The Fog Lifted Today

Today was a good day. A happy day. The fog lifted today and I felt like myself for the first time in a long time.

And I think I'm ready to tell you all about it.

In my last post I mentioned that something happened last fall that rocked my world, and not in a good way.

Last October, the day after Homecoming for all my marching band friends, I began experiencing some... symptoms. Within a few days I realized I was pregnant. Unexpectedly, surprisingly, ridiculously, pregnant. I was 41 years old, with a history of infertility, on birth control, and pregnant.

But at our first doctor's visit they told us things weren't looking good, and there was only about a 50% chance of survival for my babies. I did, in fact, miscarry 10-week-old twins, but my body did not cooperate and on November 7, 2018 I had a D&C.

And I grieved. We were not planning on ever having more babies. If you would have asked me I would have said I didn't want any more children. But oh! My babies. How I wanted them after all! And so I grieved the loss of babies I never knew I ever wanted.

I have lived in a fog since then. I debated whether what I was experiencing was just part of the normal grieving process, after all I don't remember being like this after my other miscarriage. Maybe I was depressed? Maybe it was anxiety?

I don't know. Still don't. I know I haven't been myself since. Responsibilities fell to the wayside and I thought about quitting, well, just about everything.

Last year, because we had planned on doing much more traveling this past year, we signed the girls up for online homeschool and intentionally didn't sign up for any co-ops or community groups. The travel plan fell through, but I am so glad we'd done those things. So many days just getting them to sign in and listen to someone else teach felt like more work than I could do.

I'm still the VP of my Alumni Band, but I've scraped by this year, feeling like I'm doing the bare minimum for my office and I've debated resigning, for the good of the organization as well as myself, pretty regularly since last November.

I'm still the Team Manager for Jena's soccer team. I've missed deadlines, and squeaked in paperwork at the last minute more than once.

My house, always a struggle for me to keep tidy as I've mentioned many times before, reached probably the worst state it's ever been in.

Everything, everything, felt overwhelming. I don't know how to explain this in words, but absolutely everything was TOO MUCH. Leaving the house was a struggle. Every. Time. My kids asking to go the park was enough for me to feel it in my chest - the stress, the overwhelm. I have to do what? They want to go where? I can't do it! It's just too much!

Every little thing felt so big. Overwhelming was the only word I can think of to describe it. I didn't feel depressed. I can't even say I felt anxious. But overwhelmed. Everything was just TOO MUCH. The littlest thing - going to the park, or responding to an email, or sweeping the floor - anything and everything just absolutely overwhelmed me.

Then comes the reasoning. In my mind, I knew these were all small things. I knew I'd done all these things before. I hadn't taken on anything new, and in fact with the online homeschool and no community groups this year, I actually had less commitments than in the past. I felt like a failure. Sure, I was managing, but I wasn't managing well. I wasn't doing anything well. I was squeaking by in every area of my life.

Ugh. As I re-read what I just wrote I realize how inadequate it is to really explain what was going on inside me. I don't know how to explain it. I wish I could say it better.

But about a month or so ago, I started to feel a little better. And with it, I cautiously started doing more, worried I was making a mistake and wouldn't be able to cope.

I still felt completely overwhelmed and stressed out at the littlest thing, but I slowly started to purge things from our house. In the past few weeks I've given away, donated, or sold probably 20 or more boxes and bags of items. And probably thrown away at least as much. I've made a concentrated effort to work on tidying up and cleaning the house, and while we are far from where I'd like it to be (I'm still not inviting anyone over), it's the cleanest it's been in months. And I have to give a shout-out to my girls, especially Jena, who has joined in my efforts and helped me clean as well. Last month I went to a Symposium for college alumni bands, and this week kicked off registration for fall soccer.

But today... today... unexpectedly, unexplainedly, without notice... the fog lifted.

I feel like myself again. It was a good day. It was a happy day. Not because anything in particular happened, but from the moment I woke up I could feel the difference in myself.

Now like anyone who's struggled with depression, or anxiety, or whatever-this-was, I am well aware that the fog could show up again tomorrow, or next week, or maybe it'll hold off for a year, or maybe just maybe it'll stay gone forever.

