She's the chosen one, I just get to sit here and rot

I read on Facebook today about a friend returning to work after her maternity leave. She was happy to get back to her job. Why couldn't that have been me? Why did I have to suffer at the hands of postpartum depression? Why was I held under water gasping for a mere moment of air? Why?

Why do I continue to battle this, almost three years later? This is me now. The bipolar me. The me who constantly has to shield herself from these horrid thoughts in my head.

Why can't a knight just come along and swing his sword in the air? Can't he just slay this bastard for good?

Why don't I have a knight? Where's my fucking armour? Why does she get to have it and I sit here bleeding from lack of protection?

You SHOULD Have Read This When I Initially Published It!

I'm loving the flashbacks over at SITS this week! Today's prompt is to "Re-upload a post you wish more people had read and explain why it was important to you." The post I've chosen isn't really important, per se, but I think it's hilarious.

I hope you laugh as much as I just did when I reread it!

100 to 150 With a Simple Phone Call

Why are you burned out? Because of this:


I went to the pharmacy. It's already written in RED, did they need to highlight it too? Let's just announce it to everyone.... See this woman? This woman standing right here? Her antidepressant isn't working so she needed a DOSE INCREASE. Carry on with your day now.

Yeah, go ahead and carry on with your day. I'll be sitting over here with my DOSE INCREASE, praying that it works.

THAT'S why I'm burned out.

I Thought I Killed You

My favorite time of the day also happens to be my most un-favorite time of the day.

During the work week, I creep into my nineteen-month old son's bedroom at 7am with his sippy cup filled with milk in hand. He hears me enter the room and he never fails to reach out for me. I scoop him up and give him a giant bear hug as we prepare for a diaper change.

He lies upon a plush towel on the floor, head propped by his favorite red pillow with the baseball on it. As quickly as possible, I fasten a new diaper on him and lie down beside him. I can hear his every sip and his every breath. I watch his tummy slowly move up and down in a rhythm and I snuggle right up next to his body. The body that perfectly fits beside mine.

When the last sip is drawn, I cringe. Our time is up. It has gone by too quickly. One last squeeze, a smooch on the cheek, and back into bed he goes. Then I walk out of the room, close the door and face the day ahead.

It's my favorite time of day because the house is quiet and calm and my son is at his most vulnerable. He's still sleepy-eyed and affectionate without my asking. Having to him leave for the next nine hours makes me insane with rage.This would have been understandable at this time last year. I was under the impression that this was a combat I had won!

Postpartum Depression (PPD) revisited. A relapse. Yes, it happens. Did I know it could happen? Was I prepared for the possibility? No and no.

I was very open about having PPD on my blog during the first round. My blog originated because of it. Writing was very therapeutic for me and it still is. In fact, I recapped many moments in this post. I just reread it myself and a lot of emotions came rushing back.

I have searched high and low for articles about PPD relapse. I have found nothing. The only information I can seem to muster up is that if you stop taking your medication too soon, the likelihood that PPD symptoms will return are rather high. I really feel like I kicked PPD's ass the first time. Like, it was lying in a pool of blood. This isn't some, "I think I'll stop taking my meds today and see what happens..." kind of situation. Hell no. I was better y'all. I felt great. When I weaned (under doctor's supervision and advice), I continued on the up and up. So what the fuck? I have a list of shit to get done, shit I want to get done. Does it get done? Nope. And if it does, it's probably really half-assed. For a perfectionist, that just won't do.

Anyhow I sort of dropped a bomb on many of you last week with my relapse news and I felt like I should share a bit of what's going on. How long is it going to last? I have no idea but for now, I'll write from time to time because it really does help me to release some of the pent up emotions.

I do want to leave you with a bit of advice. Yesterday I heard several disturbing instances involving PPD...

Number ONE: If a new mother decides to take extra time off from work after having her baby, do not make the assumption that she just wants an extended maternity leave to coo and smile at her new bundle. It's not a vacation, trust me. In fact, she's probably too paranoid and anxious to leave her baby.

Number TWO: Do not EVER fake PPD to get time off from work and collect disability. You can read this post to see what I'm talking about.

And Number THREE: The last one I promise... If a woman with PPD reaches out to you in confidence, first realize how hard it was for her to do so. Then, take her seriously. I'll describe one instance which stands out for me, but I'll leave out names. I once was in the middle of a breakdown and reached out to someone to say how I was literally breaking in half because I wasn't at home with my son. The response I received, "Oh, it'll be okay. You'll be home in about an hour!" It. Doesn't. Work. Like. That.

I'm Not A Storm Chaser, Really!

I moved to Florida from New Jersey (where the only worry was, how high should my hair go today?) when I was nineteen. My mother bought a mobile home (A.K.A. trailer) for my son (then 2 years old) and I to live in. It was actually really nice!

