My Light in the Darkness

I haven't written about depression in awhile. There are several reasons for this.

Last fall, over a year ago, a friend came to me to offer comfort after a series of my frustrated Facebook posts about various things. And my pride got the better of me. I wanted people to see that my life is positive, too, and that there are lots of good things in my days.

But the flip side of that is that I stopped posting entirely about my struggles. On some days, that's a good thing, because it doesn't help to dwell on the hard things. On some days, that's a bad thing because my friends don't see that someone else they love struggles with things, too. People don't know that someone they know and love is in the process of overcoming something difficult, and that's a very isolating feeling. Does that make any sense? Nobody should ever feel alone.

The other reason I haven't talked depression in awhile is that it doesn't feel like the biggest struggle in my life right now. When I look at things in detail, it probably really is the biggest struggle, but it doesn't manifest itself like it used to, and I've learned some really awesome coping skills.

My depression still really is with me all the time. On some level, my body and my mind and my heart know this. At my physical this week, my doctor suggested that maybe we could try lowering my medication dose. My immediate reaction was, "Noooooooo!" I like being happy. I like loving life even through the hard times. I like knowing that hard things can be managed. And I know that without my medication--because I've tried it--those things aren't my reality.

But I also realized that one of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon has become one of my realities. In the book of Mosiah, a prophet named Alma and his people find themselves in bondage to another people. So I don't feel like my bondage is to another people; I feel like my bondage is to the whacked-out chemicals in my brain. Think of that as you read these verses.

13 And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.

 14 And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

 15 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord. (Mosiah 24:13-15)

I don't think that I've been delivered from my "bondage" of depression (yet! because I firmly believe it will come eventually), but I do feel that over the last 6-7 years especially the Lord has made my burden seem light, that sometimes I cannot even feel the burden of depression on my shoulders, even though from time to time I am reminded that it is still there. He has strengthened me to bear this burden--taught me coping skills, led me to medication, surrounded me with people who love me and encourage me and support me.

So, when I saw on my #LIGHTtheWORLD advent calendar that today was about helping other people to see, I immediately thought of what I needed to see in the darkness that was my world, of what the Savior and my Heavenly Father helped me to see in that terrible darkness of depression.

I don't want people to think my life is perfect. I don't want people to think my life is miserable. I want people to know that I have struggles but my God is helping me to overcome them through many small and simple means, and that through that, I have great joy which once I never thought possible.

On Parenting Young Adults

I sort of ruined my own day by daring to respond to someone's post on Facebook about college students and adjusting and mental health. What was I thinking?

My rational brain kept telling me that this stranger was speaking to me the way she was out of fear resulting from some of her family's experiences, but it was all I could do not to defend myself. And even when I backed down and attempted to be conciliatory, it was too late. She was pretty upset.

I really struggle with situations like that. It's the second time something like that has happened to me in the last several months.

One of the things I like most about myself is that I generally attempt to be nice to everyone, and almost always, it has impressive results...meaning we can all get along and everything is beautiful, even when we don't agree.

But that very niceness is an internal struggle for me sometimes. I'm too nice to keep an argument going when it's obviously upsetting to someone, so for the most part, all the things running through my head remain unsaid. Most days this is a bonus. Some days it leaves me feeling very frustrated.

Having whined about all that, now I'm going to be grateful for what my part in the "discussion" was about.

I am grateful that Hannah opted to go away to college. I am grateful that she tried new things and started learning "to adult." That adulting thing is hard for sure, and some of it she kind of had to be pushed into.

I am grateful that she struggled. I hated--hated--watching her struggle. I hated watching her learning to deal with loneliness and fear and fatigue and unclear and uncertain choices more or less on her own. It was hard to watch her make choices that I didn't think would ultimately result in her happiness (fortunately, these choices for her were relatively minor and reversible). It was hard to wait for her to make healthy choices and seek her own happiness.

But she is doing it! And I have loved watching her stretch and grow and find passions. I have loved watching her come into her own confidence. I love knowing that she's getting better and better at this adulting thing, and especially at finding herself and finding strength in who she is and what she is capable of becoming.

One of the most valuable gifts my parents have given me is the knowledge that ultimately we are raising children to learn, seek, and find their own independence. I'm pretty sure my parents hated the application of that for me as a young adult, but they did it. Over my adolescence, they more and more allowed me to make my own choices and to become an adult and to stretch and grow. I admire them for selflessly doing something so difficult so that I could progress.

I also admire them for giving me options, for stepping in to give me those options, especially when my mental health was at stake. That's how you parent. It's a pretty fine line to walk, I think, to want to keep your child safely cushioned from life's hard knocks, all the while knowing that without a few hard knocks, it will be very difficult for them to fully appreciate the moments of joy. It's a fine line to walk to know that they must make choices for themselves, however painful the consequences. Hallelujah if they ask for your counsel! And the agony when they don't ask or they don't listen!

So as parents, even though it's really hard, we are doing our best to let our kids grow into themselves as adults. Sometimes we utterly fail at this. Some days are better than others. But I love the moments that come when they find joy and confidence and victory, whether small or large.

