Mental illness, motherhood and the internet

The Internet made me think I was mentally ill.

To be fair, I already knew I was mentally ill. Between CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy), countless counseling sessions, and doctor referrals, it didn’t come as a surprise when I got my generalized anxiety disorder diagnosis in 2015.

I had been experiencing panic attacks since I was about 11. I didn’t know what it was back then. I just thought I was sick a lot.

I remember having to give a speech in Grade 5. It could be on whatever topic we wanted. I picked astrology.

Before it was my turn to present, my stomach felt like it was in knots, and my chest felt like another kid was sitting on me. I went to the principal’s office and laid down on the cot where the sick kids go and ended up lying there until I felt better. I ended up coming back to the class and killing it on my speech (in case you were wondering)

I was against going on medication as I got older because television and movies depicted people who took medication for mental health as “crazy”, and I was scared of not feeling like myself or feeling numb from the medication.

When I was about 23, things came to a head. I was working as a receptionist at the time, and I was having such frequent panic attacks at work that I was constantly having to go home. I was lucky, in the sense, that my boss was extremely understanding of my circumstances, but made it clear that unless something changed, I wasn’t going to be able to stay employed.

After a lot of thought and a lot of talking with my doctor, I made the leap to start medication. I started on Prozac, and with my doctor’s guidance, gradually started feeling better. This was in October. By December, I was anxiety free, for the most part. No more wondering how people perceived me. I went from four or five panic attacks a week, to one or two a month. That alone was bliss for me.

Becoming a mom

At the end of December, I found out I was pregnant. With testing and advice from my doctor, we determined the benefit outweighed the risk, and I was able to continue taking my medication throughout my pregnancy.

About six months after I had my son, the world shut down. COVID-19 was ripping through the country and the lockdown was in full effect. I was on maternity leave, now technically alone, except my husband, who had to continue working through the pandemic. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house, with a new baby. I had no idea what I was doing, and the postpartum depression and anxiety took over.

I was able to adjust my meds which helped a bit, but for all intents and purposes, I completely lost who I was. I became “mom”, and no one else. New symptoms started showing up: sensory issues to lights and noise made me want to scream in anger. I would cry when my husband left for work in the mornings because I was scared to be left alone with a new baby, but yell at him when he came home because I had no other adult interaction. I was overwhelmed.

Being a mom brought on a whole new world of anxiety-inducing fears and situations. For myself, when things are out of my control, I panic. Being a small human’s only source of nutrients because I was too stubborn to bottle feed (I got over that). Having the patience to teach this new baby how to be a human, and reminding myself that mistakes are going to happen. Milk will get spilled, and there is nothing I can do about it. And the germs. The germs! A runny nose I can handle, but as someone who also suffers with emetophobia (the fear of vomit), flu season is my personal hell on earth.

My diet was poor. I was angry and anxious, and gained more weight that I had when I was pregnant, and I was angry at everyone. I didn’t want to go anywhere when the world opened back up because I didn’t want people to look at me and think “she had a baby and got fat.”

All these things added up to being a perfect storm for my mental health to spiral. These feelings lasted a long time, and still pop up every now and then.

Internet Influence

The more doom scrolling I did on Instagram and TikTok, the more I started seeing videos of other women echoing things I thought and felt. How motherhood was hard, how the pandemic didn’t help their mental state at all. How they didn’t feel good enough and were struggling.

It was nice to feel like I was drowning in a pool alone, but that there were tons of others that were drowning with me, and that if we all supported each other, we might just be able to keep our heads above the water.

I started looking into an ADHD diagnosis, since a lot of the women I was seeing online and related heavily to had been diagnosed themselves. It sounds silly when you go to the doctor and start a sentence with “I saw this video on the internet…”

I started researching how ADHD in women often presents, like a chronic feeling of being overwhelmed, and that I wasn’t just lazy for physically not being able to do the dishes and letting it pile up until I had no choice but to clean them if I wanted to eat, or if people were coming over, I would panic clean for hours to make it look like a mentally ill person didn’t live in my house.

This whole time, I’m still taking my Prozac, because despite it not seeming to do much for my depression, lack of concentration, forgetfulness, and just all-around disliking myself to the point where I would just stay in bed, it was, at least, still keeping most of the panic attacks at bay.

I could deal with the rest of the symptoms most days and slap a smile on my face and pretend like my brain wasn’t moving a mile a minute about all the things I had to worry about. Add relentless panic attacks on top of that? That would be the end of me.

Looking ahead

I’ve been in some pretty dark places the last four years. Hiding in my car while I eat my feelings, then feeling worse for eating too much junk food. Yelling at my husband and taking my frustration out on him because I can’t control how I’m feeling. Even reverting back to coping tactics I had as a sad teenager that was crying out for attention. These are just a few things I’m not proud of.

I’m not writing this because I’m “cured”. I go for my ADHD assessment next week after being on the waiting list for over a year. In that year I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned that when I feel so overwhelmed that I want to scream, I need to remove myself from the situation and be alone. I’ve learned to communicate with my husband better, and tell him when I’m having what we now refer to as a “bad brain day”. I’ve even started being honest with my now four-year-old and telling him that mama’s brain is making her sad today, so she might not want to play as much. Most of the time, he will give me a big hug and tell me he loves me, then give me a glass of water, because “water is healthy and will make you feel better,” and it helps. It all helps.

My hope is that when I do finally see the doctor, it gives me some answers and some clarity, and it helps me regain some control I feel like I’ve lost. I hope I can continue on this path of just being open with people of how I’m feeling, and not feel ashamed of it.

Besides, if you had a cold, you wouldn’t lie to your friends and family and say “I’m fine” as you sit there with a fever and a stuffy nose.

So why should I keep saying “I’m fine” when really my brain is sick?