A Year With Depression: My Journey with PostPartum Anxiety and Depression

As the title says, I've been struggling with depression and anxiety this past year.  Lately, it hasn't been much of a struggle as it has been more of a win for depression.  Like most things, I'm not sure why this is, as despite my best efforts, it seems to be getting worse.  

Historically, I've always struggled a bit with anxiety and depression, so after Brixton was born, I was vigilant to watch out for signs of postpartum depression.  So I watched.  But I didn't see any.  When I looked at the list of symptoms, I didn't see myself.  Yes, I was crying A LOT, I was very emotional and sentimental, but I felt happy.  I was getting enough sleep. I loved my new role as a mom and I didn't feel 'depressed.'

Still..something was off, but I couldn't quite but my finger on it.

It came to light in October after I stopped pumping.  I was on the phone with one of my besties in California when things got serious.  I admitted to her that I wasn't feeling right.  I had been having panic attacks, calling Brendan in the middle of the night sobbing and unable to get my words out, so overcome with fear that I felt paralyzed.  I had horrible thoughts of someone breaking into our home and hurting or killing me.  I can't count how many hours I laid awake, listening to what I was certain was a shadowy figure with a glinting knife coming to stab me.  

I was afraid of simple things like going out on walks on windy days, for fear that a tree branch would fall on me.  At the gym I would suddenly have an overwhelmingly chilling feeling that someone was walking up behind me with a gun and they were going to shoot me in the head.

Most disturbingly, I was having thoughts about me being dead.  Specifically, hanging from the cords you use to pull the blinds up.  I wasn't thinking about hanging myself, it wasn't a suicidal thing, it was more that I would "see" myself hanging there.

I told my friend this, even though as I told her I was afraid of what it all meant.  Was I crazy?  A bad mom?  She let me know this wasn't normal, even after having a baby.  I started investigating, because I still wasn't fitting into the mold of having postpartum depression.  

I did some research and found that a small percent of women get postpartum anxiety.  Did you know this?  I sure didn't.  Some of the hallmarks of postpartum anxiety are: extreme anxiety, panic attacks, and intrusive thoughts (thoughts that just randomly pop in your head for no reason, like seeing yourself hanging from a cord).  Some women experience thoughts about all the things that could harm their baby, including themselves.  This is different than wanting or planning to harm your baby, this is realizing all the ways you can harm your baby (like dropping them).  I did not experience this. 
I thought I might be on track to figuring out what was wrong with me, but I didn't do anything about it.  We were busy.  Life went on its merry way.  The holidays were coming.

The anxiety was still with me even though it had a name now and I knew I wasn't crazy, but on top of it I was developing good old plain depression.  In December I would just sit on the couch blankly staring.  I was tired all the time.  I just felt sad. I would shower once a week. The word depression is the perfect description of the condition, I felt like something was literally weighing down on me, affecting my ability to do things.  

After about a month, Brendan had had enough. He insisted I get some help, because he didn't know what to do for me.  And we were fighting.  All the time.  Anxiety doesn't just manifest itself as worry, it also turns into irritability, anger, rage.  I wasn't taking that out on Brixton, so Brendan was the easiest target.  That wasn't making anything easier for anyone and it just added to the stress, anxiety, and depression I was already feeling.

I started seeing a doctor in December.  As it goes, she wanted to put me on medication immediately upon my first visit.  I hate that.  I don't mind medication, but why the rush?  Especially since I wasn't suicidal or asking for it.  It bothers me that they never ask about eating and exercise habits either.  Those things factor in big time when it has to do with your mood and brain chemistry.  The fact I had had a baby 7 months prior didn't seem to matter (which makes no sense to me at all).

I declined the drugs.  

Around this time I stopped eating sugar and I was exercising a lot.  I felt really good and my mood improved (and I lost 5 lbs!) Brendan noticed a big change. 

A month went by.  I met with the doctor a few times, still refusing drugs until there was an official diagnosis.  After some testing (ink blots and about 400 questions--kind of fun, really, and very interesting) I was diagnosed with major depression and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I agreed to take a very minimal dose of anti-depressants, which seemed to initially help me even more. But then I started eating sugar again and stopped exercising, which made me feel worse again (and I gained back 4 lbs...boo).  


So here I am.  Still struggling with this, knowing that if I cut out sugar and start exercising that I'll feel heaps better, but feeling so unmotivated and low that I am having a hard time starting.  


I wish I had known more about postpartum anxiety and had been able to see what was happening to me in those early months.  I felt so out of control, so afraid and overwhelmed.  Plus, it's not easy to tell people you thinking about yourself hanging from a cord without sounding like it's a cry for help.  Maybe I would have gotten help sooner and could have avoided some of this.  


I didn't really want to share this on my blog, which is why I'm writing about it 6 months after it started.  It's kind of an overshare in my opinion, but part of me doesn't mind being honest about this.  There's no shame in it and someone out there might need help.  

If that's you, if you are experiencing depression or anxiety, please know you aren't alone.  There is help available to you. 
I only encourage you to look at all aspects of your life, including diet and exercise to see if those things can be improved before popping a pill.  

When things get too tough, when I feel overwhelmed and just want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep for 100 years, I just think of this:

and it's enough to get me through..and he doesn't come in pill form.