Mental Illness

I'm reluctant to write this blog, because of the stigma we place on mental health issues, but as with all of my life experiences, I feel like silence doesn't help anyone. 

As many of you know, I was diagnosed with PTSD, panic disorder and depression along with fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis & sleep apnea, a little over a year ago. I have spent the last year in counseling and under the care of numerous doctors. I am in a better place and can finally breathe again. 

With that said, the last year was hell and let's be honest, I checked out. I checked out of my marriage, school, friendships, but most importantly, I checked out of parenting. I simply couldn't cope with the everyday requirements of parenting two teenage daughters. Jasen took over what he could, but the rest got pushed aside. 

I am not passing judgement of myself, it simply is what it is. I did what I had to to survive and my kids got lost in the shuffle. I'm not the first or the last mom who's done this and quite frankly, if blame is to be placed, it would be on the people in my life who abused me emotionally, physically and sexually. A person can only take so much... 

Back to the issue at hand... 

The girls are both at difficult times in their lives. Meg is getting ready to graduate and go off to college. Kali is entering high school with all the social and educational stressors that involves. 

Because Meg is older and has a good network of support, she handled my checking out better than Kali. Meg was able to express her needs and learned when to ask for what she wanted. She also got a part-time job and a driver's license and quite frankly, hasn't needed me as much as her sister. 

Kali, on the other hand, needed me. She had her appendix out in May, along with several ovarian cysts and has had to have medication to help with hormone stuff. She's also had to navigate the social hell that was 8th grade and is now high school, without my words of wisdom. When she would start to talk about drama at school or girls that were bullies, I would check out, and we are now paying the consequences of my own 'checking out.'

Kali is creative, brilliant and beautiful, but she's also always had a tad of a dramatic side. This dramatic flare comes in handy for cheer, but is not especially useful in a house full of anxious people and a mother who is only here physically. After missing cheer tryouts, because of her appendix, we started to notice that she was floundering. 

Poor sleep habits, horrible diet choices, Netflix binging, mood swings, depression, self-chosen isolation and anxiety on top of her well documented ADHD made summer difficult and the start of school hell, this year. She's been struggling emotionally and educationally and once I woke up from my own depressive fog, I realized that she needed help. 

I took her in for a psych eval and another symptom was added to the list of symptoms that I had already noticed--suicidal thoughts, with a plan. The therapist, Jasen and I decided that an in house treatment plan would be best and she will stay, until they've figured out all the ins and outs of her specific mental health needs. 

Now here's the thing: When she sat in the hospital for 4 days, in excruciating pain, I posted frequently about her pains and her needs. She got cards and visits from her friends and it helped. But all of 10 people know where she is right now. Why is that? Why was it easier for me to post and ask for healing thought and prayers, when something wasn't quite right in her abdominal cavity, but I don't feel that I can do the same when the subject is mental health? Something about this isn't right. 

Kali will be fine and we will get her the care that she needs, but unless we break through the stigmas associated with mental health, she won't get the social support from loving family and friends that she also needs. If we don't aid our children in articulating their mental health needs, we create the perfect storm that has brought us to where Jasen, Meg, Kali and I are today. 

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day! I've gotten better at handling this day (read this as not laying in the fetal position sobbing all day). But, there are always a few tears shed. Last night, I looked at Jasen and asked why my mommies didn't love me enough.

And that's really what it boils down to... Each of my mothers would likely say they loved me... But in all honesty, they didn't love me enough. 

While my bio mom would likely say that she wanted to give me a better life, the truth is, she didn't love me enough to get her shit together and be a mom. I get it. Self-esteem and self-worth issues, health problems, likely some PTSD herself... I get it. I really do get it, but getting it does absolve her from the tears I cry every Mother's Day, because my mom didn't choose me. 

My adoptive mom did her best too. Her life didn't exactly go as she had planned either. She fed me, clothed me, paid a shit ton for my screwed up mouth and sat up with me night after night as I passed gallstones. She did all the 'things' a mother was supposed to do. She was the opposite of my bio mom. She was strong and independent, with a 'I will be right attitude' and a stubborn streak. I needed those traits modeled for me, but I also needed love, compassion and forgiveness. Traits she probably had, but showed very little of to the outside world. Had I not divorced my ex, it's likely that my adoptive mom and I would have continued a cycle of 'me doing everything I could to please, but it never being enough'!  But I did get a divorce and what is, simply is. The truth is, at the end of the day, she didn't love me enough to move past my choices. 

