So, it’s Saturday afternoon, right? And you’re probably thinking you should take a nap, right? (Right. Always nap. Do not question me on this one.)
Well, don’t nap until you’ve read the latest post in the Rally.
This afternoon, one of my friends to the north (i.e. Canada), Robin from Farewell, Stranger, is talking about labels and mental health and how people avoid talking about mental health because they want to avoid being labeled.
Robin is a sweet, sweet soul and she’s going through a difficult time right now in regards to her recovery from PPD/A. Send her your good thoughts and encouragement.
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Labels are hard. Especially when they relate to mental health.
I’ve always been kind of afraid of “mental health” issues. Even after I realized I was dealing with one.
After my son was born I had postpartum depression but I didn’t know it. When a counsellor suggested that’s what I was dealing with, I didn’t just shrug it off – I actually told her I wasn’t interested in discussing it. I didn’t want the label.
Eventually, quite by coincidence, I came across a reference to postpartum depression in a book I was reading. It mentioned anger and a tendency toward outbursts that were all too familiar. So PPD isn’t just “depression”? I sure wish someone had told me that before.
After that, I started to accept the label. PPD. Okay, I could handle that. It was clearly linked to having had a baby.
But my son is now almost three, so is it still PPD? There are lots of theories on that, and generally I still choose to refer to myself as having PPD, though I’m now starting to accept that I also had issues with depression much earlier in my life (including antenatal depression, which I now remember Googling, thinking, “huh,” and then deciding to ignore entirely). Delving further, I realized I’m no stranger to anxiety either, and after that it just became a can of worms. The way I see it, I may as well fish with those worms. Bound to find something at the bottom of this pond that will help.
I’m now regularly seeing my GP, a therapist and a psychiatrist. I’m taking medication and, for right now, I’m actually on a leave from work. All this for someone who originally didn’t even want to talk about a little three-letter acronym yet spent an hour a week crying in a counsellor’s office when my child was eight months old.
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My road to dealing with my mental health issues has been long, and it’s because I wasn’t willing to accept the labels. The stigma.
So much of this road I’m travelling is because I didn’t know enough about it. And neither did my family or my friends or even my family doctor.
I didn’t know that rage was a symptom of depression.
I didn’t know that postpartum depression could start when your baby is a few months old.
I didn’t know that some of what I was experiencing – and that was preventing me from dealing with the other stuff – was anxiety.
I thought medication was scary. I didn’t know how helpful it could be (even if it doesn’t solve all the problems).
I thought asking for help was an admission of weakness. I didn’t know it’s actually a sign of strength.
I thought telling people would make them think less of me. I didn’t know it would make them think I was brave.
I wish I’d known all of this before. If I had, maybe my road to recovery would have been a little less long. But if I had, maybe I wouldn’t have learned as much, and met others with similar issues, and been willing to talk about it. Because it turns out those labels aren’t so scary after all, and there are lots of people willing to hold your hand and walk that road with you.
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Robin has a gift for words, y’all. A real, honest, straight-out-of-the-box gift. She explains the title of her blog in the post On Motherhood and Losing Yourself. Go read it. It’s so true. She hosts a weekly blog link-up called Fledgling Fridays designed to give exposure to those new to the blogging world.
Robin is a fellow Boy Mom to son, Connor, 3. You can find her on Twitter and Facebook.
There you go again, Robin, brilliantly, both sharp as a tack and still sensitive and tender. All pregnant mamas could benefit from reading this. Bookmarked.
Much love.
Isn’t she just lovely with the words??
Robin…
you describe it perfectly.
The fear of being seen as weak.
Not wanting to talk about it.
Not aware.
What resonates with me the most is that medication does not take it all away. I still deal with anxiety on a small level daily. I still have to remind myself that I am strong, I can do this, I have support.
The above is true for you too.
She does describe it perfectly. 🙂
Thank, my sis. You’re right, and I’m starting to see that.
Also, I think your voodoo threat worked. Comments galore!
xoxo
Thanks, beauties. It seemed so simple, but this is what I wanted to share with whoever might be reading these posts.
Can I “like” my own post? Well I did. So there.
Thanks for having me, M 🙂
I think that sometimes the best advice IS the simple advice.
