You Say You Want A Resolution 2015

Wow, 2015 begins next week. That year seems very futuristic to me...like the setting for a sci-fi novel. More than that, I can hardly believe how quickly time has passed. Do you realize that the whole End of the World in 2012 thing was TWO WHOLE years ago? That's crazy. It seems like we JUST did that. I honestly believe that time has started moving faster...a year just isn't what it used to be.

So here we are at the end of 2014 and looking ahead to 2015. That means it's resolution time! Most Americans are all about New Year's Resolutions...until the 2nd week of January! In order to combat that short lived enthusiasm, I decided last year to choose some kind of large, overarching goals and make small choices in order to begin meeting those goals.  I think it's healthy to set goals and I also think it's healthy to allow our goals to be flexible. As I use my blog to gaze into the New Year, I will begin this post by reviewing how I did with my 2014 Resolutions.

First I resolved to do what I want to do instead of caving to unhelpful societal, cultural, and familial norms. I'd say I did OK with that, though it's kind of a hard goal to measure. I did find myself saying "no" more often and I think that's a good thing. Instead of finding things to fill my calendar, I spent more time at home and in my yoga pants. Overall, that made for a pretty chill year, which I desperately needed.

Secondly, I resolved to let my children sort out their own differences without intervening every time. Meh, that one was trickier. Little Brother is a giant crybaby/tattle tale/tantrum thrower. He's generally difficult to ignore when he is in conflict. We are trying to teach him about emotional regulation, but we still have a lot of work to do. Additionally, Big Brother thinks it's HILARIOUS to get his brother all worked up...so, there's that.

Lastly, I resolved to take myself less seriously. Again, this goal is kind of challenging to measure, but I'd say there has been some progress here. Actually, I like this concept so much I am going to add it to my 2015 Resolutions. Learning to be more forgiving of myself and more accepting of my humanity is likely going to take my entire lifetime...I'm choosing to be OK with that.

So, last year there was some improvement in my life. Not a crazy life changing moment, rather a small series of choices that made my life more enjoyable.

And now ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my 2015 New Year's Resolutions!

1. I again resolve to take myself less seriously. Primarily, I am going to look for more opportunities to laugh and play. Laughter and play are medically proven to relieve stress. Frankly, I am just weary of being so damn serious all the time. I've been on the serious side since I was a kid...I'm over it. Yes, it's important to be responsible and know when to take care of business. I know that I am capable of doing that and now I desire to ENJOY my life as well.

2. I resolve to regularly add yoga into my daily routine. Yes, this is an exercise resolution. Most medical and natural health experts are in agreement that practicing yoga is good for people who have my particular mix of depression and anxiety (plus I have jacked up hips from birthing enormous babies and yoga is a good way to help with that). I feel SOOOO good when I am practicing yoga...I just have to make a concerted effort to add it into my life on a regular basis. Last summer I set up a little studio in my attic and practiced a mere handful of times.

I found some articles about sticking to a new exercise routine and found one that suggested that exercise can more easily become a habit if you commit to doing no MORE than 30 minutes per day. As an "all or nothing" person, this mindset works for me. Rather than going all in and trying to be the best yogi I can be, I can just do a small amount every day.

So, that's it. There is not a #3...I was going to make three because that seems like a good number...then I decided...I don't wanna.

Happy New Year everyone!!!

Tis the Season to be Anxious: 2014 Update

Almost exactly a year ago, I posted this blog (Tis The Season To Be Anxious) about my anxiety. Basically it outlines the cyclical nature of my mental health. In the Fall, my brain flips a switch and I go from depressive tendencies to obsessive anxiety. What makes me a little sad is that, really, I could write that blog post again verbatim and it would still be true. In 2014, I am still hard core struggling to stay calm and rational. The plan that I enacted last year is still probably the best plan for me to follow as the holidays approach (limit caffeine and sugar, limiting commitments, taking a more laid back approach to gifts, and consciously avoiding rumination).

In April 2013, I wrote a post called Getting On The Same Page: Depression, in which I broke down the definition of depression. That post was written to dispel the myth that depression is just feeling sad. Today, I am going to do that with anxiety. A lot of people claim to have issues with anxiety, but I think some clarification is in order. Just as depression isn't just feeling down, anxiety isn't just feeling worried. Rather, anxiety is a whole situation of symptoms that can be crippling.

Webster defines anxiety thusly:

1 a : painful or apprehensive uneasiness of mind usually over an impending or anticipated ill

b :  fearful concern or interest

c :  a cause of anxiety

    2

:  an abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear often marked by physiological signs (as sweating, tension, and increased pulse), by doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat, and by self-doubt about one's capacity to cope with it

Here is how that definition plays out in my life:

painful or apprehensive uneasiness of mind- In my case, I would describe this as constantly being in "fight or flight". My mind is running through a myriad of potential crises and trying to figure out all of the possible outcomes. But, my mind rarely settles on positive outcomes. With my brain running worst case scenarios for dozens of different situations, I am not participating in the here and now. I get agitated and irritable because I am too busy worrying about the future, that I can't be bothered with the real situations that I am facing each day. 

fearful concern or interest- This piece often plays out as fear of losing my children. Since that is the worst thing I could possibly think of, my brain goes into hypervigilance mode. If my kids are away from me, I worry that they are not safe...this is especially true if they are doing something out of routine. So, in the winter, I don't even enjoy my kid-free time. I spend the entire time riddled with anxiety. 

I also have fearful concern whenever I have social interactions, I worry that I have said or done something stupid. I replay my words and their words over and over again picking the conversation apart until I find the offending phrases. Sometimes I just avoid being around people because I can't handle the stress of the aftermath.

Another arena of life where this pops up is finances. For me, spending during the holidays feel out of control. It isn't usually. I am generally wise with our money...but that feeling that I am buying things I don't need kicks me into a bout of anxiety. What if...What if...What if. 

an abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear- ABNORMAL. OVERWHELMING. It's normal to be concerned about the safety of my children. It is abnormal to preemptively obsess and emotionally punish myself on the off chance that something bad happens to them. It is normal for me to desire to make a good impression with people. It is abnormal for me to dig and dig until I find a reason to be ashamed of myself. It is normal for me to desire to stay within my budget. It is abnormal to be completely overwhelmed with guilt that my moderate overspending will lead to financial hardship so severe that we will lose our house. 

physiological signs- Here is where anxiety, quite literally, kicks my ass. My symptoms include heart palpitations when I lay down, digestive issues, shortness of breath, holding my breath, hyperventilating, extreme muscle tension and tightness in my neck, shoulders, and chest, and a weird heavy, pinching pain behind my right knee.  I have trouble swallowing and get strange pains in my lymph nodes. Even when I sleep I bite the edges of my tongue so that the perimeter of my tongue is permanently pressed into the shape of my teeth. Regular, run of the mill worry does NOT look like this. If I hadn't been experiencing these symptoms for nearly a decade, I'd worry that I had a serious health problem. (Of course I HAVE worried that I have a serious health problem...but, I've been thoroughly checked...I'm fine.)

doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat- I feel like this is a weird sentence. My best stab at interpreting this is to say that most of the things that cause my anxiety are figments of my imagination...they are not real. The scenarios I dream up rarely come to fruition. Anxiety constructs a bleak, dismal future that is only marginally rooted in reality. The threat is fictitious.  

self doubt about one's capacity to cope- What will I do? What will I say? How can I survive it? What if it kills me? What if I fail and bring harm, shame, or hardship to those around me? These questions, my friend, are at the core of my anxiety. Without these obsessive thoughts and fears about my ability to cope, it would be easy to dismiss some of my wild plot lines. If I could be outside looking into my mind, I would realize I am just creating my own drama. I know, in my soul, that I can bear up under a great many trials. My brain lies to me and makes me doubt my own strength. It sucks away any confidence I have. 

Anxiety is not just niggling worry or butterflies in my tummy. In my life, anxiety is a soul sucking, joy stealing, laughter robbing obsession. So, this is life for me from October to February. It is always there, but anxiety really gets it's turn in the spotlight at this time of year. All I can do is keep working the plan..and pray. 

Thankful

Well, hello friends!

It's been a little over a month since I took an intentional break from blogging. In general my mental health has been kind of up and down. The truth is, life is designed to be fraught with ups and downs. This truth is, as a recovering perfectionist, still hard to accept. That's why I wanted to write today to share with you a sweet revelation that came into my mind twice last month....because it's the sweet things that give us comfort and courage when we are not at our best.

Last month one of my best friends got married and I was in the bridal party. During the ceremony I was up on the stage. My body was turned in such a way as to both see the bride and groom and to look out into the congregation. On my left, the bride was lovely and elegant. She and her groom listened intently as the pastor officiated their ceremony.

