Friday, September 5, 2014

Sometimes You CAN Ask for Help

Those who know me well know I don't keep much to myself....

I do worry that sometimes I over share, but then I get positive feedback on a blog post from an unexpected source. My hope in sharing this story is that I explain the past 6 months of my life and perhaps help someone along the way. This May, I had the opportunity to hear Brene Brown speak about vulnerability. In a room full of 6,000+ nurses, I felt like she was speaking to me. I have often tried to "do it all", and do it on my own....without asking for help or admitting to vulnerabilities. Tommy and my family have always been an unwavering source of support for my endeavors (whether it was Hurricane Katrina relief, or school, or professional endeavors), but I never really relinquished control or asked for help. While I have a longtime love of Wonder Woman, when people have jokingly called me that I think to myself "if only they knew what a mess I can be". After hearing Brene Brown, I felt permission to share more of my vulnerabilities and to acknowledge that I am by no means perfect. 

Yes I do a lot...and am involved in a lot, but so many times I feel like I have dropped a ball. One of my greatest challenges is feeling like a good and supportive friend to some of the amazing women in my life... I don't think I show some of them nearly enough how important they are to me. This resulted this Spring in the loss of a friendship that I had always considered dear. 

This February, I tried an antidepressant (amitriptyline) to treat my migraines. I asked my headache specialist what the side effects were if I wasn't depressed. It turns out that irritability is the big issue. I made it about a week before my co-worker held an intervention. I was downright nasty at times on the med. (Some might say it wasn't the med...)

The following month, I developed really significant PMS symptoms. I have had hormone issues before, but I felt downright depressed. Every month, it got a little worse, until I had 3-4 days of feeling clinically depressed  and anxious every month. By July, I was feeling very distraught about it. While depression carries with it a stigma for some people, I felt surprisingly unthreatened by the idea of asking for help. I just wanted help. I did research and realized it was probably Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD). Literally PMS on crack. Over the course of a few days, I melted down to Tommy and my family, and made an appointment with my MD. I went into the appointment with the goal of describing my symptoms, but not self-diagnosing. My MD is very well respected among staff in the hospital, but I have never loved her more than I did that day. She immediately said "I think it is PMDD". I cried with relief when she said "You have been trying to deal with this for you want to try a medication?" I'm not a fan of throwing medications at every problem, but I knew that is what I needed. Zoloft (sertraline) is indicated for the treatment of PMDD, so we went with that. She told me that it wouldn't eliminate the problem, but significantly improve my threshold for dealing with the symptoms. When I thanked her profusely for her help, she said "You did the hard work by showing up, I just wrote the prescription." This is my doctor but also a colleague whose patients I care for on a regular basis. To leave there feeling just as competent and respected as I did when I walked in meant the world to me. 

One month later, I weathered my hormones in much better fashion. I know that I am getting off easy in comparison to people who struggle with depression every day of the month. I also know that there may be more difficult months ahead. This will certainly be a journey, but being able to ask for help was a HUGE first step. A pivotal moment for me came this week when a patient's family member asked "Are you always this perky?" I'm glad to have my perkiness back. 

This concludes my oversharing, but if you are one of those "balls" I dropped along the way, or one of the people who put up with me through some of my least desirable moments, I'm Sorry, and THANK YOU for sticking around.