Blessed to have Anxiety

I’ve had some dear friends ask my thoughts about a mom in Utah (where I live, too) that struggled with post-partum depression, just like I do. My thoughts might help others, so feel free to share.

Please start by reading the following article about Emily Dyches.

http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865654819/A-familys-faith-and-a-mothers-legacy-shines-through-The-Emily-Effect.html

First of all, I love that her family had already tried lots of things to help her. They were aware of the problem, and doing all they could. I feel lucky that after the first time, I could anticipate my Post-partum Depression (PPD). This woman had never had any until her 5th child. She couldn't have "seen it coming."

Secondly, I love that her family offered very specific ideas on what could have been improved in her care, like a way for her to continue nursing her baby while in a treatment facility. That will make the future better for other moms. From my first experience with PPD in 2007 to my fourth go this last year (2015-16), perinatal mental health has improved drastically. My kids’ pediatrician gives ME a mental health evaluation, and sends it to MY doctor, because he sees me for kid check-ups sooner than I see my own doctor, and because my health is directly related to my kids’ health. My OB’s group added a Psychologist and Psychiatrist to their group of doctors, and gave them office space in the same place I went to all my prenatal appointments. That was huge. No insurance haggling about coverage, no stigma that mental health is “different” from physical health, no finding a new office in an unfamiliar building. Knowing that I was a very high risk for PPD, my OB sent me home from the hospital with a higher dose of antidepressants. She didn’t wait for it to get bad, or expect me to come find her to ask for help.

A word on panic attacks: Emily Dyches’ panic attack caused her life to be taken, much like a heart attack might have done. She was not in control of herself. She herself did not take her own life. That is a truth for their family, and we should respect that. Panic attacks for me are not like they show them on TV. Usually on TV, a person experiencing a panic attack is doubled over, hyperventilating and unable to move or interact with their environment. It usually lasts for a few minutes. For me, it means sometimes I have constricted breathing (a little less severe than hyperventilating), and I cannot stop my racing thoughts long enough to accomplish any non-essential task. It lasts hours, and often an entire day, sometimes several days. I'm glad I have minimal functionality during panic attack days (some people have none): the kids get fed, they are not in danger, but I let them have what is probably far too much electronics time in one day, in order to keep them low-maintenance, since I am somewhat out-of-order for the time being. Sometimes I am on Facebook far too much, but it's one of the easiest ways I’ve found to distract my brain and try to find positive thoughts to focus on. Putting my kids to bed makes me irritable beyond reason on these days, and I feel guilty/depressed that they will have those kind of memories of me. On occasion, during a panic attack, I have suicidal thoughts. I can’t say the best way to deal with those for everyone else, since I’m not a mental health professional. For me, I acknowledge that I have had them, tell someone I’ve had them, then do anything I can to keep my brain from dwelling on them, making sure never to stay alone when having them.

My housekeeping suffers horribly on panic attack days, and sometimes for days afterward because it all seems so overwhelming. My husband is wonderful at pitching in, and especially at helping me be kind to myself about the condition of our home. But... he's been working late, and taking on numerous other responsibilities. He's exhausted. My one-year-old still wakes me nearly every night, sometimes multiple times. I'm exhausted. We're sanitary, but cluttered. We're fine; this is "normal." This is temporary. Humans can endure extraordinary hardships when they know it is temporary. I have my older kids (9, 6, 3) doing daily chores, which eases my burden. Luckily, we don't have many visitors to our home. I'm so thankful that my husband is willing to be so kind about coming home to chaos. He sweeps the kids up and keeps them happily occupied while I have a few moments to recover before the [stupid] bedtime routines start.

The other difficulty with panic attacks is social situations. I can fake like I'm fine during family parties, teaching a lesson at church and other events, but when I come home, my body instigates it's "fight or flight" response. Church exhausts me every single week, even when I don't teach. When leaving social gatherings, I often feel lame if no one spoke a word to me voluntarily, but then I also fret when I do hold a conversation and think of all that I should and should not have said. Again... fine during the actual situation, but panicked afterward, usually into the next day. 

With all the over-thinking I do, I have found many blessings in having such a "condition." The biggest of which is how utterly fortunate I am to have the companion I do. I didn't know I was already struggling with Anxiety when we got married, and sometimes I don't feel like I'm the same person he thought he was getting. I know he hates watching me struggle, and I love how he encourages me at every turn. The newest front on this battle is identifying signs of Anxiety in our kids and figuring out what to do about it. I'm so glad it’s this struggle for us, because there are so many involuntary trials that are so much worse. I'm so glad that doctors are getting more educated, and people are slowly getting over the stigma of mental illness. Medicine helps me, and I'm thankful to live in a time in history when it's available.

To my friends who have read this huge long thing: Thank you for being aware. Thank you for reaching out to me.  Anxiety and Depression brings all new meaning to the phrase, "one day at a time." Sometimes it's one hour or one minute at a time. But having someone validate that what I'm doing is hard, and tell me I'm doing a good job makes all the difference. Thanks for that, too. 

Lots of Love,

Angela