2400 words on where I’ve been. Again.

Saturday, May 2nd, 2009

Irony is spending twenty minutes trying to explain how you haven’t posted in days because you lost your damn mind and having your daughter delete the entire damn post on accident.

Son of a bitch.

Let me try this again.

My dad, stepmom, aunt and sister were here from Sunday night thru Thursday this past week.  I’ve been wanting to tell you about how great it was – about all of the things we did and saw and shared together – but I’ve been too damn tired at the end of the day to string a sentence together.  And I’ve been too ashamed to talk about what a raging bitch I was for their entire visit.

Even now, three days after they’ve gone, I keep thinking about picking up the phone to apologize.  But it’s too much.  It’s too big.  I can feel the weight of it just on the outskirts of what I can handle, and I want to run from it because it will crush me if I let it in.

I screamed at my dad for bringing the kids home late from the beach.  I was an absolute bitch to my stepmom and everyone around  me because Devin has to get home and in bed early!

I was awful.  I was absolutely awful.  And I hate that their memories of this trip, of the hundreds of dollars they spent to see us, will forever be tainted by how unpleasant I was to be around.

Let me try this again.

Thursday morning, while my family and Emma went off to find alligators one last time before they flew home, I was at home working.  I spent 40 minutes on the phone with a client.  I pace when I talk on the phone.  So for 40 minutes I walked back and forth between my office and my kitchen.  By the time I got off the phone, I couldn’t breathe.

Great, I’m so fat and out of shape that pacing has become too vigorous for me.

I hung up and tried to breathe.  I sat at my desk and tried to answer email and still, I couldn’t breathe.  The words jumped around on the screen and my mind tried to follow them, all while I tried to fill my lungs with air.  I finally gave up and decided to watch TV until it was time to take everyone to the airport.

Just get them to the airport, and then you can fall apart.

I don’t know how to explain what was going on with me on that drive to the airport except to compare it to clenching a fist, to holding on, hanging on – except my fingers were fine.  It was my brain that was clenched, my jaw that was tight, my mind that was holding on to reality as tightly as I could for just a little while longer.

I got home, laid Emma on the couch beside me, and let go.

I gave up.  I quit.  I ignored the phone in my office that was ringing.  I shut off the ringer on my cell phone.  I hung on to my children and that was it.  Everything else was gone.  I was done.

Eventually, they’ll all give up and go away.  They’ll be mad, and then they’ll have to go away.

I laid there like that for hours.  For the rest of the night.  I knew Adam, my boss and my friend, would be angry and worried. But I just didn’t care.  I couldn’t care.  I didn’t want to care or worry or think about what this was doing to anyone else anymore.  The kids ate and played and watched movies around me, and nothing beyond that mattered.

I’m alive because of those babies.  I cannot leave them.  For them and for me – because I needed them to be OK.

In the middle of the darkness, they were the only thing that could bring me to the surface.  For moments at a time, they would need me and I could be there for them and it was as if it was someone else responding to them.  I know that doesn’t sound right.  It doesn’t make sense.  But they were the only ones who could ask me a question or need me and it didn’t feel like the whole world was crashing down on me.  In that moment, while I was holding them or answering them or getting them what they wanted, I was whole.

And then they’d return to their games and I was gone again.

I finally texted Adam late into the night.  “I’m not dead.  I’m just hiding.”

I knew that wouldn’t be enough, but it was all I had to offer him.  It was the only excuse I could manage.  I was prepared to lose my job, possibly my friendship.  All of it could disappear and I just didn’t care.  Someone else could fix it.  Someone else would just have to handle the consequences.  I was done.

Adam sent me a text message just after 10.  The kids and Jared were in bed and I was losing myself in the easiness of TV sitcoms from the safety of my couch.

“I’m coming over.”

I begged him not to come.  I told him everyone was asleep.  He didn’t respond.  15 minutes later he knocked on my door.

I was angry at him for making me face him.  I was furious that he hadn’t listened.  And then I cried.  I sobbed and apologized and told him I knew he deserved more than what I could give him and he needed to cut me loose.  I wanted him to give up on me, to fire me and walk away and just leave me to disappear.

I sat on my back porch and cried for what seemed like hours.  And he sat by me and told me that I wasn’t crazy.  He promised everything would be OK when I knew it wouldn’t be.  And then he sat on my loveseat while I laid back down on my couch and watched TV again.

I want to say something here about why it was Adam, and not Jared, that sat with me.  I know there are people who will judge both me and Jared – and possibly Adam – for the roles each of us played and the ones we didn’t that night.  I want to make you understand what it’s like to fall apart in front of your husband.  The man who loves you, the man who counts on you – who needs you to be OK – and how that becomes just another weight on you.

Why won’t you talk to me?

And I couldn’t tell him that I was afraid of what was wrong with me.  I couldn’t tell him that the blood tests came back and said I was fine, and yet I knew I was not fine.  I’m torn between wanting him to see that I am not completely broken and needing him to know that whatever is happening to me is bigger than I can handle.  And I think, too, he is torn between wanting to reassure us both that I am fine and struggling to know how to fix me.

It is because the love and the need and the expectations are too damn big, I think.