Every week, I sit in counseling and we process my life and try to get me back to a highly functioning individual again (PTSD can suck it). But, what I've realized during my weekly sessions, is that I did 'learn' things from each of my mothers and not all of it was bad. I am strong. I am independent. I am emotionally accessible to my kids and husband (ok, ok, this is a work in progress)! 

But most importantly, I've stopped the cycle that was started generations ago. My daughters don't sit in dressing rooms crying, because I called them thunder thighs or some equally body shaming term. They don't tremble in fear, that there will be some outburst of yelling, when they have to tell me negative news. They come to me when they are scared and hurting, instead of hiding. We laugh and we love and we have an honest relationship, because I've stopped the cycle. 

They will be different mothers than I am, but I hope that when (and if) they have children of their own, they will continue to break the cycle. I hope that they see this meme and think positive thoughts about me and that they never doubt my love. And I hope they never have to question if I love them enough... 

Grief

One of my closest friend’s mom died today. She was diagnosed with lung cancer only a few months ago. She had been a smoker, but had stopped over 20 years ago. She died, not from the cancer, but because of the chemo and the weakening immune system that comes along with trying to kill the cancer within her body. She lost her battle. She fought hard; she still lost the battle. She leaves behind my friend (her only child), she leaves behind her husband and she leaves behind hundreds of people whom she touched with her kindness and generosity. Even I am grieving her loss and I barely knew her. I know that my friend is strong enough to deal with the death of her mother. She has people around her that love her and will hold her up. I want to be there, but I can’t. I have responsibilities to attend to here in Denton. But it doesn't lessen the heartache I feel for my friend or my desire to throw some clothes on and drive to Abilene for the week.

As I sit here sobbing, I think of my husband, who smoked for 20 years and still uses a vaporizer to get his nicotine fix. I think of his grandmother who died from emphysema and probably COPD, although he says it was working in the tanning factory and not the smoking that caused it. Will I be standing beside a hospital bed 20 years from now watching him take his last breath?

I also sit here sobbing, because I miss my mom. Would I even know if she were in a hospital bed crying? Would anyone think to inform me? When she chose my ex-husband over me, I wonder if she considered these things… or was she just stuck on being right and nothing else mattered. I wonder if she thinks of me now. I think of her often, especially since the pending fibromyalgia diagnosis and the difficulties that has caused and there are days that I simply want my mom. I don’t know how to fix any of this, though. 

Sigh. 

Class

Last night, in the Family Violence course that I'm taking, we spent the last 30 minutes talking about protective orders and the atrocities the women in the study had experienced before they filed for a protective order. That was the longest 30 minutes of my life.

I came home from class and cried. I cried when I went to bed. I've cried 3 times today. I'm a mess. I'm not surprised, but I had hoped I would be stronger than this. I had hoped that my YEARS of counseling would protect me from the flashbacks and the fear. It hasn't worked.

I'm the little girl in the corner, naked and afraid, while my Mom's boyfriend prepares the plywood paddle to beat me with, all over again. I'm the teenage girl being pulled out of my shower by my hair, because I snuck a boy into the house (even though nothing happened with the boy) all over again. I'm the wife watching as my husband throws a lamp at the wall above the crib, where my infant sleeps, all over again. I'm the victim. All. Over. Again.

I have isolated myself from each of the above people. I do not see them. I do not talk to them. I don't not think of them, much. But in a 30 minute lecture, all of the hard work I've done to be strong and move on was undone.

No amount of counseling, self-help literature, prayer or meditation can undo the damage those people did to me. I'm broken. I will likely always be broken. I get it. I don't like it, but I get it. I am an example of why family violence intervention is important. I am an example of what happens when the system doesn't intervene. But mostly, I'm an example of what happens when families keep secrets.

Three more weeks of class... I can do this.



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Jezebel

My favorite name has always been Jezebel. Always. Today, Jasen & I were discussing what exactly made Jezebel such an awful person and for the life of me, I couldn't remember.

So. I googled. I came across this article: http://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/people-cultures-in-the-bible/people-in-the-bible/how-bad-was-jezebel/

The article is long, but it gives a pretty darn good analysis of what the authors' of Jezebel's story were really trying to do with the telling of her story. They also give a slightly different, more historical, version of her story.