Anyway, my comments aren't entirely based upon the other woman's remarks to me. And she made some great and very true points about mental health, which of course you have no idea what I'm talking about. But. This has been on my mind all afternoon. I want to remember my reasons for not helicoptering my kids to death.

Be Still, My Soul

Be Still, My Soul

1. Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side;

With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.

Leave to thy God to order and provide;

In ev’ry change he faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heav’nly Friend

Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

2. Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake

To guide the future as he has the past.

Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;

All now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know

His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

3. Be still, my soul: The hour is hast’ning on

When we shall be forever with the Lord,

When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.

Be still, my soul: When change and tears are past,

All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Text: Katharina von Schlegel, b. 1697; trans. by Jane Borthwick, 1813–1897

There's a great version of this on YouTube.  The 2nd verse is a little different, and I prefer the verse above.  But this is still a beautiful rendition by Libera, the boys choir from the UK.

This is one of the songs that, on a dark night, I found myself humming, not knowing the words.  After I'd hummed it repeatedly for about an hour, it occurred to me to find my hymnbook and look up the lyrics.  It really spoke to me about how my depression was my personal "cross of grief or pain," about how the Lord was my best and heavenly friend, and how the way out was through Christ--the thorny way just like the thorns He wore upon His head as He worked out the Atonement.  It was the first time I understood that Christ's Atonement isn't just the cure for our sins but for all of the things that ail us.

The second verse was personal for me as well, since I was going through an intense period of asking Why?  Why did my own brain and body betray me?  Why was this my challenge in life?  Why couldn't I just be happy like everybody else?  The funny thing about my depression was that I knew I "should" be happy with my life, but I couldn't make myself do it.  This verse taught me to trust that God has a plan for me, even though I don't know what it is, and someday "All now mysterious shall be bright at last."  Sometimes trusting in God's plan means not getting hung up on the whys, and for me, this was one of those times.  I don't ask why very often anymore.  It just is.  It's part of Heavenly Father's plan, and I trust that He is smarter than I.

The third verse seals that assurance for me.  "When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,/Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored."  Often with depression, it feels like disappointment, grief, fear, sorrow are larger than life, impossibly difficult to deal with, and happier emotions are dim and hard to imagine, let alone experience.  I love that phrase--"love's purest joys restored"--I'm banking on that.  I know that already many of my joys have been restored to me, but in the dark moments, this is a promise for the future that I hold onto.

Each person's cross is different.  And sometimes the cross we have to bear at one time in our life is different than our cross at another time in life.  What I know is that this hymn at one time taught me to hope, and it taught me that Heavenly Father sent His love to me when I needed it most.  When I need to take a deep breath, and find that still, quiet place in my heart, this is my go-to song.  Hope it brings you some peace, too.

Things Are Gonna Get Better

Living with bouts of depression isn't always easy.  I think that's pretty self-explanatory.



BUT the good news is: now that I know what I'm dealing with and that I have a treatment plan, it's a lot easier to cope with the bad days.  Sometimes I can even predict and plan for and minimize a bad day, which is useful to say the least.  Sometimes I forget that I know a bad day is coming.  Those are the worst days for me anymore.  But they are still better than before we knew what was going on, because I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that this is a passing moment.  I just gotta keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Even more good news is that my Father in Heaven is looking out for me, even when I'm not looking out for myself.  A lot of time He communicates His love for me and His reassurances through music.  It could be church music, it could be something on the radio, it's even been listening to one of my girls sing to herself before, or reading the lyrics to a song in the hymnbook or on the web.  Occasionally, when I'm feeling down, I get a prompting to listen to a song that helps, or I realize I'm humming a hymn and when I think about the words, they are exactly what I need to hear.

Three days ago, Caleb put a David Archuleta CD on in my truck.  I was a bit exasperated because he's really obsessed with this CD right now, and between that and Sariah's Beauty and the Beast craving, I haven't really been listening to everything I want to while I'm out taxiing about.  Plus, Lizzi's addicted to one song on the David Archuleta CD, so we listen to it a lot (it's a fun song, which is why I tolerate the repeats, lol!).

This morning, I found myself really grateful that Caleb put this CD in.  After a sick day yesterday (because I drank orange juice with acid in it, even though I totally know better) and a really rough emotional morning running circles in my own head, this song was just starting when I turned the truck on.  I don't know how many times I've listened to it before, but today...today it was for me, and that makes all the difference.  I will remember it every time I hear the song now, and the darkness that is my depression takes one more permanent step backwards.  Slowly but surely, right?

