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.