Even Super Mom Gets Depressed

It’s a fact that one in four adults suffer from some sort of mental illness in a given year.  Whether it be some sort of depression, severe social anxieties, bipolar, schizophrenia, and the list goes on and on.  But why is it talked about so little?  I relate it to the dreaded parental talks about sex with your child.  Is it because we don’t know how to relay the message without feeling awkward or maybe because we think if we don’t talk about it surely it will go away and won’t ever present itself?  Or simply denial that we ourselves have once felt this way and we don’t want our children to think we are weak or seemingly different from everyone else?  Is there room for this sort of teaching in the classroom environment for tolerance and understanding of mental illness?  For one in four people I sure hope so.

It seems the older I get the more I am exposed to mental illness with not only more of the people I know but also different kinds of mental illnesses and seeing as the median age for diagnosis is 30 and I am 30 it makes sense.  It has made me come to realize how common this really is and how people who struggle with this should not feel outcast or alone.  I myself have struggled with depression at various times of my life.  Two of the biggest and most recent episodes were postpartum and during the demise of my marriage.  These were two very different types of feelings at two overlapping times of my life.  I wish to share my story in hopes I can help someone not feel alienated by their own self.

I was first put on a very small dosage of antidepressant during my third trimester with Max really to take the edge off.  My Doctor thought it was a good idea to get me on something I could take after birth as well which was really fine by me.  I was understandably having anxiety issues about being a first time parent and the whole birth process.  I was so nervous about birthing a child I refused to watch any shows or movies that had any child birthing scenes in it (unlike a lot of my fellow pregnant friends).   Little did I know, that would almost be the easiest part.  The lack of sleep and overwhelming constant need of mind, body, and soul from your child can be a lot for a new mother.  It can be a lot for a marriage that was based on 5 whole years of just us too.  My entire life, our entire married lives were focused around us and only us and it shifts to this little 7 pound human that lived inside you for 9 months.  Your entire life in the tiny hands of a 7 pound human.  It can be quite scary.  The first five months aside from all the occasional hostility towards my now ex (they seem to always get the brunt of the postpartum episodes) and frustration when I didn't know what I was doing really wasn't that bad.  Of course, going back to work and having to leave my sweet little bundle of bodily fluids was not an easy time but I adjusted or so it seemed.  I decided without consulting my Doctor first (first and worst mistake) that I didn't need the antidepressants anymore because I felt so good.  I was horribly wrong and although I knew within a couple months of stopping my antidepressant I had to get back on I was already on a self destructive spiral with my self esteem and an already flawed marriage.  I loved my son very much and don't wish to understate that fact through all this nor does he have anything to do with how I was feeling but I felt like I had lost my identity.  I wasn't Sarah anymore, I was Jon's wife and/or Max's mom; I felt like I didn't even have a name.  Of course I don't wish to divulge any of the rest of the details from the demise of my marriage but ultimately I had to start seeing a therapist to sort through the feelings I had (especially with the marriage and self esteem, blaming myself for everything) and had to up my dosage of antidepressant.  When we upped the dosage I was also dealing with the fact that my marriage was over so it was more to help me with the grieving I was going through.  The grieving for the life I had, the life I thought I would have forever, the life my son had and would change forever.  There were many nights I ended up crying myself to sleep in the closet.  I don't know what it was about that closet I found comfort in.

It now has been several months since I have recovered and started the new chapter in my life and over a month since I have been (with Doctor advice this time) weened off the antidepressant.  I am happier than I have ever been, more in love than I have ever been (Max), more in tuned to Max's emotions and feelings which has ultimately made me a better mother than I have ever been, and have a deeper understanding of myself and my feelings, and also of other people's feelings who have had similar feelings I have had.  Mental illness doesn't just happen to "crazy people", it happens every day, all over, in plain sight to plain people and although we don't chose the feelings we have we chose whether to acknowledge its existence.