Depression

These days

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Image

These days I’m feeling better and dare I say happy at times? I told Nancy this and she was thrilled for me which I thought was really sweet.

The picture I posted is me at a recent festival/fair I attended to promote my business. I am a personal shopper specializing…wait for it…specializing in the thrift! Yes I am :). I have a website http://www.nayaudo.com where I have some of my current inventory. I mainly take requests of a designer or style of clothing one is searching for. If I find it at the thrift my cost is low so your (the customer) price is low as well. I’m more than happy to look for just about anything for anyone. Clothes and shoes though let’s not get carried away.

So getting back to me being happy. I don’t feel odd or euphoric I just feel like “me” and it’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. I’m not 100% and still on the quiet side and I can get lost in my thoughts and insecurities. But I’ve learned to open up a bit especially to Tommy. I take medication too, something I neverever in a million years thought I would do. Part of me felt like a hypocrite as I was terrified of meds, meanwhile my son takes meds. I’m over that now and honestly if I need meds for years or however long my doctor feels necessary I’m ok with that. Depression is effin serious man.

I had thoughts and said things when I was depressed that I couldn’t imagine thinking or saying when I’m just “me”.
Depression is real, it’s more than feeling blue and you can do something or treat yourself to snap out of it. It’s dark and scary and can be dangerous and not a place I want to revisit.

As scary as depression is asking for help can be almost equally as scary. It was for me anyway. As I waited for the elevator to see my psychiatrist the first time I wanted to throw up. I was so, so nervous. But once I was in his office and completely honest about what I was thinking and how I felt, I wasn’t afraid anymore, actually it was good to get it out to someone I knew wouldn’t judge me and wasn’t afraid of what I was saying. I have a wonderful doctor and I’m sure I’m fortunate to have found him without much searching. He is in Manhattan so I have a small commute but it is so worth it, plus there’s a Goodwill across the street. ;).

Keeping the faith

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I have to say when I was at my lowest during my depression is when I would feel so far from God.  I wasn’t angry with him but it was difficult to pray and worship, but…once I started it was wonderful and I would remember how much I wanted to praise Him and thank The Lord for literally holding me up because I know I wasn’t standing on my feet due to my own strength.   I listen to contemporary Christian music when I’m home and especially in the car.  Those songs were gentle reminders of the grace our Lord has gifted to us as well as reminding me I wasn’t as useless and a loser as I thought I was.  That God The Father does love me.  

There was one particular time I was on my way to visit Thomas at the hospital. I was by myself for the 2 hour ride and found a Christian radio station that broadcasted sermons about a half hour long each. I believe this was either just before or just as I was starting to see Nancy and Dr. L. The Pastor on the radio was talking about suicide. That some religions believe you will go to hell if you commit suicide. This Pastor didn’t believe that instead he talked about how your body is a gift from God and how could you destroy that gift? He kept enforcing our body was this “gift” and you don’t destroy something from God. I can honestly say this Pastor saved my life. I was such a mess at that time and kept it all to myself, I didn’t have the words and everything seemed overwhelming. I believed friends and family were afraid of me that they didn’t know what to say to me. My dearest friend Jackie called me when it seemed I was feeling so alone. Every. Time. That was The Lord directing her. No doubt about it.

Every day my husband would text me, morning and afternoon to make sure I was “ok”. When I was with my husband was the only time I felt “safe”. He still texts me every morning.

One of the women I used to attend Bible study with called me just about every week to say hello and ask how I was. Many times I could barely answer her to say “I’m fine” or I would start crying. I’ve told her she helped save my life with those short, weekly phone calls. She was absolutely being guided by the Holy Spirit and I’ll never be able to thank her enough.

Cheryl the pastor’s wife told me she had me in her prayers when I never even knew it.

The Lord was with me, holding me up when I needed him to. He sent radio Pastors and friends long distance and close by to let me know I was not alone. He gave me a thoughtful husband. All the little things add up and can only equal the work of Him.

What to do with myself?

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When September, 2012 came around I decided we/I needed a break from running around.  I didn’t encourage any extracurricular activities and thankfully it went unnoticed by the girls, until around November.  The thought of running here and there like I did last year was too much to even think about never mind actually do. The year before the girls had taken gymnastics and even Thomas has a class which was run by “On Your Mark” an agency that serves the developmentally disabled. I thought it was the coolest that he was in that class and so did the girls but after a few hospitalizations Thomas refused to go and no amount of pleading or cajoling would change his mind.

If Tommy was home I would take the girls and stay to watch them in the waiting room of the gym. Most times there was all this small talk and chit chat from the other parents waiting. I couldn’t talk much or participate my depression was that bad. I would look down or away at anyone who looked my way. To be honest I found most of them annoying. I mean how does one make small talk when the only thing rattling around in your brain is how useless you are? It’s a terrible state to be in. There were many times I sat there holding back tears due to the horrible things I thought about myself.

In the meantime when Alyssa and Daniella were asking me why wouldn’t I talk to anyone. I told them flat out I didn’t like the other parents and I was happy to be alone. Towards the end of the school year I did get friendly with another mother who happens to live around the corner. She is one of those people who I’d call “low maintenance”. She had no drama and pretty much kept to herself as well. Perfect.