In case you are interested, here are the lyrics:
Yeah, Yeah,

Mmmmm

Everybody’s got a time in their life
When everything hurts and nothing’s right
But you gotta walk on
Yeah, you gotta walk on

Everybody’s got a piece of their heart
That’s been stepped on and torn apart
But you gotta be strong
Yeah, you gotta walk on

‘Cause I know it’s hard to have the strength
And sometimes you can’t get through the day
But things just float on by like a river in the night

But I know things are gonna get better
And I know things are gonna be fine
And I know life is gonna get better
Standing here together
Yeah, we’re gonna be fine

Everybody’s got that one regret
No matter how they try, they can’t forget
But you gotta move on
Yeah, you gotta move on
Everybody’s got someone they’ve lost
And they can’t believe they’re really gone
But you gotta live on
Yeah, you gotta live on

‘Cause I know it’s hard to have the strength
And sometimes all you feel is pain
But time keeps floating by on that river in the night

But I know things are gonna get better
I know things are gonna be fine
And I know life is gonna get better
Standing here together
Yeah, we’re gonna be fine

And I’ve been shown hope
I see it in your eyes
So take me and touch me
‘Cause with a little bit of love
We can win the fight
With a little bit of love
We can see the light
With a little bit of love
It’ll be all right

I know things are gonna get better
And I know things are gonna be fine
And I know life is gonna get better
Standing here together
Yeah, we’re gonna be fine

Walk, walk, walk on by
Keep, keep, keep walking on
Keep, keep, keep walking on

In Which I Reverse My Position

So after I vented all that hot air here on my blog yesterday, I sent myself off to complete the unfinished shopping.  Well.  Actually Bob sent me off.  And before that I walked the dogs.  A nice long walk that really did make me feel better.  But only slightly.  I took a nap somewhere in there, too.  That helped.  Sleep is always good.  I was still a really big, tearful grump.

One of the problems with having a chronic mental condition, like depression, is that it can be hard to determine if you are having a really bad day, or if you are hormonally ...erm... compromised, or if you really are heading into a downward slide.  Or maybe it's a combination of all three.  Which is the pits.  And which is probably what happened to me yesterday.

However, somewhere in my miserable Saturday, I recalled these words from President Gordon B. Hinckley, prophet and leader of our church for many years:

The most effective medicine for the sickness of self-pity is to lose ourselves in the service of others.  (From “Whosoever Will Save His Life,” Ensign, Aug. 1982, 5.)

Okay, so really I didn't recall those exact words.  I kinda remembered the gist of it.  And honestly, I remembered it with a little bit of a mental groan.  I mean, I really love that quote, but I really don't.  It requires so much of you.  And imagine!--when I go hunting for the quote, it comes worded like that.  (You can find the article here.)  At that point, I felt it fair to assume that this might be a little nudge from the still, small voice, otherwise known as the Holy Ghost.  Oh dear.  Probably shouldn't be avoiding those types of promptings.

Especially since President Hinckley also acknowledges that this was really the Savior Jesus Christ's message first and foremost:

My plea is—if we want joy in our hearts, if we want the Spirit of the Lord in our lives, let us forget ourselves and reach out. Let us put in the background our own personal, selfish interests and reach out in service to others. In so doing, we will find the truth of the Master’s great promise of glad tidings:

“Whosoever will save his life, shall lose it; or whosoever will save his life, shall be willing to lay it down for my sake; and if he is not willing to lay it down for my sake, he shall lose it.

“But whosoever shall be willing to lose his life for my sake, and the gospel, the same shall save it”....  (From “Whosoever Will Save His Life,” 6.)

I mentioned that I don't always like this quote.  Sometimes, when I am in the depths of my serotonin-starved despair, the thought of reaching out in service to others is a painful, insurmountable non-option.  Seriously, it's the nature of depression to devolve inward on oneself and not know how to snap out of that.

But yesterday, those words happened to be like a life preserver for a drowning person: me.

Which is how, today, I ended up making dinner for a woman who was recently released from the hospital after a bout of pneumonia.  And how I ended up having the missionaries over for dinner somewhat unexpectedly, since their dinner calendar had been empty for some time.  I spent a bunch of time in the kitchen, using up all those nice, shiny, new ingredients from my grocery trip, attacking them with knives and fire...oh wait, oh yeah, I was doing acts of service for others.  Yeah, yeah.

You know what, though?  I really do feel better.  It could be because I cleaned up the hazardous kitchen counters along with the rest of the Home Cave, so that I could have a house that would pass inspection for cooking for others, as well as guests in my home sweet home.

But I'm leaning more toward the idea that following that prompting was the way that the Lord could help me out this time.  He's like that, and that's why I love Him.

Boring ... but then again ...

My days here have taken on a boring predictability that includes walking the dogs, changing diapers, cleaning up the apartment (again), grocery shopping, and making ourselves residents of Georgia.

I surrendered my Oklahoma driver's license on Friday.  It made me sad.  Especially after I saw the picture on my new license.  Lol!  On the up side, I was only in the department of driver services about 30 minutes with 2 small children.  Sam was apparently the entertainment of the day, running back and forth and creating mayhem, but he was too cute for anyone to get mad at.  Thankfully.