I heard the pastor's words, which were full of life and hope...commitment and love. My heart welled up with love and gratitude because, while he was imparting his words to the bride and groom, I was stealing looks at my little family. As I glanced off to my right, I saw, seated on a pew, my husband and two sons. They were dressed up for the occasion and looked so handsome.

In those moments I felt so fortunate to have a kind and good husband. He looked so strong and capable next to my two small sons. The boys were sitting quietly watching the wedding. Their little faces were peaceful and sweet...and I thanked God as many times as I could that it was my honor to be the wife of that man and the mother to those sons. My heart continued to be happy even when the boys lost interest and began wrestling on the floor on the side aisle.

I had cause to be filled with gratitude again when we recently ventured out of town for a quick weekend trip. My sons were all buckled into their car seats, ready for the drive and I mused to myself  about how big they had gotten. Then a thought came upon me...this was one of the first times I looked at my sons and didn't wish they were older. I loved them, right then and there, just for being what they were. Through the rest of the weekend I was overwhelmed with tenderness for my boys.

My intention for sharing this today is not to boast because God knows these glowing moments of love were just punctuations to long, gritty, mundane days. Rather, I write today to celebrate that an imperfect woman can, every so often, be overcome with breathtaking love for her man and their two little boys. It's beautiful and I am thankful.

We.Are.On.A.Break

Hey sweet readers...as you know the driving force behind sharing my mess with you is to normalize depression and anxiety and document my journey in an authentic and (hopefully) helpful way. Well, I am kind of in a weird place right now...the best way to explain it is in the words of my therapist. As we were chatting, I mentioned that I feel like sometimes flare ups just kind of come out of nowhere. Her answer was "well, as you are doing this work of healing, you have a lot of windows open." That means that my defenses are down and things have an easy way of getting in.

I noticed, especially in August, that I am triggered SUPER often by things on social media. So, if there are windows open in my heart, social media is like a swarm of bees rushing in and leaving little stings that amass into one giant injury. Articles and posts that would normally be benign are causing distress within me. People's reaction to my comments are being taken extra personally and effecting me in unhealthy ways.  Because of this, I have decided to back WAY off of social media (especially Facebook and Pinterest).

Furthermore, even though it is my heart to share this blog for the benefit of myself and others, and the reception of my posts has been very supportive and positive, I personally have some dysfunction around these blog posts. Sometimes, I am posting things that I am not really ready to share. The posts are more raw and leave me feeling much more exposed than is healthy at this time. But, the most messed up thing is how dependent I am on your feedback. If I am feeling particularly vulnerable, I neurotically check my blog views and Facebook comments.  It becomes an inappropriate obsession and again, causes misery within me. Thus, I have decided that it is not safe for me at this time to blog.

I still need to write and have purchased a beautiful journal that I intend to fill up. If I know you personally, I am still fully willing to have an honest and authentic dialogue with you about the subjects of depression and anxiety. I am not sure how long I will be away from my blog...I hope that I can get myself to a place where it's a healthy outlet again. Until that time comes, my blog and I are on a break.

The Good Fight

In my recent blog posts, for some reason I keep talking about my "last" icky bout of depression like it's past tense. It's still happening...I am still in it. There have been some really really dark days and if my head is above water it is only just so. Any little thing sends me back under the thick black water of rage, tears, exhaustion, and suicidal ideation (thinking but not doing).

Last week I had an extremely bad day. In the end, I had a medication issue, but not realizing what was going on, I spent a whole day being an emotional train wreck. On that day, I wrote, and subsequently deleted, a very negative blog post. A few people saw it. It's not vital that I go into it in this post...but it raised some red flags in my family. My mom and sister and a few friends were very concerned for me...as well they should have been. They called or Facebooked and rallied around me. I really needed it. A lot of people I care/cared about are no longer walking with me through this illness. I feel like I am sucking my loved ones dry, so my heart soared to know that people were still willing to be invested in my mess. I am thankful that there are a few people still in my corner...cheering me on and pushing me forward.

This particularly prolonged season of depression has been with me (in varying levels of intensity) for nearly two years. I am burning out on new game plans and new diets and new meds and new blahbbity blahs. I just want to feel good again. I am truly getting weary of fighting. Some days I just want to let the dejection wash over me and have it's way.

BUT...I plan to keep fighting. I am running an emotional marathon. I'm plodding along, but I'm still in the race. There is no new plan in place. I just have to keep working the old one and taking every day as it comes...one foot in front of the other. It is my hope to one day look back on this interval of depression and view it as a time where God used the agony within me to produce beautiful things in me like resilience, strength, hope, and faith.

Shattered

How many times can I break till I shatter?

Over the line can't define what I'm after

I always turn the car around

~O.A.R

One of the special quirks that makes me...me...is the fact that I consider my life to have a running soundtrack. Usually these songs change with every season. About every 3 months, I find myself being totally obsessed with a new song. I'll listen to it on repeat or search the radio for it. If I can't get enough of it, I know I've found my composition du jour . Simply hearing one of these songs can instantly whisk me away...reminding me of of how I was feeling or who I was loving at a particular point in my life.

Here is a quick sample of the tracks that serve as my emotional bookmarks:

• Power Of Love~ Celine Dion
• Kissed By A Rose ~ Seal
• Good Riddance ~ Green Day
• Angel Mine ~ Cowboy Junkies
• Real World ~ John Mayer
• Bring Me To Life ~ Evanesence
• Big Girls Don't Cry ~ Fergie
• Viva La Vida ~ Coldplay
• Sweet Escape ~ Gwen Stefani
• Down ~ Jay Sean
• Party In the USA ~ Miley Cyrus
• We Are Young ~ Fun

Beyond the list of magical time machine tunes, there is yet another list. On this second list is a smaller sample that I consider to be the overarching musical themes of my life...the ones that make me feel like the songwriter had me in mind when they penned the lyrics...they kill me softly, if you will. These melodies are the comfortable places I run to when I feel things way down in my soul. 

Some of those include:

• Hallelujah ~ Rufus Wainwright
• It Is Well With My Soul ~ Horatio Spafford
• Wonderful World ~ Louis Armstrong
• Today ~ John Denver
• Runaway Train ~ Soul Assylum

And...of course...Shattered by OAR. For the last few days I have been looping this song every time I get into my car and wailing the words along with the band (with my windows up, because I am polite). Now, I think that this song is supposed to be about a bad but addictive relationship...but that isn't how it resonates with me. The imagery of being broken so many times that you are afraid you are going to crash to a million pieces, deciding that you can't take it anymore, driving away angry and determined, only to be compelled to turn the car around and head back into the drama...that imagery is a poetic picture of how it often feels for me to be a parent. 

In the last few weeks, motherhood has been less like a joy and more like an emotional assault. Yes, kids are always hard...but in recent times, my sons have been particularly challenging. I've endured literal fits of rage, direct contempt, tyrannical demands, hateful words, and princely entitlement on an hourly basis. Coupled with this barrage of disheartening behaviors has been the continued problem of Big Boy and his struggles in school...unpleasant teacher meetings, continual problem solving, desperate calls to school counselors, and gross, visceral, untidy prayers for the heart and mind of my firstborn. 

Especially since I am just coming off of a "down" time, I am feeling kind of fragile right now. I find myself wondering how many more times I can break 'til I shatter. 

The Family Business

NOTE: I do not have a degree in history. I am writing some of this post from my general (and limited) understanding of historical family and work life. So, if you DO have a history degree and happen to find inaccuracies...just let it go man...I am mostly using "work" as a metaphor. 

Until modern times, it was assumed that whatever trade you found yourself working in...you probably learned it from your parents...and you had every intention of passing this livelihood onto your own children. If your parents were farmers, you'd probably inherit the farm when they passed away. If your parents were weavers, you would inherit their loom and all of their clients once they had gone. If your parents owned the tavern, it was going to be yours one day. 

If your parents were savvy farmers/business people, they prepared you for this inevitability by training you in the ways of the family business from a young age. Farmers had their progeny help pull weeds and milk cows, only to increase their workload and responsibility as they got older. Weavers likely taught children to wind skeins of yarn and how to untie knots, then progressed them into the art of textiles as they matured. The tavern owners probably had their offspring fetch water and wash mugs until they were skilled enough to work the counter and take money. There probably wasn't some big formal plan...it was just life...parents taught children how to do life as they knew it.

We don't really have the same tradition in the 21st century. But, just like gardening gives me a modern connection to my agrarian ancestors, so parenting has, in a way, given me a connection to my ancient foremothers and forefathers. There are skills that I must pass on to my sons that will give them the best shot at life. Tonight, I began to pass on the family business. 

