Into My Brain

I thought of a decent way to describe what it feels like going from stable and happy to depressed. Mostly I'm pretty proud of myself for thinking this up.

Normally, a person's brain works like a railroad track. The track allows trains to transport things from one place to another. Taking that imagery to apply to the mind, the train symbolizes the chemicals interacting with one another to keep one's emotions stable. Sometimes we feel angry, scared, or sad, but these chemicals travel from point A in the brain to point B, helping us sort through and get through these emotions. A normal, non-depressed person's brain would look something like this in our imagery:

The chemicals can travel smoothly along their "track," so to speak.

Sometimes, my brain can resemble this. Everything is held together, and the chemicals can travel and interact with different parts of the brain easily. However, sometimes, something slips. A railroad spike comes loose, or a rail gets warped. Eventually, my brain looks more like this:

With no track to go on, the chemicals get "lost." They don't interact with the parts of the brain they need to, and it's like a train wreck happens in my mind. Once the damage has been done, the only thing I can do is try to fix it. As I take care of myself and do what I need to do, take proper types and dosages of my anti-depressants, slowly, my train track gets fixed. Sometimes I need help from friends and family to fix it. Sometimes I need the help of psychologists to help sort out the mess and rebuild my train track.

I thought this was pretty good.

On another note, I've been feeling much better than I was before. Having the support of friends and family has helped more than I can express, and I'd like to express my gratitude at all those who reached out to me when I wasn't feeling well. That's not to say I won't become depressed again later on, but for now, I'm pretty stable. I even got excited about having a cute little girl, so I made a cute little headband and a cute little hat! Needless to say, my daughter is going to be the absolute cutest thing ever.

Diaper Dillema

Alright ladies who have babies, I have a question for you:

I've been contemplating the use of cloth diapers. I've heard both good and bad things about them, and my dilemma lies in cost. Looking at our finances, we need to cut corners about everywhere. Cloth diapers could save us a TON of money. My question is, how many people have used cloth diapers, which ones are best, and how long do they last? Help me, please!

Cinnamon Pancakes, Yard Sale Goodies

This post is going in a completely different direction than where I have been going lately. I just wanted to say that I had a craving for pancakes this morning, and put some cinnamon in the batter. In a nutshell, I make a delicious pancake.

Also, we found an ad on KSL for free baby clothes! This family who lives a few blocks away from us had a yard sale, and were giving away the leftover stuff. We scored BIG on baby clothes. (Anya will look like a boy sometimes, but she won't have much of a say in the matter.) Daniel also found the CUTEST stuffed bunnies! It's a plush Mommy bunny holding a baby bunny. We both squealed for the cuteness factor. (Note: by "squeal," I mean Daniel said, "Oh, how cute," in a very manly way.)

Too Hot To Sleep

I feel stable today. I'm not better from this downswing yet, but I am feeling pretty stable. I'm able to feel, which is a huge difference from numbing myself from all feeling whatsoever.

I've been thinking about this pregnancy quite a bit. I haven't really told anyone these thoughts except Daniel. He's so trustworthy when it comes to my feelings. He never looks at me with a stunned or horrified expression when I tell him things. He never laughs, unless I'm trying to be funny, of course. He has been my anchor, and I love him very much for that.

When I first found out about the pregnancy, you'd think that I'd be jumping for joy and going crazy, right? I mean, we'd been trying for a while, told I would be incapable of conceiving without the help of fertility treatments, and had pretty much given up for the time being. I felt very uncomfortable with the idea of fertility treatments since there is no guarentee that they will work. We couldn't afford them yet anyway, but I really didn't like the idea of forcing my body to done something it seems unwilling to do. I had graciously accepted that pregnancy would probably never be part of my life. We had talked about having kids, and together decided that adoption was a miracle and wonderful option for us when we were more stable financially. Getting pregnant seemed like the answer to our prayers.

In reality, I took two pregnancy tests, and didn't believe the results of either. A third pregnancy test confirmed Anya's existence to me. While Daniel beamed with happiness, lavishing me with love and attention in excitement for having a child, I retreated into myself. I didn't smile for the first couple of weeks. Part of me didn't want a baby right now. A bigger part of me knew the pain of losing a baby, and I knew that my body had a good chance of rejecting the pregnancy. I kept thinking, "Why be happy for something that's either already dead or will be in a week or so?"

It's not that I didn't want her at all. I found out a few days before the Spring Semester started, and was worried that I'd have to withdraw if I miscarried or, if by some miracle kept the baby through the first trimester, was too sick to go to school. Mostly, I didn't want to have to put my life on hiatus because of some depression-triggering, traumatic event.

Every time I went to the bathroom, I expected to see blood. Every time I went to the bathroom, though, there wasn't any. Then I went in for a 7-week ultrasound. I knew they would find something wrong, give me the sympathetic look, and tell me, "I'm sorry..." However, something else happened. I saw Anya's heartbeat. It was strong and healthy. I didn't want to let myself feel any relief, but there she was, seemingly happy in her water-balloon of a home.

Three weeks later, the doctor told us she was perfectly healthy at 10 weeks. Her heartbeat was strong, and she was growing at a very normal rate. I didn't want to tell anyone until our 20 week ultrasound, just to make sure everything was still fine at that time, but Daniel was bursting at the seams with excitement, and told friends and family the second his persistence at wearing me down on that one paid off.

