postpartum depression

Five Years Ago

anxiety, depression, Faith, God, inspiration, mental health, postpartum depression, Uncategorized

5 years ago.

Today.

It was November 17, 2014.

A day I will never forget.

The days leading up to it I had been experiencing mild anxiety and “the baby blues” after the birth of our daughter, Bella. She was born on October 18, 2014. I had gone to the doctor telling her my symptoms and she prescribed me an antidepressant.

The following morning, after taking the medication the day before, is when it all began.

It’s when postpartum depression and anxiety hit me like a freight train.

It was a Monday morning, I remember Josh leaving for work, and then laying in bed and the most awful feeling of dread that I’d never experienced before overtook me. My stomach began to hurt in a way that, also, I had never experienced before. My cheeks got flushed and were burning and were visibly red.

And then the thought crossed my mind. A thought of the bottle of Ambien pills that I knew were in the dresser next to me. Why did I have that thought? I felt like I wanted to die. I felt like I was dying.

That’s when the panic set it. The first panic attack.

That’s the day postpartum depression hit.

The day the Enemy invaded my mind.

From that moment, that Monday morning in our little apartment in Denver, Colorado, where we were living at the time…from that moment is when I entered a battlefield.

A battle that I did not sign up for.

I had to leave Colorado, with our newborn daughter, and fly on a plane with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, leaving my husband behind, to go back to East Texas. To go stay with my parents for what we thought would be a short time. We didn’t know what was going on with me. Thought it was just a bad reaction to the medication.

But, as time wore on and I continued to get worse, we eventually realized that I was fighting against a mental illness.

The next three months were indeed a living hell. Every morning, without fail and like clockwork, I’d wake up with that feeling of dread, and have a panic attack – shaking uncontrollably, thinking and saying irrational things. My mind was out of control…and then I would throw up. It was a cycle, a cycle that kept me in it, and kept me terrified that I was never going to get better. Satan shouted lies to my nearly every moment during my battle.

But…

God.

God intervened at just the right time.

Every day I would see crows and buzzards in the towering, black, dead tree that was in the backyard. The crows “ca-cawing” sound triggered that pit in my stomach.

Until, God “sent help from heaven”, and sent me a wren. A tiny bird that sat on the red rocking chair of the back porch of my parent’s house. It looked in at me through the glass window, a mere two feet away. It looked me straight in the eyes. I felt that I was standing in the presence of God. Our eyes interlocked, and God was the gentle whisper of the wind by gently, but boldly, reminding me of His presence. That He was near. That I WAS going to get better. He whispered and breathed HOPE into my heart, mind, and soul.

Not long after that, I finally found a psychiatrist and she, after diagnosing me with “severe postpartum depression and anxiety”, prescribed me with a new medication.

I took the medicine in February of 2015, and the next day…was the first day in 3 months that I did not have a panic attack!

It brings a lump to my throat now as I write these words and remember…

God saved me.

God healed me.

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow!”

And then,

The Joy!

They joy that permeated throughout my entire being.

The smile on my face, the laughter.

The inexplicable happiness that my husband felt after fighting alongside me and after witnessing, helplessly, his wife suffer in agony, just as he suffered. The happiness on my Mom and Dad’s faces as they were truly also in the trenches with me every day. My sister. My brother-in-law. My in-laws. All of my family. My friends.

My daughter.

Oh, my precious, beautiful little Isabella. I could now finally be the mom to her that I’d been longing to be for her. She kept me going each day. Looking at her and knowing that I had to fight, I had to fight this battle, for her.

And so I did.

And, I won.

God reached His hand down to me and rescued me from the angry waves.

I, we . . . my husband and I, could finally enjoy our daughter.

Has it been a heck of a journey since finding my healing that day in February?

Yes.

It has had its twists and turns, ups and downs.

But here I am.

5 years later.

Here I stand.

Here Josh and I both stand, together.

He was my rock and has always been my strength.

My lifesaver.

And here we are, our daughter is five years old now.

The joy she brings to us . . . there are no words. She is the light of our lives. She’s my best little friend, and I love her with all of my heart, mind, and soul.