But I've enjoyed today. I'm looking forward to many more days. I'm looking forward to getting caught up on a to-do list that desperately needs my attention, and yes, even cleaning my house. I took my girls out to a restaurant and two stores today, and you know what? None of it felt overwhelming. Or stressful. It felt good, and happy, and I enjoyed it.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. Mostly I just wanted to tell someone. So... as always, thanks for checking in!

Slowing Down

Recently I realized that I had had a headache for pretty much four days straight that even Tylenol wasn't really helping. I was also hot all the time. One morning it dawned on me to have Jason (as a registered EMT) check my blood pressure.

It wasn't good.

I had a regularly scheduled checkup with my endocrinologist a few days later, so I embarked on a few days of minor lifestyle changes in an effort to lower my blood pressure. One thing I've identified as a cause of stress in my life is that I feel very out of control, so I took some steps to take back some control.

Honestly, in an ironic twist, since becoming a SAHM I feel like I'm doing what everyone else tells me to do, or wants me to do way more than when I worked outside the home. I feel as though I have very little control over my daily motions. So that clearly needs to change.

One thing is that I decided to take a break from FlyLady. Even though it was a program that I chose to start, the truth is that every day I'm doing what she tells me. And at this point even that seems like too much.

I need to do what I want to do.

I also reduced my social media presence, and am actually surprised at how much that has helped, considering I do feel that I get most of my support community from social media. But it's also a constant barrage of contact to an introvert that needs quiet. Heck, I think the truth is we all need quiet at times.

And I made an effort to get at least six hours of sleep a night, which is a struggle for me. I struggle with insomnia, and tend to find after the kids go to bed as my most productive hours, so often find myself up till all hours of the night (morning). 

So I spent a few days relaxing more, letting my house get back to the crappy house it was before, not going online as much, etc.

The result? At my appointment my BP was still high, but not high enough that my doctor was concerned. What he was concerned about was that my resting pulse rate was extremely high. Even though this would be an uncommon side effect to my meds, it is possible, so we are making some modifications to the dosages for a month to see if there's any change, and I'm continuing some of my temporary lifestyle changes. I do plan on starting FlyLady back up soon, but we'll have to see  how things progress.

The truth is I've been struggling with quite a bit of anxiety and depression over the past few months and I think it finally caught up with me. There has been quite a bit going on behind the scenes, both big & small, that has just been difficult to deal with all at once.

While my numbers may not show it (yet?), I feel better about myself since making these changes. I'm going to continue looking at my life and how I can regain control in certain areas. I think that sense of not having control, whether real or perceived, was a major trigger for me, for the anxiety, the depression, and the stress.

Also - my project is still in the works, but delayed a bit by this. Keep watching for more updates!

So that's my update today. I hope you all are doing well.

As always, thanks for checking in!

Depression Lies

I just want to say something about the tragedy of Robin Williams passing. And the passing of so many others.

Yes, depression is a mental illness. Yes, there is a chemical, physical, physiological reason that some succumb to the illness more than others. Yes, I have suffered from depression myself, and yes once upon a time I seriously considered ending it.

I was tired of hurting. Tired of the pain. Not so much the physical, but the emotional, the heartbreak that was so bad I could feel it, the pain in my chest that just wouldn't stop hurting.

And I thought of the bottles of narcotics I had in my possession to treat my physical pain, and I thought about taking them. All of them.

Then I called my friend, and I told him. And he saved me that night, just by talking to me.

And I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't picked up the phone.

Like any illness, there is the ability to fight it. To try your hardest to claw your way out of the deep, dark pit. Like any serious illness there will be times when it feels as if we cannot overcome it. Like any hardship, there will be times when it seems as though things will not get better.

But depression lies. Satan lies. And yes, I think Satan uses depression as a tool to stamp out the light in those suffering.

Despite knowing how difficult fighting depression might be, I am wary of saying things like "Robin Williams didn't kill himself, the disease did." I am wary of saying things like "he was helpless". I am wary of saying things like "Genie, you're free."

Each of these statements, well-intentioned though they may be, take away our power and romanticize the illness. We have the power to fight.

You have the power to fight.

Yes you, who is reading this, who might be suffering from depression yourself, who might be tired of fighting, who might be thinking of ways to stop the fight...

You can do this.

