I have been wanting for a while to start blogging. I have so many thoughts going through my head all the time that I want to share. I just didn’t know where to start. Now that I’m dealing with some really bad postpartum depression alongside the depression and anxiety I’ve wrestled with since I was a kid, I decided it’s time to just get in here and wing it. My heart and mind are exploding with the need to pour out despite what some might think of me.
First off, let’s start with my screen name. Those who have known me a REALLY long time know that this has been pretty much my go to screen name. Picklepuddles. WAT? Yeah. Picklepuddles. I remember when trying to come up with some fun screen name, I specifically thought of words that seemed weird to me when I thought hard enough about it. I want to say I was maybe 14? 15? Anyways, the word “pickle” had always seemed strange when I said it enough. Then randomly the word “puddles” next to it just seemed so fitting. There you have it. The story of my screen name. Nothing really exciting, right? Ha.
But now I kind of wanted to turn it into a deeper, yet still maybe slightly funny, meaning. Like the rest of the world, I have struggles. I have pitfalls. I get into pickles a lot, right? So why not make a blog expressing my thoughts a theme of “a puddle of pickles”? Because the “pickles” I get into are often what lead to my inspirations and my deep thoughts.
My life right now- I am a 27-year-old Army wife currently stationed in Texas with my husband of 7 years. I stay at home with our two kids. Our daughter, Elli, was 2 in May. Our son, Remy, was born May 17th and is therefore 2 months old. I am a direct sales consultant for Gold Canyon and Thirty-One Gifts and am going to be adding on actually two more companies as soon as money allows. Why? Because I’m crazy, I love doing direct sales, and I love the companies (plus a little discount is nice). I will also be continuing pursuing an Associate’s degree in business come beginning of August through American Allied University online. On top of all that, I am also working toward getting back into my music, my ultimate passion and calling from God. Yeah, I’m a little ambitious.
No wonder I’m so depressed, right? Tacking on all these things in my life? Wrong. It’s all what keeps me going. My faith in God is what keeps me the strongest and the most inspired. My depression, my anxiety, all of it, is genetics. I don’t have a horrible past life that created all these mental issues. My parents are great. Made their mistakes, sure. But, DUH, human! I’ve discussed all this with counselors many times.
It all started with my anxiety, which is the underlying issue. I can date it all the way back to when I think I was 11. That’s when I remember my first panic attack. It came from nowhere. All of a sudden, I thought I was dying, and I’m yelling at my dad to call 911. I officially got diagnosed with depression in 9th grade at 15. Been on and off meds ever since.
What got me through was God. I’d wake up middle of the night with a panic attack or depression and pray. My teen years were especially the hard part. I prayed. I wrote poetry. I journaled. If it wasn’t for my faith and the gifts He blessed me with, I would not be here today. I owe Him my life and more. Yet every day I still take Him for granted.
That’s all a very long story short. Today is a time during which I’ve hit the big dip in the roller coaster ride of my depression. The climb back up is so so slow and so so hard.
It is a terrible bout of ppd. I love my son and do not blame him one bit. I blame my insane hormones that do not seem to know how to keep my bodily chemicals balanced. I am breast feeding and stupidly three weeks ago also got on birth control recommended by my doctor. I say “stupidly” because it seems like it’s been ever since that I’ve gone downhill. I’ve never reacted well to birth control, but I thought this one would be ok because the progesterone levels were low. EH wrong! It started out by just making me a monster with my mood swings. Even called my doctor at the request of my husband, Tony. Few days passed, felt like I was getting better. Then my depression started hitting deep. From there it’s just gotten worse and worse every day. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to fight it or do everything I’ve learned over the years to do to help myself, my imbalance is just out of control. I’m to a point now where absolutely nothing is as enjoyable. All I want to do is cry or scream. Or even punch something.
So as a result, tomorrow I am getting the birth control removed (because, yeah, it’s that kind). I’m hoping this is the big reason I’m so bad. I’m even on my regular meds that I’ve been on since earlier last year. So I do not want to think that they suddenly aren’t working anymore. If they aren’t, there is a strong chance I will have to stop nursing for the sake of not only myself, but my family as well. There are many who probably feel very strongly against this. Rest assured, though, that it’s not for lack of interest in continuing the nursing. I very much want to be able to. But from the advice of others, including some doctors, it is better for Remy (and also Elli and Tony) to have a mommy that is healthy. So if I want to be healthy, my wacky hormones and chemicals need to be put under control. Nursing is only contributing to the wacky hormones in conjunction with the birth control. If eliminating the birth control isn’t enough, stopping nursing is the next step. If doing that still isn’t enough, it’s time to see a dreaded psychiatrist to experiment with other meds yet again. Woo to the hoo.
It’s hard for many to understand this whole cycle, I know. I struggle understanding it myself sometimes. Often I think that I should just let it go or get over it. Then realizing the way this feels not just emotionally, but physically, there’s no way that is possible on my own. It is an illness, not a weakness. That is something my mom taught me from when I was little. It all runs so heavily in my family. While it is the reason I deal with it so strongly, I am glad of it because it is how I know when I need help. And right now, I need help. I got so bad a week ago that I needed Tony to stay home. Every day now has been a battle with forcing myself to stick to the routine I had finally developed. Every day is getting harder and harder. And if I want to continue with the things that normally get me through without the extra help, I need to GET the extra help. That starts by not being afraid to talk to people. Doctors, family, friends, and you all reading this.