by Shelley G.

Created on: December 31, 2009

THE EARLY YEARS

From a very young age, my parents often referred to me as their "overly sensitive child."  While I loved to laugh, play and interact with my entire family, I was easily reduced to tears by what I perceived to be a disapproving look or an angry tone of voice. I remember often feeling wrong and weak.  The worst feelings came when I clumsily spilled a glass of milk or broke a treasured knick-knack.  On those occasions, I remember thinking what a huge disappointment I must be to my parents.  Warm hugs and consoling words would eventually ease my distress.  Nothing, however, could take away my certainty that I was somehow "flawed."

HORMONES RUN AMOK

Emotions run the gamut during the teen years.  It is unfortunate that 30 years ago mental illness was often dismissed, if considered at all, as a possible cause of depression, anger, or out-of-control behaviors in teens.  In my case, the emotional wave of ups and downs that peppered my otherwise "normal" teenage life was explained away with the catch-all diagnosis of Premenstrual Syndrome.  PMS, as it is commonly known, stuck with me closer than a sister through high school, college, and the first eight years of my marriage.  The running joke among my family and friends was that "between pms, post-ms, and during-ms, I had one good day of the month." 

AND BABY MAKES THREE

I believe everyone has a special calling in life.  Mine was motherhood.  Two joy-filled pregnancies and two "easy" problem-free labor and deliveries later, my overly sensitive self spiraled downward into the darkest days I've ever known.  Severe post-partum depression exacerbated by full-blown panic attacks rendered me nearly unable to function after my second child was born.  Well-meaning freinds encouraged me to "be strong" and "buck up."  Their words rang in my ears as I sobbed while nursing my newborn son.  Through the tears I would whisper to him, "Everything's going to be okay; Mommy loves you and will never leave you."  My three year old son took it upon himself to soothe me with nearly identical words.  I felt like a complete failure as a mother, yet oddly enough it was because of my sons that I never acted on the suicidal impulses that assaulted me each day.

BACK TO THE FUTURE

It has been 17 years

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