I joined Weight Watchers on Friday.  Again.  I am seriously committed this time, since I am having to take out of my grocery budget to pay for this.  I am excited to try the new program--I think it's more nutritionally accurate, in light of all the information that's come out in the last several years.  And after 5 days, I am now aware that I have been eating terribly in regards to quality and quantity.  Unfortunately, only 4 year olds have slimmed off trudging up and down the hill to the bus stop daily.  Oh to be younger!  I had a friend once tell me that once you hit about 30, it became much harder to keep weight off.  She was right.  I'm sure giving birth to 5 kids doesn't help much either.

We had a really great Family Home Evening last night about how during Christ's ministry, He not only went about preaching and teaching, but healing those around Him.  We are focusing in our FHEs more on the Savior's ministry.  We frequently tell our children to be like Jesus Christ, but I want to make sure we are teaching them what He was like.  We talked a lot about how to be like Christ in this aspect of healing--how our words and are actions should soothe and comfort others.  I used an article from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.  You can find the article here.

My favorite part came from the end of the article where the Atonement of Christ was addressed.  As much as we help and serve others, we are only to be instruments in His hands, and we are still ever-dependent on Jesus Christ for all that we are and have.  For someone who has been through some dark times in her life--both those caused by sin & error as well as those caused by a physical & emotional affliction of the mind--Elder Holland's words really found a place in my heart:

In spite of life’s tribulations, there is help for all of us on this journey. When Christ bids us to yield, to submit, to obey the Father, He knows how to help us do that. He has walked that way, asking us to do what He has done, but He has made it very much easier for our travel. He knows where the sharp stones and the stumbling blocks lie and where the thorns and the thistles are the most severe. He knows where the path is perilous, and He knows which way to go when the road forks and nightfall comes. He knows that because He has suffered “pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind … that he may know … how to succor his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:11–12). To succor means “to run to.” I testify that Christ will run to us, and is running even now, if we will but receive the extended arm of His mercy.

When we stagger or stumble, He is there to steady and strengthen us. In the end He is there to save us, and for all this He gave His life. However dim our days may seem, they have been a lot darker for the Savior of the world. As a reminder of those days, Jesus has chosen, even in a resurrected, otherwise perfected body, to retain for the benefit of His disciples the wounds in His hands and in His feet and in His side—signs, if you will, that painful things happen even to the pure and the perfect; signs, if you will, that pain in this world is not evidence that God doesn’t love you; signs, if you will, that problems pass and happiness can be ours. Remind others that it is the wounded Christ who is the Captain of our souls, He who yet bears the scars of our forgiveness, the lesions of His love and humility, the torn flesh of obedience and sacrifice.

There really isn't anything that needs to be added to that.  :)

First Day Trauma Is for Babies ... and a Topic Hop

Apparently, I am the only one traumatized by the first day of school in a new place.  That's good news, right?

Well, emotional trauma anyway.  Rex came home from the 3rd grade with a real blue ribbon of a black eye.  He says someone ran into him.  Time to email the teacher?  I think so.  They supposedly tried to call me, which is probably true, but--oh my heavens, are we back to my phone service again?!?!

Everybody made it where they were supposed to and back again.  Everybody made it home with homework and more papers for me to fill out with information that I don't have...you know, like a local phone number or emergency contacts that don't live 5 states away.  Details!

If only I can find a preK for The Diva.

And in other news, you know what really fascinates me here?  After it rains on a day that's been hot, it's generally nice and cool (so far).  But the asphalt in the parking lot steams.  Dorky me, I kept looking for the source of the smoke at first.  It took me a little while, but I finally figured it out, and now it fascinates me.  I'd never seen that before.  Crazy!

Hannah started seminary today. An hour of scripture study in the morning, kinda like another high school course, before school starts with a bunch of other LDS teens.  They are digging right in with the Old Testament.  I should probably brush up...guess I have time on my hands right now.  :)

Yes, today is a better day.  Some days are harder than others, especially when your brain can't seem to produce the right amounts of the right chemicals.  And I heard moving was 3rd on the list of traumatic things to do with your life (preceding were the death of a loved one and divorce).  Anyhow, I've got my smile on again (the real deal, not a pasted on one), so all is well.

Hugs to all!

Why I Tell

Several people have asked me why I am so open about my mental illness.  Some people ask me out of genuine curiosity.  Some ask me for my own protection.  Some don't ask at all; they just look at me funny.  You know, like I'm ... crazy.

When we first had a name for what was going on (the big D, Depression), I did not want to tell people for several reasons.  One, there is still a stigma out there that people with mental illnesses are whack jobs.  Two, my very own brain had betrayed me by failing to work the way it should.  I wanted to be happy, but my traitor brain chemicals prevented me from doing so, no matter how flippin' hard I tried.  And believe me, I tried.  What a miserable, imperfect failure I was, and I didn't need people knowing the extent of that.  And three, taking head meds is "bad."  Bad, bad, bad.  Meds are even worse than having a therapist/shrink/whatever.  You don't need medicine to snap out of it and choose to be happy.  Get your chin up, your head outta the sand, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, suck it up, everybody's gotta deal with it.  Read your scriptures and pray; that'll heal you.  Or so "They" say, on and on and on.  Just imagine if you had a heart attack or an asthma attack, and as you were gasping for breath, "They" told you to suck it up and will it away!  Gee, that sure is helpful.  Not.  I didn't want to go in for that sort of punishment, especially since I was already pretty good at berating myself for things I couldn't control.

