PPD and PTSD
Anyone who knows me knows I love TV. I mean. I LOOOOOOOVE TV. I love getting caught up in the made-up stories on TV and actively NOT think about my life. Not that my life is bad, per se, it’s my escape. My guilty pleasure.
Last night, watching TV (whoa!), more specifically, Private Practice, I was really impressed with the story line there. For those of you who don’t watch the show, the psychiatrist/psychologist (not sure which) was pregnant last season. The season finale was her getting her baby stolen via C-section, in her own home, by her psychotic patient. Yeah. They left it right there! I was angry for about 2 weeks that they left it at such a cliffhanger. Anyway, back to the point. So this season, Violet (the psych), is struggling with some serious PTSD and PPD (Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and Post-partum depression for those of you not in the know). As a doctor of the human mind, she is well-aware of her psychological status, and yet, cannot just “pull it together.” The end of the episode, she gave the baby to one of the possible dads. (Long, confusing plot line, I know, just run with it, OK?)
What impressed me the most was the depiction of someone dealing with these disorders. The fact that she couldn’t just “snap out of it” was something that needed to be brought to light. These are diseases. Not just a “frame of mind.” You cannot just “get over it.” When something so traumatic happens in your life, not everyone can deal with the emotions of these traumas so easily.
For me, 18 years after the start of my abuse, 14 years after it ended, I still get nightmares. My husband can hardly stand quietly behind my back without me jumping out of my skin when I find him there. If he waits outside the bathroom door for me to come out (only 1 bathroom in the Insane Asylum), it scares the shit out of me. I know it’s not rational, he’s my husband and would never be there waiting to hurt me, but it’s really scary to me.
After I had S, I spent a great deal of time on the couch. It wasn’t until Mr. B asked me to go dancing with him and I turned him down that he realized something was really, really wrong. (Mr. B does NOT dance and I can’t get him to take me most of the time.) He finally sat me down (which wasn’t hard to do since, like I said, I didn’t leave the couch) and said he thought I was depressed and needed to go see someone and maybe get some medication. PPD is quite common among women, but to a sexual abuse victim who had just had a daughter, the PTSD kicks in a little harder. That was about the time that I started having flashbacks. Times with my poor, dear, Mr. B that I wish had never happened. I was scared to be touched, sexually. Every thing felt like I was being used. He stuck by me. Something that a lot of men would not have done.
With A, it was a lot easier to notice the signs of the PPD and seek help before it got serious. Actually, I was on anti-depressants for most of my pregnancy because the anxiety from the PTSD was so huge that there were days I could barely make it through without a major anxiety attack.
If you want my completely unsolicited advice (why else would you be here, right?), it would be that if you even think you’re struggling with either of these illnesses, or worse, both, seek some help. Quickly. You don’t have to be the crazy lady in the closet who spills her coffee and hides whenever the doorbell rings. Or the woman who has to pass keys to the house through the mail slot to her closest friends. Or, more seriously, who cannot bond with her baby. (And while I may sound glib, I’m being very serious. It’s not healthy.) There is help. Below are some resources.
http://tinyurl.com/jesuslovesyouthisiknow
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