Maternal Mental Health Month

In May 2011, Postpartum Support International (PSI) declared May as Maternal Mental Health Awareness Month. Over the past few weeks I've been busy writing some pieces in support of the efforts to raise awareness of women's mental health before, during and after pregnancy. Two were published recently and I'm proud to share them with you.

Yesterday was the 5th annual Mother's Day Rally for Moms' Mental Health, hosted by Postpartum Progress, the most widely-read blog in the world on postpartum depression and other mental illnesses related to pregnancy and childbirth. It featured 24 letters (one of them was mine!) from survivors of PPD, postpartum anxiety, postpartum OCD, depression after weaning and/or postpartum psychosis. Their purpose is to inform and encourage pregnant and new moms who may be struggling with their emotional health. I was honored to be included again this year.

Along those same lines of postpartum and mental health, today a piece I wrote for WhatToExpect.com’s Word of Mom blog went live. (Yes, that’s really me in the picture included in the post!) In it I describe the feelings of guilt and sadness I experienced when I had to quit breastfeeding because I needed to return to my medication. I've learned that no mom should put unnecessary pressure on herself to breastfeed, especially if her mental health is at risk.

I hope you have a chance to check out these posts and please share if you know someone who might benefit from the information within. Thanks so much and I hope all those moms out there had a great Mother's Day yesterday!

My story on It's All In Her Head

A few months ago I attended the Wild Mountain Memoir Retreat in Leavenworth, Washington. It was my second writer's conference, but that didn't make me any more confident in my writing ability. I was going for the sole purpose of learning the best way to go about writing a memoir. I needed advice on structure, voice, publishing, and most of all, I wanted to learn the secrets to becoming a better writer.

I had no idea that I would leave Wild Mountain more inspired, more motivated and more excited about my writing than ever before.

But those weren't even the best things that came out of the retreat.

I met intelligent, forward-thinking, fun-loving, witty writers who I feel incredibly fortunate to know now, to be able to call them friends. Real life friends. Their friendships were by far the greatest take-away I could have ever asked to receive through spending a long weekend surrounded by nature in all its glory.

I learned a TON at Wild Mountain, and it took me what felt like a month to digest it all. I got home and began to work on applying what I had learned. I reached out to my new writer friends for editorial guidance and encouragement. I came out of the closet about my illness. It felt liberating, not having to hide anymore.

I was encouraged by several people from Wild Mountain, to submit to an online anthology being created by the wife of one of the instructors. I was intrigued. After reading what it was all about, I was pumped to contribute. I was positive I wanted to be a part of her project.  The hardest part was finding time to write it all out. I knew my piece would be long and I had a hard time figuring out what to keep and what to cut, while still showcasing in detail what I went through when I was diagnosed and how I was able to pull through the sadness and intense anxiety over my illness to get to where I am today.

It took longer than I anticipated, and I kept emailing Laura to tell her I needed just “one more day” which she always granted me graciously. I’m so pleased with how it turned out and it’s my hope that it sheds some light on what it’s like to be hit with a mental illness out of nowhere. To live a year of your life in darkness, not able to care about the next day because this day is too heavy to carry. To keep fighting until one day you realize that everything is okay. That today isn’t scary anymore because of all the tools and resources you’ve accumulated over the years. The tools and resources which help to keep you healthy and alive and enthusiastic about the future.

That’s where I am right now. I know that there will be plenty of waves ahead of me in life. I just feel as though I’ve finally realized that I can surf.

My piece went live this morning on It's All In Her Head. If you have a chance to read it, I’d love to hear your feedback. And if you know someone who might be inspired by reading this piece, please share. Thanks so much and Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there!

Brave: Five Minute Friday {5}

BRAVE

The choice to end life. To stop living. To not go on any longer because fighting is too hard, it's exhausting, and giving up would be so much easier.

The plan was made. Actions carried out.

The sand was slipping swiftly through the hourglass of life. Time was literally running out.

Then, suddenly, something awoke within her. She called out for help. And her cry for help was answered.

Natalie made the choice to be brave.

