Women...we are made in a special way. Passion, love, anger, laughter, etc all wrapped into a pretty "package". The weaker sex...are not so weak! We may not lift cars over our heads but strength comes with many disguises. Most days of the month I would tell you I am proud I was made a woman. I'd tell you that we get the better role because we get to carry babies and go shopping for nice things (of course those are not of equal value to me). With the former comes a down side...one we can ungratefully thank Eve...PMS and "Aunt Flo"! I feel that the older I get the more uncontrollable these premenstrual symptoms get. So out of control that last month I was diagnosed with PMDD or Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder and prescribed Prozac. PMDD is basically symptoms of PMS only much much stronger. I described a span of about 5 days when I felt totally out of control over my emotions. I couldn't sleep and my body was tight with tension. When I woke up on the 6th day it was like I had slept for 24 hours. I felt lighter, enthusiastic, and happy. A total turn around.
A few times I have been "offered" medication for depression. In the years after my marriage but before I began my healing process I confessed to my husband that I thought I was depressed. After beginning the healing process I became determined to handle things on my own. I admired people who didn't have a "hang up" about medicating themselves...or didn't let it bother them. I couldn't admit my weakness was sometimes more that I could handle. This is a touchy subject especially in the church. I have heard interviews and read articles saying taking medication is ripping away trust in God and believing in God's healing power. I have to admit, I believed that to a point. I believe that many people suffering from psychiatric problems were once victims as children. I am no doctor so I can only speak from my own experience. I was functional as long as I was at home. Once I moved out the skills I'd used to survive my mother were no longer valid. I was lost. Actually, the word "lost" doesn't seem to weigh enough to cover what I was going through. I had absolutely no social skills. I was suspicious of everyone. I couldn't fit in anywhere. I might get close to someone but I would run away in fear. I was so awkward and weird. Not being able to fit in took a toll on my already minimal self esteem. Meanwhile I was trying to function on the outside with the leftovers of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse on the inside. I often couldn't contain my pain and resorted to cutting myself to get some kind of relief. I stopped after another girl was caught cutting herself. Her parents were called and everyone knew what she had done. My mind filled with the things that would happen to me if my mother found out I was doing the same. I cried myself to sleep most nights...even into my marriage. I was in a constant state of anger or rage. I rarely laughed or smiled. I fought with my husband constantly. Things had to be my way or no way. If something went wrong I lost my mind! I'd retreat and become reclusive. I certainly couldn't concentrate or perform in college and of course my grades suffered. As I have said before, I felt like the Antichrist. I am serious! I really felt like I was going to fulfill the role of the Antichrist...I felt evil. All of this lead me to feel like I was fooling everyone. No one knew how truly bad I was. It was only a matter of time. I literally felt that at some point in my life I would end up in a psychiatric hospital...no lie! I would hold it together as long as I possibly could but it would all end in psychosis! I just had to hide it as long as possible.
I do believe that God can heal in an instant. I have begged Him for healing hundreds of times but it has never come in an instant. I was begging God for the easy way out. If God had given me the easy way out I would no doubt find myself in trouble again lacking the wisdom I would have learned from overcoming the past. Like a good parent, God wanted what was best for me now so I can thrive in the future. I have been in this journey for 6 years now. I have come a long long way in 6 years but as most of us know this is a life long process. Scars fade but they never really disappear. I will fight this until I die...but that is okay. I wonder if my next battle is again with the emotional scars. I have never taken up the offers for depression medication. I think it was fear that kept me away from the help they might offer. I was afraid of addiction...I was afraid of not being myself...I was afraid my husband would love the wife on medication more than the wife I really was. Who could blame him?
Then, a few months ago, I was overcome with the symptoms I described above. I thank the Lord I never got physical with my kids, but I raised my voice (okay, I YELLED a lot!). I wasn't able to enjoy them or anything really. I found myself in tears at not being in control over my own emotions...my own body. I never wanted to take medication. I never wanted to admit it had all become to much to bare. I know the things that were done to me so I know that it is in me to do the same to my children. That I CANNOT bare. It takes a lot out of me to admit I can't control "it" on my own. I look 20 years down the road. What will matter more; that my children are happy and functioning adults or that I had to take a few pills every month to help things not get out of hand? Ugh, it is a daily choice sometimes. If I know that I am feeling the "symptoms" do I choose something I think shows weakness in me (a pill) or do I forsake all stigma and choose my children over it all? I choose my children. I will always ultimately choose my children.
No comments:
Post a Comment