Depression - some explicit language

Anyone who knows me knows that I am usually a very happy, social person.  It really stuns people when they find out that about a year and a half ago, I was diagnosed with severe depressive disorder.  In the time that followed, I've heard so many things that people mean to be encouraging, but are actually just condescending.  I know that they don't mean anything by it, but seriously, don't you think that someone suffering from this haven't tried it?

My story starts when I was pregnant.  To say that I had a horrendous pregnancy is putting it mildly.  At first, it was the round the clock hyperemesis (ya know, throwing up round the clock).  That, I could handle.  I even smiled the whole time.  The nurse that met us for our first visit took one look at me, asked how I was, and I said, "WONDERFUL."  She gave me a funny look & said, "Even with all of the sickness?"  I told her that I had wanted to be a mom since my brother was born.  Her response, "Awwww, how old is he?"  To which I replied, "27."  She busted up laughing.  This is how I wanted my pregnancy to be, happy, and full of laughter and love.  Don't get me wrong.  It was an exciting time for us as expectant parents, but it was also scary.

At 17 weeks, I had an ultrasound (I needed those every 2 weeks because of a problem I had about 8 years before).  The tech left the room, and returned with the news that I had a condition called placenta previa.  I was miffed that the doctor himself did not come in and tell me this, but I knew a little of what this entailed.  They told me no heavy lifting, etc.  OK, I can do that.  NO VACUUMING!!  WOO HOO!!  We did everything the doctors said and hoped that it would move.

At 22 weeks, I had some spotting.  Nothing big, but it scared the daylights out of me.  We went to the hospital and they put me on modified bed rest.  I was allowed up & down the stairs twice a day, had to stay within 30 minutes of the hospital, and I had to take it easy.  I did all of this, all the time, I was laying in bed, scared to death of what could happen.  You see, this condition isn't to be taken lightly.  If I wasn't careful, both the baby and I would have died.  This was going on in my head every second of every day.

At 33 weeks pregnant, I started hemorrhaging.  I was admitted to the hospital for the rest of the pregnancy.  At 34 weeks, I hemorrhaged again.  At 35 weeks, I had an amnio done.  The lungs came back very immature.  It was decided that I would have the c-section at 37 weeks.  On April 28th, my adorable baby girl was born...completely perfect.

I had decided that I wanted to breastfeed.  This went great.  I felt great, we both took to it very well.  Then, at nine months, Abby decided she didn't want that anymore.  It took too much time away from her busy playing schedule.  This is when the depression set in.  I was a completely different person in just a few days.  I went from being happy & smiling to not being able to get out of bed, not eating, snapping at everyone, and just wanted to die.  This went on for months.  I finally got the nerve to call the doctor about this.  I wanted to change.  I needed to, for my baby girl's sake.

Right before I called the doctor, we went on vacation with my in-laws.  The whole week was a roller coaster.  My husband was dead set against me going to the doctor about it.  One day, on vacation, I had a complete and total melt down.  My husband couldn't understand it.  I looked at him and said, "HOW can you think that THIS is normal?  THIS is what I need help for."  He still didn't support my decision, but it was my decision to make.  The day I left for the doctor, the person watching my daughter tried to talk me out of going.  That is when I told her how bad it had gotten.  I was fighting with myself every morning to put the knife down after cutting up my daughter's fruit for her breakfast.

Some of the things that were said to me (and what I was thinking):
"You need to get out into the sun more."  No shit.  If I could get myself together, maybe I would do just that.  If I could just get myself moving, I would.  If I could get my energy level up, hell, I'd be out all damn day.

"You need to exercise."  Read my response above.

"You need to eat better."  Well, hot damn, if I felt like making better food, I would.  When you're feeling the way I did, You don't care what you're eating, or even IF you're eating.

"You don't need the medication."  I went to get the medication because I NEEDED it.  I HATE being on meds.  I hate having to take them.  Do you really think that I would go and get them if I didn't NEED them?  Asshole.

My personal "Favorite..."
"You just need to change your outlook on things."  Fuck you.  If I could wave a fucking magic wand and change my "outlook on things," don't you think I would?  Do you think I LIKE being like this?  If so, I repeat, fuck you.

I know that I've got a long way to go.  There are times where I feel great, like my old self again, but then I slip right back.  I try hard to be a better person, a happier person.  I want to be more energetic.  I want to be able to do all the things that my daughter wants to.  I want to be able to run & play & be outside all day long.  I'm working on it.  I'm a work in progress.

I'm trying to find different ways to deal with my inner pain...and I get criticized for the things I do to deal with the depression as well.  It's constantly a double-edged sword.  If I am feeling down, I need to find an outlet.  When I find an outlet, it's not the right one according to some people.  I will probably be criticized for this blog entry as well, but I need to stop thinking about what is right for everyone else and start thinking about what is right for me and my family...my husband, me, and my daughter.  That is what has to matter to me.  No one else.  I have to be able to clear my head and make the appropriate decisions that will affect the three of us in a positive way.  If it means that I write, I write.  If it means that I disappear for some time to focus, I need to disappear.  If it means that I need to give some things up, no matter how much I love doing it, that is what I will do.

I will do what it takes to overcome this demon and I will try my best to come out of this with my head held high.  I may come out of this with fewer friends, but in the end, if they can't stick with me at my worst, they don't deserve me at my best (yes, I just paraphrased Marilyn Monroe).  I will find out who my true friends are.  They are the ones who won't tell me that I need to "change my way of thinking," that I "don't need meds," or any of the other drivel that I've heard.  They will walk with me, no matter how dark the road, with a flashlight in their hands, trying to help me find the right path out.  These are the people who I consider my friends.  These are the people who make my life worth living (well, in addition to my family).  They say that friends are the family that you choose for yourself.  I know that I've chosen some pretty amazing people, and that they are there for me to help me see the light in the dark and I am eternally grateful.  This is what people suffering from depression need...love, support, laughter, and people who will let them be who they are with no judgement...just a hand held out to help them up.