Category:

Depression

Post partum depression, trucks and ponies

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I’m cleaning out my car the other day and finding the odd little things moms find in their cars – a pair of shoes, one sock, three My Little Ponies and a monster truck. These make me smile because at one point in my car all that was there was Chick-fil-a trash, which also makes me smile, but for different reasons. I love finding toys here and there, reminding me how lucky I am that I have two beautiful, clever children who love me.

But to be honest, after giving birth to them my depression worsened. My hormones and brain chemistry were altered and I went down dark roads I never imagined existed. Do I regret having babies? No way. Will I have more? No way. But I do want to discuss Postpartum Depression and Post Weaning Depression.

During my first pregnancy, I was happy a lot, albeit anxious, even though my family was facing terrible times – my husband’s dad died and there was chaos within the family. But my hormones wouldn’t let me be sad a whole lot during these times. After giving birth to a girl, I breastfed her for 8 months. I felt the depression creeping back in and I no longer had the protection of pregnancy hormones to keep me happy. I stopped breastfeeding cold turkey, without so much as talking to a lactation consultant or my doctor. I just wanted to get back on meds (at this time I was told by my now former psychiatrist that I would not be able to be on meds and breastfeed, which is not true).

The pain in my breasts was nothing compared to the waves of depression that crashed down on me over and over. I was suicidal. My husband and mom didn’t understand what was happening. My doctors didn’t know what to do so they recommended I go to the local psychiatric hospital, which I didn’t want to do and I found inadequate. I felt my whole postpartum care was inadequate, except for my OB’s care. Once I was on meds, and then more meds, the darkness began to let up. The suicidal thoughts receded.

I was on meds on top of meds and it was then I was labeled “treatment resistant.” I felt brushed off my psychiatrist. This was what it was going to be like forever? When my daughter was about 16 or 17 months old, my husband and I decided I would get off my meds and try for another baby. Secretly I was hoping to feel the happiness I had felt with my first pregnancy but no such luck. I felt anxious and moody, but I could go several weeks without a migraine, so there’s that. It was a difficult pregnancy – I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes at 20 weeks followed by polyhydraminos which led me to give birth to my son at 37 weeks. So I was relieved when it was over and I was prepared for the PPD, asking for Zoloft as soon as I could get it. My OB understood. Nobody wanted a repeat of last time.

And even though I was prepared and on medication, it still hit. It was more than the “baby blues.” I was sad all the time, I didn’t think anyone else could take care of the baby the way I could which led to exhaustion, which led to more anxiety and irritability. I constantly checked on the baby and worried. I was weepy. And worst case scenarios always popped through my head. Plus, I had a toddler to take care of. Whether you have help is irrelevant. You feel so alone and scared.  It’s like someone has taken over your body and brain. When it gets really bad, you have suicidal thoughts. If that happens, you need to tell someone and seek help immediately by going to the ER or calling 911.

The “baby blues” affects up to 80% of births, according to the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), but those symptoms are mild and usually go away after about two weeks. The NIMH also says that PPD affects almost 15% of births – that sounds awfully low to me – symptoms are severe and can began between a week to a month after delivery. Because of the severity of PPD’s symptoms, women may have trouble taking care of themselves and the baby, so it’s really important to take note of your symptoms – how long they stick around and just how bad they get.

Postpartum depression is no joke and I had never heard of Post Weaning Depression after breastfeeding before I experienced it. People are starting to learn more about PPD and Post Weaning Depression but it’s still something that needs to discussed. It’s not just a “women’s problem” that should be discussed behind closed doors. Forget that. It really does take a village.

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Hey – I’m cured! Thanks for helping

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I love when people try to help with my depression. Actually, I’m not sure I really do. What I like is when someone is truly educated about depression, especially MDD and anxiety, and makes a helpful suggestion, i.e. a certain vitamin or therapies I’ve yet to research such as TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) or ECT (electroconvulsive therapy).

What bugs me is when someone has vague knowledge of depression and assumes there’s a cure – there is no cure for MDD, only medication and therapies that can relieve symptoms. What really bugs me is hearing I’m doing something wrong or there is a cure and that I don’t want to find it. Believe me, I work hard at fighting depression and finding things to make me feel better. It’s no fun feeling this way.

And while I realize some people are truly trying to help, there are those ignorant people who fray my nerves whom I’d like to educate.

