The Sins Of The Mother

I was planning to continue writing about Christmas and what I am doing to navigate it, but there is something weighing so heavily on my heart that I can't focus on writing that Christmas post quite yet.

You see, I have this son...I've been calling him Big Brother on this blog.  He's almost 6 1/2.  And...he's struggling...I'm struggling to watch him struggle.  My heart is literally in agony for this child.  There is deep, visceral anger in the heart of my child.  He is angry all of the time.  But, it's not just "I didn't get my way so I'm gonna yell now"...it's more intense and more raw than that. 

He's having trouble making friends at school; playing by himself all of the time.  We have tons of kids in our neighborhood, but nobody plays with Big Brother. He goes to a different school, so that might be a factor, but otherwise, I'm not sure what the deal is.  He's starting to make up stories about who he played with and what they played.  I can tell it's a story because of the way he tells it, he's clearly just making it up from the top of his head...that breaks my heart.

He will come home from school with a sour face and his head hung low.  When I ask him how his day went, he'll say "not good" and then tell me about a minor behavior infraction he committed at school...talking, getting out of line, etc.  My tiny little perfectionist is mad at himself that he messed up...that breaks my heart.

He is constantly yelling, seething, or withdrawing during interactions with our family.  On days when he is happy, my heart soars with him and I try to keep from being too hard on him and ruining that mojo. 

The reason his behaviors sucker punch me in the guts is that when I look at him...I see me...and that breaks my heart.

I had trouble making friends, I was overly sad when I messed up, I had anger in my heart (though I held it inside).  I know the struggles I've had...the pain I've had...and I desperately don't want that for him. 

Additionally, Big Brother is what I call an "empath".  He feels what other people feel, especially me.  He's been like that since he was born.  I think all children have this quality, but his is VERY pronounced and dominant for him.  So, when I see all of this anger and perfectionism and loneliness in my son I know that he's seen it modeled by me.  I HATE THAT!  That knowledge is too big for me to shoulder. This is one instance where I am going to have to put on my big girl pants, forgive myself, and put all of my energy into helping my son.

The first thing I am going to do is spend more time pleading with Jesus for my son's heart.  I'll pray that he will be healed from this anger, that God will bring him a friend, and that he will learn not to be so hard on himself.  God made my baby and He will care for my baby.

Secondly, I am going to talk to some educational professionals and find some good books on parenting gifted children.  I'm pretty sure my son has a high IQ (I'm speaking as an educator...not just a proud mommy).  There is a giant difference between "smart" and "gifted".  Gifted is a diagnosis of sorts.  It comes with many negative behaviors and experiences, including isolation from peers and struggles with finding friendship.  I think getting as informed as I can about this topic will be beneficial. 

Lastly, I will have to make lots of efforts to intentionally teach and correct some of the perfectionistic and angry tendencies of my son.  I've been learning a lot about myself and now I can related it to my son, who is showing signs of similar struggles.  Since he's brainy, he'll be able to grasp this information and hopefully make use of it. 

I love my son more than I love my own life.  I will do whatever is in my power to help him navigate this journey.  

Christmas Aversion

 "Ooh! I hates Christmas!"

-Yosemite Sam (Bugs Bunny's Christmas Carol)

  

 

I don't hate ACTUAL Christmas.  Christmas is a wonderful holiday full of family, warmth, and hope.  There are just some things about this season that I just can't identify with.  Happy crafters who are dumbfounded that I don't wish to set a holiday display on my mantle stress me out.   People who obsess about finding that perfect gift drive me crazy.  I don't own a set of Christmas dishes, loathe the constant blast of Christmas music, and get crabby when it's time to decorate the tree.   It's as if there is some far and wide Midwestern American idea of what the Christmas season should be like...and...I don't get it.  That makes me feel lonely.  I find myself wondering WHY I roll my eyes, heave a sigh, and grouch my way through the holidays.  This year, I may have found my answer. 

 

Last weekend I was mentally preparing myself for the emotional assault that is the Holiday Season.  I was reflecting on the hangups I have and wondering what my deal was.  Then, it occurred to me a lot of these things really ARE foreign concepts to me.  Until I was 11 years old, my dad was in the Army.  Because of this, there was never a "going to grandmas" feel to the holiday season.  My experiences with Christmas have created a unique lens with which I view this holiday.

