New Year, Old Depression

I’m not a big crier. I don’t cry during movies or weddings. I didn’t cry when either of my boys were born. I cry when people I care about die, and I cry when I’m in a deep, overwhelming episode of depression.

The day after Christmas was such an occasion. It had been building up, as it often does for me in December, and I grew more anxious as the holiday neared. It was an odd-numbered year, which meant Jack would be with his dad for the holiday; usually I have no trouble with this arrangement, but this year was different for some unidentifiable reason. I felt desperate to keep my family close to me this year. I wanted so badly to have a real Christmas dinner with loads of my loved ones around, but had no ability to make it happen.

We celebrated Christmas with Jack and Dez on the morning of the 23rd before Jack headed to his dad’s. We made plans to brunch with friends on Christmas day, and that was lovely, but my mood continued to sink.

The day after Christmas, I lost my composure completely. I struggled to get out of bed and by late morning I was a teary mess with a giant weight on my chest. I decided it was prudent to head to the psychiatric clinic at Kaiser.

I knew it could take a while, so David stayed home with Dez and I drove to Oakland. I checked in, filled out an intake form, and then sat down to wait. Or rather, I felt so despondent and terrible at that point that I laid down on the waiting room couch and cried steadily while I waited.

At some point a therapist came out to let me know that I could be waiting there another two hours. Then he looked at my intake paperwork and said he’d see what he could do. Not long after that, another therapist pulled me in to her office to ask me some questions and assess my mental state. I told her about my medication struggles and after I listed off the 5 antidepressants I’ve tried in my life, she replied, “So pretty much all of them.” (Uh, no…) I told her I was thinking I needed a new psychiatrist due to the fact that my psychiatrist didn’t seem to understand my issues (every appointment involves him listing off medications I can try without any recommendation as to a course of action), but I was told that Kaiser has a process for changing psychiatrists and given a phone number to handle that later. She then sent me back to the waiting room until a psychiatrist could meet with me.

There was some confusion about the availability of a psychiatrist and at one point I was told to leave and come back in 2 hours. As I was walking to my car, the therapist came to find me and tell me she was going to try to do one more thing, so I should come back and wait some more. I sat down and cried some more until she came out to tell me that she’d squeezed me in to see my regular psychiatrist.

This wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but I was desperate, so I took the appointment. It went much as all of my appointments with him have; I ended up leaving with the same medication prescription, but at an increased dosage, and a new prescription for ADHD-related issues.

Which brings me to today. The increased medication dosage helped somewhat; I am able to get out of bed and I’m not crying randomly. But things are still not great—I’m struggling with a short fuse, nightmares, and feeling antisocial. And the ADHD medication only served to make me jittery and tense, so I’m feeling rather overwhelmed.

I still need to go through whatever process Kaiser has in place to change psychiatrists, too. I keep forgetting, but with good reason: my back decided to start going into spasms on New Years day, then David went out of town for work for 5 days, and then Jack had his own mental health crisis!

I have all the fun.

So that is what the new year has been like for me. I sure hope it gets better.

Drowning in December: A Depression Story

December feels like drowning. The chill in the air sucks at me, the gloom from a hidden sun suffocates me, and the weight of a million responsibilities pulls me down. I am sinking beneath it all.

I have been fighting this relapse of depression, anxiety, and PTSD symptoms for about a year as of this month. I’ve gotten to a functional place; I can work and take care of my kids reasonably well. Almost reasonably well. These are the things I’ve prioritized over everything else in my life out of necessity.

I look around at my house and see clutter; we are STILL cleaning up from Thanksgiving, in fact. I look at my backyard with the broken fence and my patio dotted with random pieces of rotting furniture. It’s all a reminder that I’m not keeping up with the day-to-day and it’s been building up and is even less manageable than it used to be. It’s a visual representation of the garbage in my brain that I can’t seem to clear out.

