A Mom's Top 25 Tips for Fighting Depression

I had one day last week that was a really, really great day. I secured two more paid monthly writing gigs. I had gotten a lot done that day, practiced some yoga, and was feeling pretty good.

Then Slim, my 9-year-old, got in the car after school. "Mom, guess what?!" (To be fair, I already knew "what" because his teacher had e-mailed me.) "I won the Geography Bee out of the whole fourth grade!" Finally one of his quirky little obsessions has paid off. I have not seen him so proud and happy in a long time. It made me so happy to see him so happy.

But the next day, I hardly got anything done. I was chasing my tail - and Edgie, my 2-year-old - all day cleaning up messes. I wanted to go for a walk, but had to wait for the garage opener repairman. I wanted to clean out my closet and switch out summer clothes for winter clothes, but Edgie was scattering my jewelry and shoes everywhere. Slim came home from school upset because he had gotten in trouble in PE, which he felt wasn't his fault. In the evening, we tried to settle in for one of our favorite family activities- reading Harry Potter by the outdoor fireplace all snuggled together under blankets eating roasted marshmallows - but there was one interruption after another.

I was downright crabby. And a little depressed. Is it too hard to ask that there ever be two consecutive good days in a row?

I happened to read a post by one of my favorite on-line friends, JD from Honest Mom, who blogs a lot about depression. Hers is on-going, despite having tried many strategies. I began to think about my own strategies, and realized that I am NOT using any. I think I am relying too much on my doctor prescribed antidepressant. I have been on Lexapro since Joey was diagnosed with cancer; and honestly, I think I may be using it as a crutch at this point. I would love to stop taking the Lexapro, but that means I need to try much harder at the strategies that I know make me feel better. I have noticed a definite correlation between how I choose to treat myself and my happiness.

So, here are my 25 best tips for fighting depression:

