Happy Mother’s Day!

It’s an extra special Mother’s Day for me this year because I’m part of something very meaningful to me and many others–the fifth annual Mother’s Day Rally for Moms’ Mental Health, hosted by Postpartum Progress–the world’s most widely read blog on postpartum depression (PPD) and all other mental illnesses related to pregnancy and childbirth.

The Rally is a 24-hour event that features 24 letters (one posted each hour) from survivors of PPD, postpartum anxiety (PPA), postpartum OCD, depression after weaning and/or postpartum psychosis. Their purpose is to inform and encourage pregnant and new moms who may be struggling with their emotional health. In Katherine Stone’s (of Postpartum Progress) words, the rally is a “massive dose of love, understanding and wisdom from lots of moms who’ve had postpartum depression and anxiety and the like.”

You’ll find me over there tonight. My post goes live at 8:00 pm (Eastern). It’s a post I wrote last year, but did not publish here, about my personal experience with PPD and PPA after Jax was born. It was difficult to write and required courage and strength to share. This holds true for the other 23 letters, too, so your support and words of encouragement over at Postpartum Progress are greatly appreciated.

If you’re active on Twitter, you can join the conversation by following and using the hashtag for the rally, which is #momsdayrally.

Here is the posting schedule:
Midnight – Welcome message and Sarah Pinnix, Real Life
1am – Lauren Hale, My Postpartum Voice
2am – Miranda Wicker, Not Super Just Mom
3am – Ana Clare Rouds
4am – Arja Lytle, Balance Body & Soul
5am – Yael Saar, PPD to Joy
6am – Cristi Comes, Motherhood Unadorned
7am – Robin Farr, Farewell Stranger
8am – Jen Hajer, The Martha Project
9am – Lori Bollinger, I Can Grow People
10am – JD Bailey, Honest Mom
11am – Abby Berner
noon – Andrea Scher, Superhero Life
1pm – Lori Garcia, Mommyfriend
2pm – Jane Roper, JaneRoper.com
3pm – Katie L., Overflowing Brain
4pm – Jenna Rosener, Blogged Bliss
5pm – Ninotchka Beavers, Twice Blessed
6pm – Alison Parson, Ms. Moody Mommy
7pm – Jessica Cohen, Found the Marbles
8pm – ME! :)
9pm – Kristen Chase, Motherhood Uncensored
10pm – Amber Koter-Puline, Beyond Postpartum
11pm – Jennifer Marshall, Bipolar Mom Life
I am deeply honored to be included in this event and look forward to reading every letter. May is Maternal Mental Health Month, and I can’t think of a better way to spread awareness than this rally. Click the image below to join us!
Mother's Day Rally

DBT and distractionDistraction is my go-to device when it comes to tolerating distress. When I am sad especially, historically I’ve relied on watching television to distract me from the thoughts making me feel worse. But television isn’t the most convenient device, even with all the apps I’ve loaded onto my phone. For example, if I’m in the office (where I spend most of my waking hours per week), I can’t exactly discreetly open up my Netflix app, as much as I’d love to do that! When I’m driving, I can’t safely check out what’s on HBOGo.

Given that anxiety can pop up at any inconvenient moment, regardless of my location, I’ve had to rely on other forms of distraction.

In dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT), cognitive and behavioral therapies are combined with a dash of mindfulness. In my experience with it (as a client), the terms “emotional mind,” “reasonable mind,” and “wise mind” have come up often to refer to the states of mind, and my goal has been to tap into wise mind as often as possible. (For a description of each, check out this website.)

I admit I dwell in emotional mind more than I should. And I sometimes experience anxiety as a result.

Enter crisis survival strategies like distraction, which is only one of the crisis survival strategies I’ve learned in therapy. “Crisis” sounds intense, doesn’t it? Let’s tone that down a bit to mean any level of anxiety experienced, or even negative thinking. These strategies help guide me out of emotional mind and into reasonable or, even better, wise mind.

I have a handout from the Skills Training Manual… by Marsha Linehan, who is the founder of DBT. The top of the handout says:

A useful way to remember these skills is the phrase Wise Mind ACCEPTS.

ACCEPTS is an acronym for Activities, Contributing, Comparisons, opposite Emotions, Pushing away, other Thoughts, and intense other Sensations.

My favorite example of a way to distract with activities is cleaning–typically my bathroom–which is a great way to distract yourself from anger (at least for me it is)! More examples include taking a walk, soaking in a bubble bath, making a cup of tea, journaling (such as in a Positivity Notebook), having a photo shoot with your kids, or playing a game. Sometimes I do these things on autopilot, without noticing I’m distracting myself.