I was seeing Dr. L and trialing different meds. Some would work for awhile and then stop working. He would up the dosage, I’d gain weight and get pissed but then the increase would kick in and I could deal with the weight gain. It was a roller coaster and not a fun one at that.

I couldn’t stay home because I would be alone with my thoughts and that wasn’t safe. I couldn’t go to the mall everyday and shop, my husband would’ve had a cow and rightfully so, getting a job was out of the question as I was barely holding it together as it was. This is where the thrift shopping comes in. I could shop or just go through racks on a mad hunt for designer items. I’m guessing I have a very serious face while thrifting. Alyssa came with me a few times and said, “oh my gosh Mom! You should see your face!” That made me laugh and it makes me smile to this day. Not many people talk to me when I’m at the thrift store.

I also became a snobby thrifter. I refused to buy anything I could “afford”. I only wanted things I would never pay retail for as the retail cost of those items are crazed. An example is denim. I would (and still do) only buy premium denim such as Citizens of Humanity, Seven For All Mankind, Madewell, etc… On my birthday I scored a Chanel top. The prices were so low it was awesome.

So there you have it my answer to getting out of the house when you are suffering from depression: Thrift store :).

The Sail School

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So after finding out there was another boy vying for this one open space, Tommy and I were frustrated. We came home and I called Cheryl, the Pastors wife and she prayed for us. About a week or so later Admissions Woman called and made an appointment to bring Thomas up to the school. To say we were hopeful is an understatement.

We arrive and we were met by Admissions Woman and another staff member. For the life of me I can’t remember her name or title. They did a mini assessment of Thomas, asked a few questions and then they asked Tommy to take Thomas out of the room so they could talk to me. It was then I was informed that the other boy had filled the available opening. My face froze, I didn’t know what to say. All I thought of was now I have to explain this to my husband. That he took a day off work for nothing. I couldnt speak, couldn’t even ask them why they had us come there knowing there were no open spots? I thanked them for their time and headed to my husband and son, both waiting in the car. I told Tommy and he was angry. I didn’t blame him. This was in May, 2012.

Fast forward to June, 2012. Admissions woman calls me and says there will be an anticipated opening the end of June. Praise God and endless thanks to our church family for all their prayers. This is perfect timing because Thomas was just admitted to the hospital for aggression towards me. I was given an estimated date of admission to the school. Thomas was discharged from the hospital and we had 2 weeks to get through before the admission to the Sail school. We tried to prepare Thomas the best we could he already knew what is was like to live at a school away from home. My heart hurt even though I knew we couldn’t go on living like this. Thomas went to bed and I stayed with him until he went to sleep, staring at this young man, my child, my first. I cried.

Once again I had to mark my son’s clothes and socks with his initials. I don’t remember much except I did it. The day of admission arrived and I went alone with Thomas. Tommy had to work, he was the only person I would have wanted to go with. I didn’t want to make small talk with anyone or talk period. It was a Thursday. I left the house around 2 pm and there was decent traffic on the George Washington Bridge. It took us at least another hour to arrive. We were late.

When we entered the Sail school we were met by a staff manager, Admissions Woman, and the nurse. Everyone was wonderful. Thomas refused to leave my side for a look around or a tour. I had a ton of paperwork to read and sign, make sure they had his IEP for school, make sure they know due to his meds Thomas needs sunscreen, etc… After a while Thomas grew bored and agreed to go outside to the playground with a staff member. Before I could speak the word “sunscreen” the staff had already put it on Thomas.

One of the hardest things I had to do was give the Nurse Thomas’ meds. I handed over his clothes with no problem but to hand over the medications was really laying down and admitting I couldn’t have him at home anymore. To me handing over his meds was the equivalent of handing them my son and with him my complete trust. The nurse was wonderful and understood when I told her how difficult this was.

After a while there was nothing left to do but go home. All the papers were signed, they had his meds, I gave the school the history they wanted…it was time to leave. I said goodbye to Thomas. He became upset and started crying, I held back tears and after many hugs and goodbyes I left. I ran to my car crying. I sat there. I called Tommy but I don’t remember what we said to each other. After I calmed down I drove home, by myself and I listened to Christian contemporary music.

The next day my stomach became upset and I was sick for 3 days. I cried and cried those 3 days. The Lord was with me as he made sure the girls stayed occupied so I could be sick and cry in peace.

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Spiraling, spiraling

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After my weekend  “in bed”  I knew Monday morning I had to get up to get everyone ready for school.   Thomas was the toughest as he would be aggressive with me upon waking up.  The girls would stay in their rooms until he calmed down a bit.   My alarm would go off and I’d lay there in bed a few minutes petting my cat named Cash, psyching myself up for the task of waking up Thomas.  Cash is one beautiful cat.  Long, white and tan hair with the bluest eyes.  I swear The Lord sent her to me.  We found her as a stray.  

