Practically Paralyzed

I’m supposed to be working. But I can’t. I’m practically paralyzed with anxiety. About what? Everything and nothing.

I’m undoubtedly anxious about the impending life changes ahead of us — new jobs, new town, new home… But even when I can calm those things down inside me, I’m still left jittery, unable to concentrate on tasks at hand. So  I pace. I’m working from home today, so I’ve started some laundry. I go upstairs and then down again. I obsessively check email and websites for new rental properties to pop up throughout the day. My dog thinks I’m crazy and my blood pressure must be WAY up.  You’d think I was strung out on caffeine, but I haven’t had a drop in days.

I feel bad for not working (the goody two shoes in me), but really I want to scream at them, “Shove it up your arse!” I can’t take it anymore…what was I thinking agreeing to work longer? This is awful… I can’t even fake it.

Off to pace some more…

Celebrating amidst the anxiety

So today sig-o was offered a job in the new town we’ve been thinking about relocating to. And we expect a second offer to come in by the end of the week. So not one job offer, but two. In the same week. After months of nothing. Crazy! (I’m so proud of him, by the way!). So we’re celebrating, giving thanks to the universe for this gift and enjoying the moment of good news. This means we’re really moving. Really. Really really. I have to keep saying this because I can barely comprehend it still, even though we’ve been working towards it.

On top of that, we may have found someone today to rent our house and I found the perfect house for us to rent in the new city (fingers crossed for both). We could be in a new place in less than a month. Really.

So understandably, this is a happy time, but anxiety-provoking nonetheless. I’m trying to just enjoy the moment by taking a deep breath and letting the pieces all fall into place. I know, it doesn’t sound like me, but it’s true. Really.

The joys of (no) insurance

Ah, the joys of health insurance. I have really great insurance and can’t really complain about anything — they’ve always been great and have covered anything I’ve needed in the past 4 years, including two pregnancies, 3 surgeries, and postpartum depression. I guess I should say had really great insurance, since my company shifted me to part time without me knowing when (I didn’t think we had agreed on a date) and left me without any coverage. We tried to get put on my husband’s insurance but the deadline had passed so I’ve been waiting it out this month until April 1, hoping I don’t get appendicitis or a toothache or (more likely) a nervous breakdown. I’ve been coasting on meds I already had (thank goodness I had to get them in 90-day batches!) and have cancelled a few appointments and quit therapy. Probably not the best thing, but what’s a girl to do? Overall I guess I’ve managed ok on my own this month, but I’ve been totally paranoid that something will happen that will send me to the ER, and that has fueled some of my anxiety — and that’s a fire that, believe me, needs no stoking. Now I have to deal with switching insurance and possibly providers, which I’m not looking forward to. But that’s better than nothing and I shouldn’t complain about that, for sure.  So here’s to having only 2 more days to go…

Coming up for air?

Now I’m not positive, but I think I may have leveled off a bit after missing a week of meds two weeks ago or so. Lots of things still suck around here, but i don’t feel the desperation I did just a few days ago. I am, however, exhausted and really needed some alone time this evening while sig-o is working, but the baby wouldn’t go to sleep at his regular time…flippin’ time change has everything messed up. He finally dozed off, but now I’m too tired to enjoy my space or even write much here.

On another good note, sig-o got call-backs today for two second interviews. Keeping our fingers crossed. Earlier this week I was in a total funk about moving, not sure that it’s the right thing for us. I’m not sure about the new city and have a hard time seeing us living there. But after living somewhere for a total of 12 years, living anyplace else feels… weird. I feel a little better about it today, though I’m still not fully convinced. If sig-o gets these jobs though, I’ll have to decide something pretty quickly. Guess it’s time to make the old +/- list…

The teeter-totter

Anxiety and apathy have been my two best friends this week. I swing back and forth, back and forth. Anxious about everything and worried that I’ll never feel better and that nothing will work out with all the big changes we’re going through right now, and then totally apathetic, not caring what happens one way or another. At least the apathy gives me some rest from the physically and emotionally draining anxiety. Up and down, up and down. Like a bad ride on a teeter-totter. Can’t wait to get off this ride…

I want to believe…

What can I say?  It’s been a rough week and I just haven’t been able to post anything. I’m still trying to bounce back from a lack of meds in my system, which hasn’t been so easy. And stress has been HIGH as we try to figure out just what we’re doing with our lives. I was thinking today how I lately seem to have these moments of clarity (it’s either clarity or …well, I’m not sure what) and I see the world around me and I’m struck by how much it sucks. I know, quite the pessimist today. I do have moments when I find beauty in the most simple of things…but not often. And recently I haven’t seen any of that beyond z-baby’s face. But since he cut his two top teeth and has been into biting the shit out of me when he nurses, well, sometimes it’s hard to see the beauty there, too.

I worked my butt off last week trying to get the house ready (and sig-o did pitch in) to have a realtor come in and take a look and talk with us. Long story but basically, we can’t sell our house because we’d lose too much money in today’s market. So we’re trying to rent it now. Sig-o had another job interview and I nearly quit work altogether last week. We think the interview went ok but are waiting to hear something back. It’s all just way too overwhelming for me right now…some days I think I can’t deal with it anymore. Hence, my view that life is hard and it sucks and I don’t know what I’m doing and maybe this is just what being an adult is all about or maybe it’s what being an adult with postpartum depression is all about or I don’t even know what anymore.

