This Is Mommyhood | Category Archive

Archive | depression RSS feed for this section

I’m now convinced Wolf Blitzer is a robot and you can never convince me otherwise.

By Elle on April 24, 2013 in anxiety, depression

I have been so fucking depressed.

My depression has flared up like Paris Hilton’s STD’s.

You’re very welcome for the image that is now in your head. I aim to please.

I haven’t been able to pull myself away from the television because I’m waiting for answers that eventually come and when they do, there are even more questions so I stay tuned and watch more news which makes me more depressed and I get more answers which creates more questions.

Whew!

This whole thing has been a clusterfuck of madness.

I know. Turn off the fucking television. I have been. And throwing myself into Joaquin Phoenix movies.

I had such a crush on him and his older brother, River, when I was really young. Back when Joaquin was known as Leaf.

Last Friday I got out the Walk The Line DVD (Reese Witherspoon aka Laura Jeanne Poon, what the fuck, girl?) and now I can’t get enough JP.

For me at least, Joaquin Phoenix has been like comfort food for my eyes. Seeing him reminds me of my childhood, where the only worries I had were…. uhhhh……… ummmmm.

Exactly!

I honestly haven’t paid much attention to the guy in years, with the exception of Walk The Line, but seriously, the guy knows what the fuck he’s doing.

I’ve been able to clear my head for a few hours and think of nothing else… kinda like how a Kardashian goes through life… and it’s been a nice escape.

If he’s not your thing, no biggie. But if you haven’t seen Inventing The Abbotts before, that movie is so good. Everyone in that film is amazing.

So, yeah, I’ve obviously been very productive the past week. Ha!

I have so many things swirling around in my head that I want to write about but when I try, poof, that shit is gone from my head. I’m finally coming around though. But damn, depression really got me good during this round.

The bright side has been our upcoming move to coastal Maine in June. I drank the kool-aid and now I’m giddy as fuck about moving there. I love California but I’m so ready for a change.

I’ve recently been learning all I can about screenwriting… I never saw that one coming… okay, maybe I did a little… and have been looking for anything resembling a film school where we’ll be moving.

How awesome would it be to write a masterpiece like Showgirls?! Okay, I won’t diss that movie too much seeing as how it’s comedy gold and whenever I watch it on television I think “damn, at least things aren’t as bad as this movie”.

So, Wednesday, thank you for not being as bad as Showgirls. Let’s keep it that way.

*Smashing Pumpkins – Tonight, Tonight. ~

And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel
Believe, believe in me, believe
That life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain
We’re not the same, we’re different tonight
Tonight, so bright
Tonight

Comments { 1 }

What the fuck is wrong with people?!

By Elle on April 15, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, depression, love, writing to heal

What the fuck is wrong with people?!!

I’ve been saying that for years.

I just don’t get it.

I’m not going to write about what happened in Boston on Monday because, well, it will be said by others.

I will say that the world can be so fucked but when I look at my daughter, everything is better.

I’ll say that I’m actually looking forward to moving to Maine (the shock is wearing off) in a few months and although Boston isn’t right next door, it’s only a few hours away.

I’ll say I can’t wait to be able to explore such a great city for the next 3 years.

I will say that I’ll be giving out as many hugs as I can.

I’ll say that my heart hurts.

I’ll say you should love as much as you can.

You just never know.

Comments { 3 }

This is going to require a lot of snuggies. That, or we turn into Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining. I’m going with the latter.

By Elle on March 25, 2013 in anxiety, depression, this and that, wha?, would you like some cheese with your whine?

Since the hubby’s in the Navy, we never really know where we’ll be sent next but got the inside scoop that there was a job opening in Ventura, CA at the end of the year. The job there for my husband seemed like a pretty done deal.

I was so excited since we wanted to stay on the west coast anyway and will be calling Seattle home in 3 or so years.

Then a bomb was dropped on us. As usual, my husband waited until the last possible second of the day, around 11pm, to tell me that he got word that the military will be sending us to coastal Maine in July.

Gulp!

Holy culture shock, Batman!

I have nothing against Maine and think it will actually be pretty cool (even with a ton of snow) but I’ve always been a California girl and planned out the next 3 years with us staying in Cali. We currently live in Northern California and have for nearly 3 years.

I just want to make it clear that I don’t hate that I’m moving to Maine, just that I’m already homesick for California and would be that way no matter where we moved…. even if it was to my beloved Seattle.

When my husband and I were living in D.C. years ago, he was sent up to Bath, Maine about 3 or 4 times for business and he loved it.

Everything I know about Maine, I learned from Stephen King, which doesn’t really help.

From what I’ve seen of it, it looks gorgeous.

