It’s been WAY to long since I’ve updated but the truth is I struggle to write when I’m feeling good so I guess I better break the news. I’m feeling good, best I’ve felt in 5+ years. Let me make it clear that this is in regards to my mental state. I’ve been so sick for so long, I feel like a different person and to be honest I’m working (with my therapist’s help) on how to cope with my new perspective on life. I will always continue to better myself and my mental health. As always I will never be cured and I’m okay with that (finally), it gives me a reason to never give up. So why am I feeling so good? Well I stuck to my word, after my true rock bottom in the hospital 10 months ago, I’m giving it my all to my recovery, not only for myself but for my family. Religiously I have seen my psychiatrist and my therapist. In November, I began a new medication treatment with anticonvulsants. I was skeptical about the meds for obvious reasons but I needed something because I couldn’t fight this alone. I’ve been on these medications for 8 months now and couldn’t feel better. I believe my body negatively reacts to antipsychotic medication and inevitably work against me. These new meds have been a life changer. I’m not getting negative side effects and they aren’t sedating me. With the help of the medication I’m able to work deeper on my therapy and get the root of my issues and learn to cope positively. My biggest struggle right now is holidays. They are very triggering for me. I’m also learning the difference between depressed and stressed, which means I have to learn how to handle stress (uncontrolled situation) and cope proactively. At my May appointment with my psychiatrist, he was pleased with my progress and scheduled me out to November for my next follow up. That’s the longest distance in a follow up appointment I’ve ever had. #milestone Like can I get a HELL YEA?! On the home front, things are ....stressful. Unless you live under a rock, you should know farming in anywhere in 2019 sucks. In May alone we got at least 10 inches of rain. This kept the tractors out of fields and left anger farmers at home (with their wives). Our income will be effected as well as most farmers’ and the bills are still due. Frankly this issue could be a whole post in itself. But like I said things are stressful. However on the other end of our home front, it’s officially summer break for the kiddos. Our Ms. A graduated from Preschool this spring, so she will be starting Kindergarten full time this fall. Cooper still has one more year of half day preschool and then I won’t know what to do with my hands when they are both gone all day. I fantasize about those days which are coming in close. #momgoals We had a great time spending our Christmas in Florida and both kids sang beautifully at their spring concert. Daddy & A got to go to their first Father/Daughter Dance last fall. I think I can finally say that have them both fully potty trained besides at night. This is and isn’t easier, but hey no more diaper bag but I think it takes us longer to leave the house. #compromise We are trying to keep our summer pretty open. We’ve already had some fun days. We got A into some Ballet/Tap classes this summer and she loves it. Both growing up so fast, A turned 5 this June and C turns 4 in August. #nomorebabies In the barn, things have been a little exciting. In late November we acquired two bred cows, who were due in March. Very tame pair of girls, I was very excited to add them to our herd. I had started to intensely watch over them starting in February, just like a 9 month pregnant women nesting. #cowdoula In late February I began having problems with my gallbladder again. I was trying to hold off on surgery until the calves were born, but of course things didn’t happen that way. It was March 14th, still no babies, and I went in for a surgical consult. They happen to be able to schedule me for surgery the next morning. I thought, “ Great, get it done ASAP and I won’t miss the births”. HA! At 8pm on March 15th (8hrs post op) baby #1 was born. Luckily I didn’t have to contribute, but I wasn’t able to handle the calf how I wanted to. Then 5 days later (while still trying to recover) baby #2 is born. Both heifers which is prefect for our breeding plan. Thankfully all went as planned and the mommas took care of anything without my help. Just been watching them grow, as always, the barn has been such a special place for me. It continues to contribute to my lasting recovery. Also contributing to my recovery is one very special road trip that I took and I can’t wait to tell you about in my next post!
0 Comments
Our lives revolve around social media so much in the day and age that people rarely realize the psychological effects it has. Sure I get on Facebook to share photos of my kids with long distance family and friends. It’s a great way to communicate with those people. It’s also a great way for me to compare my life to others.
Social media is always about posting the best selfie or posting a photogenic photo of how happy your family might seem. My mental illness feeds off of this. “Hey Mary, you’re really not having a great day, but let’s spend 4 hours on Facebook and Instagram see what great things everyone else is doing that you are not.” It’s not that I’m not happy for my friends and family with all the great things they share but my mental illness turns those happy posts into over analyzing the lack of happiness in my life. And I think social media puts even more pressure on mothers. Look, Carrie spent her day baking cookies with her kids, while I spent my day avoiding my kids by turning on Mickey for the 100th time. See where I’m going with this. I don’t need to see every fantastic meal you made, or your kids school project, or the family trip you took to Mexico last summer. Because every picture and every post, tears me down into a deeper depression. So I’m going spend my December social media free. I will be deleting Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram apps from my phone December 1st. I will however keep my Facebook messenger available if anyone needs to contact for school events and such but the important people, the non-toxic, supportive people I want in my life, have my number. They know who they are and I’ll been in touch with them. Right now, I need to focus on me and not on social media (Especially during the holidays). So Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Wishing you all the best. Remember you are never alone #lifeasiknowit It has been just over 2 months since I came out of the inpatient facility. When I first got out, I was on this mental high. I was determined things would be different, I was optimistic of the future. I was motivated to make a change. I was able to get therapy and psychiatrist appointments shortly after my discharge. I show enthusiasm in those appointments, and determined to make a change. We turned a new direction in therapy to really hit key point. And my psychiatrist gave me a new diagnosis (Bipolar Disorder Type 2) and gave a new and improved medication to try.