A few weeks after settling in, I watched the movie Twister for the first time. You know, the one with the "flying" cows.... The very next night, we were under a tornado warning, I shit you not. Not just a watch, but a warning. Meaning, a tornado is going to take your mobile home and gobble it down as an appetizer in ten minutes! I freaked out.

I remember attempting to sleep that night with the TV left on, tuned to the news. Every two and a half minutes the siren would go off with the red band flashing on the bottom of the screen reminding me of my doom.

There were no visible funnel clouds that night.

Flash forward a few years and my now husband was living with us. Guess what? Another W.A.R.N.I.N.G. was occurring. This time though, when looking outside, the sky looked like this:


Okay fine. It looked a little more like this:



What did I make my husband do at this point?



Okay, that might be a bit dramatic. I did make him drive around though:



There are instructions for when you're already in your car and a tornado forms. There aren't instructions that say "If there's a tornado warning, get in your car and track it down!" Unless you're a storm chaser and you're going against all the rules!

My husband probably shook his head, argued with me for a minute, whatever. In the end, I won and we drove.

There never was a tornado. To this day, 24 years after initially moving here, I've never seen a tornado. Well, not including all the times I've seen Twister on TNT since then....

Talking Elevators & Birds Who Walk?

Inside joke alert: At my house, when we love something so much we say, "Oh, I just want to lick all your hair off!" Like, if my 1 year old does something too freaking cute for words I'll go, "You're so cute I just want to lick all your hair off!"

The short version of the reasoning behind this phrase is this. Last year, my son Isaac (who is 10) was making fun of the things girls say. One time he described how all the girls in his class are always all "Awwwwwwww!" when they see a puppy. So he was making fun of them one day and said. "Awwwwww, that puppy is so cute I just want to lick all his hair off!" And so it was born!

There's a story here, there's always a story here!

Last weekend. I was out promoting Palm Coast Macaroni Kid. My oldest son Jerytt and I were at this shopping center handing out flyers and talking to business owners. It was a two-story building and the stairs weren't in sight most of the time, so we opted for the elevator. The. Elevator. Talked.

She was so pleasant. You get in and she's all, "Going up!" and I'm all, "Why yes, yes I am!". When we got to the next floor she's all, "Here you are!" and I'm all, "You're so awesome, I just want to lick all your hair off!" She was that sexy, let me tell you!

Okay, now I want to discuss birds. You know how you'll be driving along and a fucking squirrel will run in front of your car and you don't even hesitate to slam on your breaks because "Fucking squirrel!"? Well, birds can fly, right? Why the hell are they taking to walking across the street? Penguins are one thing, I totally realize it's like 1,000,000 to 1 that a penguin is going to dart in front of my moving vehicle, in Florida, but that would be understandable right? Because of the whole, they can't fly thing. But when a bird is crossing the street, via his feet, I only slow down. I don't halt like I would for the fuzzy squirrel trying to find his goodies he buried for later.

When I'm approaching a bird walking across the street, I slow down a bit and am all, "Why the hell aren't you flying? You have wings you asshole!" Then I get to thinking that perhaps he's mocking me! He's all, "You're human. I know that at least once a week you have that dream where you can fly. This is me telling you that I can do both, and you can't, you dumb bitch!"

Brownie Fix - - A Novel By Ellen Cordona

Ellen Cordona is the author of Brownie Fix. She contacted me and asked if I would read her book and host a review on my blog. I don't host reviews for just any book and/or product, I have to believe in it.

Then I read the synopsis:

Chocolate. Love. Sex. Really, what else could a woman want in life? For Persey, the heroine of Brownie Fix, her days are fun-filled until what is normally one of life's most fulfilling experiences, the birth of her son, leads her straight into a dark state of postpartum depression.

Wandering in her own postpartum hell, Persey meets people that are absurd, like the swinging neighbors who want a little more than a cup of sugar and a group of mothers who become whipped up in worship to a climactic furor. On top of the madness, she keeps seeing a yellow-toothed old man who acts like he wants to breastfeed from her. Or is it her imagination? Add the voices in her head that become louder and louder, and it's little wonder that Persey reaches for brownie mix to soothe her insanity.

Buckling under the pressure and lack of sleep from motherhood, Persey experiences the five stages of grief that lead her to uncover a buried secret, and gradually she begins to heal with the help of her family, friends, and, of course, brownies.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

...and I agreed to do it immediately. & nbsp;


I settled in to read Brownie Fix and couldn't put it down. There were definite moments that triggered memories of when I was in the throws of postpartum depression and had to stop reading for a bit. & nbsp;

The style in which this book was written is like nothing I've ever read before on the topic of PPD. I'm so glad to come across a work of fiction on the subject. & nbsp;

There were definite moments that moved me to tears, laughter, many head nods and smiles. I was sad when the book ended and without giving the ending away, let me just say I fell in love with Persey from the very beginning. & nbsp;


I recommend Brownie Fix to anyone going through PPD or who has been there. Maybe you had a child and weren't sure it was PPD you were experiencing? Read the book. You'll be glad you did.

