About two years ago, I felt great. I was taking two HIIT (high intensity interval training) classes a week and when I wasn’t doing that I was training to run a 5K, a feat for me because I hate running. I felt so strong, so energetic and proud of myself. I was doing hard things, things I didn’t think I could do. I was a role model to my kids.
In June 2017 I ran the 5K. I was happy. A couple weeks later I started to feel bad. I wasn’t sick but I started to lose momentum with my workouts. Things that were once easy or doable became hard. Waking up in the morning was hard. I didn’t know what was going on. I knew I had depression but I was doing so well. It had been well over a year since I had Eli, it couldn’t be postpartum depression – I was over that.
I took whatever energy I could muster and put it toward the kids, which meant I suffered more. Showers seemed near impossible. I stopped working out. I just wasn’t myself.
In October, I hit rock bottom. I had suicidal thoughts. I was crying at every little thing. I felt anxious all the time and my marriage was suffering. Thankfully, my mother in law was helping with the kids.
During a school break, we took the kids up to my parents’ house. I had also made an appointment with a new psychiatrist who specialized in women’s mental health in Southlake. My then current pyschiatrist wasn’t cutting it. While my parents’ and the kids were at my parents’ lake house, my husband and I got into a huge fight and I just lost it. I was sobbing uncontrollably and suicidal. This next part is hard – I knew where some hydocodone was and I had a plan to take some but I didn’t want my mom to find my body. I called my best friend and she urged me to go to the ER.
I waiting for hours at the ER for them to transfer me to a psychiatric hospital. Around midnight, hours after I’d arrived, I was taken by ambulance to a psych ward at another hospital. I was there two and a half days. The psychiatrist there was a total dick. He wouldn’t release me until he “talked to my husband about my illness” and didn’t listen to anything I said. Because I had an appointment with the psychiatrist in Southlake, he ended up letting me go after talking to my husband of course.
When I met with Dr. Johnson, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. She diagnosed me with Major Depressive Disorder, PMDD, generalized anxiety disorder and social anxiety. My old doctors just said I was depressed and never spent more than 15 minutes with me. Dr. Johnson spent more than an hour talking to me. She put me on medications I had never heard of, that my doctors never mentioned, and I left the office crying tears of happiness.
I did get better, I’m better than I was that awful October but I’m treatment resistant, so medication can only go so far for me. That’s why I try alternative treatments like TMS, ketamine infusions and soon the ketamine nasal spray. Right now, I’m definitely not suicidal but I have to struggle though days, some more than others.
If you’re suicidal, please go to the nearest ER or tell your doctor – any doctor. There is help and it does get better. You can also call the suicide hotline at 1-800-273-8255. Someone is there 24 hours a day to help you.
Thanks for listening. This blog was a hard one to write.