Friday, April 17, 2015

Maybe It's Depression?

Sometimes when I feel vaguely under the weather, I don't really connect all the random "not-quite-right" feelings into one, "Oh, I'm sick!" revelation right away. "Why am I so tired?" I wonder. "I feel thirstier than usual. What's with that?" "I'm kind of cold." And then someone mentions a virus going around, or another member of my family comes down with something, and it'll click. "I must have a cold!" And then the next day or a few days down the line, the stuffy nose, sneezing, cough, and other hallmarks of the cold will begin, as if by realizing I might have contracted a virus, giving it a name, brings it to life.

But it's only once I've decided, "Yep, I'm sick" and allow the symptoms to crash over me, to rest and up my fluids and behave accordingly, that I can then continue on to recover from that minor illness.

A similar experience happened this week, but it's not a cold I realized I have.

It's depression.

And it took about two months for me to link all my various, vaguely unpleasant symptoms, put them all into a box, and label that box "Depression," but once I did, it made total sense.

I've been seeing a therapist for several months now. I wasn't sure what I needed when I first made the phone call and set up the first appointment, but I knew I needed "something." Someone to talk to, someone to help me make sense of what was going through my mind. I wanted to be a better parent. I wanted to understand myself better. And she has helped me with a lot of those questions.

Then why, I wondered, after starting to feel so much better about life and myself and my parenting, why is it so hard for me lately to just be that person?

Why am I so tired? I mean, sure, the baby doesn't sleep extremely well, but it isn't worse than it's ever been, and it's gotten marginally better, and yet I feel so tired all the time.

Why am I eating all the time? I can't get enough sugar. All I want is pasta and bread and snacks and treats, six times a day.

Why can't I just focus on one task and get my work done? I'll sit down to do 20 minutes of work, and three hours later I'm still working on it. Sure, Facebook is engrossing, and Candy Crush is fun, and, yes, the kids keep distracting me and pulling me away. But even with all of that, why does it take all day to do one simple task?

Why am I so irritable? Every little thing any of my kids does just sets me off on an epic rant. I'm cursing more (I try to hold back the worst of it when I'm around my kids, but I've been letting quite a few more of those words slip through than usual). I yell at the drop of a hat. I don't like it.

Why do simple tasks seem so monumental? I have to do laundry. Ugh. Getting it out of the dryer is so annoying. I'll do it tomorrow. Cooking dinner? Forget it. I'll just make pasta. I have to put a check in an envelope and walk all the way to the end of the driveway to mail it? I'll take it out later.

Why is it suddenly so hard for me to run, when I've been running for six months now? I felt so sluggish, slow, like I had no stamina. I turned to hiking up the hill behind my house and staring out at the ocean instead of doing my interval training and working up to a 5K like I had planned.

Why do I feel so detached? Nothing is interesting enough to bother with. Yeah, I have an idea for a story or novel, but it's too much trouble to actually sit down and write anything. I'd like to read that book, but it's so long and big and heavy. I guess we could go to the park, but it sure seems like a lot of effort to get everyone into the car and all. Go to the beach? Nah.

The thing is, I'm functional. I do eventually get work done. I get the dishes washed and the laundry folded and put away. I go out and run/walk three times a week. I make lunch and dinner for the kids and do the shopping. I pick them up from school and get them to Hebrew school on time. I pay the bills and have been keeping up with the budget. I even took on a little extra work and am getting that done, too, albeit more slowly than I'd like.

That's where depression is so sneaky. It takes up residence in the back of your head and plays with your mind, manipulating your emotions and your memory so you don't connect the dots. There's no stuffy nose or vomiting or localized pain to signal exactly what's going on. There's no telltale rash or high fever to broadcast to you and everyone around you that you're sick.

But you are sick.

Depression is an illness. It's a physical problem just like appendicitis or diabetes. And just like those more obvious diseases, in most cases it is treatable. For some people, psychotherapy alone is enough to help them out of the fog of depression and on the way to normal function. For others, medication helps the brain manage hormones appropriately and regain the chemical balance that lets them recover.

I had my suspicions about two weeks ago, that maybe all of this discomfort was related. When my therapist suggested getting a psychiatric evaluation and discuss medications with a psychiatrist, suddenly I was able to throw all those symptoms into a box and put on that label. And even just doing that has helped me feel better. Just putting a name to it, understanding that this isn't the real me. This is an illness. This is the disease talking. I can manage a disease. I can understand it. And I can control myself better knowing that there isn't something horribly wrong with me as a person, but maybe I need a little help finding myself under this pile of symptoms.

It's so, so important to be able to recognize the signs and symptoms of depression. Depression can be mild, but it can still rule your life in a way you're not aware of. When depression is severe, immediate help is vital, but a mild depression can drag on for months without any obvious manifestations except maybe a little irritability, a little sluggishness, a little, "Huh, I'm feeling kind of...not quite me," and you don't have to let yourself feel that way.

It's only once you identify the symptoms, attach the label, and put it all together that you can begin to find your way out. You may not even realize how poorly you were feeling until you start to feel better.


Please note that many common antidepressant and anti-anxiety medications are compatible with breastfeeding. Talk with your prescribing physician about options that will work for your situation.

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