 

When I was 3 years old, I spent Christmas a nuclear weapons facility in, what was then, West Germany.  My dad's job was to guard the Pershing II missiles that were housed in this location.  He would be gone for several months at a time.  That year, his rotation happened to include the month of December.  Soldiers were not allowed to leave the facility when they were on rotation.  To boost morale, their wives and children were bussed from the base several hours away.  My pregnant mom and I rode this large, school bus-like vehicle on Christmas evening.  I got to see my dad for two hours, then we boarded the bus and rode back home late Christmas night. 

 

The Christmas I was 6 was spent at my aunt and uncle's house in a small Kansas town.  Again, my dad wasn't around because he was in school to change his MOS (something like a career change).  I didn't see him at all that Christmas.  My 8th Christmas was spent on an Army base in Georgia, where it was sunny and 75 degrees...we even turned on the air conditioner.  My dad was there, but the climate didn't make it seem very Christmas-y.

 

Probably the most dramatic Christmas I had was when I was 9.  My dad had been deployed to Saudi Arabia for Operation Desert Shield (which morphed into Desert Storm).  Their company left on December 1st.  So, instead of having warm, cheerful, carefree holiday fun, I stood in a blindingly bright, stark gym and hugged my daddy goodbye.  Instead of cute holiday crafting, I attended company support group meetings with my mom and the other families that were left behind where we put together care packages for our loved ones.  The only ribbons that we tied that Christmas were yellow.

 

My mom was so depressed the year that my dad was deployed that we didn't even set up a tree.  We had one of those 12 inch tall ceramic lamps that was shaped like a Christmas tree...the presents went under that.  To ensure that we didn't spend Christmas alone, a wealthy, middle aged couple (that we barely knew) from our church invited us to stay at their house.  It was a glorious retreat.  It smelled like earthy firewood and I got to sleep in a feather bed for the first time in my life. 

 

After that year, my dad retired from the military and he was always around at Christmas.  But after so many years of being away from our extended family and having to adapt differently to all of the Christmas curveballs that were thrown at us, our Christmases were still always changing.  One year we spent Christmas with our extended family, another year we had my grandma over to our house, some years just the four of us celebrated together.  I even spent two Christmases in Florida with my parents when they had a midlife crisis and moved south. 

 

These are some of my Christmas memories.  While there is sadness held within these experiences, there was also life, laughter, and togetherness that bonded me to my family.  This traditional American culture of Christmas is not my reality.  My exposure to this time of year is a little more gritty and untidy.  So, to honor my understanding of the Christmas holiday, I am going to observe it the way I want to. I will choose not to acknowledge the outside pressures of how things "should" be at Christmas, but instead, select the traditions that are most meaningful to me and to my family and discard the ones that I find to be tedious, absurd, and extraneous.  (I will write another post that will outline this attitude more specifically)  It is my hope that, by being true to my history, some my emotional hostility toward all things Christmas will, at least partially, dissipate. 



Tis The Season To Be Anxious

My anxiety/depression is VERY cyclical.  I can almost predict what state of mind I will be battling against by the month of the year.  Well, it's Fall now and I have fallen headlong into my worst anxiety season.  It starts trickling in during September, ramps up in October then goes full force though November and the first few weeks of December. 

I first became aware of it when I was 25.  My husband and I had been married for a year and we were trying to get pregnant.  Suddenly, in September, I began to notice some strange symptoms.  I was having difficulty catching my breath.  Numbness and tingling began to present on the right side of my face.  My head felt weird, like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand.  One day at work, my lips went numb.   I rushed out of the classroom and called my doctor. 

After a series of tests, one Emergency Room visit, an appointment with both a neurologist and a seizure specialist, and a week long seizure study, it was concluded that I had...anxiety.  By the time that diagnosis came down, I was 6 weeks pregnant and could not start any medication.  So, I just chalked it up to some weird season of life anxiety and moved on with my life. 

