Mental Health speaking. Can I place you on a brief hold?
** Disclaimer - This is going to be a long post. I felt compelled to write this particular blog after one of my favorite Beauty Vloggers (RawBeautyKristi) tweeted about a doctor appointment that she waited 6 months for. 6 months just to have a doctor dismiss her 5 minutes into the appointment. It made me realize that what I experienced while trying to get help with postpartum depression is what a lot of others go through. It doesn't have to be. **
This is exactly what we do to ourselves. This is what we do with our mental health. We place that bitch on hold and hope that if we ignore her long enough that she'll hang up & not call back for a while. We avoid having to deal with her as if she's an ex that you see in the grocery store. You know the one. The ex that you end up taking a hard left down another aisle and pray that they didn't see you out of their peripherals. Whether we struggle with our mental health every day or just one in a blue moon, we all do struggle.
Today is a good day for me. Today I am strong enough to say that I am learning to cope with postpartum depression. Correction: Today I am coping with postpartum depression. Just a couple of days ago, I wasn't. I wasn't functioning. I was on autopilot. Shit, I don't even know if what I was doing could be considered autopilot.
About two months before Lumi was born, I started struggling with my feelings. I figured I needed to get back into touch with my lovely therapist, Maria. It has been a while since I've been in contact with her due to losing my insurance when I was going through the divorce. My job didn't offer insurance while I was on-call. Once I had insurance, there were all kinds of issues with my coverage. One day I had insurance, one day it wasn't valid. I contacted Maria anyway and she told me that I would have to contact a PCP for a referral to see her (when it was working). A week or so later I went into premature labor. I battled premature labor for over a month & ended up being put on permanent bed rest until I delivered. Needless to say, I didn't get to call for a PCP to set an appointment.
After going into premature labor twice and having horrible pain for the entirety of the third trimester, I really couldn't tell whether or not I was in labor. On September 7th, I had swelling in my lower extremities. Mo worked until midnight & had a routine of coming home, taking a shower, pulling a chair up to the couch and rubbing my feet. I was having pain in my legs and feet due to the swelling and the foot & leg rubs always calmed my anxiety enough to put me to sleep. I had horrifying hip/groin pain that I thought was just from the weight of the baby and round ligament pain. Around 2 AM (1 hour after we went to sleep) I was woke up to pain that I couldn't shake. I lightly tapped Mo & said, "I think it's time to go to the hospital". He jumped out of bed so fast that I'm surprised his knees were able to hold him up. I really just remember the fact that I stood in the middle of our room sobbing & apologizing for waking him up and for being in so much pain. Don't worry, I made him walk the dog before we left.
Lumi Blanca Cardenas came into this beautiful world on September 8th, 2019 at 7:07 AM. 8lbs 5oz. 20 inches long. She's truly a miracle.
Around 3 weeks postpartum I started noticing a change in me. I dealt with the "baby blues" after having both Penelope & Lincoln so I thought that what I was feeling was "normal". It started with just sadness and being weepy. Well, Hello??? I just popped a baby out and hormones were nuts, remember? However, there came a day where I just didn't get out of bed. I had no desire. I wasn't interested in my baby. How could I not be interested in my baby? Do you see the picture above? Mo would come in and asked if I needed anything or hand me the baby to breastfeed. He'd come in and offer food. I just sat there. No appetite. No snuggling the baby. I would send him a text to come and get her as soon as she was done feeding. He brought me a glass of water and I didn't touch it. I didn't brush my teeth that day. If you know me, you know I don't play when it comes to brushing my teeth. I had no idea just how far down the rabbit hole I went. Mo mentioned talking to my OB about what I was feeling when it was time for my 6 week postpartum & birth control appointment.
As luck would have it my insurance was playing games with me once again. The day before my appointment I received a call from my OB's office. My insurance was denying coverage on me once again. They were not willing to cover my birth control or my appointment. In order for me to be seen we would have to pay $960 dollars. Apparently the Mirena IUD is a pricey little bitch without insurance. I don't know about you, but I didn't have that extra grand just lying around in my house or bank account. NOPE. So I called around until I found a place that my insurance would cover and have an appointment next month to figure these things out. In the mean time, I started calling around to different PCPs just to get a referral to see Maria. I needed to be able to be seen. Either there was a 6-8 week wait or they weren't accepting new patients. I took it as a sign to just wait until I go to my appointment next month. Although I knew I replaced my appointment, for some reason I started to spiral. Spiral into a dark dark hole.
