Morose. Part 3

Part 1
Part 2

I woke up the next morning and I felt bad. However, I had also just gotten my period so I just figured that was the issue. I was bleeding kind of heavily all that day so I just let myself feel miserable.

That was Wednesday. Thursday I felt better physically, but mentally I still felt down. I made it through work and decided not to go to the barn, thinking that if I spent some time with the girls and Craig that I'd feel better. No dice. I sat on the couch and didn't want to do anything. I forced myself to eat dinner and play with the girls a little bit, but I really had no interest in it. Craig knew something was up and asked me what was wrong. I told him that I didn't want to do anything, and that I was a little blue. He asked what he could do to help and I said nothing, since I didn't know where this was all coming from.

The next morning I had the day off because I worked that weekend. Usually on my days off I go to the barn first thing in the morning and take my time riding and fussing over the boys. But I didn't even want to get out of bed. Again I forced myself to get dressed and went out to the barn. Even though I wore my breeches I couldn't bring myself to ride. I groomed both horses and went home. I took a nap, then got myself out of bed to go get the girls. Again I forced myself to eat dinner. Craig was getting concerned, and asked me how Kaswyn was. I told him that I didn't ride, and he asked why, probably thinking that my horse was lame again. When I told him that I didn't want to, he started to get worried. Then he said "You aren't having suicidal thoughts or anything, are you?"

Actually I was. I remember sitting on the couch while the girls played and watched tv, and I was thinking about the different ways to kill myself. I wanted a way that wouldn't hurt (because I'm a wussy), and something where none of my family would find me. Then I thought maybe I'll just get in the car and drive and never come back. Maybe I could crash my car really hard into something. It was not good.

So when I answered Craig with a "Well...um.." he said "Listen, if the answer to that question isn't immediately 'No' then we need to do something." I assured him that I wasn't going to do anything stupid and that I'd let him know if I needed anything.

The next day after work I came home and went to bed again. We had a Halloween party to go to that night and I didn't want to go at all. It was also the night for Trick or Treating and I didn't want to do that with the girls either. Again I forced myself to go out and do my normal activities. I knew it would be way too easy to go to bed and stay there.

The girls had fun Trick or Treating and the party was okay, but I still was not myself. Sunday showed no improvement. Craig was very concerned now, and when I went to work on Monday he was calling or texting me every half hour. Monday was the worst day. I was in the lab alone and I had work to do, and I remember thinking that I just couldn't handle being there. It was all just too much and I needed to go. Anywhere. I just needed out. Out of me, out of my head, out.

But the thought of going to my boss and saying I needed to go made me upset. I know she would be okay with it because I was certain that if I asked to leave that I would start crying and she would let me go without too much of an explanation. But I didn't want to do that. I didn't need all that drama and having to explain what had happened the next time I got to work. I was trapped.

At that moment I broke down. I put the embryos away, sat down and just cried. Luckily nobody walked in, because I think I cried for like ten minutes. When I was all done I actually felt a little bit better. I called Craig to tell him and I think what I had to say scared him almost as much as the suicide thing. He said "Something is certainly amiss if you are crying at work during the day for no reason." I assured him that I would be fine that day, and I had an appointment with my therapist the next day. I made it through the day but didn't go out to the barn. Again.

Tuesday morning I actually felt a bit better. Work was fine, and there was no more crying. Then I went to my appointment and told my therapist all about my issues. He was shocked, saying that most people get more agitated after EMDR, and not depressed. Then he asked how I was doing with the anxiety of the girls vomiting and I said "To tell you the truth, I actually really don't care about much right now, so I'm pretty apathetic about that too." He said that was probably the only good thing to come of the depressive episode, and it would be very convenient if one of the girls would get sick soon while I was still apathetic. That did not happen.

We did not do another EMDR session for fear that was the reason for my depression. He did say that I should contact him immediately if I have more suicidal thoughts, and if I couldn't get a hold of him that I should go to the emergency room. I already had another appointment set for the next week, and hopefully I would feel better by then.

After my appointment I did start to feel better. Craig was a bit annoyed that my doc didn't actually do anything, and when I asked what he expected him to do Craig said "Well, something more than 'Feel better and don't kill yourself before the next appointment.' would be nice."

I started to feel a little bit better every day until I was back to normal. I've had other sessions with my therapist, who said that he wouldn't call what I had clinical depression because it didn't last the required duration (like three months or something). I can't imagine feeling that way every day for a long period of time. Mine was only like two weeks and that was long enough.

I've also had another EMDR session and it was very very helpful. I'm still having issues, like the other night when Macey said her tummy hurt right before bed. I spent the next few hours tense and anxious in bed instead of falling asleep. But I'm hopeful that I'll get over this stupid vomit phobia. I know that I did it to myself. In my mind I connected vomiting with seizures and convinced myself that vomiting is a bad thing. But I know that neither the vomiting nor the seizures is a bad thing (well, they both kind of suck..). The bad thing is me panicking, and I have control over that. I made the connection and I can break it. It will not break me.