Tonight Big Brother had a big, nasty, violent, tantrum. It was because he didn't feel like he'd been given enough "tablet time" before bed, a small thing. But, the day had already been more than his little mind and heart could bear and the minuscule injustice became the straw that broke the camel's back. My son raged for a good, solid, 5 minutes (which is a really long time when someone is deep in the throws of fury). He kept screaming, "You don't even love me! You don't even care that I was born!" This fear, though untrue and unfounded, has been seeded into his mind. In response to that, I knew it was time to have a family business conversation with him.

The most meaningful teaching that I have had on Proverbs 22:6 is that "train up a child in the way he should go" might mean, guiding the child on the path God has laid within the child's temperament and personality. I regularly pray that God will help me to train my children in accordance to the way He has created them. Big Brother, like me, is a Sensitive (so is Little Brother...but in a different way). I would be remiss if I did not teach my son how to properly handle the blessing and the burden of absorbing the world's emotions. 

Once he calmed down and was serene enough to talk and listen, I went into his room and lay beside him on his bed. I reassured him that he was deeply loved and that I am so glad he was born. Then I showed him the Kindle in my hand, which was opened it to the book cover for The Highly Sensitive Child, I asked him to read the title aloud...then asked him what "sensitive" meant. Using the parallel picture of "sensitive skin", he was able to arrive at a fairly accurate definition. Then I unpacked a little bit of what it means for him, for US, to be Highly Sensitive. Because he's still so little, I didn't get into all of the gritty details...I just needed to hit some specific highlights.

For him, that means creating physical and emotional space for him to defrag when he gets home from school. It also means helping him find appropriate outlets in which to be a feeler, like collecting pop tabs for Ronald McDonald House, donating toiletries to deployed soldiers, and letting him get super involved in his school's anti-bullying campaign. I am tasked with teaching him to pay attention to his moods and find ways to deescalate when he feels himself ramping up. He needs to learn how to have emotions without losing control. He must learn about asking forgiveness for his outbursts and make a conscious choice to let go of the guilt and shame that may result from those emotional eruptions.  I, as his parent, must also teach him about his limits by setting appropriate external ones, like restricting screen time before bed. 

Big Brother is a Sensitive, I am one too, as is my father, my grandfather, and based on the knowledge of my extended family's mental health issues...there were many Sensitives before that...it's, in essence, our family business.  As I have stated before, I consider my Sensitivity a gift from God...I consider Big Brother's Sensitivity a gift from God. So much love and mercy and peace can be given to the world through our sharply tuned emotions. But, unless I teach my son how to properly dispense this ability (and discover those skills myself), the pain and injustice of the world could overpower the beauty of this Sensitivity.

Gluten-free-Pesco-Ovo-Plant-itarian: Is That Even A Thing?

When I was diagnosed with Stage 7 Adrenal Fatigue, my doctor put me on a ton of supplements. She also put me on the Blood Type Diet. I followed it faithfully---for while. Once Little Brother was diagnosed with allergies to ALL OF THE THINGS, I got kind of overwhelmed and just focused on taking care of his complicated food needs. I've been eating any old way I want to. My digestive tract is NOT happy about this. Every time I eat, my stomach rebels and I am getting all kinds of fun pain and drama from my innards.

For a few days I thought the nausea might be allergies. It's ragweed season and that junk runs all of my systems through the wringer. Then I thought I might have a tummy bug because one of my students puked at school...but I kept feeling gross even after the normal time it takes for a stomach bug to run it's course. I know for certain that this isn't morning sickness. And, of course a quick check with WebMD revealed that I probably just have stomach cancer (oh, WebMD). But...I began to notice that the tummy trouble was directly correlating to when I had just eaten...especially if I had eaten sugary carbs or dairy. At that point I surmised that my body was telling me that I needed to again be mindful of the food I was putting into my body.

The Blood Type Diet is used by my naturopathic doctor to use food to reduce inflammation in the body. I am blood type A...so in order to use this diet to quiet inflammation, I have to give up all meat (except fish and eggs) and most dairy (I can occasionally have fresh, un-aged cheeses and plain yogurt). I also am limited to gluten free grains and cannot have potatoes or nightshade vegetables (tomatoes, peppers, eggplant). That's a REALLY lot of dietary restrictions (some of it won't be too hard since Little Brother shares a good many of these restrictions).

Last time I used this diet, I went all the way all at one time.  This time I am going to ease in. It's my hope that by slowly eliminating foods and replacing them with approved alternatives, I can embrace this way of eating as a forever change instead of a short term "diet".  I found some really good lists of how to gradually become a vegetarian. While I am not a TRUE vegetarian, for recipe and meal planning purposes, I am. So...I'm...A...Kinda...Sorta...Vegetarian?

Apparently hard core vegans and vegetarians take issue with people bastardizing their diets by adding non-vegetarian/vegan elements in.  So, in order to assuage the sensibilities of my true vegan and vegetarian brothers and sisters...I am labeling myself a Gluten-free-Pesco-Ovo-Plant-itarian.

NOTE: I also make the vow NOT to preach the tenets of this way of eating. It helps my body feel better. It's not really for weight loss AND it's specific to my blood type....so, it will not be beneficial to everyone. I just want to document all of the tools that I am using to help my body and mind become healthy. If it sounds intriguing, look into it...if not...find your own path grass-hoppa.

The Limitations of Medication

I feel bad right now. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Now, if you are familiar with the world of depression, you'll know that "bad", "rough", "hard", etc. are euphemisms for a depression flare up. There is a mental health concept known as "triggering". That means that something has come up in the life of the person suffering from depression that irritates their wounds and causes their hearts and minds hurt anew.

Ladies and gentlemen, if triggers exist, August has been a MINEFIELD for me. It feels like every time I turn around I get another kick in the heart. The details aren't vital, but the wounds are reopening in all the spheres of my life. It starts off as one "bad" day and then another...then it's been a "bad" week...then a "rough" couple weeks...and finally it dawns on me that, despite my safeguards, I am in the midst of another bout of depression.

For nearly four years I have been on an antidepressant (and really should have been on one LONG before that). I consider it a mercy from God. The medicine has been a tremendous help for me and I can honestly say that I might not be here today if it weren't for my SSRI. But, for as helpful as it is, medication has it's limits. Now and then situations and seasons arise that bring me beyond the confines of what it can be expected to do.

If you'll allow me to draw from the recent misery that is the heat of August, I can create an analogy. When the heat comes, I personally retreat indoors where there is shade and climate control. I consider it a summer snow day and don't leave the house in order to avoid the oppressive heat. If I do need to leave my house, I hop in my car and blast the air conditioner. But, sometimes, when the heat index is 105 or above, all that air conditioner does is make a lot of noise. It's not broken. The system is functioning the way it was designed to...there is just too much heat. The cooling system is just not strong enough to cool the car.

Heat is to air conditioning as emotional distress is to Zoloft. Sometimes there is just too much going on in my brain for the medicine to help. It's working the way it's designed to...it isn't broken, it just isn't strong enough to handle what I am throwing at it. Right now is one of those times. So, in response, I am hurting pretty badly right now.

I like to keep my blog both honest and hopeful...but honestly, it's hard to have hope when I feel like I'm being forced to march down a treacherous road I've already been down.

*Disclaimer...I am not, nor have I EVER, written this blog to illicit attention or pity from any of you. I write to share my struggle, to support others, and paint an authentic picture of what it is like to live with mental illness.

What I Need To Say

A few days ago I decided to take a brief hiatus from Facebook. It's not usually my modus operandi to respond to social media drama by dropping out of it, but for my soul and my emotional well being, I had to remove myself from that environment. The combination of factors ranging from transitions in my family life to the recent conversations around depression and suicide to the painfully polarizing debate over race in our nation has brought my soul into great distress.

God has created me as a feeler. Since my earliest days I have had a natural tendency to connect to the pain of others and share in it as if it were my own. God does not incite the desire to associate with EVERY anguish, but when the Holy Spirit decides to waken that fire in my belly, I am unable to ignore it. There are a handful of topics where God has made my heart particularly soft. I am compelled to involve myself emotionally with these matters.

Now, what I SHOULD do in response this is fall prostrate and plead for these things to a perfect God who has the power to effect healing.  Because I am an imperfect, broken vessel, what often happens instead is that I get myself into relationally risky social media debates. This is the wrong response (for me) and I repent of it. However, I will not apologize or repent for being an inordinately emotional being.  Though it sometimes causes me sorrow, I consider my innate ability to empathize as a beautiful gift from the Lord.

Who Among Us

Robin Williams died today.  At the time of this posting it is speculated that he died by his own hand.  Facebook is awash in outpourings of grief for this lost celebrity.  Maybe for you this is not a pointed loss, but for me (and millions of others), it is. I am shedding tears tonight for this man who, through his film Dead Poets Society, became part of the fabric of my heart.