One thing that Maria had me doing when I use to see her was writing down exactly what I was feeling when I was at an ultimate low. Write it down. Let it sit for at least 72 hours & then go back. See if I was still feeling those things. I had a HORRIBLE day. Day filled with thoughts that wouldn't stop. Thoughts that were breaking me. I sat down and wrote until I got everything out. I want to share those thoughts that I had. These thoughts are just that. Some of it wont make any sense. None at all. I will add that both Giovanni and Mo have been nothing, but kind and uplifting during my postpartum journey. My emotional state made me think things that weren't real.
** TRIGGER - These thoughts can be dangerous. If you are experiencing these thoughts, please contact your PCP or other health provider. **
"
Weak. Hopeless. Warped. Unworthy. Depressed.
Why? How?
She's hurt mentally & emotionally.
Sometimes all you can do is lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart.
Where did I go wrong in this? I feel like I've lost all control. All of it.
Over the last year I went looking for myself. Who am I? What have I become? Where did I go? Did I ever actually leave? What am I so desperately searching for? I dont have those answers. Even a year later filed with divorce, marriage, and new life. Yet, I am more lost than before. I have left no stone unturned in all of this. I have been looking for an outstretched hand this whole time? Am I looking for a hug? A specific conversation? A smile from someone that is feeling what I'm feeling without knowing that would be the only thing connecting the both of us? I still can't say. I know I'm broken. I'm a shell of a person in all of this. The happiness that I would feel now seems like ice. I've cracked and I know people around me see me. vulnerable. fragile. A "broken bird" if you will. The cracks are showing. The sand is escaping from the glass timer. There's no stopping what's happening. It's like slapping a Band-aid on a bullet wound. The right intentions are there, the execution is wrong. I patiently wait my turn. My turn to be able to "fix" how I feel about myself. "Fix" what I have been told is wrong with me. Imbalance. Scattered. Unworthiness. Door shuts. Appointments cancelled. I guess I didn't try hard enough. I pull another number and head to the back of the line. Wait for my number to be called just to have the lights turned off and the door locked as they call the person right before me. Try again tomorrow. Is there tomorrow? I've contemplated this more than I'd ever like to admit. I steady fight for a life that I'm not even certain I want to live. I fight for a life for children who wont look at me as a mom that loved them with every fiber of her being. I'm fighting for a life just to have two men think I'm unworthy of being a mother. I sacrificed my body. I sacrificed my comfort. I sacrificed my sanity. For what? For children who have fathers who think of me as merely an egg donor. I'm fighting for a life just to be reminded of the "problems" I have. Yet, I've given them the biggest parts of me. One doesn't want to be compared to the other, yet they both destroy me int he same way. Again, I'm fighting for a life that I'm not even certain I want to live. I'm fighting for a life where I cry out on social media because I can't talk to the person who is sitting in the next room. Vulnerable. The friends and strangers now see me for what I am. For who I am. Deleted Social Media. I drive around aimlessly. Start looking at the different spots to sleep in my car. Need somewhere safe. This is the life I'm fighting for? This is what three kids are going to be proud of? This is what children want as a mother? This is the example they deserve? My place of solitude is now a war zone. One you tiptoe around as to not trip a landmine. How? How did I do this to myself? How did I think that this would be different? How did I put down this wall that I built for yet another person? Why did I allow myself to do this again? Is this really the life I keep fighting for?
"
72 hours later, I was having a good day and read all of that. I finally understood just how far down this rabbit hole I have gone. My lows are the lowest of lows before someone like me becomes a statistic. This is postpartum depression and anxiety.
I immediately picked up the phone and called the mental health number on the back of my insurance card.
When I tell you that you will run into people who don't give a shit about you, I am not lying. I called the mental health number 3 separate times. The first person I spoke to. . . She seemed nice enough. I let her know about having to see a PCP and how they either weren't taking patients or the appointments were 6-8 weeks out. I flat out told her that I really need to see my therapist SOON because I was struggling with postpartum depression. She told me she could send me to a certain dept and they could immediately send Maria a referral. WRONG. 27 minutes on hold and this person tells me that I have to call the 866 number AGAIN and go back through the prompts.