1. Eat (mostly) clean. I know I crave crap food when I'm feeling blue, but it just ends up making me feel worse a few hours later.
2. Limit alcohol, caffeine, and processed sugar. Along with number one, this is important. These may give you a temporary jolt, but the crash that comes later is brutal - and even more depressing. I would never tell anyone to completely cut out their favorite foods. Food IS comfort. But know your limits. And if you have a tendency to binge like me, avoid!
3. Get moving! The last thing a depressed person wants to do is an intense spin class. Just getting out of bed can be a challenge. But a brisk walk in the sunshine can do wonders. Plus the vitamin D from the sun is a bonus!
4. Stretch or do yoga. Getting your blood flowing can instantly perk up your mood. And it feels sooo good. This post shares some easy exercises you can do at home anytime.
5. Make a plan. Decide on something you will do each day - even if it is just going to the mailbox - and then do it. Without a plan, you will likely stay on the couch or in bed and in your funk.
6. Only put one thing on your to-do list per day. This was great advice from my husband. I used to get so frustrated and upset that I wasn't knocking out my laundry list of to-dos every day. What started out as a little humorous ribbing, ended up making perfect sense. You can get one thing done a day, right? And when you cross it off, it will feel so good you may just go and do something else.
7. Phone-a-friend. For me, talking to my mom always makes me feel better. But there are friends I can call about different things - one who understands my depression about losing Joey, one I can talk writing with, one I can just gripe about life with, etc. . . Just make sure you're not placing too much on any one friend - losing a friend can be depressing, too.
8. Organize something. There is something about standing back and looking at a purged and re-organized pantry the makes me high-five myself. Decluttering stuff can definitely help a cluttered mind.
9. Get down and dirty. Sure sex feels good, but I am talking about a good old-fashioned scrubbing. Along with number 8, lending a little elbow grease to that grime in the shower can be quite therapeutic.
10. Come clean. Taking a shower, a bubble bath, or just washing your hair or face or brushing your teeth can do wonders for turning a bad day around. You just have to get off the couch to do it.
11. Don't compare. That mom up at school who seems to have everything together and is wearing a cute little dress to volunteer in the cafeteria has problems, too. Trust me, she does. Everyone does.
12. Avoid triggers. Damn social media anyway. Facebook, Pinterest, and the like make it hard to avoid feeling depressed. But just remember two things: a.) Pinterest is supposed to be pretty. That is what draws people to a particular website. 75% of the things getting "pinned" will never be cooked, made, bought, wore, changed, or tried (I totally just made that percentage up, but you know it's true). And b.) Facebook is 99.9% bullshit (just made that percentage up, too). Those 30 Days of Gratitude posts can be maddening, right? Keep in mind that the same person who says something is a blessing, just bitched about it last month.
13. Meditate and breathe. This means finding a quiet place or time to regroup and think about what's really important in your life. If it means taking stock of all the little things you're grateful for (no announcement on Facebook necessary) then so be it. Think about everything you could lose if your pattern of depression continues. This does NOT mean dwelling on the things that are already upsetting you.
14. Take risks. Not the really dangerous, I-don't-give-a-crap-what-happens-to-me kind. The kind where a positive outcome would make you happy, but a negative one wouldn't devastate you. Every time I submit one of my pieces of writing, I feel a rush of happiness. If someone likes it and wants to pay me a little money for it, great. If not, well, I'll just move on to the next.
15. Do what makes you happy. If you have a passion, keep at it. Make it just for you. I will never stop writing. Even if no one is reading, I will still write. If you love old movies, take a day to watch your favorite black and whites. Don't give up what you love to do for ANY reason.
16. Sleep. Get the right amount. Not too much and definitely not too little. Listen to your body and say okay when it needs sleep.
17. Communicate. Don't expect those closest to you to know what you need. It may be difficult to articulate, especially if you fear rejection, but it's the only way anyone is going to be able to help you with what you need.
18. Cuddle. Depression can kill a person's sex drive, but we still all need loving contact. Sit close by your partner on the couch and watch a favorite movie or give back rubs. Snuggle with your kids or pet. Even one hug from someone you care about can make a difference.
19. Read something that makes you laugh. Can I suggest "I Heart My Little A-Holes" by Karen Alpert, "At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles" by Paige Kellerman, "Moms Who Drink and Swear" by Nicole Knepper, "Ketchup is a Vegetable" by Robin O'Bryant, or "I Just Want to Pee Alone", "You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth", and "The Mother of All Meltdowns" by various bloggers?
20. Read something that inspires you. Blogs, books, magazines.
21. Talk in a silly voice or make funny noises. Hey, it's good for a laugh, right? And laughter is contagious.
22. Belt out a tune. Pick one of your favorites. Is it a show tune? Some angry rap? A silly kids' song? I personally love singing the falsetto girl part in Justin Timberlake's "Senorita."
23. Bust a move. If I can dance to that song, too, man I feel good!
24. Cry. If all else fails, let it all out.
25. Think differently. I don't mean to be harsh about this, but sometimes it's not all about you. The other day, Edgie unearthed an old DVD that we haven't watched since Joey was alive. After watching it, Lil' C said, "That made me miss Joey. I feel like crying. I love Joey." At first it made my heart very heavy. But then, I told myself that at least Lil' C, who likely remembers very little about Joey, is talking about and expressing love for Joey. And that's a good thing. Whatever it is that threatens to pull you under FLIP IT and turn it into something else.
26. (Bonus one!) Say "I love you" - to yourself. Or at least a part of yourself. I am so depressed about all the weight I've gained in the last few years, but you know what? I still love my hair and my eyes. And when I put the last period on a really great piece of writing - damn it feels good! We all have beauty and worth - FIND YOURS!

Any one of these strategies in and of itself is not going to make a huge difference to a depressed person. But in combination, they can work wonders. There is definitely a part of depression that can be controlled by our own choices and actions. This I have come to know, and realize it is something I will be working on for the rest of my days.

Please note, if you have tried any or all of these strategies and you still feel like there is a heavy blanket on your heart and mind that you just can't get out from under, know that there is NO shame in getting help whether in the form of talk therapy or medication. For me, getting that medicinal assistance is what helped me learn more about my body and mind.

I am not completely off the Lexapro yet, and I don't know how it will go once I am. I will let you know, but I am confident that if I keep working on the strategies above I can do it.

My View

I've written two posts for Her View From Home this week. My first, on Monday, was a personal piece about my struggles with depression.

The issue is a double-edged sword. As more women move toward blogging and therefore talking about everything, there is still a stigma attached to depression and particularly the use of anti-depressants.

I'm not sure if I'd be so freely talking about it if Joey's illness had not prompted me to seek medication in the first place. Maybe I would, I don't know.

