Ahhhh, this weekend really energized me. I think it was because we didn't have to be anywhere for anything. So Steve spent Saturday doing yard work (our yard looked horrible, it so needed it) while I watched and played with the kids inside, and Sunday was spent at the Houston zoo for fun family times. It was great!
Now to try to finish my journey of.. well, whatever you would call getting help for depression/anger issues.
We had just moved into our new house, and I was somewhat happy again. I thought I'd do what I did when we moved into our first house back in Little Elm. Basically get everything unpacked and in it's place within a weeks time. That so didn't happen with 2 kids to take care of. Instead I thought about all of the things I wanted unpacked, and never really had the energy to do them once they kids were taken care of. Instead I wanted to lose myself in books or the internet. So I would read or get on Facebook or something equally mind numbing, and forget that I was surrounded by unpacked boxes and a dirty house. Eventually, on weekends, Steve and I would hire a babysitter to watch the kids so we could get stuff unpacked and put away. It took about 5 weekends of this to get the downstairs, bathrooms, and the kids' bedrooms mostly done.
Halfway through that process, I got it into my head that we needed to have a housewarming party. Queue me freaking out about the house not being done in time. The morning of the party we had most everything put away or in our room/closet, and the house looking nice. We actually had a great party and it made me feel a little better about everything, but I still wasn't really there. I started to lose who I was by this point. I was angry all the time, yelling at the animals or the kids (never Steve, amazingly), and I wanted to either read or be on the internet all the time (so much so that I would ignore the kids for hours at a time until I couldn't stand the crying anymore). I wasn't coping well, and my sister noticed it one day when she and the kids came over. There were still boxes all over the place (I had brought them out to their respective rooms after the party), and the house hadn't been cleaned in at least 2 weeks. I just didn't care anymore, and she saw it. And the thing was, I knew she saw it, and I still didn't care. That was so not normal for me (being so anal and OCD).
Then one day I was helping Lizzy go potty (we were halfway in the whole potty-training business), and Michael came over and tried to climb up on to the toilet. Lizzy started freaking out about being touched while on the potty, and I got so mad that I wanted to fling Michael across the room. It was like a wake-up call. It wasn't normal to feel this way. Luckily I was only thinking it, and didn't actually act on the thought. That night I asked Steve if I had always been this angry because I just couldn't remember every being NOT angry. He said no, and that it was like I didn't even have a button to push between not angry and raged. It was just there from one moment to the next. It made me feel horrible, and I decided that the next day I would call a doctor to see what I needed to do to fix myself.
Next day came and I called my OB/GYN office. I didn't know who else to call, and I figured that maybe it was like a postpartum thing that was going on with me. I explained what was going on to the nurse and she said that she would talk to the doctor to see if I needed to come in for an appointment. I got a call not too long later telling me that my OB/GYN felt that she couldn't help me. That I needed to see a therapist for what I was describing. It was like getting hit in the chest. I went right from maybe needing some help to needing to talk to a therapist. I just didn't think I would need to go to that extreme. Anyway, my OB office called around to some therapists and found one I could see ASAP. I had to ask Steve to take off work the next morning so that I could go to the appointment.
At the appointment I ended up telling him everything I told the OB nurse and then some. He asked some questions that I didn't even think would be relevant. He ended up diagnosing me with extreme mood swings, wanted me to take at least one night a week or every two weeks for myself (he felt that I was never getting a break, which I wasn't (I was always putting everyone elses' needs before taking care of myself)), and get on some mood stabilizers for medication. He also wanted me to talk to a psychotherapist about my problems, and to come back in a month for a check up to see if the medication was working. So that day I started my medication, and tried to get into see one of the 3 psychotherapists he told me to call. Problem was that it was a week before Christmas and no one had any openings until after the new year. So I just waited and took my medication. It took a little bit, but with some work I started to feel more like the old me. By the time I talked to the other therapist, I felt like I didn't really need to. She agreed, but told me some other things I could do to help with my anger. She felt I was depressed, and I was turning it into anger and rage. I was to exercise, write out my thoughts, and keep on the medication. She also felt that I didn't need to see her again unless I felt that I absolutely had to.
About a week later I went back to the first therapist for my check-up. He was extremely happy about everything I was telling him, and said that someones it takes a lot of tries to get everything right for the patient to get better, but that sometimes they hit it right the first time. Seems he hit it right the first time with me.
I'm due back to see him in 3 months to make sure the medication is still working, but otherwise I feel more like myself all the time. I still have my bad days (hey, I have an almost 3 year old and an almost 1 year old. Of course I get frustrated/angry every now and then), but I have more good days. I also see how much better the kids are now that I'm not angry all the time. I was influencing how they reacted. And since I was angry, they were angry, but now that I'm not most of the time, we get along a whole lot better.
Anyway, that was my journey through the whole depression aspect of my life. Things can only get better from that experience. And I will enjoy experiencing the joys and frustrations of everyday life in our household. Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll keep coming back.
Lizzy is definitely living up to her terrible twos, and Mike has started screaming his joy for everyone to hear.