Category Archives: Postpartum Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

Saturday Sundries: Is Postpartum Depression only tears?

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Happy Saturday, y’all!

It’s been grey here all day. Within the past hour, we have had torrential downpour, thunder, no lightning, and the sky is now a bright white instead of a dark lingering grey. I have been down for the count since Thursday night with Strep. I’m on the mend though, and managed to go for a drive this morning to escape the house. I ended up in a little town named Good Hope. Lately it seems to be where my car likes to take me when I need to get out and breathe. You can read more about my journey there at The 3six5 Project tonight at 8:00p.m.

There has also been an air of tension over my hometown for the past few days. The situation has resolved as of early this morning and we are all breathing much easier today. I’m not disclosing the reason because I would hate to trigger anyone inadvertently. All that matters is that it resolved without any further tragedy and all is well once again.

Today I am grateful for local law enforcement, tylenol, ibuprofen, and antibiotics. And I cannot wait until I can hug my children close again!

As always – the answer below is not meant to be complete or professional in any sense. Always seek a professional’s opinion in regard to your own situation. Everyone does not always have the same experience.

Today’s Question: Is Postpartum Depression only Tears?

No. It’s not.

Sure, tears may be involved somewhere. But they may not be involved at all. I have had so many mothers share with me that they didn’t think they had PPD because they were not crying lumps. Thing is, there are many different Mood Disorders on the Postpartum Spectrum. These include but are not limited to:

  • Postpartum Depression
  • Postpartum Anxiety
  • Postpartum Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
  • Postpartum Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome
  • Postpartum Psychosis

You’ll notice that I did not include the Baby Blues in the above list. It’s not there because it’s not considered a psychiatric disorder. The Baby Blues happen to many mothers – up to 80%. When the blues last longer than a few weeks and/or go beyond simply weepiness or moodiness, it is time to get checked out by your doctor.

Postpartum Psychosis is a medical emergency. Postpartum Psychosis has a fast onset. It may involve hallucinations (both auditory and visual), an incapability of making decisions for oneself, and delusional thinking. A mother with Postpartum Psychosis should NOT be left alone either by herself or with an infant. This means not even in the next room – someone needs to be with her at all times. She should also be admitted to the ER as soon as possible.

Postpartum Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, the disorder with which I struggled, involves what are called intrusive thoughts. These thoughts often include visualizations of harming our children or ourselves, but unlike Postpartum Psychosis, we are immediately repulsed by these thoughts as soon as they flit through our heads. We struggle to control them and often will create a blizzard of IT’s with no end in sight as we get lost in the ever expanding tunnel of negative “what-if” thoughts. I recently wrote a post about whether or not these thoughts go away. They fade and get easier to control but they never really go away, a difficult reality for many to face. I am a little over 5 years past my last PPOCD episode. I still have the occasional thought but I am able to stop them quicker and they do not happen nearly as often.

Postpartum Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome can be triggered by a negative birth experience or anything within the birth/newborn process which is perceived to be traumatic by the mother. The worst thing you can ever say to a mother with PP PTSD is that she’s silly for being so upset over such a small thing. Clearly, if it is causing her issues to the extent that it interferes with her daily living, it is not a small issue for her. Mothers with PP PTSD will avoid the place at which the triggering event took place – such as the hospital, doctor’s office, midwife’s office, etc. She may also struggle with graphic triggering dreams, intense anxiety, panic attacks, hyper-vigilance, and flashbacks. It is important to note that PP PTSD can occur in conjunction with any of the other mood disorders, and may even be the triggering point for the development of other disorders such as Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. This is my own opinion because I believe I had PP PTSD with my first and second daughters which then led to my OCD. My first birth was very traumatic and my second birth led to a month long NICU stay for our daughter.

Postpartum Anxiety is marked by constant worry about things which don’t need to be worried about, hyper-vigilance, overwhelming sense of doom, inability to sit still, racing thoughts, and possible physical symptoms such as dizziness, hot flashes, and nausea. There is help available for Postpartum Anxiety and you are not alone in struggling with this.