However, the longer I stayed on my meds, the more I realized how sick I had actually been.  No, I sure didn't think, "I want to kill myself."  But I did think, "My kids would be better off without me."  I wasn't as severely ill as some people can be; I still got out of bed everyday and fed myself and my kids.  That was probably all I did, but I did do that.  I cried all the time.  And when I got angry, I felt like a blood vessel in my head was going to burst.  Or 9 or 10.  If I were my husband (which, fortunately for me, I am not), I would have divorced me.  I know my children avoided me at times, and they were far too young to be avoiding their mommy.

It was hell on earth.  My own personal hell that spread out and cast shadows on everyone around me.  And I didn't even know I was in it, and that everyone else dear to me was in it with me.

So, when I began taking medication and started to step back into the light, it felt so wonderful and warm and beautiful.  I felt so loved.  That's when I realized that Heavenly Father had certainly heard my prayers and answered them ... it just took me awhile to figure out what the answer was.  My medicine is my miracle.  I don't know that medicine is for everyone, but it's what works for me and my family.  Over time, I have added in other elements, ranging from supplements to managing my personal habits.  The most important thing is that I have sought treatment and healing, and have been able to reclaim my life the way I want to live it: joyfully.

No one should walk through that valley and feel so very, very alone.  It's lonely to feel hopeless and helpless. It's distressing disturbing despairing devastating to know at some level that you are the missing piece of the puzzle, and you have no idea how to put it back because you have no idea where to find yourself.  Nobody should walk that road alone.

I can't fix anybody else's head, heart, or mind.  But I can be that little light along the way so that even just one Somebody Very Important knows that someone else has been there, too, and has emerged, and is making a go of it.  It's a fleeting little piece of hope to that Somebody Very Important, but it might be the only hope they have, especially when they are too despondent and too heavy-laden to just keep trying in the face of unyielding darkness.

And the funny thing is, you never know who needs that little piece of hope.  When I first started telling people, many of them would say something along the lines of, "But you are so happy!  You never seemed bad.  I would have never guessed."  So many people with depression have such a good "company face" that you would never guess.  When my cousin's husband killed himself, nobody would have ever guessed.

That's why I tell people I have a mental illness, and it's called depression.  You never know.  You might never guess.

And it may be that my telling the entire world will only help one person, but that's enough for me to give up some selfish pride.  Everybody needs a little light somewhere along the way.  I'm not going to withhold that from that one Somebody Very Important who needs it so desperately.

Spring Fever, Tracky Style

It's spring, officially and in fact (for the most part).  My daffodils are blooming, and they make me smile every day.  We can go outside without an extra layer.  The kids come in after hours playing, and they smell like sunshine.  We can open the windows in the bedroom at night when we sleep, which is my favorite way to sleep. I love spring.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I hate spring.  I have my own personal brand of spring fever, and it makes me crazy (certifiably so).  For whatever "freak of nature" reason, my depression flares up pretty good in the spring.  See, most people who have seasonal bouts with depression have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which essentially means that in the fall/winter when the light fades and the temperatures go down, depression rears its ugly head.  Sometimes light therapy is used to treat SAD.  And when things warm up, and the sun starts coming around more, they get better.

But me?  I didn't happen to wind up with something so predictably normal.  Oh no!  When spring comes around here, I get spring fever.  But it's not the get-up-and-get-moving-go-outside kind.  It's the kind where I want to crawl in bed and hibernate.  What am I supposed to do about that?  Get more sun?  I put it on my list every year when the time changes, but funny, it doesn't help.

It took my husband and me many years to figure out that I have a flare up of my depression every spring.  I've spent the last few years trying to figure out why it happens.  Sometimes I think it's allergies.  I don't have a lot of allergies, but they do flare up occasionally, particularly in the spring (it's the darn trees that I think are so beautiful).  I do try to take allergy medicine in the spring months for this reason.  ...Or maybe since I've had all my babies in the spring, my body has just decided it's 7-9 months pregnant come March and should act appropriately--I mean, what gonna-pop-any-day-mama isn't irritable and moody, right?  ...Or maybe my kids' activity levels go up and it wears me out.  ...Or maybe it's all 3.  Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The fact remains that I still have to cope with it, because I haven't figured out how to prevent it (and apparently the experts haven't either, according to the Mayo Clinic).  Because my depression is generally so well controlled throughout the year, I have developed a tendency to forget how bad it was during those 5+ untreated, unmedicated years of depression.  But in the spring, I remember.