But I'm glad I have, as so many women are willing to share their struggles and triumphs and offer helpful advice and encouragement (at least on MY Facebook wall - THANK YOU for that!).

You can read Confession: I'm a Mom on Meds at Her View From Home.

My piece today is yet another admission of parenting imperfection called 10 Things I Swore I'd Never Let My Kids Do (And why they do them anyway).

Isn't it funny how life is so much different than you ever thought it would be?

I really want to thank all of you who comment here, on Facebook, and on Her View From Home. Feedback really means a lot to those of us who put ourselves out there. And it means even more when you are willing to listen and comment thoughtfully and respectfully. I have read at least four comment streams lately where women were just so judgy and downright mean to each other.

I really try hard to be a fence-sitter. From that vantage point, I can see both sides. I know which side I would jump to if I had to, but if I landed on the other side, I could at least make my way. Understanding is the key to peace in this crazy world, and I thank those of you who at least try.


On your way over to Her View From Home, check out and "like" their Facebook page for other great posts, recipes, crafts, and giveaways.

 

My Way Back from Depression


 


Last week, I was out of my little white happy pill.  The pharmacist had to call my doctor, and I knew they would play phone tag all week.  I've been out of my Lexapro before, and I knew what was going to happen...

One morning, I wake up feeling sad for no apparent reason.  A sadness that has nothing to do with any tragedy I've experienced.  I'm never sure why I am feeling sad, but I sink into it.  It lays over the top of me for a day or so, until it worms its way deep into my heart and mind, festering, slowly turning into anger and despair over every. little. thing.

Anger at all the things I can't seem to control.

And then it resides there, refusing to leave, affecting my every thought, every action.

My patience with my sons quickly wears thin.  I snap at the smallest mistake, yell over the tiniest indiscretions.  I take out my anger and feelings of worthlessness on them, innocent victims incapable of fighting back.  I scream and yell and say regrettable things that I know I will never be able to reverse.  

I yell at my four year old to 'Hurry up!!' We are late for preschool again.  We are always late.  Why can't I ever be on time for anything?

The baby is getting into everything, and I yank him away making him cry.

With every angry reaction I think,  'I'm a horrible mother.  This is how they will remember me.' This plunges me further into my pit of self-pity and negativity.  I can't believe how quickly I have descended this time.

When Hubby asks me about my day, I don't even want to talk or even let him look at me and see the sadness and anger in my eyes.  I am ashamed of myself.

My head is jumbled.  I can't think.  I can't remember anything.  I can't organize my thoughts.

I haven't written my weekly post for Her View From Home, and I can't think what to write.  I write sentences that make no sense and then delete them in a frustrated and angry tirade.  I know I should write a new blog post, too.  But why should I?  No one reads it anyway.  Every e-mail I get from other blogs I subscribe to makes me angry and depressed.  Why does this blog have so many followers?  Why did everyone comment on this post when no one comments on mine?  It defeats me.  I think, 'I am stupid to think that I can write, that I have talent, that I have anything to say that anyone wants to hear.'  I resign to just give up writing altogether, thinking only of the pieces that have been rejected.

'I am a miserable failure at everything.'

I don't return phone calls, I ignore e-mails and texts and messages on Facebook.  I don't feel like subjecting anyone to my negativity.  At my son's soccer game, I set up my chair far away from all the other parents.  I can't be social.  My friend Katie walks by and asks how my day is going.  Near tears, I tell her, 'Not good,'  and when she gives me a tight hug, I bristle.  I'm angry with myself for letting people see me like this.  Seeing me weak and ungraceful.

At the next soccer game of the day, my friend Heather sets up camp next to me and babbles happily in her enviable way.   I wonder if she can tell; does she know how I am feeling?  She has said that she needs to run every day.  It is her sanity.  What is my sanity?  Why is my sanity a pill?

At baseball games later that day, I get a rush of joy seeing my six year old make a good hit and run to first base.  My heart warms watching my four year old play for the first time, seeing his short legs run the bases and follow directions and laugh happily.

On Sunday, Hubby asks me to help plant annuals in the flower garden.  The hard work satisfies me for an afternoon.  I'm unsure whether it is because I am learning more about something I've always wanted to know or that Hubby and I are working side-by-side on a project, but it brings me temporary reprieve.

