Introducing Your Author - Part Two
I have OCD and it was apparent before the age of 8. How do I know this? Because the nurse for my psychiatrist did my intake. Half way through the intake, he stops and says, "Do you still count things?" I was totally baffled as to how he would know this. I had not been around this man since I was at least 8. My OCD manifested itself in counting way back then. So, why didn’t anyone see this 31 years ago?
I suffer from anxiety. I didn’t do this too bad until I reached college. I was the teacher’s kid. I got special treatment. People knew I was a "good kid" who made "good grades" because my father was well-known in the teaching community. Thus, I was given many a privilege just by my name alone. When I entered college, reality slapped me cold in the face. I had no clue that the world was so cruel. And, anxieties set in that to this day I haven’t over-come. Medication helps. Medication helps a lot. Medication helps A WHOLE LOT. Get me. I simply don’t back down on these issues. I’m passionate. Period.
I suffer from depression. I suspect my family situation lent itself to my depressive behavior, I didn’t have a very happy childhood. I suspect genetics lends itself everyday to my depressive behaviors. My mom is depressed and has been most of my life. My father was more of a manic person. Happy as a lark one day, a terribly unhappy sap the next. I am a clone of my father. It isn’t bi-polar, it is simply, depression. My maternal grandfather, my paternal grandmother and grandfather all suffer/suffered from depression. All of my mother’s siblings and one of my father’s siblings suffer/suffered from depression. People, it is in my genes. Just like cancer. Just like diabetes. Just like thyroid disorders. I could go on forever.
My father died when I was 19. I entered a state of depression that would have likely took down most folks. I say that because I’m telling you, my childhood was rough. Let’s just leave it at that. If someone out there wants to challenge me on this, a private email will do, I can settle it. No, I was not homeless or abandoned. It was a plethora of minor offenses that led to depression with me.
Anyway, my father died when I was 19. I’ve already mentioned that my father was important to me. I lived with my father from age 13 to 19. He and my mother divorced when I was 4. He taught me everything I know. I can’t think of anything I learned between the ages of 4 and 13 that was good. I see you rolling your eyes. Just listen.
Two years after his death and I was failing at a major university. My father’s one and only goal was to see that I got my Bachelor’s Degree in something. I chose teaching. He didn’t approve necessarily. I got my degree and I couldn’t care less about it. I still don’t except for the fact that it led to a Masters that I just got last year. So, even still, I give my father credit for that.
So, two years and I’m failing at the very of event of living. I sought help. I got it. I didn’t however get a good doctor. The one I got said, "I believe you are depressed, wrote me a prescription for Prozac and waived her magic wand." It was years later before I hunted a doctor that knew something about my problem. Family doctors simply weren’t getting it. They were writing and re-writing a script that a neurologist years before had started because she had no explanation for my body’s behavior…except depression.
This would get real long if I went into "my body’s behavior" so just trust me again on this one.
When I was 34 I met my present husband. Having tried out three others that didn’t fit me, I found a man who is 100% meant to be my husband. The depression started to fade. I continued my medication. I got pregnant and decided that it was best that I not take the anti-depressants. My doctor convinced me otherwise. I am quoting Kristen over at Motherhood Uncensored here but basically this is exactly what my OB said to me:
Yes, I purposefully sought out a female OB. She got it. She understood. She put me on a different medication. Which family doctors continued to write without asking any questions after we moved a state away when I was 38 weeks pregnant.
We moved home and I found a psychiatrist who KNOWS HIS STUFF. It took a while. He didn’t automatically find the write medications and the right doses immediately. I would say it took close to 7 or 8 months. No, really it did. Now, I exist on a small dose of 2 different medications. One specifically to treat depression; one specifically for anxiety. And they work. Both are long term drugs. Neither are of the "let me go get a pill for before I go crazy" variety. I have those. I rarely need them. I rarely need them because………..I TAKE MY MEDICATION THAT WORKS ON THE IMBALANCE. Simple.
People who don’t know…simply don’t know. I don’t mean to sound like I’m preaching, I’m simply trying to help you understand. Notice I didn’t say I was trying to MAKE you understand, I can’t make you. I simply want you to try.
I will hang on tight to the following statement and I’ll tell you again that it is a direct quote from Kristen AND an OB in Gainesville Florida…..
How does that old saying go…….walk a mile in my shoes
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