Just Keep Walking

Last night I had the privilege to be home with only my youngest. My sweet hubby took the older 3 to my son's cub scout meeting in order to give me a little down time (although I'd probably get more down time with the oldest 3 together than #4 alone!). ;)

I SAT on the couch, with NO GUILT. The dishes were caught up, I only had 2 loads of laundry to fold and put away, and the 3 main rooms of the house actually looked good. 

As I sat there, I was restless and so was my toddler. I had no desire to turn on the TV, no desire to sit at the computer, and miraculously, no desire to even play on my phone. BUT WHY?? I actually had the guilt free opportunity to do it, yet didn't want to.

A thought came to me to take my little bit for a walk in the stroller.  I usually keep the stroller in the van, but just so happened to have it in the living room in order to fit something in the van to deliver to someone. 

This began a conversation and battle in my mind, that has made me chuckle several times since then.

The conversation went something like this (all in my head):

        "I really should take her for a walk. I need the exercise and she needs a different view."

        "But I'd have to change my clothes. I would have to find her a hat. I'd have to put the dog away. That's too much to do."

        "It would be good for me though. It would be good for her. I don't have to go far."

        "But what if I run into someone I know? I'm not wanting to feel socially awkward right now."

        "Oh, just go!"

        "Ugh. Okay, but only if I can walk to the corner first and get a bottle of water."

        "Fine. Whatever motivates you to get out of the house, then just do it!"

This went on for about 5-10 minutes, arguing back and forth with myself. I even called myself a liar at one point then snorted at myself for thinking that.

>>and NO, I don't feel crazy for having this conversation. Everyone talks to themselves, even if they don't ever admit it. ;) <<

I DID end up taking her for a walk. Once I was out of the house, I was fine. We walked to the corner gas station, then walked for 45 minutes around the neighborhood. It was the longest walk I'd had in over a year.

That's sad.

Honestly, it was only the 4th or 5th time I'd taken her for a walk ever in her 14 months.  Thankfully my hubby takes the kids for a walk 1-2 times a week without me, or she would never know what a stroller is. 

It's not because I'm lazy. In fact, I LOVE walking. We used to hike and walk for hours at many different parks. My stroller used to know the sidewalks of my neighborhood by heart because we were out there every single day.

It's because I'm paralyzed. Mentally paralyzed with fear of the outside world. It makes no sense to me. Yes, I'm and introvert and shy and awkward, but until this past year and half, I've never experienced paralyzing fear and anxiousness about leaving the house. So much so that I rarely leave the house, even to go on a short walk around my neighborhood. 

This past year I've spent more time in my house than I ever have. I remember weeks at a time in which I didn't even step foot outside my door. 

I don't understand it. 

I'm thankful for the 'fight' I had with myself and that I did convince myself to go last night. I had a great time. It was my perfect weather (super cool), baby loved it, and I felt so much better mentally and physically when I got home.  Maybe this fight is the start of breaking free from whatever has me chained in my home.

Oh, and yes, I did run into someone I know. Our mail lady, who is actually a good friend of mine, was at the gas station chatting since she just finished her route. And you know what? I didn't have a heart attack or mental breakdown, instead I enjoyed talking to her. Imagine that. :)

Pathless

Doesn't seem like it's been a week since my last post.  This last week flew by and was so packed and busy.

I'm sure some of you were probably thinking 'she must be doing great since she hasn't been whining and lamenting on her public blog'. ;)  

Although I did have a better week for the most part, my silence was because of the hecticness of the week.  

Actually, when I'm doing okay, I write.  It's when I'm not doing well at all that I'm silent.  Hence the extreme lack of posts over the past year.

This past week I was able to focus and concentrate more in general. I was able to function well, and better than I have in a while. I had several great days in a row where I felt like a 'normal' 35 year old mom and wife. Usually I feel way behind my peers with no hope to ever catch up.

Because of this clearness of mind, I was able to spend time trying to figure out what is wrong with me.

Don't laugh.

 :)

There has to be something physiologically WRONG with me. There has to be something going on in my brain (or more likely NOT going on in my brain). 

I know I struggle with situational depression. I believe everyone does at some point. It behaves as it sounds: the worse the situation, the worse the depression, and vice versa. When the situation improves, depression improves. Now, it CAN develop into major depression, but still is easier to treat than clinical depression.

I have plenty of reasons, i.e. situations, to be depressed over right now. Thankfully I've learned to run to my Father when this type of discouragement sets in. When I adjust my attitude towards my situation and see it through His eyes, I have no reason to be depressed. He only does what is best for us.