Postpartum Depression, while involving symptoms of crying and sadness, also involves feelings of anger and irritability. Not many people think of depression being angry, but for many, this is how it manifests. You may also become overwhelmed with feelings of shame, sadness, and guilt. Motherhood is supposed to be a happy time for us mothers. For those of us who develop a Postpartum Mood Disorder, we become ashamed for not feeling how society expects us to feel. We struggle to ignore these feelings, leading only to a more serious and urgent situation down the road.

Bottom line, Postpartum Depression is not just tears. It might be anger, irritability, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, hallucinations, flashbacks, panic attacks, shame, guilt, and hyper-vigilance. Just because your wife isn’t weeping her way through her postpartum period does not mean she does not have a Postpartum Mood Disorder. There are so many varied ways in which this can manifest.

Please also remember that Postpartum Thyroiditis may masquerade as a Postpartum Mood Disorder. It is important to get your thyroid levels checked to rule this out as if it is Postpartum Thyroiditis, an entirely different type of medication will need to be used to treat the condition. In fact, anti-depressants may make things worse if a thyroid issue is the root cause.

Don’t tell her to snap out of it. Tell her these things. Tell her you love her no matter what. Be there for her. Let her cry on your shoulder if she needs to do so. Encourage her to see a doctor but know you can’t force her to do this UNLESS she is a clear threat to herself or to others (ie, threatened suicide or harm to others). Recruit help for housework. For childcare so she can rest. Having a baby is hard work. Raising one while struggling with a Postpartum Mood Disorder is hell. We need all the help we can get. She may not say thank you immediately but one day, in the future, she will be ever grateful for all you did for her when she needed you most. She will say thank you. One day.

Do the thoughts ever go away?

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Lately, I’ve been getting this question  more often than any other question.

“Do the thoughts ever go away?”

A close second is “Does it ever get better?”

Every time I hear these questions, I tense up. I don’t know how to respond more often than not. So I take a deep breath and answer according to my experience. Thing is, not everyone’s experience’s are the same, a point I try to emphasize. With Postpartum, we all drag our own history to the table, our support access, our thoughts, our demons. We don’t all look the same in the mirror at the end of the day.

My youngest child is three years old.

The daughter I had my last Postpartum OCD experience with turns 5 on Monday.

I still have thoughts.

Not so much about harming the children. But “What if this or what if That” or “What if I…”

Many of these thoughts are remnants of my over-extended stay in Postpartumville.

And that’s the key to realizing that I am no longer there… the ability to recognize these thoughts as remnants, not recorded loops intensely playing over and over and over and over and over in my head.

Now? I can stop them before they even get past “What if….” most of the time.

Sometimes they sneak past the “What if…” and I get into what I call the “meat” of the thought. The event, the horror, the THING of which I should not be thinking. The thing which would make a good mom turn ghost white if I were to share this thought with her. This dark thought which, right now, is swirling about in my head, how do I sit next to another mom and try to act as if everything is okay? They spring into my head everywhere. At church, in the car, at home, outside, at the grocery store.. everywhere.

How do I make them stop?

I physically shake my head back and forth and say “NO!” outloud. Seriously. Sometimes I’ll just shake my head back and forth and tell myself NO silently if I were with others.

Some women aren’t able to stop things so easily as that though. Many women find it helpful to start listing state capitols, colors, states, the alphabet, or a list of any sort. Doing a challenging puzzle like Sudoku or a word search has helped some. It’s also interesting to note here that Tetris has been proven to be a valuable resource/therapy for soldiers with PTSD. It may also work for moms struggling with OCD and intrusive thoughts. Others may knit or read a book. But it’s important to really engage your mind and distract it from the negative thoughts flowing through it so if you choose something to distract you, be sure it fully engages your mind rather than just part of it.

It’s hard for me to tell a mom that the thoughts never completely go away. But they get easier to corral, easier to stop before they carry you down to the depths of hell as they once did. When you’re in that very dark place, the thoughts are like a swarm of flies. You can’t make them go away with just one swat. You have to cover yourself in all sorts of things to get them to dissipate. But once you’ve moved even further away, the thoughts get to be like the random housefly. If you ignore it, it’ll go elsewhere and no harm is done.

I sincerely hope this helps some of those who have been asking this question lately. It may not be what you wanted to hear but I sincerely hope you find some solace within my answer.

Take care of you, always.