Distracting with contributing includes volunteer work or performing a random act of kindness. Focusing on others can help get us out of our own heads.

Distracting with comparisons can mean reading a news item about a disaster and comparing yourself with those suffering more than you. It can be helpful to realize there’s always someone worse off than you. Even more helpful might be to compare your present self with yourself a few years ago–are you doing better now than you were then?

Distracting with opposite emotions means doing something that creates a different emotion than what you’re feeling. For instance, watching a scary movie (or other emotional movie) or enjoying a stand-up comedy performance can change your mood.

Distracting with pushing away means leaving the situation mentally for a while, putting a wall between it and yourself. A technique that has helped me is to schedule worry time for later in the day. Sometimes I find that I’ve missed my window for worrying (and that I don’t care, at that point)!

Distracting with other thoughts is actually kind of fun. It can mean counting to 10 or 100 (or any other number that intrigues you), reading something engrossing, or–my favorite–watching TV.

Distracting with intense other sensations sounds pretty cool. It means using physical stimulation like holding ice in your palm, squeezing a stress ball, listening to music very loudly, taking a cold (or hot) shower, or snapping a rubber band on your wrist.

I love the handout because it is full of ideas, which I’ve summarized above, for distracting yourself right out of a bad mood, anxiety, or pretty much anything else. Distraction isn’t always bad!

Do you ever use distraction to change your mood?

 

photo by: broo_am

Yesterday’s tragic news shook me to my core. Since I have been a mother, I’ve learned what triggers my anxieties and have learned to avoid them at all costs. The news is one of my triggers, and I somehow manage to successfully avoid it–even with a husband who is addicted to MSNBC.

Having the day off from work, I spent yesterday morning packing up donations to give to a family who experienced their own tragedy recently, and I weeded through Jackson’s baby clothes to make up a box for my pregnant cousin. Talk about emotional! I may have even snuggled an empty newborn outfit–the one I brought my baby home in. I had on music, not the television, and I had been working too furiously to check in to social media. I was in my own sheltered, small world, without even realizing or appreciating how good that felt until much later.

Once I finished packing up boxes, I left to go visit my uncle, who is a doctor and who agreed to give me my belated flu shot. It was around 2:45 pm when I walked into his office and sat down in the waiting room, where some news channel was on the tv, like it always is when I go there. I thought, “I need to talk to him about that. Maybe something lighter would be better for a doctor’s office waiting room!”

And then I started to piece together what I was seeing. I opened up Twitter and asked someone to fill me in, thinking it would be gentler to hear the news from a friend than from CNN.

And reading through the first of many replies to my tweet, I started to cry.

The receptionist asked me if I was ok. Through tears, I told her I hadn’t seen the news all day and was learning what was going on. I explained that I have anxiety and a 3-year-old son before I started crying again.

We talked for a few minutes, and I calmed down a little bit before she led me into the individual room where my uncle would see me. While I was alone, I texted my husband and my mother to try to fill in some of the gaps for me and simply to tell someone I was struggling very much.

Then I got that dreaded needle, which added a physical dimension of pain.

My uncle and I talked for a few minutes about my anxiety, about our family, about parenthood, about the shooting. I left there feeling calmer, but shaken still, of course. I drove to my next errand, the entire time fighting with myself whether to skip the errand and rush to daycare to pick up Jax versus resuming my life as usual and completing the errand right down the street from the office. It made sense to run the errand. It felt like taking control, it felt like maybe it would stop the anxiety spiral. So I ran the errand. On my drive to the daycare immediately afterward, some jerk cut me off in traffic and then I lost it completely. I wailed on the steering wheel as words screamed out of my mouth that I didn’t even know I was thinking. I was angry and scared.

The tragedy evoked a feeling in me that I haven’t had since I suffered from postpartum anxiety (PPA). During my PPA, I worried–is there a stronger word for worry?–that something tragic was going to happen to my son. I worried he would become ill, or that someone would hurt him in some way. I worried I couldn’t protect him from any of it. I called my dad one day during the early part of my maternity leave, sobbing into the phone about how hard it is to be a parent and how impossible it felt to keep a child safe. ‘ll never forget that frantic feeling, the anxiety of being a new mother and trying to figure out how to shield my baby from everything, then realizing I can’t. That feeling returned like a tsunami yesterday.

At a red light, I reached into my purse and fumbled for my pill bottle. It had become suddenly apparent I wouldn’t be able to mother Jax the way he needed without some help calming myself down before I saw him. I didn’t want to be like this in front of him. I didn’t want my fear to become his fear.

