Pouring my heart out

*This was originally published on the 18th of this month, but wanted to link up and share it again.*

I have sat down many times and tried to write this post. Wondering if I should, wondering what people would think, and wondering if I should share something so personal. Wondering if I was able to let anyone in this time, if I should share my struggle or just get better and move on. But then I realized that not sharing this wasn't who I was, so slowly but surely, I finally found the words.
It took me a week. A week of trying to hide. A week of shutting down my personal life, and not really caring about anything but what 100% needed to be taken care of. My kids, my work, exercise, and showering. I hate to say it but even my husband and best friend have been feeling the effects of this....that's hard to admit, but it's true. Considering my husband has to live with this everyday....well I'm just blessed he loves me as much as he does.

The first time I ever got diagnosed with depression was when the girls were around 3.5 weeks old. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Walking into the doctors office, having a meltdown, feeling like I could not breathe or talk. I was so scared, and felt so helpless. After 6 years of infertility, feeling like I didn't want my children, and asking myself why I tried so hard...well, lets just say that's a very scary feeling to have. After a while I eventually got better, I eventually could enjoy being a Mom. It took some time, but it happened. I remember laying in bed with them while they were crying one night, around 3am. Instead of sitting there feeding them and crying along with them....I was just calmer, not so anxious, and I think then it finally hit me that it was going to be okay....that this was life now, and I had adjusted to having two new little babies in my world.
This time, I wasn't expecting it. I didn't think that the loss my family experienced was going to make me spiral down so far. I was sad. I allowed myself to be sad....I let myself FEEL being pulling me down, but I quickly said "it's not going to happen" and honestly I just wrote it off as grief. Grief is tricky. You go through it in stages, and in no particular order. So who was I to just say "oh I'm depressed again, lets get me medicated and I'll be fine!" I didn't want to do that again.
I fought. And I fought for many reasons.
I was embarrassed , I felt like I was failing at my job, failing at what I do to make an impact in this world, and failing as a Mom, friend and wife. I was not going to admit I needed help AGAIN. I was going to be like those people who say to read personal development, workout everyday, repeat happy thoughts and words to yourself, and EVERYTHING will be okay!
Last weekend, I had a panic attack. I was doing nothing but what I normally do after baths, snuggling with my kids in my bedroom. I got shaky, anxious, hot, and felt like I was going to pass out...I started crying for no reason, and couldn't even stand to be in the same room with them. I got up and looked in the mirror, calmed myself down, and what I saw was the same person I saw 6.5 years ago when this first happened to me. Then, I got even more scared....because it hit me. It really was happening. Again.
I walked downstairs, saw the look in my husbands eyes, and knew what I needed to do. He suggested getting back on Zoloft again, but I said I would think about it the next day...I was totally clammed up and couldn't talk. But that following Monday, I was at the doctor....experiencing that feeling again, having him ask me what's wrong, and breaking down, hearing the words "severe depression" and walking out with a script in my hand.
It's been 8 days. It's NOT been 8 wonderful days. It's been 8 days of sorting through feelings. Sorting through my thoughts, hoping and praying that one of these days I'll wake up, and feel like ME again. Knowing that deep down, I am still me. I just have to get better, and find myself again.
I have been hard to love, and not a very good friend the past month and a half. Knowing me, you can probably believe that I have some guilt about that. And I do....but not to everyone. Only the ones who have been there, and I have tried to shut out, but were still there. Only the ones who kept their promise to me, and stood by me through this difficult time.
I'll be better soon. thanks for reading if you made it this far.