A while back I met a woman who had overheard me discuss my depression with another woman in my workout group. The woman came over, introduced herself and started discussing how society is overmedicated and suggested that depression was something we did to ourselves. We could heal ourselves. I felt so stupid and sick to my stomach. At this time, I had barely begun to discuss my mental health openly and I didn’t stand up for myself. She also began telling the other woman in our conversation, who had a thyroid problem, that she could heal her own thyroid through holistic methods. Now, I also have hypothyroidism and I want to say for everyone’s sake – NEVER DO ANYTHING WITHOUT CONSULTING YOUR DOCTOR. Going off your medication and trying holistic methods could do permanent damage. I’m not a doctor or a health professional, but please, always talk to your doctor.

Anywho, I was so upset I asked to change workout groups. Then I realized, screw that. This woman needs to see what a depressed person looks like – someone who can work out, someone who can be happy but have terrible days. And she needed to hear me talk about my depression over and over again. She needed to listen and needed to be educated. And hopefully, she has been. But the point of this story was that while thinking positively is helpful, you can’t think yourself happy when you’re depressed. Alternative therapies certainly can help but if you could cure yourself with happy thoughts then nobody would be in my predicament. Suicide wouldn’t be the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S.

I also want to address people who pinpoint one thing you’re doing and assuming that’s what’s causing your depression. If you are suffering and reading this, please let this be your takeaway: You are not causing your depression. You are not doing anything to cause it. You are mentally ill because of your brain chemistry and that’s not your fault either.

Here are some things that “cause” my depression, mind you some of them can make it worse depending on the person. These things have also been the “cause” of my migraines, too. What do you know!

Diet Coke, carbs, not enough sunshine, not enough exercise, not eating healthily, not eating enough, eating dairy, too much sleep, not enough sleep, negative thinking, carbs again and drinking out of plastic.

I also need to try crystals(?), essential oils, meditation (which actually does help me with anxiety), thinking myself cured and something about putting a banana peel on my forehead.

I’m always polite with the suggestions and maybe I should just tell people there is no cure. It’s a disease, I keep repeating myself but it’s unlike any other disease. If I had Type 1 diabetes, I don’t think anyone would list any of the options above. Surely, people know that you’re not responsible for causing diabetes, that you need medication to live and it’s nothing you can cure yourself of. Surely.

To sum this up, no matter what you can’t give yourself depression. Nothing you’re doing can cause depression. It’s not your fault, I promise on Diet Coke and carbs.

 

 

 

 

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Punch

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I saw my therapist last week and we discussed my progress, agreeing that my energy levels are up, I was in control of my eating (notice I said was) and I’m no where near suicidal. What stayed with me after this particular session is that my therapist said it seemed that I was so much stronger, I could probably punch through the wall of depression.

So far, I only feel punched by it. I’ve since been a little dicey with my eating habits, i.e. overeating on foods I have no business eating in the first place, and my anxiety has returned – did it ever go away? – at nighttime. But even though I don’t feel like I’m that close to making a hole in the wall, I can’t argue with my therapist. I’m not weepy or lying around the house all day. Matter of fact, I’m doing the things that I enjoy and practicing self care, which you can’t do during a depressive episode.

But how do I punch through? How does anyone make a hole in that formidable, rock-hard wall?

My husband says its about eating healthily, working out and continuing my current self-care routine. What do you say?

I just want to feel that happy feeling again, instead of feeling like I’m just getting by. I want to see the world in color again, to feel the reverberating warmness that brings a smile to your face and makes you sing in the car at the top of your lungs. I want to laugh my loud guffaw, and I want to breathe without having to count and without the sickening heaviness that makes me think my lungs are buried in a swamp.

Happy. The yearning to feeling that warmness is so strong it brings tears to my eyes.

How do I punch through before I get punched back down into the darkness?

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What do you have to be sad about?

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

“What do you have to be sad about?”

For me, this is the most frequent, and annoying, question I get when I tell someone I have major depression and anxiety. I get that it’s hard for someone to understand all the intricacies that come along with mental illness but come on, people. I guess that’s why I’m here – to educate.