Michael {Myers} vs. Jason {Voorhees}

A Step in the Wrong Direction

My mind is racing faster then I can compute. I have to get some of it out of my head and project it elsewhere or I think my brain might actually burst.

At some point between yesterday afternoon and yesterday evening, things shifted within me. I posted a few days ago that I thought the emotional part of this relapse was behind me. The anxiety had kind of flat lined and I hadn't had a panic attack in a while.

Last night, I was making my son's birthday dinner. It's a recipe I have made on numerous occasions. I only refer to it now for the proper measurements. While making this meal, if you had been a fly on the wall, you would have thought I had never cooked a day in my life. Everything was running together. Following the recipe proved to be very difficult. Somehow, I pulled it off and we enjoyed a nice dinner together.

I brushed it off to being tired. A side-effect to starting the meds again. My dose goes up today. I'm scared how my body is going to react. I've been having hot flashes, sweating profusely, loss of appetite... You get the idea. As a human, I can't help but wonder how much worse these side-effects are going to get rather than thinking, hey, maybe the upped dose will level me off and things will start to get better. I'm trained to think negatively.

I cried this morning when I left the baby. I haven't cried in days. This back stepping shit isn't for me. I don't know if I'm strong enough to pull it off this time. Recovery is hard and it's uphill all the way. It's so much easier to roll down the hill.

Seeing isn't believing

"You don't want to get better."

I Write For Technorati Too

Remember when I used to write for the Deep South Moms group and then they had to go and close shop? Well Technorati picked us up under a new channel for Women. I'm so excited to have a clear enough head to be writing again about something other than Postpartum Depression.

I've written a handful of posts over there already and wanted to share them with y'all:

December 2, 2010: Article first published as A Spoon Full of Sugar Helps the Wrong Dose of Medicine Go Down? on Technorati. -- Unintentional over-the-counter liquid medicine under/over dosing in children? Shame on you FDA...

November 30, 2010: Article first published as Picasso Resurrected on Technorati. -- Pablo Picasso recently resurrected from a trunk within a garage of the French Riviera.

November 28, 2010: Article first published as Feeding the Personality vs. Fighting It on Technorati. -- As parents, let's lead by example; positive reinforcement over the preferred and much simpler haze of negativity.

November 19, 2010: Article first published as Are You Okay? Postpartum Depression.... on Technorati. -- Is the stress of Postpartum Depression eating you alive? You're not alone.

Because the words leave me speechless...

I have a husband whom I adore and three children who are my life (sometimes I wish them away, thou shan't lie).... but books are my ultimate companion! When asked what I'm reading my instant reply would be, "At which time of the day?" I have a minimum of two books going at once, sometimes more.

I don't understand it when people say they don't read. Rather, they don't read books. How could you not?

Books are like Halloween to me. Halloween is the one day each year you that you can disguise yourself into someone or something else, and nobody questions you for it. Sure, some books have some very questionable topics but the idea that you can escape into someone else's world, even for a brief time? That floors me!

I've recently swallowed the Twilight series whole. It left me feeling empty because I wanted more. In walked Katniss Everdeen of The Hunger Games series and that void was instantly fulfilled. I'm currently at the end of book three, Mockingjay. It leaves me breathless. I'm afraid to finish the series because once the book is closed, a piece of me will disappear within. I'm also consuming Under the Dome by the one and only, Stephen King (did you catch him on the last episode of Sons of Anarchy? Brilliant!). I'm chewing on that one, bit by bit, and pairing it with the most delectable of wines.

When a book captures my attention, you'll rarely see me in a room without it. I become obsessed. Just yesterday my husband pointed out my latest Stephen King craze upon the counter-top (he already read it). He asked me what Under the Dome was doing up there? I told him my books are like my pets. While I may not have my nose in it right now, I'm thinking about it and I might want to pat its head when I walk by. You know, graze it affectionately now and again...

I'm craving the crisper weather of Fall, but alas, I live in Florida and that's not within my instant grasp. Why? Mid-afternoon french vanilla coffee, a blanket, a cracked window, and whichever book I'm reading at the present time. Doesn't that sound rich?

What are YOU reading?!

Based on a True Story Part 2

Go here for Part 1.

When the phone finally rang I exhaled. Only then I discovered it wasn't my general practitioner as promised. It was the fill in psych from the day before. Are you kidding me?

"Hi, this is Dr. Welch. Did you go to the ER last night? I thought we had a plan set in place and you were going to follow through with that and see Dr. Psych when he returns next week." she said.

"No, you had a plan. I told you that plan sucked and I need my medications adjusted but you blew me off so I escalated the matter only I got screwed over in the process." I shouted.

"Can you come in and see me?" Dr. Welch asked.

"Why. Are you only interested in my co-pay? Why can't we do this over the phone. You're unwilling to help me anyway." I responded.

