If More Doctors Equaled More Results, I’d Have The Key to Eternal Youth

Have you ever thought “why did I just do that?”. I’m sure you have, many times. But imagine having that feeling for several years. Image how lost you’d feel. Image how hard it would be to make/keep friends or be in a relationship. Image trying to love someone but then forgetting how to love. Image trying to raise your kids a certain way but then forget why you wanted too. This has been me for years now. I look back at different time throughout my adult life and not even know what I was thinking, nor can I remember how I felt.  Now I know everyone forgets things and we all make mistakes, but it goes far deeper than that for me. When I was 16 I started my first anti-depressant, I almost immediately felt far worse. I returned to my doctor, she then of course told me it take several weeks for your body to really get use to it. Weeks of feeling like that? No, thank you. I stopped taking the medication(it wasn’t one that can have severe harmful effects when stopping it). I returned to the doctor several weeks later, at which point the doctor practically yelled at me upon finding out that I had stopped the medication. She also refused to try any other medications until I gave that one another chance. She didn’t believe me nor seemed to care that I felt completely unable to function on that medication. I never went back to see her, which meant for over a year I went not medicated. Which was tough but I didn’t really understand my feelings or moods. Somewhere late in my 17th year I once again began a search for a doctor and possibly a new medication. I found a doctor really seemed to care but sadly she wasn’t super knowledgeable with depression medications let alone how to help me. She tried, I ended up on a medication  that made me have random thoughts about wanting to die. For example if I was driving I’d start thinking maybe I should just drive straight into a tree or ditch. I would realize that what I was thinking was off, but couldn’t stop the thoughts. So I went back to the doctor and she told me to stop taking the medication immediately, and she thought I needed to see someone who specialized more in that area. I didn’t find anyone at that point, which meant I went about 6 months or so off medication completely. A few months after I turned 18 I was hit with an extreme a lot of anxiety. I had gotten really sick and ended up in the ER. The doctor there ignored me when I tried to explain that my had heart problems and it wasn’t an anxiety attack that has also caused my heart rate to go sky-high. I let him convince me that maybe it was an anxiety attack so I took the medication he prescribed for anxiety. Fast forward maybe 2 or 3 days and I was already beginning to completely lose control of my own thoughts. I was hit with so much anxiety and fear I would ask my mom(I was living back at home at this point) to lay in my bed with me so I could sleep for a bit, because I was too scarred to be in a room alone to sleep. I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t drive. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to shower. I didn’t want to move. Every single minute of every single day I spent completely terrified to even be alive. I finally got into see someone(45 mins away) that seemed far more able to help me. They took my off my current medication at the time and changed them to something totally different. It didn’t take to long to realize they were helping. It took a few weeks for me to get back to myself(whoever that is). But over the next couple of months I felt better than I had in years. About 5 months later I found out I was pregnant and the medication I was on was extreme dangerous to a fetus. Therefore I had to stop talking it at once. I felt okay for several months, but towards the end of my pregnancy I started getting really fearful again and didn’t want to be around anyone. After the birth of my first daughter postpartum depression hit me like a fright train. I had no idea what was happening. I didn’t understand my emotions at all. I was 19, I didn’t know how to seek help or how to explain how I was feeling. When my doctor was 4 or 5 months old I went back to the doctor and get back on the medication I had been on before I got pregnant. I started feeling human again and was able to start enjoying life again. I did mostly okay for the next 2 years or so. Then I lost my insurance which meant I couldn’t afford to go to the doctor for more refills or pay for the medication. I had also gotten married shortly after this. I honestly can’t tell you much about myself during that time, I remember what was going on but not really anything about me specifically. I had spent two years on that medication and suddenly I no longer had it. I wasn’t sure how to process what I was thinking or feeling. In many ways I felt just as I did after I had my daughter. I knew I wasn’t in the right head space but I couldn’t pull myself away from the ledge I was on. I spent about 2 months total off medication. It took me awhile to find my grounding again, but slowly I thought I was feelings better. The end of summer in 2014 I was starting to realize I didn’t really recognize myself anymore, but I wasn’t sure how to fix it. I think I was more in denial of how different I was acting. I knew it wasn’t me, but at the same time I didn’t. I spent the next 2 years getting further and further away from the me I once was. I would do or say things and for a moment I would realize how strange I was acting, but it was only for a moment and I’d go right back to what I was doing. How do you not even know yourself? Why did no one listen when I tried to explain my confusion? If I started feeling odd on one medication they’d just give me another medication to take with the one I was on. That’s like throwing trash on top of trash and hoping it turns into a unicorn. No doctor I ever went to pondered the thought of why nothing ever worked well for me for longer than about 2 seconds. I will say that when I was younger I didn’t always fully go into how I was feeling because I felt like they’d either be shocked or they’d think I was lying, if I told them how bad I really felt. But as I’ve gotten older I now try to fully go into detail about what I’m feeling and still no one seemed to take me seriously. I come from a family with history of depression and anxiety, I lost a parent at a young age, I dealt with verbal abuse,  I have now gone through postpartum twice. All of these factors have given them what they thought were good enough reasons to dismiss what or how I feel. Honestly I can’t remember a time that I didn’t feel this way. I can actually remember being about six years old(before any of those things had happened) and being so anxious I couldn’t sleep or I didn’t want to leave our house because I worried of all the different things that might happen. But how to you tell someone your anxiety was already that bad at 6 years old? You don’t. Because they will either think you are absolutely insane or you’re full of crap. I had to grow up pretty fast to be able to handle my ever-changing life, so by the time I was actually an adult I was already too tired to deal with adulthood. I would’ve probably made better life choices at 15 than I could/did at 20. I was tired. I am tired. I am tired of fighting for myself. I’m tired of not even knowing who “myself” is. Most of 2017 has been me trying to convince myself I don’t actually want to die. It’s an ugly truth. Try to think about how lonely your life starts to become when that’s all you want to do. Image trying to tell the people you love that you just don’t want to live anymore. It took about 10 years to reach this point. 10 years of trying to find help, only to be given things that got me further away from that. I have always felt misunderstood in a world where everyone feels they have the right to be. I’m not going to lie and say it wouldn’t be easier if some just understood. I have found people here and there that can relate to some of my chaos, but no one who really got it. The thought that gets me through rough times is that I think one day I’m going to find someone(maybe more than one) that is at the end of their rope and I am going to be that piece to the puzzle they have missed . I am going to know how they feel and what they’ve gone through. It would’ve made many things far easier for me if I had just one person who got the depth of my struggles. I don’t want to be the mother I am. I don’t want to be the wife I am. I don’t want to be the friend I am. But I am who God made me to be and I know where is a reason for it.