Looking back now, I've had some version of anxiety since the summer before I started college.  For some reason, though (I'm guessing hormone changes), since that big flare up when I was 25, I've had pretty rough anxiety every fall since (for those of you who are wondering how old I might be...I'm 32 now...it's been SEVEN years). 

There is not really an impetus for my anxiety.  No strong stressors are present in my life right now, though there is probably some connection with the busyness and perceived pressure of the impending holiday season.  My most acute symptoms are physical rather than emotional.  So, generally, I think I am coping well until my body reminds me otherwise.

My symptoms are so frightening that, if I hadn't been through this countless times before, I would rush myself to the Emergency Room.  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.  All of these symptoms are listed as indications of dozens of life threatening medical conditions.  But, I've had nearly EVERY system in my body scanned, tested, and imaged.  My organs and systems are running just fine.  It's all in my brain chemistry. 

While I am on A medication, I'm not sure it's the RIGHT medication for my anxiety (it helps IMMENSELY with my depression).  I'm not ready to mess with a psychiatrist, which is what the next step would be if I needed to combine or switch meds.  So, in order to address this wretched season of panic, I have to make a plan and stick with it.

Here are some strategies I have/plan to put in place to address my body's rebellion:

• Limit sugar.  The holidays come at the WORST possible time for me.  It's sort of a chicken or egg situation.  Does my anxiety flare up because of my diet?  Is my anxiety already at it's peak and the diet just worsens it?  I don't know.  What I do know is that I've eaten FAR too much Halloween candy over the last week.  It's not healthy for my body...it's not good for my anxiety.
• Limit commitments.  The holiday season is hard.  I'm already fragile for several reasons then we add the hustle and bustle that occurs between Thanksgiving and New Year (my husband's extended family pushes their Christmas festivities until the weekend after Christmas).  I am deciding this year that I will not take on any hosting duties, extra projects, or volunteer activities during this time.  I know it's supposed to be the season of selflessness, but I can't give my time like I wish I could.  I have a mental illness and pretending that I can do it all isn't going to help anyone.
• Chill out.  I'm letting some stuff slide this Holiday season.  My sister and I came up with a plan to streamline holiday gift giving, which I am choosing to take on a little at a time.  I'm doing minimal holiday decorating.  Christmas card photo appointments will go on the books in the next few days, and we are wearing clothing we already own...it'll be coordinated enough. 
• No RUMINATING!  I will commit to NOT rehearse holiday interactions in my mind.  Taking events as they come will be my best strategy for coping with my anxiety this holiday season.  Nothing turns out the way we plan and spending mental energy on what ifs literally makes me crazy.

It will still be challenging, it always is.  But I can use the tools I have in my mental health toolbox to lessen the impact that this illness has on my life and relationships. 

Rumination

"Rumination is a process that involves deeply reflecting on a situation. When rumination becomes difficult to control, it can lead to negative psychological effects including depression and phobias (Note: also anxiety). The inability to stop ruminating on a particular thought is a hallmark of obsession." ~http://phobias.about.com/od/introductiontophobias/g/ruminationdef.htm

So many times on this blog I have shared that I have trouble with obsessive thoughts.  Well, a quick Google search (cause that's how I roll) brought up an entire facet of my illness that I thought was just a personality quirk.  Apparently, it's not normal to replay your failures over and over in your head.  Who knew?  Certainly not me.  I've always thought that there was something to be gleaned from running over a situation obsessively...not that there was any evidence of that. 

Even though it has not been my "training", I still have this sneaking feeling that God is mad at me every time I screw up.  I feel like everyone else has more self control, or is cooler under pressure, or quieter in a crowd, or able to resist anything which has Nutella in/on it.  So, when I inevitably fail, that failure hits me on a mental, physical, and spiritual level.  Then, because of my imbalances and habits, I keep asking it to punch me again, because this time "I CAN TAKE IT!".  I can take the truth about how my loud mouthed, overly opinionated, weak willed self!!  Except...I can't.  I never will.  I wasn't meant to.