After many of the stories I've shared about my struggle with mental illness, let alone that fact that I've struggled for most of my life, I didn't think I'd finally hit rock bottom at the age of 29. But the last 48 hours were just that; my rock bottom.
Since I became public about my struggles with mental illness, I’ve had a variety of responses. At first they were mostly encouraging. It’s been over two years since I’ve opened up and now I’m regretting that decision. I’m still struggling daily with my disease. And because I’m open about my struggles, I feel like I wear them on my sleeve, for EVERYONE to see. I feel like even the people that pass by see and feel the weight of my mental illness. This was nothing I was prepared for.
When I first came forward, I had a pretty decent support group, between the encouraging readers and family, but most of all I had my best friend. She was huge leaning post in my darkest of days. She was there to pick me when I was in a slump, she was there to pick up the slack when I needed help at home with the kids. She was a lifesaver. And I tried to tell her that as much as I could. As time passed, she got married, she got pregnant, but most importantly they joined the military and moved away. It crushed my whole world. That saving grace was gone. Not only did she move away but she decided that I was no longer a friend she wanted. Heartbreaking to say the least. She exclaimed how I wasn’t a good friend and that only my needs were allowed to be met. I may not take full responsibility but I do take some. I was an difficult spot and I used her more and let her use me less. I was a shitty friend. The words she used to describe the way I made her feel were like daggers. But maybe it was all something I needed to hear. I was so in my own pain and depression, that I didn’t think about the needs of others around me. Now I still sit here friendless. I was so struck by her words, why would anyone else fathom being my friend. I’m not by any means cured and I still struggle just as bad as I did back then. Who would even want to be around me? And yet the one thing I feel I can find happiness in is friendship. I want a friend I can talk to everyday. They know everything about my life and I know everything about theirs. I want a friend that I can go to lunch with or concerts or just sit on the couch all afternoon binge watching our favorite show. I want a friend that will be there in the hard times and still want to be there. I’ve been heartbroken so many times by friends, it’s hard not to believe it’s me. I know I’m not happy all the time. I know I’m not always encouraging or uplifting. I have flaws but don’t we all. Am I unlovable because of my mental illness? Am I incapable of being a friend because of my mental illness? If my inability to have a friend is because of my mental illness then just unfriend me now. Save me from the pain, save me from the anxiety, most of all save me from the lies. And if by chance there is someone out there who is willing to put up with all my flaws and all my struggles, and give me unconditional friendship, then here I am waiting for you to walk in to my life. Please hurry ♥️ I grew up (part-time) on a small hobby cattle farm. My dad had a cow/calf operation with less than 10 head at a time. My fondest memories as a child were on that cattle farm. Feeding the cows, refilling water tanks or just watching them graze. My father, an agriculture teacher at the time, instilled a passion in me for livestock, but not any livestock- cows. That passion only grew bigger when the farm was eventually sold. I spent years yearning for that feeling again, the feeling of joy that owning cattle gave me. I continued to study them throughout my high school and college years. I, even, specifically earned a beef science certificate during time in college for my own knowledge. I dreamt that one day I would feel that joy again from owning my own cattle.