Dr. Welch insisted I come in. She couldn't make any changes to my meds without seeing me in person. Fine. I went. We hashed it out after my blood pressure was taken {high} and weight was measured {up}.

This is what's happening:

1. Referral to an Endocrinologist to get to the bottom of my fracking thyroid problems
2. Drop the Abilify
3. Start taking Wellbutrin with my Zoloft in the morning, along with my thyroid pill
   
4. Continue taking the Trazadone before bed
5. Wait two weeks to see if the new cocktail is working or call in the meantime if it's not {to be blown off}
6. Diagnosed with Postpartum OCD {I also have PPD and PPA}
   

I'm okay with all of this. I would have been much more happy and at ease if this is what occurred yesterday. I have to take what I can get I suppose.

Thank you to everyone who sent a warm wish, a kind note, some support, all of it. You guys are my rock and I appreciate each and every one of you!

Stay tuned...I'll update as it happens.

Crazy Dream

Faith. Do you have it?

Faith is defined as having confidence or trust in a person, thing, or a system of religious belief.

I'm a Catholic by default but at present, I believe in nothing.

How can a person have faith when she doesn't have a higher power to look up to?

When I hear the word "faith" I instantly visualize a great God who created life and the people who walk upon our Earth.

I don't want this to be a religious debate. I'm simply stating that in my life experience there is no God. I see faith and God as one divine being. One that doesn't exist in my corner of the world.

And if there is a God? Fuck him.

Fuck him for allowing me to come into this world innocently and unknowingly. Fuck him for allowing my daily struggle with depression to persist. Fuck him for every time I thought about not wanting to live anymore because of the darkness I face each day. Fuck him for not guiding me properly along this dreary path. Fuck him for yanking away my innocence and unknowing so violently.

What the fuck God?

What makes you the boss of me?

Who are you to decide how I think, feel, love, hate...

Who the fuck are you to judge me?

- -

When I gave birth to my third son I also birthed an illness. One so cruel and intense. It detached itself from my placenta and crawled into my head. I pushed the placenta out and that one demon who was able to remove itself before it was too late, embedded in my crux.

It's chemical. I know it is, but I want it to know that it can no longer run my life. It's not allowed to control how I walk, talk, dress, eat, or adjust my emotions.

Every day I give advice or share a piece of my story with a fellow postpartum depression sufferer. Every day! I offer encouragement and won't allow defeat.

Why can't take my own advice?

One week ago today, I thought my life was over. A friend said to me, "What would you tell friend if she came to you and said you didn't want to live anymore because of this illness?" and I was dumbstruck. She was right. I wouldn't have allowed defeat.

I'm too tired to fight anymore, but I will. I'm too tired to care anymore, but I do.

Because I'm not going to let it defeat me.

Science Fair Time AGAIN

The Mad Hatter

I think I'm out of the emotionally draining, beginning stage, of my postpartum depression (PPD) relapse. Now? I'm just mad.

Mad that this happened again...

Mad that I have little to no motivation to do anything...

Mad that the one thing I can do to put a stop to it is out of my reach...

Mad that I don't even want people to really talk to me...

Mad that I can't just lie down somewhere and allow myself the freedom to work this out with as much time as it takes...

Mad that I'm not sleeping...

Mad that at first, my appetite was suppressed by the medication and now that's slowly letting up...

Mad that my body aches, my lower back hurts so much today I just want to scream...

Mad that one of the best things that ever happened to me (giving birth to my third son) ruined me from the inside out...

Mad that I just want to lock myself up in a dark room and yell, cry, shred pillows, anything to make the emotional stress and anxiety go away...

Mad that I feel paranoid all the time, people are looking at me, they see inside my head, they know my thoughts, they know the dark cloud has returned...

Now? I'm just mad.

Things that go BUMP in the night?

While reading the book ROOM, by Emma Donoghue, I got to thinking about a child's perception of every day living.

About the book:

To five-year-old Jack, Room is the entire world. It is where he was born and grew up; it's where he lives with his Ma as they learn and read and eat and sleep and play. At night, his Ma shuts him safely in the wardrobe, where he is meant to be asleep when Old Nick visits.

Room is home to Jack, but to Ma, it is the prison where Old Nick has held her captive for seven years. Through determination, ingenuity, and fierce motherly love, Ma has created a life for Jack. But she knows it's not enough…not for her or for him. She devises a bold escape plan, one that relies on her young son's bravery and a lot of luck. What she does not realize is just how unprepared she is for the plan to actually work.

Told entirely in the language of the energetic, pragmatic five-year-old Jack, ROOM is a celebration of resilience and the limitless bond between parent and child, a brilliantly executed novel about what it means to journey from one world to another.

I recently wrote a contributing post at Mama Moderne about Night Terrors. In the article, I mention on a particular night, my son's night terror was triggered by his worry about money. My son is eleven years old and has been experiencing night terrors for years. It made me wonder, what conversations were overheard by him, etc... that would have triggered past night terrors?

