therapy

I actually giggled when I typed the title of this post.

Not a 'haha' type of giggle, or a girly shy type of giggle, but instead a sarcastic giggle that not many would understand.

I chose the title because writing has always been therapeutic for me.  It always USED to be, yet I don't write much anymore.

The sarcasm comes into play because the way things have been going lately, real psychological therapy may be needed soon.  :P

I know it sounds like I'm saying that flippantly, but that's because humor is my best defense.

The world we live in, especially the Christian society, doesn't allow for much freedom to talk about psychological issues.  Christians hide things for fear of being less of a Christian or socially unaccepted because God isn't the center of your life (because if He was, then one wouldn't be having these issues).

Well, I'm tired of hiding.  I'm not going to survive much longer if I continue to hide.

So for some of you, this post is going to make you feel quite uneasy.  And feel free to judge as you wish.  Judgment by others means nothing to me anymore.  What's important is fixing me, not my rank on the Christian status board.

The past 13 months have been incredibly difficult for me.  I suffered from severe ppd (postpartum depression), diagnosed through a physician. I add the officially diagnosed part because anymore it seems to be the cool thing to have...  but it's not.

My whole life I've struggled with depression.  I inherited it physiologically, and also through difficult circumstances as a child.  I have had high moments and low moments. and then very low moments.

But since having baby #4, I've entered into a whole new territory of depression.  The anxiety and debilitating pain caused by a mental disease that can't be controlled can feel like torture at times.

Oh sure, there are medications to help.  I've been on antidepressants since having my second child.  It was my first round of ppd, but nothing like this time.  This time the medicine wasn't helping.  The dosage was increased and made me a little more functionable. Once hormones leveled out as well, I was finally able to start living again.

But there are times when things bottom out. The first time was about 5 months ago.  The doctor completely changed my medication and things settled enough.

Then last week I could just feel it coming.  I could see there was a hole up ahead and nothing I could do to avoid it.

When it came, I fell hard.

They say the worst part of being crazy is not knowing you're crazy.  I completely disagree. The worst part is being 90/10. Just enough sanity left to know how bad you really are.

When I came to that crossroads it was so easy to let go of that 10%.  so easy to just... give up.  But I had just enough stubbornness left to want to fight.  I knew I needed God to pull me out this time. I knew there was absolutely nothing left in me to save myself. I didn't even have enough in me to pray.

I'm thankful for those I can ask to pray for me when I can't pray for myself.  Prayer warriors who don't need to know what's going on in order to take me before the Father. I have no doubt where I'd be today without those prayers.

Today I'm... fragile.  A word I NEVER use to describe myself. I'm too tough and strong to ever be fragile. That's how I know how bad I am.

I haven't looked ahead of the moment to try and figure out what to do, what to change, how to prevent this. Right now I'm allowing myself to be fragile and numb and not allowing any guilt to come in for feeling this way.  I honestly don't know what tomorrow will bring. I don't even know what tonight will bring. I'm somewhat worried but I know I still have my few prayer warriors holding me up.

I just needed to write. I just needed some sort of safe outlet right now. I needed my own sort of therapy.