artificial insemination kit for humans
About a year and a half ago, I wrote about my decision to use medication for anxiety and depression after hitting a low point in my life. It was transformative. I felt like a new person, a much better version of myself. However, the roots of my struggles are complex. Was it becoming a mother at 18? The toxic dynamics with family in-laws? Unresolved eating disorders from my teens? Postpartum challenges? Watching my sibling achieve milestones that I felt I had missed out on? I can’t pinpoint one cause.
What I can say for certain is that starting that medication was a lifeline for me.
What many readers didn’t know is that shortly after that initial relief, I stopped taking the medication. I gained 10 to 12 pounds, and for me, that was a turning point. It may sound absurd, but my weight became more significant to me than the desire to escape my life. So, I discontinued the medication and skipped my follow-up appointment.
Months later, I returned to my doctor, asking for a different medication that wouldn’t lead to weight gain. After a couple of weeks on it, I stopped again, paralyzed by the fear of gaining weight. Yes, I preferred to be a depressed, anxious wreck rather than take medication that might cause a few extra pounds.
Then, in January 2021, I hit an even lower point. I thought I had experienced rock bottom before, but this time was different. I was deeply suicidal, anxious, and felt utterly lost. I went back to my doctor and asked for the very medication I had previously avoided due to weight gain, declaring that I would rather be “overweight and happy” than continue in my absolute misery.
What people didn’t realize was that during my hiatus from medication, I held pills in my hand multiple times, contemplating the unthinkable. I envisioned myself in my closet, considering the end. I imagined driving away from my family, thinking, “This is the moment.” I even wrote letters to my loved ones, wishing for an “accident” to relieve them of the burden of my existence. The nights were filled with tears, and I found myself lashing out at my husband and kids for no reason. My anger was directed at myself. I wanted it all to end, and that feeling only intensified.
I felt too ashamed to seek help. I knew what I needed—medication—but I was too proud to admit it to my doctor or my family. I wore a facade of happiness while crumbling inside, convinced that my loved ones would be better off without my struggles.
But in January of this year, I mustered the courage to contact my doctor, pleading to resume my medication. I told them that if I didn’t start treatment again, I might not be here in six months. I even stated, “I’m willing to gain weight if it means feeling better.”
I thought about my children and how they would cope if I weren’t around, worrying whether they would blame themselves. I pictured my husband, devastated, holding our boys and questioning whether he could have done more. I imagined my parents feeling guilty for not being able to help me, and my siblings mourning the loss of a sister.
Despite the shame I felt for being so unhappy, I knew I had to share my decision to return to medication with my husband. I initially hesitated to tell my parents, not wanting to add to their worries. I already felt like a burden.
I’ve come to realize that feeling “stuck” isn’t how life should be. Discovering that not everyone experiences daily suicidal thoughts was eye-opening; I had assumed it was normal because I had lived with them for so long. But it isn’t normal.
I felt hopeless, even with a good life filled with love and support. I grappled with intrusive thoughts, imagining tragic accidents while driving and feeling overwhelmed by anxiety that made even getting out of bed seem impossible. Guilt consumed me—why did I feel this way when I had so much to be grateful for?
Recently, I returned to my doctor, admitting that the medication wasn’t working as well as it had initially. Now, I am on two antidepressants, anti-anxiety medication, and a sleep aid. I no longer feel ashamed for needing these supports. I want to be happy for myself and for my children, who deserve to remember a joyful mom.
At 26, I realized that I couldn’t recall a time in my adult life when I was genuinely happy. But I am determined to change that. I want to fight for my happiness for my family and for myself.
If you’re struggling, please know you’re not alone. Seek help. You deserve it. Life can be incredibly challenging, but there is support available, and you owe it to yourself to pursue happiness and a fulfilling life.
You. Are. Not. Alone. Don’t give up.
For additional resources on mental health and home insemination, you can check out this helpful blog post. For more information on home insemination kits, visit Cryobaby. You can also find great support through March of Dimes for pregnancy and home insemination.
Search Queries:
- home insemination kit
- self insemination methods
- how to choose an insemination kit
- best home insemination techniques
- understanding artificial insemination
Summary:
This article discusses the author’s journey with psychiatric medication for anxiety and depression, detailing the challenges of mental health stigma, the struggle with body image, and the importance of seeking help. It emphasizes the need for support and the determination to achieve happiness for oneself and loved ones.