Facing Extinction




Last week I had a doctor’s appointment were they told me the next step they wanted to take was to preform a scope, and just kind of take a look around(from the inside), so in order for me to do that I need to take a few days off from work, but I also didn’t want to lose any hours, so I had to combine a lot of my work days with days I was already scheduled for at night, also I had an interview today, one of my best friends Birthday party is Saturday and I have 4 doctors appointments that are in my home town (45 minutes away) to fit in there as well, and I’m also trying to fit some exercise time in there. Needless to say I’m already beyond tired and it’s only day 2 out of like 11 to go… I’ve been praying about everything(such as health wise), and I really feel like the scope isn’t something I should actually go ahead with. I wasn’t thrilled when my doctor was discussing it with me, but I was on bored if it meant getting some answers, but now I just really feel like God’s telling me not to go ahead with it now, I go to see this doctor on Thursday, so I guess I’ll wait to talk to him to make the final call. I don’t think God’s just going to leave me in pain the rest of my life(at least I hope not), maybe I just don’t need to know what’s going on inside my right now. If I won’t wouldn’t like the outcome of it, maybe it’s best if I don’t know for now. I am trying to get my body into better shape, by trying to eat better, drink more water and exercise, but right now I just feel hungry and sore. If this is 22, I’m kinda scared to find out what 30’s like… I suppose I’ll just keep hauling my sore body like a heavy walrus in the meantime. Hopefully I don’t become extinct anytime soon.