But later, I want to be alone with my thoughts, away from everyone.  I know this is dangerous.  I've been alone with my thoughts too many times in my life.  Alone with the thoughts that tell me I am worthless, I'm a bad mother and a terrible wife.  I can't cook or write or take care of my house or maintain friendships.  I'll never be able to run a race or write a book or complete a goal.  These were the same thoughts that plunged me into a scary darkness three times in my life.

Once in high school when I was so paralyzed by feelings of inadequacy that I stayed in my room wallowing in misery, sure that I was so far beneath everyone else that perhaps I shouldn't even exist.

Next, after I graduated from college and couldn't find a job.  I hated substitute teaching, so I stopped answering the phone at all.  I stopped getting dressed in the morning and stayed on the couch all day.

And when I desperately wanted a baby after I was married, and everyone but me seemed to be getting pregnant.  I stopped talking to my friends and avoided social situations.  I remember crying to Hubby, begging him to let me stay home from his high school fund raiser because we would be seated at the same table as someone who was pregnant, and I didn't want to stare at her swollen belly all night.

Hubby would often come home from work, and finding me in tears and on the couch would say to me, "You sat home and thought all day, didn't you?"

It feels like the cartoon image of the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other. It's the classic battle between light and dark, which both reside in all of us.  But in someone who suffers from depression, the dark mostly wins.  That little devil tells me awful things about myself, and I believe him.

In my twenties, my doctor suggested I see a therapist.  I carried around the name and number for about a year before I threw it away.  It was just another thing that made me feel inadequate, that proved I was a failure.  I always thought it was something I had to live with.  It wasn't that bad, was it?

But as I look back, it was.  It did paralyze me, it does keep me from doing the things I want to do - mainly loving my family and friends and pursuing my dreams.

Monday, I picked up the pills, and took two right away.  Slowly my head cleared, but I was still screaming at my sons and deleting every blog update from my e-mail.  I got back on my pattern of taking five milligrams every other day.  Any more makes me feel like a fuzzy-headed zombie; any less isn't quite enough.

I have found time to use my treadmill a bit each day this week, and when I am tired, I have gone to bed before exhaustion hits.

This morning, I gave gentle reminders about backpacks and glasses and dressing for preschool and laughed when Baby E took the dirty clothes out of the washing machine.  I feel like my sanity is slowly returning and lightness and calm are winning once again over darkness and anger.  I feel like I am returning to the person I want to be, that I know I am in my heart and in my beautiful mind.

I have three, maybe four posts I want to write, and I am reading all my favorite blogs again for inspiration.  The words are forming themselves in my head, and I can't type quickly enough.

I do hate that this sanity and clarity comes from a pill, but I thank God I can recognize this.  I thank God that I can recognize when my mind is jumbled and crazy and the darkness is winning.  I thank God for giving me a situation that forced the introduction of the medication.  I thank God that I will never be the type of mom who does the unthinkable to her children because she didn't realize that she needed help or refused to seek it.

I vow to never let my prescription lapse again.  I vow to not care if society thinks I am weak or lazy for taking antidepressants.  I vow to never think that they are the only answer for these dark feelings.  I vow to take them for as long as I need them, for myself and for my family. 

Most importantly, I vow to be honest about my use of them for other women who might think as I used to - that they just have to deal with that devil character on their shoulder telling them awful things about themselves and believing it.  I vow to talk about it because if I had known anyone else felt this same way long ago, things might have been different.  Different as they are now.  Better.

All I have ever wanted was to be happy; but I have to fight for it, and I always will.  The more I fight, the more I learn.  The more I learn, the better I get.  If that means I need some medicinal assistance, then so be it. That little white pill and I will just keep knocking that devil right off my shoulder.

Why I decided to take antidepressants and how they helped

Hubby and I recently returned from a six-day vacation in Miami - well, working vacation for him.   While he was at conferences, I shopped, sat out by the pool, walked on the beach, worked out in the fitness center, and treat of all treats, I slept in! 

Hubby and I spent time together, too. We had wonderful dinners, long talks, and shared time by the pool. We could even be intimate without the fear of anyone walking in on us. It's safe to say that after the couple tough years that we have had, we really reconnected and focused on each other. It was a much needed relaxing week.