Now, she is telling her truth. I am watching her exude brave.

And I am so very proud of my friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday, May 5th is her Live Day anniversary. I am running a 5k to recognize and celebrate her decision to choose life. In honor of Natalie's battle to overcome suicide, I am walking The American Federation for Suicide Prevention's Overnight Walk, June 1st-2nd.

Please visit Natalie's blog, ItWillNeverHappen2Me.com, to read her story of what took place a year ago this weekend.

My husband, our chef

Saturday morning we were all anticipating my husband's arrival home, as he had been away all week on a business trip in Austin, Texas. It had been a long, draining five days of doing ALL THE THINGS by myself and I was tired. The kids couldn't wait to see their Daddy, especially our son who was anxiously wondering whether his father was going to be bringing him home the Lego City Police Station, a toy carrot he had dangled to ensure good behavior for Mommy. {It really came from his Grandma, but she wanted us to say it was from Daddy and we didn't object.} It worked like a charm. Or maybe that was because I continuously reminded him of the reward he would receive for said good behavior. Hey, I never said I was above bribes.

Swim class that morning was the last hurdle I had to jump over with the two kiddos before I could breathe easy knowing my better half would be home two hours later. And it wasn't even that bad since baby girl wasn't feeling well that meant I didn't have to attend her class with her, giving us both the luxury to sit on the bench and relax, watching her brother splash and float during his lesson.

Home again, I made lunch and the kids ate and then it was time for naps and quiet time. I wanted myself to curl up and take a quick snooze before my husband got home, but instead I began the process of tidying up the house {aka dusting, vacuuming, and re-arranging our masses of clutter} since we were having friends over for dinner later that evening.

A few hours later and all was well in our world. I had raced to the store and back for fresh ingredients, while the kids got to fill their father in on all their adventures during the time he was away. Lots of hugs were exchanged and plenty of snuggles for baby girl who was feeling the unpleasant effects of the massive amount of pollen in the springtime air. Our little man talked his dad into building the two vehicles that came with his Lego police station, so as to appease him until the next day when they could spend a few hours putting the entire set together. Our daughter had fun dressing and re-dressing her Melissa & Doug ballerina magnet doll. {Another new toy from their Grandma. She loves to spoil her grandkids and we let her.}

Then my husband got to work in the kitchen, preparing the meal for the evening once our guests had arrived. It was so nice to see our friends who live close, but not close enough that impromptu visits are easy and frequent. Instead, we have to plan a few months ahead and then pray that kids stay healthy so that we can keep the date. It worked out this time since allergies were the culprit behind our little girl's scratchy throat and sneezy, drippy nose. The kids easily connected around the water table and played together happily as we adults caught up over appetizers and drinks.

I love watching my man cooking dinner. He is very methodical in how he approaches the tasks of the recipe, which he usually follows to a perfect T each and every time. This time we were trying out a new dish, Lemon Garlic Scallops with Rustic Farro Risotto, from my friend's food blog, with asparagus on the grill to accompany it. I try not to impede on the way he moves about the kitchen, but of course I find myself critiquing and offering suggestions on how he should be searing or grilling or stirring, when I really should just keep my mouth shut because his food always comes out delicious.

I know how lucky I am to have an amateur chef as a husband. I've finally come to realize this after almost ten years of marriage. He generally does all the cooking in our house, because every so often when I do try my hand at putting a meal together, nine times out of ten it turns out terrible. Sometimes worse than terrible. I get mad, curse myself for the wasted time and effort, and my pride suffers. Then I swear I'm never cooking another meal for him again because whenever I do, he turns his nose up at it. {This is because it is terrible, remember, so I really can't blame him.} But over the years I have slowly accepted the fact that he's simply better at cooking than I am and I should embrace it rather than try to compete with it.

So with that, I present to you: my husband the chef.

And now, please excuse me while I go pin some new recipes for him to try.

I love you, honey. Thank you for feeding our family with love.

"Cooking today is a young man's game. I don't give a bollocks what anyone says." ~ Gordon Ramsay

10:35pm - Edited to add:

When Ben got home tonight, I asked him read my post, as I usually do on the days that I publish. Reading over his shoulder as he scrolled through the post, I noticed that I had forgotten something very important when writing this piece.

