Well, it’s no secret that I had PND after the birth of my second son.
Writing Beyond The Baby Blues kind of let that cat out of the bag.
(Alright, I’m exaggerating, the book was about all sorts of perinatal anxiety and depressions and mine was just one story in it.)
But today I want to write a wee bit about when I started treatment for depression AFTER that time.
It was almost four years ago, I think. And the good news is that I started treatment for depression BEFORE I got really depressed.
How clever was that??!!
Wish I’d done it the time before.
The thing is I could feel myself starting to slide. Slippery, slippery slide… horrible… and I knew exactly where that slide could take me. And really didn’t want to get there, get that bad again.
I remember talking to my GP before the Christmas and telling her I was starting to feel as if life was out of control, starting to feel the slide down which would lead me to uncontrollable weeping.
That’s how it goes for me. No suffering in silence or trying to pretend I’m OK. Just loud, uncontrollable weeping, for days and days.
It was good to share that with her and I made some appointments with my go-to-psychologist.
In the February, the slippery dip was getting worse, and my husband was about to start working in Yemen. So off to the doctor I went again and said: ‘Now is the time!’
I started on some medication, at a low dose which I increased later. I had quite a few appointments with my psychologist. She’ll be my go-to girl forever, I hope.
And it all worked and I didn’t get desperate.
And I feel so proud of myself.
With four young children to look after, four very demanding boisterous bairns, I just didn’t want to become really depressed. I owe it to myself to keep as mentally healthy as I can.
And it’s brave to ask for help.
So, I am still taking that anti depressant medication. It’s now a very small dose as life got so much easier, and I could feel myself getting a bit too up at times.
Soon, it’ll be time to slowly wean right off it. To exercise heaps, to look after myself, to keep that mummy oxygen mask firmly afixed.
If I hadn’t had the very bad, deep depression all those years ago, I’d never have learned these hard lessons. But learnt they were. And I’m glad to believe that I can get help sooner not later these days.
And be brave enough to call out for the help I need. Help we all need, and we deserve too.
If you meet me, please do ask me if I am OK. Might not be and you might be the very person I need to talk it through with.
R U OK?
Have a look at the R U OK? website if you need some help and advice about how to approach a friend or loved one.