I debated whether or not I should share this or not - but I decided that it's just life, and it's my life right now. And there is some humor in it. I also think that there might be someone out there who needs to hear it. So, here it is:
I ended up in a psychiatric hospital last weekend (for the second time this year). I've dealt with depression for a long time (specifically from 7th grade, about October, when Shane Wilbur & friends took it upon themselves to torture me - calling me RuPaul, throwing things at me, spitting on me, etc). I have a strong family history of depression so I'm sure it would have come out eventually, but damn Shane egged it on. I started on some anti-depressants, missed a few months of school, and then functioned fairly normal for the rest of my school years. It came out a little again my senior year, but was nothing major (I thought it was then, but it really wasn't). After high school - shit hit the fan. I don't do well with change, and some serious change happened. Benj and I had broken up (after almost 2 years) and I was devestated, I moved away from home, to Cedar City of all places, to college, kind of on a whim, I wasn't doing Drill anymore so I wasn't exercising as much, etc. Next thing I knew I was super depressed and had gained 80 (yes EIGHTY) pounds. Obviously, that sucks, right? I was having some other symptoms and just feeling horrible in general but so much was going on I couldn't pin-point what was wrong. The next 4 years was spent pretty much crying & searching for answers. I had stopped my periods, my eyesight was shot, I gained all the weight, I had acne, I had a 'hump' on my back, my blood pressure was high, and I was seriously SOOOOOOOO tired. No really, it dominated my life. I remember telling my bishop once my schedule. I would get up and go to work, come home and be in bed for the night, without eating or anything, by 6. For like 3 years. At one point I had to arrange my work schedule so I could go home and sleep during the day. I did a sleep study and of course had sleep apnea and RLS, even possible narcolepsy. None of the treatments helped. At this point I was just feeling sad, down, discouraged. My self-esteem had taken a shot or two because I was semi-ok looking in high school and now I was a mess. I saw probably 3-4 therapists during that timeframe. At some point I was diagnosed with PCOS. Whatever.
Fast forward to 2007. Again with a lot of changes. I had gotten married, moved out, started school, quit work, etc. I should have seen it coming. Major breakdown. I got in with an APRN who said I might be bi-polar. She changed my meds and sent me on my way. I did ok for a few more years. When I say 'ok', I mean I'd have spouts of crying, anger, bad days. You know. Benj would tell you it wasn't 'ok' at all. Bless his heart. Then, I decided to get preg-o. Apparently, it sucks to be bi-polar and pregnant. I knew it would probably suck, but man. Anyway, my hormones went whack, again, and I could hardly function. The thought actually went through my mind "If I could only get to like 24 weeks, & off myself, the baby would probably survive," It was bad. My OB (love him!) made some medication adjustments and I felt ok-ish (well, better) until delivery.
Delivered. Blur of magnesium, sleep deprivation, new baby changes, NICU, hormone changes, etc. I was horrible. It was horrible. I had never felt so low. I never wanted to hurt Max, but I did have a lot of thoughts of him getting hurt (weird, I know). I also had thoughts of me getting hurt (popping my elbows out of joint, having my ankles cut with razor blades, etc) {haha - you feeling the crazy yet??}. Anyway, all I could do was cry and cry. I couldn't function, couldn't eat, couldn't do anything. Suicidal thoughts. I ended up in the ER and subsequently the U of U psych unit. I won't go into that, it was the worst night of my life. Ever.
So, since it is next to impossible to get into a psychiatrist, my sweet OB made some medication adjustments and I drifted thru the next few months. I was/am seeing a therapist. I don't think I realized it, but I was progressively getting worse. I started searching the web for suicide methods. I was interested in Carbon Monoxide poisoning, but after looking for a while got some better ideas. I won't get into that. I was fairly open about it; Benj knew I had been thinking about it, my sister did too. Blah blah blah, ended up in Highland Ridge Hospital.
This is where some humor comes in. Aside from the actualy facility being really bad (staff, treatment, etc, which I wrote a letter about and sent to my insurance, the hospital, and going to send to the BBB), being there was somewhat entertaining. I don't wanna brag, but I was better off than a lot of those people! Hehe. Let me just name a few. There was Mildred; schitzo. She wore a long, to the floor, puffy coat every day and carried all her clothes around. Any time anyone would go into a room, she would follow and pound on the door (which was actually quite disturbing). Apparently, she was bi-sexual. One day she was in the day room, dancing, singing 'I swing both ways!' and she would always ask her poor roomate to leave the bathroom door open when she showered. She often had her shirt up showing her belly. She was probably 60+. There were a lot of Vetrans there, not sure if she was one. She thought that we were all 'undercover' and spying on her. It was kind of sad, the other patients would totally mess with her. Another girl was bi-polar, but no really. She was only 18. She was also a cutter, so her arms and wrists were all bandaged up. It was weird, she would be super happy and hyper and dancing and singing and the next minute screaming, dropping F bombs, scratching herself. Amusing. Most people there came from hospitals from suicide attempts. There were about 5 older gentlemen who were Vets. I felt so bad for them. Everyone smoked like a freaking chimney. We weren't allowed to have really anything, had to ask for shampoo and conditioner (they kept them locked up because they have alcohol in them...). I thought that was semi-dumb because there were pens and pencils all over the place: I'd just as soon stab myself in the neck with a pen than drink conditioner. I'm just sayin.