It’s the same reason I couldn’t face my own mother. Because I’m always her daughter and she’s always my mother and there’s just too much in that relationship to face when you’re struggling to hold on.

So, that was Thursday.  I survived, through my children and the TV and, at the end, Adam.

I had my doctor’s appointment Friday.

I dragged myself out of bed and got Devin to the bus and Emma to daycare.  I came home exhausted after being awake for about two hours.

Just hang on until you get to the doctor.

My appointment was at 11 and at 10:15 I considered not going.  I laughed a little at the irony of being too tired to go to the doctor and explain that I was just so damn tired all the time.  Instead, I got out a piece of paper and made a list of the symptoms.  Tired.  Irritable.  Numbness and tingling.  That breathing thing.  Weight gain.  I finished the list and folded it up and tucked it into my back pocket.  I gathered up the print off of my blood tests – the one that said I was fine – and put one foot in front of the other as I made my way out to the car.

I picked up a stack of checks that needed to be deposited on my way out the door.

The bank was directly across the street from my doctor’s office.  I was a few minutes early and decided to be productive by stopping to make this deposit.  I took my wallet out of my purse and the handful of checks, locked my car door behind me, and went to the walk up ATM.

Checks not received.

The ATM spit out the first check I’d tried to enter.  My hands started to shake.  I couldn’t get the checks into the machine.

Fuck it, I have to hurry.

I walked into the bank lobby and a stranger had to show me which way was the entrance into the roped off line.  I found myself wishing I had put makeup on as I stood there shaking, clutching my wallet and my checks and my last shred of composure.

I can help who’s next.

I laid my checks on the counter and told the teller I needed to make a deposit.  She asked for a deposit slip and I felt like she’d asked me to take a test.

Can’t I just.. here… can’t you…

I need a deposit slip.  Fill this out.

I scribbled in the amounts and added up the numbers.  I was trying not to cry – over a fucking bank form.  I stared back at the numbers and saw that my math told me I was depositing over $3,000.  Except I wasn’t.  I knew I wasn’t.  I couldn’t make the decimals line up and I couldn’t do it again and -

Nevermind, I’ll use the machine.

I gathered up the pile of checks and the goddamn slip and walked back outside to the ATM.  Breathe.  Breathe.  Put the checks in slowly.  You can do this.  And I did.  I made my deposit and made my way back to my car.  I unlocked the door, and went to put my debit card back into my wallet.

Where is my wallet?

Son of a bitch.  I ran back inside the bank and pushed my way to the front of the line, shaking harder now and failing at not crying.  My wallet wasn’t there.  It was gone.  I ran back out to my car – looking across the street at the doctor’s office as I ran.  I tore apart my purse and pushed the seats back on my car.

I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. keith divx movie online

It was gone.  And with it was my ID and my insurance card – and my doctor’s appointment.

I was sobbing by the time I made my way into the lobby of the doctor’s office.  Thank God no one was there to see me except for the receptionists.  Through tears I explained what had happened.  One of the receptionists gave me her card and told me to call when I found my ID.

You can’t treat someone without ID.  I knew that, but I went in anyway so that they wouldn’t charge me for not showing up.

I drove home through big sobs.  I searched my house on the off chance that I’d left my wallet at home.  I called Jared and sobbed and apologized and told him what had happened the best I could.  I was so fucking humiliated.  I’d lost my goddamn wallet because I was too frazzled to use an ATM properly.

I  spent the rest of the day in bed watching movies on my laptop.  For the record – do not watch movies with horribly sad endings when you are depressed.  Jesus.

There are more details I’m leaving out.  Adam ordered me a new ID and got my prescription for Cymbalta refilled after calling my last doctor at home.  Jared picked up the kids and my prescription and ordered me a new insurance card and fed me chicken tacos.  Four movies and countless hours later, the fog started to lift.

I called Hilly and found myself laughing.  I was able to explain what had happened without crying.  I called Erin and again, didn’t cry.

I can do this.

And then I slept until 12:30 this morning.  I never, ever sleep that long.

I don’t know what is wrong with me.  I’ve given up trying to diagnose myself.  The disappointment in finding out I am wrong is stress I don’t need right now.

I’m disappointed in myself.  I wish I was stronger and better and more of what my husband and children deserve.  I’m angry that I am not permanently fixed after clawing my way out of depression last December.  I’m scared at what that might mean.  I’m embarassed that I seem to be so horribly, terribly flawed.

My family reads this blog.  My husband’s family reads this blog.  People who love my children and my husband read this blog and I fear that they will shake their heads and wish for better for them, in much the same way that I do.  Normal, whole, healthy people read this blog and I’m horrified at how they will see me.

I don’t understand why I can’t handle the things that everyone else can.  I don’t understand why I can’t just be normal.  Permanently.  I hate what this – whatever this is – does to the people who love me.  I hate that I can’t be better for them.  I hate that I can’t be everything that they deserve me to be.

Jared didn’t grow up with this kind of shit.  He grew up surrounded by perfect, normal, healthy people who led perfect, normal, healthy lives.  I want that for him, and for Devin and for Emma.  I don’t want this to be part of their story.  I don’t want this to be my story.

I wish I could leave this body behind and start over.  I’m so tired of trying to figure out what’s wrong with it.  I’m tired of feeling guilty for who I am.

