About this time of year 2 years ago, I found out I was pregnant. I had just barely been accepted to Graduate school (BYU & U of U) and I felt my entire world, everything I had worked so hard for, being ripped away. Due to morning sickness, I had to withdraw from my final semester. As a result, I no longer qualified for Graduate school. From there, I began to spiral down further and further into a dark black depression. A black hole that had many entrances but no exits.
I found myself skipping church a lot. Mostly because I was so sick but also partly because it took so much work and energy to pretend to be okay, to make people think I was happy.
A few short month later, my dad died. I sat on the floor in his hospital room not knowing what to do. Josh helped my brother-in-law give Dad a blessing. I knew at that moment, that my Daddy was going to die. My heart broke as a slipped further into the blackness.
I began to feel lost and alone, so very alone.
After my dad's funeral, I often found myself sitting and staring and nothing. I would sit for countless hours doing nothing at all. Soon I started talking to myself saying things like, "Your house is a huge mess" You can't even do he simplest things" You are not important"...
It wasn't long before I started believing these statements.
By the time Brianna was born, I was so far into the black hole that I didn't think I would ever get out. And I had begun hating myself so much that I felt I didn't deserve to get out.
After Brianna was born, my Dr prescribed an antidepressant for me. For a while, I felt better, not great, but better.
I went back to school and finished my degree. Although, this is something I have wanted to do for ever, somehow, it felt as though I was just going through the motions. Sometimes I felt like I was watching somebody else live my life. Not really participating, not really living.
Just after we moved here, I hit rock-bottom. I was completely unable to function. I thought about killing myself almost daily. I had no desire or motivation to do anything.
One day I heard an advertisement on the radio for a place that was doing research on Depression. I called the number and scheduled an appointment.
Long story-short, I qualified for the study and I was supposed to have a phone interview to get everything set up. I waited all day and no one called. Finally I called the research facility and was told that the study had been discontinued. Because I had qualified for the study, I was entitled to 2 free sessions with their Psychiatrist.
I few days later I went in to see this Dr. He was running late so I had to wait in the waiting room for a bit. Then he came and got me. As we entered his office, his cell phone rang. He answered it and talked to his wife for 5 minutes. Then he hung up and, without apologizing, said that his wife was going to get fired from her job and he had to take that call to give her important information about their lawyer.
Finally, he asked me to explain my situation. As I was telling him about my dad dying, he received and answered several text messages. He never looked at me through the entire interview. Finally he said "well, based on what you have told me, this is what I recomend.
I barely made it to the car before I burst into tears. What was I going to do? The voices in head began saying "See, no one cares" "No one wants to help you." "You aren't even worth his time."
I got home and began looking for a new Psychiatrist. I called number after number being told that all these Dr's were not accepting new patients. A few places said they couldn't schedule appointments until you filled-out their forms. They would send me an email containing a document saying that I would pay for my appointments.
So every Dr was either too busy for me or only wanted my money.
Later that day, I found myself with a knife in my right hand and a large cut in my left hand. I had cut myself, on purpose. I really don't remember doing it or why, except that somehow I thought the voices telling me I'm stupid and no one cares would somehow go away...
After that, I was scared! I didn't know what to do. I asked Josh to give me a blessing.
I made an appointment with the Resident I had seen in my screening for the research study.
I went to the appointment, had to take both kids with me. I looked at the Dr and said, "I can't go on like this anymore." I need help.
This Dr gave me a new prescription to try and told me to come back in a week. I took the new meds.
The new meds made me feel panicky all the time. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't focus.
I went back to the Resident and explained my situation. He decided to increase the dosage on the meds. I tried it for a few weeks having crazing mood swings, UPS and DOWNS and TONS of anxiety.
Finally I returned to the Resident and asked him if we could try something different. He prescribed two different antidepressants.
I had my perscription filled and began the new meds.
Within days, I felt like I could finally breath again. I guess I didn't even realize that I hadn't been breathing before.
I feel that I have carefully climbed my way out of the blackness. Those voices in my head tell me "I'm doing by best" It's okay to have a bad day" You are NOT stupid!"
Anyway, as this blog is kind of my journal, I wanted to write this all out. Not to make people feel sad but to document something that our family went through and hopefully, it will help someone else somewhere down the road.
You are not the only one! Many of us have felt this way! I am relieved to hear you are feeling better. That doctor ought to lose his job too! How unprofessional.
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