Diagnosis Road: Courtney's story (depression, anxiety, ADD, PTSD)

Hi all, author of this blog here.  I'm going to write my own story about diagnoses on the same day I received them! That's me on the left with Asher, Zoe, Willow and my husband, Isaac

In high school, something shifted in my my junior year.  I started getting anxious and overthinking everything.  I remember exactly when it happened. We were singing the Star Spangled Banner before taking the stage to compete in a cheerleading competition and suddenly I thought, "oh my gosh, what am I doing????  I can't do this!  I can't go out in front of everyone and perform and hope I don't fall on my face doing this full and what if I screw up holding a WHOLE PERSON ABOVE MY HEAD???? I don't remember the routine! Why are we doing this?????" 

I felt sick to my stomach and I didn't think I would be able to do it.  I thought of quitting right then.  But I did it anyway and I don't remember a second of it.  I had some moments like that in the coming years, but mostly it manifested in drawing away from friends/the public and I didn't even realize I was doing it.  

Then another major shift came my junior year of college.  I had no motivation.  For anything.  I couldn't finish papers, I put off every assignment until the last minute and made countless excuses for why I suddenly couldn't "do" college. My senior year was terrible, but I made it out with a B.A. in English Writing. 

In January of 2016 (yes, THIRTEEN years later) I made the decision to see a psychiatrist.  I'd taken medication for various things (anxiety, depression) before, but always just kind of casually thrown at me by my PCP or my OBGYN before I even left he hospital after giving birth.  No real follow up and I always gave up when I either felt better, saw no difference or got tired of taking them.

I've lived with anxiety, panic attacks, bouts of depression and lack of motivation and concentration for most of my life. They aren't always together, but much like a wrestler slapping the hand of another exiting the ring, there was constant changing of issues.  It really amped up in late high school and college. I've had two doctors tell me that I'm a classic case of ADD and to seek help. I didn't. 

Cut to late September 2016, when I finally DID make that phone call.  January to September. It only took nearly the length for a baby to grow and be born.  Imagine that...  

I called and they said I needed a referral. In my head I heard, "oh, you need to be referred for this service.  Call your primary care physician, pay him a good co-pay too, and he can send a sheet of paper to us stating that he deems you worthy of our services. I mean we NOR your insurance can just trust that you actually know your needs better than we do, right?  Mmm'hmmm, k'bye." 

So I make ANOTHER phone call (I hate phone calls, hence the waiting the length of human gestation to make one) and tell them what I need and of course I have to come in for an appointment. Because of our medically complex life filled with appointments and therapies and stuff it took 2 weeks to get in, even for the referral.

I went to the referral, expecting a short visit just making sure why I needed the referral, but instead I got some really good information from Dr Ben Allen, my new PCP. You see, going on medicine isn't as cut and dry for me as other people. I fear medicines because of how they've affected me in the past.  Any medicines except Tylenol. Years ago, I had a migraine that wouldn't go away, so I went to the ER where I got a steroid shot (Decadron). The only way I can explain it, is that it attached onto my adrenaline and wouldn't let go.  I spent three whole days pacing, I literally couldn't sit down. At all.  Ever. My face swelled up and got red and my muscles...you could see them rolling. It took 3 more ER trips and 6 months to get to sleep without Ativan and Haldol because of the panic. It's when my panic attacks really started coming more often. I haven't been the same since.  I wrote about it here.

Two years ago, I tried to go on Zoloft and I convinced myself that it was affecting my body in the same way and I immediately gave up after being in the fetal position, panicking on day three. I knew going in this time, along with depression and anxiety, I was probably dealing with some medical post traumatic stress from Asher's issues, but Dr. Allen brought up something I hadn't considered.  I was probably suffering from some post traumatic issues from that Decadron shot. That made sense.

He referred me to a psychiatrist, but knowing it would take up to a month to get in, he offered to prescribe me a very low dose of Zoloft to have in the meantime. I decided to go for it.  I told him of my fears and he also prescribed a medicine that would calm me down if my anxiety got too much so that I could get through this first phase of me making up side effects haha. That second medicine is actually an antihistamine that works better for anxiety than as a antihistamine.