I know children have sponge-like minds and they are constantly soaking in waves of information. How they perceive it can often times come off as humorous to most adults. Do you ever wonder what lurks in the shadows? The things they pick up on but choose not to discuss with you?

ROOM has opened a new door in my home, one I didn't know existed. My children know that they can come to my husband or I with any question and we'll answer it as honestly as we can. However, if they don't ask, we can't tell.

Perhaps what is lurking 'in the closet' or 'under the bed' isn't really a monster. It's real life and it scares the shit out of them...

My copy of ROOM was received free of charge on behalf of the From Left to Write book club.

Just Make the Decision FOR Me!

A quick update to this mornings post....

Left message 9am for Dr. Psych

No call back. No call back. No call back.

12:30pm Got enough courage to call the doctor again.

Nurse: He'll call you between patients.

Me: It's been 2 1/2 hours. I don't think you are taking me seriously!

Nurse: It's not like we didn't give him the message!

? ? ?

Hung up, swallowed Xanax. Twittered. Facebooked. Reached out to anyone who would answer who I didn't have to actually talk to with voice.

1:00pm PPD Chat at Cafe Mom. BIG help! Made promise to the girls to do yoga for at least five minutes tonight with the baby and to bake. Baking is therapy, although not for my hips. Pumpkin Bread and maybe chocolate chip cookies. Pictures and recipes to follow on Friday. I promised after all!

2:00pm (ish) Dr. Psych called back. Remember, I have a hard time making ANY decisions lately. He presented me with way too many:

• Albifiy - An anti-psychotic I can take with my current dose of Zoloft to "move things along". Downside is involuntary twitching limbs, increased appetite, weight gain, to name a few. OH and it's very expensive, $50, no generic available.
• Wellbutrin - Another antidepressant to take with my current dose of Zoloft to attack the parts of my mind that Zoloft isn't taking care of.
• Increase Zoloft to 150mg and take Xanax on a regular basis until the new dose kicks in. Downside is if I start to feel better in a day or two it's probably from my previous dose kicking in and I could downward spiral in the following weeks.
  

I went with the third option. It is what it is.

3:00pm My ultra supportive husband called me, he pulled an all nighter the night before. I cried. He listened. He encouraged. He wrapped me in his love. He confirmed my decision was right. I made him promise that if ever there comes a time where I start rambling, not making sense, doing things in a strange manner, anything of the sort... That he would take me to the hospital. It won't come to that, but still.

I wanted to let you all know. You have been so supportive and really cheering me on. Tomorrow is a new day.

Wordless {Wordful} Wednesday - - The Fruit is Plentiful!

Autumn for most means the leaves are changing to brilliant reds, oranges and yellows. Well here in Florida, it mainly means that we can open the windows. By open the windows I mean, open them and not have to sit still for fear of breaking a sweat.

It also means that our citrus trees are over flowing with abundance. Once our first few cold spells push through (it does happen!) all that luscious grapefruit, oranges, limes and lemons will be ready for picking. Is it comparable to the apple picking of the North? Not in my book, but it's pretty damn close!

Anonymous Submissions - - I "Saved" Myself for Marriage

My hubby and I were together 5 years before we got married at ages 23 and 22. And despite a lot of passion and a lot of hot making out, we kept the clothes on and the hands and mouths away from private areas and the genitals apart until we were married.

And it was one of the hardest effing things we'd ever done.

Because we had a physical relationship. Oh, boy did we have a physical relationship. And I regularly...um...well...let's just say I was very satisfied with our physical relationship.

What can I say? We were creative while staying true to our lines.

We got married and finally, finally could have sex. We had been putting so much energy into avoiding it for so long, and now we could finally let the barriers fall and just enjoy each other!

We undressed each other for the first time on our honeymoon.

We fell into bed together. Kissing. Touching. Exploring.

Trying to have sex.

Yes, you read that right. Trying.

It wasn't until our third day that we achieved penetration. And it was not from lack of trying.

Nor from lack of communication. We were, and are, very open about sex. Talking before, during, and after about what we need when it's needed.

Finally we achieved it and went on to enjoy our honeymoon.

After it wasn't as fun for me as making out had been. No....satisfaction. That was part of it.

But it was also physically uncomfortable. Painful. I felt like I was tearing..and then my hoo-hah would sting for a day or two after. And the actual experience was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. But I figured it was just part of figuring things out. After all, we were new to this, surely we just needed lots of practice!

I mentioned it to my GYN at my next checkup almost a year later when she asked how sex was going. She agreed we probably just needed practice. I was shocked that my pap smear, which I remembered from my virgin days as being almost unbearably uncomfortable, was nothing, easy, relative to sex.

We kept trying. But it got harder. When something is physically painful your brain starts to try to protect you from it. I would passively avoid sex. Often by avoiding my husband. It was very hard to get me turned on in any way. We would get close and the fear would kick in, because even though the pain wasn't major, it was always there. And it was overwhelming enough that I simply could not get pleasure from sex. The pain and discomfort took up all of my mind and sensation.