In the middle of my own struggles, Jack has mental health challenges, as well. The fallout from cancer is seemingly neverending. His last successful blood draw was over 6 months ago; he is long overdue. We have (and by that I really mean David has) made four attempts in the last month to get the draw at the lab, but Jack’s fear and panic have won out each time. He has had anxiety and depression, too. And so we are heading back to therapy this week, and adding a psychiatrist to the mix.

He’s 11. This is too much for an 11-year-old. Hell, I’m almost 37 and it’s too much for me.

As for me, there is nothing to be done but to keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep trying whatever medication cocktail my psychiatrist suggests, and keep focusing on the fact that I’m still IN IT but that I will float back to the top eventually.

Try not to sink. Try to swim. The surface is there; you just have to the find it.

Searching for the Perfect Antidepressant

Searching for the perfect antidepressant can be such a difficult process. Prozac was my companion for a good 8 years. During that time, I was always aware of and worried about the arrival of the day when I would have to switch. Prozac was never 100% effective (it didn’t do much for my anxiety), but it worked well enough that I was able to manage mild depression and anxiety on my own with self-care while I was on it.

Almost two years ago (November 2015), I started noticing some issues popping up. I wrote a note on my phone to make sure I kept track in case I needed to go back to my psychiatrist. My notes read:

  • Scatterbrained, difficulty focusing in conversations
  • Disproportional anger
  • Increased headaches/migraines, back & neck pain
  • Stress dreams almost every night
  • Decreased interest in doing things I normally enjoy

sleeping woman in bed

It then took me a year of feeling this way before I finally did anything about it. The big reason for my delay was fear. I knew Prozac wasn’t the best medication for me, but it felt good enough when I thought of what I would need to go through to find a new medication. Changing antidepressants is, frankly, horrible. The mood swings are intense, and the withdrawals can be debilitating.

But my mental health problems started impacting my relationships and my work. Good enough was no longer cutting it.

I reached out to my friend Chelley and asked her to do me a favor. I asked her to bug the heck out of me until I made an appointment. And she did that for me, sending me a few messages over the course of a week or two, and then I finally went in to see my (new) psychiatrist in November.

To my surprise, my psychiatrist suggested I stick with Prozac. He gave me something called Seroquel to help with anxiety on an as-needed basis. Unfortunately, it put me to sleep when I took even a quarter of a pill. That was not going to help me in the middle of a work day!

It took me until March to go back and see the psychiatrist again. He then suggested I try Wellbutrin with the Prozac. So I started with a low dose of Wellbutrin a couple of days later. At first, I felt pretty good and could deal with the mild side effects (thinking they would dissipate). I was able to concentrate better at work and I wasn’t dreading every single task at home. I was optimistic that this medication would work out.

BUT–of course there is a but–a few days in I started feeling physically unwell after increasing the dose to what was supposed to be a therapeutic level. I got a headache on the right side of my head and around my eye and it wouldn’t respond to pain reliever. Around 3pm each day I started getting nauseated and exhaustion would hit. I thought I was just adjusting to a new medication, but about a week in, I ended up in bed, completely laid out with nausea, headache, exhaustion, sweating and shivering. Plus, it felt like my brain was literally burning.

It was Serotonin Syndrome.

So I went back to the psychiatrist again and we decided to stop the Prozac and Wellbutrin and try something else. Thus began the withdrawal journey!

I won’t bore you with those details, but it wasn’t pleasant. I got off the Prozac and transitioned onto Lexapro in mid-April. I started off small (my psychiatrist is cautious after the burning brain incident), and then increased the dosage when it didn’t seem to be working all that well.

Three and a half months later, it’s still not working well. Sometimes I’m okay and feel like myself, and sometimes I am bawling for no reason or hiding in my bedroom with paralyzing anxiety. My hair is also falling out. (Note: My psychiatrist says, “Hair loss is not a common side effect from Lexapro, so I’m not sure what’s causing this.” My internet search suggests differently, but whatevs. I’ll see if it goes away after I stop the Lexapro.)

