In my mother's reproductive years, PCOS was unheard of. If she or my aunts suffered from this, I'll never know, as PCOS symptoms were simply another chalk mark in the "whiny woman" category most "female problems" were tossed into. Later, endometriosis and PCOS emerged from the shadows of psychosomatic illness and disbelieving doctors to become legitimate medical diagnoses worthy of research and treatment. I know how lucky I am to be of this era, to at least have the majority of my symptoms recognized and validated as real. I don't have to carry a personal badge of shame for my infertility like so many women before me. But, medicine (and society at large) still stigmatizes so many aspects of PCOS. Many books still tout weight loss as the cure-all for PCOS, without noting how difficult insulin resistance can make this proposition, even with dietary changes and medication. As I work my way back from the dark pull of depression, I am beginning to realize that the risk of mood disorders and depression is the least-talked about aspect of PCOS and the most stigmatized.
I have been seeing my endocrinologist for nearly two years now. I feel validated by and have a good relationship with the entire office. However, it took me breaking down in tears in the office a few weeks ago, for him to reveal how many other PCOS patients suffer mood problems and need medication. This was the first I heard that PCOS can bring on bipolar like symptoms, and carries a higher risk of PMDD, major depression, and other mood disorders. Hormonal imbalances, lack of ovulation, and insulin resistance can all contribute to major mental health problems--but this was glossed over in all my obsessive research on PCOS up until this point.
I had been searching for the "And" for nearly four years. I knew about PCOS, but I fervently believed that PCOS could not possibly be responsible for ALL my symptoms--the crushing fatigue, the mood swings, the lack of concentration, the loss of quality of life. In the past few weeks, I have come to realize that I was searching so hard to find an additional physical cause of these symptoms. I didn't want to have a mental illness, and I simply didn't understand that PCOS could cause or contribute to a mental illness. So I searched and I searched (much of which is well documented on here) suffering misdiagnosis after misdiagnosis.
My new head doctor tells me that she too has seen many, many women with PCOS suffering these problems. She told me that a classic sign is whether problems began around the time of the first period and slowly worsened over time. She sees my problems as the intersection of crappy genetics (a predisposition to mental illness) and PCOS. She said that many doctors don't understand the role PCOS can play in mood disorders, and thus, women suffer wrong diagnoses and inadequate medication. This makes me terribly sad, because I know if it took me this long to get some serious help for my problems, and I mainline Dr. Google, other women are suffering longer.
Also, our societal bias against mental illness of any kind makes women less likely to seek help. It's bad enough that our girlie parts our broken, and it takes tremendous amount of courage to confess to other types of suffering. I know, I was trembling when I decided to seek help for this latest round of depression, and for the first time, I didn't just talk about fatigue and dance around "PMS" in the doctor's office. He had all this help and support waiting for me, but I had to first know how to ask for it.
I think so many of us are unwilling to reveal the full extent of our suffering--Akeeyu describes this brilliantly--because we feel obligated to be funny or snarky. We don't want to wear that mental illness label, to be forced into the "crazy" category or dismissed as whiny or less than sane. It's as if the admission of our suffering will allow others to take us less than seriously. Why? Why,when this IS an illness, and indeed, a facet of an illness with a known organic cause? Are we afraid of being reduced to only that one facet of our being--to Wavybrains, depression blogger, instead of Wavybrains, PCOS, Romance Writer, Teacher, Pet, Husband, Adoption, Knitting AND Depression blogger.
I'm going to put myself out there and talk about my treatment more (along with everything else) in the coming weeks. I have spent hours researching the PCOS/mental illness link, and IT is out there, and I don't want others to have to spend the same lonely google hours, seeking a human voice and reassurance that this is not their fault and that they are not hypochondriac or crazy for suffering like this.
Also, If I don't talk about this, my other topics feel less than honest. I think it was Stephanie (one of many who reached out to me in incredibly beautiful ways) who gave me some much needed tough love that I needed to get a handle on depression before I embarked on this whole kid thing. I had to hear this piece of advice a number of times before it really sunk in. By admitting that I have an illness, a medical problem, I am able to admit that nothing external, like adoption, can solve the depression. I have to get stable so that I can be a better parent, and if that means slowing the adoption process down until I get well, then that is time well spent. My whole life has been impacted by depression, so right now, treating it has to be my number one priority, a backdrop for everything else going on right now.