I’m just so goddamn tired of being broken.  Again.

  1. Avitable says:

    We will get you treated and we will get you better and you will feel like yourself again. I promise.

  2. This would be my story if the Zoloft I take didn’t work so well. I thank God and Jeebus and Oprah every day that it works.

    I wish only for the best for you that you find real answers.

  3. I love you. You are incredibly worthy of love.

  4. Scary Mommy says:

    Oh, honey, I’m sorry… I didn’t grow up with that kind of shit either, but Jeff did and does. And, like Jared, it’s now a part of my life. And, while it sucks, I’ll take it in return for everything else I get from him. Just like Jared, I’m sure. Sending you cyber hugs.

  5. Christy says:

    Wow. I can’t believe, in the midst of everything, how eloquently you described what it feels to deal with depression. How every-day things become impossibly huge and how the smallest upsets turn into unbearable crises. And how hard it is to also have to deal with the feeling that you’re letting everyone else down. I hope you get the help you need… which is a whole other nightmare entirely.

  6. Jane says:

    Tingling. Tiredness. Brain fog. Anxiety. Weight gain.

    All can be a part of Menopause.

    http://www.project-aware.org/Experience/symptoms.shtml

  7. OHmommy says:

    I had a pretty normal childhood, lead a pretty normal life, and like to think of myself as pretty normal.

    And yet. Not a day goes by where I don’t ask myself, “Why can’t I be normal.” I know it makes no sense at all. That is the worst part of it all.

  8. Becky says:

    Britt, no one is “normal”. If they tell you that, they are lying. People are really great at putting up a great facade of who they want to be.

    There are days that I struggle to just get out of bed. Its the sound of my children’s voices that somewhat lift the fog.

    You had a horrible shitastic day. One that would’ve sent me to the padded room. You are blessed to have friends that are willing to come over and just sit. Its scary when you feel like you can’t fall apart in front of your husband and family. All I can say is I’ve been there, still am there on occasion, and that I do understand.

    Take care.

  9. Kelly says:

    I hear you. I wish that I could help or had some wonderful advice to give. All I have are warm thoughts.

  10. Oh honey, to feel like this, and then put all this pressure on yourself- it’s not fair.
    You’re allowed to occasionally show some weakness. So Jared’s family doesn’t have this kind of shit- what else DO they have that you might not even know about?
    Just take care of yourself….
    xo

  11. Honey, I’ve been where you’re at. I really have. It’s fixable and IT WILL ALL BE BETTER. Disregard the email I sent you today. I didn’t realize what was going on with you. We can discuss that stuff when and if you still want to do it. One question and I need you to answer it…did you have a thyroid test done? If so, we need to talk ASAP.

  12. Sarah says:

    Oh Britt. I love you and I want you to know that you are one of the strongest people I know. Do you know how much strength it takes just to admit that something is wrong? I so love you and am sending you hugs dear. So hugs.

  13. Dawn says:

    I can’t tell you anything that someone else hasn’t already said or will say later, so I won’t try.

    Just this from me:

    xo

  14. Please tell me that you really ARE normal. I feel like that so often, and I really want to be considered normal, whatever that is. Xanax is the only thing that helps when I feel like that. The antidepressant doesn’t even touch it. My doctor told me that it was a chemical inbalance and that counseling wouldn’t help at all. I’m sorta glad that I skipped that step and went straight to the anti-anxiety pills. Ask any ambulance driver how many people think that they are having a heart attack when anxiety is the problem. People who haven’t experienced it really don’t understand. But they do stand by you, and that’s what counts.

  15. Sodapop says:

    Don’t lose yourself in the darkness, Britt. You can do this. You have so much love in your life and you have a beautiful family & a beautiful husband who loves you.

    Hang on and clutch at whatever light you can find. Let your family and friends help you. You’ll be feeling right as rain soon enough.

    *hugs*

  16. Marinka says:

    This must be so hard and you write about it beautifully.

    I’m glad that you’re seeking help and not trying to self-diagnose. I hope that you have answers soon and feel better.

  17. I know this must have been incredibly hard to write, and put out there for everyone to see, but I want to thank you. I’ve been going through some of the same things – the tightness in my chest almost all the time now, the overwhelmed feeling at the slightest thing, the (for me) tremendous weight gain, the crying and the meldowns. I haven’t sought treatment because I’ve been too pissed at myself for not being stronger, not being able to hack it. But I need to and you showed me that. You and I, we’re not alone and we’re not defective and we’re not wimps. We can do this.

    Thank you.

  18. Thanks for sharing, Wow.

    Now I’m about to type something, that is incredibly easy to type, but perhaps a tad harder to actually do; Don’t be so hard on yourself.

    Your ability to share, and to feel, is immense, and should not be under egged. Whatever the reasons for your behaviour, if you ever find them, to be aware of yourself is much more important.

    Take care.

  19. Adrenalynn says:

    You don’t know me, but I’ve read your blog for ages and I just wanted to say that I’ve been praying for you for a little while. I know it’ll work itself out, and in the mean time you have such awesome people there for you! YOU are awesome. Thanks for sharing.

  20. Nikki says:

    Britt,

    I hope things get better for you soon. I have been where you are and I know it’s hard (I sent you a message on facebook a few days ago about it). Don’t be afraid to lean on your friends and family right now, it’s what people who love you are there for.

