own sets of fears. what will I do if something ever happens to him? How do I keep him safe from everything? How do I stop him growing so he'll always be my baby?? Thankfully these only popped into my had when I was sleep-deprived! The first year and a half of X's life was incredible - I had no anxiety or depression, and I simply basked in the glory of my son, and of motherhood.

When X was 10 months old, I found out that i was pregnant again - after the initial excitement, the harsh reality set in. Another pregnancy. My partner, D, and I openly discussed termination; we weren't ready to go through another 9 months of hell, and we both believed that X should be our priority at the time. Ultimately, I couldn't go through with a termination, and the pregnancy continued - it was still intense, but not as bad as X's; maybe having him there was my saving grace - i could focus on him, and the ultimate outcome of my pregnancy.  M was born 18 months to the day after X, her c/section was very empowering, and again my love for her rendered me speechless; my precious, ginger baby girl.

The first 12 weeks of M's life were the best of my life, I felt on top of the world with my tiny girl and my incredible blue-eyed boy - I couldn't believe how lucky i was to feel so amazing. 

Then out of nowhere, I was exhausted - I felt like I could barely function. I blamed it on being the mum of 2 very young little people. But it was more than that. One morning driving over the gateway bridge, my first full-blown panic attack hit; I was at the peak of the bridge, with my 2 babies in the back seat, and i thought we were all going to die. I wound down all the windows and tried to focus on just getting us over the bridge - i felt i was either going to stop and cause an accident, or drive over the edge to our deaths. It was the scariest moment of my life, hands down. I reached my destination and felt so depleted of energy, but ignored the signs, simply believing i was just tired. A few days later, I was asked to do a few shifts at work in the city, I jumped at the chance. The first shift I had, I was so overwhelmed - the people, the smells and being away from my babies. Driving home, I was again hit by all-consuming panic. I felt trapped in my car, with no one around to take responsibility for me. I pulled over and my MIL came to get me; she voiced her concerns that i was getting PND, and that i needed to see my Dr. 

*WARNING - CAN BE CONFRONTING*

Seeing my Gp was my lifesaver, after many blood tests, it was discovered that every iota of iron had been depleted from my body; my levels were the lowest my medical practitioners had ever seen. I don't think i had ever been so glad to find out there was something wrong with me - it meant i wasn't just crazy. I started on iron injections every second day (these were accompanied by anti-nausea injections, as they made me vomit); as well as VIT D tablets which i was also very deficient in. Then the depression set in, and my anxiety was unspeakable - I could not be left alone, and was in a constant state of terror; thoughts of suicide were a constant soundtrack in my head, which led to thoughts of infanticide. My logic was that my children could never be hurt by the cruelties of life, if i took them out first, and then myself - unlike many PND sufferers, i never became disengaged from my children, I became more and more obsessive.  These thought terrified me, and so began the very long (and still continuing) road to recovery began.