I’m aware I live a very good life and for that I’m grateful, but it’s totally not about that. My brain is telling me to be sad and feel worthless. The disease takes over my brain. Neurons misfire and god knows what else goes on up there. Doctors aren’t even sure why exactly or how depression occurs but they do believe certain factors are at play when it comes to mental illness including:

photo of head bust print artwork

Photo by meo on Pexels.com

Brain chemistry – Unruly neurotransmitters. Neurotransmitters are brain chemicals that interact with neurocircuits. Research now suggests that the function of these chemicals is interacting differently with the circuits that affect mood stability, according to the Mayo Clinic. These disruptions can also create problems with depression and treatment.

Hormones – This one is easy to understand. The Mayo clinic cited many different types of hormonal changes, especially for a woman, including pregnancy, post-partum (we’ll get to that one day) and menopause. It also mentions thyroid conditions such as hyper – or hypothyroidism (which I also have).

Last but not least is the question – is depression genetic? Scientists are starting to find that one is more likely to suffer from depression if a blood relative also has the condition. A study in the American Journal of Psychiatry found that women had a 42 percent chance of hereditary depression. Men had a 29% chance.

So even scientists and doctors aren’t certain what exactly causes mental illness. It’s not 100 percent known how anti-depressants work. What is known is these factors can affect anyone – mental illness does not discriminate. It doesn’t care what your socioeconomic background is. It’s not just “homeless people roaming on the streets”. It’s not just those who are in psychiatric facilities. It’s 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. It’s not an imaginary problem – it’s an epidemic. It’s a homemaker with two beautiful children and very supportive husband. Believe me, it’s someone you know.

Each year more than 44,965 Americans commit suicide, according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. It’s the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S. and costs our country $69 billion each year – the cost isn’t what bothers me, I just thought I’d throw it in there.

If we don’t start educating each other and talking about the repercussions of non-treatment of the mentally ill, we are failing our children and ourselves.

That’s what I have to be sad about.

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Chronic Pain

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

All this time I’ve been talking about depression but haven’t discussed what everyone really knows me for – migraines. I started to get headaches around 4th grade and they intensified around puberty. When I was 18, I was finally diagnosed with migraines. This diagnoses came after tons of absences from school, a lot of after school make up and a lot of what seemed like judgement from my teachers. Not to mention a lot of frustration from my mother who just wanted to help me.

I bring this up because often with depression comes chronic pain and some doctors question which comes first – do you get depression because of the chronic pain or are depressed people prone to the pain. Research from this site says that anywhere from 30 to 50% of people with chronic pain also struggle with depression and anxiety.

And what really, super sucks for me is that my pain was invisible to (most) people.

It didn’t really affect me until later in high school and in college. As mentioned early, I missed tons of class. My friends thought I was blowing them off when I inevitably broke plans. I had to register with the Student with Disabilities office in college to get absence leniency, but that actually got me more eye rolls than anything once my “disability” was revealed to my professors.

What they didn’t know is that my migraines were so bad I’d have to go to the ER if my abortive meds didn’t work, which they often didn’t. I would be in pain and/or throwing up for days. My eye would twitch and eye lid sag. My whole body hurt – not just my head. Then I would get depressed because I missed so much class. Then came the anxiety. Then came on more migraines because of the stress of missing class.

When I entered the workforce, it was so much harder. My bosses didn’t understand. And really how could they? Unless I threw up and passed out on the floor (which one time I did) there really wasn’t much to see. I got written up. My coworkers got irritated that they had to cover for me. It was a mess. Then I would get depressed because I missed so much work. Then came the anxiety. Then came on more migraines because of the stress.

Thankfully, my migraines improved after I had children. What’s funny is that I recently tried some ketamine infusion treatments for my depression, which didn’t happen to work for that, but I’ll be damned if it didn’t (almost) cure my migraines. I rarely have a bad one and I NEVER go to the ER now. But I’d trade migraines for no depression anytime. Too bad I couldn’t choose.

On a side note, if you are suffering for chronic pain or depression, I would definitely recommend the ketamine infusion treatments. It’s pricey but so are doctors’ visits, ER visits and medication.

So tell me my depressed brethren – do you experience chronic pain as well?

 

 

 

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Happy and Depressed

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

Can you have depression and be happy?

Yes and no. This isn’t going to be confusing at all, no worries. I’m constantly wondering if those who have never suffered from depression think depressed people are sad or supposed to be sad all the time? I have Major Depressive Disorder and it’s treatment resistant so it’s really hard to keep at bay BUT I consider my life a happy one even when I’m experiencing a depressive episode.