Well-meaning friends who knew we had waited until marriage would tease us all the time about our sex life (good-naturedly). Single friends would say seriously they were jealous they couldn't have sex regularly like we could. I enjoy books with some type of romantic subplot in there, and of course no romance is complete without some mind-blowing sex and the main character discovering how great it is. Every time something like this would come up, it would slam me in the gut. I wanted to enjoy sex. We were doing everything right. Talking, trying, using lube, etc. So why was it so consistently bad? It wasn't fair! I spent evenings crying about wanting to enjoy a physical relationship with my hubby, but being too scared of the discomfort of sex to want to initiate anything for fear it might lead there (he was fine with it not, I felt guilty).

The next year I went back to the same GYN, and she asked if things had gotten better. I said no. Thank goodness I had a GYN who would ask and discuss these things.

She sent me to a physical therapist.

Not just any physical therapist.

A physical therapist who specialized in pelvic floor work.

I had no idea such a person existed. It had never occurred to me to seek that out. I thought there was nothing to be done. I hadn't even really realized there was something actually wrong. After all, you always hear about women who are or end up "too loose" to enjoy sex, or guys who are too small to pleasure them as a problem. You never really hear about women who are too tight.

I went to physical therapy for almost six months.

About halfway through, I had sex without discomfort for the first time. More than 2 years into my marriage.

Afterwards, I wanted to cry. Tears of relief. Tears of joy.

Now I could give this to my husband, this important physical connection that women are constantly told they must give to their husband regularly to be good wives (I'm assuming the once or twice a month we were down to wouldn't have counted as "regularly." Especially given how (not) into it I was). Now, maybe eventually I could even get something positive from it myself.

It took more work. It will continue to. But a few weeks ago, I graduated from physical therapy.

Sex is still not easy. We both have to be very careful, especially at certain times. But if we are, then sex is usually neutral for me at worst.

Neutral I can handle. Especially since my magic wand helps take me to fantabulous after ;-)

Things continue to improve. My relationship with my husband is improving again. I'm not avoiding him out of a subconscious fear anymore. I am even starting to look forward to and initiate sex for myself.

Every woman deserves a sexual relationship free from pain and discomfort. I didn't think I had a problem, because I could handle it. I wasn't crying out in pain (usually). It just was bad enough to make the whole experience bad.

I hate to think where we'd be now if my GYN hadn't sent me to that physical therapist.

I don't think this is that common a problem. But I also think it's often just not talked about.

If you have pain or discomfort with intercourse, if you feel like you are tearing, if you can't relax because the negative sensations are too strong, talk to your doctor. Ask for a referral to a PT who specializes in pelvic floor.

It changed my life.

----

This is the sixth Anonymous Submissions post here at 2 Much Testosterone! Do you have something you want to get off your chest and want to do so anonymously? Email me at lotsOspermies@live.com and I'll get that going for you.

My Psychiatrist Broke Up with Me

I have to work on this!It's true.

My psychiatrist is moving on. Without me.

I had my last appointment with him yesterday.

I cried when I left.

At times I had issues with him, like any normal human would.

Sometimes I questioned if he had my best interest in mind when making decisions.

When I gave into his ideas and strategies, I was often feeling better sooner than later.

I've been feeling rather steady since the last crash where my doctor added a new drug to my list of daily pills I swallow. There's no generic of this drug and I am currently living off of samples. I cringe at the thought that someday soon I'll have to pay for it out of pocket.

I honestly thought it would be me leaving him rather than the other way around. I'm moving back to Colorado the first week of June. So I & nbsp; knew that someday soon I would be moving on, I just didn't think it would be now.

Yup, I'm trading in my flip flops for snow boots. & nbsp;

I left yesterday with handwritten prescriptions for my other medications to be filled when we land in the mountainous area.

Unless I have a complete breakdown before June, I will be psychiatrist free until I find a new one in Colorado.

Big changes are on the horizon. Really big changes. But I'm ready.

It's time to begin my life again rather than live the one that's been set up for me here in Florida. I've hit a dead-end here. It's time to be a free bird. I will fly and glide and follow the route I'm supposed to very soon.

CSN Round-Up

I've been working to help promote CSN Stores since June of this year. I'd like to give a quick review of each of the items I've gotten from them. It's the holiday season and you might need some gift ideas? CSN Stores has just about everything you could possible need. From counter height stools to hand bags.

Here's the run down of all my great CSN items!

My first ever giveaway:

This tent made my winner really happy. My son has one similar to it in his room and it's fantastic!

Griddle/Grill:

One side is a griddle, great for the many pancakes and grilled cheese sandwiches made at my house, and the other is an indoor grill, great for making fajitas and so much more!

Some great bowls fabulous for individual potato dishes and/or french onion soup:

Baby bike seat:



My son squeals from behind me when we're out riding around!

