I have been having flashbacks. Horrible ones. My lungs constrict, my head spins, and my heart gets stuck in my throat. They knock me off my feet. If I’m driving, I have to pull over. Sometimes I know they’re coming, but usually they slam into me like a car that ran a red light.

My doctors tell me I have post traumatic stress, which is pretty obvious to everyone – I watched my daughter die. But as day 514 crept up, things just got worse and worse. Not only was I sad, but my flashbacks were fast and furious.

My doctors plead with me to try a different medication, one that would head off my flashbacks and anxiety attacks before they started. I usually resist new medicines at first so I can go home and do research and make a decision. This time, however, I was desperate. I wasn’t sleeping well because flashbacks would come at night. I had to stop sleep training Annabel because having her out of site triggered massive anxiety. So I agreed, and started taking the new drug twice a day.

The flashbacks stopped almost immediately. But so did my desire to do anything. I was plunged into a hideously desperate depression, one that I hadn’t felt since the early days after Maddie passed. I wrote about it last week, but my words only scratched the surface. I felt like I was at the bottom of a deep hole, and it was caving in on top of me.

I did manage to motivate to read up about what I was taking. I called my doctor and spoke with her about how I was feeling, and she adjusted my dosage. I started to feel better within 24 hours.

I’m still not feeling like myself, but I’m getting there. I’m glad I reached out to my doctor instead of waiting. I know there’s always an adjustment period when you start a new medication but I shudder to think how much lower I could have fallen if I’d waited until my next appointment.

I want to feel better for her.


I need to.