There was something visceral about that movie. Young men fraught with angst, loneliness, fear, futility, and powerlessness encounter a teacher who connects them to the rest of humanity with a passion for poetry. They find voices they never knew they had through the written word.  Dead Poets Society is so beautiful and lyrical and rich and I loved it from the first time I saw it. It was the movie that inspired me to be both a writer and and teacher. I've absorbed it as part of MY story.

But, even in the film we see that tender hearts and sensitive souls are more fragile.  We see Neil, who is a young man with a desire for the stage. When he realizes he is facing a future with all of the choices stripped from him, he takes his own life.  Creatives always have a twinge of fragility.  I don't think it's possible to feel SO deeply that you MUST make art without being broken (I say this as a writer). So, I am not surprised that Mr. Williams, a creative to the core, committed suicide...deeply saddened...but not surprised.

Sometimes the dejection, the meaninglessness, the utter intensity of feeling all of the feelings all of the time makes life unbearable. This, my friends, I say from experience.  I, myself, have had several days, weeks, months, where I was so numb I couldn't feel anything.  In my brain, I knew that I was a bright, personable, giving young woman.  But in my guts, I felt an overwhelming nothingness.  Dark, thick, pointlessness and uselessness were the weights that I carried all through those seasons. During those times, I often daydreamed about killing myself.  I wasn't trying to get attention or garner sympathy (and am not doing so in writing this).  I, honest to God, just felt like a black hole for love. Praise God, I didn't follow through with my poetic demise. Almost every time, a series of supernatural interventions prevented me from turning my dark fantasies into realities.

As I got older I met more and more people with whom I felt safe disclosing my dark times.  In sharing my depression I discovered something precious and sad...a great many of us have been in that hellish place where we consider ending our lives. It's sad because...well...it's tragic that such a large number of human beings have considered that everything would be better if they just went away...that the pain...the nothingness...would end when they ceased to be.

It's precious because there is hope in hearing the stories of other people who have lived through immense pain, grief, loss, confusion and depression .  They have stepped down from the ledge...found the strength to do one more day. For most of us, suicidal thoughts and desires have burned out before coming to fruition.  The anguish passed and we went on to have more hopeful seasons.

THIS IS WHY I BLOG!

Those of us who have close, personal experience with mental illness need to be honest about our struggles. We need to share our hope with others. In our times of health and brightness, we need to stand alongside our brothers and sisters who are walking through the black nights of their souls. I don't mean to imply that we need to tell our sordid stories to every person we encounter on an elevator. Rather, we need to take stock of our relationships and slow down to see who might be hurting.

Pay attention.  Is someone you love abusing drugs, alcohol, food, sex, piercing, tattooing, work? These are all "medications" for a suffering heart. Talk to them about the pain they are trying to dull (or the numb they are trying to pain). Look into the eyes of, "I'm fine".  It doesn't take much effort to see evasion in someone's eyes...especially if you've been the one hiding your depression...you'll know that "look".  Be honest when you are feeling low yourself. Sometimes the most healing thing I ever heard was a shocked, "Me too!".

Today, an artist took his life. A human being who shared his wacky mind and earnest heart with millions of people is no more. I never met this man...but if I had the opportunity to have a substantial conversation with him...I would have looked him in his eyes and said, "Me too!".

Unexpected Effects

Ten pills...I take ten pills a day now.  A few weeks ago I got my prescription from my naturopathic doctor. I've been on the new medicine for a little over a week now. It's helping. Although the first few days I felt WIRED (like I had gulped down 3-4 cups of coffee), my energy level has tapered off at higher than normal but not overly hyper. That is a welcome change.

Besides higher energy and a little more even mood, I have an unexpected effect from the medication. You see, I've had anxiety AT LEAST since my senior year of high school (15 YEARS people!!). Because of that, I have carried obscene amounts of tension in my neck, shoulders, and face. Most of the time I do not have full range of motion in my neck due to extreme tension. Usually my trapezius muscles are so stiff that it feels like I have metal rods in my shoulders instead of flesh. No joke, I have had massage therapists tell me that they could not massage my neck and shoulders because they were too tight.

Treating the imbalances in my body chemistry has allowed my body to stop being so damn uptight. As a result, my muscles are starting to relax a little...and OH MY GRACIOUS it hurts so much!  Who knew that after 15+ years of tension, my muscles would feel like someone had used them as a punching bag?!  My shoulders and neck are throbbing and achy. I've gotten a couple of tension headaches from UN-TENSING my body.  There has even been a random uptick in my physical anxiety symptoms because my body just feels weird and that of course makes me certain I am going to die and I get anxious. I am able to talk myself down and remember that relaxed muscles are a good thing.

I'm still getting used to the "floppy" feeling of my newly relaxed muscles. My instinct is to re-tense them...just because that feels normal. Sometimes healing is weird...sometimes it causes pain to heal. Ultimately, I know that this weird new side effect of balancing my biochemistry will subside and I will grow more and more accustomed to living life without constant physical tension.

Fresh Start

In T minus one week, my Big Boy will start a new school. He spent his first two years at a Spanish immersion school. Since he's a strong learner, he picked up all that he needed to learn, but was frustrated by the slow-ish pace of the learning as well as irritated by the constant drill and practice worksheets he was required to do. The environment of his classroom was also quite chaotic.  By winter break of his 1st grade year, he had basically shut down and seemed depressed.  We happen to live in a district that has a nice handful of public magnet and charter schools.  They are a little tricky to get into, but we were gifted with the opportunity to switch from the Spanish magnet to a Montessori school this year.

One aspect of the new school that I am expecting to work out better is the classroom structure. My son went to school 4 days after his 5th birthday.  Even though it's common practice to hold boys back a year, I don't regret that choice (I think he would have similar struggles whether or not we'd held him back until he was 6). Montessori schools have multi-grade classrooms.  Big Boy's class will be a mix of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders.  It's my hope that allowing him to spend time with older kids for his brain and younger kids for his heart will help him fit in a little better educationally and relationally.

Another element of the new school that I am looking forward to is the focus on focus. Montessori schools seek to teach students how to work through distraction and disruption.  As a Highly Sensitive Child, Big Boy needs all the help he can get with regard to tuning out distraction in a healthy way.  Previously, in the classroom, he responded to chaos by withdrawing into himself and refusing to do work.  AND, if everyone is focusing...there should ideally be less chaos in his classroom.

The school new school SHOULD be a better fit. It's a Montessori school, which ideally, is more learner centered.  Big Boy loves learning.  He soaks up new information like a sponge and is able to accurately apply that knowledge in other circumstances. So, IDEALLY, this type of school should be a better fit.  But, I've lived long enough to know that there can be a giant disconnect between the ideal and the actual.  So, really, we'll just have to wait and see.

As a human being I consider myself to be an odd mix of hopeful and pessimistic.  Therefore, I am trying not to frame this school change as something magical that will make life glorious for my sweet Big Boy...but I am secretly hoping it will be. In my heart I know that the journey of life with Big Boy will never be simple. Everything that he does is going to require extra work and extra forethought.  I love my baby...he's the special snowflake that God gave to me...and my special snowflake starts his new school in one week.

Status Quo

My stomach was in knots yesterday as I counted down the hours to my doctor's appointment. Two weeks ago, I took a neurotransmitter test...I was about to get the results. While I sort of knew what to expect, the nervousness of the unknown worked its way through my body.

As soon as I stepped into her office and exchanged greetings, my doctor slid the results across the desk. The first thing I noticed was that almost everything was normal. That's was a good thing. No surprises.Then she drew my attention to my serotonin and GABA levels. Even with my antidepressant, my serotonin still tested low. GABA is a brain chemical that is used for calming and it was, by far, my most underfunctioning neurotransmitter. When GABA is low, the symptoms present as anxiety, depression, fatigue, and an inability to handle stress.  Yeah, I have that.

My biggest concern going into this appointment was the treatment. I've gone off of my antidepressant before and it was awful...I was afraid she was going to ask that of me...and I wasn't sure how I felt about that possibility. But, she didn't want me to go off of my meds.  To get my serotonin levels up, she is just adding a supplement to my antidepressant. When I got that news, I breathed a sigh of relief!  Also, because of my levels of serotonin and GABA in combination with some other symptoms I have presented with, she thinks part of my problem is zinc and b6 deficiency...we're just doing some simple supplements for that.

So, the news was not really news and the treatment is kind of minimal.  I'm good with that.  Now we just wait and see if I feel better.  Fingers crossed.

