This is my story about my journey with hypothyroidism. It is a difficult story for me to tell as I confess the truth of how deeply the disease affected me and how desperate it left me. It is a story that begins with fear, rage, and exhaustion, but ends with hope and joy. It is my hope that in relating the truths of how hypothyroidism affected me that I may help others with the disease.
Before anyone can understand how hypothyroidism affected me, it’s important to understand how I was before the onset of hypothyroidism. I had always been a positive “the glass is half full” sort of person. My husband always told me he most admired my determination and drive. As a parent, I tried my best to practice gentle discipline. Although I had moments where I lost my patience, those moments were few and far between. On the whole, I liked my life. I was not perfect by any means, but I was confidant in whom I was as a mother, as a wife, and as an individual.
However, shortly after the birth of my second child, my nature started to change. The patience that I had typically had in dealing with my typical two-year old diminished. I began raising my voice to her for things that previously never would have bothered me. They were behaviors that were completely developmentally appropriate for a toddler. I was exhausted, but I brushed it off that it was due to having a new baby in the house and not living near friends and family that could help. I assumed that as time went on I would adjust to life with a new baby. I would return to my normal self at that point.
Unfortunately, things did not get better, they only got worse. Depression set in. I felt consumed with periods of intense loneliness and despair. I felt as if no one really cared about me. I believed that no one want to listen about how I was feeling. It seemed to me that most people were disregarding my needs as being unimportant and irrelevant.
My behavior was impacting my entire family. I began striking my toddler. It was nothing hard, but totally unjustifiable in my mind. I started barking at my husband, having little patience for him as well. The exhaustion would leave me barely able to get up from the couch during the day. The housework piled up. Laundry and dishes stacked high. It was all I could do to prepare a meal for my family. I felt completely incompetent. I believed that I was the worse wife and mother possible.
Obviously, my self-esteem and self-confidence plummeted. In addition to disliking how I was parenting and how I was treating my husband, I struggled with my weight. I started attending Weight Watchers. I found that despite following the plan, I was gaining 5 pounds a week. I was frustrated with myself and liked very little of whom I was becoming.
The thing was I was pretty good at not letting on to outsiders how terrible things were for me. I managed to keep up the appearance that I was fine. Many people looked at me as being the mom that had it together. Every time friends and family would compliment me on my parenting, I cringed inside. You don’t know the truth. If you knew the truth, you would be horrified. Pride kept me from admitting the truth.
It all came to a head when my baby was 6 months old. She was a baby that woke frequently through the night, some nights as often as every 90 minutes. My husband, though a wonderful man, had never been a “nighttime parent.” I was completely exhausted and terribly frustrated. At 2 a.m. one evening, I snapped. Out of control, I literally threw her on the bed and started screaming and could not stop. My husband, horrified, pushed me across the room and into a dresser. He was screaming at me, holding our innocent child, and I could not figure out what had happened. I have never, ever been so ashamed of myself. I finally had a glimmer of understanding as to what can happen during episodes of shaken baby syndrome. I felt so unworthy to be a mother.
The next morning at the earliest possible moment I called my midwife. I had to admit that something was terribly, terribly wrong with me. I needed help. I assumed my issue was post partum depression and that my midwife would be able to provide me with a referral to a counselor or psychiatrist. She had me come in for an appointment that day.
My midwife was wonderfully attentive and not the least bit judgmental as she listened to my concerns. I thank God that she created an atmosphere that allowed me to let go of my pride and speak honestly. I wept openly as I spoke with her. We talked about options and suggested a counselor. I thought it odd that she wanted to run some blood work. I was surprised when she mentioned the possibility of hypothyroidism.
When the tests came back, initially I felt relieved that it confirmed I was hypothyroid. It felt good to know that there was a controllable reason for the impatience, the weight gain, and the exhaustion. I had read some about hypothyroidism. Everything seemed to indicate that it was simple to treat. Just take a pill in the morning and life would return to normal.
I’have been taking medication for 8 months now. The truth is that my recovery from hypothyroidism was not as simple as I had originally anticipated. In the first few months, the medication seemed to help. Then my symptoms began creeping back and became even more severe than when I was initially diagnosed. I began struggling with intense, uncontrollable rage. I was frightened to be with my children, fearful that I could snap at a moment’s notice. The shame returned too. I called my physician and went back in to have my levels rechecked. The results revealed that I was severely hypothyroid. My levels were worse than they had been when before I was medicated.
I realized then that my hypothyroidism required more than just a little pill to “fix it.” In addition to adjusting my medication, I have begun a “thyroid-friendly” diet. I have increased my exercise level. I also have been focusing on changing how I think about myself. Managing my hypothyroidism effectively is not just about increasing my energy and losing weight. I must manage my hypothyroidism for the sake of my husband, my children, my friends, and my family. Thankfully, life is finally returning to normal. I have rediscovered my joy and my energy. I have my life back.
For those diagnosed with hypothyroidism, I offer this advice. Understand your disease. Understand your hormone levels. If symptoms persist after medication, revisit your doctor. Learn what you can do to improve your quality of life despite your diagnosis. Control your hypothyroidism, do not let your hypothyroidism control you.