I've been doing some research (one of my nerdy fave things to do!) and have been overwhelmed with the information that is out there. There are so many types and names for depression and causes based on everything from general sadness to brain malfunctions.  It's crazy!

um, no pun intended there. ;)

When I look at my own history, I can pinpoint the lowest times. Those times when I was suicidal and hopeless. In recent years, the hardest times have been after the birth of both of my daughters. After my sons I was the best I've ever felt, but the girls have been incredibly difficult to mentally recover from. It had nothing to do with the child specifically either. Okay, well with my second daughter I'm sure she has been part of it. ;)

When I mentioned this to my doctor, she found it quite odd. I've had a few doctors tell me that it shouldn't make a difference. However, since I'm not a big truster of doctors, I've started researching that aspect.

Which also leads me down the road to hormonal imbalance. This, I believe, is genetically inherited, as I've seen many of my aunts, cousins, second and third cousins (or whatever they're technically called) suffer with similar things. Even concentrating back on my childhood I can see them in my mom as well, who was supposedly the 'happiest' of the bunch.  

In order to find this out, I would have to have a series of blood tests that test the levels of different hormones. 

Yeah, I'm sure our insurance covers that. Ha.

The more I researched, the more I was convinced I have a brain tumor in the part of my brain that controls hormones and mood (hypothalamus).  I wish I was being sarcastic here, but I was tempted at one point last week to beg for a cat scan of my brain.

I'm scrambling and trying to figure out a direction to take or explore before the darkness settles in again.  I'm also tracking recent patterns to see if there's a specific time frame or rotating pattern in which the worst occurs. So far it's too jumbled and inconsistent.

I've come to a point where I do NOT at all want to live this way anymore. I'm tired of it controlling me and causing me to miss so much joy in life. 

For those of you praying, this would be a request from me. Pray God leads me down the path that takes me to complete understanding and healing, and to be willing to step out of my comfort zone and do whatever is necessary.

Disagreement

I've had my next 'writing therapy' rolling around in my head the past few days, slowly taking shape as I continue to work through the issues surrounding my depression and mental incapabilities. Things have smoothed over for the most part and the past week has been mostly good. I've been able to keep my mind under control and this has prevented downward spirals that can happen.

I've commented a few times in the past how 'Christians' and 'happy' are forced together.  In the Christian world, if you aren't happy, something is wrong in your spiritual life. I agree with this on some levels. When my spiritual self is starving, the evidence is seen in an increase in sinful behavior, mainly selfishness. Therefore to restore my attitude to a happy one, I need to feed my spiritual self.

However, I also disagree.  And this is hard for me to say, because I've always been preached at concerning happy=Jesus and feeling less when I'm not happy.

There is a physiological reason behind our moods. A part of our brain that controls these emotions. Hormones that work for or against us in how we feel. When these things are out of whack, so is how we act and feel and behave.  Even though in our minds we know the truth, when it is being attacked on every side by physical reactions, acting on the truth is nearly impossible.

Our pastor got up on Sunday to preach, and one of the first statements he made was this: "How happy you are is a direct reflection of how well you know Christ."

Really, God? I was only toying with the idea of confronting this and here I was going to have to listen to an entire sermon on this, the whole time arguing with my pastor in my head, feeling guilty for disagreeing, and feeling like I must not know Christ at all the way things have been lately.

I will interject here in a huge way by saying I am very thankful for our pastor, and I respect him and the way God uses him in our church. He strives to be the man God wants him to be and relies on God's Word in every aspect of life.

As he continued on, I began taking two sets of notes: notes copied from the giant overhead, and notes flowing out of my brain. I was suddenly listening from a different perspective. I was listening as someone who disagreed.

There is a strong difference in my depression when I'm sinning or sulking over God's plan and depression that wraps itself around my entire being and cannot be changed despite how hard I pray, try or attempt to do what's right.

I can tell the difference in these two depressions: one is controllable, one is not.

If his statement were true, no Christian should ever need medication, just an adjustment in their spiritual lives. However this is not solely what happens. God has afflicted even His children with mental disabilities that require the aid of modern medicine.

Now before you think I'm a pill happy addict who pushes and promotes mood altering drugs, please note, I STILL struggle with the fact that I need medication.  It took a lot of time for me to accept it at all, and only after studying it from a scientific standpoint did I start to be okay with it. Okay with it. This is something I'm still working through and sometimes I still have a battle over it with myself.

Even at my darkest moments I can state out loud the truths I know from the Word.  The promises He has given me and proven to me before can easily be recited. At those difficult times, stating these truths does not override the physical issues I am having.