 

Postpartum Voice of the Week: Pamela via 2 much Testosterone

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For those of you who are still fragile, watch this Sheryl Crow Video. Don’t go read these posts. Seriously. They’re good but not worth risking your mental health over.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIYiGA_rIls]

 

Usually for the Postpartum Voice of the Week I write an intro, point out the strong points, admire the authors writing.

I’m not doing that today. Not because there’s a lack of either one of those things but because I would end up sharing the entire post.

What has happened to Pamela (@lotsospermies) this past week is beyond inexcusable. It speaks to the level of disregard for those who live among us and struggle with mental illness, especially mental illness related to the postpartum period.

We are human. We deserve dignity and respect. We are not stupid. We are not morons. We are you. We are hurt. We are fighting to be well. Respect that. Listen. HELP US. Do not lock us away. Don’t tell us to be silent. We refuse to suffer indignities in the dark any longer. We are here. We are not afraid to speak up. We are not afraid.

Pamela courageously and in a raw honest voice shares her experience with her readers.

I’m sharing it here.

Go. Read. Share some words of hope with her.

Based on a True Story (Part I)

Based on a True Story (Part II)

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Media Sensationalism, AOL, and Postpartum Mood Disorders

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1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Oh, hey.

You’re here. Excellent.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.

Why am I counting? You’ll find out in a bit. For now, just go with it.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.

In the United States, from October 2008 through October 2009, 4,148,000 live babies were born.

The statistical rate of Postpartum Mood Disorder is up to 20% of all new mothers. And by new, I mean just gave birth, not first time mom. Postpartum Mood Disorder is one of those fabulous non-discriminating kinda things which will walk up to anyone and cold cock them for no reason at all. Regardless of how well prepared said person may be. It’s kinda like getting mugged. Repeatedly.

This means that from October 2008 – October 2009, approximately 829,600 new mothers more than likely struggled with a Postpartum Mood Disorder at some level. This means 2 out of every 10 moms struggled with a Postpartum Mood Disorder (hence, the counting).

There is no data which tells us how many of those 829,600 mothers sought help.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.

I have been in the trenches with Postpartum Mood Disorders since 2004. You see, I had a very horrible episode of Postpartum OCD after the birth of my first daughter. After her birth, vicious thoughts swirled about in my head. Visions too. Instead of enjoying my brand new baby’s time here, I was swallowed whole with anxiety, shoved into fight mode to protect her from myself, and left thinking the whole world was out to get me because they knew how much I sucked at this whole motherhood thing.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.

For the record? I did the right thing. I called my doctor and made an appointment. I had to take my daughter with me because my husband was unable to get off work. So off we went, into the wild blue yonder where this thing called Help lived. We arrived, waltzed through the front door and signed my name with a flourish because dammit, we were there to do the right thing.

Only my doctor was not there to do the right thing.

He was there to judge me. To inform me that all my hormones had slid magically back into their little slots at 4 weeks postpartum and there was nothing wrong with me.

Whaaaa????

Wait a second.

I JUST handed you a scale. On which I answered YES to having thoughts of harming myself AND my child. And YOU, a trained medical professional, are dismissing this? Did I miss something here? I am no professional but.. uh… um…. really?

THEN… oh then… the icing:

“How important is breastfeeding to you?” he asked, quite seriously as he peered at me from behind his large and imposing wooden desk as my daughter screamed her head off to be nursed beside me.

I should have gotten her out of her car seat and started to nurse right then and there. But I didn’t. Shock slacked my jaw and curled my mouth into a grin. This “professional” clearly did not have the capacity to help me. I smiled my way right out of the appointment and drove home with tears sliding down my face. You see, the Internet had told me just what to do – to go seek help. To make an appointment with my doctor. The Internet had said nothing about what to do when you are shot down by your doctor.

So there I was……driving baby, me, and my shattered heart all the way home. Alone. Isolated. Abandoned. Scared as hell.

Never before in my life had I experienced a hell quite like the one in which I now found myself mired. Never before had I, a perfectly normal person prior to giving birth to my daughter, given any thought to harming another person. NEVER. And the day on which I discovered my pregnancy? There was no way I would have ever thought that less than three months after giving birth I would want to go back in time so I would never get pregnant. I wanted to run, hide, make this new me go away.

In what state did all of this take place?

