Absenteeism

I haven't felt like blogging in a long time.  Or I would think about things to write and just never get around to it.  They're always the same excuses with me, I tell ya.  There gets to be a point when so much has happened that I could never remember it all to tell you.  And well, I'm sure it's not all interesting enough to relay anyway. 
I think the biggest reason I stopped blogging for so long is that my depression took a sharp turn for the worse after I returned from my visit to Georgia.  I went off my prozac while I was visiting to see how I'd do.  I did well because I was on vacation.  Yeah, that figures.  When I came back and the reality of daily life set back in, I went back on it.  And as inadequate as the drug was before, it was completely ineffectual when I started it again.  My mood quickly rolled downhill.  I am still amazed at how awful and horrible I felt after such a short period of time.  My thoughts flew uncontrolled into dark areas of melancholy and languished there unchecked.  I knew if I didn't find a way to stop it, the rational part of my brain would eventually shut down and surrender itself.  I have too much to lose. 
I do see a therapist, but the medical doctor treating me was my Ob/Gyn.  I had to wait three weeks to see her to talk about changing my medication.  Those three weeks were agonizing, but I clung to my hope that when that time came, I would be offered some sort of respite.  She told me my symptoms were beyond her scope, and I really needed to see a psychiatrist.  I can't really fault her for that, and I appreciated honesty.  However, the wait for a psychiatrist was another two and a half to three weeks.  I couldn't wait that long. 
In my desperation for help, I checked myself into the hospital.  I was scared.  I've had depression for most of my life, but I've never been in a psychiatric ward.  I had images in my head that there would be psychotic, schizophrenic, involuntarily jerking people who foamed at the mouth surrounding me as we all settled down for the night in padded cells.  And thinking of that now makes me laugh, heartily.  There are probably places that are like that.  But not the place I went to.  It was a short term facility designed for people like me that need emergency mental health care and can stay for 3 days to 2 weeks while they get back on their feet again.
Because I felt ashamed of my inability to hold it all together, I somehow thought that would translate into how I was treated there- as though I had done something wrong.  I was, of course, treated only with respect and kindness by all the staff and most of the other patients there, too.  A nurse even went out and bought heads of cabbage, so I could use the leaves as compresses on my sorely engorged boobs (OMG, they were hurting so bad!).  I really pushed myself to go to all the groups that were offered and to try to make a plan of how to change things when I got home.  I actually enjoyed my time at the hospital, but I needed to get home.  I didn't see Ben the whole time I was there, and it killed me!  I was put on a different medication, and I was able to go home after a three day stay. 
I'm glad that I went.  I'm still waiting for the full effect of my new medication, but it seems to be kicking in a little after a week now.  Everything is still hard.  I have to make myself do things, so I don't fall back into the old routine that made my depression worse.  They're silly things like getting out of bed, eating, putting on clothes.  Simple things, I know, but not so easy when you're at your lowest point. 
I'm so lucky, though.  These things are easier when you have a loving, supportive family.  Chris was with me through the admission into the hospital, and he came to see me every day I was there.  He took time to talk to me every time I called him.  He took great care of Ben that first night I was gone.  My mother in law took him for the next few days.  I was so grateful that she did that for us.  She has been over to my house several times since then, just helping me to adjust and to get things done around the house.  My sisters in law have helped, too.  Like I said, I'm lucky. 
There's much more to say.  Hopefully, I'll have a bit of time to post some more soon.