I just never expected that we would actually be moving there. We don’t offically have the orders so it may change but that’s not likely.

The only thing I’m really freaking out about there is all of that snow. Sure it may be fun at first, but then it will snow and snow and snow and snow.

I just picture blizzards, no electricity, and all of us stuck in the house, driving each other insane.

REDRUM!! REDRUM!!

I can see myself going crazy with cabin fever and writing over and over… “All work and no play makes Elle a dull girl”.

I have to be honest… my other big fear is that the weather will worsen my depression. That scares me to no end.

I’ve been taking one step forward and three steps back with depression and while it’s more of an improvement than it used to be, I’m still struggling with depression and anxiety quite frequently.

Especially now, since this will be such a big change in our lives. The panic attacks have picked up no matter how much I try not to stress.

I really need to see if I can go back to my therapist (who I stopped seeing late last year) for a little “tune-up”.

The bright side is we’ll be close-ish to Boston and I’m hoping we’ll be able to make a few trips down to NYC while we’re living there.

I’m going to try and drink a bottle of shut the fuck up, stop my whining, and think of how nice it will be to move to Maine.

If you live there now or have ever lived there, please let me know what I should be expecting. Does it really snow buckets? Will we be trapped inside the house all winter while I’m at my computer writing “All work and no play makes Elle a dull girl”?

Comments { 8 }

My first thought was “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw!”

By Elle on March 22, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, depression, doctor stuff, hold me, holy hell, hubby, mommyhood, my brain is melting, the little hummingbird, wtf?

Making sure she has the essentials for her hospital stay, including her drill.

So, as you may know, the little hummingbird was hospitalized at Stanford for an 18 hour controlled fast a few weeks ago (thank you all so much for the support!). I’ve had the hardest time writing about if because it triggers my postpartum PTSD but I’m forcing myself anyway.

We had to get up at the butt crack of dawn the day of to get to Palo Alto and I was in a panic the whole time. While waiting to be taken back to her short stay room, my husband was turning in paperwork and my xanax that I took earlier was kicking in.

Then, out of nowhere, this major hottie comes out into the waiting room and he was asking for the hummingbird. Apparently they put her down as a male so he went up to a little boy who was playing by the bird.

I was trying to get the words out that the hummingbird was my daughter but oh my lawdy, this male nurse was so unbelievably hot. He was tall, dark, and handsome and looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ magazine.

Seriously people, this guy was fucking gorgeous.

The hot male nurse. Oh, yeah!

Then he introduced himself and said that the hummingbird is his only patient for the day and I was thinking halle-fucking-llujah and heard angels singing.

The hot male nurse was the perfect remedy for this panicky, stressed out mama.

Long story short, the poor hummingbird had her poor fingers pricked to death for most of the day. Finally at the 17th hour of the fast, her blood sugar started dropping and they were able to get the vital blood work that was needed.

Then, to get her blood sugar up, the hot male nurse gave her a shot of glucagon. It’s the stuff we’ve had on hand for years in case her blood sugar drops really low. We’ve never had to use it before though.

Sticker fun!

Guess what? This shit didn’t work and her blood sugar dropped even further. That’s when the room started to fill with more doctors and nurses and I was about to flip the fuck out because that was my biggest fear. That her blood sugar would drop really low and they wouldn’t be able to bring it back up.

I had to step out of the room for a few to try to pull my shit together but I was in tears.

They tried another shot of glucagon after 15 minutes and nothing happened. That’s when they got out the sugar-water and finally her blood sugar started going up to normal levels.

Whew!

Finally the hummingbird was stable but we had an appointment with her doctor at Stanford the next day so we stayed in a hotel that night.

First we hit a Mexican restaurant so this mama could down some margaritas and then we had to listen to an older couple in the booth behind us have this huge argument. It was intense and the guy was dropping f-bombs like crazy.

Sure, my favorite word is fuck but damn, he was doing it in a public place with families all around. It took all I had not to say something to this guy.

Come to mama!

Back at the hotel, the hummingbird wasn’t quite sure of her new surroundings for the night. The hubby and I were about to drop dead from the stress and exhaustion from the day and the hummingbird just wanted to zoom around the room.

I was crashed on the bed and woke up to the bird running around the room and turning on and off the lamps. Then she would run to the cheapo microwave, turn it on (it was on defrost) with the knob, let it run for a few seconds until it beeped, and she would continue this routine several times.

Finally when we got her to bed, she slept with me and I spend the night with her kicking the shit out of me. That girl is a violent little sleeper.

The next day, we went to see her doctor at Stanford and we found out after all of this time of thinking she’s hypoglycemic, she’s actually not but could have something that’s similar but rare.

My first thought after hearing this was “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw!” and it took all I had to not blurt it out in front of the doctor.

