Doing The Unstuck

I haven't been truly depressed since I was about 21. It started when I was about 19 and lasted about 18 months. I got help. I even took meds until it passed. My parents were super supportive. My friends stuck by me. Most days, I can barely remember it. I do remember it full force on days where depression threatens to darken my doorway again, but thankfully, those times are far and few between (maybe 2 or 3 days per year). It happens so rarely because following that depression, I learned alot about myself and what my triggers for depression are and smart ways for me to avoid them. Depression runs deep in my family so I constantly take proactive steps to stay ahead of that lurking shadow. I truly believe that decisions I make including the attitude I adopt about any given situation has more control over my brain than my family history does.

I dipped pretty low after Georgia was born and it FREAKED me out. It was such a huge contrast to how much joy I felt after Wil was born. The guilt of that contrast made me feel even more depressed. I mean, I'd just had a beautiful little girl and I could barely speak without hissing through gritted teeth. After I had Wil, my cheek muscles ached for MONTHS from the euphoric smiling. People probably thought I was high and I felt alot like I was. I was just so damn happy. Justin and I couldn't even wait the 4 weeks until my OBGYN gave us the green light... eeww! I know!

I knew it was not "normal" for me to feel that good all the damn time. We all wondered if motherhood just really agreed with me and maybe I'd found my purpose in life, and how damn ironic that it was motherhood. I truly enjoyed every moment of it.

That euphoria lasted until the morning sickness of Georgia's pregnancy set in - and after that passed, I felt my normal speed again. Not euphoric, but certainly not depressed. I was happy to be pregnant again, knowing it was probably the last time for us. I was relieved in alot of ways to be feeling normal again. Shiny-happy-Jessee was probably obnoxious.

I felt normal again, I was stressed at times, but no more so than during the pregnancy with Wil. I felt "normal" until about two weeks after I got home from the hospital with Georgia when things got dark. I never felt like a danger to myself or others, but I felt almost every other symptom underneath that on the post-partum depression warning poster. I could NOT stop crying.

When it was obvious that I wasn't snapping out of it, my mom, my sister, and my husband insisted that I go speak to someone. I just didn't want to. I totally support seeing a therapist and even taking meds when necessary, but I just didn't want to TALK. So instead of being verbal, I started exercising my head off!

If you know me, my choice to replace words with exercise was probably even more evidence that I was entirely off my rocker. I am active in general - there are times when I really embrace exercise in my life but I always fucking resent it. It pisses me off. Exercise and I remain respectful enemies. I know I need it, but I hate it the whole time. At one point, Amy and I used to take turns running to the stove to stir the cooking pasta between Tae Bo kicks and punches - so as not to delay dinner. But we totally took the Tae Bo seriously though. We (ok I) cut out photos of celebs from magazines and taped them up all around the living room as focal points for the punching and kicking spots.

I hadn't exercised with any regularity since before my pregnancy with Wil two years prior. Regardless, I decided I would try exercise before therapy. So - every day, I brought the kids to my Mom's and my Nike Free 5.0's (best running shoes in history), my iPod, and I really wrestled the demons out of me. It worked.

Week one: Strictly blind faith or fury - auto pilot
Week two: Noticeably better
Week three: I recognized myself again and laughed
Week four: I felt my version of "normal" again.


It felt really powerful to know I had the power to help myself like that. I've never identified with bulemia or anorexia being a way to control your environment but this exercise-to-fight-depression made it clearer to me. I was proud of myself for trying something else first when in my family, it seems that medicating (self or otherwise) seems to be the preferred method of dealing with emotional issues.

Whenever I think of that time after Georgia's birth AND/OR the time I was so depressed between 19 and 21, a song literally floods my brain... It's called Doing The Unstuck by The Cure:

kick out the gloom
kick out the blues
tear out the pages with all the bad news
pull down the mirrors and pull down the wall
stear up the stairs and tear up the floors
oh just burn down the house!
burn down the street!
turn everything red and the beat is complete
with the sound of your world going up in fire
it's a perfect day to throw back your head
and kiss it all goodbye

I am singing this song today...



O