Birth in the Dark

June 28th 2010 my life changed forever. That was the day I had a positive reading on a pregnancy test I had taken. I was sure how to react, or what I should do. I called B’s dad and told him I thought I was pregnant, if for no other reason I could then have someone to freak out with me. The next day after I had gotten of work I drove out to see him, I was eating cookies and had started crying right before I arrived. Needless to say the first thing he said to me was “You really are pregnant aren’t you”, we laughed for a second then I went back to crying. A few days later I started having really bad pains in the abandon. I tried not to worry but the pain just kept getting worse. I finally got in to see my doctor and she preformed an ultrasound, where she realized she couldn’t see anything on the monitor screen, other than the cyst we realized I had (which is what was causing me so much pain). I’ve never heard a room get so quieted, it was literally painful. My doctor sent me to have blood work done. She said she would call me before the weekend to let me know something. The didn’t come, so I set in my bed crying, for the pain I was having both physically and mentally. I didn’t want a child, and I no longer wanted a relationship with B’s dad. But I was also going to feel completely crushed if my baby wasn’t living or going to live. I already felt connected. I would never consider having an abortion, nor could I have given her up for adoption. The following week my doctor had finally called and said that my blood work looked good and she wanted me to come back in. Which I did, and she preformed another ultrasound, and this time we could see my baby. It turned out I wasn’t as far along as the doctor had thought, which is why we weren’t seeing anything. But I still had a cyst, and at any point she figured it would rupture and it could cause me to have a miscarriage and also hurt me as well. They couldn’t do anything to stop it with me being pregnant, so we just had to wait it out. I believe it was about a week later when it did rupture, and I was in extreme pain for about two weeks, but my baby remained completely unharmed. Then I was back to trying to figure out what I was going to do. We were completely broke. We lived with (then) fiance’s close friend, and barely had money for gas and food most weeks. I drove without car insurance for over 6 months, my manual SUV lost 2nd gear, and we ate off McDonald’s dollar menu almost every night. How in the world was I going to be able to bring a child into this world in these circumstances? At 35 weeks, I went for a routine checkup, were they realized my blood pressure was running kind of high and wanted me to come back a few days later to check it again. I returned and after checking it again it seemed to have gone down. a few days later I woke up with a pounding headache, I was dizzy and my foot were so swollen I could barely walk. I waited for my doctor’s office to open, then called and they told me to come in immediately! After some in-office tests, I was sent to the hospital. Were I was hooked up to what seemed like a thousand cords and monitors. B’s dad had left to go back to work, so I set there alone in my room, terrified and miserable, for three days. 5am on day four my doctor announced I was being induced. I slept most of that day because I was on so many medications at that point I could barely talk. I only thing I could get out was I did not want a C-Section. I needed my fiance to tell me it was going to be okay and comfort me, instead he left my room in the middle of one of my naps and didn’t come back for hours (I believe a nurse had to go track him down while they were getting ready to wheel me off for surgery). at almost 5pm I was told I hadn’t dilated past 5 cm, and my baby was starting to show signs of distress, so I was wheeled see for delivery. I could feel them cutting into me, since I had had a epidural at about 10am that morning it had long wore off. So I was quickly put to sleep. I missed her whole birth. I woke up to two nurses in recovery trying to wrap me up in a bandaged. They wouldn’t tell me if my baby was fine or anything. I was finally wheeled back to my room where my close family was waiting, they had pictures a very kind nurse had taken (since B’s dad wouldn’t). Everyone had already seen her through the nursery window. She was hooked up to an oxygen tank, and they were saying they might have to send her to NICU. I hadn’t seen her, held her or heard her yet. I felt like I was in a bad movie, where the lady’s had her baby but someones taken it away and no one is saying anything. At 5am the next morning I was woken up to a nurse telling me they were wheeling me to the nursery to see my baby, since it was finally safe for me to hold for about 10 or 15 minutes. They wheeled me in the room and over to her “bed”. I just looked at her for a minute, she was tiny and had red hair. She didn’t look anything like me or how I had pictured her. I held her for 2 or 3 minutes then passed for to her dad. I felt so confused, I was and had been so medicated I felt like I was missing some kind of connection I was suppose to have. We didn’t have a mother-daughter bond. She could have been anyone’s baby. I wasn’t awake for her birth, nor did I get to see her for the first 12-14 hours of her life. I tried to keep my distance and remain quieted about my feelings, thinking that if I said anything out loud about how I felt, I would be the worst mother ever. I didn’t feel connected to her about a month or two. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her, or I felt like something was wrong with her. I just felt like someone had given me a puzzle with missing pieces, I couldn’t see the whole picture there were gaps missing. I like I missed the happiness that most woman have had, I wasn’t able to really enjoy any of the experience. It’s kind of like this quote from a favorite movie of mine. “My girlfriend always has that feeling that something’s missing. She checks her pockets, checks her purse, counts her kids, but nothing’s gone. She decided it was side effects from not going to her prom.” *Pretty in Pink*. I love my daughter more then anything! I just wanted to share my not as typical child birthing story. 


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