Electroconvulsive Therapy and the Family

 When Tea was in Kindergarten, I had serious depression. I had actually been dealing with it from the time she was born. By the December that she was in Kindergarten, I was at the point that I was laying in bed planning my death. That gloomy night that this happened, Tea came into my dark room, sat at the computer desk, and very softly started singing the songs that her class would be performing for her Christmas program at school. I laid in my bed and listened to her, tears silently streaming down my cheeks, and knew that I needed to get help. My little girl needed me around.

I approached my psychiatrist about electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) at my next appointment several days later. He warned me that more people lose memories than the doctors will tell you about. We talked about it over the next several appointments as I saw him every three weeks, and my depression wasn't improving. The only thing that was keeping me alive was the memory of Tea quietly singing her Christmas carols in my room in the dark.

In April 2008, my psychiatrist and I decided that I would have bi-lateral ECT. Bi-lateral ECT is where the doctors put the electrodes on both sides of your head and give you seizures. My first round of ECT was scheduled for early May, and I would be admitted to the hospital for the first three or four rounds. If I responded well, I could have the next few rounds as an outpatient.

In late April (2008), I wrote a letter to myself. I was terrified that I would lose my memories, or become a completely different person and leave my family. One of the parts that I wrote in this letter, and still come back to read, is something I'm going to share with you here.

"The only thing I need to remember about Nick is that he's my soul mate - my lobster. Through the over 12 years we've been together, we've had happy times and sad times, easy times and rough times. We've always made our ways back to each other. We are meant to be together. What I've learned these past two and a half years is that my family means the world to me and I will do just about anything to keep it together. The giving and compromising is a two-way street, and neither of us are door-mats."

This has been really important for me to remember, and I've been going over this letter, especially that part, over these past few months as Nick and I have been dealing with some trials and tribulations. I keep coming back to the part that I had underlined, we are meant to be together.

Nick has been there for me through so much crap. He held our family together when I was in the hospital numerous times, through all my various hospital stays, through depression and manic phases, and through my two ECT treatments. (I had the first round in 2008 and the second round in, hmmm, I don't even remember. Was Matthew born? I can't even remember.) He has been a rock for our family.

Nick's not perfect. I don't think anybody is. But he is my lobster. And as I face some tough choices right now, I remember these times when he was there, the way that he was so supportive, and the way he loved me, and the way he has always loved me. He loves his family the way he can.

The bi-lateral ECT helped me so much, and I did lose some memories. Some came back; some didn't. That debilitating depression disappeared, though, and that was the most important thing, and I was able to function properly.

I was able to come back to my family a better, happier person. I was stable for a long time. It was so nice to be happy.

Here's our family not even a year after my ECT. This was in January 2009. It felt so good to be healthy and happy.

Here we are in 2011:

Here's 2013, after we added Matthew to the family:

2014:

In 2015, we finally had to give up professional pictures, so we had to get a snapshot. Here's our snapshot:

Apparently after 2015, we not longer got family pictures. I now have something to aim for.

Until next week's dirt!