All of these items are quality name brands. No skimping here. If you need a gift for the holiday season or just need a little something for yourself, check out CSN Stores today!

Keeping My Promise

On Wednesday, I attended the PPD Chat over at CafeMom. I was jolted out of my funk and was exposed to some energy to go home and follow through on a few promises I made to the group:

1. Make breakfast for dinner; Homemade waffles and porkroll
2. Bake some homemade pumpkin bread (and post my recipe today, see below)
3. Do Yoga for 5 minutes; I did it for about 10

I enjoyed that dinner with my three sons. I baked. At the end of the evening, I dragged out my bright pink yoga mat and my little guy came dashing into my space to walk all over it. As I dipped into "down-dog" he crawled beneath me. When I went from "cat" to "cat-lift" he laughed. And I laughed right back. After such a short session, I felt relaxed and at peace. I fell asleep on the couch shortly after.

I said I was going to bake some chocolate chip cookies on top of the above three tasks but after step #2, I was a little tired of doing dishes. Perhaps I'll get to it this weekend. Psssst: It's just the Nestle Tollhouse cookie recipe I use but I pull my cookies from the oven 1-2 minutes shy, leave 'em on the baking sheet to finish baking without the direct heat of the oven. The end result is mushy gooey cookie centers that never harden. YUM!


This pumpkin bread recipe has been perfected over the years. It started as a recipe I found somewhere along the way and I've tweaked it since:

Mix Dry Ingredients:

2 Cups Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Soda
1/2 Teaspoon Cinnamon
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
1/4 Teaspoon Baking Powder
1/2 Teaspoon Nutmeg

Mix Wet Ingredients:

1 1/2 Cups Sugar (no, it's not wet but it works best mixed with the wet!)
1 Tablespoon Honey
1 1/3 Cups Canned Pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling!)
1/2 Cup Water
1/2 Cup Melted Unsalted Butter
2 Eggs

Combine the wet into the dry and pour into two loaf pans. Bake at 350 degrees. Here's where it's tricky. I have a large and small loaf pan. The small one is done after about 40 minutes and the large after about 60 minutes. You do not want to over bake these. The toothpick test will do the trick and it will be moist every time.

My boys like my bread with powdered sugar or honey or butter. YUM! I hope you enjoy it...

Today is a new day. Thank you all for your continued support!

Wordless {Wordful} Wednesday - - Adult Beverage of the Week

Candy Corn Vodka
From The Inquisitr

Ingredients:

For the infused vodka:
* 1/2 cup candy corn
* 1 1/2 cups vodka

For the cordials:
* 2 ounces orange liqueur
* Juice of 1/2 lemon
* 1 large egg white (which I would personally omit)
* Candy corn, for garnish

Directions:

Infuse the vodka: Combine the candy corn and vodka in an airtight container; set aside for at least 3 hours, then strain.

Make the cordials: Add 4 ounces of the candy corn vodka, the orange liqueur, lemon juice and egg white to a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake vigorously for at least 30 seconds. Strain into 2 chilled martini glasses and garnish with candy corn.

This is sure to make a hauntingly good treat for post trick or treating!

BONUS PHOTO!!

Vampire Kiss Martini {Adult Beverage of the Week}

Vampire Kiss Martini

• 1 part Vodka, chilled
• 1 part Champagne
• 1 part Chambord

Rim the glass with red sugar (use food coloring) or drop in a set of wax vampire teeth for a real surprise. Pour vodka in a martini glass, top with Champagne and pour a little of the Chambord over the back of a spoon to make it float.

Once upon a blog...

Once upon a time, over two years ago, I started this blog to connect with other women suffering from postpartum depression. My following grew faster than I could blink. I got better and relapsed more times than I could count. I began to feel like a fraud. This was more than PPD.

Then I landed in the hospital and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Bipolar II. August 2011 to be exact. My life hasn't been the same since.

I started a new blog dedicated to my updated diagnosis and have come to regret that. I wish I would have found a way to integrate it here rather than separating the two.

In the next few weeks I've decided to transfer my posts here and eliminate that blog.

This is me. Bipolar and all. There's no reason to put up a front here anymore. Things change. I've changed.

2011 was the most challenging year of my life. I'm not saying 2012 is going to be some big turnaround but a girl can dream.

This is for me

This blog is for me. I am inspired by many other individual's blogs but this one, this one is for my own sanity. A way to get the thoughts out of my head that seem to build and build and build. Followers? I'm not too worried about that, if I get one (Naomi) fine. But this is for me.

Once a baby is produced, grows inside of you for what seems like forever, is born into the world... the "for me" moments are few and extremely far between. I'm not trying to be selfish, I'm simply looking for a little self healing...

I have three sons. Jerytt will be 15 come October. 15! Am I old enough to be the mother to a freshman in high school? Well yeah, I had him when I was 17. A mistake, no way! We have our challenges but I wouldn't trade him.