  21. You are ME…10 years ago.Every.Last.Symptom. Including raging anxiety attacks. I had good doctors, but they couldn’t figure me out because all my blood tests were normal. By the time I moved to FL and found my current doctor, I had so many cysts in my thyroid, she thought I had cancer.

    The only way I got diagnosed was with a Thyroid Ultrasound. My blood tests are still normal but I have been on meds for a year. I feel at least 90% better.

    I would pursue the thyroid issue a little more. Will your insurance pay for a referral to an endocrinologist?

    Having a full-time job and being a full-time mother and wife is so stressful when you don’t feel completely healthy.

    Husbands and family want to “fix it” and they can’t. Thank God you have Adam. Sometimes you need to vent with someone who isn’t completely emotionally involved.

    I had a great therapist who would see me once a week to let me vent, cry and work things out. Psychological help is highly underated.

    Hang in there. Just know a LOT of people care and don’t think you are one bit crazy.

  22. RW says:

    Depression and anxiety and the mistakes and behavior they cause are not character flaws Britt. They are like having poor vision so you’re needing glasses or you have a poor left ear and so you need a hearing aid. You know this. I know that doesn’t change how it feels but it’s still the truth. You are too creative and too cute and too good a friend to other people when they need you to judge yourself so poorly. If I could give you a horseyback ride like I gave Emma I’d do that right now. Now that’s enough of that. You hear me?

  23. RW says:

    Oops, wrong email. Here I am!

  24. Dick Carlson says:

    You can get better — lots of us have. We hear so much of ourselves in your story and we want to help you so much. Yes, psychotherapy (from a real psychiatrist) would be a very very good thing. And checking that thyroid. And checking about early menopause. (My wife went through that. Nobody believed her, actually diagnosed her as “hysterical”. Not kidding.)

    My life is very different now, thanks to some great therapy and some wonderful meds. It’s just like any other disease — if you had a blood disease, nobody would think there was anything wrong with you.

    Our society is still catching up with reality.

    I’m pretty blown away that you can write about this stuff. Now get busy and find a doctor that can help you.

  25. Britt's mom says:

    I love you baby. From way up here. And I thank God for Adam.

    Baby….

  26. I have no magical words of advice, b/c I’m pretty much clawing my way out of the same damn tunnel/pit. So clearly, I don’t have any answers.
    but fwiw, you’re not alone

  27. HUGE squishy bear hugs to you Britt! I am so sorry you’ve been feeling so down without a decent explination.

    I wish more than anything I could do something – ANYTHING – to help. But, please know that NO ONE is normal. Like Becky said, if they say they are, they’re lying.

    Life is fuckin’ hard. It’s never easy and no one can blame you for having a tough time. THAT’S LIFE. We’re all here for you and support you and LOVE you.

    I’m always here if you need anything. Please, let me know!

    Love you!

    And can I just say that despite his best efforts, Adam is one of the sweetest most kindest men ever. He’s truly an amazing person and you’re really lucky to have such a great friend there for you.
    Sam

  28. Britt, you are not broken. You are human. You’re having a tough time — a really tough time. I can’t even imagine the courage it took for you to write this. Your husband, your kids, your friends … you are a bright light in their lives. Don’t give up. You can get through this.

  29. Faiqa says:

    Life is incredibly hard, Britt. Everyone deals with the reality of this differently. My heart is going out to you as you struggle with your realities in your way. I cannot imagine that anyone with even an ounce of compassion might judge you negatively for this.

    Furthermore, please remember that love doesn’t get mad and go away. You are a blessing to the people that know you, even now, even like this.

  30. Dee says:

    I’m thinking of you and praying you get all the answers you need to what is happening. You’ve struggled so much and gained so much, I wish you had an easy time just for once. I really hope you can get some understanding on the root cause soon.

  31. I felt like this a few years ago. All the tests came back normal but I KNEW I was not right or behaving like me. It turned out I had cancer. Finally it was found. I am not trying to scare you, I debated even telling you this because I feel bad even writing it when it most likely isn’t what you are dealing with but my point here is not that you have cancer, because you most likely do not (repeated because I am not trying to scare you at all!) But if you KNOW something isn’t right with you, no matter what, please keep trying to figure it out. You just never know. I had doctors tell me I was too skinny, had too many kids and was just stressed out and any oher thing you can think of to dismiss my symptoms. I had cancer. If not for me knowing myself and knowing something was terribly wrong, I would be dead by now.

    I care about you a whole lot and I am thinking good thoughts for you to figure this out. If there is anything I can do to help, please please let me know! I mean this. Anything at all I can do I would do!

  32. Sybil Law says:

    Normal is just a word. I have times like that (really) and so does nearly everyone else I know. You’re not alone in feeling that way. Which doesn’t help to hear, but makes it.. less… lonely?!
    People love you for all the things you are – even this part.
    Just breathe….
    xoxoxoxoxo

  33. Maria says:

    No judgment here.

    You deserve to feel better, to be heard, and to be loved.

    Thinking about you.

  34. Robin says:

    Our antidotes (aka prescriptions) may be different, but our experiences are the same, my dear. You are SO not a failure.