You can fight it.

If you choose to end your fight, you are killing yourself. You are letting the disease win. You are giving your illness your power, you are choosing to stop fighting.

I know it's hard. I know at times it seems impossible.

I know. I've been there.

But you can do this.

You can fight it. You can call a friend. You can tell your parents. You can seek help.

You can email me.

You can call a hotline (1-800-273-8255).

You can pray.

You can choose not to believe the lies. You can stop believing the lies.

You can do this.

Don't listen to them. Don't listen to the things people are writing and posting saying that sometimes victims of depression have no choice, can't help themselves. Don't give your illness that much power.

Depression took that from you? Take it back. It's yours. It is your power, not its power. You are amazing and strong, and look how hard you've fought so far! You've already done so much. You do not have to give up now.

People are romanticizing depression and death, saying that now he's free.

There is no freedom in suicide.

There is pain, and heartache, and questions, and guilt that will torment God-knows-how-many people.

There is no healing in suicide. There is only spreading the pain.

Yes, depression is an illness. Yes, we need to reduce and remove the stigma attached to it, and to all mental illness. Yes, there are treatments available. Yes, you can fight it.

If you are in that place right now, please listen to me. I believe in you. You can do this. It won't be easy. It won't be quick. But you are strong enough, you are enough.

You are worth saving. You have light to show the world. You have amazing, beautiful light that some of us have yet to see. Let us see it.

Depression lies. Satan lies.

"You'll get thru this. It won't be easy. It won't be quick. But God will will use this mess for good. Don't be foolish or naive. But don't despair either, you'll get thru this."  -- Max Lucado

I Drove Myself Crazy

Yesterday was busy. So I stayed up until midnight tidying up the house. Still not as clean as I'd like, but passable, by our family's standards.

Then Jillian woke me up for a feeding at 3:30am. She had trouble going back down, the I had trouble falling back to sleep, so I was up with her from 3:30am to 5am.

She woke me back up at 7am for her next feeding. So tired. After her feeding I figured I had a better chance of getting more sleep if I slept with her on the couch, so I tried. Half an hour later Jena came in and woke me up.

Score. A total of 6 hours of (interrupted) sleep.

Six hours of sleep actually isn't bad for me. Or for millions of other Americans. Especially moms. It's the interruptions that get us. My longest stretch was 3 1/2 hours. Ugh.

And then I thought about it.

No wonder my mental health was so screwed up after I had Jena. I mean, I know a lot of it was physiological, but no wonder it got so bad and took so long to get better. Because at this stage in the game with her, I had already been back to work for a month.

I also was trying much harder to keep a clean house, cook dinners, etc.

So the scenario back then would have played out something like this:

Stay up until at least midnight (possibly as late as 2am) doing housework.
Up at 3:30am for feeding.
When not asleep by 5am, realize I might as well stay up for work.
Throw in a load of laundry. Do another random household chore.
Get ready for work.
Work for eight-ish hours.
Cook dinner.
In between taking care of Jena, do housework until at least midnight.

Several times a week, literally pass out on the couch, and wake up 2 -3  hours later, usually because Jena is crying or Jason is waking me up. Commence housework or child care.

Here's the deal. Even on that schedule, while my house was cleaner than it is now, it was still a constant mess. While I cooked more than I do now, we still ate out way too often. No matter how hard I tried, how much I did, it was never enough.

And my mental health caved.

My long-time readers might remember this one night in 2011. Nearly three years after Jena was born. It took me nearly three years to realize that my mental health was worth more than a clean house that will never be clean enough, worth more than a smaller pile of laundry that will never be all the way gone.

I know there are women out there who disagree with me, but I think it's ridiculous that our society expects women to be working moms, to return to work when the baby is just six weeks old, most often not even sleeping thru the night yet. Before I had kids I thought nothing of it.

Now, I think it's ludicrous. If that's what you need to do for the financial stability of your family, then so be it. Fine. Good for you for taking care of your family. But the fact that the is has became a societal expectation is ridiculous. Crazy.

And we're driving ourselves crazy - sometimes literally - trying to meet that expectation.

