The strangest part of this..whatever it is…is that I have such a hard time remembering things. When I’m feeling really, really, awful, I try hard to remember good times I’ve had recently. I know I’ve had really good times with friends, with Mike and the kids, but I just can’t remember them in any detail if it’s been more than a week or so since they happened. I tell myself that if I focus on the positive things in the past, I can imagine them happening again. The problem is that I just can’t remember them – no matter how hard I try.
Also attached to this memory problem is the fact that I do things – like send an email – and within thirty seconds, I can’t actually remember if I’ve hit the send button or not. I actually emailed my dad a second time a few weeks ago because I honestly had no recollection of whether I hit send or not. Turns out I should have checked my sent mail folder first…
I’ve always had issues with short term memory, but never this bad. It’s like walking quickly through a busy room with only one thought in your head – reaching the door. Once you are outside in the quiet, you might remember glimpses of people or things happening, but generally the whole experience is a blur. It should be a blur – that was the point – get through the room and out the door. What is in the room doesn’t matter.
But when the “room” is equal to a week or a month or a year, this lack of memory becomes distressing.
At this point, there are two options in my mind; hypothyroidism, for which I have much of the symptoms (and family history on both sides), or postpartum depression. The list of symptoms are remarkably similar.
Right now I’d take the thyroid problem any day. Something physical that can be fixed with medication or the avoidance of certain foods. I actually told Mike last night that I’d rather have cancer than postpartum depression. And I meant it.
I just can’t imagine getting a whole lot of support or sympathy from certain people if this ends up being postpartum depression that I’m suffering from. In fact, I can’t imagine telling anyone in the family if that is my diagnosis. A diagnosed physical problem would certainly elicit a few more offers of help. And a physical problem can be fixed. I want to fix this. It’s killing me.