Here's where life gets tricky.  Self-reflection and repentance are tenets of my faith.  I am supposed to be aware of my shortcomings, present them to God, and turn away from them. My trouble is I just obsess about my own shortcomings and try to figure out ways to change or modify my behavior.  It's not my first (or second, or ninetieth) instinct to present my shortcomings to God. 

The shock and scandal of a pastor's "fall from grace" is always amusing to me.  No, I am not a sadist who enjoys the pain of others.  It's just that...all Christians are a big nasty mess, that's why we're in church.  Jesus called to our broken, alienated, dark and brooding hearts...and because His call is irresistible, we answered.  That's it.  He called...we answered.  He didn't send me on a quest to find forgiveness.  He didn't make me pass a test to gauge the purity of my heart.  He didn't ask me a riddle to check the soundness of my mind.  He just loved me... before I ever loved Him. 

But..sometimes when we get something of great value given to us we feel like we are indebted to the giver and ashamed that we can't give an equally valuable gift in return.  When I was an impoverished college student, my teenaged sister worked a TON and was very generous with her gifts.  Instead of just being grateful, I was kind of embarrassed that I sometimes had to rely on the generosity of a high school kid.  I didn't have anything to offer her.  So, every time she bought me something, I had a little twinge of shame. 

That's the issue that I have with confessing my failures to Jesus.  It's not that He's ever asked me to repay him or has made a snide remark about having to give me more mercy than that girl over there...He's never done those things.  The problem isn't with Jesus.  The problem is me.  If I am ever going to have freedom from the obsessive rumination of my failures...I have to just get over myself and trust that I have forgiveness and love in Jesus. 

Just like all the other junk I am sorting through this year, ruminating will be a tough habit to break.  I've done it since I was a kid.  My strategies are aimed at hitting rumination where it lives...my heart and mind.  I plan to continue with positive self talk (which includes Biblical truth).  Also, many of the articles I read suggest pure distraction.  While I don't always think that's the way to go, for my situation it's going to be helpful.  Having been a stay at home mom for so many years, I had the mental free time to allow obsessive thoughts to run wild.  Going to work has helped IMMENSELY with this issue.  I also plan to have hope.  Hope is often a casualty of rumination.  I get SO entrenched in the thoughts that I can't imagine that there is any shred of good in me.  Because I am in God's family, that is not true.  I'm a spotless bride in the eyes of God.  I want to live like that's true. 

Pregnacy Loss Awareness:What Are The Odds? (Repost From 2010)

NOTE: October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  Though October is riddled with "awareness", I am very thankful that someone thought to set aside a day to remember the children that we've lost...or in my case, the one I never met. 

Having a miscarriage is a devastating experience.  People offer you comfort, but unless they've lost a baby, they can't know the surreal, confusing, ache that is born when your child ISN'T.  Even after the event, life after miscarriage/infant loss continues to have twinges of pain and confusion.  Every August 20th, I find myself remembering the procedure to remove the baby from my womb.  He/she should have been born in late March.  I find myself thinking of my baby around that time.  I think about how old he/she would be now. 

Probably the weirdest thing is when people ask me how many children I have and my heart hurts as I say 2 (instead of 3).  In my heart I know I have THREE children...but it's unnecessary to go into that with strangers.  I've told my oldest son that he has a brother/sister that died in my tummy before his Little Brother was born...so whenever I call Little Brother my 2nd baby, Big Brother corrects me and says, "No mama, he's your 3rd baby."

The solace that I have when I think of that little one is that he/she is with Jesus.  He has named my child and knows him/her.  I will see that child when I go to be with God...and we will know one another.  That baby is in good hands.

I posted this is on Facebook when my youngest son was just a few weeks old.  Reading through it again, I am still moved by the amazing circumstances that helped bring some measure of healing as I celebrated a new baby and grieved the one I'd lost. 
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November 2010:
Today was baby dedication day at church.  It was a day filled with joy for me as I brought my new baby to church for the first time.  Though I had this little bundle in my arms I wept as the pastor mentioned that though we are celebrating these children it's important that we remember to walk with one another even in the pain of infertility and loss of a child.  My heart clinched in my chest as I reflected back on last year's baby dedication.