As sure as I know my name

As much as there is a huge part of me that feels like our family is not yet complete, like there is another tiny soul out there, waiting for us...

there is another part of me that is terrified to go thru my post partum illnesses again, scared that our marital issues will dredge up again with the stress of a newborn, worried that because I struggled so much with one, I'll never be able to handle two.

In my head, I know that there is no reason to think my post partum illnesses will recur, or if they do that they will be as bad or last as long. Especially since now we know in advance what we're up against. But it still scares me.

And I know there is no reason to think our relationship issues will repeat. But then a tiny voice says "but there's no reason not to think that either"

And I know that I have more experience now, a better handle on not just motherhood, but life, and that God won't give me more than I can handle. But I still worry.

But deep down, in my soul, I can feel that our family is not complete. I can't explain it. I don't know how to properly put it into words. I don't know the how's or when's, or even the why's... but I know we are meant to be a family of four. I know it as sure as I know my name.

I really should probably make that appointment with my therapist.

All this talk about having another baby someday, even though it's a "hopefully", and it's in the future, and we're not even TTC yet... well, I've been having flashbacks to my L&D experience w/ Jena.

This morning's was especially bad. I could feel the pain.

Oh, and now remembering the remembering I can feel it again... oh my God!

I ended up bawling my eyes out in the bathroom over the pain.

It wasn't the pain of the contractions, or of pushing, or of her actual delivery... it was after she was born.

When the nurses were pushing on my abdomen trying to get my uterus to contract and Lord it hurt so bad and I was crying and crying and crying and the poor nurse kept apologizing and telling me she had to do it to control the bleeding and I was like "I know you do" but it hurt sooooooooooooo bad

And the last thing I remember is looking at my mom's face as she came in to be at my bedside and then they gave me something to render me unconscious because they couldn't control the pain.

I've always said that if I ever get pregnant again I should probably see a therapist to help me prepare for L&D, but with the way these flashbacks are coming, I'm wondering if I should go ahead & start.

Guest Post: The Relationship Between Substance Abuse and Mental Health

As my regular readers know, both substance abuse and mental health are issues near & dear to my heart, so I was understandably excited to get this guest post from Reginald Guerrerro.

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The Relationship Between Substance Abuse and Mental HealthBoth substance abuse and mental health issues are serious problems that people face daily. Neither of them is a joke, and individuals can be seriously hurt by the consequences of these conditions. When we talk about substance abuse, what exactly is its connection to mental health? Read on to find out!

Deterioration
Substance abuse can often lead to a lot of problems with a person's mental health. The addiction to a substance, whether it be alcohol or a drug, does not only have to be physical, it can also be mental. In a person's mind, he or she might truly believe that the substance is a driving force that gets him or her through the day. As a result of these beliefs, one's mental health can really take a downward spiral.

Perception
Substance abuse can also change the way that a person perceives him or herself, as well the surrounding environment. As a result, one's mental health may be changed. It's common to distrust family and friends, or think that everyone is trying to harm you. Body image problems are common too, and its common to eventually feel like there's no use participating in beloved activities or anything common to general society as a whole.

Therapy as Treatment
Therapy is a way of strengthening one's mental health, and substance abuse is no exception to this rule. Yes, medications or rehab might be used to help wean a person off of drugs or alcohol, but an underlying problem might cause one to participate in these dangerous activities in the first place. Simply speaking with someone before a problem manifests can often ensure  that it's nipped in the bud.

Simultaneous Treatment Programs
Now, just because a person has a mental health issue does not mean that he or she abuses drugs or alcohol. Likewise, an individual who abuses one or more of these substances does not necessarily have a mental health issue. However, sometimes these struggles do go hand in hand. As a result, many treatment programs seek to address both of them. Through a variety of methods, trained professionals are able to lead those who suffer away from this darkness and into a better place, by addressing both of these issues at the same time. Therefore, the two often have a close connection.

The relationship between substance abuse and mental health is very complicated. Furthermore, a substance abuse program is not always indicative of a mental health issue - other factors could be the cause. Despite these facts, a connection is often found to exist, and it's important to recognize and understand the issues. With knowledge under your belt, you can truly live life to the fullest and move on from your problems.

Reginald Guerrerro writes about health and education. A substance abuse center administrator, he loves to write about the best online MHA programs.