• I remember how grumpy it makes me to be grumpy.
• I remember how little, irrelevant, minuscule things can make me cry, and I remember how deeply I am capable of feeling truly sad things.
• I remember what it's like to wake up worrying and not be able to go back to sleep.  Even when life is good, like it is now.
• I remember how spilled milk can become a reason for everyone in the household to cry.  Mainly because Mom loses her cool.  Over.  Spilled.  Milk.
• I remember what it's like to be constantly irritable, and not really know what it is that's so irritating.
• I remember what it's like to want to be a good mother, but to put the effort in feels like I'm carrying around the weight of the world on my shoulders, and what it's like to feel like a miserable failure at being a mother, even as I put a healthy dinner on the table and read bedtime stories.
• I remember what it's like to wonder if there's light at the end of the tunnel.  How I ever made it through those years when I didn't know there was light, I will never know.  It's hard enough now, when I can tell myself repeatedly that "this, too, shall pass--in June, in June, in June!"
• I remember what it's like to pray, and wonder if anyone is really listening, or if I'll ever feel the Spirit again.

It's a small taste of what those 5 years were like.  It's not fun.  But it's so much easier than those dark years when we didn't know what was going on, or how to handle it, or if anything would ever be better again.  And I am so grateful, not only for the things and the people that pulled me out, but for the experience itself.  It's kind of like tasting the bitter so that you can know the sweet.  It makes my babies' big moments sweeter, and my husband's patient kindness more beloved, and my friends' and family's devotion more precious to me.

In the mean time, the point of this post is that I try to cut myself a little slack in the spring, so if I don't blog so much, it's okay.  I don't have to be perfect at it.  My mental health is more important that that.  Please be patient with me.

It's Hard Work Growing Up...

...especially when your mom is making you do so against your will.  Sariah is learning to sleep through the night without joining us in bed.  It's only taken me 3+ years but I've finally had to draw the line.  I'm flippin' exhausted (which is a very bad thing for my depression, incidentally).

Translation: last night was a reeeeeaaaalllllly long night.  But we did it.  I made her cry in her room on the other side of the gate until she fell back to sleep.  It was about an hour.  It was a long hour.  But I'm hoping that a few more nights of endless agony for us both will reward me (and her, too!!) with a full night's sleep in the very near future.  It's all about the sacrifice, right?

But in the category of tender mercies, Samuel slept from 8:30 to 5:30--he even slept through the hour long joy ride.  Woohoo!

Pick Your Jaws Up off the Floor!

I'm feeling a little judged this week. It's probably mostly paranoia, but there it is. I can't really change what people think, although I'm going to try, so mostly this post is about owning the decisions I've made.

If you haven't heard already, I'm pregnant.

Hence, the title. Obviously.

And worse than that, I'm happy to be pregnant. I can't keep it a secret. It's way too exciting to keep mum about it.

But the one thing that really throws a wrench in my joy is being asked a ton of nosy questions. I don't really think fast enough to hand out coherent answers or arguments. So first, I'm going to send you to this link. It's one of my favorite posts about large families. And second, I'm going to post the following "Q & A with Tracy." I'll start with the more polite questions.

Q: Why do you tell people so early? Aren't you afraid of miscarriage?
A: Yes, I'm deathly afraid of miscarriage. My body has proven repeatedly that it's entirely capable of ending pregnancy early, very early. But the fact is that I can't keep my own secrets. Other people's I'm better at keeping, but not my own. If I miscarry, then I miscarry, and there's probably a good reason for it (no matter how much I hate that it happens). I'm not going to wallow in the misery of my disappointment and heartache, but I'm not going to keep my sorrow a secret either. In our culture, it's apparently not okay to have bad things happen to you, and you have to keep them a secret. I happen to think some of humanity is about sharing emotions with each other; that's when we learn the most about each other, when we learn the most compassion, and when we learn that we are not alone.

Q: Don't you have enough kids?
A: When I was a little girl growing up, the only thing I consistently desired when I grew up was to be a mother. I went through phases when I wanted to be a vet, a teacher, a farmer's wife, a Tupperware lady. When I got older, I thought I would enjoy being a speech therapist, a social worker, and an elementary school teacher. Those things I probably would have loved and been good at (although the social worker thing probably would have killed me, which is why I changed my major). What never changed was that I wanted to be a mom. What's more, I wanted to have a lot of kids, like 12. I spent hours and hours naming them and renaming them. I was going to have triplets named Dallas, Austin, and Houston (that was before I moved to Texas and then decided that was stupid). I was absolutely convinced that my parents had deprived me by giving me only one sibling. I am fortunate enough now to be living my dream! I don't need 12 kids any more, but I still love children, and I still love being a mom, and I'm so grateful to have a husband who allows me the privilege of living my dream.

Q: Do you even use birth control?
A: Is this even your business? I will, however, point out that there was a 6-year gap between the birth of my 3rd child and the birth of my 5th child (the 4th is adopted).

Q: Can you even afford the kids you have?
A: Yes, for the time being. Obviously, in this kind of economy, there are no guarantees. Is there ever really a guarantee? But both Bob and I are willing to do what it takes to provide the necessities of life for the children we have brought into the world. I think that this applies to Bob especially. We live on one income because Bob works hard and makes many sacrifices for us. We all make sacrifices. Sacrifices aren't the worst thing in the world.