Terrifyingly Hopeful

My journey to health through naturopathic medicine began when I read a book called The Mood Cure by Julia Ross.  I was in the worst state of depression I have ever been in and I was look for natural ways to help myself.  There was a quiz at the beginning of the book to help me narrow down which neurotransmitters deficiency I had.  There were 5 focuses and I had high scores in 4 of them! The book offered, what I consider to be, sound nutritional and supplemental advice (a lot of which has been echoed by my natural doctor).  I gave it a go for about a month, but, I was so far down the path of despair and self loathing that I couldn't claw my way out without pharmaceuticals.  So, I set the book aside and got a new scrip for sertraline (which I had been on for 18 months after Little Brother was born).

At the same time I got my new prescription for antidepressants, I shared with my doctor that I was concerned about my substantial weight gain since having Little Brother.  I had tried dieting and exercise and nothing was working...I was still GAINING weight. She basically told me that my body was just one of those bodies that resists weight loss.  She told me to go on a 1200 calorie, no carb diet and gave me the numbers for several bariatric surgeons.  I wasn't having it!  There was/is something going on with my body chemistry. Completely disgusted with the whole mainstream medical community, I decided to try out a naturopathic doctor.

 I chose my natural doctor for two reasons...1. She is on staff at a local, prestigious, research hospital. 2.Her expertise is in the field of neurotransmitters.  We haven't even started to deal with the weight issues because I was right in thinking that I had some imbalances within my body. Until this month, we had done very little work with neurotransmitters.  I have been considering this test for a long time, since the sertraline has been helpful...lifesaving really...but depression and anxiety still live pretty close to the surface for me.  So, I either needed to go see a psychiatrist and get some sort of cocktail of meds, or try going the natural route under a doctors care. But, because of cost and fear, I have been putting it off.

When I went to go pick up my antidepressant at the pharmacy in June, it had a note that said I had no more refills without an appointment.  I have ZERO intention of ever going back to that doctor. So, I figured now would be an opportune time to do the neurotransmitter testing with my natural doctor The test checks levels for 9 different neurotransmitters.  While there are a few that I am unfamiliar with, The Mood Cure books dealt in depth with 5 of them, so I have at least a basic grasp of what these chemicals do and what symptoms of imbalances are.

The reason that I titled this post Terrifyingly Hopeful is because that is exactly how I feel. It's terrifying, because I have NOT had good luck with being off of my medications.  I get weird withdrawal symptoms (I get "zaps" in my head, which is really similar to the feeling you get when you lick a 9-volt battery) and slowly creep back into crazy. On the other hand, I am hopeful because it will be so helpful to know what my actual levels of neurotransmitters are, instead of just guessing with a checklist. AND, I will not be dosing myself with supplements, I will be following a prescribed plan based on scientific information.

The results take two weeks to return, so I won't know what is going on until close to the end of the month.  I am an intelligent, biology nerd kind of a gal, so I feel confident that I can guess which neurotransmitters are screwy.  What will be interesting to find out is HOW screwy, the balance of chemicals in relation to one another, what her suggestions are for remedying the imbalances, and if there is any hope for me to EVER be off of medication/supplements.

My Final Discourse On Foster Care: Another Long One

Welp folks, it's spill your guts time again on the ol' blog.  An unfortunate few of my Facebook friends knew this was coming. They've had the privilege of receiving some mini-diatribes as comments to their posted articles about foster care.  So, I am going to do this now and I'm not going to do it again....

My Final Discourse On Foster Care

First and foremost I want to say that the plight of the foster child is heart wrenching. They were born into terrible situations...through no fault of their own.  But they have had so much neglect, violence, or abuse in their lives that the state feels like it is in their best interest to break a sacred bond and allow the child to live with another family. It goes against natural and spiritual laws for a child to be removed from his or her mother and it's a sad and serious matter. Usually there have been a plethora of services offered to help the family stay intact. In general, the state does not take the removal of children lightly. I do not wish for this post to be disparaging in any way to these kids.  They are the victims of circumstances that they had zero control over and placed in a system that they have zero control in. This is not about the kids. My issue is with the experience we had as foster parents and the way we were treated by the system and by the church.

Have you ever seen an Army commercial?  Be all you can be.  Army of One.  Heartwarming images of smiling young men and women working as a team flash across the screen. But, in the back of our minds, we know what soldiers really do.  They get deployed to Afghanistan...sent to Iraq...separated from their families. Even if they don't get sent, they live with the tension that any day they could be thrust into the battle.

Recruitment for foster parents is just as misleading. We hear statistics that tug on our heart strings, "Hundreds of thousands of kids are in the system right now"..."Thousands of teens age out of the system every year"..."If every Christian family took in a child, there would be no children waiting for homes." We hear rhetoric from our faith communities, "It's the job of the church to care for the orphan"..."If we were doing our job as believers there wouldn't be a need for a foster care system"..."God adopted you, shouldn't you consider adopting a child in need."

But the reality is that our experience with foster parenting felt like a battle.  The caseworker sold us the idea of the kids like a used car dealer sells a Ford Taurus. She said they were great kids, minimized their issues, glossed over their reason for being in care, gave us hope that this would be a short placement, and completely left out VERY important details in their case. We were so enchanted with the idea that we were going to use the weapon of love to help fix something that is broken in our world...we took the kids.

In our experience love looked like strict rules, door alarms, assigned seating, explaining to a child that they had to stop using tears as a form of manipulation, mopping up pee every single day for 8 months, teaching kids about the sacredness of their bodies, problem solving, problem solving, problem solving, coming up with creative ways to teach basic social norms and teaching them over and over and over and over again, enduring screams of "I hate you! I want my mom!", and never giving any slack because if we relaxed the rules or expectations even a little, the kids saw it as weakness or instability and began to act out. That was how we were able to love the kids we had...and it sure as hell didn't line up with the recruitment messages.

And while we were in this battle, our friends, family, and faith community all but abandoned us. Friends didn't want to deal with the drama that ensued when we brought our family over. Constant correction isn't a pleasant thing to witness and most certainly isn't most people's idea of a good time. Our family wasn't there for us because they felt like we put ourselves into this situation and their advice was just to quit. If the kids went away, the drama would go away.  That brings us to the church.  We had a select handful of people who intentionally invested in our lives and for that we are deeply thankful.  However, most of the time people didn't want to hear anything negative that would soil their golden ideal of what it was like to "care for the orphan".  They put their fingers in their ears and sang "lalalalalalala".  People would bring us meals...but most of the time they handed it off and the door and bolted out of there as fast as they could...no investment, just feeding.

So, for most of the time we were foster parents we were enduring emotional, spiritual, and physical assault.  And we were doing it mostly alone...as the stay at home mom...I was mostly doing it alone. But, I BELIEVED in the cause. I blew through several stop signs that told me that this placement was all wrong for our family because I didn't want to add trauma to these children's lives. I BELIEVED that I was helping to make a difference in a child's life and make God's name known through doing so. Then, after months and months of scraping the bottom of my emotional, spiritual, and physical barrel, the placement came to a crashing end.

Have you ever been part of an exercise where you write down ten values...then you have to let go of two...then two more...and so on until you are at a point where you are asked to choose only one key value?  Choosing to end our placement was like that.  I had to, very literally, decide between two values that I held very, very dear...glorifying God by caring for the orphan or protecting my own biological children.  Behaviors that were unsafe began to show up with frequency and vigor. I just had an overwhelming bad feeling about where these behaviors were headed.  We asked for the kids to be moved.  Not a week later a big bad unsafe situation came to light and I knew that we'd made a right decision.  The kids were removed unceremoniously from our home.

Having to choose between two gut level, heart level, soul level values is excruciatingly painful. My therapist says I have a trauma response to the topic of foster care. Having been a foster parent is my 9-11. The experience has left me with wounds so deep, I will never be the same again.   I'm not the same person I was and am now on a much different path than I would have been otherwise.

Not everyone's experience with fostering is bad...or this bad...but it's been a painful experience for a lot of people.  The statistic is that 50-60% of foster parents quit after their first placement.  When I heard that statistic in training, I was a giant judgey-judgerson.  But those people who quit...most of them are good people...people who love kids...people who love Jesus...and people who discovered that foster care was not just "too hard" it was the most emotionally and spiritually expensive thing they've ever done...and they are hurting.

I don't wish (necessarily) to discourage people who desire to become foster parents. But, I think there would be a whole lot less collateral damage to kids and to families if we walked into this ministry with open eyes.  It's not just a little challenging or inconvenient, anyone who accuses you of giving up because it's too hard is putting you on a guilt trip.  Foster care is hard as hell and if you are willing to walk in that truth and to own that, knowing that it could cost you more than you agreed to pay...then go forth and serve my friend.  If, like me, your deepest desire is to serve your community for the sake of Jesus, find a different way to do that. Caring for the orphan through foster parenting is a calling...it's not meant for every ear in the congregation.  Please don't let any sentimental, emotionally wrought, Bible thumping, propaganda convince you to do something that God has not asked of you.