Inside the Mind of Depression

This article articulates so well what I have been unable to. The following paragraph particularly speaks to me, and my past experience with depression.

"Everything is irritating. Work is boring and unbearable. Any activity takes many times more effort, as if every movement requires displacing quicksand to make it. What was challenging feels overwhelming; what was sad feels unbearable; what felt joyful feels pleasureless—or, at best, a fleeting drop of pleasure in an ocean of pain."

Read full article here.

Everything was irritating - yep

Work was boring & unbearable - I myself struggled to understand why a job I once loved suddenly became so dreadful. In tears, can barely force myself to go dreadful

Any activity took many times more effort - oh my goodness, yes

What was previously challenging felt overwhelming - can I get a witness?

What was previously sad felt unbearable - check

What previously felt joyful felt pleasureless - numb was more like it

It is only with the hindsight of healing that I can look back on the 2+ years I spent under the cloud of depression that I can see how the depression itself colored my world.

A bit of anxiety

A few recent events, combined with the knowledge that I might actually someday have another child, has had me flashing back to my Labor & Delivery experience.

Not the least of which is some physical symptoms that have decided to rear their ugly head, that are a direct result of the trauma my body went thru those two days.

And all of which have led to me having a bit of anxiety.

I've decided that even though my next visit to my Ob will be a routine check, and not a pre-conception evaluation or anything, as that is still a ways away, I will be asking him a few questions about his medical opinion re: me having another child, another vaginal delivery, an elective C-section, etc.

I know more than anyone that you can't plan what will happen, but I need to gather information specific to my situation, and I want his medical opinion, as a professional I trust & respect.

I know the decision is ultimately up to me, but I need to know.

I'm also considering that if we do ever get pregnant, that I may start seeing my therapist again. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm a little worried that I might completely freak out as L&D draws near.

Overwhelmed

I have been feeling quite overwhelmed lately.

Not just busy, but... sinking beneath everything kind of overwhelmed.

Work is insane right now. Instead of my normal 40 different hats to wear, now I have around 60. Every day is a struggle to juggle it all, and I'm barely scraping by. At this moment I'm still managing to accomplish the needed, must-do tasks, but barely. And I can't shake the feeling that I'm always forgetting something.

With the holidays coming up, our lives have been jam-packed with event after event, plus there's shopping & wrapping & cooking & card sending & decorating to get done as well.

Our home looks like a disaster area. Only a slight exaggeration. I'm staying up late & getting up early. Averaging maybe 5 1/2 hours a sleep a night. And still barely managing to keep on top of the necessities (laundry, dishes, groceries).

I know my lack of sleep is probably contributing to this feeling of being beaten, but at the same time I don't see how getting more sleep and getting even less accomplished is going to help anything.

Besides all the things to do, all the stuff, I have a lot of praying to do. Join me?

My dad had surgery on his back.
Surgery & recovery are going well.
However, they still cannot watch Jena. Which means that for the past few Friday's we've had to make alternate arrangements.

My brother had surgery on his adenoids, throat, etc. (severe sleep apnea).
Recovery is not going well. Not sure of all the details, but he still cannot swallow. Everything he tries to take in, comes out his nose. Apparently this is normal for a day or two past surgery. We're on Day 5. He has also ended up in the ER once because he tried to swallow his liquid pain medication, choked, ended up coughing & gagging, and... he coughed up two of his stiches.

My uncle has been diagnosed with lymphoma.He started chemo yesterday. Eight hours.
They've also done some biopsies because they think it may have metastisized to his pancreas & bones.

My great uncle has been diagnosed with cancer.He has decided to forego traditional Western treatment and is using some alternative treatments to ease his discomfort.

A very dear friend, like family really, has been diagnosed with colon cancer.It has spread to his liver. So far treatments have not changed his condition or prognosis. But he is persisting. For now.

Jason's grandmother is very ill.She has been in & out of the hospital for the past few months. I don't know all the details, but I do know her last hospitilization was for a severe kidney infection. She was on IV antibiotics for four days, and was released to a rehab facility. As of right now, doctors will not release her to her home.
This may force her into a nursing home. Which, quite frankly, is what she needs. Her health has deteriorated and she really needs 24/7 medical care. Two of her daughters (including MIL) have been trying to take care of her, going to her home daily, administering medication, fixing meals, and taking blood pressure & blood sugar readings. But they still get phone calls during the day, during the night, whenever her illness strikes again, and they're back at the hospital. I really believe it is in her best interest to be in a home, but she is very adament that she does not want to go, and her daughters I think feel guilty about it, so aren't pushing the issue.