Anyway…mornings sucked. I’d somehow manage to get Thomas up, he dressed himself then give him his meds, breakfast, then wait for the bus. It was not easy or pleasant. Sometimes he calmed down when the bus came sometimes not. The school was aware of what was going on but they couldn’t help me other than assure me about the residential placement we were waiting on.

Living with me at this time was terrible. I was irritable, moody, I had no patience and would snap at anybody. Tommy and I argued quite a bit and I know I was the cause of most of them. I was miserable, I had no joy in my life and felt like a worthless human being with no purpose in life.

Tommy told me I had to find a therapist. I agreed even though I was terrified. We found a list online of psychologists and social workers/therapists that take our insurance and I started calling. I left message after message and NO ONE called me back. Oh wait, one did call me back…a week later. I was so pissed off I told her since she took a week to call me back I wasn’t interested anymore. Not to brag but my husband has excellent health benefits, I felt like I was waving around good insurance for therapy and no one wanted it. It was bizarre.

This went on for weeks. In the middle of it all our church was putting on it’s Easter production, the story of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I’m in the choir and my two older girls were dancers. Any chance I had I went to church, it was my lifeline and escape. I felt safe in church. Performing in the Easter Production was a perfect distraction and gave me a purpose. I found the songs we sang to be so comforting, as well as singing for The Lord.

Singing with the choir wasn’t always so peaceful for me. There were many times I felt like a fraud singing up there. Fearing at any moment someone would point and yell from the congregation, “Fake! Loser! Fraud!” Because I thought so little of myself I figured I was transparent. There was also a time or two when I had to leave church when the choir was singing because Thomas was having a meltdown and Tommy wanted me home.

Finally, finally I started seeing Nancy who I’ve mentioned before. I know The Lord placed her in my life. She is wonderful and just what I need in a therapist. I even enjoy the traveling to her office in Manhattan. When I started seeing Nancy I was a mess and I cried through every one of our early sessions. After a month or so I decided to see the psychiatrist, Dr. L who was treating Thomas. He was fine with seeing both of us. I was scared to death of medication and I made sure Dr. L knew that. He started me off with an anti anxiety medication at a very low dose, after a couple of months I agreed to an antidepressant as well. I had to trust him, I desperately wanted to feel better. I also know Dr. L was placed in my life by The Lord. Things don’t work out in such a “coincidental” way, no they don’t. They are planned by God. The way I look at it, I’m trusting God who put Dr. L in my life so I must trust Dr. L as he was placed in my life by God.

I have to say for me to get to that point of trust was huge. I was so used to trying to control everything with my son. When I finally let go of that control and realized God has his own plan it was a relief

Depression and the spiraling…

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As I mentioned in previous posts living with an aggressive, teenage special needs son was taking it’s toll on me. I remember Thomas being aggressive to me in October 2012 and I felt a distinct “shift” of my mind.  I also had a flashback to when Thomas 4 yrs old and how he used to hit me then too.  It’s so hard to describe that “shift” but it was real.  I felt as if I was “off” but couldn’t put my finger on how I was “off” or describe it to anyone.  By November I remember my husband giving me a hug and me saying, “Nothing feels…right

By December Thomas was hospitalized again. I still had to do Christmas shopping and prepare for the upcoming holiday. I would have panic episodes in the mall while trying to think of gifts for family and friends. It all seemed impossible. The same Christmas shopping I had done by myself for the last 16 years felt like the most enormous, overwhelming task. I would call my husband on his cell to calm me down. He was wonderful and always knew what to say.

We also had to face the possibility that Thomas could be spending Christmas in the hospital, which meant we as his family would be spending it in the hospital with him. The beginning of December was also the time when our church performs a Live Nativity. I’m in the choir. I managed to perform with the choir, honestly I enjoyed it as singing about and celebrating our Lord’s birth was calming and I loved being around my choir friends to take my mind off my life.

For whatever reason our insurance company decided Thomas should be discharged it was at or around December 22. Tommy felt it was the work of God. That divine intervention had him discharged so he could spend Christmas with us and us with him, in our home. The social worker was definite that Thomas was spending the holiday in the hospital, so this news was a shock and surprise. I don’t like to admit this but I didn’t know how to feel. Like I said I was already “off”. To everyone I put on a happy face. But inside I felt nothing. At this time I hadz no idea what was going on with me. Christmas came and went I do remember it was nice, we spent Christmas Eve with Tommy’s family as usual and Christmas Day was spent with my family as usual.

By January I started feeling “less than”. Like I had wasted my life being a stay at home mom. I should have had a career, not spent my life staying home, I called myself every negative name in the book. It was horrible. One weekend I couldn’t contain it anymore and broke down. I went to bed. I never“go to bed” unless I’m physically ill, like the flu or something. But that one weekend I went to bed! And I cried and cried and thought the most negative things about myself. I felt like the most worthless, insignificant, unimportant person in this world. I have tears welling up remembering this. This is depression. This is what it does, it’s darkness that takes over and makes the light almost impossible to come through. I couldn’t stop crying and ranting, “THIS is what happens when you waste your life, THIS!!” I was referring to myself and how terrible I felt about myself. Tommy was so worried and had no idea what to do with me. I didn’t know what to do with me.