A Really Nice Day

We are now at the beginning of the third week of summer.  I was so excited for school to be done so we could start our laid back, fun, easy summer. Unfortunately, like many things we build up in our head, it hasn't been the blissful season that I envisioned.

The first few weeks were pretty rough.  We had to readjust to being together all of the time.  Even three weeks in Little Brother still wakes up and asks me "where am I going today?"...wondering if it's an at-home day, a preschool day, or a Nana day. But, we're starting to get into a rhythm...and that's a good thing.

On Mondays we are getting together with my sister, her best friend (who has been part of our family for 15 years) and their preschool kiddos.  Yesterday we took them to a local children's spot for some art, ecology, and lunch. Nothing really spectacular happened...but it was a really nice day.

I've been very forthcoming in sharing that motherhood has been rough for me.  For most of my children's lives I have struggled with irritability, depression, disengagement, frustration, and stress. While I still have moments that are characterized by these attributes, in the last year I have become more relaxed, joyful, and engaged when it comes to my sons.

Yesterday they were well behaved, fun, and great listeners. I truly just loved watching them play and have fun with their cousins.  Now, I realize that you just have to be thankful for a tantrum/drama free day...but honestly I wonder if we don't feed off of each other's attitudes.  If I am tranquil and content, they seem to be less likely to get crazy.  If I am agitated and barking commands through gritted teeth, it seems to ramp them up.

When I came home and recounted the day to my husband, I just had an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the gift of appreciating my children.  I am dead serious when I say that this change in attitude toward my babies can only be the work of Jesus in my life.  I don't mean that in a creepy, church lady, televangelist way. But, I honestly believe that Jesus uses the stuff of life to shape our hearts...the great stuff and the gross stuff.

The path that life has led me down has been rocky.  I've stumbled, tripped, lost my way, and sat down to cry in despair.  I believe most people have a similar story (that's why I blog...we're all in this together).  The difference in my life is that I have a God that walks with me, pulls me up, redirects me, and let's me spend some time resting on glorious green hills.  Yesterday, I got to sit on a hill and enjoy the view of my sweet kiddos.  It was a really nice day and I appreciated it.

High Ideals

Lately I've been struggling with my faith...particularly with regard to my church and their expectations of what the gospel centered life should look like.  My church teaches that absolute selflessness is the ultimate way to follow God and that if I am not pouring my whole self out for the sake of others (sacrificing), then God is not being fully glorified.  I've written on this topic before (here and here), because I really wrestle with the disconnect between what church culture is advocating and what has been my life experience.

One of my personal dysfunctions is that I actually want to live up to expectations.  If the pastor says I should do something...I want to be ALL IN...I want to throw my whole self into service and be the very best sacrificer I can be.  But, because I struggle with perfectionism, knowing how pitifully short I fall of that ideal causes me great shame and pain. The standard of perfect selflessness and constant sacrifice and  is too high for me.  I'll never reach it. In my (recent) past I've allowed the absolute impossibility of meeting this ideal to cripple my ability to live my life. My human frailty is a constant source of humiliation.

Here's the thing though, sometimes I think the church adds rules and standards where they shouldn't. Teachers and preachers often take what is meaningful or beneficial for them and make it into a mandate. Also, I think that some spiritual leaders merely posit ideals and don't fully understand that that are some of us whose brains turn those ideals into requirements for faith. In the past I have been greatly influenced to make life decisions based on what words came out of a trusted spiritual teacher's mouth. I'm older and wiser now and I've been knocked on my ass a time or two. While I wouldn't say I am jaded or cynical about church, I would say that I am more discerning and skeptical of what I am being taught on Sundays.

While some of us are asked to live spiritually grand lives of poverty, abnegation, and intense suffering, a great many more of us are asked to be sacrificial and selfless in the mundane and boring rhythm of an average life.   Every day there are opportunities to give my time, money, and energy to other people. Many times I "sacrifice" without even stopping to consider it.  I think that, all too often, I forget that life is lived in the moments. My life can be characterized by selflessness and sacrifice...it doesn't take a giant, gut wrenching, painful undertaking.  I get to choose to love God in the choice I am making RIGHT NOW. I can chose to be selfish/self centered or to be patient, humble, or peaceful in THIS MOMENT.  For me, those are easier choices to make than to decide which social justice cause to unabashedly dedicate myself to. I want to actively love God and others.  In those seconds where I get to make a snap decision, I hope that desire radiates from each interaction I have with the people in my sphere of existence.

The point where the gospel comes into all of this is that...I can't even live in the moment perfectly.  I will sometimes choose selfishness.  I will often choose laziness.  I will flounder, fail, and fall revoltingly short of the life I desire to live.  That's humanity folks.  God knows that.  He offers a perfect substitution to permanently cover all of the nasty, sickening, selfish choices I have made/am making/will make.  I can rest in that and know that no matter what lofty edicts are spouted at me from a pulpit by another human being...if I am in Christ, I am perfect.

GF-DF-EF-PF and because it matters SF

This Monday I got the news I expected but dreaded.  Since birth, my youngest son has had a fairly severe case of eczema as well chronic nasal congestion and intestinal issues.  We've seen dermatologists, allergists, and his pediatrician on a regular basis.  When he was 1, we had him tested for food allergies at the allergist. The results came back negative.  We've tried lotions, steroids, bleach baths, Zyrtec, Hydroxozine, Zinc supplements, and all sorts of other eczema remedies.  Our home has been fragrance and dye free for the last 7 years (when my Big Boy was also born with eczema).  Even with all of these interventions, Little Brother's eczema is still so bad that he has scarring and is ceaselessly itching his skin. Whenever we go somewhere new or meet new people I have to explain that he isn't contagious, but that he has really bad eczema.  That's tough.

Last Spring we became aware that Little Brother wasn't growing at a normal rate.  He'd barely gained any weight and had only grown slightly taller.  After a little research, I became concerned that our use of steroids was stunting his growth (recent research may have revealed another cause, but stunted growth is a side effect of steroid use).  We visited his doctor and tried everything we could think of to help heal his poor skin besides using the steroid creams.

He continued to have a constant itchy rash on most of his body...it was worst on his little hands which were beginning to become deformed from swelling and bleeding. Finally, I decided to try taking him to my naturopath.  The only reason I had been hesitant before was because it is SOOOO expensive to go to her.  I personally already spend upward of $300 every time I see her.  But, he was so miserable, I decided to put off my treatment and get him an appointment instead.

The morning we went to see her I could tell that she was quite concerned for him.  She asked about his breathing (which has always been a little Darth Vader-ish because of his chronic congestion) and decided immediately that we would take him off of all dairy. Additionally, she ran an extensive blood test to check for food allergies.  I told her that he'd been tested and his results were negative.  That's when she explained to me that the traditional tests check for the kind of histamine that causes anaphylaxis, the test she was running would check for a different histamine.

After waiting 4 weeks for the test results to come back, we discovered that my son is severely allergic to Wheat (gluten), ALL dairy (even goat dairy), eggs, and peanuts.  He is moderately allergic to almonds (bye bye almond milk), hazelnuts, citrus, and soy.  His doctor wants him to be off of the moderate allergens for 4 months.  She told me that we may get to reintroduce some of the other foods in the distant future, but that with as high as his dairy reaction was, he's likely never to be able to have it. I guess since I suspected that these would be his results, I wasn't knocked over by this new dietary revelation.

However, in anticipation of the meeting with the doctor, I mentally prepared myself.  Because of my mental health patterns, I knew that I needed to find a way to avoid the overwhelmedness that so often triggers my anxiety and depression. I've decided that the best defense to is eat the elephant one bite at a time.  Focusing on meal planning for TODAY...or THIS week is all that I can do.  And, really that feels doable.

If I look at the big picture of what it means for my family to go Gluten Free, Dairy Free, Egg Free, Peanut Free, and Soy Free (because a lot of items replace dairy with soy and he is moderately allergic, I feel like we need to include that), I will quickly begin to feel the weight of this challenge.  Going into anxiety (insane obsession) mode won't help anyone.  These changes are probably life long changes. Though I immediately cleared most of the allergens out of our home, I realized that I don't have to figure EVERYTHING out right now.  And truly, it feels good to have that kind of control over my mental health. I get to choose how I handle this and I am choosing to do it with a calm mind and a hopeful attitude (his skin already looks better, so that is very encouraging).