When I first became sick at the end of 2005, I struggled with eating a great deal in 2006. From the mix of medications I was on to the raging anxiety that had taken over my body, sitting down to enjoy a meal three times a day was a distant memory from my past. Some days I was nauseous from the moment I woke up until I crawled into bed at the end of the night. I lost about 12 pounds, which may not sound like all that much, but for someone who is only 5 feet, 2 inches tall, it's a big deal. I remember looking back at pictures from that summer and my cheeks were sunk inward on my formerly chubby face, my arms seemed like pencils they were so thin. But my loving husband did not give up on me. He tried new recipes he thought I might like, went back to some of our old favorites from college when he used to cook to impress me while we were courting, and kept me smiling with his extravagant baking to appeal to my sweet tooth {and in the hope that I'd consume some calories, even if they were all sugar}.

Anyone who has ever been clinically depressed knows what I mean when I say it was impossible to eat at times. My appetite was squashed by my diagnosis and meds, and my formerly sunny, outgoing personality had also been beaten up pretty badly. If my husband wasn't there by my side, encouraging me to keep trying, taking me on dates to our favorite Indian restaurant at least once a week, I may have lost more than the weight I did that year. I may have lost my power to fight the illness that had knocked me down.

I am forever grateful to my better half, for not only sticking with me, but for feeding me when I needed fed. He fed me with his love, his optimism, and his incredible culinary skills.

I love you with all my heart, honey.

xoxoxo

Happify yourself!

I attended Listen To Your Mother DC yesterday and it was another incredible show. At the after-party, I met up with several cast members from last year's show, as well as had the opportunity to meet some of this year's lineup. It was really fun to get to know such intricate, intelligent writers. The stories from the show were so moving, funny, and touching, it was an honor to be in the audience listening {and drying an eye from time to time}. As we chatted over a carafe of yummy sangria, the conversation turned to blogging and I ironically found myself mentioning how I don't really enjoy reading blog posts when the writer is reviewing a product.

And here I am writing my own. Funny how things come around, right?

I like to think this is a little different though, in that I wasn't provided a bunch of free loot in exchange for writing a review on my blog. I wasn't given anything, in fact, except this cute little button to add to my blog. I simply happen to enjoy this site and wanted to share it with my readers. I believe it has an especially positive impact on folks like me who live with some form of depression {or have struggled with it in the past}, because they may experience psychological benefits from participating and learning the science behind what creates our happiness.

{I am not a doctor, by any means. I have though, read about the positive adjustments we can make to our moods by learning and then doing the activities that make us happy. I very much believe in the science of happiness, and therefore, I believe in Happify. Please, read on to find out why.}

Several months ago I was contacted by one of the Co-Founders of Happify via Twitter and was asked whether I'd like to join on as a Pioneer. Happify is a NYC-based company with a vision of bringing the science of happiness to mass market in an entirely new kind of way. They created an exciting new social network product which uses media, interactive activities and games, as well as social connections and comment features which allow users to form daily happiness habits while at the same time "meeting" other like-minded happiness seekers. I was curious. My issue was with the number of social networks which I was already using: Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Vine, and Instagram. I can barely keep up with them all as it is, and wasn't sure I wanted to add another one into the mix.

But who wouldn't want to learn more about how to increase their level of happiness each day while enjoying a little break from our everyday reality? Sounded like a Win-Win.

So I signed up and immediately jumped into the site to set up my profile and get started. It's very user-friendly and you determine how you will make the most out of the product, as you choose which "Happiness Track" to develop that set of happiness skills for specific life situations. You can switch between tracks if you get bored, and when you finish one you earn medals to show your progress in that happiness area. Members of the community are able to "Like" each other's posts and comment back and forth, creating a wonderful sense of community of like-minded individuals.