South.Frigging.Carolina.

Just a couple of hours away from Orangeburg and less than 45 minutes away from where Susan Smith, well, you know.

Let me tell you a bit about rural South Carolina.

There is nothing in rural South Carolina. Small towns there are devoid of much of anything. Residents in these towns are intent on keeping outsiders out and insiders in. We barely made any friends while there. The town in which we lived seemed to have some sort of an addiction problem as most wandered around mindlessly. The poverty level? Wow. We were on the high end of the scale for living because we: Rented a HOUSE instead of a trailer and owned TWO cars instead of one or none at all. The house we rented was tiny. But that didn’t matter. We were considered to be upper class in the town despite the fact that we were just squeaking by on my husband’s salary as a restaurant manager.

In this town, there lived a family everyone knew to avoid. They didn’t have running water so they never bathed which made them reek to high heaven. If you were fortunate enough to be at the local Wal-mart or Bi-Lo when they were, you learned to walk to the other side of the store if you saw them coming.

High School graduates were also hard to come by as well. Many young people had to go to work early to help support the family. They worked at whatever they could find – sometimes driving long distances for good jobs. Even then it was hard to get good work because the jobs in the city were very picky if you lived too far away. Understandable concern but it really does put a crimp on improving your life when you are living in the middle of nowhere and cannot afford a move into the city until you get a better job which of course, you can’t get because you live too far away. It is a very vicious cycle.

Oh, and the Klan had a central PUBLIC meeting location.

And yes, you read that right.

Bottom line here – South Carolina has problems. A lot of problems. Many states do but never before in my life had I witnessed a perfect storm – poverty, ignorance, and a lack of support for its residents.

Since I have left, there has been the development of a Postpartum Coalition there. I’ve been asked to speak at their annual conference in October 2011. I am really looking forward to coming full circle with my experience and helping to educate providers and citizens alike in a state which so desperately needs raised awareness of Postpartum Mood Disorders.

Why did I just walk you through all of that history?

Earlier this week, a mother in South Carolina was arrested for the deaths of her two toddler sons. According to news articles, she was unemployed, frustrated, and had some heated words with her mother the night before the incident. This mother has since confessed to her actions and is now in jail facing court and charges.

For some reason, various members of the media have dragged the idea of this mother having Postpartum Depression into the Speculation surrounding her case. Now, Dr. Arlene Huysman, author of The Postpartum Effect, an excellent book which examines why mothers kill, postulates that Susan Smith and others may struggle with something called Progressive Postpartum Depression.

Here’s how she describes it on page 43 (empasis mine):

“The mother with progressive postpartum depression (PPPD), however, does NOT recover without treatment. She merely experiences a hiatus until her next episode. Subsequent episodes are very often triggered by rejections, separations, and losses, and recur throughout the woman’s life. Usually the next episode is worse than the last. If this pattern goes unchecked, the mother will spiral into a cycle of illness that can destroy her life and her family.

When a mother is in the grip of this disease in its most serious form, she passes beyond reason. In the place of the capable woman is one full of dread, rage, and confusion. She feels unloved and unlovable and loses her ability to distinguish right from wrong. She may hear voices in her head and be listening to them rather than the voices of her family. This is not a symptom of schizophrenia, but rather a reflection of her own obsessive thinking. Death may become a preoccupation. She is in the throes of what feels like an unending despair.”

Yesterday, (Please do not click on the following link if you are still struggling as it may be triggering.) AOL News contributor, David Lohr, published an article about this South Carolina mother at AOL News. In the original version, he included a quote from criminal profiler Pat Brown. Ms. Brown, based out of Washington DC, has been featured in many outlets including CNN, Court TV, and various other sources. Makes perfect sense to get a quote from a criminal profiler for a case involving well, crime.

But David Lohr and AOL news made an egregious error in their publication of the quote by Ms. Brown. AOL news has since removed the quote from the story and appended the story with an editor’s note to this effect. Ms. Brown has gone on the defensive in regards to a very public and viral outburst by many of the women I am proud to blog and tweet with on a daily basis.

The offensive quote:

“Most women who suffer depression after their children are born are suffering from post-how-did-I-get-stuck-with-this-kid, this body, this life? They may be depressed, but it is their situation and their psychopathic personality that brings them to kill their children, and not some chemical malfunction.”