The Friday before last year's baby dedication I found out that the baby in my womb had stopped living 2 weeks before.  I was blindsided as I walked into church and heard that it was baby dedication day.  But, I belong to a God who knows me and cares for my heart.  By His grace I was honestly able to rejoice with those wonderful families that we had come to know over our first year at Redeemer.  I was grieving and experiencing deep and painful emotions from this loss.  Knowing my heart, God continued to care for me and showed me beautiful consideration over the next year.   His hand was so evident in every aspect of Baby Boy's conception, pregnancy and birth that I kept finding myself saying "what are the odds?".

What are the odds that:

The very day I had my scheduled yearly visit with my OBGYN I would have an implantation dip on my BBT chart (a family planning technique)...a biological sign that conception has occurred.

She would prescribe me progesterone for luteal phase defect during that visit...and this medicine would get me through my first trimester as my progesterone levels were low...the same cause of my previous miscarriage.

For my anxiety ridden 6 week sonogram, I would have the same technician who had to give me the news that my last baby was no longer living...who now joyfully told me we had a heartbeat...a technician I never saw outside of those two circumstances.

The Lord would change my mind from having a 40 week induction to a 41st week induction...which allowed for some phenomenal time with Big Boy as I enjoyed an unexplained burst of energy my last week of pregnancy.

On the Sunday before my induction, my pastor's wife would have her baby 2 weeks early causing a fill in preacher to preach a wonderfully healing message about all things working together for the good of those who love the Lord...a sermon where he spent considerable time talking about finding hope in God through death and miscarriage...and how sometimes God will show His purpose and sometimes He won't...but He always has a purpose.

My OB would be out of town at the end of  my 41st week resulting in my having to deliver at a different hospital... the hospital that I could not bear to drive by as it reminded me of the surgery I had there that removed my lost baby from my womb...the hospital where I could now happily associate a wonderful, healthy birth.

And today would be another baby dedication...a once a year event...last year it was in August...this year it just HAPPENS to be the day we are ready for the baby to venture out to church.

I would say the odds of these things just randomly happening by circumstance are fairly low.  No, instead I see all of these things as carefully orchestrated events that God brought into my life to promote healing and increase my love and devotion for Him.  What a kind and loving God to know my heart and the pain and confusion inside of it.  What a powerful God to allow me to literally see how connected moments of life can be . 

Today I worshiped the God who not only gave His own son in order that I might be able to be in a relationship with Him, but is an active and caring participant in that relationship.
He loves me, and I know it.  He doesn't have to show me anything or reveal His work in my life, but this time He did and I am so thankful.

An Object At Rest

The most acute symptom of Adrenal Fatigue is well...fatigue.  Fatigue is different than tiredness.  It’s an all-consuming, never ending, constant exhaustion.  It almost feels like my body is a black hole that feeds on energy.  Often, my arms and legs feel like they are full of lead and I can’t keep my eyes open.  My muscles ache and my mind is foggy.

A full night’s sleep is rare.  I usually wake up at least once a night to go to the bathroom, or because my hips hurt, or to take care of my 2.5 year who is still night waking on a regular basis.  Even when I CAN get a good night sleep, it often doesn’t help.  I still wake up tired and stay tired all day. 

 My naturopathic doctor “prescribed” naps for me, but that doesn’t always work for a couple of reasons.  First, my days are either spent working as a substitute teacher or caring for my home and preschool aged son.  Napping at work is frowned upon and my preschooler’s nap schedule is spotty at best.  The few times I’ve tried to nap while he stays awake at “rest time” have ended with him creating gross messes. 

Secondly, some days I just have stuff to do.  The dishes don’t wash themselves.  The laundry doesn’t put itself away.  I sometimes need to shop online for things I don’t have time to go get in person.  Though I am tired, I can power through enough to make it until bed time.  Do I enjoy cleaning my house when I feel like I am walking through knee-deep mud?  No, no I do not.  Is it necessary some days to do it anyway? Yes.

Lastly, I feel guilty for napping every day.  I feel like a pampered, lazy, whiner who can’t hack grown up life.  While those things are (mostly) untrue, I still have that message at the back of my mind.  Taking a nap instead of cleaning something makes me feel like I am wasting my day…frittering away valuable work time. 