Her doctor really has no idea what could be wrong and now we are back to square one. She’s contacted a metabolic specialist at the children’s hospital in Philadelphia and that’s where we are at now.

The one new thing they want us to do though is give her uncooked cornstarch every night before bed. It’s a carb that slowly releases into the blood stream that can help prevent the occasional dips in the hummingbird’s blood sugar.

The real kicker is that they want us to build up and give her four fucking tablespoons at night and mix it in yogurt or pudding.

Yes, four fucking tablespoons. Ummm, we haven’t succeeded yet and I’m not at all surprised. That shit is nasty, yo.

So, while we thought this fasting and hospitalization was going to give us more answers, we are now left with more questions than ever. Fortunately the little bird has been back to herself and we haven’t had any issues with her blood sugar dropping yet.

She has a 4th birthday coming up next month and is so excited. I very much welcome the distraction from all of these medical issues.

Plus, damn, that hot male nurse really helped. Also, everyone at Stanford was excellent!!

Comments { 7 }

The Panic: Postpartum PTSD

By Elle on March 2, 2013 in anxiety, depression, doctor stuff, postpartum ptsd

*This post is probably a jumbled mess. I couldn’t read it back. It was so hard for me to write it because I was still a little panicky. Okay, a lot. If you’re dealing with postpartum ptsd, this may cause some triggers. Here is my original story that I wrote last year.

It was supposed to be a simple doctor’s visit for the hummingbird last week. She had pink eye, I know, ick, and I knew it would be an easy visit to her pediatrician who would most likely prescribe eye drops and send us on our way.

I usually try to have my husband come along to appointments for the hummingbird but this time it was just me and her.

Two hours before her appointment, the panic started. I tried to distract myself so the hummingbird and I started to play with her kitchen toys. Then the panic and anxiety got worse. I started to feel really nauseous and my heart started racing.

An hour before her doctor’s appointment, I was a fucking mess. My heart felt like it was going to thump out of my chest and my thoughts become so irrational. I was worried that once we got to the doctor, they would find something really wrong with the hummingbird and I’d have to leave her there, just like after she was born and had to spend 3 weeks in the NICU for low blood sugar.

The panic and nausea became so bad that I threw up, twice. I was trying so hard to keep it together and took my anti-anxiety medication. It never really kicked in and the panic grew stronger.

20 minutes before we were supposed to leave for the appointment, I was such a fucking mess. I was shaking, my thoughts were irrational, and it got to where I was about to call my husband to see if he could come home so he could take the hummingbird to the doctor.

He’s never really understood what I go through with postpartum ptsd and I decided not to call him after all.

Then the panic really hit its peak and I wanted so badly to call the doctor’s office and reschedule the appointment so my husband could take the hummingbird instead.

I felt like such a horrible mother. My child needed to see the doctor and here I was trying to get out of taking her.

I kept on telling myself to pull my shit together and rounded up the hummingbird. My hands were shaking so bad as I tried to zip up her jacket and I finally gave up.

We arrived at the doctor’s safe and sound but as I was unbuckling my daughter out of her car seat, I stopped for a minute. I desperately wanted to go back around to the driver’s side, hop in, and go back home.

It took all I had to force myself to get her out of the car and make the walk to the doctor’s office.

I completely blanked out from the time I got the hummingbird out of the car until we were about to open the door to the office. I honestly can’t remember anything about those few minutes.

All I know is when we walked into the office, I was carrying her and holding onto her for dear life. I didn’t want to set her down or let go of her but she found a toy in the waiting room that caught her eye.

Finally we were brought back to the exam room and I really thought about telling the medical assistant that I was in the middle of a panic attack and wanted to ask her if she could help talk me down from it.

Then I was worried that I would sound crazy because after all, it was just a simple visit to the doctor. The shaking started up again and I fumbled with the hummingbird’s jacket and shoes so the medical assistant could get her weight and height.

While waiting for the doctor, it felt like my face was on fire, my hands couldn’t stop shaking, and my mouth became so dry that when the doctor finally came into the exam room, it was hard for me to get much out.

My irrational thoughts started to invade my head again and I became so worried that the doctor would think that I was fucked up on drugs and call the police.

I know. It was completely irrational thinking and I even knew it at that time but with me in a panic and my mind racing, I was worried this doctor would somehow become a fucking mind reader and think I’m an unfit parent.

The doctor asked me a few more questions about when the pink eye started and I was barely able to make out the words and speak.

Finally, we were able to leave that fucking place and we safely went back home.

It took me several hours to calm down after the appointment. I even got to the point where I seriously thought I would give myself a heart attack because the panic and anxiety was so bad.