Each & every one of those weighs heavy on my mind & heart daily.

This is also our first holiday season without my father-in-law. I'm sure there will be some tears, but we'll get thru it okay. My mother-in-law? Not so optimistic.

So we are walking on eggshells (did we every stop?), answering her calls for help, trying to just be there for her. I'm not gonna lie, we could do better in this area. But I also couldn't tell you where we'd find the time either.

And while part of me says this is all just life, get over it, it happens, I also find myself feeling so very overpowered by it all. Sinking. Stressed out. Scattered. Unfocused.

And unable to pull myself out of the pile.

I also find myself wondering why.

I don't recall ever feeling so overwhelmed in the past. Even when life crashed down around me, this sense of losing control was never there.

I know that statistically, women who have PPD or other Post-Partum mental disorders are more likely to develop other mental illnesses in their lives.

I find myself wondering if this is me. If the reason I feel so steamrolled by life has less to do with how much is going on in right now, and more to do with my mind's ability to handle it all. Anymore.

Is this just life for me now? Will I become more easily overwhelmed by life as time goes on? Am I destined to become scattered & unfocused & overcome at the first sign of difficulty? Is that who I have become?

Maybe more importantly, is that who I have to be? Is there a way out? I certainly haven't found it yet. Is there even one to be found?

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I feel like this post is a bit... detached. Several topics not quite meshing together the way I'd like. But I've been holding on to it for several days, and keep re-reading it, and am not finding the way to make it all flow a bit better, so... here ya go. As always, thanks for checking in!

There are no winners here

source

There are no words.

At the same time, there is something to say.

What do you say when there are no words?

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When I heard the news, I cried. Then I wanted to get my Jena, before realizing my parents were watching her yesterday. Safe, visiting a Christmas display in Cincinnati, they may not even know the  news. I refrained from calling. No need to destroy their afternoon.

My mind wandered to the children. A freakin' KINDERGARTEN classroom, for pete's sake. Four- and five- year olds. WHY?!?

And then I realize, there is no reason. There cannot be any reason. I've heard people mention insanity. Mental Illness. Demon possession. And I understand why. Because there cannot be any reason for anyone to do this. Ever.

I pictured Jena's preschool. Thank goodness her classroom is towards the end of the hallway. Thank goodness for security measures taken at the school. And then I feel guilty for being glad her class isn't at the front of the school. Because what about those kids? And I also realize that Sandy Hook Elementary had security measures in place as well. Similar to many schools. And I realize that if someone wants to commit that kind of carnage, there is little that a security system will do to stop them.

I thought about the teachers at Sandy Hook. Those brave teachers and administrators, doing what they could to protect the children. We don't give our teachers enough credit for the work they do, but rarely do we also realize what they would do, should tragedy strike. Thank your child's teacher next time you see them.

And then I dared to think about the parents. The panicked parents. I cannot truly grasp the kind of terror that must have gripped each and every parent as they rushed to their babies. A terror that is either relieved when your child is in your arms, and immediately replaced with survivors' guilt, or is replaced by a grief no person should ever experience. There are no winners here.

And the children. The poor, terrified children. To think that the last few moments of your child's life were filled with such horror... and then the surviving students. What an impact this will have on their lives. Their view of school, of humanity in general, forever changed by this day.

Now to the first responders: police, SWAT, fire, EMTs/medics, probably more. I imagine my own Jason responding to the scene. I have to think it would change him, maybe forever. There will be some that will not return to this career. They all will forever carry those heinous images in their minds. Thank a first responder at your next opportunity. They do what the rest of us could or would not. They go in when the rest of us are trying desperately to get out.

Lastly, my mind turns to the shooter. I cannot rejoice at a life lost, any life lost. But I can be grateful that he cannot do it again. His family must be devastated. To deal with the grief of losing mother & son in one day is difficult enough, but to deal with it in this fashion, facing interrogations, media speculations, public scrutiny, all while trying to make sense of it yourself... I cannot imagine how difficult this is for them.