Q: Don't you worry that your kids will be deprived of time, attention, money, etc.? Don't you worry that your kids will be permanently warped?
A: I worry about these things all the time, but I don't believe they happen intrinsically because a family is large. I, as a parent, have a responsibility to provide for these things. I know plenty of large families, and I often (not always) find that the children are polite, well-behaved, cooperative, willing to work, good citizens, and exceptionally kind. It doesn't warp a child to have to share a bedroom (we could be living in a one-room cabin, right?). It doesn't warp a child to not always have ice cream in the freezer (hello obese America!). It doesn't warp a child to not get to participate in every single thing s/he thinks necessary (as an adult, I can't possibly do everything I want to do). And there are pros, as well as cons, to having multiple siblings--after all, in 50 years, who is going to be there for my children? Me? Please, I hope I'm dead by then. Or will they have each other, their lifelong friends and companions? (Just so long as they don't start a family feud. LOL!) The bottom line is: I'm NOT raising Generation Me here, and I'm so glad for that.

Q: You just got a bigger house. What are you doing?!
A: Consider that we were planning for our future. 4000 sq ft with 2 occupants does not a happy home make. Although, I do have to say we were really squished in our old house. I think as long as Bob and I stay committed to first the Lord, and second each other, and third our family, 2300 sq ft is plenty of room for a happy family and a successful life together. (Please note that I did not say this would be easy....)

Q: When are you going to stop already?
A: Quite frankly, that's nobody's business but ours. And shame on you for asking!

Q: Have any of your children actually been planned?
A: This really isn't your business either, but YES, all of them have been planned for, longed for, and greatly desired. The one exception is Rex, who arrived at our home on one day's notice for a temporary stay when he was 7 months old. He never left, and we've long since adopted him. I think that was an acceptable surprise as he's such a vital part of our family now.

Q: Isn't it irresponsible of you to bring little people into this world when you have a mental illness?
A: I suffer from depression. That sounds so ... depressing. But really, and I've posted about this before, I'm very, very grateful for my mental illness. It is currently under control with medication, exercise, and the avoidance of large amounts of chocolate (I know--that's inhumane). I will not come off of my meds while I am pregnant--a happy, consistent, and loving mommy, one with not so much cortisol running around her bloodstream, is the best gift you can give a child. I have parented with undiagnosed depression and with uncontrolled depression, as well as with diagnosed & controlled depression. It wasn't fun or pleasant for anyone when I was a mess. I'm not a mess now (or any more of a mess than anyone else or pregnant moms, anyway). It was my experiences as a mother that helped me to understand that there was something wrong with my head--I guess parenting in general leads us to that conclusion anyway, but I'm obviously referring to more here, people. It's my experiences as a mother that bring me some of the greatest joys and the most laughter and the brightest smiles. This isn't really a coherent answer to this question, but it's the way I feel.

Q: Aren't you exhausted all of the time?
A: Well, duh. But it's absolutely worth it.

Q: Do you ever get peace and quiet?
A: Only if my parents or my husband provide for it, bless their hearts. And when I do get it, it's kind of creepy weird.

Q: Don't you think you should make your husband stop traveling on a weekly basis, come home, and help you raise all those kids?
A: I'm living my dream, my husband should get to live his. I think he's been happy with this job, he's learned a lot, and he's built his resume. When he's ready for the 9-5 grind again, he'll get a "regular" job. In the mean time, Bob is an active and integral component of our family. I certainly couldn't do any of this without him.

Q: What does your husband think about another baby?
A: He's super excited, and smiled hugely when I gave him the news.

Q: What do your kids think about another baby?
A: I think there are mixed feelings, but over all, the feeling is excitement and anticipation. Believe me when I say I'll have to fight to spend time with my newborn.

Q: When's the baby due?
A: Assuming all goes well, April 12th.

And now I'll sign off to make sure I'm still pregnant. :D

Overdrive

I think I'm headed into overdrive, and I'm not sure how to stop. Wait, scratch that. I AM in overdrive. I need to stop. But I think my brakes are locked. I don't even know if that analogy makes sense.

The cream of the cake came this morning when my dog bit me. Not Jonah. Junebug, the "obedient" one. I don't think she meant to. I think my leg was just in the way. She couldn't get to a loose dog because I had her on a lead, so she tried to get to Jonah, who was also on a lead, instead. And I was in the way. It was the last thing I expected in a very long week of unexpected things.

I'm really cranky. It's why I haven't been blogging. I'm exhausted. It's why I haven't been blogging. But I miss my "old" life. Not the old house, but the structure and order (believe it or not) of knowing where everything was and where everything should go and what needed to get done at a particular time. I miss not having to go to Lowe's or Home Depot or Ace every day. I miss blogging regularly.

I know things will get better. They really will. It's just a matter of getting there intact, right? So in an effort to achieve that, I'm going to try to get myself back into the swing of things I really love, like blogging. Just bear with me for a little why if my posts are gloomy and grumpy. You don't even have to read them. Come back in a few weeks and see if things are perking up, as they are bound to do.