![]() Growing up with divorced parents, I never had a place to call my own. Most people don't even realize the truth of that sentence. Not until I moved in with my husband did I have a real home of my own. As a child it was always either "Mom's House" or "Dad's House", never did I use to the word home. However with all that transitioning back and forth, one thing always stayed the same, the Catholic Church. My parents were both Catholic and baptized me and raised me the same. I went all though CCD (Catholic sunday school) courses. I was confirmed and became an official Catholic somewhere around the age of 12. Even though, I was forced to do all of this, my parents never made going to church a priority. It was just something I had to hurry up and get done and that was it. We were more of the holiday Catholics, the ones you would only see during holidays like Christmas and Easter. Also with divorced parents, they would never go to the same church so I had several churches I would attend, but no matter where in the world you go, a catholic mass is the same every single time. And for me, that was the only stable thing in my life. It felt like home. I felt accepted no matter what. As I grew older, it became more of my choice whether I attended Mass or not. Most times not, probably because of my anxiety more than anything. But like I said, my parents never made it a priority and I saw that growing up, so why would I do it now as an adult. ![]() He took me by my shoulders, almost to shake it out of me. I couldn’t bare to even look at him, but the pain became too unbearable. “I just want to die” The 5 words I managed to utter out to my husband while holding back the tears. It was different this time. It was painful this time. There was a reason this time. On April 24th, 2018, I was officially diagnosed with PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). And it all hit me like a brick wall I didn’t see coming. I quit my anti-depressant last April. I felt really good all summer long, even had a good harvest. Then somewhere in November as the holiday season drew near things started to plummet. It wasn’t a steep hill but it was coming. We took Thanksgiving on as minimal as possible. I tried to make the best of Christmas, it was like life failed to be satisfying. At the end of January, we took our winter trip to Florida. Just before Christmas, we took a break from social media and continued it throughout our vacation. It was just what I needed. Not only was I offline and not comparing my life to others, I became closer to my family. My husband and I were on such a intimate emotional level, it was hard to feel depressed when life felt so good. As we returned home, all hell broke loose. My husband’s truck broke down, just 6 hours from home on a Friday afternoon. With no help until Monday, the kids and I rented a car to drive home so that A could return to school. At the time we were thinking my husband would return home only a few days later. However after being stuck there for 21 days, he finally came home. During those 21 days, I was a single mother. We even took a trip to visit him during that time. The one of the hardest part of being away from my husband was when only days after I returned home, my mother in law rushed me to the ER with severe abdominal pain. This pain was very similar to the physical “anxiety attacks” I’ve explained before. Except this time, the pain wouldn’t subside. It turned out to be gallstones. For the last 3 years, when I would have the extremely painfully anxiety attacks, then ended up being gallstone attacks, but the pain triggered my anxiety. Surgery was the game plan but first I wanted my husband home. With my husband being away for so long, it took a hard hit to our emotional state. All of us, even the kids were effected. I was strong when I needed to be but I was crumbling on the inside. Fast forward to Easter, I wasn’t doing great but I wasn’t doing bad. I was coping. And then a package came in the mail. The handwritten address was too familiar. So familiar it was a knife to my chest, the handwriting was my mother’s. I have been estranged from my mother for almost 5 years now. She would go in spirts with sending communication, but we hadn’t received anything for a while, and I was perfectly fine with that. But this Easter, that package broke something in me that had been damaged for a long time. The repetitive nightmares began, excessive crying, paranoia. But most importantly I was suicidal. I had felt these feelings before but never on this level or this intense. Trauma is so much different. Trauma isn’t being depressed because you have a chemical imbalance. You’re depression has a reason and that only makes it more severe. I have a chronic traumatic past. Going back and forth to both homes on top of the emotional abuse and neglect. It was never a single event. It was my whole childhood. And for damn reason at 28 years old, I still can’t cope with the effects of my childhood. It controls even ounce of me. My therapist best put as a rubber ball. I keep trying push and hold this ball underwater but it just keeps coming up. I put all my emotions and energy into holding this ball under but it never works. Instead of trying to push this ball under, I need to let it go. Let the ball float away. I may be able to still see it and it might come close sometime but if I let it go, I can focus my emotions and energy on my life now, present day. My husband. My kids. My family. So now I have to learn how to let go, how to cope. I can’t change the past, but I can make sure it doesn’t control me. I’m now on a new anti-psychotic medication to help the symptoms. But this is going to take much more work than medicine. If you or someone you know is struggling with depression and anxiety, please visit MHA or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255. ![]() Thank you to all of you who voted in my poll to rename my blog! Although I loved the name '#FarmMomLife', I found it wasn't correctly depicting the content that I was writing in my blog. My blog was originally started as a "mommy blog" and meant to be comedic. However, shortly after starting my blog, I wrote a post explaining the first onset of my depression. This was the first time I had public shared my struggles with depression and I had an outpour of positive reactions. I had several people messaging me, thanking me for my courage and that it in turn gave them the courage to come forward as well. Because of the response I got from that post, I began writing about my journey fighting depression. And now two years later, what a journey it's been.
The content of my blog will not change, nor will my past posts.
I vow to continue to share my story and #stopthestigma around Mental Health. This is Life as I know it. ![]()
Three months ago, I was contemplating my own life.
I didn't realize until recently that that was my rock bottom. That was my lowest low. That was also my turning point. I feel, now, as thought I had to hit that bottom to start my progression upwards. Today, I can see clearly. Today, I don't know the women I was three months ago. Today, I don't know the women I was three years ago. Today, I'm a new women, because I can see clearly now. |
My Medical Statistics: Diagnosis: Major Depression Disorder PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) Severe Generalized Anxiety Disorder Prescription: Clonazepam 1mg Psychiatrist: Psychologist: Moeller, Myers and Associates, Sterling, IL Archives
November 2018
|