In the last two years, I went through a terrible issue of Depression and Anxiety. I didn’t know that was what it was until I was starting to come out of it. I’d like to describe a little bit of my descent, how I survived, and the recovery.
The pre-beginning was the announcement of our move to San Angelo, TX. I had become quite enamored with a more agrarian style of living…or the idea of it anyway. As a homeschooler, there is a wonderful movement toward a more simple and quite historic way of living. These ideas are ideas of order in the home (who wouldn’t love that?) a healthy relation between Father, Mother, and various aged children. It reflects on a time when families truly had solidarity. There were great benefits to families working as teams for the benefit of each other and those in need in the community. As a latch-key kid, child of divorce with the TV often as a babysitter, one can see how these ideas would be very attractive.
So, along with some other ideas in theology (which we still hold) we began attending a family-integrated church. Parts of it were awesome! The families were wonderful and genuine people. The worship was very fulfilling (not that fulfilling is the idea, but it was nice). Our daughter was nine and our son was close to two. This is when we began to notice problems. Our son just couldn’t “get with the program” and play along with the idea in my head of this wonderful family order. Please, dear reader, do not misunderstand: I expected him to be a two year old boy. I expected him to talk, ask questions, need distractions, etc.. However, the constant tantrums, the inability for any parenting “method” to speak to him and teach/train him as to what was expected was more than frustrating! He was difficult even for a two year old.
So, our announcement of the move came and with it another announcement: I was expecting our third child. How marvelous! An exciting adventure in a new place, a new baby, more homeschooling-which I love. Woo-Hoo! We moved when I was three months pregnant. We found a house to rent in a great neighborhood. My husband began his new assignment. I found a great midwife whom I trusted completely… the tantrums continued.
In November our third son was born. He was beautiful! The birth was amazing! Right after that, we began trying the Feingold diet for our other son. (It avoids food dyes, salicylates, and certain preservatives.) We saw a bit of an improvement. We were encouraged. However, when, by April-his fourth birthday- he was still having the awful tantrums, we knew it was time to start asking questions.
In short, through the next two years, we learned that our son was on the autism spectrum, has a mal-growth of his brain, needed a very strict diet: gfcf and did not ever get any real sleep, even when he did sleep. No wonder his usual answer to stress was to scream and throw whatever was in his hand. He would have “laughing seizures” and my daughter would have to take the baby so I could hold my son until he was done with his “fit”.
I developed a terrible depression. All my hopes, dreams, ideals, everything just crashed and burned. I cried for weeks. I slept. I cooked, but didn’t like to do so. Recognizing that I was NOT myself, I tried to reach out a bit. I joined some online communities regarding autism, gluten-free and more. But still I suffered. I didn’t want to hurt myself, but I just wished I could lay down and die. I went to mydoctor again and again. On a six week rotation, I would go into his office and say, “I’m tired and my hair is falling out. I’m stressed.” Then, I would start crying. My doctor sent me to a dermatologist for the hair, ran thyroid panels and told me to get a counselor.
My dermatologist told me to take Biotin, the thyroid panels were perfect, and no counselors were available. Finally, my dear husband had a dear, dear friend call me and all she said was, “How are you” and I started crying uncontrollably. Fortunately for me, my dear friend was the wife of the Senior Protestant Chaplain on base. The two of them came over. He gave me counseling sessions, contacted my doctor, and got me the help I really needed; compassion and even some medication.
After years of being on the “alert” for my son’s tantrums to help him not hurt others… My stress level was sky high! There was never a break because I couldn’t trust anyone else to watch him. San Angelo is not a large town and with his bizarre behavior, I found it difficult to be connected. My two saving graces were my neighbors and my MOPS group. (Mothers of Preschoolers).
We finally moved back to San Antonio thanks to the Air Force and by this time, both my son and I were on special diets and medication to assist us. I am happy to say that now, months later, my medication is down to almost nothing. My son is much better, but the real story here is what I learned from this which will be in the next post….. To be continued….
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