The other mental health concern I have is being labeled "one of those people".  Firstly, Little Brother does not puff up and have a deadly reaction to these allergens.  It's more systemic and a lot of people have a misconception of what eczema is, so making such drastic dietary changes seems overly dramatic. What most people don't understand is that eczema is not just dry skin. Little Brother's eczema is a constant, FULL BODY rash that he itches until it bleeds (and I discovered that Celiac disease shows up with a similar rash, so it very well could be that since he also has most of the symptoms of that disease). I don't enjoy the idea of being the lady who has to give the Wikipedia run down of his health issues every time the allergen topic comes up.  Deciding when to educate and when to just allow people to be judgmental is going to be tough.

Secondly, some people who are gluten free or vegan are making a CHOICE about their diet.  Often those people have a recruitment mindset and sermonize about their choices. That annoys me (and many others).  We MUST be gluten free, vegan (no eggs, no dairy, though we still eat meat), and peanut free because our son is chronically and adversely effected by those things.  Unless you are in the same health situation and are looking for solutions, it's not my job to convert you to gluten free- peanut free-meat eating veganism.  Being lumped in with diet zealots makes me uncomfortable, but I have to make a conscious choice to not care.  That will be tough.

Treating Little Brother's health issue is going to be a marathon and not a sprint.  It will take endurance, commitment, and probably lots of tears (from both of us).  I will need support from family, friends, and caretakers.  But in a weird way, I feel like God giving me this situation is a chance for heart level transformation.  In the past endurance has been a weakness of mine.  This time, my child's health is at stake.  I can't give up.  I can't get overwhelmed.  When the days come where it feels unbearable, I have to dig in and allow God to fill me with strength that I don't have so that I can pick myself up and keep going for the sake of my son.

Satisfaction

Over a year ago, I started the process of healing from adrenal fatigue.  There have been countless positive changes to my health and well being.  Lately there is a new change in my body that I am super excited about...I am getting full when I eat...and staying full until the next meal. This may be a sensation that you take for granted, but the feeling of satisfaction after a meal is a new experience for me.

Leptin is the hormone that sends signals to the brain when the stomach is full.  There are several causes for leptin deficiency.  Firstly, eating too much processed food too quickly is usually the impetus for leptin to start getting wacky.  So, we find yet another reason why Americans keep fighting this battle with unwanted weight.  As a teacher (and my whole life as a student) I have 20 minutes to eat lunch. That's it.  I have to eat fast or I don't eat at all, this habit follows me as I inhale breakfast and slurp down dinner.  So, the stage has been set for me to have this issue for decades.

Secondly, jacked up cortisol, zinc deficiency (which I am also being treated for), and low serotonin (depression much) can all contribute to the inability to feel full during a meal. When ya don't get full, guess what...you keep on eating...and guess what...you gain weight...and guess what... the hormones spiral more and more out of control.

With the help of my doctor, my naturopath, and my therapist, we've been working toward restoring my body to a healthier state.  In the last few months I've noticed that it doesn't take nearly as much food to make me feel full.  AND...if I keep pressing on after I am full, I feel AWFUL for up to a day later.  This gross feeling that comes from overeating is a GIANT deterrent against cleaning my plate (or overloading it in the first place).

I haven't placed myself on a scale for months, so I'm not sure whether or not my weight is being effected by this new biological change.  Whether or not my waistline responds, I am thankful for this new sign that my body is getting back into its intended balance.  

NOTE: The ability to feel full has brought up some weird heart/mind issues for me...more on that a different day.

Substitute For Perfectionism

I want SO badly to be perfect...to never make a mistake...to know everything...to be the best...to excel in every endeavor. This week I am reminded that perfection is not attainable...life is process.  

I am working in a 6th grade classroom for 4 more weeks as the Math teacher.  While I am enjoying the work, there are some areas of improvement in my craft that have popped up as I have undertaken this endeavor.  Last week, I had a good mindset.  I took the input of other teachers and support staff as helpful, kind advice (which it TOTALLY is).  This week, I am noticing, that I am starting to worry and obsess about my shortcomings instead of understanding that I can't "nail it" every time.  

At the end of today I was feeling pretty yucky...then I just decided..."I'm not going to do this!" I am going to own the fact that some facets of my career need a little more polish. I am honestly doing my very best to keep up with lessons, grading, make up work, and classroom management. That's all I can do.  I'M NOT PERFECT and nobody really expects me to be.  They expect a certain degree of competency...which I feel like I am giving. 

I'm doing my utmost to give 100% and my efforts are generally being met with encouragement...and a little constructive criticism.  Constructive means to build up...that is a good thing. This is my first time being a long term sub.  It's a different ball game.  I have some things to learn and I am accepting that without absorbing it into my self image.  

This is a growing experience.  When I am done with this assignment, I will have more knowledge...more practice...more tricks in my bag.  Instead of getting all melancholy and focusing on my "failures", I am making a concerted effort to frame this experience as a period of positive development as an educator.  That's honestly what it is. I will be a better teacher at the end of May than I am right now. That's the point of trying something new.  You get to see what skills need more work...where you are lacking...and strengthen them so that you are better than when you started.

 Progress...not perfection!

Fit

Since I was in college, God has taught me important spiritual concepts using the method of  the thematic unit. For the non-educators who may be reading this, a thematic unit is a when all of the lessons for each individual subject (math, science, language) are tied together by a certain topic.  So, if your topic is The Solar System, your math would be calculating light years or distances.  Science would be researching planets and other components of the Solar System. Students would write a report about a planet for the Language component and so on.  I'm not sure why God uses this method for me, but it has been effective over the years.  I don't realize we are in a thematic unit until I start to see concepts repeating themselves in different spheres of my life.

A few units we've covered are Trust, Unconditional Love, Humility, Rest, Selflessness, and Grace. My current thematic unit from God is "Fit".  This kind of Fit has less to do with, say, fitness or clothing size, and more to do with finding the right places where I am able to use my gifts, abilities, energies, and resources. What is a good Fit for me?

It started last Spring when I began to make peace with Foster Failure.  As I processed through my thoughts and feelings, I started to think that maybe I wasn't a heartless monster and fostering was just not a good Fit for me.  Then I kept finding myself wanting to transition from being a stay at home mom who worked part time to a working mom who stayed home part time.  I never really enjoyed staying home, but felt pressure to be at home from my culture and guilt because we could afford for me to do so and I just didn't want to. Then I felt a peace in my heart and began to think maybe I'm not a just a selfish, ungrateful mother...maybe staying at home full time is just not a good Fit for me.

This unit has followed me through this year.  We had to decide to move our child from a pretty good school because it was not a good Fit for him.  I've made spiritual decisions about how to pray and how to receive the Word of God that are not traditional because the traditional way is not a good Fit for me.

Today I am blogging from a 6th grade classroom (the kids are at band...I'm not neglecting them).  I accepted my first long term assignment for the last 5 weeks of school.  This was really a huge step for me because my own teaching career ended with me crashing and burning out. I came away from my last year of teaching feeling incompetent, useless, and slightly traumatized. Thinking about returning to the classroom was out of the question.

For the next month, I'm here all day, every day...instead of bopping around daily from one school/class/situation to another.  I have to take on the majority of the responsibilities of the classroom teacher and be the woman in charge of twenty-four 11-12 year olds...and I am really enjoying it and really quite good at it. And, this morning as I was walking through the halls of this elementary school, I wondered, "what if I wasn't an abysmal failure of a teacher"? What if the school/grade/district was just not a good Fit for me?

It just seems like God is using this time to teach me that my "failures" have been less about my worth as a human being and more about finding a place in the world where I can use the strengths that have been knit within me.  As always, I understand that there will be times when I must be stretched and grow. But, as I've already decided, I don't have to go looking for those opportunities...they'll find me.

I've spent too many years trying to stuff myself into the wrong shaped holes and then being mad at myself for failing. But God's word says, even in the church, not everyone has the same roles and gifts (1Cor 12). Some people are made to joyfully and easily do the things that cause me stress and pain.  I should let them do those things and remove from their backs the load that I was created to carry.  It's not just OK for me to find situations, methods, and philosophies that are a good Fit for me...it's necessary for my good and for the good of my fellow human beings.

Holy Week 2014: Easter Space

In my last post I kind of spun Easter in a pessimistic light.  But at the end, I resolved to take responsibility for my own worship. I decided to find a way to create some meaningful space for my soul to celebrate the Resurrection in a way that was different from previous years.  As it turns out, the solution was pretty simple.

In the morning, I carved out about 15 minutes of space.  I bundled myself in blankets, then took my coffee and my iPod out to the porch.  Outside, I took some time to breathe in Spring.  I don't think it's accidental that Easter is in Spring.  For me, it's just another way that God reveals His love as an object lesson.  Things in Spring burst to life and fill the world with beauty and fragrance and newness.  Spring causes me to worship a God who, after a cold, harsh season, makes all things new again.