Last night Jena got a little bit spoiled. She doesn't know it, doesn't know why. In exchange for doing one tiny little chore she should have done anyway, I let her stay up "as late as Mommy". I let her play on the computer for hours. And then I let her sleep in my bed. Three things I never let her do. As much for me as it was for her.

Tonight we will take her to see the Elves at a local Christmas display. We will have dinner with family, then enjoy a little holiday spirit. I will do my best to pretend nothing bad happened. Not because I have become "desensitized to violence", as one of my friends suggested of anyone who moves on quickly from such a day, but I will do it for my child. At four years old my daughter has no need to know what happened today. And so I will go thru the next few days as if nothing happened, as if nothing is wrong, as if my mind weren't wandering to that horrific incident time and time again. I will hold back the tears as best I can. I will be forever grateful for my daughter.

And should she overhear anything, from anyone, about what happened, I pray that God would give me the words.

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Dear God,

Lord, we come to You today and ask that You be with the people of Newtown. We ask that You comfort all those directly and indirectly involved with the shooting. We don't understand why these things happen, nor how anyone could ever be comforted in such tragedy, but we do trust in You to do the impossible. Hold them close in their time of need.
Lord I also ask that You guide all of our minds, especially those in law enforcement and education, to find in this a way to protect our children in the future. Let this be used as a learning experience, let some tiny bit of good come from this.
Father, there are not enough words, not the right words, to express what we are all feeling, even thinking. But You know our minds and our hearts. Hear our unspoken.

Amen

Baby Blues, I Told Myself

I remember it like it was yesterday today. I can see you. Each of you.

I know that doesn't make sense, because you came on different days, but it's true.

You came to our home, to help us welcome Jena into our family, to bring us dinner, and to see how we were doing.

I have no idea how I seemed to you at the time.

Maybe I seemed fine. Maybe I seemed off.

I felt off. I felt like a stranger in my own house, lost in my own skin.

I remember not knowing what to do, what to say, feeling awkward.

So many details came flooding back today. Details, details, details.

Mary* was the first to visit. You were wearing a black shirt & jeans. Your dark hair pulled back neatly. You brought tomato soup from Panera. Picked up on your way home from work. Yours & your husband's favorite. And "not too spicy" you said. You peeked in on Jena, who was sleeping in her pack-n-play in the living room. You had Victoria with you, in her carrier, born just a few months earlier. Adorable as ever.

Next was Betsy. You were wearing a striped sweater & jeans, Ugg-style boots, adorable hat to match. You brought your girls with you, dressed to match you. You brought us ready-to-cook enchilada's in a clear baking pan. Peeked quickly in on Jena, and left. I sensed that you were trying hard not to intrude.

Isabel was next, with her boyfriend. You guys brought a KFC family dinner, and ate with us. You were wearing a black button down shirt, untucked, and jeans.

You probably sensed that something was off. Our conversation was good, but there was a moment when I drifted off, staring into space. What you may not have realized is I was trying to focus myself, trying to keep from crying. I don't know why.
I finally excused myself to go to the bathroom. Which I did. And cried on the toilet. And couldn't pull myself together. I heard you get up to leave, so I took a deep breath, blew my nose, composed myself just long enough to come out & wave good-bye from the front porch.
Then I went back inside and felt like crap for the rest of the night. For no real reason at all.

And then there was Lori. She stopped by with her kids on her way back home from the zoo. They'd had a good day, but said it was really super crowded. She & I chatted while the kids & her husband seemed bored. They didn't stay long. After all, I probably seemed bored too. Kept zoning out.

Baby blues, I told myself.

At that point, I hadn't yet been told to go to my doctor. I hadn't yet been told I had Post Partum Depression. I hadn't yet realized how very sick I was.

At that point, I felt a little bit of nothing about you coming to visit.

Somewhere along the way, I realized how much I appreciated those visits. I really did do. I still do. Four years later.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that each of you were moms yourself. So maybe you get it.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that those short little visits are an expression of love, a showing of care & concern for another human being.

Somewhere along the way, I had completely forgotten about them.