Isaac just turned 10. He's my little hard headed prince. Isaac can be raging mad (probably something Jerytt did) but then his sweetness overpowers the situation and all is well in the world once again. Jerytt and Isaac - - best friends for life! Sometimes they act like mortal enemies but cross one of them, and the other will have you begging for mercy!

Xavier is about to turn 4 months old. He's supposed to have crossed that threshold of being out of this so-called 4th trimester and into the livelihood of infant status. We're on the cusp of that right now. My husband refers to him as the King. Whatever the King wants, the King shall get.

Is it awful of me to enjoy having a baby at this stage in my life more now than when I was only 17 years old with Jerytt... or when I was 21 with Isaac? Is that selfish to say outloud (or to type)? Well I do enjoy it more now. I enjoy the 4am feedings (which usually also include a ritualistic diaper exlosion), I let him nurse until his heart is content. I love rolling over in the morning to the sun sized smile on his face, chubby cheeks spread wide. I'm a more patient person with this one.

I used to be so scheduled. Laundry on Sunday, deep clean the house every other weekend (now I'm lucky to run the vacuum), no going out after work... a total home body. Just me and my boys, husband too of course (our 3rd wedding anniversary is on the rise, this marks 12 years together total). This small King is taking over our existence and I'm completely and totally fascinated by it. By him. So what's a few months lost of the usual day to day occurrences? Things will get finished (or started) in due time. I have to constantly remind myself of this.

I'm back at work now, going on about a month give or take. Eric (my husband) is home with all the boys for the Summer. He's a student. I'm the bread winner. Once he's finished and we pay off some debt, the roles will reverse. I'm sincerely jealous that he is home and I am not. It's putting me into a state of depression, I've never felt like this before. I didn't even know it was possible to develop postpartum depression for up to a year after giving birth! It used to only hit me during the week while I was at work. Now it's creeping in on Saturday night and Sunday morning over coffee, it's invading my sacred space. I thought the writing would assist with keeping it at bay. I'll soon find out.

I hope to mark the page with more positives than negatives. Soon. Right now I have to deal with the matter at hand. I love my kids. I love my husband. I love our new (rental) home. It's time to be happy and wash away these thoughts in my head.

***

I've come a long way since this post. I no longer have PPD and am no longer on medication for it. I continue to help women who reach out to me who have either been diagnosed with PPD or believe they may have it. I'm far from a trained medical professional but women feel better when they can talk to someone who is in similar shoes. For whatever reason, we compare ourselves to others and sometimes feel like less of a person (woman, mother, etc.) for it. I'm here to remind other PPD survivors that this simply isn't so!

Moving Forward - - Living the Life We're Meant to Live

I used to be excited to call myself a resident of Florida. Living here was easy but lately, I'm talking the past several years, it has been way too hot for majority of the year. Doing anything outdoorsy has been a chore when actually acted upon (Last weekend I slathered sun block all over my three year old and we hit the beach. After being there for ten minutes he said he "hated it" and wanted out.). Most of the time, I keep to my air conditioned home. It's easy and way more comfortable. Over the past year, there were only a handful of & nbsp; "open the windows" days.

The next year is going to be filled with changes for my family and I. My oldest will be a senior in high school and once he graduates, we're moving onward to build the life we're meant to live. That means...leaving the Sunshine State (and quite happily I might add).

Where will we go? This is to be decided. I have a list of States I would love to end up living in, but I don't know how my husband and I will finally decide. There's so much to consider!

My picks? Washington (State), Pennsylvania, Virginia or North Carolina. Living on (or very near) a coast is simply a must. Since my husband recently finished getting his degree in Network Administration, being near a big(ish) city is also a must so he can have a fulfilling career in the industry. I'm adamant about being able to comfortably enjoy the outdoors year-round. I realize that means embracing the fact that snow will once again be involved (I lived in New Jersey for the first nineteen years of my life and my husband and I lived in Colorado for six). Give and take, yes?

Up until three years ago, we've always lived in apartments. It has its positives and negatives. It was nice not having to worry about caring for the grounds and such. Now we live in a house and it's so fantastic not having to worry about the people above, below, or next to you (sharing a wall). We also have a garage which is a blessing in disguise. I figure, if we rent a house with a garage big enough for both our cars to fit, we'll be one step ahead of snowy weather. The other night we were joking about having to shovel snow. Then we're all, duh, we have sons for that AND snow blowers have come a long way. I'm down for snowman building, sleigh riding, hot chocolate filled, lazy Winter days. Especially after dealing with the deadly heat that has become Florida, yuck! Four seasons, what a concept.

I've been looking into Sequim, WA specifically this week. It's a few hours drive time from Seattle and has the lowest rainfall of the entire State (most people hear Washington and instantly think of nothing but rain). I'm drawn to the idea of having both the ocean and the mountains within reach. The pictures of the city blow me away. I realize this isn't much to go on for such a big life changing decision, but it's what I have. For now.

Berry picking!

Lavender