“I think you’ve been misdiagnosed.”
My therapist said this to me about five minutes into our initial intake session.
“In what way?” I replied, honestly perplexed. I’ve seen a therapist on and off for nearly thirty years, and on only one occasion did a therapist ever mention anything other than depression.
“I believe you have OCD and ADHD.”
I was gobsmacked. The more we talked, the more certain she became. She explained that my depression was most likely a symptom of my other illnesses, rather than its own individual thing. Two formal assessments and a psychiatrist later, it was confirmed: severe OCD and inattentive ADHD.
This was December of last year. I’ve barely begun to scratch the surface of what this means for me and my life. There is real and crushing grief that exists. This notion that so much of my life, so many of my struggles and internal battles may have been avoided, or at the very least more manageable, had I received the correct diagnosis.
The only other time I had heard OCD mentioned was after the birth of my first child. I was wildly unprepared for the intensity of postpartum depression. That first night home from the hospital, I stayed awake the entire night, holding my newborn and crying. It was all-consuming; all rationality was gone. I was fully convinced we had made a mistake; I shouldn’t be a mother, and I needed to exit this world immediately. I called the nurses’ line first thing that morning. I remember sitting in my OB’s office, with my husband and my newborn, just sobbing uncontrollably. I’m so lucky that she took me seriously and already had a therapist lined up to support me, along with medication. I firmly believe that she saved my life.
I only met with the therapist she worked with once. She was very kind, but we didn’t click. She suggested I had Postpartum OCD. I had no idea that it even existed. But I’m depressed? I remember thinking. The way OCD and mental illness in general are portrayed in the media did not align with my symptoms.
Now that I’m more familiar with OCD, and I’ve settled into motherhood, I can look back and recognize how OCD impacted each of my postpartum experiences.
While I was in the thick of it, I began speaking more openly about my experiences both in my personal life and online. I felt blindsided by postpartum, and I was so confused as to why it seemed like I was the only one. Motherhood can be such an isolating experience, especially with a mental illness.
Why was no one talking about this?
The more open I was, the more people sent messages sharing the same experiences. I felt less alone. My posts online were increasingly vulnerable, as sharing the darkest parts of myself allowed others to feel seen, heard, and validated.
So now, at 39 with two fresh diagnoses, I find myself in a similar situation. The more I share my struggles, the more folks share theirs. There’s a sense of community and an innate understanding that is so powerful. Knowing I’m not alone helps me keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I realize there is so much work ahead of me, and at times it can feel daunting and unattainable. But that’s not the point, at least not how I see it anyway. The point is to keep going, even when it’s hard. On the other side is a profound understanding of who we are and how, when we share ourselves, even the not-so-great parts, the world is better for it.
I feel hopeful (and excited) to get to know this version of myself. Slowly but surely, I am becoming the person I was meant to be, and that is only possible through the help I’ve received from therapy, medication, my support system, and a stubborn and steadfast desire to make the most of my one wild and precious life. (I had to sneak some Mary Oliver in there somewhere.)
So, friends, hang on. I promise you there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Jackie is a 39-year-old queer mom of two who currently calls Florida home. She works as a bookseller and loves her job. She loves to travel, read, paint, play rugby, get tattoos, sing Celine Dion loudly in her car, and spend time with her family and friends. You can find Jackie on Instagram at @thecurvycapsule.
Mental illness has a way of making us feel incredibly isolated. We’re here to remind you of the truth that you are not alone. We encourage you to use TWLOHA’s FIND HELP Tool to locate professional help and to read more stories like this one here. If you reside outside of the US, please browse our growing International Resources database. You can also text TWLOHA to 741741 to be connected for free, 24/7 to a trained Crisis Text Line counselor. If it’s encouragement or a listening ear that you need, email our team at [email protected].
For support and resources specific to PPD, visit Postpartum Support International.