    You’re in my thoughts. One foot in front of the other, remember? :) ::huge hugs::

  35. Robina says:

    Oh honey. I am so very sorry. I have had many experiences with depression and I’m bi-polar. I have no words that will help but I’m so sorry you are going through this.

    And about Adam talking to you and not your husband? I completely, 100% understand. It doesn’t matter than Adam is a man. He is a friend. And a wise one at that. Friends are so much easier to talk to than your spouse. Who wants their spouse to know how crazy and flawed they really are? Well, that’s I feel anyway, about me.

  36. Poppy says:

    This all sounds so normal to me. I know no other way of living than what you just described. I really think you’re depressed.

    But, if you find out there’s something else wrong with you that’s fixable-er, I’ll be very happy for you. :)

  37. I’m not sure anything I can say will help. But I did want to say that you helped me finally understand what my mom went through…or still goes through some days. Thank you for that. For sharing and doing it so well. You’re not judged and have lots of love around you.

  38. Elisa says:

    That sucks. I am so sorry you are going through this.

    I know standard blood tests won’t necessarily tell you anything. For instance copper overload, which can trigger menopause symptoms as well as depression-like symptoms, can only be found with hair mineral analysis. Like it, many thing, which are fairly simple to handle once you know what needs to be handled.

    If you know any *good* alternative practitioners I’d recommend you go to them. You can find someone near you at http://www.cra.org.

    It is so frustrating to know something is off and not be able to prove it, to pinpoint it, to handle it. But I’m sure it can be done, I have done it before.

    But hon, you need to let Jared in. It’s incredibly hard to share some thing with them, but you need support, and I don’t know him, but I’m fairly certain he need to feel like you trust him and want to let him in.

    I hope and pray you can come out of this soon! Best of luck and many hugs.

  39. Reading this makes me cry. I found myself in a pit last year and the quicksand would not let me crawl out. IT.WAS.AWFUL.

    My child would come home from school hungry because I couldn’t remember to pack her lunch and the food was too icky to eat. She never said a word because she just knew something wasn’t right with her mom.

    Doc gave me Cymbalta and I got worse within a couple of days. That’s when he told me he thought I was bi-polar. Denial. How can you get this? It’s not like a virus or something bacterial! Was is dormant in my head? It seems that these things can suddenly appear when you have significant stresses in your life.

    I’m glad you have Adam. My boss was my Adam. He’d just let me sit in a daze with my office door closed. Work was mediocre at best. Finally, the fog lifted and although I feel changed…I definitely feel good again.

    Big hugs for you.

  40. oh Britt, how I wish I could sit here and say that everything is going to be ok. How I wish I could make it all better, but I can’t. I know that crushing feeling, the feeling where just sitting up is too much work. How getting out of bed is impossible. How you’re just SO tired. Everything is too much. I know that. I’ve been there. I am there. But this I do know, and I want to remind you of this. We are here. Not only am I here to listen and to love, but so are many other people. You are so brave to have written this. You are amazing and brave and wonderful. You are precious and beautiful. Even when you forget, I’m here to remind you. I’m here to remind you that it’s ok to break down. I’m here to remind you that it’s ok to struggle and it’s ok to crash. I’m here to remind you that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and until you believe that for yourself, take comfort in the fact that I believe it and you can believe in my belief that everything will get better. I love you and I’m here if you ever need it. These aren’t empty words, just promises of love and friendship.

  41. Kim says:

    I’m sorry Britt. I wish I could help you.
    I don’t know what to say or do, just know you’re in my thoughts. This seems like the year from hell.

  42. ~jtm says:

    I’m sorry you’ve been feeling like this. Thankfully you have Adam, my husband hasn’t seen me have a breakdown either.

  43. S says:

    I am usually a lurker here but this post brought me out.
    I just want you to know that I have felt the same way you are right now. You are not alone. I am sure that with the right treatment you will feel better in a short amount of time.
    Hang in there Britt… (HUG)

  44. Finn says:

    I understand. And I’m here, OK? XO

  45. Stephanie says:

    Check your email when you have time, Britters.

  46. Bre says:

    I believe in you.
    And I’m fond of you and your family.

  47. Mr Lady says:

    OH, baby. God, I know.

    I’m here if you need me.

  48. usedtobeme says:

    Britt, first of all, you’re going to get through this. I won’t say don’t worry because we all worry, whether we want to or not.

    Second, no family is perfect. Not one single person out there can honestly say they had a perfect childhood or perfect parents or siblings or anything else and if they do they’re full of shit, so most importantly, you need to stop thinking that you aren’t living up to some perfect picture in your head.

    You doing the best you can is really ALL YOU CAN DO. The people who love you want nothing more than that from you.

    Finally, take a break from something and get some down time. Take it from me, working your ass off 70 hours a week and trying to be the good wife and mom and employee and person is tiring and hard and wears a person down. Get some rest and good luck.

  49. deannabanana says:

    I’m here Britt…just know that. Anytime, night or day.

