Effexor, Self Awareness, and Maturity saved my life

I’m going to write the post of my heart.  The post of Naomi. The post of weakness.   Because if there is one thing that I know in my heart I should do, it is speak these words.  I would much rather keep this  part hidden, but to not talk about it brings shame to something that should be shameless.  Before you read on… if you don’t know the story of Alexander’s birth in May of 2010, please read this post FIRST.  And if you continue to read – please read until the end.


This past year has been one filled with fears.  Fears for my family, fears for my son, and fears for others.  Because I have seen a glimpse into the hell that is depression.  I’m not talking about feeling a little blue.  I’m not talking about having a bad day.  I’m talking about the life-is-over-darkness – depression.  The truth is, Effexor, Self Awareness, and Maturity saved my life.  (God… is – as always – present.) But this post isn’t going to focus on that part of my journey.  Many God loving people experience depression.  And. No. One. Talks. About. It.

Do you want to know what it feels like?

Imagine the most heartbreaking moment you can remember.  Picture yourself crying that ugly cry.  Remember the clutching of your heart as fingers squeeze it until your chest hurts.  You can’t breathe.  Every breath is labored and you struggle just to exist.  Your head hurts as you replay hurtful words, broken dreams, actions that cannot be undone, and the what – if’s that won’t go away.  And there is no relief.  None. You blink your eyes… still all that pain. You fall asleep… still all that pain.  Each day, each moment.. you beg for mercy… and … still all that pain.

I prayed. And… honestly, there was no relief.  I really believe that was so I could write this post.  So that one year later – I could stand proud and tell others what it looks and feels like.

I have always liked to nap.  I love to nap in the living room, with the sun beating down on my face.  Last summer, I slept almost all the time in the darkness of my room.  I pulled all the blinds.  I turned off all the lights.  I slept all the time… In the darkness that mirrored my heart.

I did not return phone calls.  I didn’t talk to people.  In fact – Ray and I sent out an e-mail specifically asking people not to contact us.  He has always been a private person, but I have always been an open and public person.  Many of my closest friends sent me congratulations on the birth of “Nicholas” because they thought that was going to be his name.  I couldn’t even tell people his name.  I just didn’t have the energy to speak to anyone.

I know I have alluded to it in the past… but I really did not do anything to provide for my family during this time.  I did not cook, clean, do laundry, tuck my children in, cuddle them, give them a bath, play with them, … I didn’t even eat supper with my family.  And it’s not because no one noticed.  Ray did everything possible to get me to at least eat.  I couldn’t.

I was once asked by a doctor’s office if I thought about taking my own life.  My automatic answer was, “No.”  My mental response was, “How could I leave Ray to deal with our life alone?”  The doctor was satisfied because of my automatic “no.”  He couldn’t read my thoughts.  I could have walked out of that office and he would have been satisfied.  But you and I know my mental thoughts were not appropriate.  If I really was so far from stepping off that cliff into oblivion – I would have thought, “No! I have too much to live for.” 

Maturity and self awareness saved my life. I asked that doctor for help.  I told that doctor that I needed something to help me battle the darkness. 

If I would not have known the signs of depression AND been mature enough to know I was “faking” normalcy – I might not have been able to write this post.

So why share it?  Why write this?  Why expose something so personal?  Because I worry about other people.  Especially today’s youth.  I feel like most of you are thinking, “well, she gave birth to her son; she heard he was not going to survive or have any quality of life. She battled this tough road… no wonder she was depressed.”  And that might be true. But what about all of those other people who experience depression just because they experience it?  What if no one notices?  What if that person can’t ask for help? What if they don’t recognize the signs or aren’t mature enough to stop lying. To others or themselves.  How can my experience be used in a positive way? 

I am not ashamed to say that an anti-depressant saved my life.  Does it make me less of a person? Does it make me weak?  Did it make me a Naomi?  Maybe.  Does owning it – Out. Loud. – make me a Ruth? I think so. 

I always wanted to be a Ruth.


I decided to publish this post today because…
1. I just needed to get it out.
2. I have a lot to do tomorrow…
3.  I would like to reach as many people as possible with this post, so I linked up with Pour Your Hear Out Wednesday.