The second person I told my story to sent me to another department where I was on hold for another 13 minutes and then promptly hung up on.
The third person sent me to yet another wrong dept. This time was even worse. I explained to the young lady on the phone my issue. Her response was, "Maybe you should just go sit in an ER then." I stated that I would rather avoid the ER at all costs because I don't believe I need to be on suicide watch or on a psych hold. I just want to see my therapist. Her exact response was the following:
That sounds like a personal problem.
When I say I felt something inside me break. . . I felt like I died inside. How could someone be just so blatantly uncaring. How could someone that is suppose to be there to help people like me just toss my feelings aside like trash? I'm not crazy. I don't feel like I need to be on suicide watch, but I just want help so that I don't become a statistic. I had to hang up before I yelled at her. I had to hang up before I completely unleashed on her. I hope that one of these days she understands that what she says could ultimately cost someone their life. Someone that just wants help.
I had one last try in this. I called the member service number on the back of my card. A man name Tony answered. I started crying as I was trying to tell him what I had just gone through. I explained to him the whole thing again.I explained to him how the person before him told me that I needed to go sit in an ER and how she stated that it was a personal problem. Then I said something that I was trying to hide within myself, " It's 6-8 weeks, Tony. 6-8 weeks that I don't know if I have in me. I'm not crazy, Tony. I don't need a psych hold. I just want to be able to see my own fucking therapist while I wait for my appointment. I just want to get my feelings heard, Tony." I will never forget what Tony said. "Jessica, you are NOT crazy. You will be ok. You need someone to talk to. Let me do the leg work and let's get you the help you are asking for." 5 minutes later, not only did Tony find out that the contract changed between Maria and my insurance so I no longer needed a referral or pre-auth for a visit, but he personally called Maria for me. This man asked me how I was doing. How Lumi was. This man that has never met me was having a genuine conversation with me and cared. At the end of the conversation Tony said, "Alright, Jessica, is there any thing else I can do for you? Anything? I'm here for you and I have the time."
The point of this whole post is that even if doors are shutting while you are seeking help for your mental health, there is SOMEONE out there that is willing to help you. Willing to listen. Whether it's your partner, your doctor, your OB, or a stranger, someone is out there. If you go to your doctor and they can't help you, go to another one. You keep fighting for YOU no matter how many times you're denied. Be open. Be honest with yourself. There is a Tony out there for you. There is a Tony willing to search high and low for YOU.
I know that there's a slim chance in hell that Tony would ever see this, but I truly believe that Tony may have helped save me from myself.
For any of my friends that need help or an ear, please contact me. I am willing to listen. I'm willing to help you on the leg work. I am willing to be your Tony.
This is exactly what we do to ourselves. This is what we do with our mental health. We place that bitch on hold and hope that if we ignore her long enough that she'll hang up & not call back for a while. We avoid having to deal with her as if she's an ex that you see in the grocery store. You know the one. The ex that you end up taking a hard left down another aisle and pray that they didn't see you out of their peripherals. Whether we struggle with our mental health every day or just one in a blue moon, we all do struggle.
Today is a good day for me. Today I am strong enough to say that I am learning to cope with postpartum depression. Correction: Today I am coping with postpartum depression. Just a couple of days ago, I wasn't. I wasn't functioning. I was on autopilot. Shit, I don't even know if what I was doing could be considered autopilot.
About two months before Lumi was born, I started struggling with my feelings. I figured I needed to get back into touch with my lovely therapist, Maria. It has been a while since I've been in contact with her due to losing my insurance when I was going through the divorce. My job didn't offer insurance while I was on-call. Once I had insurance, there were all kinds of issues with my coverage. One day I had insurance, one day it wasn't valid. I contacted Maria anyway and she told me that I would have to contact a PCP for a referral to see her (when it was working). A week or so later I went into premature labor. I battled premature labor for over a month & ended up being put on permanent bed rest until I delivered. Needless to say, I didn't get to call for a PCP to set an appointment.
