PYHO: The Drama Mama Takes on PPD

PPD…I have some fabulous online friends who suffer from it. When I look back through the pages of time, I’m starting to think I suffered from PPD (post-partum depression) when I was 20. I know my life was hell back then, but…

I remember some friends coming to see me after I had the twins and crying my eyes out because I had no babies to show them. They were still in the hospital in the NICU. The downward spiral I had after that…giving the twins to my parents for adoption, hooking up with a guy I clearly knew was bad for me, getting chased out of town by his friends who wanted to fight me (I still don’t know what I did, but it was probably nothing), moving halfway across the country to run away from my pain, and ultimately, attempting suicide…obviously didn’t do anything to help me get out of the funk.

I had no self-esteem. I didn’t even feel like I was good enough to raise my own babies (though it was the best decision I made for them). I was ripe and open for whatever predators wanted (and they took, gladly).

Today as I write this, I’m wondering if my life would have taken a different course if anyone had noticed. I’d like to think some counseling would have had an affect (and it probably would have) if I’d actually gotten any. Maybe even some medication would have helped. I was stubborn as a teenager though, refusing counseling, and I know I wouldn’t have taken any medication, especially if they said there was something wrong with me.

I have four children now in my care, two of whom showed up just a couple of months ago (almost as if my twins returned to me). I am married, though not sure it’s as happily as I like to say it is. My self-esteem is much better than it ever has been.

Does it ever get better though? Will I always question, “Is this normal?” or “Why me?” for the rest of my life? Will I never be treated with the respect I desire from either my kids or my husband, even after I have removed the doormat on my forehead?

I’ve heard PPD is usually gone after the first year. I didn’t get it with any other children, but even so, I can’t help but wonder if I did have PPD when I was 19/20 and it went untreated, did it set the course for the rest of my life?

I’d like to get off now, please.

 

Please note this is not a self-diagnosis. It is merely questioning a bad period of my life . I have never been diagnosed with PPD or any other mental health disorder.

Mother’s Intuition

Two weeks ago I wrote a post about When Parenting Sucks and our parenting decision to put Jellybean in a mental health facility for a few days to have her evaluated. What you don’t know is that she was released that Friday, with the same dx and on the same meds (with the same dosages), as she was when she went in. What she came away with, however, was a greater appreciation for what she has, parents who care, and the priceless knowledge that neither there nor juvenile detention is the festival she thought it was (She’s never been to juvie, but her behavior and impulses to steal were leading her there).

Things have been 98% times better at home, especially since we let her start with a clean slate. This means I have my housework back because she “doesn’t do chores.” This means I have to listen to the sibling rivalry all day for the rest of the week since it’s Spring Break. This also means that she is much more pleasant at home, more respectful. I hope this is lasts.

Last Monday she returned to school and discovered that someone in our neighborhood found out where she’d spent her previous week. Tuesday, she made the very bad decision to blow it up and glamorize her situation by telling her friends that she did intend to kill herself and the many different ways she would do it. This earned her a trip to the counseling office, and after an in-school assessment, they determined that she was not safe, and required an outside assessment before she could return to school.

Back to the mental health facility she went. She cried when I left, and I bawled most of the way home, and most of the night. I didn’t feel like she needed to be there. Despite what she said, she is not suicidal, and she was wrong to glamorize it like that, but she didn’t deserve to be locked away like that only a few days after being released.

Wednesday morning I awoke to an email from my mom. It contained powerful information regarding anti-psychotic drugs used to treat disorders they weren’t designed to treat. One of these meds was Respirdol. She was on respirdol for most of 2010, but due to rapid weight gain (she went from 75 lbs in April to 120 in November) she was taken off and put on another drug from thesame family that isn’t supposed to cause weight gain.

I decided to visit drugs.com and check out all the ins and outs of her meds. I mean, this kid’s just not right. It’s not normal to do these things, using suicide to get out of punishment or using it to gain temporary popularity.

What do you think I found?

Yep, that’s right. Both her meds carry severe side effects that include abnormal thoughts and suicidal thoughts/attempts. One of them also carries severe side effects of impulsiveness (which has been out of control in the past few months) and aggression (which is what started this whole thing anyway!).

I knew she didn’t belong in there! I knew it. What if the source of all her problems is an off dosage, or reaction to a medication?!?

I called and demanded her release, and she came home on Thursday. The extra two days she spent in didn’t have an adverse affect, but it all assured me that I am a good mom with maternal instincts. Perhaps I should listen to them more often.

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