This is what I deal with whenever I take my daughter to the doctor. This is also why I try to get my husband to go with us since the intensity of the panic and anxiety I feel isn’t as extreme with him there.

This is Postpartum PTSD.

Comments { 4 }

I Hope You Dance

By Elle on February 11, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, depression, writing to heal

I had two “father figures” when I was a kid; my biological father that I didn’t meet until I was 9 years old and my former stepfather who my mom married when I was about 7. To put it bluntly, I would have been better off without the 2 I had.

It can be so hard, even at this age, to not be able to have a dad to reach out to.

My biggest dream as a child… besides a pony…. was just one dance with either father. Just once I wanted to be able to stand on my father’s feet and have that one little dance.

I don’t believe that a good childhood has to consist of a mother and a father. But I had a mom and two fathers and absolutely no kind of relationship with either one.

My bio dad, aka sperm donor, was too busy with his now former career as a musician, chasing women, and getting coked up. For 5 years I lived with that man and just wanted the love of my father. I was in my teens and desperately needed a father figure.

But I had to grow up fast and be the adult in that situation.

I haven’t seen my biological father since I was 17 but have been trying to meet with him just once more. He’s in Los Angeles but I just can’t ever seem to get myself down there. I’m still too afraid. Afraid of having to open up old wounds with him.

My former stepfather was just an asshole, plain and simple. I know he will even agree with this. Our relationship wasn’t that bad at first when my mom married him.

Then a few years later, my younger sister came into the world and around the same time, the bio dad finally came into the picture.

After that, the emotional abuse I put up with from my stepfather was fucking unreal. He’s the type to put others down just to up his ego.

The relationship I now have with both of them is civil but what really hurts is that my daughter is missing out on TWO grandfathers.

The surprising thing for me is that my bio dad has been much more thoughtful when sending my 3 year-old little gifts here and there and calling so he knows what’s going on, not only with her, but with me as well.

Too bad he didn’t care more when I really needed him.

My former stepfather, who I actually consider to be my “real” father (my mom was with him for 20 years so he’s been there for most of my life), has been the one that’s disappointed me.

He could seem to care less about my daughter but he showers his other 2 grandchildren with love and affection.

That right there fucking kills me. It’s so hurtful… beyond words.

Even at my age now, I still hope I get that one dance I wanted for so long. But it’s safe to say I won’t be standing on their feet.

We don’t want any crushed toes and I want to make it through the whole dance.

Comments { 2 }

Fuck Depression

By Elle on November 6, 2012 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, depression

As you may know, I’ve been dealing with depression for a few years now. This isn’t my first time at the rodeo. I’ve had two previous episodes of it in the past 10 years.

Depression. It’s an evil fucking bastard. But I finally feel like I’m crawling out of my hole and can see the light.

The thing is, I have a pretty great life so some would think I have nothing to be depressed about. I’ve been told to exercise more and eat better and while that helps, it doesn’t solve depression.

I’ve even been told to snap out of it. Ummm, no. From my experience over the years, you can’t just snap out of it. Nobody can help you except yourself.

With depression, it feels like I’ve fallen into a hole and I’m trying my hardest to climb out of it but the more I struggle and try to get out, the further I fall into that hole.

It’s also led to tremendous guilt which just makes it worse. My daughter hasn’t gotten 100% of her mom. My husband hasn’t been able to have 100% of his wife and then I just fell deeper.

My love for writing, reading, and music completely dropped off the face of the earth. I barely had my head above water.

I was starting to feel like this is how I would be for the rest of my life. I finally started medication but there isn’t a magic pill for depression. Going to therapy has helped some but again, this is my battle to fight.

My depression has been especially difficult because this is the time of year I usually get into a funk. This time of year is when I’ve lost a handful of people over the years that I love and care for deeply.

When the anniversary of their death approaches, I feel like I’m experiencing the loss of them all over again.

Over the last few months, I’ve started to see glimmers of myself from time to time and it’s felt really good.

I’m tired of the self-loathing. I’m tired of the crying fits I have. I’m tired of not giving my all.

A few weeks ago, it felt like a switch turned on in my head. I really opened my eyes and looked at my life. I can’t make my depression disappear but what I have done is slowly get back into the things I love.

My daughter is finally getting her mom back and that fills my heart with so much love.

My husband and I are even at a point where we don’t want to strangle each other anymore. What am I saying. We’ve been married for 17 years so of course we want to strangle each other on a daily basis.

But we are opening the lines of communication up more and more. We’re still stuck in a rough patch but it’s getting much better between us.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be 100% again after this bout with depression. It really has taken such a toll. One thing I am going to do is move forward instead of being swallowed up in the regrets I have because of it.

Have you ever experienced depression? How did you overcome it?