#endthestigma

I will be the first to admit it, I need help. And when I say I need “help” I mean therapy, mental health therapy. Zane has been gone almost 6 years and I have not one time talked to a professional. So hear me out on all of this…

Three months after he died I finally broke down and made that first appointment with my PCP. He was expecting me, especially since he has three boys of his own. While sitting next to me in the room, he had tears in his eyes as I talked about Zane. My doctor was surprised it took me so long to get in there to start treatment on medication.

Round one was Wellbutrin by itself. I didn’t feel much of a change after a few weeks so back to the drawing board. We added another. I immediately gained a crap ton of weight. But…I started to feel “clearer”. I didn’t cry as much. I stayed on this combo for a little over a year but got frustrated with the extra weight. I switched the second med to another to see if I could drop a few pounds. Two things: no weight loss and my mood went to crap. So I bought some more chalk for the board. Round four.

By this time I had forgotten the name of the meds I tried. I just remember not liking how I felt. So yet again I weaned myself off (stayed on the Wellbutrin) and decided to not get back on anything and ride it out. I thought it was going ok mentally. Well until September of 2021 when my little family was ripped apart yet again. God has a vendetta out for us and no one can convince me otherwise. Too many wrongs and not enough rights for God to be on our side.

Well here I am yet again a year and half later after the last family massacre. This time I decided to see a psychiatrist. I wanted to get down and dirty, to the nitty gritty. I know my little brain is a bit messed up and mushy. That tends to happen when you lose a child, especially from suicide. And it doesn’t help when you have another (adopted) child throw disgusting accusations around at your husband that rips our hearts to shreds. A few med changes, another appointment with a phycologist in two weeks and I’m on my way.

I just spilled my guts about my mental health because I want to end the stigma. The stigma that your mental health isn’t worth taking care of. Anyone who thinks depression, anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, etc are not real are sick themselves. No one should be ashamed of taking care of their mind and spirit. And absolutely no one should BE shamed for it.

I have always been the “caretaker”, now it’s my turn to be taken care of. I am not ashamed. My grief of losing Zane will always be a part of me but I want to let go of some of this guilt that I carry. I am on my own road to recovery.

Please, if you are having suicidal thoughts…

Call 1-800-273-8255, 988 or text HELP to 741741

#flyhighzane #suicidesucks