A Surprisingly Sane Blog

So, has it really come to this?  I guess, much to my utter despair, it has.

I know I’ve been depressed.  I had postpartum depression after Julie, and I know I’ve been struggling for the last few months after having April.  What I didn’t realize is how bad it supposedly is.

James decided to contact Lisa (midwife) by email to let her know his concerns.  He read me the email, and I felt ill.  But that made me a fraction as ill as her response to him.  Just thinking about it is sending shivers down the back of my neck.  That ice cold feeling you get in your spine when you are truly terrified.

I *am* truly terrified.

I am apparently a danger to myself and action needs to be taken immediately.  Whether I go kicking and screaming, or willingly.

Does thinking about suicide make one suicidal?  I look back through my blogs and find a few that make me realize how often it is on my mind.  I feel like I wouldn’t actually do it, though, because I don’t want to hurt my family like that.  But apparently, from the sound of Lisa’s response, it’s something that could change very quickly and happen without James (or even myself) even realizing that I’ve hit rock bottom.

I feel really sick about this.

I’ve been in a really bad state for a long time.  James described it best in his email because he can see me from a second-party perspective.  From my end, I just feel oddly wired, numb, angry.

And exhausted.

Even just writing this, I feel fuzzy-headed.  It’s hard for me to look at the computer screen.  My ears feel weird.  I have a headache.  Symptoms of fatigue?  Or is it depression?

Supposedly, post partum depression is particularly dangerous because of the hormones involved.  I admit sometimes I feel a little out of control.  Antsy.  Especially at night.  It’s like a flip is switched and all of a sudden I could almost run a marathon because I have so much nervous and angry energy bursting from my veins.

But does that make me crazy?

James told me tonight that he plans to take immediate action and call a crisis center that Lisa recommended.  I asked- no, begged, really- for him to wait until tomorrow morning.  So I could have a night to digest this.  But he doesn’t want to wait until tomorrow.  He feels just as sick about this as I do, I think.  But I think he’s more sick with worry.  I know I would be if that email from Lisa was about him to me.

The thing that scares me half to death are the things Lisa said that may happen.  Upon seeking help, I will need to be evaluated.  Very likely put on medication.  The worst is that treatment may require hospitalization because I will possibly need to be under supervision when they start me on the psycho drugs.  To keep me safe.  From myself.

And breastfeeding may very likely have to come to an end because of the hormones.  It is likely that they are playing a huge role in my instability.  There is also the fact that most drugs aren’t conducive to breastfeeding.

This, more than anything, just absolutely breaks my heart.  I have worked SO HARD to breastfeed.  Much harder than most women because it is a strange kind of struggle for me.  I hate it.  It feels terrible, it frequently makes me feel wired and strange.  But I stick with it because I know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that it is the best thing for my daughter.  I have struggled with it to do what is best for my baby, and now I very well may be told it isn’t safe, either.  I feel like someone just kicked the wind out of me.

I am an animal again, but this time it isn’t because of a biological phenomenon like natural birth, it’s because I am going from an independent woman into a caged animal where I can be evaluated, monitored.  Because I’m dangerous.  To myself.

Maybe the haze isn’t fatigue or depression.  Maybe it is simply fear.

Tags: Depression

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 at 7:07 pm and is filed under Insanity. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.