After going into premature labor twice and having horrible pain for the entirety of the third trimester, I really couldn't tell whether or not I was in labor. On September 7th, I had swelling in my lower extremities. Mo worked until midnight & had a routine of coming home, taking a shower, pulling a chair up to the couch and rubbing my feet. I was having pain in my legs and feet due to the swelling and the foot & leg rubs always calmed my anxiety enough to put me to sleep. I had horrifying hip/groin pain that I thought was just from the weight of the baby and round ligament pain. Around 2 AM (1 hour after we went to sleep) I was woke up to pain that I couldn't shake. I lightly tapped Mo & said, "I think it's time to go to the hospital". He jumped out of bed so fast that I'm surprised his knees were able to hold him up. I really just remember the fact that I stood in the middle of our room sobbing & apologizing for waking him up and for being in so much pain. Don't worry, I made him walk the dog before we left.
Lumi Blanca Cardenas came into this beautiful world on September 8th, 2019 at 7:07 AM. 8lbs 5oz. 20 inches long. She's truly a miracle.
As luck would have it my insurance was playing games with me once again. The day before my appointment I received a call from my OB's office. My insurance was denying coverage on me once again. They were not willing to cover my birth control or my appointment. In order for me to be seen we would have to pay $960 dollars. Apparently the Mirena IUD is a pricey little bitch without insurance. I don't know about you, but I didn't have that extra grand just lying around in my house or bank account. NOPE. So I called around until I found a place that my insurance would cover and have an appointment next month to figure these things out. In the mean time, I started calling around to different PCPs just to get a referral to see Maria. I needed to be able to be seen. Either there was a 6-8 week wait or they weren't accepting new patients. I took it as a sign to just wait until I go to my appointment next month. Although I knew I replaced my appointment, for some reason I started to spiral. Spiral into a dark dark hole.
One thing that Maria had me doing when I use to see her was writing down exactly what I was feeling when I was at an ultimate low. Write it down. Let it sit for at least 72 hours & then go back. See if I was still feeling those things. I had a HORRIBLE day. Day filled with thoughts that wouldn't stop. Thoughts that were breaking me. I sat down and wrote until I got everything out. I want to share those thoughts that I had. These thoughts are just that. Some of it wont make any sense. None at all. I will add that both Giovanni and Mo have been nothing, but kind and uplifting during my postpartum journey. My emotional state made me think things that weren't real.
** TRIGGER - These thoughts can be dangerous. If you are experiencing these thoughts, please contact your PCP or other health provider. **
"
Weak. Hopeless. Warped. Unworthy. Depressed.
Why? How?
She's hurt mentally & emotionally.
Sometimes all you can do is lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart.
Where did I go wrong in this? I feel like I've lost all control. All of it.
Over the last year I went looking for myself. Who am I? What have I become? Where did I go? Did I ever actually leave? What am I so desperately searching for? I dont have those answers. Even a year later filed with divorce, marriage, and new life. Yet, I am more lost than before. I have left no stone unturned in all of this. I have been looking for an outstretched hand this whole time? Am I looking for a hug? A specific conversation? A smile from someone that is feeling what I'm feeling without knowing that would be the only thing connecting the both of us? I still can't say. I know I'm broken. I'm a shell of a person in all of this. The happiness that I would feel now seems like ice. I've cracked and I know people around me see me. vulnerable. fragile. A "broken bird" if you will. The cracks are showing. The sand is escaping from the glass timer. There's no stopping what's happening. It's like slapping a Band-aid on a bullet wound. The right intentions are there, the execution is wrong. I patiently wait my turn. My turn to be able to "fix" how I feel about myself. "Fix" what I have been told is wrong with me. Imbalance. Scattered. Unworthiness. Door shuts. Appointments cancelled. I guess I didn't try hard enough. I pull another number and head to the back of the line. Wait for my number to be called just to have the lights turned off and the door locked as they call the person right before me. Try again tomorrow. Is there tomorrow? I've contemplated this more than I'd ever like to admit. I steady fight for a life that I'm not even certain I want to live. I fight for a life for children who wont look at me as a mom that loved them with every fiber of her being. I'm fighting for a life just to have two men think I'm unworthy of being a mother. I sacrificed my body. I sacrificed my comfort. I sacrificed my sanity. For what? For children who have fathers who think of me as merely an egg donor. I'm fighting for a life just to be reminded of the "problems" I have. Yet, I've given them the biggest parts of me. One doesn't want to be compared to the other, yet they both destroy me int he same way. Again, I'm fighting for a life that I'm not even certain I want to live. I'm fighting for a life where I cry out on social media because I can't talk to the person who is sitting in the next room. Vulnerable. The friends and strangers now see me for what I am. For who I am. Deleted Social Media. I drive around aimlessly. Start looking at the different spots to sleep in my car. Need somewhere safe. This is the life I'm fighting for? This is what three kids are going to be proud of? This is what children want as a mother? This is the example they deserve? My place of solitude is now a war zone. One you tiptoe around as to not trip a landmine. How? How did I do this to myself? How did I think that this would be different? How did I put down this wall that I built for yet another person? Why did I allow myself to do this again? Is this really the life I keep fighting for?