Then it started bothering me that this sermon/statement had gotten me so flustered. It was very curious to me, especially since I have a very low offendability index. Maybe it bothers me because I'm tired of being misunderstood. Tired of the legalism that still seems to be hanging on in this area.

I'm even open to the fact that I may be completely wrong. If so, I am willing to work through whatever is necessary and humble myself to complete change if this allows me to be medication free and mentally stable.

Whatever is necessary for me to be complete in Him.

Which means I still have a lot of praying and searching to do regarding this subject, which may be another step closer to healing.

A Decade Later

When I think of a decade ago, for some reason my mind automatically goes to junior high or high school and all the crazy memories involved with that time in my life. In reality, a decade ago I was 25 years old and had just started my FIFTH year of teaching.  Funny how our minds work sometimes.

A decade ago my life came to a crashing halt.  God allowed the life that I knew to become completely dismembered and destroyed. The pain and shame of that time in my life is still as real as ever if I allow it to be and still have to make the conscious decision to remember grace and forgiveness.

I have no doubt God allowed my life then to be taken to nothing in order to rebuild me. If a building has a crack in its foundation, the only way to make sure it is completely safe and working for its purpose is to tear it down and rebuild the foundation.  In an architectural setting, this is devastating, both for reputation and financial loss.  The pain comes in many areas and the thought of rebuilding isn't joyful unless a good ending has been promised.

I had been consumed with an addiction that controlled me and constantly kept me at a distance from my Father.  No matter how much I pretended or how hard I tried or desired, there was a blockade up preventing me from resting and growing in Him. 

I had fought this addiction for more than half of my life. Hard to imagine, but it had began in Junior High and continued well into my teaching years. When I think back during those years I know that the only thing that kept me alive at some of the worst times had to be my Father. There's no other explanation.

One of my closest friends, who was beside me then and somehow, has still been with me, called me to meet  her to 'celebrate' this 10 year anniversary. When I got there, the first thing she did was quote Isaiah 61:1:  

  "The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

    because the Lord has anointed me

    to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

    to proclaim freedom for the captives

    and release from darkness for the prisoners,"

It's a verse I love and haven't thought about in a while, but then she explained why she chose that particular verse.

When my world fell apart, I was also put under church discipline. Part of my discipline was to attend the ladies Bible study at church.  This dear friend was leading the Bible study, which just so happened to be 'Breaking Free' by Beth Moore.  Isaiah 61:1 was the key verse to that Bible study. I don't remember much of the Bible study, mostly because I was in pieces and also angry that this had been forced on me. I do remember memorizing the verse, but with the attitude of little belief that what this verse was saying could really happen. There are times when we are so broken we can't see the truth in the Truth Himself.

When she reminded me of this Bible study and verse, I got tears in my eyes (NOT a crier here at all!).  I responded with simply...'wow...'

There's obviously been growth in the ten years and a changed attitude and different perspective, but wow. My Father proved that verse to be true to me much more than I could have ever imagined. It gives me chills and an amazing peacefulness to see the truth in that verse that I couldn't see ten years ago. The other thing it gives me is hope. Hope that His Word is truth. What He says in His Word WILL happen.  I may not see immediate results based on what my sinful human self wants to see, but in His time He proves over and over His promises to us.

This all came at His perfect timing as well.  The past few weeks have been some of the hardest I've dealt with in a long time. At one point reaching the ten year anniversary was even at risk. Satan did not want me to make that milestone and the attack was vicious. I'm thankful for those who prayed me through who didn't even know what was going on, and for this sweet friend again, who knew and prayed hard despite the busyness of her own life.

Freedom for the captives. Ten years of freedom for this captive in this area.  What an encouragement to let Him give me freedom in other areas of my life in which I'm still captive!

"To God be the glory, great things He hath done!"

September 10 on 10

This might as well just be titled 'Cute toddler who ran the day'...  It was just not a great day for pictures... too hectic and chaotic and... normal. ;)  oh well.  There is nothing exciting in these, so please feel free to move on to the next blog.

And I caption my pictures because... well, I like to.

The day started 2 hours earlier than usual because of this 

adorable, cute, ornery face.  And I knew exactly how

my day was going to go from then on.

A little Lego Star Wars Clone vs. Droid battle before

school always makes the day exciting.

School.  Yes, I homeschool. If that seems

weird to you, well, that's not my problem. 

Oh, look, that cute toddler again. Eating cards under 

my feet during school.

Yes, the camera decided to focus on the pacifier instead of

the cute baby's face. No, I did not retake. Getting a picture of

an infant without waking them is a brave act. So this is what you get.