I admit, it's a bit of a challenge to stay immersed in another social media outlet, but it's one that I enjoy and feel as though I'm benefiting from the time investment I've been putting into it (about 5-10 minutes a day, a few times a week). By participating in the Happify community, I find that I'm stopping to notice the little moments of happiness in my life more often, I'm seeking out activities in my real life that boost my happiness, and I'm able to adjust my outlook on life daily in general in order to allow happiness to rise to the top more often.

I'm noticing that I'd rather spend time on Happify versus Facebook, and I like this trend.

Anywho, if you're interested in checking out Happify, they've provided me with a link so that my readers could sign up to try it out: www.happify.com.

Give it a try! I think you'll find that you're increasing your happiness with each click. Hope you love it as much as I do.

Disclaimer: I was not provided any products or gifts for writing this review. The opinions expressed are my own and have not been influenced in any way. 

Friend: Five Minute Friday {4}

What I love about my life is that I have many different types of friends surrounding me with love. Whenever life throws me a curve ball, or things are perfectly boring, or I just need to try something outside of my comfort zone to mix things up a bit because I've been feeling a little dull, I just reach out to a friend to reconnect and nourish my soul.

She makes me smile over coffee.

She lets me cry if I need a release.

She hugs me when we say goodbye.

I would be lost without my friends. They each hold a piece of my fragile heart in their hands and I hope they feel the same about me.

Because life is so much better with a friend to walk with.

Been busy living life

It's been a busy week of playdates with neighbor friends, school and a wonderfully positive parent-teacher conference which made me so happy, bubble baths in Mommy's big tub before bed, visits from Grandma and Aunt Hillary, and basically, just LIFE. The weather is getting warmer and we're looking forward to enjoying the end of spring and beginning of summer. I'm working on a long piece for a submission to an online anthology, so that's been taking up the bulk of my writing time once the kiddos are asleep. I just didn't want this week to go by without a post.

Life is good.

Decisions

It's so hard for me to go back to that time. But today I tried because I {ironically} decided to write a post on decisions.

It was early summer - July 2005, I think - and my parents were visiting for the weekend. Not-quite-newlyweds anymore, Ben and I were ready to take the leap from townhome to single-family house. So we toured a new construction neighborhood under development in the area we wanted to move to and were completely sucked in.

Looking back I can't believe how incredibly naive I was.

After touring the exquisite, professionally decorated, top-of-the-line-everything model, we picked out a lot, decided on a floor plan, and signed the contract. All within what felt like less than a week. It all happened so fast. The plan was to start the building process and sell our townhouse the following year before closing on the new home. We qualified for the mortgage easily on account of the salaries our jobs provided in addition to our impeccable credit scores.

When I try to remember what was going through my head at the time, I am dumbfounded. The thought of becoming a mother wasn't even on the periphery of  my vision of our future, other than the fact that this house had four bedrooms. And yet, I knew we wanted to start a family. So I imagine myself screaming at my young self: "Why aren't you thinking about your future, you idiot?! Why??? Don't let yourself get caught up in this idealistic vision of suburban life! You are still going to have to commute into the city - are you NUTS?"

I think about this choice we made early into our marriage often because I now drive past this neighborhood where we almost lived, four times a week. It's on the route to church and our son's preschool. The only answer I have is that I wasn't thinking about my future in that moment of excitement over buying a new house. I wasn't thinking about how someday I would want to have babies with my loving husband. How I envisioned taking long maternity leaves after the births of the two children I wanted to have so that I could ease into the adjustment period of becoming a mother. How maybe I’d even like to be a Stay-at-Home Mom until they were in school full-time. I wasn't thinking about the fact that this house would be a little out of reach for us financially when we started having kids. Our future life as parents just wasn't something playing in my mind at that moment of deciding to build a new home.

So, yeah. Turns out I was a little nuts. Figuratively and then, literally. Succumbing to the {mostly self-inflicted} intense pressure I was putting on myself at work to earn the money I knew we needed for that big, fancy house we were building, I suffered my first manic break five months after making that decision to build. A chemical imbalance in my brain was the other culprit.

