Finding help

Finding help for my newfound ADDITIONAL insanity was like finding a whore in church.  You know they're probably there, but you have to do some major investigating to smoke 'em out.   Fortunately I already had a therapist for my ORIGINAL insanity, otherwise I'd probably be in a corner somewhere listening to and watching Sheen's Korner on the internet while thinking "boy, that Charlie Sheen really makes a lot of sense these days!" 

I started searching on the internet for help websites and PPD chat and message board communities.  There wasn't much.  And when I found something, no one had posted or replied to posts in quite awhile.  Then I went to the mothership of PPD websites and did a search for help from "someone near me".  I sent an email begging for help and waited.  I checked my phone for new emails constantly.  I was desperate.

Then I got a response.  Some wonderful savior was going to gather info and "get right back to me".  The key words are "get right back to me".   I waited some more.  Two days passed and while I was still looking for local help, I didn't hear anything from this delegated savior.  So, I sent her an email saying that I hadn't heard from her, so if she sent me something, she needed to resend it because I never got it. 

Can you say DROPPED THE BALL?  Or how about GOT THE BIG KISS OFF?  I was devastated.  These were the people who were supposed to be the pros!  I got some half assed email saying she was still pulling the info together and would get back to me soon.  It's a good thing I wasn't sitting in front of my computer waiting because I'd still freakin' be there with roots growing out of my ass.

I called the hospital.  I called my pediatrician.  I called my gyno.  I cried, literally, in front of or on the phone with each person I spoke to.  My OB/GYN looked at me with such pity.  I could see that she was shocked that this person who was laughing constantly during hours of labor was crying pathetically.  "Do you have a therapist?"  "Yes," I sobbed.  "Then I think you should call them."

And that's what I did.  I called my therapist Steve and he started helping me fix my brain.  It was the first time in 9 years that I called and asked for an emergency appointment - not even through divorce, death and drama did I call.  I think he was shocked by the seriousness just by the request for an emergency appointment.  Think about what I just said tho..... divorce, death and drama didn't even put me in this horrific place in my brain.  This was new territory for us all.