You may or may not be aware that we are coming to the end of maternal mental health week. I’ve toyed with different ideas for blog posts to mark this and even considered not writing on the topic. But, even though the topic is very raw for me, I want to be involved in the conversation in some small way. I’ve purposely limited my social media usage this week, posting and checking notifications but not scrolling through my feed to avoid potential triggers. So I thought that, in today’s post, I’d expand on this a little more and explain why I find asking for help and posts that promote this, difficult at the moment.
*Note: These photos were all taken at the height of the depressive episode. Do I look anything other than blissfully happy? No, I didn’t think so. As with other mental health conditions, you can’t tell just by looking at someone whether they’re affected by a perinatal mental health conditions. Certainly for me, one of my coping mechanisms is to appear ‘normal’ in social situations.
It would probably help if I give you a little context about my maternal mental health, so here goes…
If you’ve read my first and/or second trimester blog posts, or follow me on Instagram, it probably won’t come as a surprise when I tell you that, over the past year, it’s become increasingly obvious that I’ve developed PTSD/birth trauma. This is as a result of poor care during pregnancy, delivery and postpartum. It’s because of this that I’ve not been able to write a blog post about my third trimester of pregnancy. I’ve always said that, given Dan’s job as a teacher, I wouldn’t be writing about my birth experience. But, even if this weren’t the case, I wouldn’t be able to write about it even if I wanted to.
Late 2018-early 2019, I experienced a depressive episode. This was triggered by HRT medication, which was put in place by the hospital (where Elise was born and the trauma took place), as a preventative measure because of the risks involved with taking the medication I need to manage my PMS, chronic pelvic pain, menorrhagia and suspected endometriosis. I raised this with the hospital on several occasions, but no help or support was given.
And, now that I’ve given you a little bit of context, lets get to the topic for today’s post – asking for help with maternal mental health conditions and social media.
*Please note, this post is not written to warn people off reaching out for help. Rather it’s purpose is to reassure those who have asked for help and not received it that they aren’t alone. I want to encourage these people to keep reaching out, however hard the knock backs are, because eventually someone will listen and help.
So why am I finding social media challenging, particularly during maternal mental health week? Well, even in the lead up to this week, I noticed a number of posts talking about asking for help with maternal mental health conditions before things get too bad. And it stings, because I did just this time and time again, only to not be listened to until I reached near breaking point.
If you’re a regular reader here or follow me on social media, you probably know that I’m very proactive in my healthcare. I believe that the clinician/patient relationship is a partnership, where we need to work together for the best possible outcome. Trust on both sides is paramount and if either one doesn’t pull their weight, it has a significant impact on the outcome – my health.
This is the main reason for my mental health suffering this past year – medical professionals have let me down time and time again. So, when I see a post on social media, this ideal of asking for help and getting it is painful. Because I did my part by asking the right medical professionals for help and each time, it felt like a door was slammed in my face.
There’s only so many times that you can go through that before you start to question what you’re doing wrong. Am I not asking in the right way? Am I not giving them enough information? Am I downplaying how I’m feeling so they don’t understand the magnitude of what I’m going through? What am I doing wrong?
I’m sure you can see how my brain started to spiral from keep asking for help and not getting it. Even though I knew deep down that it was nothing that I’d done. I’d written things down in black and white, but I still wasn’t listened to.
Finally, some emergency measures were put in place. At this point, I was exhausted from asking for help. Those doors that were slammed in my face (metaphorically of cause), they added another layer to the trauma I was already dealing with. However, the mental health nurse who became involved in my care (for the depressive episode, not PTSD) was fantastic. It was such a relief to FINALLY, be listened to and be under the care of someone who not only listened to understand, but understood why I was felt the way I did. Even to the point of understanding the hell I’d been through with PIP, without me having to spell it out. That was the first time that a medical professional has acknowledged what I went through having to appeal my first decision and then being reassessed while pregnant.
Unfortunately, despite now FINALLY being ‘under the care of’ the mental health service (read: stuck on a waiting list), it hasn’t been plain sailing. I’ve had difficult experiences with certain members of the team that have added to the trauma, but thankfully these aren’t people who are involved directly in my care.
But, I’m now on medication that’s making a positive difference to my mental health. I think I’m out of the depressive episode and I’ve been able to identify when symptoms have started creeping back in and why, which has allowed me to put my own measures in place to reduce the risk of my mental health getting worse.
So, I suppose there are a few messages to take away from this post:
- There isn’t enough support for maternal mental health conditions, or paternal mental health conditions for that matter!
- While well intentioned and correct, posts promoting asking for help with a maternal mental health condition are idealistic. The reality is that you may have to fight for the help you need.
- You might have to keep knocking on those doors, asking for help. But eventually, someone will reach out their hand and give you that support.
No one should, having asked for help, reach their breaking point and have to have emergency support put in place. But, the reality is that it happens.
If you feel that you’re getting to this point or you’re finding that the rejections are hitting your mental health hard, you could consider asking an advocate to step in and support you. There are Family Services set up to provide local information about what’s available in your area. If you can’t find their details, you can speak to your health visitor and they should give you the details you need or make a referral to the service on your behalf.
If you’re struggling and need someone to talk to, you can contact Samaritans on 116 123. They aren’t just for people contemplating or feeling suicidal and they can set up a regular call to check in on how you’re doing if you’d like them to.
Edit (2/5/20): Despite being told that the waiting list was 6-9 months when I was referred (March 2019), I am still waiting. Nothing has been put in place to support me with the trauma I have experienced and I have been left to manage the depressive symptoms that pop up when I’m having a difficult time with PTSD, on my own.
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