A Vanilla Moment

Hello again, it's been a long time since my last blog, almost as long as the last time I tweeted. I feel that I owe many people both an apology and an explanation for my absence. So, I hope you will all bare with me. A bit of a warning though, this blog is completely vanilla and may be a tad boring for some.
Like most people, my family is struggling financially. We have gone past the, "bummer we can't go out to the movies" phase and jumped right into the "how are we going to pay for food" phase. As with a lot of folks out there we have already faced the shame of car repossession and possible eviction (which is almost comical because the house we are renting is about to go into foreclosure because the owner isn't paying his bills). Right now I'm just thankful for ramen noodles and mac & cheese. Now, this is not the reason I for my withdrawal, because I know my friends would understand my family's position, I'm pointing it out because it is intensifying my true problem. A problem, I must admit, that has caused me an immense amount of shame and self loathing.
Over four months ago I was diagnosed with Post Partum Depression. After five children in three pregnancies, it finally reared it's ugly head, and let me tell you it is ugly. I have not faced something so personally horrible in my life. Before explaining the disorder, let me touch on my original beliefs about it, and most types of depression. Kind of like Carpal Tunnel, I believed it was nothing more than hypochondria. A lonely person striving for attention. In PPD's case, a lonely person the world was willing to excuse bad behavior for and simply another cause to throw medication down a person's throat. Easy to be that ignorant until you have it. Add to that I grew up in a household that believed things like depression were just "bad days" and you needed to just "suck it up, soldier". Taking anti-depressants were a sign of a weak and pathetic person. I couldn't possibly be like that, right? Wrong.
Two months after my daughter was born the Baby Blues day came. Like before, I was ready. I withdrew for the day and let myself cry for no apparent reason and down a pint of ridiculously chocolaty ice cream. Unfortunately, it didn't end there like it had previously. The next day was the same. And the next, and the next. Then things started to change. I wasn't just sad for no reason. I stopped just crying. I started doing something worse. Something so horrible that it began my withdrawal from everyone around me. I started getting angry. Not your run of the mill, flip off the mental midget that cut you off in mid day traffic angry. I'm talking about the first kindlings of rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. A fury so overwhelming it became impossible to control. I began, to my own horror, lashing out. It started with simple things like snapping my husband's head off for putting the spoon on the wrong side of the plate. Then it turned into throwing plates or whatever was in reach. A red haze starts and I wouldn't know what was going on until it was over. Then the horror of the things I had said and done sunk in. I cannot describe the crushing feeling of self hatred at that moment. I can say now in all honesty, if it were not for my children I probably would have killed myself from pure guilt. I realized quickly, my own husband was becoming frightened of me. God, it was horrid. It was like some twisted Alien movie. There was a monster inside me and when it came out it destroyed everyone around me. For several weeks, my husband was the only one who faced my wrath. But then the unthinkable happened. Even now, I cry while I write this thinking about it.
I actually yelled at my babies. I didn't hurt anyone physically, thank God, but I yelled at them. I may scold my children when necessary but I do NOT yell at them. They were so shocked from it that they started crying. I've never in my life hated myself so much. What kind of mother yells at their own babies? I really wanted my life to end at that moment. I contemplated it because I really believed at that moment that my family would be better off without me. I was the bane of their existence and I would ruin their lives if I stayed. But, there was thankfully enough clarity left in me to understand killing myself would damage them far more and that even though I didn't understand what was wrong with me I knew something was. I called my doctor immediately.
Everyday now, I thank God that I did. It was humiliating to break down in my doctor's office and admit that I was not a perfect wife or mother. The ideal image I had so painstakingly created was a lie. I was struggling. There was something wrong and I needed help. It was hard to face the shame I felt in telling another person that I was becoming infuriated for no reason, that I was letting my once clean house turn into a pig sty, that I was no longer interested in any sexual contact. It was a horrible conversation but it was necessary. It was the first step towards recovery. Getting through PPD is a very long process. Sadly, if doesn't go away over night and even now I constantly struggle with it. As ignorant as it sounds, I still feel tremendous shame in admitting my problem. I don't want people to think I'm weak. I don't want everyone to think I am a horrible wife and mother. I don't want my friends to hate me. It is part of the reason I began to withdraw. For most people that are friends with me, I am suppose to be the strong one. I'm the one people come to for advice or to listen to their problems, but I was finding myself incapable of being that. I felt as though I was failing them so I ran away. I couldn't be the chipper and silly person I normally am, so I talked myself into believing they would be better off without me for awhile. I bet you can see a similar theme there.
At any rate, this long winded blog was my attempt to face the truth about what it is that is going on with me. Perhaps it is an explanation, an apology and a request for patience all wrapped up into one rambling mass of words. I cannot promise I will be around everyday. I cannot promise I am always going to be my upbeat self. I will promise everyone that I will not run anymore. I will face this. I will rise above this. Someday, I will be stronger because of all this. Thank you, once again for reading this and for your support.