I feel bad for those around me. I snap at or start arguments with my husband. I am spacey with my kids. I make stupid mistakes at work. I complain almost constantly on Twitter. And I feel horrible about all of it.

I have an appointment this week to go back in to see my psychiatrist and hear what he suggests trying next. I just want to feel okay again. Why is it so hard?

Helpful Books for Anxious Kids

Coming out on the other side of a life-threatening medical diagnosis and the ensuing treatment takes a lot of ingenuity and resources. We’ve run the gamete looking for ways to help Jack deal with anxiety and depression during and after his bout with cancer, including various types of therapy and a whole lot of books.

While there is no substitute for a good therapist (particularly if you are a worried parent who is also trying to deal), books are enormously helpful on a day-to-day basis. For the other parents out there dealing with anxious kids, I thought I would share some of the books that our family found helpful. Please note that the below photos contain Amazon affiliate links.

Story Books for Kids with Medical Challenges

Little Tree

Age Range: 4-8

Franklin Goes to the Hospital

Age Range: 3-8


Story Books to Help Children Deal with Emotions

Is a Worry Worrying You?

Age Range: 4-8

When I Feel… Series

Age Range: 4-8


Workbooks for Kids with Anxiety or Medical Challenges

My Feeling Better Workbook

Age Range: 6-12

What To Do When You Worry Too Much

Age Range: 7-12

Digging Deep Journal

Age Range: 12+ (Artistic kids and mature kids as young as 8-9 could do great with this, in my opinion)

Do you have recommendations to add? I would love to hear about more, particularly any books specifically for tweens and teens!


These books are helpful for anxious kids between the ages of 4-12 who are dealing with big emotions and medical-related anxiety.

Not Your Average Mother

I have a complicated relationship with my mother. I know that is not unusual in the least, but my mom takes quirky to a new level, and I learned so much from her. She is not your average mother, and thus, neither am I.

This Mother’s Day, I thought I would share some of what my mom taught me, whether directly or through her actions. Some of what I learned from my mom is pretty badass (in my opinion), but there are also unexpected twists…

mom and daughter

My mother and me, circa 1998.

If someone tries to abduct you, even at gunpoint, scream. It’s better to be killed on the spot than to go through what they have planned. And you don’t want to have to live with the memories of what they will do to you.

Be assertive. Something is wrong with your order? Talk to the manager. If someone is sitting in the booth you want? Ask them to move.

Learn to type. If you can type, you can get a job. And having a job is very, very important so that you never have to rely on anyone.

Don’t trust anyone with your money. Your husband might very well drain the bank account and charge up the credit cards buying a fur coat (in Sacramento!) for his mistress. It’s best to have separate bank accounts. And make sure your paycheck can cover the bills entirely because your boyfriend may up and go to prison.

Keep calm and carry on. If you find out your boyfriend has committed atrocious crimes, stay calm and don’t let him know you’re onto him. Instead go immediately to the courthouse to get a restraining order and have your 6’4″ brother deliver it. Don’t tell said boyfriend why he is being kicked out. Later, work with police to get his confession to the crime recorded over the phone.

Okay, you can break down but only in the shower when you think your kids can’t hear you.

Plan ahead. Get your will and life insurance and safety deposit boxes in order, and then tell your kids all about it, even if they are preteens. “I added you to my bank account. If I die, you need to go withdraw all the money right away because otherwise it can get caught up in legal proceedings and it will take forever to get the money and it might even disappear.”

Pay attention to your maternal instincts! When your spidey sense starts telling you something isn’t right with your kids, listen. You might just show up in the middle of your kids getting a lesson about their dad’s drug use.

I think about these lessons from time to time and the depth of experience that comes with them. My mom has survived so much in her life and I can honestly say I look up to her a lot. At the same time, I hope to never have to share most of these lessons with my own kids.

With that said, I have my own history and quirks. Time will tell what kind of lessons my children will glean from me.

What about you? What life lessons have you learned from your mother that she may not have intended to teach you?