I Share to Be Stigma Free

Turns out talking about someone else's mental illness is easier than sharing your own :-p  I've shared the journey of my husband's PTSD and it's about time I share my experience with mental illness in detail to show that I am stigma-free       

#IAmStigmaFree

For almost 9 years now I've been told over and over again that my depression was postpartum depression (PPD).  I have an almost 9-year-old, a 3-year-old and an almost 2-year-old.   I received this diagnosis from 3 OBGYNs and 1 primary care doctor. I was switched from one antidepressant to another because over a few months the medication would stop helping and I would get a little more depressed than when I first started the medication.

Soon it wasn't just my depression, severe anxiety came to tag along in my everyday life. I actually remember the moment when my OCD, and therefore anxiety, kicked in.  It was like a light just clicked on. It was after my second child was born. He had a slight fever and as I was rocking him I began crying to my husband that I was afraid he'd die.  Yea,  extreme but my fear felt SO real.  

My fear of sickness and germs would soon suffocate me for years. I couldn't touch a door handle without washing my hands (even if they were cracked and bleeding). When people left our house, 1st priority was to sanitize everything to avoid sickness.  I could barely handle hotels and my kids going into nursery Sunday morning? You kidding?! My racing thoughts were literally out of control.

At home,  when I wasn't taking care of the kids' needs, I'd spend ALL DAY straightening up and cleaning my house for order and cleanliness   I was subconsciously chasing control of something, anything because like everyone else, life had played us some pretty intense cards and I didn't have too much control over those events. I didn't have great coping skills either. My coping consisted of turning angry, cleaning and isolating myself from the outside world.

Next came baby #3 and symptoms only got worse and I was put on two different antidepressants now.  My "PPD" usually hit while I was still pregnant.  During my final pregnancy my depression was getting much worse (thank God never suicidal!) so my husband and I prayed about my taking medication while I was still pregnant.  We weighed the benefits and decided to take medication.  It came down to the line of being stubborn and not taking the medication or taking the medication and being able to be the Mama I wanted to be.  

I tried to hide my depression for two reasons.  One, because the last thing I wanted to hear from someone who has never been depressed was, "Oh, it'll all work out. You just keep swimming dear."  Or "You need to get into the Word and pray more, not give the enemy any room..." I understand these people who say such ignorant things are only saying them because they care but the words are just that, ignorant-lack knowledge and understanding-and those words, make someone turn into themselves that much more.  Stop. Just stop.  What someone needs when they're struggling mentally is to know they're loved unconditionally, just the way they are.  The second thing they need, maybe just help. I'm not talking about professionally, I'm talking about practical help.  Maybe that overwhelmed mom needs help cleaning her house. Maybe she needs someone to watch her kids so she can actually take a shower, get dressed in normal adult-ish clothes and go out for a night with friends. Maybe you could help her see through the endless chores that are always begging her attention 24/7, let alone the little previous lives that depend on her, and help her figure out a system of cooking, cleaning.

Instead, what that Mama will find is, "Just pray more." "You need to just stop, gather yourself together." "Maybe if you had more faith in Jesus you wouldn't struggle with..." Seriously. Stop.  If you ever find those words on the tip of your tongue, and you're truly just wanting to love on the person, then just walk away.