Wounded?

Yes, both Josh and I still carry wounds, 5 years later . . . every year this time of year, I think we will always be triggered. It brings about so many emotions. Sadness, thankfulness, anger, frustration.

It was a loss.

My counselor encouraged me to give myself the permission to allow myself to grieve. You can grieve over a number of things. This is something I continue and that Josh continues to grieve over.

The loss of “what should have been.”

The loss of enjoying and soaking in those precious moments of our first child’s newborn days.

It’s okay to feel these things.

To have those moments where, you don’t feel so thankful.

Where you do feel mad, angry – feeling that we were robbed. I think it’s okay to voice those thoughts and feelings to God. He can handle what we have to say to Him.

He understands.

He wants us to talk to Him.

He’s listening.

I want to honor my feelings.

Not push them away, or feel guilt for the times when I’m not looking at things on the bright side. That’s reality. The push and pull . . . between how you want to feel, ideally, and how you really feel.

But, I cannot get stuck there. Go there, yes, but I must try and not get stuck.

And this I do know.

This is a story written by the hand of God.

My story.

Our story.

He orchestrated everything.

Not saying He caused any of it to happen,

But the Great I AM,

The Creator, Artist, Master of the Universe,

He orchestrated the beautiful moments.

He allowed me to see that what I went through was spiritual warfare.

Through nature, it was such a strong visual to me,

Of God vs. Satan.

Black buzzards that sometimes even flew in circles above me as I sat outside some days when I was sick.

The Enemy. Darkness.

And then the wren. That tiny bird with the most beautiful birdsong that began to sing to me outside my window every morning, after God knew I’d heard enough of the crows taunting voices.

This is a tale of Victory!

Of Triumph!

The Light won!

Over the past few days leading up to this anniversary, I’ve been a rollercoaster of emotions.

I’ve cried so many tears.

I’ve felt deep frustration and anger at times that we had to go through it. Frustrated that anxiety is still very present in my life.

Wanting so desperately to feel gratitude and thankfulness . . . and, at times, feeling this wholeheartedly. But frustrated that I still experience so much fear. I suppose PTSD, as my counselor has mentioned to me before that it sounds like I have that a little bit.

Yesterday, I went for a run. I needed to let some energy out and all these negative emotions were building . . . I ran so hard and it was so good for me.

I had been feeling in a place of defeat.

Defeat?!

You might wonder why would I feel that?

And that’s where I’d like to say,

That is Satan.

Satan trying to be conniving . . .

Trying to convince me of lies . . .

To steal, again . . .

To steal from me of how I truly should feel.

As I was on my run, ironically enough,

I saw my Enemy.

My trigger.

It was a beautiful, sunny day.

And, out of nowhere,

Appears a lone, black buzzard,

Flying in the sky.

He was flying above, getting closer.

I looked up at him

As he was right above me.

He looked down at me for a moment.

Moment of truth, it felt like.

And then, it kept on flying.

Away from me.

It was a powerful, profound moment.

Perhaps it was Satan realizing not to mess with me.

Or perhaps it was me realizing

That Satan ain’t got nothing on me!

Keep flying, away from here,

Away from me.

You were never welcome,

And you’re never welcome back again.

I’ll start seeing myself now

The way I need to see myself!

Satan’s lies are soon turned to deaf ears,

For I will not listen to him anymore.

I will see myself

How God wants me to see me.

I fought.

I won.

I am not defeated.

Satan is defeated, and I shall trample upon him.

I am a warrior,

“Linzena the Warrior Princess”!

I’m a fighter.

I am strong.

God has given me strength.

5 years later.

And here I stand.

I await the sun to rise this morning,

That marks five years postpartum.

I await the sun to rise,

And rise with it I will.

I will continue to rise,

To hold my head up high,

Proud of myself

For how far I’ve come.

Rise, rise, rise.

Grow, grow, grow.

Shine, shine, shine.

Live, live, live.

Laugh, laugh, laugh.

I am a warrior.

I will raise up my sword today

Up to the sky,

Declaring victory!

