I have been medicated for almost two weeks. “They” say that it takes about 21 days for any new treatment to really make a difference. Hopefully “they” are right, because while I do feel much better and Cody hasn’t come home to me crumpled in a corner sobbing for two weeks…I still feel as though I am watching instead of fully participating in my life.

You need to give yourself time to get better. I need to give myself time to get better. In a perfectly medicated world I would be able to take a pill and 2 to 3 hours later be fully participating in life. Like when I would take vicodin tylenol for cramps. But the brain doesn’t work that way. Emotions don’t work that way. The best way I can think to describe it is when Addie was six weeks old I tried to go out for a night of dancing, dining and general merriment. I could barely keep myself upright. Babies eat your abdominal muscles for lunch and just because the baby has been out for six weeks doesn’t mean your abdominals are back to their pre baby dancing shape. It would be ridiculous to think otherwise.

The same with depression. It eats your brain for lunch, knocks you to your knees and until you hit rock bottom where the ground is cold and hard and slimy you can’t begin to work your way back up. Even more importantly you can’t work your way back out quickly. Even with medication.

Imagine being trapped in a 1,000 foot jello mold with nothing but a toothpick to get yourself out. You can see a blurry reality through the jello and so you start digging your way out with your toothpick. If you have someone supporting you, your toothpick can be bumped up to a chopstick. If you choose to go to a doctor for help your chopstick becomes a plastic spoon. As you continue on with your therapy your plastic spoon becomes a wooden spoon and soon it turns into a ladle. Digging has become easier, but you still have a lot of digging to do to make it to the sunshine on the other side.

Right now I feel as though I have a sturdy wooden spoon in my hand (I also suddenly have an insatiable craving for red jello) and I can’t thank the friends around me who have jumped into the jello with me with their toothpicks made up of dinners, encouraging notes, baked goods and emails that have helped me dig my way out with just a little more spunk.

I have to remind myself that I have a lot of people relying on me to get this right. Especially mozzi. To try and speed up my recovery wouldn’t be fair to her. I have to heal properly. I have to recover as fully as I can. I have to be whole when she’s placed in my arms.

A giant jello mold is no place for babies.

Comments

  1. Thanks for sharing, lady. Thinking of you in Indy today!

  2. I think you are on the right track. You know it is a process. It is no fun to live in a jello mold. Thinking of you.

  3. You are doing it Casey. You are.

    Each day, hopefully it will get a bit sunnier. I have complete faith in you.

    Also? Am always around if you need someone to chat with. xoxo

  4. Very very good description of what many of us are going through. One week back on my meds and I feel like I have chopstick in my hands….wish it was a ladle.

    I hope you can start feeling more like yourself soon.

  5. “A giant jello mold is no place for babies.” What a fabulous line. I always tank AFTER I have a baby, so still in the same realm. I like your description of how it feels to dig yourself out. Being able to sorta see it, and having the tools of meds and docs doesn’t make the digging any easier. It took my husband quite some time to realize that I would have to stay on my meds for most of the rest of my life (except right now I’m weaning off so I can try for one last baby). Once I finally had the right diagnosis (bipolar) and the right meds (mood stabilizers, anti-depressants, etc.) and got myself back to normal, he kept asking when I would go off the meds since I was okay again. He finally understood when I told him I would just tank again and then have to spend another however-many months digging my way out of the hole. Why do the roller-coaster of on-meds, off-meds when I can (and should) just stay on them and maintain an even keel? I hope this time you will be able to do the same…

  6. Keep digging! I’m over here, waving and jiggling the jello – head this way.

  7. Casey, you put a voice to what so many others feel. Keep digging and know that there are so many people praying for you and sending good wishes your way.

  8. Hugs to you mama. You described it oh so well, what an image. I like jello too, but not being at the bottom of the cup. Here’s to you clearing the top soon, slowly, yes, but feeling a little better ever day. Your writing these are helping so many people, I think it’s amazing that you can. take it easy on yourself. xx Triciax

  9. Mmmm… jello.

    Is it wrong that the whole jello analogy had me thinking about Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs through your entire post?

    See. GREAT friends you have. ;)

    I love you and I would eat VATS of jello to help you break through the mold.

    Mold and jello. See what this comment has been reduced to?

    I love you, Casey. Tons.

  10. I’m slowly reading my way through your blog. Thus far I have come to a few conclusions: 1. You have mad photo skills 2. You are pretty brave and awesome to share your stories 3. I like what I read.

    Thank you for being so real.

  11. I love that Jello analogy. Now if only I could come up with a way to describe clinical depression to Mike; he doesn’t get it if it’s not situational.

    Hugs to you. You will make it through!

  12. I don’t know – a giant jello mold might be the place for delicious fruit babies!

  13. “I have to be whole when she’s placed in my arms.”