If most women were truly suffering from “post-how-did-I-get-stuck-with-this-kid, this body, this life” then all we would need is a personal trainer or plastic surgeon, a nanny, and a million dollars to effectively change our stars. Oh wait – speaking of stars, don’t celebs have this too? Bryce Dallas Howard had it. Miranda Kerr, Gwyneth Paltrow, Brooke Shields, Marie Osmond, and many others. Granted, they did not kill their children but they still struggled (even severely) with Postpartum Mood Disorders. And they had access to all the help in the world.

Postpartum Mood Disorders do not just strike poor down on their luck moms.

Postpartum Mood Disorders are NOT the only possible explanation for filicide.

Postpartum Mood Disorders may not be definitively caused by a hormonal or “chemical malfunction” but study after study shows there are differing rates of various hormones of women struggling with PMD’s. Researchers have not yet defined what this means yet but I suspect that with sustained research we will get closer to answers each and every day.

The ignorance of Ms. Pat Brown in making such a sweeping statement in regards to an entire population of struggling moms is highly irresponsible. With her reach and popularity as a commentator for several national shows including the Today Show, the CBS Early Show, Larry King, Inside Edition, Nancy Grace, Issues with Jane Velez-Mitchell, Joy Behar, and America’s Most Wanted as well as featured on the Court TV show I, Detective, it frightens me to hear her make such a grandiose and untrue statement. The possibility that a hurting mother somewhere may have read her statement and then dismissed her own issues scares the hell out of me.

We, mothers who have struggled with Postpartum Mood Disorders, have issue enough with gathering strength to make that first call for help. We become convinced we are bad mothers. That we have failed and will never get better. We talk ourselves down even further the rabbit hole into which we tripped after we gave birth to children we love more than life itself.

Moms with Postpartum Depression are NOT:

Bad Mothers

Mourning the loss of our previous supermodel body

Tragically sad because now we have a little person stuck with us

Moms with Postpartum Depression ARE:

Madly in love with their children

Good moms who want to heal

Desperate to find reliable help

I can’t even begin to fathom the damage this statement has made. I have had more mothers tell me they are a bad mom because they are sad. It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to be happy. I don’t love my son, daughter, husband, etc. What is wrong with me? The confusion, angst, sorrow, frustration, guilt, all adds to their journey with a Postpartum Mood Disorder. Then if they are unable to find the help they need (like me), they are left to their own devices for recovery. Unfortunately, some of us never find the right help and are not surrounded by empowering people who can lift them up and guide them toward recovery.

If you are struggling with a Postpartum Mood Disorder or hurting, sad, upset, and thinking of harming yourself or others, PLEASE reach out for help. If it’s after the birth of a child, you can call Postpartum Support International at 1-800-944-4PPD. Volunteers check the messages on a daily basis (I’m one of them and these ladies are DEDICATED. We will get you in touch with someone in your area who can help you). If you need urgent help, please go to the nearest ER. If you’re feeling suicidal, you can call 1-800-273-TALK anytime of the day, even at 2am on a Sunday.

I remember that sense of isolation. The need to reach out and talk with someone who has been there and done that was overpowering. The desperation I felt in my incapacity to locate professional help. I tried for four days before I broke down to call my doctor. I hung up as soon as the automation came on the line. Have you ever tried to admit to someone that things are NOT okay when you are supposed to be at your happiest, especially according to Johnson & Johnson? It is one of the hardest things in the world to do. Hands down.

Fittingly, Jennifer Lopez’s Let’s Get Loud just came on Pandora as I’m wrapping this up.

I thank everyone out there who got LOUD yesterday to let AOL, Pat Brown, and David Lohr know how wrong they were.

AOL, you need to apologize. The quote should never have been published to begin with.

Pat? I challenge you to read Dr. Huysman’s book, The Postpartum Effect if you have not already. It’s available at Amazon. Hell, I might just mail you a copy. Anyone else want to flood her office with copies? It’s about $15 or so. If that wouldn’t get her attention…..

And David Lohr, the next time you need a quote about something related to Postpartum Depression? Try Postpartum Support International. I believe they know a thing or two about Postpartum Mood Disorders.