I will, with strength and pride,

Carry my shield.

I will stake my claim,

Placing my flag into the ground.

My claim is the right to love myself,

After all I’ve been through,

And to not let the negative self-talk continue on.

I stand upon the enemy’s back,

Yes, he’s trampled upon beneath my feet.

Today, the time has come.

Watch me Rise!

A Story

anxiety, christianity, depression, God, inspiration, mental health, postpartum depression

Is there a specific event, a time in your life that you can recall as being very significant?

Perhaps it even has a date with it, a day that when it comes up on the calendar…you remember. It could have been one of the happiest moments, or days in your life. A day that when you reflect back on it, it brings joy to your heart and a smile to your face.

Or, there might be an event that has the opposite effect on you when you remember. The memory of that time brings about negative emotions. Pain, fear, anxiety, trauma, regret, sadness.

This time of year usually brings about mixed emotions for me since going through my own dark, specific event that I’ll never forget. October is a beautiful month where the trees’ leaves change colors and the crisp, cool air brings about an energy with it. It is also one of my favorite months because it is the month that my daughter has her birthday and we celebrate her life and the joy she continues to bring to us.

After October, comes the month of November on the calendar. As the seasons change and the colorful leaves start to fall, for me it sometimes can still trigger painful memories.

I’ll always remember the date for me. November 17, 2014.

It was when I got blindsided by an illness that came out of left field. That I was not prepared for. It was an unwanted diagnoses. Postpartum depression.

It was a time when I was supposed to be my happiest. My daughter, our first baby, was born just one month prior. But I was sick. I was in a dark, scary place in my mind. Depression and anxiety were both playing off each other so well.

The good news to that story is that I got better! God healed me!

When I look back on the almost now past five years, it can bring me to tears. Sometimes I can get so focused on the negative things that happened because of PPD and the challenging journey it has been ever since finding healing years ago. The ways I have felt stuck. Enslaved to fear. Anxiety as my seemingly constant companion.

But…I MUST remind myself…

Look at how far I’ve come! Look at what all I’ve done since that time! What all I’ve overcome, how I have stepped out of my comfort zone countless times?!

THIS is what I need to focus on. It’s so hard for us to see this sometimes, because we are often our worst critic and do not give ourselves credit. We forget to see the beauty and to thank God for all He has done for us.

What event is it for you, that you need to release your grip from? To release to God? To come to peace with the fact that you might not ever know “Why?” Why it happened. But to thank God that you are standing where you are now. Thank Him that your heart is beating. That you are breathing. He has a purpose for you. You made it through, because You Are A Warrior.

Whether you see yourself that way or not…look yourself in the mirror and say those words out loud. “I am a warrior!” Let the tears fall. Let the lies vanish from your mind. Let the walls you’ve built to protect yourself come down. Let TRUTH permeate into the hardest parts of your heart. Let your heart soften to God’s truth. That He LOVES you. That you are fearfully and wonderfully made.

And that dark memory…that date on the calendar that you don’t like to think about?

Know this.

“That’s not my whole story.

That’s a PART of my story.”

PPD is only a chapter in my story. A significant chapter that in many ways changed my life, for the better and in not so many great ways. It left wounds yes, but these invisible scars also remind me. They remind me of the almighty God who longs to rescue us from peril, who shows up to comfort us in our darkest hour.

But that chapter? It Does Not Define Me. It left me feeling crippled, weak and like I had failed after it was all over. It has held me down, held me back, for a long time. I’ve stepped out boldly and grown, and yet in many ways fear still keeps me a prisoner, because of the memories that still pop up from time to time of this traumatic event.

Perhaps I’m realizing, ever so slowly, that PPD does not define me. That’s just a part of my story. God has orchestrated a beautiful life for me from the time His daughter took her first breath.

There’s a purpose for me. I have not just ONE story to tell, but HUNDREDS of stories!