  50. Stephanie says:

    I didn’t look at the comments to see if anyone else asked this: Have they checked your B12. Stupid as it sounds, it’s important. I am B12 anemic, and it’s called pernicious anemia. It causes the same symptoms you’re describing. When I got rock bottom low, I slept all the time, I was short of breath, I couldn’t do the simplest things, and I thought I was losing my mind. If they haven’t checked it, please ask them to. Normal is 200-110, and mine was 195. My doctor wouldn’t let me work for nearly a month while we got the numbers up. So sorry for taking over your blog in comments, but I hate for ANYONE to feel this way.

  51. Selma says:

    Stop feeling guilty. Depression is treatable. Sometimes it just takes a while to find the right treatment. Sometimes meds can work for a while and then suddenly stop.

    Your family and friends love you no matter what. I am sure none of them are casting judgement because you are depressed. I know they are all there for you.

    This is fixable. You’re going to be OK. I have to say that Adam really is a friend in a million. I have been where you are and it’s the friends who are there when you are down in the black pit of despair who really count.

    I’ll be thinking of you, hon. XXX

  52. Summer says:

    Brit, my heart hurts for you. I’ve been in your shoes and never want to be there again. Just remember it’s nothing you’re doing or not doing, it just happens and you can’t control it or talk yourself out of it. I know feeling like a crazy person is awful and I hope this passes soon. Have you done the whole therapy thing? It’s hard work but does help. Take care my dear.

  53. Stacey says:

    It’s so scary when there’s something wrong with you and you know it but your test results say “normal.” I hope that things get sorted out soon. It’s great that you have people around you that are looking out for you. Hang in there.

  54. whall says:

    Maybe it’s just your bank and your doctor.

    I haven’t filled out a deposit slip in 15+ years. I just walk up to the teller (who knows me by name) and give her the checks and we chat about the kids and the weather and swine flu as she scans them and does all the adding for me.

    I’ve not used an ID at the dr’s office in I don’t know how long. Or at the pharmacy.

    But this isn’t supposed to be about me. This is supposed to be about you.

    Hey you. Be more like me!

  55. Don says:

    Oh My Dear Miss Britt:

    There is very little I can add to all the heartfelt replies. For right now, be comforted by all the people who love you and care for you. Take time to rest and soak up all the love you can. It’s ok to be a slug until you feel better. When you’ve rested you can think about what to do next.

    There is a very engaging story in the gospel of Mark in chapter 10. Jesus is teaching a crowd of people and parents are bringing their children to him for a blessing. Jesus’ disciples try to turn them away but Jesus says No. Bring them. It goes on to say “Then he embraced them and blessed them, placing his hands on them.” Maybe you could imagine yourself to be one of those children feeling the gentle hands of Jesus on you and receiving his blessing and comfort.

    You are not alone.

    Don

  56. diesel says:

    Britt, I hope you get some help soon. You don’t need to feel guilty; anyone would be irritable under those circumstances. I know what it’s like to use 90% of your emotional energy just to not fall apart. It doesn’t leave much left for being nice to people.

  57. This is exactly me on a bad day.
    EX. ACT. LY.
    You’re so not alone in your frustrations in not having an answer. Sometimes that’s even more overwhelming, there’s nothing to point at or blame or worst of all, fix.
    I’ve got my chickens in a row for now and I’m more than happy to use my chickens to feed your poor little ailing soul until you can recover.
    We’ve all got your back baby.

  58. anne says:

    I have been there. Hoo-boy, have I been there.

    I’m not a diagnostician, only a fellow human and depression sufferer and one who has been repeatedly told my thyroid levels are FINE only to find later that they were not (and that I had many nodules on my thyroid, an undeniable sign that it wasn’t right). Be stubborn and tenacious and persistent and downright bitchy if you need to be to get to the bottom of this. YOU know your body better than any MD. If one tells you that nothing’s wrong, find another one.

    Keeping you in my prayers. I love how you write so beautifully of those dark nights of the soul. It will get better.

  59. Kellie says:

    I get it. I get every single thing you wrote here.

    It’s scary to read this and think “wow. Is she IN my brain?!”

    I’m sorry. I hate that you deal with this.

    And, no. NO ONE will read this and think your husband and children deserve better. They have the best. Don’t ever forget that.

  60. daniel says:

    I have no words of wisdom for you. Any encouragement I can offer would be hollow. Please simply accept my sympathy and understanding.

  61. I have forgotten more than most people will (thankfully) ever know about depression and believe me, please, when I tell you that this isn’t as insurmountable as it feels. Small, if any, consolation, I know.

    Here is my experience with Cymbalta: It works, great, right up until it doesn’t. Then it’s days lost to laying on the couch, only getting up to pee, forgetting to eat, hating, dreading, fearing any interaction with other people. Checking the mail? Forget it. Cooking? Cleaning? Feeling? Yeahright.

    Please consider talking to your Dr about changing scripts because, seriously, Cymbalta really and truly worked for me, right up until it didn’t and whoa-boy, when it didn’t, I was MUCH worse off than before.

    Just something to consider, please hang in there.

  62. Darla says:

    Britt, you are not broken. I’ve been there more times than I care to admit. But you are not broken. And you are worthy, very very worthy.

    {hugs}

  63. Melissa says:

    I am so with you on this one, girl! ((HUGS))

  64. Kim says:

    Delurking to let you know that I am praying for you to get better. I am not trying to diagnose but it sounds like early menopause. Keeping you in my thought! You will make it through this.