After I took a minute to just be...I popped my ear buds in and shuffled through to some of my favorite worship songs on my iPod.  There are a handful of songs that always whisper truth and peace to my soul. They are lyrical and poetic...violins soar, harmonicas wail, drums lead my heartbeat, and voices sing rich, heavy theology.  This is worship that matches my "heartsong" (little Happy Feet reference for ya).

I pondered, I prayed, I cried. In the quiet, I connected to God.  I thought of Him, thanked Him, let love flow out of my heart and allowed Him to pour out love for me.  It was space.  It was worship.

While 15 short minutes wouldn't seem to make much difference, today's quarter of an hour did.  Taking time to focus my heart and mind informed the rest of my day.  I was able to have a soft, teachable heart during the sermon.  I was comfortable being as exuberant as I cared to be without feeling the weight of the "shoulds" of Easter.

Knowing myself and feeling free to change the way I do things, has today, proven to be beneficial for my soul.  I am a woman who is wrapped up in doing things "right".  Today, right was different.  Right was thinking outside the box and being intentional about interacting with God the way I was uniquely created to.

Holy Week 2014: Easter

NOTE: I was planning to write about Good Friday because it is a new tradition for me (within the last 5 years), but this year, I didn't attend the service because April Birthday-palooza happens to be the same week as Easter this year and I used my Friday evening to fit in Birthday celebration #1. Thus, I don't feel like I am in a place to write about that observance right now.  Maybe next year I can blog about Good Friday and how it affects me.

SOOOOO, Easter.

Of all of the days of Holy Week, Easter feels the least spiritual for me.  Growing up, my family did not attend church on Easter.  It was a quiet day out in the sunshine, feasting on candy from my Easter basket and hunting poorly dyed eggs (my sister and I used to mix all of the colors together...so we'd often just have a bunch of ugly camo-green eggs).  I loved our Easters.  Since becoming an adult, I have attended church every Easter, except the one when I had strep throat. To be frank, I don't really enjoy it.  Now that you are done gasping from my "blasphemy", allow me to unpack my feelings.

Easter is a sacred and beautiful day.  It commemorates a God so powerful that He could receive the worst punishment in history (dying with the sin of the world on his shoulders), conquer the consequences (eternal separation from God and death), all so we could be reconciled to our Creator. The truth is that , usually by the end of the day on Easter, I've barely thought about Jesus all day because I've been sleepwalking from one activity to another all day.  While it's a "nice" day.  It's just not very spiritual for me.  We talk a lot about creating "space" for worship at our church...but for some reason, I just can't find any space to worship The Lamb of God at Easter.

First of all, the service is usually earlier than normal.  After waking up earlier than usual, getting more dressed up than usual, and leaving the house earlier than usual, I just spend most of the sermon yawning and wishing I was home taking a nap.  While I feel terrible that I can barely keep my eyes open, I'm not sure what I can do to remedy that besides what I am already doing (getting to bed early and drinking coffee).  It's not really a spiritual issue, but my body being out of it's normal Sunday rhythm.  Then, the service is usually longer than normal.  I am already tired and having trouble staying awake, now I have to try to keep my decorum for 20-30 extra minutes?!

Additionally, there seems to be this strange pressure to feel more exuberant about my faith than normal. That's weird for me. Even though I am a giant extrovert, I'm not very flashy about spiritual things. It's my bent to be quiet and reflective when I consider my Savior. I don't desire to be extra peppy for Easter.

What would I do differently?  Well, for starters, I loved the slow pace of Easter that we had when I was growing up.  No, we didn't go to church, but there was emotional space...space that, now that I am a believer, could be well spent connecting and communing with my Risen Savior.  I could spend some time in my morning thinking and being quietly in awe of the wonder of Jesus.  Then my heart could be prepared for an extra long sermon.  I could be spiritually rested and have the energy to do the Easter activities that I love with my family.

My worship is my responsibility.  Regardless of what church does or says I should do, I need to carve out time to connect with God in a way that fits for me.  I want Easter to be spiritual...not because anyone tells me to...but because I desire it. This year I am going to look for some space...it will be interesting to see where I find it.

Holy Week 2014: Passover

Princess Vespa: I am Princess Vespa, daughter of Roland, King of the Druids.

Lone Starr: Oh great. That's all we needed. A Druish princess.

Barf: Funny, she doesn't look Druish.

~Spaceballs (1987)

The Spaceballs quote above is my goofy way of broaching the awkwardness of being a Christian who celebrates a Jewish religious holiday. I have a deep respect for the Jewish faith.  Though I don't share a modern history with the Jews (I can't even pretend to understand the pain that they have gone through as a people group), we do share an ancient and Holy history. We both learn the stories of Creation, the Flood, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Joshua, David, Esther, Ruth, and Isaiah.  The first 2/3 of the Bible is (mostly) similar to Jewish holy texts.

We differ, in that, I believe that the Messiah has already come...Jews are still waiting. Christians believe that Jesus was the final and complete sacrifice for the atonement of sin. Jesus, the Son of David, the Son of God, the Messiah, participated in Passover...and fulfilled it by being the Ultimate Sacrifice that would free us from our slavery to sin and death. By His blood on our souls, God's wrath for our wrongs is pacified and we can be adopted as sons and daughters of the Creator. He even gave us a way to understand this concept within the tradition of Passover by instituting communion with the wine as His blood and the bread as His body. So, it is my belief that Passover can have a place in the rhythm of the Christian life.

I did not attend my first Seder until after I was married (so, well into my 20s). My husband and I got together with a small group of couples from our Sunday school class and went through the Passover Seder.  It was wonderful! The beautiful symbolism, the solemn remembrance, and the sensorial elements helped me find a fresh way to connect with my faith!  I left the Seder with a rekindled connection to my Hebrew ancestors and my Hebrew God.

Last year, we attended our Jewish neighbors' big Passover Seder. But, this year, my Big Boy (who has been very interested in matters of faith recently) offhandedly asked if we could have a Passover at OUR house.  I was up for it, so we invited my mom, dad and sister to join our little family for a small, intimate Passover Seder.

In the weeks before the Seder, I Googled a Christian Haggadah (order of service).  I found a really great one that not only gives the "script" for the Passover, but also gave good back-story about the traditions for those of us who did not grow up with this festival.  The Christian Seder we used basically follows the traditions of the Jewish Seder, except for the observation of the Place for Elijah. Instead of awaiting Elijah, we remove his place setting and announce that Elijah has already come and so has the Messiah.  (I think that the Haggadah we used was also shorter than a Jewish Seder because, apparently, Christians can't handle a lengthy religious exercise) ;) Besides finding the Haggadah, I had to plan out what materials I needed for the Seder, what we would eat at the meal, and various logistical things. It took hours and hours just to plan out this two hour dinner.

The day before I had TONS of tasks to tend to.  Preparing the home for Passover is a great deal work (particularly for the woman of the house). There was lots of food to cook, bones to boil, a house to clean, candlesticks to find, and elements such as charoset, karpas, and moror to prepare (and SOOOOO many dishes to wash!).  Even so, I found myself working joyfully...anticipating this sacred celebration.  My heart had a song in it and that made the work easy and fulfilling.

When my family arrived, they were seated at one of the fanciest tables I've ever set (frankly, the bar wasn't all that high, we're kinda casual around here).  But, I thought that Passover was an appropriate occasion to use a table cloth, real dishes, and crystal candlesticks (which I received from my wedding and have not used once in nearly nine years).  Each adult was given a 14 page order of service.  The man of the house, woman of the house, the children, and the attendees all have roles in the service.  Since we are Passover newbies, I thought it would be easiest for everyone if they had a "script" to follow. Mostly, since it was our first time hosting, my husband and I awkwardly bumbled through it! (It helps that there's wine.  It makes me a lot less uptight about getting it "right"!)

My family seemed to enjoy the Seder. The kids did not do well, so we just allowed them to go upstairs and play.  Big Boy stayed through the 4 Questions, which are supposed to be read by a child.  He can read now, so it was cool to see him use his new big kid skills to participate in the Seder.  At the conclusion of the meal, we agreed to hold a Passover Seder again next year.  It will be interesting to see how the meaning of the ceremony evolves as we get more comfortable with the rhythm of the Haggadah.

So, Passover 2014 is now on the books in our home.  Next year in Jerusalem!


NOTE: My heart goes out to the families of the victims of the Jewish Community Center shootings in Kansas yesterday.  I am grieved that this year's Passover festival had to be held in the shadow of senseless violence.  I'm so sorry for your loss.