antidepressants are helping

It's a funny thing, antidepressants (ADs). On the one hand, I see them as beneficial for so many people. On the other, I tend to consider them the very last option for myself. I'm not really anti-medication, I just prefer to find natural ways to nurture myself first.

The first time I took ADs was a severe (to me) depression that followed my infertility diagnosis. Now is the second, and this time I don't feel depressed so much as I am anxious, stressed, feeling guilty, and suffering sleep disorders. Well, it turns out that anxiety and depression are like fraternal twins. I also have learned that, sometimes, regardless of the healing that follows depression, it can come back through a simple chemical imbalance.

So I shouldn't feel guilty about needing help. I cannot deny a conflict in my heart because I will always be profoundly grateful to God for his gift of my son, but for now I'm moving forward with medication. After only two weeks on the AD I can honestly say that I feel like a new woman. I'm not crazy-happy-unicorns-and-rainbows happy, but the ball of tension I have carried around in my gut has subsided. I'm much more patient and joyful with my family, and my son has been doing better because of it. Case in point: the other day my son was making ugly faces at me in defiance for gently telling him to take off his shoes. I made a similar face and genuinely laughed out loud, and he reacted by also laughing hysterically. It was awesome.

I guess this is my season for getting practical help while continuing to seek closeness with God, family, and friends.

sleep (and the pursuit of rest), part 2

So I went to see a doc (I don't really have a primary - I just see whomever they suggest at the clinic I go to) about my sleep issues. After a brief back-and-forth, he gave me a prescription for a mild sleeping pill. I took half of one that night, half the next night. I guess I slept a little better but felt like I had a groggy hangover the next day. A few days later I took a whole pill. Slept okay, but really not any better than when I drink half a cup of hot milk - and the milk gives me calcium and vitamins that the pill does not. Plus it's just more wholesome to me; I like the idea of feeding myself something completely natural that just helps me calm down, rather than taking a chemical that forces my body to do the same. Part mind over matter. So, I've decided to stick with the milk and I think I'm making more out of this than I should. Ironically, I've slept really well the last couple of nights - probably because the boy has a horrendous cold which makes him miserable, which gives us both a lot more to do, which takes a lot of energy, which exhausts me all the more. So I'm tired but at least I'm getting a solid 7 hours of sleep a night. And that is acceptable. Until I had him, I always knew that I thrived on 8.5 hours of sleep a night and that's probably still true. One day, that sleep will come back to me. Until then, I'm leaning on God to give me just what I need every day.

I'm convinced that what I really need is a better way to rest within my mind and heart. I can't always just stop what I'm doing and chill out (yoga helps, but it's only once a week). I remembered Jesus' invitation to "take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." (Matthew 11:29 NIV) but I just didn't understand it. I wondered if 'taking up a yoke' was an expression in that day, but an expression for what? A burden? That's what it sounded like to me. I wondered what kind of burden Jesus has, and why it would be so light.

Then one day a friend posted this on her Fa.ceb.ook wall:

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." http://bible.us/Matt11.28.MSG

Ohhh.... that's just what I needed to see. "Yoke" doesn't make any sense to me, but "unforced rhythms of grace" definitely does. A little gear in my soul clicked into place.

So now, before bed, I read that passage and consider each part. I am meditating on it. Every time I read it, God reveals something else to me bit by bit, angle by angle. And it occurs to me that all I really want is to be closer to Jesus. His life is the key to mine.

At our small group this week, one of the leaders asked us each to answer the question "What do you love about Jesus?" I immediately had a picture in my mind of an ocean with turbulent waves, dark clouds, swirling winds.. and in the middle of this a small island: no waves crashing on it, no rain falling on it, no clouds covering it, just perfect sand and stillness. Since I was near the end of the circle I had a few minutes to consider putting it into words. I said what I love about Jesus is that he is always an island of calm and peace, no matter what storms are going on in my life. I am finding rest for my soul, even if I constantly have to keep swimming back there.

Freaking out.. just a skosh

The realization of the impending one-year mark of my first miscarriage is already beginning to make its mark on me. Today I had a meeting with a colleague who's had three miscarriages followed by a (so far very) successful pregnancy. She let me know that another colleague is now 12 weeks along and will likely make a public announcement soon. In empathy she just wanted to... warn me? I guess. I thanked her, of course, for such sensitivity. We share an interesting bond for otherwise knowing very little about each other.


This afternoon, on the shuttle bus to the parking lot where I park for work, I caught a lump in my throat. I swallowed before it could affect my eyes. 


I am remembering Easter Sunday. It was early morning, and I pulled out my Bible from my nightstand to read while my husband was sleeping. Randomly decided to read a section in John. Chapter 15. Started from the beginning - the vine and the branches. Read through verse 7:  If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.


I stopped. Ran over the words again and again. I started praying. And weeping - just as I did when the wounds of my miscarriages were first rent. I haven't cried a drop in a couple months, not since I started taking anti depressants (which have been good for me, you should know). 


I feel like the shine is wearing off. 


Or maybe I'm just projecting the pain of the recent past into the possibilities of the future.


I need another glass of wine. cheers....

Now where did I put that pain?

You know, I was doing better for a while there. Moving through life, experiencing brief bouts of optimism, smiling at children. But two weeks after my last therapy session I started to crumble. I had a couple of episodes of public panic. I cancelled my attendance at our weekly church small group because I couldn't stop crying. I knew something had to change.

So I made an appointment with my primary physician and got a prescription for anti-depressants. At first I felt like I was raising a white flag, surrendering to the admittance that I needed help and wasn't quite getting there despite all I'd been doing. But I understand this is just a tool to help me cross a bridge; to put aside my agony so I can focus at work, enjoy time with my husband, keep practicing guitar... you know, living.

It's been about a month since I started this regimen. And from the very first day, I stopped crying. I have been feeling less overwhelmed each week. I am able to focus better on tasks. I don't zone out as much in the grocery store. I'm not quite barfing sunshine, but you get the idea. Laughing is easier.

The weird thing is, I feel like my pain has been put in a box and stashed away. I don't really know where it is - not that I've tried to find it. But it's odd. Before the ADs, I started writing a song about my experiences. After I started the ADs, I couldn't continue with it - I'd lost my dark mojo for lack of a better description. This is also why I haven't posted for a while. My therapist told me that this is a common complaint from artists who have to dig deep to express themselves. I guess I can live with it - the alternative (sliding back into dark places) is not so attractive.

Instead, I started writing a worship song. This is a first for me, and hopefully I can turn it into something usable.