Oh, Look, there she is again! Helping me fold clothes. Ha.

Isn't this the popular thing to do right now? Plus, I'm pretty

proud of my meatloaf. It rocks. And all my kids love it. And my 

daughter was excited that she recognized an 'M' on my meatloaf 

(because I sneak in cool learning things like that). Or I was just

in a hurry trying to fix my own plate after 4 little ones that I just squiggled

the ketchup on and got lucky.

I realized he was the only one I hadn't photographed all day. 

This one can get as messy as he wants because he knows all 

he has to do is whip out this smile on this handsome face and

mommy just melts and gives in... LOVE this kid!

The lunch people at my hubby's school LOVE him (who doesn't!)

and loves blessing him with all the leftover bananas from the week.

and then he brings them home to me expecting me to have plenty of time

to whip them into something yummy before they rot and we feel guilty.

My high ambitions didn't happen last night and they're still sitting there this morning.

I know what we're doing during school today! HOME EC!! :D

Why, yes, it's late and yes, that's my toddler. And yes,

she's still in the same pj's as she was this morning and afternoon.

3/5 of the kids were dressed today. That is success! 

Here she is helping me load the dishwasher.

And yes, that is a MOUND of dirty little people laundry on the floor.

It's sitting in the laundry hallway (no, not room, we aren't that lucky),

waiting for toddler to toss them around before they get in the 

wash before bedtime.  IF she ever goes to bed...

And that my friends is a small glimpse into a day of my life. Chaotic, tiring and always full of something exciting and something messy. My photography skills have gone the way of the stuffed animal in the toilet, but at least my humor has managed to stay afloat.

Extremely BLESSED with my littles and someday my pictures will be of a boring, clean house with no adorable little faces and I WILL miss it!

See REAL 10 on 10 blogs at this amazing blog with amazing pics and what the idea is really supposed to be about. :)

The Black Letter

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne is one of my favorite books of all times.  Albeit, I would prefer it be rewritten in more modern English, but then again it would take some of the fun out of it.

If you haven't read it, or ever heard any type of reference to having a 'scarlet letter', the gist is this: one of the ladies in the small town has an affair, a sin unheard of and condemned greatly during that time period.  Because of this, she is forced by the town to wear a scarlet letter everywhere she goes so that anyone and everyone who sees her knows that the shiny, red 'A' she bears labels her as an adulteress and sinner, and she should be treated as such (and yes, only she is treated this way. They don't know who she had an affair with).

The book captures my attention because of how she was treated because her sin was known. The man with whom she had the affair is treated the same, as normal as possible, because they don't know of his sin until far later in the book.  As well, what about their sins? The townspeople obviously weren't sinless, but because their sins were 'smaller' they were overlooked, ignored or accepted.

No one stepped up to help this woman. The shock and outrage that one could sin to such a magnitude was despicable and disgusting in the eyes of the righteous people. No one was kind to her, no one took time to talk with her, no one bothered to understand what had happened and why. They just assumed and accused.

And the man? Treated with respect, loved by all, respected by all, despite his unknown sin.  He wasn't branded and therefore not deemed to endure the wrath and hurt of the town.  Don't worry, he gets found out. I will let you simply guess the reaction of the townspeople, and as you read it, check your own reaction.

While writing my last post, the fleeting thought of 'what people will think' caused me to pause long enough to answer 'so what.'  There comes a time when we have to push aside the judgmental thoughts of others in order to do what is best for us. Admitting my struggle with depression is a way to help me heal. That is more important than what anyone thinks.

Then I had to go to the store to stock up before not having a vehicle or hubby for 3 days. This was after my post, after people had read it. I don't know who most of those were and that is fine. I love anonymity and respect it for others.  But because I didn't know, I went into public with this 'what if they read my blog' thought stuck in my head.  I felt as if I was walking in that store branded with a large, pitch black letter D for depression. Like everyone looking at me was thinking 'oh, that's the lady who is struggling with depression. Can you believe she's overlooking all the good and choosing to be sad?'.  Obviously, that isn't the truth, but I felt like that!

Then, because I didn't feel bad enough, I ran into someone I know. Someone who had the high possibility of having read my blog. I stood there, chatting and rambling over my words like I usually do with public conversations, and the whole time thinking and expecting something to be said about my depression.  Would she condemn me, as a fellow believer, for feeling this way? Would she shame me? Would she feel sorry for me and patronize me? Would she give me flippant phrases that are supposed to help but don't?

I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack right there in the entryway of the store.