  65. Emily says:

    This post sounds so much like me. Ive been on so many antidepressants and none of them work. I get so aggrivated that eventually I just quit taking them. Cymbalta was my latest failure. There is a med that works for me….its like night and day. It gives me energy, no anxiety, out going and works instantly but the dr wont prescribe it because its rarely givin to people with depressin/anxiety disorders.

    I am going to see a psychotherapist this month so who knows. I just wish they would give me my wonder drug that has been known to help untreatable depression.

    Good luck!

  66. Jennifer says:

    I know it sounds lousy now but Britt you are going thru this so you can help someone else someone who isnt as strong as you,who doesnt have the support you have.You are gifted and you are a gift.Hold on baby.

  67. lainey says:

    hugs

  68. racheal says:

    i wrote a lot of things and deleted a lot of things then briefly considered not saying anything at all.

    i clicked out, then clicked back in. because i knew i had to say something.

    i’m sorry.

    i’m sorry it feels like your world is falling apart right now and it is so. hard. to. fucking. breathe.

    i’m sorry that everything seems so completely overwhelming and that there is no clear cut answer.

    but most of all, i’m sorry you’re hurting.

    the worst is that, all the comments, all the chatter, while we sympathize and try to understand, that we don’t. but if anything, if anything at all, i hope you know just how many people are out there wishing the best for you. hoping that you’ll find peace. praying that you’ll know just how special you are.

    we’re hurting with you britt, and while we may never completely get it, we’re hurting with you.

    you’re not alone in this.

    hugs.

  69. MariaV says:

    (((((Britt))))

    My test came back fine too. More tests are being run, but fatigue, thyroid, or early menopause are the early guesses.

    Hang in there.

  70. Kimberly says:

    I’m thinking of you, sweetie. Hang in there and lean on your loved ones. xoxo

  71. FC says:

    ((HUGS)) You’ll get the help you need, I know it.
    ~ FC

  72. Can I just tell you what amazing family and friends and BOSS you have? They are here for you every single step of the way, and they will NOT leave you to suffer and not get you back to your old self. You are going to be just fine, just like last time.

    Hugs to you my dear… you’re an amazing person, with an amazing heart. You inspire me with your writing, to open up your heart to all of us out here in blog-land, you write truthfully with your whole heart and you let us in. Thank you SO much for that, Seriously. :pph:

  73. SciFi Dad says:

    You give us 2400 words, and all I can come up with is “Wow, I’m sorry.”

    I don’t know what else to say. I hope you get your diagnosis soon. I know what it’s like watching someone you love suffer without knowing WHAT they are suffering from. I went through that with my mom for a long time.

  74. Sarah M. says:

    You’re probably more normal than you think you are. You’d be surprised that the number of people who appear “normal” but have just as many issues as the rest of us. I went on antidepressants a year ago for mild depression so I have an idea what you’re going through (if that’s what it is at least). Funny thing is, my mom, who was the one who told me I needed help, had been on them for 28 years & never told me!! Thanks for sharing, Mom! My point is that you’re not alone. We’re here & your family & friends are all here. Hang in there!!

  75. NaysWay says:

    I can totally relate to what you’re saying and how you’re feeling. In reading the comments, I’m glad that those who love and support you are telling you. You could truly be going through this alone, and you may feel like you are despite the support. I don’t have encouraging words, but just want you to know you’re not alone.

  76. ali says:

    i wish i had something more encouraging to say other than I love the hell out of you, miss. HUGS.

  77. I’m so sorry you’re hurting, babe. I’m thinking about you. (And I’m so grateful you have Adam.)

  78. Becca says:

    Britt, I have been reading your site for almost a year. I love you. Yes, I am sure all the ‘normal’ people out there read your sight. The rest of us effed up people also read your site, and we need to see people like you so that we can see that we are not totally lost. You will make it through this, and so will the rest of us who are so very, very ‘tired’ all the time. Thank you for your honesty.

  79. sue says:

    I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’ve been there, and my daughter is still struggling with her own demons. Only good thoughts coming your way. There is light at the end…

  80. Jed says:

    You shouldn’t have to wait until you get a new insurance card before you go back to the clinic. As long as your insurance is with one of the major carriers (blue cross, blue shield, cigna, united healthcare, etc.)they should be able to look you up with just your name and DOB.
    Good luck.

  81. Foo says:

    Knowing something is wrong and not being able to get answers is such an overwhelming feeling. I’m thinking about you and hoping that the doctors figure out something that works and that you start feeling like “you” again. Hugs…and yes, Hilly brings out the smile and laugh in all of us. Love her for that and glad you have such an amazing friendship with Adam. You get back what you put out and you are a great friend to everyone. No worries there.

  82. Bubblewench says:

    I’m SO glad Adam is your friend. You really needed it more then you realize.

    I have been there. Am currently going through this as well. Its hard to let others see you as weak, when all you want to do is be strong.

    You will get there. So will I. It just takes more time then we want to give it.

    I really hope you have a good doctor that is going to help you on this tough road.

  83. Aw Britt, my heart aches for you. Thoughts and prayers to you. Try ot to be too hard on yourself hon.
    ps I knew it…. Adam is a big softie!