In spite of my fears, I took that first pill. Zoloft down the hatch. It was weird that even though I knew I was going to freak out from made up symptoms that the pill was killing me, it didn't stop it from happening. I knew that, too.  Minds are weirrrrrrrd. 

Day 1 went ok, but I woke up in the middle of the night in a full on panic attack.  It lasted for one hour and I told the panic, have your way with me and I'll go to sleep when you're finished.  I waited it out and eventually fell asleep.

Day 2, we went to Cincinnati for Willow's follow up neurologist appointment. I was so nervous that morning and felt pretty groggy that afternoon, but I got through it.

Day 3, the morning went great but around 11, I started to feel groggy.  I laid down for a few hours and when I woke up, I felt so panicky.  My throat was constricting (which is something that happens with my panic) and I had convinced myself that I was suffering from anaphylaxis and that two things would happen.  

1. I would ignore it, assuming that I was imagining it and I would die. 
2. I would believe myself and end up looking like an idiot in the ER, wasting a lot of my family's time and money. 

I kept sitting on the couch over analyzing until I called my friend who convinced me to take this journey in the first place and cried and panicked on the phone.  At this point, you're probably thinking, "hey crazy pants, why didn't you just take the other pill to calm your anxiety?" I was too scared to take it.  

Ha!  Ironic, right?  I was scared that it would have the opposite effect and it would end up being like the Decadron and it would never ever get out of my system and my life would be ruined. I kept telling myself, "but it's an antihistamine, if this is an allergic reaction, it will only help," but I wouldn't listen to myself. My friend said, "I'm coming over, you can take the 2nd pill and we'll drive close to the hospital so that if you die, we'll be close." Ha!  So she did and as soon as I got off the phone, my throat slowly stopped spasming.  She came over, I took the pill, we drove, I eventually laughed and it was ok.

It was so important to me to stick with the Zoloft long enough for it to have a full effect and she promised to stick with me through it all, good and bad.  I made it.  We made it.

Day 4 went ok.  I felt some weird panic feelings in my body, but it also felt...good? I don't know how to explain it.  Almost like nervous excitement. And that was it.

After day 4, all I experienced was some decreased appetite and then after that it evened out.  It didn't help with anxiety and depression at that dose, but also...it didn't MURDER ME!  I call that success. 

Cut to today. 

Today I went to see a psychologist to better understand myself and find out where to go from here.  I spoke with him, I took some tests, we talked some more, he looked at my words and compared them to my tests results and said I have: 

severe depression

severe anxiety

severe attention deficit disorder (ADD)

PTSD

For those of you that don't know, we have medically complex children.  Asher has epilepsy, food allergies, asthma, ADHD and a visual processing disorder. Two of those issues have landed us in the ER more times than I can count and he's almost died a few times.  Our youngest who is three has developmental delays and sensory processing disorder. It makes my issues more intense, as you can imagine.  (I'll write about that more later, this blog is to just lay the out the story and name the diagnosis)

I'll continue to talk about this path I'm on because I think it's important.  It's important for you to know that it's ok to be on medicine and it's ok to seek help and it's ok to see a therapist.  More than ok...it's needed. 

This month, I'll see a psychiatrist to adjust my meds and then next month I start active therapy. What all of this affects most is my motivation and my concentration. I desperately want that to change. I'm irritable, I'm scared of things that don't make sense.  I'm scared of things that DO make sense.  I want to need to leave the house and just...gasp..leave the house! I think there's a Courtney within me that I've never met and I want to introduce you to her soon.  

When I texted Isaac the results, he asked, "do you really feel that bad?"  I had to think of the answer for a long time.  It's just that I think I don't even realize what it would be like to feel better. I want to know. I've always felt like the base level of who I am as a person is depression and anxiety and I keep piling on layers hoping to cover it enough to feel normal, but that base layer affects everything.  I can't just cover it up. I need to get out the friggin' jack hammer, remove the layers and start with something new.  

These weirdos are going along on the ride with me, so pray for them haha