Today I have a Great Wall sized pile of dishes, about 4 million loads of laundry to wash/dry/put away, and every room in my home is being plagued with clutter.  But, damn if I don’t need a nap right now.  I am SO exhausted…I just want to sleep.  I don’t even have the wherewithal to pry my tuchas out of this here chair.

This illness continues to throw out symptom after symptom and I am being forced by my body to take it seriously. I have a chronic illness.  Something is actually physically wrong with my body and creating a real and tangible fatigue.   If I am ever going to feel better, I need to get over myself and really taking resting seriously.  I need to rest my body and my mind and not worry about the things that need to be done.  They will get done.  And if they don’t they must not be that important.

 

It's EVERYTHING Awareness Month

Oh, October!  Crisp temperatures, warm cider, soft sweaters, boots, and Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  And National Coming Out Day (11th). And Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  And National Squirrel Awareness Month (completely true).  Here is a list of ALL of the awareness movements in October. 

My theory about why October is uber-awareness month has to do with cash flow.  I think that it's an easy month to raise money.  The weather is great for 5ks and marathons.  People haven't quite started tightening purse strings to prepare for Christmas shopping.  Additionally, people seem to feel really good at the beginning of fall...I imagine that effects their compassionate giving as well.

I don't think that all of the awareness days properly belong in October.  Case in point... Mental Illness Awareness Week.  It is supposed to be observed the first full week of October...the year it's the 6th-12th.  But, if I were to choose an awareness week it would be in January or February...when people statistically report feeling their emotional lowest.  Blue Monday (the 3rd Monday of January) is a new phenomenon whereby people report being the most depressed.

Although Blue Monday is decried as a pseudoscientific date, I would be willing to wager that a large amount of people who suffer from depression would admit that January and February are the hardest months.  I realize that depression is NOT the only mental illness...but it is often a SYMPTOM of many other mental illnesses.  Depression is listed as a symptom (or comorbid illness) of: bipolar disorder, anxiety, schizophrenia, PTSD, anorexia, bulimia, insomnia, addiction, substance abuse, autism spectrum disorders, sadistic personality disorder...and so on and so on.

But, here we are...it's October and next week is Mental Illness Awareness Week.  What are we going to do about it?  First, if you suspect that you have depression, October 10th is Depression Screening Day.  Get screened.  You already suspect it.  Get it checked out.  Here is a link to an online screening...you can also search the web to find screenings in your area.

Secondly, get informed.  Mental illness has lost a lot of its stigma in recent years, but there is still a lot of work to do.  Here is a fact sheet on the topic of mental illness.  Mental illness affects someone you love (statistically).  It's not just Crazy Aunt Marge The Stinky Cat Lady.  It's your mom, your uncle, your husband, your child, your coworkers, anyone. 

Finally, get HELP.  If YOU think you have a mental illness, tell a medical professional.  They will NOT think you are crazy (and if they do, get a different doctor).  A lot of mental illness are simple chemical imbalances that can be corrected or lessened by taking a tiny little pill (or sometimes even simple lifestyle changes).  If you have trauma that has contributed to your mental health trouble...go see a counselor.  They will NOT think you are crazy (and if you ARE crazy, don't you want someone to come alongside you and help you find your way back to sanity?).  Counselors, therapists, and psychiatrists are trained to help people with mental health problems.  They are FOR you. 

If you think (or know) that someone you love has a mental illness, don't hate them, don't fear them, don't think you can save them...just be in relationship with them.  These resources are available to you too.  Ask a counselor how to best care for your husband, wife, child, dad.  They have tons of coping strategies for you.  Google it.  Look for trustworthy sites that give information of living with a person who is mentally ill.  Get informed and figure out how to navigate through life with them. 

Mental Illness is a real thing that affects real people ( a LOT of people).  The more we can understand how our broken brains affect our lives, the more intentional we can be about addressing that brokenness.  Life will never be perfect.  Things in this world are not the way they are supposed to be.  But, with compassion, information, love, and grit, we can do our best to show God's kindness to our loved ones with mental illnesses.