"
72 hours later, I was having a good day and read all of that. I finally understood just how far down this rabbit hole I have gone. My lows are the lowest of lows before someone like me becomes a statistic. This is postpartum depression and anxiety.
I immediately picked up the phone and called the mental health number on the back of my insurance card.
When I tell you that you will run into people who don't give a shit about you, I am not lying. I called the mental health number 3 separate times. The first person I spoke to. . . She seemed nice enough. I let her know about having to see a PCP and how they either weren't taking patients or the appointments were 6-8 weeks out. I flat out told her that I really need to see my therapist SOON because I was struggling with postpartum depression. She told me she could send me to a certain dept and they could immediately send Maria a referral. WRONG. 27 minutes on hold and this person tells me that I have to call the 866 number AGAIN and go back through the prompts.
The second person I told my story to sent me to another department where I was on hold for another 13 minutes and then promptly hung up on.
The third person sent me to yet another wrong dept. This time was even worse. I explained to the young lady on the phone my issue. Her response was, "Maybe you should just go sit in an ER then." I stated that I would rather avoid the ER at all costs because I don't believe I need to be on suicide watch or on a psych hold. I just want to see my therapist. Her exact response was the following:
That sounds like a personal problem.
When I say I felt something inside me break. . . I felt like I died inside. How could someone be just so blatantly uncaring. How could someone that is suppose to be there to help people like me just toss my feelings aside like trash? I'm not crazy. I don't feel like I need to be on suicide watch, but I just want help so that I don't become a statistic. I had to hang up before I yelled at her. I had to hang up before I completely unleashed on her. I hope that one of these days she understands that what she says could ultimately cost someone their life. Someone that just wants help.
I had one last try in this. I called the member service number on the back of my card. A man name Tony answered. I started crying as I was trying to tell him what I had just gone through. I explained to him the whole thing again.I explained to him how the person before him told me that I needed to go sit in an ER and how she stated that it was a personal problem. Then I said something that I was trying to hide within myself, " It's 6-8 weeks, Tony. 6-8 weeks that I don't know if I have in me. I'm not crazy, Tony. I don't need a psych hold. I just want to be able to see my own fucking therapist while I wait for my appointment. I just want to get my feelings heard, Tony." I will never forget what Tony said. "Jessica, you are NOT crazy. You will be ok. You need someone to talk to. Let me do the leg work and let's get you the help you are asking for." 5 minutes later, not only did Tony find out that the contract changed between Maria and my insurance so I no longer needed a referral or pre-auth for a visit, but he personally called Maria for me. This man asked me how I was doing. How Lumi was. This man that has never met me was having a genuine conversation with me and cared. At the end of the conversation Tony said, "Alright, Jessica, is there any thing else I can do for you? Anything? I'm here for you and I have the time."
The point of this whole post is that even if doors are shutting while you are seeking help for your mental health, there is SOMEONE out there that is willing to help you. Willing to listen. Whether it's your partner, your doctor, your OB, or a stranger, someone is out there. If you go to your doctor and they can't help you, go to another one. You keep fighting for YOU no matter how many times you're denied. Be open. Be honest with yourself. There is a Tony out there for you. There is a Tony willing to search high and low for YOU.
I know that there's a slim chance in hell that Tony would ever see this, but I truly believe that Tony may have helped save me from myself.
For any of my friends that need help or an ear, please contact me. I am willing to listen. I'm willing to help you on the leg work. I am willing to be your Tony.
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