It's Not Just a Title

I've made myself an appointment.
I don't talk about it much on here other than an occasional brief mention, but I suffer from panic and anxiety disorder and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I've done very well with it over the years, and have worked it into my life seamlessly. If you don't know me very well, you'd never guess. I've also learned to recognize when I need to get some help, and this is one of those times!
I haven't taken any medication since I was pregnant with Aidan (and was very scarily depressed), and I've done well. But since I had Liam, I've been feeling myself slowly slide down that muddy slope of anxiety and panic, and I'm headed for that pit of depression that's so hard to crawl out of. My OCD has taken over my days; I obsess over being sick and maybe getting sick and my family getting sick. I mean, it rules my thoughts. The last couple of months of illness hasn't helped. But we've recovered! And I still feel awful. My mental state is translating into physical symptoms...or is it? I don't know what's real and what's not when physical ailments show up, now.
Everything sends me into a panic. Liam's been waking up at 4:30am every morning for about two weeks now, and I nearly cry with worry every time. That "this is never going to get better" feeling has gone from a whisper to a roar, and it's time to get me some good drugs to drown it out.
I'm not sure if it's PPD (I had it with Caleb and it was different) or just a combination of things, but I'm ready to feel better.
I used to be ashamed of these issues. I watched my Dad suffer as I was growing up, and watched my brother struggle for years before he came to grips with his issues. I saw how people reacted when I tried to explain what was wrong, and I see that look on people's faces when I talk about my anxiety. I get that...I mean, it doesn't make sense. I am so lucky...I have so much. Why let my days be filled with worry? Why be controlled by fear when I could be taking advantage of this time I have with my kids before I go back to work? I mean, it's so stupid to be so phobic about throwing up that every meal is a struggle. It's illogical! Why burst into tears every day because I'm so AFRAID...of what? I don't know...that I feel like I'm pulling apart at the seams? Some would say I'm selfish (though probably only those who haven't dealt with mental illness in some way). Some would say I'm just making bad decisions. Some would say it's no big deal and that I should just ignore it. Suck it up.
I know all that. I'm a pretty smart chick. But here's the thing (and this is THE thing that's made me able to accept my problems and get on with my life): I CAN'T HELP IT.
It's not me! It just...is. And I can't apologize for it.
So when I first admitted I had problems, I was sure life as I knew it was over.
But you know what?
It wasn't. Now, I accept my chemical imbalance and I deal with it however I have to to be able to live my life. I talk about it openly, and I recognize when I need help. And when I do, I get it fast.
So, it's a bump in the road. I can say that I feel hopeful because I have that appointment a week from today. And things will get better.
Until things get better, though, I may get the urge to write about it here.
You've been warned!

ps: Happy Birthday to my little brother Jeff, who inspires me every day to be a good person. Jeff, I hope you know how much Jim and I love you and appreciate you, and how adored you are by Caleb, Aidan and Liam. I'm so proud of all you've accomplished, and of all that you aspire to be.