I remember so vividly taking and uploading this photo. She was eight months old, and she pulled herself up to stand in front of me on the sofa. You can see the edge of the boppy pillow still on my lap from nursing her. It was toward the end of our nursing career together. Eight months was not as long as I'd planned to go. But there is something else I remember vividly about this day.
I remember the absolute terror I felt about everything in my life. There was nothing wrong, mind you. This was, in reality, perhaps as idyllic as my life has ever been. But I. Was. TERRIFIED. Of everything. Of everyone. ALL OF THE TIME.
When E was born, I had postpartum hypertension. Not, in itself, a big deal. But when added to my existing anxiety, it became an obsession. I was convinced that I was going to die and leave my (now) two children motherless. I imagined all kinds of ailments. I'm still alive six years later. That's my evidence that they were imagined. I'm a work in progress, y'all.
When I went for my six week postpartum appointment, I was finally (after years of anxiety) desperate enough to ask for meds. I tried Paxil and Prozac, both of which allowed me to still nurse, without much success. Soon after I posted this pic on Insta, I stopped nursing so that I could start Celexa, which finally gave me some relief.
Getting to that point took a lot longer than it probably should've. I went on Celexa in 2012. That was a solid seven years from the time that my anxiety started to get out of control. Why did it take seven years? Well, a lot of reasons.
First, I've always been kind of a nervous, panicky person. So, to some extent, when my anxiety started to really ramp up, it just seemed like...me. Sure, it was worse than usual, but...it happened incrementally at first, so it wasn't super pronounced, some of the time.
Additionally, at that time in my life, I had a doctor who wanted me to try other avenues to alleviate my anxiety before pursuing medication. In retrospect, I should've sought a different doctor a lot sooner. While I do think there is some truth to the notion that we are an overmedicated nation, I also think that when someone is having regular panic attacks that are continuous sleep interruptions (he also refused to prescribe any sort of sleep aid, ever) and also require a lot of time and energy to manage...well, that's kind of the recipe anxiety meds were created to deal with. So.
I guess, what I'm getting at is this. Listen to yourself. When things don't feel right, speak up. If your doctor isn't listening, find one who will. It took me longer than it should've to learn these lessons. Don't be like me.
For me, it took until a point when I couldn't enjoy my life, including this precious baby girl, because I was too busy being terrified. It took until I got to the point where I thought about the rest of my life and felt dread at not knowing how I was going to get through it feeling so afraid. That's not a way to live.
I'm at a point now where I sometimes consider weaning off the anxiety meds. I might, at some point. But I'll never go back to living in that kind of abject terror. Life should be enjoyed. Learn from my mistakes, people.