And one in which I didn't take a single dose of my Lexapro.

Shortly after my son was diagnosed with terminal cancer, it was strongly suggested to me that I begin taking an antidepressant. At first I resisted. I really didn't think I needed it. Truthfully, I had probably battled some form of depression most of my adolescent and adult life.  Nothing really bad had ever happened to me, but still, I was never very happy.  I considered seeking the help of a therapist, but didn't want to be "medicated," as I felt there was a stigma to that.

Suddenly, I had a reason. Something bad, something horrible, was happening in my life, yet I still resisted  medication. At the urging of Hubby and my sister-in-law, who was going through a medical crisis with her own young son, I reluctantly took the pills that another sister-in-law, a nurse, had gotten for me. They did the trick as far as halting the need to run out of the room every hour to try and control my tears. I could go to my son's doctor appointments and treatments and actually deal with what the doctors were telling me. I could be functional around my other sons and be strong for them. I could answer questions about my son's illness with a little strength and grace.

It actually worked a little too well. I was taking the recommended ten milligrams per day dose, and some days I felt like a zombie, light headed and just going through the motions. Yes, it was helping me to control my emotions, but I couldn't cry even if I wanted to. In addition to the Lexapro, I was also taking Xanax to help quell anxiety.

The months after my son's funeral were, understandably, difficult.  In spite of that, I wanted to stop taking the Lexapro.  I still felt like a zombie, my mind was in a fog, and I was gaining weight (which, when you're already depressed, is, like, the last thing you need to add). I slowly decreased the amount I was taking until I wasn't taking any. I did notice a difference. Not in my weight, but in the fact that I didn't feel like such a zombie any more.

But there was something else.  I noticed a difference in the way I was dealing with my children.  I was snapping at them more readily, flying off the handle over little things, and generally not having much patience. I was also thinking about my late son a lot...and getting sad...a lot.

So I added it back into my regimin, but this time only five milligrams a few times a week (at the okay of my doctor). No zombie feeling, more patience with my kids, and the ability to remember my son with fondness and not paralyzing sadness.

Obviously, the ideal treatment for depression is a combined regimin of exercise, eating well, sleeping enough, and talking about your feelings - in short, taking care of yourself.  As all busy moms know, often our own needs take a back seat to everyone else's in our lives.  It's no excuse, but it does happen.

As I prepared to leave Miami, rested, tanned, well fed, and loved up, I opened my prescription bottle and thought, "OMG, do I really need Lexapro to deal with my own children?"

When I returned home, the answer was clear. No, I need it to deal with my life!

I was greeted by a vomiting three-year-old, a pile of mail, school papers, and forms that needed attention, an empty refrigerator, and several full laundry baskets.  I was finding spots of vomit all over the house that were overlooked by the babysitter. I had committed to make soup for the teachers' dinner on conference night (that night!) which had to be delivered at a set time, but not a set place, so I was running from place to place in the school with a heavy - and hot - crock pot in my hands followed reluctantly by three little boys, one of whom was sick and whiny and cried the whole fifteen minutes of my seven-year-old's subsequent parent-teacher conference. To top it off, Hubby had a work meeting that kept him until long after the boys were bathed and in bed. 

And that was just my first day home!

I collapsed that night. My second day greeted me after a well-rested night. The babysitter was over, and I got in some prenatal yoga and pilates with a trainer at my gym and time to run errands child- and stress- free. I actually sat down to a healthy lunch (that almost never happens!) and felt great the rest of the day.  All without that little five milligrams of Lexapro. Obviously, Day Two was a much better scenario for my mental health.

However, with child #5 on the way, still desperately missing child #1, concerns over my and the baby's health, issues with my other sons, lack of time with Hubby, and so on and so on, I don't know when life is going to get less hectic. I don't know when eating well and sleeping enough and getting exercise and regular intimacy (or even just a simple conversation with Hubby!) are going to become status quo again in my life. I envy women who can balance it all - make taking care of themselves, instead of worrying about the laundry and the vomit, a priority. 

Until such a day comes for me, I will continue with the Lexapro because it's just how I deal with everything that life is throwing at me right now. And when I can "deal," I seem to be a much better mom, wife, and friend.

Read here about why I decided to continue taking antidepressants during pregnancy.

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