    Tears. With the tears. At work, tears. <3

    I am so looking forward to seeing a photo of your glowing face when she's placed in your arms.

    Sending you wishes of wholeness.

  14. Great post! I’ve recently found your blog and I need to start reading back “episodes”. Your jello analogy is perfect! Fortunately for me, I have found the right medication that has allowed me to break free from the jello. But, it does take a while for the full effects to take hold. It is so going to be better once the meds fully “kick in”. Good luck wishes to you.

  15. I was thinking about you on the way home… was planning on dropping you a note. And then this lovely post.

    I’m so happy for your sturdy wooden spoon… your analogy is a good one… :)

    P.S. I just noticed your copyright needs to be updated. (I’m SO an editor, aren’t I?)

  16. Saying prayers for you to keep feeling better and better!

    And also… red jello, really?? Lime is so much better.

  17. I love the comparison to jello… except now I want jello too.

    Does Addie watch Phineas and Ferb? We recently watched the episode where Dr. Doofenshmirtz accidentally makes a jello mold “ee-vil” and then it eats Candace.

    Oh…Candace TOTALLY escapes with the help of her family and friends.

  18. <3

  19. Keep scooping! Your girls are lucky to have such a special momma :) I hope the jello mountain melts away soon. I’ll keep praying for jello-less days ahead.

    Oh,and her quilt is coming along nicely!

  20. I’m so impressed that you’re here, and your’e sharing it.

    I’m recovering from a months-long depression and I hid from everyone, even my online community. The way you’re doing it is much healthier!

    I hope you feel better very soon.

  21. So, not to completely dismiss the serious tone of your post, but I had to chuckle about you using jello as your analogy since you’re LDS ;)

  22. In the shower this morning I realized that for the first time in several weeks, I wasn’t dreading the day. I wasn’t aching to just crawl back in to bed and sleep. I actually wanted to get up, be up, clean my house, be with my kids.

    I also realized that this is fleeting. That being healed right this second doesn’t mean healed forever. That the fight isn’t over, there’s just a lull right now.

    You are so brave and so good for being honest about your battle. I admire that so much about you. Hopefully that wooden spoon will get you out in due time and you’ll see the sunshine again.

  23. Jell-o is an excellent analogy.

    I am glad to hear that you have your wooden spoon & know that here for you whenever you need it.

    Looking forward to seeing you next week.

  24. I am so glad that you are feeling at least somewhat better. xo

  25. So many of us out here thinking of you, supporting you, and wishing nothing but the best for you. <3

  26. Amy in StL says:

    My assignment for this evening is to make jello shots for a birthday party tomorrow. I’m 40 and I’ve never made jello shots before; but now I’m pretty sure they’re going to be cherry jello.

  27. You said exactly how I feel. You said it so well. Thank you

    Amber

  28. Paula schuck says:

    This is the second really brave post I have read today. The other was by mommywantsvodka. Beautiful description. Good for you for recognizing what you need. It is very hard to be patient through the process of healing, whether physical, emotional, mental health or psychological. I don’t know you well but this is a lively post and I bet it helped a lot of people today. I hope things continue to improve for you.

    Paula

  29. That jello analogy is the best description of depression that I’ve ever seen. And I plan to share it.(with credit!)

    I always liken depression to trying to walk and function underwater, but the idea of digging yourself out definitely lends itself to the jello.

    Hope the digging goes quickly.

  30. i get it. i totally get. love.

  31. i hear you.

  32. Hang in there. I’m rooting and praying for you.

  33. hand me a toothpick…i’ll help you dig, my friend.

  34. As always you describe things so perfectly. The next time I’m stuck in jello, I’m just going to direct my family and friends to this post.

    (((HUGS)))

  35. I know depression is tough. I went through a severe depression when I was a teenager and I’ve watched my dad struggle with depresison since he was diagnosed with cancer in 2001. He’s doing much better now thanks to therapy and the proper medications. Hang in there. I’ll keep you in my prayers.

  36. beautifully raw. i’m sorry i didn’t know when i met you this week, or i would have hugged you a little tighter and whispered in your ear that it’s gonna be ok. i know.
    you site is beautiful, and your photography…. oh my. what an inspiration.
    xo

  37. Love the jello analogy. It’s the perfect description. All your posts are so amazingly written. Thank you for being so honest about your depression. It helps to know there are others out there.

    Just found your blog today and am enjoying every word of it.

Trackbacks

  1. [...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Casey-moosh in indy. and Tricia, Daniel Incandela. Daniel Incandela said: You're wonderful RT @mooshinindy: new post. http://bit.ly/fLUCUf how to be depressed. part 2. (or the one about the jello) [...]