I swallowed a pill and decided then I would take Jax out for ice cream after dinner. Life, for us, would continue as normal today. I say that with some guilt, of course. But more so with gratitude.

I think that ice cream sundae was the most delicious one I’ve had in my entire life.

With hesitation, I checked Twitter and Facebook this morning after having avoided them nearly the entire day yesterday (to avoid triggering myself any further). I was glad I did because of this tweet I saw right away:

https://twitter.com/the_lame_sauce/status/279800893220745217

I read the article Gregg tweeted, and it reminded me of what my uncle said yesterday: There are more good people in this world than there are people who would murder children. We can only try our best to keep our children safe without sheltering them too much from the world, but we cannot let our fears become their fears.

That’s how I experienced this event. I hope those of you reading are healing and hugging and counting your blessings.

 

 

Even when you know your triggers and how to avoid them, sometimes they still getcha.

I got an email the other day presenting an opportunity to submit a piece of writing about my PPD experience to a parenting magazine with a vast circulation. Naturally, I am very excited by this chance to use my voice in a far-reaching arena. So I spent the weekend thinking about what I wanted to say about my personal experience. I re-read every blog post tagged with PPD, some of them multiple times. Early this morning, I finally drafted my story and then emailed it to a few trusted individuals with superb writing and/or editing skills. And then it hit me.

Reliving that time period was kind of brutal. I’ve relived it many times before, but I must not have had PMS on those days. It must not have been a gray, drizzly weekend. I must not have re-read those blog posts on days when my toddler was sobbing as I dropped him off at daycare and my car was giving me a hard time.There probably wasn’t a thousand other things on my mind at the time.

Today has been a challenge. I had to spend my lunchbreak shopping, focusing on Christmas gifts, just to get out of my own head for an hour after all that heavy stuff. I called a friend, also a PPD blogger selected for this same opportunity, and warned her not to embark on her draft unless she was in a certain mindset already. And we shared a few laughs until I felt lighter. Something about sequined headphones…

I hope I am one of the few bloggers whose story is ultimately selected to appear in print. I’ll keep you posted about that. But I am friends with some of the other bloggers selected, and let me just say this: I’ll be reading the issue with so much pride in what my friends are sharing about their experiences. I’m grateful for the chance to write mine down again, even though it was a little painful. It’s all part of growing, and like another friend texted me earlier today, “Don’t be sad. Look how far you’ve come.”

 

This post is for A’Driane, Kim, Charity, and all of the women I know (and those I don’t know) who are suffering from postpartum depression and/or mental illness and can’t see the light. There is light. And it’s all around you.

The light is the #ppdchat group. The light is Katherine Stone and Postpartum Progress. The light is Yael Saar and the Mama’s Comfort Camp. The light is a whole community of fierce stigma-fighters, right at your side. The light is bright, it is always present (someone is always around), it cannot be extinguished. Not by the lies your brain is telling you. Not by people who don’t understand. Not even by you, even when you want to give up when life seems way too hard. You don’t give up. You keep fighting. Because you are STRONG. You are more than your thoughts. You are the light, too.

I only began listening to Mumford & Sons with the recent release of their album, Babel. A few weeks ago, my friend and fellow Warrior Mom, Lindsay, mentioned that their song “Ghosts That We Knew” reminded her of the PPDchat mommas.

I couldn’t bring myself to listen to the song until this morning. I haven’t been in a strong place myself lately, and I worried that the song would bring a torrent of tears. Even though I have recovered from postpartum depression, I am still bruised from it. I feel the ripples sometimes. And the women I got to know during the time I was suffering are my friends. We’re like war buddies.

This morning, I felt strong enough to hear the song and listen to the words and think of my friends. Although the song did make me cry, I feel okay because it also reminded me of my strength & yours.

” So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light”

“Ghosts That We Knew”

You saw my pain, washed out in the rain
Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins
But you saw no fault no cracks in my heart
And you knelt beside my hope torn apart
But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
And we’ll live a long life
So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
‘Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold as long as you like
Just promise me we’ll be alright

So lead me back
Turn south from that place
And close my eyes to my recent disgrace
‘Cause you know my call
And we’ll share my all
And Now children come and they will hear me roar
So give me hope in the darkness that i will see the light
‘Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold as long as you like
Just promise me we’ll be alright

But hold me still bury my heart on the cold
And hold me still bury my heart next to yours

So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
‘Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold on with all of my might
Just promise me we’ll be alright

But the ghosts that we knew made us black and all blue
But we’ll live a long life
And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
And we’ll live a long life