It was obvious as the conversation went on that she had no idea. If she did, I need to go back and hug her because she didn't make me feel bad in any way at all!  However, it didn't ease my mind as I continued my shopping.

The next day I had to go into public again, and the same feelings plagued me.  I felt like the guys at the tire shop knew my struggle and had an opinion about me right from the start.  I mean, seriously? Besides the fact that they are total strangers, they are MEN.  Need I say more?

I spent the rest of the day in a sullen, almost embarrassed mood. I considered removing my post and ending any personal conversations I had had about my struggle. I wanted to tuck it away and pretend like I had never admitted it. I wanted to peel that ugly, black letter off of my shoulder, crumple it up and throw it away. Going back to the way everyone thought I had been all along seemed to be the best option.

Then I would be back to where I was: hiding, falling, hopeless.  The small glimmer inside me of wanting to get out of this and be healed and live my life fought through that dark letter and encouraged me to let it be. Leave my post up, continue the personal conversation, allow others to start getting in so they can encourage me and keep me pointed to the One alone Who can completely heal me.

Let people think what they will, judge how they want. They aren't sinless or perfect in any way. I need to learn to overlook those thoughts from others and do what is necessary to get myself where I should be.

I don't need to be ashamed of this letter. Someday, someone may see it who wears the same one, and find comfort in the fact that they aren't alone. If I make it through this, I could be the one to stand and defend another depressed heart instead of shaming and branding them. I could point them to the One who loves us no matter what.

therapy

I actually giggled when I typed the title of this post.

Not a 'haha' type of giggle, or a girly shy type of giggle, but instead a sarcastic giggle that not many would understand.

I chose the title because writing has always been therapeutic for me.  It always USED to be, yet I don't write much anymore.

The sarcasm comes into play because the way things have been going lately, real psychological therapy may be needed soon.  :P

I know it sounds like I'm saying that flippantly, but that's because humor is my best defense.

The world we live in, especially the Christian society, doesn't allow for much freedom to talk about psychological issues.  Christians hide things for fear of being less of a Christian or socially unaccepted because God isn't the center of your life (because if He was, then one wouldn't be having these issues).

Well, I'm tired of hiding.  I'm not going to survive much longer if I continue to hide.

So for some of you, this post is going to make you feel quite uneasy.  And feel free to judge as you wish.  Judgment by others means nothing to me anymore.  What's important is fixing me, not my rank on the Christian status board.

The past 13 months have been incredibly difficult for me.  I suffered from severe ppd (postpartum depression), diagnosed through a physician. I add the officially diagnosed part because anymore it seems to be the cool thing to have...  but it's not.

My whole life I've struggled with depression.  I inherited it physiologically, and also through difficult circumstances as a child.  I have had high moments and low moments. and then very low moments.

But since having baby #4, I've entered into a whole new territory of depression.  The anxiety and debilitating pain caused by a mental disease that can't be controlled can feel like torture at times.

Oh sure, there are medications to help.  I've been on antidepressants since having my second child.  It was my first round of ppd, but nothing like this time.  This time the medicine wasn't helping.  The dosage was increased and made me a little more functionable. Once hormones leveled out as well, I was finally able to start living again.

But there are times when things bottom out. The first time was about 5 months ago.  The doctor completely changed my medication and things settled enough.

Then last week I could just feel it coming.  I could see there was a hole up ahead and nothing I could do to avoid it.

When it came, I fell hard.

They say the worst part of being crazy is not knowing you're crazy.  I completely disagree. The worst part is being 90/10. Just enough sanity left to know how bad you really are.

When I came to that crossroads it was so easy to let go of that 10%.  so easy to just... give up.  But I had just enough stubbornness left to want to fight.  I knew I needed God to pull me out this time. I knew there was absolutely nothing left in me to save myself. I didn't even have enough in me to pray.

I'm thankful for those I can ask to pray for me when I can't pray for myself.  Prayer warriors who don't need to know what's going on in order to take me before the Father. I have no doubt where I'd be today without those prayers.

Today I'm... fragile.  A word I NEVER use to describe myself. I'm too tough and strong to ever be fragile. That's how I know how bad I am.

I haven't looked ahead of the moment to try and figure out what to do, what to change, how to prevent this. Right now I'm allowing myself to be fragile and numb and not allowing any guilt to come in for feeling this way.  I honestly don't know what tomorrow will bring. I don't even know what tonight will bring. I'm somewhat worried but I know I still have my few prayer warriors holding me up.

I just needed to write. I just needed some sort of safe outlet right now. I needed my own sort of therapy.