You Don't Have To Suffer In Silence

Why can't people understand that your mental health is just as important as your physical health? I was diagnosed with depression about ten years ago but I know that I had been struggling with it since I was in junior high. People think that if you have a "good life," there's no way you can have depression. My ex husband was one of those people. He'd always tell me that I had no reason to be depressed.

Growing up, I was bullied quite a bit. My school was full of two faced people. When you'd look at them, they'd smile and act sweet but as soon as you turned around, they were talking about you or making fun of you. Most people made fun of me for being overweight and for having a really embarrassing obsession with the Jonas Brothers. I remember one day in junior high like it happened yesterday. I was in the seventh grade athletics. I know I wasn't really any good at any of the sports but hey, I gave it a shot. One afternoon during practice, I had gone to the restroom and I saw that someone wrote something about me on the wall. It had a really crappy ass picture of a cow and had the words "Amber Rod is a fat cow" written above it. I was really hurt. Yes I knew I was overweight and not really liked by a lot of people but did someone dislike me that much that they had to go and write something like that about me? I remember crying and telling my coach about it but I don't think anything had been done about it. She just got alcohol and rubbed it off the best she could. I know that even though she tried to get it off of the wall, it was still faintly there.

I remember in junior high and having the "Worth the Wait" talk. Of course they talk a lot about your body and going through puberty and all that jazz but I remember they were going over scenarios about sexual abuse. I think there had been a scenario about a girl getting raped by someone she knew but there was another scenario that hit a little too close to home for me. The scenario talked about a girl that would be watched by her grandfather when her mother went to work and how he would touch and molest her every time her mother wasn't around. I remember feeling a huge ball of emotions the moment it clicked for me. My grandfather started molesting me around the time I was nine years old or so. Before this scenario, I didn't know that there was a word for what he was doing to me. I knew that it was wrong and I didn't want to tell my mom what was happening. I don't know why I didn't want to tell her. My mother and I have always had a really close relationship and I knew she would believe me. I think I was just guarding her from the heartbreak that her own father would do this to her baby girl. I have a lot of family and I didn't want to start a big family fight over this. I just wanted it all of the abuse to stop. I was terrified of my grandfather. He was getting old and was in a wheelchair at the time but that never stopped him. I know I could have easily gotten away but you don't know what to do when you're that young. I think this is when my childhood depression really started. It's hard keeping something so important from your parents. After the Worth the Wait talk, I really wanted to tell my mom because now I knew for a fact that what he was doing was wrong. I was in a constant battle with myself over this. I never wanted to go to my grandparents house because I was so scared of it happening again. I was scared because I knew he would do it again and I didn't like the awful thoughts that I was left with after he would abuse me. I didn't want to be around my abuser. The fear I was living in died right along with my grandpa my seventh grade year. I felt so relieved. I told myself that I was never going to tell my mom what happened. There was no reason to anymore because he was gone. The abuse was over.

Junior high was so long ago and I can't really remember a lot. I just remember being in a constant battle with myself and dealing with the abuse. I had a really good friend, Yoly, by my side. Yoly is no longer with us and I wish I could have told her how much her friendship meant to me and how I don't think I could have made it out of junior high without her.

Now let's talk about high school. My freshman year was probably one of my favorite years. I had a lot of friends that were with me in band and drama club. I was insanely boy crazy. Heck, I still am. That year I met the most amazing person on this planet. She was a foreign exchange student from Switzerland. Robine and I were instant best friends. We did everything together. I felt like I finally had my person! Having here there made life a lot easier. We would have sleepovers and talk about boys and the Jonas Brothers. These were some of the nights that I wouldn't cry myself to sleep. I remember countless nights where I couldn't sleep. I was either having nightmares about my grandpa and the abuse or I was just worried about nothing.

My freshman year was also the year that my mom found out about my abuse. One day, I just needed to tell someone. Anyone. I'm going to change the name of the person I told for anonymity purposes. We'll call him Jordan. Jordan and I were in Spanish class one afternoon and we were passing notes back and forth to one another. I can't remember what led me to tell him about what my grandfather did. I remember writing it out and being extremely nervous but I felt so much relief when I told him. It was no longer bottled up inside me. Jordan was extremely supportive and believed me because he had been abused by a family friend. I felt so bad that he had gone through the same thing. Like me, he hadn't told anyone and had it bottled up inside. I don't remember much more of what was written on those notes passed between the two of us. I folded up the notes and kept them in my pocket until I could get home and throw them away. I remember being in my room when I got a knock at the door. It was my dad and he was holding mine and Jordan's note. I grabbed it out of his hands and threw it in the trash and started crying. He asked me who's note it was and I tried denying that it was mine. I knew that he knew. I was bawling and telling him not to tell my mom. I didn't want her to know. The rest of what happened was fuzzy but I remember my mom crying and her holding me and apologizing that she couldn't protect me. I felt so awful. She didn't need to apologize, it wasn't her fault at all. How could she possibly know that something was going on? I guess I hid it all pretty well.

