Happiness is not achieved by the conscious pursuit of happiness; it is generally the by-product of other activities.
- Aldous Huxley

Google “IUD Depression”

So Joy told me, and so I did. And damn. Just…DAMN. I screwed up, folks. When da Man told me that the Mirena is low dose ONLY delivered locally, I believed it. I didn’t do my due dilligence. Again…I fucked up.

What?

Oh, right. May 19th — I had a Mirena IUD fitted. I loved the idea of short or no periods — and since the hormones stay “local,” I wasn’t concerned about the side effects that I know MY body gives me from hormonal B/C. Within one week, I started having weird, dark thoughts and anxiety. 11 days after getting the Mirena, I had a full-blown anxiety episode. Yes, what I found were primarily anecdotes, but they sounded exactly like what I was experiencing. I read all weekend, and finally found one document from the Canadian division of Bayer that suggested that Mirena might be a bad idea for people who’ve experienced “psychiatric episodes, especially those of a depressive nature” — to a point where the Mirena may need to be removed.

Well, well, well. Document from Bayer in hand, I went to my 2-week check-up, and requested (okay, insisted) that the thing be removed. My NP had never experienced this side effect before, and was glad I’d brought documentation. She said she’d bring this up at the next staff meeting — so that even if my side effects were rare (I was the first she’d seen), at least they’d know they’re in the universe of possibility.

Within a few days I started to feel better. At about a week, I darned near felt normal again, I thought. At 10 days, I wanted to shoot myself.

I’d been warned. Along with all the anecdotal hoo-hah about Mirena side effects were horror stories of the “Mirena Crash” — this low, low point that could occur 1-1/2 to 2 weeks post removal, in the time between the loss of the synthetic progesterone’s loss and the body’s notice to start producing on its own. Yet, still, I had (have) no idea how long this crash might last. And what if this isn’t a crash, but the hormonal changes started an avalanche of symptoms that now can’t be stopped? What if I spent a year hating mornings and wanting to strange my 3-year-old? Or ready to punch a wall when the baby just. wouldn’t. sleep?

I broached it to Mike. In reality, I wept and sobbed to Mike, making a sad, sad case that “I know I’ll be fine. I know what it is, so I can push through it.” Somehow, hearing that along with the idea that I thought my kids deserved more (and that was the brightest, sunniest of my dark thoughts), didn’t convince him. “Please,” he said. “Please go see the doctor tomorrow. Go before I leave for D.C.”

And I did. And I wonder why I waited so long. You have no idea how bad you feel until you just don’t feel bad anymore. Heck, I might even say, I FEEL GOOD.

Effexor is a real bitch to discontinue. But she’s MY bitch again. And I’m glad. At least this time, when the time comes, I know what to expect: that it will take months of slowly ramping down and a switch to other drugs before Ms. E lets me be.

But you know what? It’s still worth it. Already, I’m more myself. Cliches and all.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

One of today’s quote’s from iGoogle:

Happiness is always a by-product. It is probably a matter of temperament, and for anything I know it may be glandular. But it is not something that can be demanded from life, and if you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness.
- Robertson Davies

Treasures from unhappiness. It makes an odd sort of sense to me, especially considering how my last several weeks have gone. On the 26th of May, I began to show symptoms of anxiety and/or postpartum depression (PPD). On the 27th, I had such a difficult time concentrating, that I decided to push off the grad program from my planned June 2 start date. I mean, if I couldn’t concentrate enough to write my entrance essay, how the &^%$ did I think I’d do grad work? On the 30th, I had a full-blown panic/anxiety attack, complete with fears I’d end up rocking in a corner somewhere in an institution.

Thankfully, I have a good friend who stepped in to my cry of “HELP!” and talked me back into reality, made me promise to go see a doctor about meds for PPD, and generally helped me step away from the cliff’s edge. After we got off the phone, I was simply exhausted — but at least back into my own skin.

Within half an hour, she called back with a command. “Google ‘IUD Depression’.”

to be continued…

Fondness & Affection, Day 4:

Thought: I am physically attracted to my partner.
Task: Think of one physical attribute you like.

Mmmmm. Yes. I’ll just pick one. Or two. Or three.

Mike has a smile that could stop traffic, complete with laugh lines that indicate a long-held sense of humor about life. From the very first phone call, I’ve loved his voice. When you put those together, you get a laugh that could melt the coldest blizzard…a perfect storm of attraction. Yum.

Day 3:

Thought: I can easily remember romantic, special times in our marriage.
Task: Pick one such time and think about it.

I skipped this yesterday. Somehow, even though I know it would help my attitude, it’s kind of tough to build up motivation do do this when deep down, you want to throttle your husband. I got over it. Ah, mawidge.

On with the exercise:

On our first *real* date (ie, alone, no child along), Mike and I had dinner together at a lovely Indian restaurant in the Cherry Creek area of Denver. The setting was fantastic, and for the first time, we were able to have a meal complete with adult conversation uninterrupted by a toddler. Bliss.

So, what did we talk about? Why, parenting, of course. (Figures. The whole eight days we spent in Costa Rica without Maya? We talked about her all. the. time. You don’t know how much you’re going to miss your kids. Maya, on the other hand didn’t ask for me a single time.) Ahem…where was I? Right, parenting.

Mike started to tell me his philosophy on raising children — one which centered largely on letting a child be who they are, and supporting them as they find their own way, rather than pushing them to conform to some preconceived notion he might have had. For some people, this might not have qualified as romantic. For me, I was nearly in tears. I’ve got an amazing man on my hands, did you know that?

Wondering what this is? Read this post.

Thought: I can easily speak of the good times in our marriage.
Task: Pick one good time and write a sentence about it.

Little romantic gestures don’t come naturally to my INTP spouse (who sees them as vaguely ridiculous), but knowing that I’ve said I enjoy flowers, he showed up the other night with a bright bouquet. The flowers are lovely; but, his willingness to listen to the little things I’ve told him can help me feel loved…priceless.

Somewhat related to my issues with the type of prayer mentioned last week:

In other words, individuals who are said to have an internal locus of control believe that they control their own destiny and that they make things happen, while those with an external locus of control believe that their successes, failures and other events in their lives are caused by luck or fate, and that circumstances are beyond their control.

There are advantages and disadvantages with both, but secular psychology generally considers an internal locus of control the healthier position of the two. Those with an internal locus of control tend to take more responsibility for their behaviour, while those with an external locus of control tend to be more anxious about the world around them.

Read the rest here.

Added
I forgot to extend this invitation: If you’re married or in a relationship, and you’d like to join in, please do. Leave your happy thoughts about your S/O in the comments, or write them up at your blog — but please leave a link here, too.

Day 1

Thought: I am genuinely fond of my partner.
Task: List one characteristic you find endearing or lovable.

This is easy. I *am* genuinely fond of my husband. Do I only get to list one characteristic?

Read the rest of this entry »

No matter how much you think you’re ready, marriage is hard. Talking to friends who’ve BTDT, that’s what I’ve learned. At least knowing I’m not alone in this keeps me from thinking that I’m just particularly bad at being a wife…apparently, this is quite normal.

As I attempt to be good at this whole marriage thing (or at least not horrifically bad), I’ve done what I normally do when confronted with something new: I read. My husband has been a tad mocking of my affinity for self-help books (seems that’s mostly what I’m reading lately), but hell…if they actually allow me to help myself, are they all that bad?

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