I know, I know…I should have some faith, right? But I’m too blah-ed out to even focus on faith right now, to talk with the universe, to believe that everything will be ok. I keep asking sig-o to tell me that everything will be all right and I want to believe… I really, really do.

Flu + no meds = sad mama

Last week little z-baby starting throwing up one afternoon and didn’t stop. It was a two-way kind of flu thing and I started to worry. Just as sig-o got home from work and we were contemplating a trip to the doctor, my tummy started to rumble, too. And then it got ugly. Z-baby settled down and drifted off to sleep and kept nursing off and on a little here and there. I spent the night in the bathroom shaking and puking. I think the nursing was good for z-baby and helped him bounce back quickly, but made it worse for me because I couldn’t stay hydrated as it was. The next day he was ready to play and acted like nothing had happened. I was still trying to peel myself off the bathroom floor and fight a fever the whole next day weekend. Suffice it to say, it was an ugly couple of days.

The worst part, however, is that I couldn’t keep my meds down. So I’ve been without them for 4 or 5 days… I can’t actually remember. And I had missed a day or maybe two the week before. I’m a bad, bad patient. Non-compliant, they would say. But really I didn’t mean to… it just snowballed. And now I feel like shit. The kind I’ve been fighting for the past 5 days. I’m anxious, antsy, can’t concentrate, worried about all kinds of crazy scenarios again, the knife images are back in full-force, the air feels crushing…

Am I back at square freaking one again? Really? Because if I’m not, it sure feels like it. I had some bad days here and there, but this is worse. Now I’m kicking myself for not having tried harder, whatever that could have meant when I was as sick as I was. I guess the good news in it all is that I recognize how bad I’m feeling…not that I didn’t know I felt bad before, but maybe not to the degree I felt. And I know I don’t have to feel that way… Hoping it’s just a matter a time before the meds even me out again. Funny thing is (ok, not so funny), was that I had had a really good week last week and was thinking, “Maybe I won’t have to be on these meds much longer…” Uh, maybe the flu was the universe’s way of telling me, “Not so fast, missy!”

Taking care of mom

In a recent post I shared my birth story. What I didn’t share was how I felt in the weeks following delivery and how that time probably impacted my postpartum depression that surfaced.

I started back on an antidepressant just a few days before delivery because they already had identified me as high risk for postpartum depression. Having a history and knowing I was high risk made me think I’d recognize it if and when it came around…but I didn’t.

Looking back on it now, sleep was a huge factor. I didn’t get enough. Not nearly enough. Sig-o was a great support — I got up to feed then he took the baby for a diaper change and got him back to sleep while I dozed — but there were other factors at play. Like family. Z-baby is the first (surviving) grandchild on both my husband’s and my side of the family. You can imagine the anticipation. Not just the first, but the first after our miscarriage — everyone was on pins and needles throughout the entire pregnancy. So when he arrived, it was a B-I-G event.  And it didn’t take me long to see the pattern.

Everyone wanted to help us out. But their definition of helping was taking care of the baby. What I needed was someone to take care of me so that I could take care of the baby. Some may say I was jealous of the attention because everything was focused on the baby. But that’s not it at all. Mothering, and learning to mother, takes time and patience and a lot of attention. What a mother needs during that crucial time is support so that she has both the space and the comfort to do it. My family, and our society in general I propose, thought they were doing the best thing for us all by taking care of the baby so I could rest, take a break, etc… So you see the disconnect?

So what effect did this have on me? I remember sitting on the couch beside people who were holding the baby and falling to pieces inside (can we say anxiety?). I missed him so terribly and we were less than a foot away from each other! I occasionally asked for him back, but it was also hard when you have to balance family politics (i.e., making sure both sides of the family are getting their share of baby time) with your desire to just even hold the baby. It all started sounding silly in my head. I loved having family and friends with us and loved watching them with the baby. I started thinking I must be crazy or it’s just all the hormones settling back down. Sometimes the only time I got to hold him was when I was nursing him, and I came to cherish those moments each day even more because of it.

At any rate, I started staying awake at night in my room once everyone else went to bed so that I could spend time with the baby. Watch the baby. Hold the baby. Smell the baby. Nurse the baby. Let the baby wrap his spidery little fingers around mine. Just be with the baby without feeling like I had to apologize to hold him. Just me and the baby. Bonding. Uninterrupted.

So you can imagine how much sleep I was getting. I knew I needed to sleep, but I didn’t care. And when I went back to work the baby wouldn’t take a bottle and reverse cycled — he didn’t eat all day long and waited for me to get home and then nursed all evening and night long. So you can imagine how much sleep I was getting then, too. Long-term sleep deprivation is not good.

Looking back on this all now, I can see the anxiety and OCD already there. I thought it surfaced later, but no. It grew, yes, but their feet were firmly on the ground early on. Things snowballed and that’s how I got to where I am today.

So to any readers out there who are family or friends to a new mom: take it from me and take care of mom.