Changing the World – Want in?

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In the four years I’ve been doing this work, there’s one word I’ve heard uttered in response to the question “Why aren’t you in therapy/seeing a doctor/getting help?”

MONEY.

These moms, these mothers stranded in the darkness, so lost that many of them are sure suicide is the only way out, are stopped from getting help because they can’t AFFORD IT. They’re just above the line for assistance. Or their assistance ran out because they’re past 8weeks postpartum (which, by the way, is when most Medicaid for pregnant mothers runs out and ALSO when Postpartum manifests) Or the state they live in (I’m looking at YOU, South Carolina) classifies Postpartum Depression as an EXCLUSIONARY condition within the Department of Mental Health, cutting them off from assistance for therapy and other treatment options after Medicaid runs out.

MONEY, people.

It’s killing our mothers. Impairing their ability to recover. To function. To fully parent their children. To fully be themselves. It’s leaving them desperate and out in the cold without a warm hand to hold. It’s hurting our children’s chances at a successful life. Did you know that when you treat a postpartum mother successfully, her CHILDREN have a better chance at growing up and not developing issues with mental health? Weissman et al in 2006 treated 151 depressed mother/child pairs. Of the mothers treated, 33% of the children improved their behavior. Only 12% did not. This is not just a mom issue. This is a SOCIETAL issue. True mental health care starts with Moms. And we, as a society, are ignoring them.

It needs to stop.

In Karen Kleiman’s book, Therapy & The Postpartum Woman, there’s a bold yet tragic statement made not too far into the book in regards to finances and therapy: “There is no easy solution for this barrier to treatment.”

As women, we explain away why we can’t afford to spend money on our own wellness. We can’t afford to miss work. We have bills to pay. Our kids need this or that. The family needs this. I have to ask my husband first. The house.. the car… the …. this… that… STOP. Just stop.

YOU ARE WORTH IT.

And if you truly can’t afford the care, if you don’t have insurance, if the therapist doesn’t take insurance and the sliding scale doesn’t work with your realistic budget, if the therapist doesn’t have a sliding scale – I have a solution. But I am going to need a hell of a lot of help to make it become a reality. Postpartum women deserve a voice. They deserve to have it heard by a trained and knowledgeable professional so they can recover and live life with their children, their loved ones, and themselves to the fullest.

Will you help me?

I have a dream.

A non-profit which helps women pay therapy bills. Helps to alleviate medication costs. Possibly childcare so they CAN go to their appointments. For therapists and professionals to participate in this network, they would be required to maintain certification in regards to Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders. Guaranteed knowledgeable professionals and financial assistance? We can do this.

This is  idea has been marinating for quite some time now. Not too long ago, I had a discussion with a dear friend of mine. She can’t go to therapy because of the cost. Because it costs to see the doctor. It costs to see the therapist. It costs for the case manager. She can’t afford it. Won’t go on meds because she can’t afford the return visit and would have to go off cold-turkey after just one month until she could afford to go again. She’s applied for assistance but someone is dragging their feet. She’s not postpartum but she’s stuck in limbo and struggling like hell just to stay afloat. It’s not right.

I can’t keep this idea to myself any longer. It’s time to set it free. To make it a reality.

Beyond the above idea, I don’t have a plan. I don’t know where to start. I need help. I need people knowledgeable about setting up non-profits. I need people knowledgeable about medical billing and how we would even begin to provide assistance. Fund-raising. Research. The whole nine yards. I need volunteers. I need professionals familiar with mental health willing to serve on an advisory board. On a board. If you can’t help directly, share this post with someone who might be able to help. Or with someone who knows someone – make this viral. Postpartum women deserve to not have to add “worried about cost” to their concerns.

I can’t do this alone. But together we can drastically change the landscape of hope for women with Postpartum Depression. We can make recovery a reality for so many.

Are you in?

Let’s talk.

Let’s do this.

Write on Edge: Inking mythic power

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She stumbled into a dark cave, her breath clouding into the cold mist of the room. As she slid down against the moist rock, a grumble echoed from behind her. A yellow glow filtered into the darkened room, uncovering not one, but two hydras nearly snout to snout with each other. Their eyes slid open as they glared at each other. Blackened pupils wrapped around amber slits speckled with green. Their breath exploded suddenly, filling the cave with deafening roars and flames. Gasping, she turned and ran toward the exit. Flames surrounded her, fanned toward the ground. As she turned for one final glance, a large bird, aflame with crimson and honeyed feathers rose from in between the two hyrdras. The cave opened as the bird stretched and grew, furiously feeding upon the fury between the two battling wyrms. Extending it’s eyes upward, the bird continued the skyward flight, desperate to escape the chaos and carnage. She stared, unable to stop watching even as the flames swallowed her whole.