  84. Kristin says:

    Hey, you know the part where you said it didn’t make sense? Here’s what I know. For people that have never teetered on the edge of Crazy, it doesn’t make sense. But if you’ve ever been there, you get it. You get how crazy people act – because you were “this” close to being there fully. People who haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing Crazy just don’t get it.

    I did Lexapro and then dropped it. After baby #3, I was back on Lexapro and thought things were great, so I dropped it. And guess what? I wasn’t okay. Now I’m a certified Prozac Girl and proud of it. Because when you lose control of how your brain functions (like those god awful thoughts that normally you can shove aside), Prozac is literally a life saver.

    I haven’t read all the other 84 support notes above me, but I’ve been told that some drugs don’t work for some people. And they do need some time to rearrange the stuff in your brain, so patience is unfortunately necessary.

    And I can totally understand trying to explain to your husband outloud what is going on in your head. Mine looked at me like I was an alien when I tried to explain that the baby was asleep and therefore, I thought I might drive to Dallas and not come back. The person you depend on most, thinking you’re, um, nuts? Too much.

    I get it.

  85. Rick says:

    Anxiety bordering on panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop, scared shitless of nothing in particular. Been there, hate it. Wellbutrin AND Zoloft are my temporary solutions. Let me know when you find a permanent one.

  86. I’m not trying to make light of this situation in any way, shape or form because God knows how many of us have struggled through the same damn thing. (For my cousin, like many others, it was her thyroid.)

    But….could I possibly be the only one thinking back to the Golden Girls episode where Dorothy knows something is wrong but her doctor keeps blowing her off. She advocates for herself though and keeps going to doctors until someone can tell her what’s wrong. (It would up being chronic fatigue syndrome.)

    I’m saying this because I wanted to remind you to keep advocating for yourself. Just like when you know there is something wrong with your kid and the doctors don’t listen, you know when something is wrong with you. Only you know your body personally. Only you know how you feel. Don’t let any of those doctors try to convince you that it’s all in your head until you’ve exhausted all options.

    P.S. What Becky Said.

    xoxo

  87. perpstu says:

    Oh…*hugs* just breathe and be grateful for the legion of support you so obviously have around you. Depression isn’t something to be ashamed or guilty about. It’s something to be treated. You WILL get better, that fog will lift and you will be ok. Just hang on…..

  88. kim says:

    I hope you are doing better.

    I wanted to add yet another possiblity…don’t ya hate it when the internets give you advice? But from my own personal experience, as well as watching many of the clients I work with, if you have run out of the med (which I am sort of guessing since you are calling the dr at home) the withdrawal effects from some anti depressants are horrendous. Like make you think that you are dying horrendous, or wish that you were so that it would just be over.
    I really hope you figure out what is going on, because you should not have to feel like this.

  89. LM says:

    This is the first time I’ve read your site. I found it through a link on casadekaloi.
    Normally, I don’t leave comments but this entry merits it.

    My mother had/has depression. It went undiagnosed for years. As a child, I remember being scared and confused about her outbursts etc. Eventually, she was diagnosed and put on med. She told us what was wrong with her and I’ve never really understood what she might have been feeling (and even still now struggles with though on meds); I’ve never really understood until I read this. You’ve put it in a way I can understand. I imagine my mother felt some of what your described above.

    I hope you will be diagnosed quickly and that they can help fix whatever it is.
    Don’t give up. Though my memories of my mother include some horrible things, the knowledge that she has never given up eclipses all that.

  90. amanda says:

    i hate the depressed, anxious, detached feeling. its scary. it sucks.

    but it really does pass. i know sometimes that’s all you need to hear. and believe it. it passes and it gets better. and you’re not crazy.

    let me tell you how many times i’ve needed to hear those words..

    you’re not crazy.. you aren’t GOING crazy..

    best of luck Britt <3

  91. Oh, darlin’. I’m so very sorry that life and health and everything has crashed down on you. I remember going through a period of my life in 1998, after my father’s death, when I couldn’t stay awake during the day. After 10 hours of sleep at night, I would fall asleep at my desk.

    So, I went to my doctor to get tested for my thyroid (just like you) and my doctor looked at the results and said, “Maybe you should cut down on your sugar.”

    That was it. No explanation, no nothing. Showed me the door and he was done.

    Four years later, after trying for a year to get pregnant, I found out I’m insulin resistant, one step away from type 2 diabetes, and therefore a victim of PCOS.

    It’s there, hon. Something is there. You’ll find it. Just keep at it and don’t give up and remember your friends who will hold you up while you look.

  92. Your last paragraphs made me tear up because I have sooo been there before too. I know that you feel like a stranger to yourself – and the fear that comes with that. I know that you feel like you have no light inside your chest and that your head is full of cotton balls, and that it feels like sometimes you are looking at the world like you are just below the surface of the pool – you can hear the fuzzy sounds and kind of make out the images and you know that you should break through the surface but have no desire to – except for the kids. I know. I know.

  93. TMWW says:

    Britt, I don’t know what is wrong, but you WILL find out what it is and get whatever it is fixed. I’m sure of that. Just take life one day at a time and breathe. Do what you can and when you can’t do anymore, just don’t. Your children need you, Jared needs you.

    Sending warm hugs to you from Virginia…

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