Graham Crackers & Peanut Butter with a side order of crazy: Part III

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Welcome to Part III. Today I talk with the doc and get sent to the ER. Not the best day in my life but one of the most helpful by far. Click here to read Part II.

And we’re back at the morning when I wanted to let go.

They say the hardest thing to do is to let go.

Lemme tell you something – that morning, letting go was easy. I was weak, tired, frustrated, confused, and overwhelmed. I had nothing left to do but to let go. So I did.

As I drove myself to the doctor’s office, my mind was blank. I don’t really remember the drive. When I arrived, I went back pretty quickly and shuttled into a little room with a nurse. She asked why I was there. Didn’t I tell you on the phone? Why do I have to repeat myself? It wouldn’t be the last time. I sighed and let the monsters out of the bag. I was too far gone to care about consequences.

I sat in the doctor’s office confessing all of my dark secrets. But it wasn’t me.

No, I floated above myself as this other woman confessed to a multitude of sins that I had not committed. To thoughts I had certainly not had. To horrible things like not bonding with my child and wanting to smother her with a pillow. My mouth moved, sound escaped, but surely it wasn’t my voice uttering these things. I am a good mom. Good mothers do not want to do things like smother their children or abandon them at the hospital. Good mothers can do anything. Good mothers are perfect and kind and… well, like June Cleaver.

My house was a wreck, I slid closer and closer to carrying out these horrific pirhanic like thoughts swimming through my brain, I barely slept, barely kept up with anything anymore. There was no way in hell good mother applied to me.

She spoke slowly and deliberately, asking how long it would take me to get to the local hospital, what route I would take, if I felt I could drive myself.

I asked if I could go home to get some of my things. I needed a breast pump. My breasts were starting to sting they were so full. (It was almost 4:00 p.m. now. I had not pumped since 11:00a.m. and normally pumped every three hours.)

No. You have to go straight to the hospital. Can you do that?

But I need to get my things….

No. Hospital. Now.

Okay. If you say so.

She and I walked quietly to the front of the office where she helped me check out. (Sidenote: I carry that receipt/slip with me in my wallet to this day. It reminds me of how far I have come since then.)

I left and walked to my car. I called my husband to tell him the doctor sent me to the ER. I’d call with an update when I could.

When I arrived at the ER, they were waiting for me. The doctor said she would call ahead. I was triaged and sent back almost immediately.

The ER doc on call came in, sat down and asked me what was going on with me.

I told him. Quietly and calmly.

“I’m here because I do not want to be Andrea Yates. I don’t want to be Andrea Yates. Please, keep me from being Andrea Yates.” I pleaded with him as he sat across from me, legs crossed, arms crossed, yet seemingly warm and open. Relaxed. He stood in a very relaxed position. This made me comfortable.

I remember this ER doc. He kept telling me how much courage it took to seek help. He commended me for my bravery. Shortly after the ER doc left, a nurse came in and a security guard showed up. My belongings were taken away from me to keep them safe. (Translation – to keep ME safe.) I talked openly with a social worker about my situation, my thoughts, everything. I don’t remember what he asked or what I said to him. I do remember asking if I could have a breast pump. It was now nearly 6:00 p.m. I believe. My breasts were moments away from bursting.

The social worker talked with me about hospitalization. I nodded in agreement. I needed help. I needed to rest. He disappeared to make some calls. I wish I had known about Emory at this time. I would have requested to go there. But I didn’t so off to elsewhere I went.

My husband arrived with some of my things including my breast pump which I received permission to take with me. He looked exhausted and scared. I’m sure I looked the same – or worse.

Shortly after he arrived, the transport driver showed up. I asked to go to the rest room and had to be quick about it. I hugged my husband good bye and followed the driver to the van.

I don’t know what time we left the ER. The inky sky swallowed me whole as tiny rays of light beamed down. I missed the sun. I felt even more trapped and alone as the van glided over streets I had driven time and time again prior to this night. Yet tonight the buildings judged me, the stars judged me, and the headlights of the oncoming traffic judged me. They all knew – they all knew why I rode in the back of the medical transport van.

As the driver turned onto the main road away from my town, I took a deep breath. I had no idea what the rest of the night held but I already felt a tremendous sense of relief.

(Read Part IV here)