Waiting

I started taking the anti-depressant about a week ago. I was informed that it would take at least 2 weeks to start feeling any improvement and 6-8 weeks to reach full effect, so I'm waiting. 

Last week was bad. Really bad. Especially near the end of the week. I had this awful pit in my stomach and barely dragged myself out of bed. The fears I have right now are so irrational, I feel like a fool. Although irrational is perhaps the wrong word. In any case, they are completely, 100%, TOTALLY out of my control, or anyone else's at this point, and I wish I could let them go just for that reason. There's no use in living under their black cloud when I can't ever do anything about them, no matter how bad they might be.  I just can't seem to move on. These thoughts are constantly in the back of my mind, hovering over me 24/7, like a bad dream that I can't wake up from. It's really wearing on me. 

Fingers crossed that these pills do what they are supposed to. If I'm taking them, they better work. That's all I can say. I'm so ready to start feeling better, I'm just not having any luck on my own, not matter how hard I try.  

Doc's Orders

I went to see my family doc this week about my depression and anxiety. She basically confirmed what I was suspecting in that it's likely postpartum depression. She prescribed a (nursing safe) anti-depressant, and wants me to come back and see her at the beginning of November to check up on the situation.

I haven't filled the script yet because I'm nervous about taking anything while I'm breastfeeding (I'm nervous about taking most things in normal situations anyway). While my doctor assures me that it's safe, I'm going to do some research of my own just to ease my mind.

At least it's a start.

Admitting I Need Help

I have an amazing life.

I have a husband that defies all logic. He cooks, he cleans, he takes care of the yard, he waits on me hand and foot, he never gets mad at me, he actually argues with me over who gets to take care of the baby. He's amazing. 

I have a beautiful, healthy baby girl who is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. She's happy, and growing like a weed. She changes every day and makes me smile all the time. I really truly can't believe how much I love her.

I have a home, my awesome family is healthy, I have my pups and  I'm picking away at my degree.

My life sounds pretty good right? And it is. I know how lucky I am, and I wouldn't give them up for the world. But.....

I'm struggling.  This happens to me from time to time, and usually it passes.  Last year was an exception when I lost my job. I remember feeling like I was in a really deep hole that I just couldn't climb out of.  I don't ever want to get back to that low, it was the worst I've ever been, but at least at that point, I knew the reason for it. I knew, deep down, that one day I'd have a job again and I'd be able to "get over it".  This time, I can feel myself slipping into that hole again, with almost unbearable anxiety and depression over things that are completely out of my control and that there really may be no solution to.

I'm not sleeping, I'm on the verge of tears a lot of the time, my stomach is in knots, I have panic attacks.... and I can't concentrate. I'm simply having trouble finding any joy.  If it weren't for Adelaide, I'd probably be in bed under the covers for 99% of the day. She's my only reason to smile. 

I realize that it's time to get help. With my family's history of mental illness, I know that I can't let myself get worse without doing something.  I don't know what form of help I need yet, but I'm starting by talking to my doc.  I'm hoping she'll refer me to a Psychiatrist and I can go from there. I don't know if I'll need medication to handle things (I'd like to avoid that if possible) or if there are some coping strategies she might be able to help me with.

Something's gotta give.  I have to find a way to handle these thoughts and anxieties so that I can live my life and fully enjoy my daughter.  I'm willing to try anything to get back to "normal".