Funnies:
-My mom & dad visiting and quoting "One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest" and laughing at themselves
-Sitting next to a guy in the lunchroom and him turning to me and saying, "So, what are you in here for?"
-There was a substance abuse side and a mental health side. We made fun of the other side saying they are just having a '3 day crazy' while they detox - we are ALWAYS crazy!
-The indian (Native American) tech that we called Running Bear because no one knew his name. My roomate was a huge ditz (-slash- detoxing from an overdose on Klopopin) thought that was his real name. She would always be like "Hey, is it 'Running Water'? I don't want to offend him!"
-One night when family came to visit, we got one kid to really act 'crazy' and be all awkward with someones dad - rubbing his arm, trying to lick him, etc.
-It's not really funny, but if you were feeling like it, you could ask for a 'cocktail' of sorts and a nurse would come give you a shot in the butt. I don't know what these consisted of, but it sure as hell made some people pret-ty happy.
-We had "recreational therapy" where everyone would go outside and smoke. If you tried to walk away from the group, a security gaurd would fire a warning shot from the outskirts of the fence telling you to get back with the group. No, just kidding. But really, you couldn't 'stray' off.
Anyway, I could go on for a long time here. But let me just say a few things on a serious note. I know depression is a crock of shit to some people. I know most people think suicide is selfish. I wish so much that I could convey to those people how it feels. You are so totally consumed with overwhelming sadness and dispair you can hardly think enough to get yourself up out of bed, let alone think of others. Depression is a selfish thing; it can be. But don't blame. It is so frustrating when people say, "Cheer up, try to be positive," Try to be positive? I am just trying to keep my head above water here. Or "Buck up, it's not a big deal," Makes me feel guilty because I can't seem to 'buck up' and it IS a HUGE deal to me. It is my life, and it freaking sucks right now. They gave us a worksheet to fill out. There were a bunch of questions that I flat out could not answer: "I like myself because..." "My favorite place is..." "... loves me" "What I really enjoy most is..." "The one person that always makes me feel good about myself is..." ETC. I don't want a pity party, I am just showing you how I think and how it feels to honestly not feel like I can answer those questions. I constantly feel guilty, inadequate, ugly, tired. I panic a lot knowing that Max isn't getting the best me that he deserves and I hope it doesn't ruin or stunt his growth in any way. Benj deserves someone so fun and happy and loving. I could go on and on. Regarding suicide. I am aware that most feel it is a cop-out, selfish to everyone around them, & that they aren't thinking about anyone but themselves. Normally I'd agree. Having been there, I'll say this. I felt that at the point I was at, both Max and Benj would have been better off without me. I wasn't functioning or contributing to them or our family. I knew Benj would re-marry and Max would have a good mom. We have fantastic family all around us and they would both be very loved. I knew it might hurt for a while, but over time and in the long run, we would all be better off. I honestly, in my heart of hearts, thought that. I had become such a burden, meds weren't helping, therapy wasn't helping, I didn't see any other way. Anyway, I'm just trying to say, don't be the judge, let God be.
Whew. Long one. This definately isn't over, I only got released from the Hospital on Monday (but I am feeling much better, thank you). I am thinking of making a blog or making a page on this blog dedicated to information on & my experiences with depression, etc, in hopes that maybe I could help someone, or at the very least, entertain people. Would anyone be interested?
Also - thanks to BENJ for being soooooo incredibly patient and loyal. I love him and Max to death.
Every year the night before the BYU-UTAH game, Benj and I go trash his dads car/lawn. This year we extended it to his grandpa and friend Ryan too. Fun. (BTW, the flash from me taking these pictures got us caught by gramps, he came shuffling out the door shortly after, so I ran).
Max had this beanie on {Grandma Kellie stuck on him on the way out the door cause it was freaking cold} and it came down over his eyes. He had been sitting there for a long time not making a sound so we figured he'd fallen asleep. I snapped a picture, and apparently he hadn't been asleep. I think he was seriously just sitting there pissed off. Funny. 
Eating at Marnee's
Playing with the kids on Thanksgiving.....
(yes, Macie is wearing a pilgrim outfit and peacock earrings, and yes, that pilgrim outfit has fit her since she was THREE and she is SEVEN, and yes, I wore that when I was little too so it is really old, and yes, I have told Rae she needs to talk to the pediatrician about Macie not growing.........if you were wondering.)
Getting so big! I think he semi-looks like Benj in these... maybe?