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for being so open about it. The more people hear about it, the less stigma there is. Twitter is great for that, I think! I’m dealing with the rage part of PPD right now and know, from previous experience, what to watch for so I can get help if it gets out of control. You are a brave woman and I wish you the best.
You’re exactly right! If we want to get rid of the stigma surrounding mental health issues, we’ve GOT to talk about it.
That’s the point, you’re so right. If I had known this before I’d have had help sooner. Glad you’re informed and on the lookout. Sending you good wishes.
Labels are so hard. I think depression makes a person so much more compassionate and empathetic. It’s so hard losing control of yourself.
Love and answers to you. The answers you need my friend.
Labels are hard. But you know? Mine’s not something I’m going to be ashamed of.
I remember one time saying to someone that I’d met at a party that I had PPD and she said “Oh man! Me too! It totally sucks.” and then? It was okay to say it, you know? I’ve got to think that in being open about it she breathed a little easier that afternoon.
Grace, that’s totally true. Now that I understand more about myself, I’m so much more open and understanding of other people. I’ve been meaning to write a post about it. Will have to do that.
Thanks for commenting 🙂
You are so strong and beautiful! Your words are empowering. I was able to accept my PPD/A/OCD labels so much easier than the ones that have followed since. Truly inspiring. Thank you for being so open and honest sharing you with us. Much love
Some labels are easier to accept than others, but none are deserving of shame. Thanks for being here with us during this rally.
Thanks so much, Nicole. I didn’t accept those labels at first, so I’m glad that was okay for you. I have a feeling there may be others in my future and I’m trying to be open to that too. Whatever your labels are, it’s okay. No matter what it is, you’re not alone – there are always others struggling too and willing to share. Much love back to you.
Robin, you never fail to evoke a response from me when I read your beautiful writing. Today as I read this, I want to stand up and applaud you for bravely accepting the ‘labels’ and openly talking about your struggles. Women who are going through the same thing but do not have the recourse to express themselves, will hopefully read this and your blog, and not feel alone.
Miranda, kudos to you for hosting this rally.
Alison, you are consistently awesome. I can say the same thing over and over and you never fail to come by and offer words of support. Thank you 🙂
I had my “first” PPD (I thought) after #2 was born. I knew I had it, but had read/heard that others should be able to see it and I should be in denial, so I took a while to truly acknowledge it. And then I had people tell me it was not really PPD because it was months later (it had been there all along, I just hadn’t told them until something triggered a need). Ironically, this was all after an antenatal midwife had told me about self-care – and I had laughed it off (some of the conversations with her still haunt me). With a toddler AND a newborn??? Ha!! But she was right. Even more ironic, the first professional person to pick up on it was a GP who barely knew me.
What I hadn’t realised until this time was that I had had it after #1 too – just my “normal” OCD amplified. This time (#3) it’s been even worse, compounded by flashbacks of the previous PPD and the guilt I still feel for having missed so much. And you know how I have struggled with my own label again this time.
Sorry I’ve made it “all about me” – just trying to acknowledge your experience and note the insidious nature of this thing, how it creeps up on all of us differently, even if we think we know what we’re looking for. Whether we call it PPD, or our exacerbated “normal”, every single one is valid, and the more of us that speak up, the easier it will be for those that follow us to get help.
Thank you for being one of the brave, honest women speaking up. You will get through this.
Heck, make it all about you! This is why we need to talk about it.
Yeah, I know. It’s just that partway through writing it, I thought I should put most of it on my own blog, not hijack your beautiful post with it! That was my condensed version too. But I really wanted to let you know how much I appreciated your sharing.
“I thought asking for help was an admission of weakness. I didn’t know it’s actually a sign of strength.” …. how true. I’ve struggled with the exact same problem. Not opening up about my PPD, thinking it was weakness. But sometimes asking for help is the strongest thing you can do.
Thank you for sharing your words. It’s empowering to see other women experiencing these same difficulties. We’re all going to make it through! 🙂
What a beautiful post. I’ve always been afraid of labels too – and I think that’s where I am now. Trying to find one that fits, and hoping it gives me the strength to do what I need to do to feel better.
2 and a half years later, I was diagnosed as bipolar 2. Not saying that this is the road you’ll travel too. No one knows the duration. It varied for every one. Just keep on fighting. We are all here for you sweet momma. Xoxo
That was so, so beautifully written!