Why? I live a good life. I have an awesome family. I talk to my mom and dad everyday and tell them I love them. My friends crack me up and I spend a lot of my day texting or messaging them. I love to laugh, although it’s been characterized as more of a hearty guffaw. I truly love my life and consider myself beyond fortunate.

BUT JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE NICE THINGS OR LIVE A GOOD LIFE DOESN’T MEAN CAN’T BE UNHAPPY – look at Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain. These are two examples of celebrities who “had it all.” Sorry to burst your bubble but depression and other mental illness don’t give a shit about what you have or don’t. They comes for anybody.

The problem with me is that my damned brain keeps telling me I’m sad – very sad – and you can’t always fight that. Depression is a disease and a deft liar. At its worst it tells me that my family doesn’t need me (they do). It tells me that I’m worthless (I’m worthy) and that I won’t ever feel better again (I always do). But it’s exhausting constantly fighting those thoughts and eventually you start to give way to them. Getting out of bed becomes hard, brushing your teeth is hard, breathing is hard.

Loeb_Family_March2017 (12 of 25).jpgFortunately, what’s not terribly hard is taking care of the kids, even through it seems unsurmountable during an episode. It takes a crazy amount of energy and a lot of pretending that I feel ok but the kids help my tune out the ugly thoughts, preventing me from showing them the sad side of their mama. They’re just too young to see and understand. Luckily, my mother-in-law is on standby and the kids love going to play at her house, so they might see Grandma a little more during the dark days but that’s fine – I’m giving my mother-in-law time with her grandkids and my kids the chance to make memories with their grandma, something I always cherished as a child. And I know they’re taken care of. It’s ok to take some time for you and for self care. Always remember that.

Every single time my little ones are at Grandma’s (and we’re talking a couple hours to a sleepover) I’m ready for them to come back home. They make me happy. And a little crazy, but mostly happy.

 

So, I’m not sure if this makes sense but yes, you can be happy while being depressed. I’m not always glum, dark and morose. The depression doesn’t go away but there are brief respites when the light breaks through and living is not so hard. For me anyway.

I’m lucky to experience those respites as much as I do; some aren’t as as lucky. And I’m especially lucky when it comes to the support I’m given and the resources I have for my depression. You would be surprised how expensive (medication, talk therapy, alternative therapies, etc) it is and how hard it is to find truly good doctors who can meet your needs. But again, I’m lucky. I just happen to have unruly neurons.

 

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A Case of the Sundays

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I hate Sundays. I always have – even when I was a little kid, which is understandable because Sunday meant back to school. It meant a homework assignment or project that was looming and knots in my stomach from another week ahead. I told y’all, I was a really anxious kid. I remember relishing the summer days when I didn’t have any real responsibility and my Sundays were mostly free of anxiety.

Until I “grew up” and got a job. Then the anxiety was really bad.

But even now Sundays fill me with dread, which they shouldn’t. I no longer work outside the home and honestly after a weekend nonstop with the kids, Mondays are a welcome sight as I send them off to preschool or summer camp for a few blessed hours of peace and quiet.

Yet here I am starting to shake and sweat. I can feel my cheeks turn red and my stomach is churning. That dark cloud, which is like a shadow these days, is there even though I had a decent day. That’s the not-so-funny thing about anxiety – your triggers never really go away. Anxiety sneaks up on you and no matter what you’re doing and how much fun you’re having, it comes back crushing your good mood and bringing on breathing exercises and other coping skills that you may have learned throughout the years to survive. Or just get by.

To be honest I probably won’t do breathing exercises or listen to my meditation app, which I know might help. Tonight, I’ll let anxiety’s best friend depression take over and hopefully I’ll fall asleep compliments of an Ambien (it’s prescribed). It’s just too much work.

One of my best friends described depression and anxiety the best. When you’re suffering with depression (anxiety is often a part of that) you have to actively remind yourself to breathe, blink and even move because none of those are an automated response anymore. Instead your brain is consumed with a dark storm that has knocked the power out and there is no generator. You are on manual survival mode and you get so tired of working so hard just to breathe, blink and move.

It’s exhausting. And I think that’s why people commit suicide – because it’s tiring, people don’t understand and it’s hard to get help. (I’m not suicidal, there are just my thoughts from today.)

But that’s why we have to keep talking about it. Over and over again.

That’s all for now.