Sitting suddenly in bed, heart seizing and breath breaking, she gulped deeply of the life still fighting within her. Stumbling to the bathroom, she glanced in the mirror. Resting upon the whole of her back and wrapping around to her hips and shoulders, two angry dragons birthing a spectacular Phoenix caught her eye as she passed the mirror in the hall. She smiled, finding refuge in the brute force impregnanted just beneath her skin.

This post inspired by today’s Write on Edge prompt – Tattoos. The above describes the tattoo I have planned for my entire back, hips, and upper shoulders once I hit my goal weight. I’ve wanted this tattoo for several years now and cannot wait until I finally have it inked on my skin. Given everything I’ve been through, this tattoo will be extremely powerful and meaningful for me. Want to read more stories about tattoos? Go check out the Write on Edge prompt today.

Postpartum Depression & Faith: There will be a day

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[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=le-TG4sRRiQ]

I know the journey seems so long
You feel you’re walking on your own
But there has never been a step
Where you’ve walked out all alone

Troubled soul don’t lose your heart
Cause joy and peace he brings
And the beauty that’s in store
Outweighs the hurt of life’s sting…

(lyrics sourced here)

For more than a few months now, I’ve comforted several women struggling with Postpartum Depression who have also found themselves struggling with fitting their experience into the constraints of their Christian faith. Over the past few years, stories shared with me have ranged from uplifting and powerful to heartbreaking when the church has literally turned their back on a woman as she struggles with the very real condition of a Postpartum Mood Disorder. These experiences have led me to write this post today for World Mental Health Day. Please start the video above as you read…it adds a powerful aspect to the post.

Pray Harder

Depressed? Christian? PRAY HARDER. Fall to your knees. Lie prostrate on the ground. Weep. Wail. Gnash your teeth. Live for Him and nothing else. Beg for mercy. Pray. Read your Bible. Lean on Him. He’ll save you. You’re not leaning hard enough on God. There’s nothing wrong with you beyond a distorted and failed relationship with God. Don’t believe in a psychiatric diagnosis. It’s malarky. Your faith isn’t strong enough and that’s why you’re struggling.

If I had a dollar for every woman who has ever shared any of the above anecdotes with me? I’d be rich. Okay, well, maybe not rich but I’d be able to afford Starbucks for quite awhile. Yes, falling away from God may cause issues in your life but a psychiatric disorder after childbirth is NOT one of those. Hell, a mental health issue period is not one of them. There is no shame in a diagnosis. Not to shame them for taking medicine. Not to shame them for admitting to struggle.

Jesus walked the Earth to love those who were lost. As Christians, we are to follow in His example. To love people WHERE THEY ARE. Not to judge them. Not to guilt them into shame. Not to further add to their already overburdened lives. But to Love. To relieve their burden. To help. To accept. To LOVE.

The Bible is filled with people who struggled with depression for a number of reasons…. Cain, Abraham, Jonah, Job, King Saul, Jeremiah, David, Paul… and God still loved them. He guided them out of their darkness and into their light. Now granted, they didn’t have Xanax or Prozac back then, but God still loved them WHERE THEY WERE. They were provided for during their recovery.

I don’t view my episodes of Postpartum OCD as punishment. Instead, it is a point in my life during which I learned a lot about the depth of my strength and about the grace of God. I learned to lean harder on Him, not because I had sinned, but because He was there. I learned how to pray, not because I had forgotten, but because He was there. I learned how to live for Him, not because I had failed, but because through living for Him, I found solace and hope. In Him, I found hope, solace, and love.

God creates us in His image and knows what our life holds well before we do. He loves us even when we don’t love Him back. He knows where and if our path returns to Him even if we do not. When I first struggled with Postpartum OCD, my path was far away from God. But through my experience, I found my way back to Him. I crawled up into His lap much as an exhausted child does at the end of the day with a parent. I rested my weary body and soul in Him so that I might heal. He did not judge me. He accepted me. Did not question my past. Forgave it. Loved me just as he did before.

I hope against hope that one day, within the faith community as a whole, there WILL be a day when all will be accepted equally. When those of us with mental health struggles will not be told we can solve it with simply praying harder. That we will not be told medications are evil. That there will be a day when, instead, we will be loved, accepted, cherished, and given a place we can rest as we heal.

There will be a day.

But to get to that day?

We must not let our voices be silenced. We must speak up. We must share. We must tear down the stigma of mental illness within the Church. Within the walls of our faith. We must refuse to accept the judgment of those in the Church against us. We must rise up and love them even when they do not love us. It won’t be easy. It won’t make our journey less difficult. But one day, for someone, somewhere, it will lighten their load. It will make a difference in the life of someone else. And one day? It might make a difference in yours too.

There WILL be a day… “with no more tears, no more pain, and no more fears.”

(If you are a woman of faith struggling with a Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorder, please visit Out of the Valley Ministries. I would also highly recommend picking up a copy of The Lifter of My Head: How God Sustained me through Postpartum Depression by Sue McRoberts.)

I blog for World Mental Health Day