It was the mental breakdown which opened my eyes to my true dream of my future: a happy, healthy family. Big house, small house, that wasn't all that important to me anymore. It wasn’t until then that I realized we had made a mistake by deciding to build a money-pit house in a Country Club community. It was too late. The house was under construction. The frame was going up, rooms were taking shape. The nails were being driven into the wood and with each blow of the hammer I crawled deeper into my pit of despair.

Why did I allow myself to make this bad decision? How could I be so stupid and ignorant?

What I didn’t realize back then is that life is one big mess of choices. I know this now. Decisions we make today will impact our future, whether we like it or not. My dad always tried to instill this into my brother and I as we were growing up, but for me, it wasn’t until many years later would I begin to understand what he was so fervently working to teach us.

Today, I marvel at a decision that almost was for us. After coming out of the hospital and focusing on my health, we were able to manage to withdraw from the building contract and only lost our deposit. It was only money. My well-being was far more important to us than the biggest check we had ever written. We ended up staying in our townhouse a little longer and when the time was right we found our 'forever house', as my friend likes to call it, in the same town as that home we were building. I can now look upon the house-decision experience as an invaluable life lesson in learning to really slow down and take my time with big, important choices in life. And the little ones too, for that matter.

Because you never know how a decision may impact your life. That’s the beauty in the choices we make each and every day.

Happy Friday, my friends. Thank you for making the decision to read my blog. I really appreciate you.

No regrets

Last week was pretty surreal. The outpouring of support from my friends and family surrounded me by way of emails, phone calls, text messages and blog comments. From 8:30am until 10pm. All the conversations about my decision to go public with my illness made my heart swell with gratitude. So much gratitude.

But there were two people who were quietly sitting back at home, taking it all in. Without saying a word.

Glued to my computer, watching the discussions take place in real time before my eyes, I longed for their approval in some shape or form. I waited for their number and picture to show up on my phone. The hours flew by and all of a sudden I looked at the clock and realized the day was over. The call never came.

Sometimes when someone is silent, their message comes across loud and clear.

I knew that my choice of words describing their reaction to my diagnosis might have hurt them. But that wasn't at all my intention. I only wanted to take my readers back to those moments when the shock of it all was still so raw for my family and I. After months of not seeing the light, the daze lifted to expose sheer exhaustion. We were all so worn out from the intense stress of trying to figure out what the hell was going on with me. So tired and drained - both physically and mentally - between the three of us we had cried so many tears that our eyes had nothing left to release, though we probably kept dabbing at them with wet tissues.

My mom and dad have a depth to their faith that I have yet to find. I admire that in them. I hope to some day reach that level of connection to God. They both prayed so hard during that year when we didn't know what else to do or where else to go to help me get well. The days crept by so slowly. Tears fell continuously. They had already spent most of their time researching doctors, medications, treatments, alternative medicine, research studies. Anything that could potentially bring me back from the dark hole I had dropped into. Anything that could fix me. A miracle seemed so out of reach and yet they kept on reaching, kept on praying. Praying and reaching for me because I had lost my will to reach myself.

Whether they know it or not, every night I thank God that they had the strength to keep on praying because their prayers were answered.

I probably could have used a better word than "mortified" when I described my perceptions of how they felt about my mental illness diagnosis. That wasn't fair. Fear and bewilderment probably would have been much better representations of their emotional state back then. They've wanted me to hold onto my anonymity because they worry about me the same way any parent worries about their child. I am an adult and I could have made the decision to blog openly about my illness a long time ago and I decided not to. But that changed recently. I've finally reached a point in my life where I don't want to look back and have any regrets. I don't want to wish I had done it earlier. I wasn't able to do it before now. I wasn't ready.

The fact is, parents will worry about their kids no matter what decisions they choose to make in life. That's just the nature of being a parent. So whether I made the choice to go public and become an advocate as I did this week, or I remained anonymous in my attempt to inspire other people living with bipolar disorder through my writing, my parents would have kept on worrying about me, either way. It's part of the job description when you're hired on as a parent: perpetual worry. Just comes with the territory.