Today, they came back to me in a flash, in an instant, vivid, detailed, as if each of them had just happened moments earlier. There was no specific trigger, nothing happened, nothing was said to cause me to think of them. They just appeared instantaneously.

Jena's birthday is approaching.

PTSD is rearing it's ugly head.

This flashback, while it seems lovely, reminds me of how dead I was inside, how just awful I felt.

I cried a little today.

I'm sure it won't be the last flashback I have in the next few weeks.

Welcome back, PTSD. Let's try to keep the traumatic flashbacks to a minimum this year, 'kay? I'd really love to go thru just one of my daughter's birthdays without having a complete meltdown. Can we make it her 4th? Please?

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* as always, names changed to protect privacy

I don't wanna be crazy (anxiety related)

I haven't had any serious anxiety in well over a year. Prior to that, my anxiety seemed primarily to be a symptom of my post-partum illness(es).

Until earlier this week.

Sunday night I laid in bed for(what seemed like)ever. Every creak, every noise I was certain someone was trying to break in to kidnap Jena.

I laid there, half of my brain certain my child was in immediate danger, the other half trying to convince myself that I was being completely irrational.

I debated going in and scooping up my sleeping really heavy now that she's a preschooler baby and bringing her in to sleep with me.

Like I may have done on occasion in years past when I was convinced someone was trying to kidnap my child in the middle of the night.

Neither side of my brain ever won that argument. Exhaustion won. I finally passed out in bed, still arguing over myself whether or not my child was in imminent danger, or I was being irrational.

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The next night, the same anxiety. Different issue though.

At the last minute (9pm) my sister-in-law called to ask if Jena could come over for an impromptu sleepover, and then go swimming the next day.

Who am I to say 'no' to an aunt who wants to indulge her niece in some summertime fun?

We said good-bye to a way-too-excited little girl around 10pm, and headed to bed shortly thereafter.

I laid awake in bed (again). I couldn't shake my worry that Jena was in danger.

I didn't even realize I'd asked the question aloud until Jason answered.

"Do you think she's okay?"

"She'll be fine"

This time I couldn't envision a scenario, but at the same time I couldn't shake the thought that my daughter was not safe.

My mind began its battle again.

Exhaustion was again the victor.

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I hope no one out there with clinical anxiety takes offense to this, but:

I don't wanna be crazy.

I've seen and dealt with family members who struggle with it. I know what it's like from my extended bout of post partum illness.

I don't want to deal with this for the rest of my life. I don't want to have to be medicated to feel normal. Or to sleep at night.Or just to get the scary thoughts out of my head.

Even though prior to my post partum illness I had never struggled with any form of mental illness myself, I have family members that have.

Which I know (now) increased my risk for developing PPD.

And increases the chances that my PPD will trigger a life long struggle with mental illness.

All I know, is that right now I want to understand what's going on. Why did these episodes occur now, seemingly out of the blue? What does it mean?

Blessings

Physical Blessings:

1) No serious medical issues yet this year
2) My back is stable (not worsening)
3) Jason is healthy & strong as ever
4) Jena is healthy & growing well
5) All the pets are relatively healthy


Financial Blessings:

1) We can feed & clothe our family, and pay our mortgage
2) We have good benefits, including affordable health coverage
3)  Our car is almost paid off
4) We are on target to be debt free (excepting the house) within 2 years max
5) We can afford a few extras


Mental Blessings

1) My issues with depression & anxiety appear to be (mostly) over
2) So far I see no signs that my PPD will lead into Clinical Depression
3) My job is providing me with enough challenges to stretch me, but not enough to stress me
4) Jena has tested above her age group in all developmental milestones
5) I haven't had writer's block in months


Spiritual Blessings

1) Mine & my husband's salvation
2) So many answered prayers & visible miracles
3) Continued growth in the Lord
4) Finding my "fit" in our church home
5) Spiritual battles won


Answered Prayer

1) TheBoy's miraculous recovery
2) Continued growth & healing in our marriage
3) Promises fulfilled
4) Safety for Jason on the job
5) Unspoken


Today's Blessings

1) We all woke up this morning (and healthy too!)
2) We both have jobs to go to
3) My parents watching Jena
4) We can talk during the day
5) Phone call from a friend

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this post inspired by this post