The rest of high school is a blur to me. I had good moments with friends but I was ready to leave. I was ready to go on to college and make something of myself. In all honesty, I was ready to meet the love of my life. I had high hopes that I was going to meet the man of my dreams on campus. This was the same college my parents had attended and I thought it would have been perfect if I met my future husband there too.

The first few weeks of the semester went pretty well. I know that I had been dealing with some thoughts of loneliness but it was pretty manageable. It wasn't until I met the guy I lost my virginity to that everything just kind of came to a head. I felt so worthless when he decided that I wasn't the one for him. He wanted to be with a different girl and I couldn't help but compare myself to her. After all of this happened, I didn't want to go to class anymore. When I did, my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't stay focused. Most days I'd skip class to sleep. I slept most of my days away. I can't remember what happened that my mom decided I needed to go to the doctor. She was seeing the signs and knew that I was dealing with depression. I remember nights just wishing and praying I wouldn't wake up. The nurse practitioner diagnosed me with depression and put me on medication. It was a low dosage but it was something that I needed to try. I knew that it was going to take several weeks before I felt any better. I'd like to point out that being medicated doesn't make you "happy." It's just to help you feel normal. After a few weeks, I was still feeling so empty inside and wanting to die. I went back to the doctor and got my dosage upped. Finally I was feeling somewhat better.

I'm sure most of you have read about Jacob and how fast we got pregnant with our first daughter. When I went to the doctor to get my pregnancy confirmed, I was pulled off of the medication since it wasn't safe to use with pregnancy. With all the hormones while being pregnant, I was actually doing fine. I was able to make it through my pregnancy without my depression being unbearable. I tried breastfeeding her but I wasn't able to produce any milk so I gave up and once I did, I started back on my medication. Eight months later, I was pulled off again because we were pregnant with our second. My second pregnancy was pretty difficult. I was dealing with emotional abuse from my husband and just didn't feel as great as I did the first time. After giving birth, they immediately gave depression medication. It wasn't the same one I had been on but it was one that would be safe for me to use while trying to breast feed. The medication wasn't for me. I remember one of the first weeks of being a mom of two. I was extremely overwhelmed. The baby wouldn't stop crying. She was waking up so often and I couldn't produce enough to keep her satisfied. I'd feed her bottles and she'd either throw it all up or she was extremely constipated. I didn't know how to keep her content. Along with the feeding problems with the baby, I was still trying to be the best mommy to my oldest. I had to give them both my attention because I was living at my parents house while Jacob was working out of town. I couldn't do it on my own. I had my parents there but I wanted to do things on my own. I remember having one of the worst anxiety attacks. I think it was actually the very first time I had one. I remember feeling panic like I couldn't do it anymore. I was crying along with the baby so frustrated and feeling hopeless. That's when I made the decision to go back to my old medication. Breastfeeding and being on the other depression pill wasn't worth it.

Things had gotten the slightest bit better once I got on my medication again but I still wasn't feeling like I was the best version of myself. I was having a lot of flashbacks to when my grandpa would abuse me. I would start freaking out in the middle of having sex with my husband. I had a lot of issues with being intimate. I was also dealing with emotional abuse from my husband and it wasn't helping the issue one bit. Anxiety attacks had become a normal thing for me at this point. I also believe part of the problem was that we never had money to go and get my medication. I was either having to skip a pill every other day or I'd just have to go without it until he got paid again. I went back to the doctor and she doubled the dosage I was on. She told me from the results that I had both severe depression and severe anxiety. The bigger dose did help me but I think what kept bringing me back down was the fact that I was constantly dealing with Jacob's abuse. Even though I had these two beautiful babies, I was still having the thoughts of suicide.

After I left Jacob, the anxiety attacks just about ceased completely. I still do have some days where I feel low and worthless. Most of the time it's because I forgot to refill my medication and had to go a few days without it.

I do have a few friends that I'm completely open with about how I'm feeling. I go back and look at the things I say about myself and I see that it's truly not at all how I feel. I see that when I'm not on my medication, I'm not myself. My inner demons want me to think that I'm completely worthless and can't be brought out of my dark hole. These thoughts aren't me! If you feel like this, please know that they aren't you either! You aren't yourself when these episodes are in play.

I'm a huge advocate for mental health and getting help. Yes, I'm on medication but I feel like I do need something more. I'm going to try out therapy when I get a little extra money after the holidays. I'm striving to better myself and fight off the depression. I want to know how I can handle it.

I'm so thankful to the friends that I have that will listen to me. I know I sound like a broken record and negative but I want to thank you for always denying the things I say and being so supportive.

Don't suffer in silence like I did for so long. Get help. Talk to your doctor and see what options might be best for you. I'm here for you.