The conclusion says this: In a kinder analysis, Jezebel emerges as a fiery and determined person, with an intensity matched only by Elijah’s. She is true to her native religion and customs. She is even more loyal to her husband. Throughout her reign, she boldly exercises what power she has. And in the end, having lived her life on her own terms, Jezebel faces certain death with dignity.

Hmmm... She sounds pretty awesome to me. Funny how stepping back from the faith I was indoctrinated into, allows for a deeper understanding of truth and history. I will continue to love the name & feel a somewhat kindred spirit to Jezebel.


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Marriage Advice

I ran across this article in my friend's feed today http://www.lifebuzz.com/happy-couples/#!XJDrJ it's probably the first article with marriage advice that I actually agree with. But the most important rule, in my opinion, is #1: Go to bed at the same time.

Both my husband and I are on marriage number 2. In our first marriages, neither of us followed this rule. Not to say that not going to bed at the same time ruined our first marriages, but it certainly contributed to the issues, especially in my first marriage. It created distance that allowed room for addictions to creep in. Had we gone to bed at the same time, it's likely those addictions wouldn't have started.

I realize that life happens & going to bed at the same time 7 days a week may be impossible, but I've noticed several 'things' that start to happen when couples don't go to bed at the same time.

1. There's less sex. Yes, I know marriage isn't all about sex & sex doesn't only occur at bedtime, but let's be realistic. Going to bed together increases the likelihood of cuddling & in my world, that usually leads to sex.

2. The likelihood of being on the same sleep schedule decreases. If one partner is in bed at 9pm & awake at 6am and the other person is in bed at midnight & awake at 9am, that makes for 6 hours of distance. While some of you make look at that time apart & be relieved, I look at it and get sad. Now don't get me wrong, I loathe mornings and often stay in bed until Jasen tells me the coffee is ready, but overall we try to stay on the same schedule. During plant season, if I don't get up & drink coffee with him at 5am, I won't see him for an entire day.

3. Creates opportunities for a negative atmosphere. I promise you that few woman likes to stay up late cleaning or get the children off to school alone in the morning. Being in a partnership means being partners in everything. Including housework & parenting, and both parents should work together to make a family work.

I know that relationships look different for everyone. I know that this advice or any marital advice may not fit everyone's lifestyle. I also know that my marriage is a happier place when we start & end our days together.


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God's plan..

I process by writing. So today, I will write about gun violence, radiation exposure and God, because I need to process the sadness that I feel when I turn on the news or when I pick up my class reading. I am writing this for myself. These are my opinions. These are my thoughts. These subjects are touchy. If you do not agree with me, please just walk away.

We are on our 74thschool shooting, as of yesterday. Our solution to these school shootings is to create bullet proof blankets to keep our children safe, instead of getting to the bottom of why we keep having school shootings.  Our mental health system needs to be reworked, yes, but so do our gun laws and more importantly, so do our opinions about guns and our dependence on guns.

I cannot wrap my brain around the fact that most of the people who are so determined to keep their guns are the same people you see in church on Sunday mornings. I feel like these two things do not go together. The church rhetoric of “God has a plan,” “our days are numbered and only God knows,” “everything happens for a reason” and “turn the other cheek” run contrary to “let’s carry AK-47’s to restaurants, because we can.” I can’t be the only one who feels this way. I just can’t be.

When bad things happen and guns are involved, we see people scrambling and I hear that same rhetoric “God has a plan and it’s not our job to know his plan.” Um… ok… You go with that answer, but I am quite skeptical that all of this is God’s plan. Instead, I think these deaths are the consequences of our own stupidity and dependence on violence and have little to nothing to do with God. Or maybe a lot to do with God, because if we trusted God, if we believed in his love and protection and all the rhetoric from above, can we really say we need to carry around assault rifles?

I am in the process of reading a book about the radiation exposure that people in Colorado experienced, because of the Rocky Flats Plant that made plutonium triggers for bombs from the 70’s to the 90’s. In one section, a man’s daughter dies from a tumor. His response? Well, God has a plan. Children with testicular cancer, God has a plan. Dead animals, crops that won’t grow, God has a plan.

Ok people… yes, God has a plan (if that’s what you want to believe), but what if God’s plan is for you to wake the heck up and ask questions? What if God’s plan is for you to stand up and do what you know is right and make some changes with gun control? What if God’s plan is to be better stewards of our environment? What if God’s plan is for us to lay down our arms, because that is the BEST WAY TO PROTECT OUR CHILDREN?

Sigh.