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My Disclaimer:
I’m going to get real down and dirty with you guys in this post for two reasons:
- I need to write this down for my own mental processing and
- I think that it might help others to read it for various reasons.
Before I begin, you should know this is going to be a dark post, likely void of my usual banter, and I’m going to go to a place that I only just last weekend admitted out loud that I’ve been. If you’re in a dark mood, you might want to steer clear. If you don’t want to know these things about me, skip this post.
You should know that I am not putting this out there because I want pity or am crying for attention. Of course, one can never have too many hugs, but my hope is that I can help someone who is experiencing this before they get in too far. Don’t take this post as anything but sharing my authenticity with you, in hopes that you’ll understand a little more about me.
A great deal of thought and time went into composing this. I contacted my parents, brother, Clint’s parents, and a couple close friends to tell them about this so they didn’t first learn about it by reading it on my blog. I sought advice from several people about whether or not I should expose this publicly. I contacted my youth pastor, telling him that I wanted to put this out there. I expressed my concern that my youth group girls and their parents would read this and fear that their youth leader is a total nutjob. His response was one of full support, saying that if there were any concerns or dissent about me leading while dealing with this, that he would tackle it head-on.
This experience has taught me how incredible my support system is.
So, with all my ducks in a row, this is my story.
The Gradual Lead Up
I have struggled with depression in my recent past. The worst of it had presented itself as post-partum depression (PPD). Knowing this, my doctor put me on an antidepressant two weeks before the babies were born, so that it’d be in my system. It worked incredibly well. I enjoyed my babies and I didn’t find myself struggling mentally like I had with my other two. I stayed on the meds until the twins were about 10 months old, when I accidentally skipped a dose. Then two. Then three… soon enough, I decided I might as well go cold turkey and see how it would all pan out.
Needless to say, my doctor wasn’t entirely thrilled with that decision.
The best way I can describe what happened next is using my only basis for total discomfort: Labor.
To me, the antidepressant was my epidural. When I stopped taking it, it was like taking the epidural away at the end of labor: What I didn’t feel or experience while I was on the medication, quickly inundated me. Immediately, I found myself overwhelmed by everything. The even-keel feeling I had experienced on the medication was replaced with anxiety and chaos.
I took a mental step back.
You have four kids, Lindsay, I rationalized. You’re supposed to be a little overwhelmed.
So, I tuned up my coping skills. I worked on my patience level and used breathing techniques and anything I could think of to calm myself down. Initially, it worked and I felt proud that I had fixed myself.
Soon, those depression symptoms began creeping back, though I didn’t recognize that they were signs of depression. I noticed it more prevalently just before my period. Mentally, I would be worst about a day before my period. Then, the next month, it was two days, three… the symptoms stretched a little longer each month until I finally realized that two or more weeks of the month, I was experiencing some pretty severe symptoms.
All the while, I recognized that things weren’t right with me, but convinced myself that I could fix it. After all, I fixed it before, I assured myself. Because the symptoms didn’t seem to last all month, I would shrug it off. When the next month rolled around, the mental
