Category Archives: Going Blue 4 U

So You Think Twitter is Useless Part II

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Subtitle: I was a Twitter Stalker

Severe postpartum depression latched onto my daughter. It was totally unexpected and initially none of us knew what was wrong or what to do to help. We just knew that a change had come over this precious daughter. I liken it to a monster taking over. I couldn’t phone constantly. Email didn’t work and I couldn’t lurk up the street, but I needed to know whether things were okay (or not). You might ask why I didn’t intervene. She has always been very independent. Her first sentence was “Do it self Mom”. She and her husband are adults and deserve to run their own lives. She already felt inadequate. It didn’t seem right to make it worse. So I watched Twitter. I monitored her tweets. She had her own list on my feed. You may think it odd but it was the only way I had of knowing when she was particularly stressed.

As well as working fulltime and housework she tried to look after her extremely busy and challenging child on Sundays so her husband, a stay-at-home dad, could have a much needed break. It was hard for her and meant she had no time at all to herself. Both young parents were sleep deprived with a child who didn’t sleep well at the best of times and the stress was elevating.

Ultimately she said that if she had called for help and I hadn’t been available, she would have fallen apart. The light came on. My job is unpredictable; I might have been out. So she rarely called. In addition she thought looking after the child was as hard for me as it was for her. It wasn’t but at that time we didn’t know why it was hard for her. I am a grandmother and can go home at the end of the day but most importantly, depression didn’t have me in its nasty claws.

So I used to monitor her Twitter feed. I learned not to call too soon or she’d say no. She felt that she needed to cope on her own. She has always been so competent it must have been a horrendous blow to find herself unable to resolve the problem. But I learned to know when she was having a really hard time. She tweeted hidden calls for help.

Eventually she found a Twitter community centered around postpartum depression. That helped her more than anything else, more than doctors who made it worse for a very long time by not diagnosing or medicating correctly. More than local family or friends, because those online friends had been there; they understood. They knew it wasn’t weakness, that it was a depression condition that needed time, medication and support. So that is the really important part of why Twitter is not useless, Part II. Those Moms are there for each other. A shout for help gets a response. They rally round each other. I believe they are saving lives. There is always someone online because they are all over the world. There are postpartum “graduates” who give back, helping others hang on just as they were helped.

On New Year’s Day she made a life changing decision: that she would be brave and bold and start blogging about her experience, being honest and putting herself out there. I will forever retain the image of her sitting in the light from the window telling us with a slight quiver in her voice what she was going to do. Writing helps. Sharing helps. She has come so far that she is now part of the group that can help others. She has come so far that I hope the Stranger is permanently gone.   She has contributed to 2 published books on the subject which you can find through her blog, one ebook and one distributed through Amazon. It has led me to emulate some of her PPD friends and dye my hair blue to raise awareness. The support my son-in-law has given all of us is impossible to measure, but that is another post. Would it be blasphemous to say Twitter helped her as much as the medical people?

Going Blue Stories

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The number of people whose lives have been touched by depression that I have encountered since going public with Going Blue 4 U is overwhelming. And those are only the ones who have spoken to me. I am beginning to think I scarcely know anyone who has not been impacted by depression, either that of a family member, close friend, or of their own. Everywhere I go people approach to tell me their stories, in the grocery store, as I am working, as I am walking along a street. The people who contact my daughter are the people who are suffering depression themselves. The people who are talking to me are the people who have those people in their lives. They too need help. They are recognizing our roles. Can I tell you of a few? Circumstances and places are altered to protect people’s identities:

There is the mother whose adult child has a severe mental illness and needs care and supervision to ensure that he takes his medication so that he doesn’t harm himself or commit suicide. She is stressed every day all day because she is it. He is not in a state to call a helpline. She has to be on guard to do it or to intervene.  She is not getting younger.

 Several people whose parents committed suicide have spoken to me. They wonder, will it happen to me? Will it happen to my child?  They wonder, why were we not enough? Why was I not able to help?  Sometimes it was pain, sometimes it was being unable to cope any longer, sometimes it was isolation. Sometimes the person didn’t leave any reason. Perhaps there was no reason but depression. There are so many stories.

There is the person whose spouse underwent a personality change that was dramatic and whose young children have been devastated by the loss of their parent because that parent denied the problem and would not seek help. 

There are the parents whose adult child committed suicide and who had done everything they could but found that it was not enough. Now that child’s children are relying on them to a great extent. They are not getting younger.  

There is the young woman whose mother committed suicide and who now has children and suffered tremendously from postpartum depression. 

There is the mother whose gentle child is being bullied. Who lives in fear that she will become a suicidal teen because she feels unaccepted and alone. 

Everyone mentions the embarrassment and stigma involved. Everyone mentions that they feel they have no one to talk to. Everyone mentions that they have been judged by someone they hoped would give them a shoulder to lean on or some support. I have received so much love for caring that I am humbled.

The overwhelming part is how heart rending the stories are and how relieved the individuals are to be able to talk with someone they feel has been there and understands. I am not a professional in the health, social work or psychology field. Maybe that is a good thing. Maybe that’s why they can tell me without shame. It’s grassroots sympathy I can dispense. I know better than to give advice, except for the “get help before you get desperate” nature.

We will not have a major impact like celebrities who can raise huge amounts of money. But it seems that there is an impact and perhaps it is not so remote. So I am truly thankful. We are raising a small amount of money; we are raising awareness in a small way. You can donate HERE. If the result is a few more people whose lives are saved, who are willing to ask for help because they know they are not alone, or who are able to carry on because of receiving some moral support, because they can see that it is truly possible to come out the other side, I will be happy. I can also see a future for this grassroots movement to be successful where perhaps governments are failing and health professionals are failing. They may be failing because there are not enough resources and not enough trained practitioners.  Maybe we have to help ourselves more.