I didn't feel anything toward her besides a respect for her life, and a worry that I would do something to jeopardize that life. I wasn't excited, though. I didn't really look at baby items and squeal for some time. I didn't really talk to her or have Daniel feel my belly unless he wanted to. I went to school, did my homework, threw up a lot, and tried not to think about the future. I didn't talk to anyone about my fears and doubts concerning pregnancy, since I was afraid of being scrutinized by the only people I had to talk to. If I imagined talking about this, I saw them saying, "Why would you not want a baby? You should feel ______" I didn't want my feelings brushed aside. I wanted someone to hold me and say, "I understand how you feel. I'll help you as much as I can."

I felt guilty and sad about the pregnancy. I felt guilty because of how almost indifferent I felt toward my child. I felt sad because I felt as if I had once again lost control of my life.

Today, my mind keeps circling around the beginning of my pregnancy. I feel better about the pregnancy itself now, and actually just want to hold my little lady, count her fingers and toes, stroke her soft skin, and fall in love with that fact that she's mine. Before, I didn't feel good. Maybe I feel guilty for not being excited for her. My reasoning makes sense, and if someone else were in my shoes, I'd probably say that the feelings they had are normal, and that it's okay to feel that way, knowing how viable the pregnancy could be. I don't think I have a need to forgive myself since, honestly, I don't feel that I've done anything wrong.

Maybe my fear and sadness now lie in the fact that I feel the need to have others forgive me. This seems totally ridiculous now that I'm saying it, but it may very well be the thing plaguing my mind right now. I love being LDS, but sometimes LDS culture can seem very closed-minded. I'm afraid that my LDS friends and relatives will think I committed some "great sin." Whether or not they think that doesn't really matter in the long run. I don't go to church just to see friends. I go to church because I feel it inspires me to come closer to the Lord. I guess I just don't want to deal with the looks that people may or may not be giving me. (I say that since I know the looks can be completely in my head.) I guess I want to be accepted for who I am, no strings attached. I'm afraid of people, but maybe that's why I feel I'm not accepted. Maybe I assume they will reject me, so I reject them before they reject me. I am who I am, and I know that Jesus loves me. I know that my husband loves me for who I am, everything about me inclusive.

I think that's why I wanted to blog tonight. I wanted to lay a piece of me out on the table as it is, and let people think what they want about me. I wanted to say, "screw it to feeling scared about what other people think." I don't like having skeletons in the closet. They take up too much space.

Depression. Serious Post.

Today, it's okay to admit that I have been struggling pretty deeply with depression lately. Today, it's okay to admit to the world that I don't feel well, and just want to lie back down and go to sleep until this is over. I'm not suicidal today. I haven't been for about three years. I'm thankful for that.

I know that I'm depressed, and there is no hiding from it. If I try, I'll totally sink under it. I don't want to sink. I'm going to use this blog for a little while as a way to stay connected with reality. If someone outside me can read what I feel, then what I feel is real.


This started before we went to Nevada, and therefore before my Dad was in the hospital. The events which took place in Nevada served as a distraction from my own feelings. Then when I wasn't needed anymore and came home, my depression slipped back in. It never truly goes away. I have good days, but depression itself is something I will struggle with probably for the rest of my life. Through the miracle of anti-depressants, my good days last longer and are more productive. However, if I forget to take them regularly or once I build up a tolerance to the medication I'm currently on, they lose their effect, and I'm very likely to become depressed again.

I'm not angry about any of this. I'm not saddened, either. Depression is part of my life. It's something that comes and we deal with. It's something that can be treated and maintained, but not cured in this life. I understand the power of the atonement, but I also know the will of the Lord concerning this through personal revelation.


For now, I feel isolated and alone. I can't remember how to communicate properly with others. If someone reaches out to me, it's almost impossible to feel their love, although I do crave the love others show. When I think of others, I see them looking down on me and scrutinizing my every action. I'm very afraid of the ones I need to help me get better.

Now that I've said that, I feel less antsy. I'm afraid of the people who love me, which prevents me from getting help, which further encourages my depression.

When I feel like writing again, I will. I need to know that I'm not alone right now.

Anya's Personality

We've noticed a few distinct things about our little girl so far, which include:

1. Severe stubbornness. When she finds a comfortable place to be, there is NO moving her. Poking her, singing to her, talking to her, making loud noises to try to scare her, and pushing her feet away are all futile. Yesterday, I even tried getting up to go to the bathroom while she was in her comfy place, and she threw herself into the ab muscles I was using, causing me to fall back to where I was.
2. Fascination with her feet and the things they touch. She seems to love squirming around and touching things with her cute little feet. Daddy's hands and arms are particular favorites
3. A strong appriciation for spicy food. Since being pregnant, it doesn't really give me heartburn or indigestion. Once it hits Anya, she makes her happy movements. She is SO my father's grandchild.

We Went To Get A Dryer Vent Hose And...

We ended up at the thrift store down the street. We found a pretty nice reclining chair which Daniel was sure he could carry home. We then discovered it comes apart, and we could actually fit it in the car! This is what our car looked like with a full sized chair in the back:

We decided to go back inside to look at baby clothing, and got a little excited. At least Anya is going to look cute! And since our little lady is a bit unavailable to model for us, my belly and Daddy got suckered in to showing off her new clothes.

An explanation on this one: Daniel's hand is Anya's head, and his finger is Anya smiling since she has a cute hat.












This is what our new chair looks like now that it's all set up:

Oh, and Daniel's new tie matches the chair.

All in all, we spent about $20. We rock!