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Hindsight

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I can tell you now that I’ve always had anxiety, even as a child, and I can pinpoint signs of depression as early as middle school. Either that or I was facing some wild ass hormones, compliments of puberty, although my cohorts didn’t seem to have it that bad.

When I was in college my Mema passed away after a battle with colon cancer. It was very hard on me and I started seeing a therapist.  It was during therapy that I knew I’d always been sad but I didn’t realize – or maybe I was in denial – about having depression. I didn’t continue therapy, I just dealt with my problems with what I now know to be negative coping skills: binge eating, compulsive shopping or skipping class and trying to sleep my anxiety and stress away.

Unfortunately those “skills” are still employed when I’m stressed or going through a depressive episode, which is a lot. Don’t worry, I’m in therapy weekly.

graduation2006

Graduation night in 2006. I had no idea what I would come to face in the next couple years. Er, decade.

There I was in my mid 20s. I was so sad most of the time. I was constantly anxious. I thought it was normal because nobody else ever told me it wasn’t. I knew I was more emotional than my friends, but I had always been emotional since childhood.

Finally, after I had graduated college, got a job and health insurance I saw a doctor who told me – you have depression and anxiety.

Where am I going with this? Depression and anxiety plagued me almost my entire life yet I knew nothing about it except that people who look antidepressants were crazy (so said family members and friends). I told nobody except a friend in pharmacy school that I was started on medication. I definitely didn’t tell my parents. When I quit my first job and was back on their health insurance I said I had PMDD, premenstrual disphoric disorder, (which I do have but didn’t know then) but it was easier to explain that I had severe mood swings during my period than depression.

Now my parents know. I think being hospitalized for suicidal thoughts tipped them off. And while they’ve never experienced depression and may not understand how it feels, they are very supportive. I’m just sad it took me so long to admit that I needed help.

Again, that’s why this blog exists. The stigma of mental illness keeps people from seeking help when they need it the most. It prevents people from being educated about one of the most prevalent diseases in the U.S. and I simply want to shed light on it.

So, let’s talk.

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Unruly Neurons

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I started this blog because I’m fed up with the bullshit surrounding mental illness.

What compelled me to start writing and blogging was when fashion icon Kate Spade (and later celebrity chef and humanitarian Anthony Bourdain) died of suicide. I was so upset about Ms. Spade’s death. Not only did she take her own life but also she didn’t didn’t seek help because she allegedly thought it would hurt her brand.

I was also pissed. I started pounding on my keyboard and opining a letter to the editor to our local paper, the Caller-Times. Here was a wealthy woman who had the means to seek treatment anywhere in the world – treatment that isn’t always available to the average depressed person but she was afraid of what others would think. The stigma of depression is what killed her and is what has to stop. We have to start talking about depression like it’s the deadly disease it is. It’s no different than diabetes, lupus or even cancer. I don’t mean to be dramatic but it’s not just two celebrities who died. I need to confirm this through Veterans’ Affairs, but 22 veterans die each day by committing suicide. It’s an epidemic, people. One that’s largely ignored and considered taboo.

What I don’t get is it affects 1 in 5 Americans – that’s about 44 million people – yet it’s all still “hush, hush” if someone has more than just the blues. Why does this bother me so much? Because unfortunately I have skin in this dark, ugly game. For more than 15 years I have been fighting depression and anxiety. My exact diagnoses is treatment-resistant major depressive disorder (MDD) with generalized anxiety (GA) and social anxiety. I’ve also been diagnosed with Premenstrual Disphoric Disorder or PMDD. It’s a real party.

The worst thing for me about having all these fun acronyms is that for the longest time I didn’t tell anyone, even my family, because of the stigma. People think if you’re depressed or have anxiety that you’re weak. That you have no willpower. That you can’t simply think yourself better, that you’re just lacking fresh air and sunshine. But it’s far from the truth. I’m one of the strongest women I know. It’s hard to go down a deep, dark hole where you feel hopeless and not so much like living anymore. It’s hard admitting you need help, and with that, pull yourself back into the light. It’s nothing but true grit to struggle through each day just to get up and do it again and hope for better. For all of you going through that now – know that I’m here, I understand and that this is a safe place.

I’m Heather. I’m 34 years old, happily (yes, you can be happy and depressed at the same time) married with two children – one girl and one boy. I’m a decent wife, great mother and a pretty good friend. But I do have unruly, misfiring neurons that can make this life pretty hard to lead this time.

Welcome.

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