Monday You Can Fall Apart

I have survived 13 orthopedic surgeries before I turned 18. Moving 2,000 miles from home with no support system to college. Getting hit by a bus as a pedestrian my senior year. Moving to NYC with no job or place to live after graduation. Moving back home the following year. Moving to LA. Even when the person I loved left me in LA by myself to move back into his parents house after living off of my student loan for 4months. The death of my beloved childhood pet that spring. Emergency surgery to remove a tumor from my uterus. A post-op infection. Moving back home (which I swore I'd never do). Being laid off. Getting pregnant. Almost 7mo of bed rest. A c-section and a baby in the NICU. A spinal fusion surgery. A hip surgery. Being unemployed for 2yrs because of all the medical issues.

I have made it through all of these things intact. I don't mean I never got sad or even suffered some depression on the contrary it was a recurring theme. I would face something tough, battle through it, get sad, get over it and repeat. That's how it always worked. That as far as I'm concerned is how life's supposed to work.

I had these reasonable and brief bouts of depression starting in adolescence. I never talked about it. I honestly can't believe I'm talking about it now. I didn't need anyone to know I was sad because I didn't need any help to stop being sad. It was something that had to run its course like a cold.

Pain and depression feed off of one another. The more it hurts the sadder you are and the sadder you are the more it hurts. Add to that pure primal fear and you have my current state of existence. I remember when I was single and had 3 jobs and I never had days off. After 28 consecutive days of working 8-12hrs I got horribly sick. Not just the sniffles because I would have pounded Emergen-C and water and kept going, but really sick. I think I was sent home from work after almost passing out. Anyway, the point is that I thought, “well I guess that's the number of days you can work without a break before your immune system objects loudly”. That's exactly what happened this time.

I endured all these things and kept going with very little break and then my brain broke instead of my immune system. At first just like the overworked immune system I thought I was fine and got “sent home from work”. After that I had to face up to actually being “sick”, but was completely convinced it would resolve itself quickly. Wrong on both counts.

I had a very difficult time with idea of the C-section because I'd had enough surgery to last a lifetime, but I consoled myself by thinking it would be the last. Wrong. I felt terrible having to back to the Orthopedic after Riley was born, but something had to be done. Apparently that something was major surgery. I pulled through having metal rods put in my back, breastfeeding the whole time, and moved on. Of course moving on meant hip surgery to remove old hardware and maybe replace my hip. I really couldn't have been more wrong about the whole "last surgery" thing. I survived with my own hip and a hope to make it "at least until the end of the year" before my hip would be replaced. Wrong again.

Are you noticing a pattern here? Apparently, that realization was my "28th consecutive day." The dam broke and I was drowning. It's not a simple problem. I can not simply "get through it" this time. If I go to the doctor tomorrow and he confirms what I know is true the amount of procedures and recovery required is daunting. Beyond that it's not fixing a flat tire. There's no guarantee more surgery with "fix" things and even if things improve there's no way to know how long they'll be that way. After all the hardware removal that was supposed to buy me a year with my own hip didn't quite make it to 6mo.

I've had a "breakdown" here and there. I've been mired down by hopelessness, but never like this. I blamed hormones. I blamed fatigue. I blamed the pain. I blamed Mike. In the end those things all played their part, but as my Ortho is always quick to point out it doesn't matter what's causing it once the problem is solved. So how do I solve it?

Step one: Admit you have a problem. Ok, done. Now what? I overcame the feeling that everyone will judge me harshly and that they're right to do so because being depressed enough to need help means I'm a huge failure. I'm not a wimp who couldn't hack it. I buckled under tremendous strain it's not the same as giving up. I worked through the fear of someone accusing me of being an unfit parent. Obviously my kids are well taken care of. If anything they save me from wallowing too much during daylight hours. I'm just worried about what happens now. Generally I'm good at taking personal responsibility, but terrible at failure (which is what severe depression feels like to me).

I decided after several attempts to cheer myself up that ended in teary disasters to call my doctor about this. However, my schedule is overwhelmed with scary medical issues so after the first two are in hand I've promised myself and Mike I would call.

Here's hoping writing about it helps me (and someone out there reading it) feel less alone. Deep breath. Sometimes you can't kick a virus without antibiotics. Sometimes you can't kick depression without a professional. Makes sense.

Show your support for me and moms everywhere struggling with depression by commenting on this post anonymously. Depression is a lonely place. Thank you so much.