Of feeling God in the whisper of the wind through the pine trees at church camp as a little girl. Hearing him in the whisper of the wind. Of the moment when I met the man that God designed and made just for me, who is now my husband of eight years. Of feeling sheer delight, adrenaline and a bundle of nerves when jumping on the plane as newlyweds and moving across the world to the Land of the Long White Cloud. New Zealand. Of trekking across volcanoes. Standing underneath a waterfall and feeling it wash over my skin. Standing in fields of wildflowers, knowing that my God is a creative artist, and that He loves me. Of watching my daughter being born…hearing her cry for the first time, and the feeling of euphoria and indescribable love wash over my heart.

If you are in a place where you are struggling right now, or feel stuck in an event…please believe and KNOW that there is more to your story. There is More to You.

God ain’t done with me yet, and He ain’t done with you.

So keep on. There’s a beautiful life ahead of you, with HUNDREDS of grand stories for you to tell.

#worldmentalhealthday

The Wren

anxiety, depression, Faith, inspiration, mental health, postpartum depression, Uncategorized

The wren came to me during my darkest hour.
I was sick.
The sun wasn’t shining.
It was raining.
Clouds covered the heavens.
I was lost.
Lost in terrifying, paralyzing thoughts.
Thoughts I’d never had before.
That were not me.
That rose up within me a feeling that was truly paralyzing me.
Anxiety.
I had just given birth to our daughter a month before.
My husband and I’s first child.

So, why did I feel this way?
Where was the elation?
The happiness?
It was like someone had injected poison into my veins.
Fear.
Worry.
Dread.
Panic.
I was sick.

The postpartum depression was powerful.
It was a living, breathing being.
It truly had a life of its own.
It had become the enemy.
It was my enemy.
Attacking me.
I was fighting back, desperately.
Fighting just to stay alive.
It felt like it was winning.

Every day I would awaken to the sound of black crows.
“Ca caw!! Ca caw!!”
Dread.
Just before the sun would arise each day,
While darkness filled the sky,
The panic attacks would overtake me.
During those three months, I awoke to a panic attack.
And I awoke to the sound of the enemy outside my window.
The black crow taunting me.
And seeing the buzzards that lived in the dead tree behind the house.

Imagine the fear I had!
The visual imagery.
It was winter.
Everything was dead around me.
The buzzards looked down upon me from the towering, lifeless tree.

Hopeless.
I wanted to live, and yet I wanted the suffering to end.

I stood outside that day.
Staring up at the sky.
A break in the clouds.
I saw the sunlight streaming down from heaven.
And then, I heard him.
Faint at first, and then its song reverberated throughout the dark forest.
The melody was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
I couldn’t see the bird.
I didn’t see him for a long time.

Days later, I sat in the living room, feeling especially depressed that particular moment.
I stood up and walked to the back window.
And then, I saw him.
He sat on the red rocking chair on the back porch.
Facing my direction.
We were merely two feet away from one another.
I stood still.
He looked at me.
Our eyes locked and we both stared into each other’s eyes.
This is why I believe in Magic.
This is why I believe in God.
In miracles.
In that moment, I felt like that bird was talking to me.
He was telling me, “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

And then, I found something I’d been searching for.
Hope.
Hope flooded my heart.
I knew in that moment, that God was with me.
He had not forsaken me.
From that day forward, I kept seeing and hearing that bird.
That bird called a Carolina wren.
It became known as “my wren”.

He made a nest outside my window.
I started hearing the crows less and less.
I’d awaken to the sound of the wren singing his song outside my window.
Singing so loudly.
Scaring away the enemy.
God is in the whisper of the wind,
He’s in the things we deem as “small.”
Like this tiny, little bird that is known for being shy.
My wren was not shy.
He was sent down from heaven to give me hope.
He knew he had to work his magic.
And he had come at just the right time.
When hope had been failing me.

It was still a journey,
But with the Spring came my healing.
At last.

With the Spring came new life.
The wren’s nest outside my window
Now housed a family of tiny, baby wrens.
Life was beginning again.
Healing.
Redemption.
Life.
I was alive.
God had saved me.
He sent me a wren.
Yes, the wren came to me during my darkest hour.

[Photography credit: Tom Mann]