I've only been a parent for less than five years, but with many more years ahead of me, I can only imagine how much harder it gets. Thank you, Mom and Dad. Thank you for loving me unconditionally they way you both always have. Thank you for supporting me and for encouraging me to keep writing. And thank you for being there to listen. Even if you may not completely agree with my decision to take this leap.

I love you both so much.

Wedded Bliss

{image by Stacey Windsor Photography}

This August, my husband and I will have been married for 10 years. Ten years of wedded bliss. Well, if you consider the roller coaster ride of being married to someone who struggles with bipolar disorder to be blissful, then yeah, I guess you could call it that. For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

There obviously was no way he could have known. My illness conveniently broke through the surface after we had only been married for two years and four months. It threatened to tear us apart. But, instead of letting it knock down the little life we were building together, we used it as an opportunity to grow together. Stronger. Closer. Richer.

One day at a time.

On August 30th, 2013, those days will equal ten years. Best 10 years of my life.    By far.

My friend Stacey, a very talented photographer in the DC area, asked me recently if I'd be willing to get back into my wedding gown for some pictures so she could build her portfolio. I jumped at the opportunity, especially since this year is a big anniversary for us. We had planned on shooting down by the Cherry Blossoms in downtown DC, but the Cherry Blossom 10-miler was this past Sunday, the same day we had scheduled the pictures. We would have to find an alternative spot.

Hair and Makeup ladies arrived at my house at 4:30am on the dot, and within an hour I was transformed from sleepy mom to elegant bride, complete with airbrushed skin and side-swept cascading curls. I slipped on my dress and we headed downtown to find a spot where Stacey could snap away. We ended up taking a bunch of photos on Teddy Roosevelt Island which was such a perfect consolation location. Then we headed over towards Gravelley Point Park, but ended up stopping along the GW Parkway to shoot in a daffodil field and under some weeping willows. By that point we had met up with my husband, the kids, my sister-in-law and my in-laws. It was a frigid morning, but one I will never forgot. It was an incredible feeling to be a bride again for a morning.

My husband watching, smiling at me posing for pictures, was the icing on the anniversary cake.

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. That word is love.

- Sophocles

After: Five Minute Friday {3}

I frequently think of my life as either before or after. As in, before I got sick and after I was diagnosed. When I look at picture from my life taken around that time, I can always tell if the particular photo's event happened before or after by looking at how my eyes smile. I can't say that I like before or after better or worse than the other, because they are both just different times in my life. Struggles were different after. The importance of sleep was different after. Friendships stayed the same, for the most part, but some became even stronger after because they knew and still stood by me.

I am at the point right now where I can finally say that I like the person I've become after. 

Today my 3rd post for WhatToExpect.com's Word of Mom Blog went up!         Pop on over and check out why I sometimes dread sleeping.

Running with the Wind

Yesterday I reluctantly pulled on my running shoes, tied them up, and left my husband with the kids for a thirty minute jog. My mind was telling me to just skip it, given that the temperature had plummeted from seventy degrees earlier in the day to forty-five at 7pm when I finally made it out the front door. But it felt good to be moving after all the sugar and heavy food from Easter Sunday.

My phone provided music while I trotted along, my legs still sore from my first jog of the spring two days before. Now that the weather is changing I just want to be outside again. Too much time passed without us being able to go out due to snow, rain, or plain frigid temperatures. The air smells different when spring emerges. Trees and flowers perfume the breeze, along with the fresh mulch that neighbors spread to make everything look fresh. My favorite is the scent of hyacinth at this time of year. I slowed my pace when I ran past a house seemingly anchored in them, taking in the heady fragrance.

The wind was fierce, slapping my face with its icy coldness. But the extra oxygen I sucked in from the air flowing at me propelled me forward and it was as if I ran faster. My bad knee held out thanks to the patella strap I had pulled tight around my knee cap. The rest of my body got a thrill from being on my old route. I didn't do the whole loop, but it was enough to remind me of last year's jogging nights. Made me long for the strength I felt back then when I was running almost every day. I'll get there. One step at a time.

Yesterday my second post for WhatToExpect.com's Word of Mom Blog went live. Please head over and check it out if you have time! :)