Hugs to all!

Must Have New Books

Most of you will know that I can be a voracious reader. Reading is second only to breathing for me. I've been known to read cereal boxes, billboards, the classifieds, and my children's homework assignments (again and again), purely for the sake of getting my fix. I must always be reading. In fact, when I have no interest in reading, I know that I've got bigger problems than usual with my depression. I've just gotten off a little run where I didn't want to read anything, and I am now starving for new books to read. I don't really want to reread any of my faves right now. I read a little bit of everything: fantasy, sci fi, classics, bios, YA, self-help, history, science, thrillers, mysteries. I've collected a few suggestions, but I need some more. What have you got for me out there?

Blessings

I hope everyone knows that in my tie post, I was referring to the ties when I said they were alike, conservative, and boring. I would never apply any of these adjectives to either of my boys. Especially boring. Neither of my boys are ever boring!

And yes, my dear friend, I do love those little angels, and I know you meant no harm with your comment. It just happened to strike a chord with my feelings about some of my worst flaws. One of the things that I really struggle with is exasperation with my kids. Sometimes I think it's because of my good friend/enemy, Depression; sometimes I think it's just the normal side effect of being a parent; and sometimes I think it's one of my "poor parenting skills" (is that psycho-babble for saying, "I was wrong and have no excuse; I shouldn't do that"?).

So, in my little ones' defense ... there was a reason I didn't blog yesterday, and that would be because I was spending time with my kids, and I was enjoying it!!!

I took Hannah to the dentist, and she and I spent a great deal of the time laughing at Sariah's antics. She freaked out when they took Hannah back for her cleaning, so we had to follow her back there. Then Sariah amused herself by repeatedly sliding down the base of the exam chair and shrieking, "Wheeeeeeeeeee!" Fortunately, all of the other patrons and dental staff found this as amusing as we did.

After school, Rex and I worked on his Kindermusik homework. We missed a bunch while I was sick, so we've had a lot of catching up to do. He loves Kindermusik, so it wasn't a hassle. While he was at his class, I spent my time talking with another mom about their hopes to adopt after already having 2 biological children. I talked about how hard that was for us, but that the blessings have been many and great. I realized anew how much I really mean that.

The girls and I spent the evening on a hunt for the Missing Cell Phone. But we had a ball tossing their room and the cars. Usually, cleaning their room means a terrible ordeal. But first, one of my neighbors came over and supervised the cleaning of the room by my girls and their 2 friends this weekend (I love my neighbor!!!!!), so the room wasn't so awful to search. And second, what can be more fun than dumping out a bunch of stuff and throwing it all back in without sorting it? Still no cell phone. Bummer.

Meanwhile, Elisabeth and Caleb, bless their hearts, caught up all their late or missing school work without argument, complaint, or under-the-breath murmuring. I am so proud of them for buckling down and getting it done, and it sure made our morning run more smoothly today.

And the blessing of all blessings: when I went to bed last night, I was too exhausted to lay awake or toss and turn. A good night's sleep does wonders for all sorts of things!

Quirky

I think I've been tagged by Karen. Look out, you may be next ... so don't make too much fun of me. And since I'm never quirky, it took me all night to come up with my list, by the way.

6 Quirky Things about Tracy

1. Millipedes make my toes curl. I'd rather run into a centipede or a rat or a scorpion or a frog or a rabid dog or even a snake (this, from the woman who called a member of her bishopric at 6 am to remove a snake from her bathroom counter). Millipedes. Are. Gross.
2. The Backyardigans is my favorite TV show ever. Seriously. When the kids have it on, I must sit and watch from start to finish. My favorite episodes are Pirates' Treasire and The Key to the Nile. I even own Backyardigans CDs and listen to them regularly.
3. I pick my kids' toenails. Ew. I think it's because I run out of my own nails to pick. I know, I should probably join Toenail Pickers Anonymous. My kids tell me so frequently. They have also developed really creative evasion tactics, liking screaming abuse when I come near their toes.
4. I don't like hard candy. Or breath mints. Or chewy candy. Or anything like unto these things. It must be soft, gooey, really chocolatey or peanut buttery or both (my mouth waters just thinking about it), and highly fattening, or it's not worth my taste buds' investment of time and energy. A dish full of candy corn or peppermints can last in my presence for months. But not chocolate chips. Even when I was little, suckers and the like just didn't do anything for me.
5. I don't lose weight, no matter how hard I try, unless I'm daily studying my scriptures, too. It's some freaky weird thing Heavenly Father has to do to me to keep me in line. Yes, sometimes I must be compelled to do what's right. It's been that way since college. Of course, my candy preferences (see #4 above) also play a role in this.
6. I am grateful for my depression. It's not always fun to deal with when it's bad. It's probably not the trial that I would have handpicked. But it was handpicked for me, by the One who knows what's best for me, and it has taught me patience, compassion, perseverance, empathy for others' afflictions, and to judge less often (I wish I could say never, but I'm still a work in progress).

So, now you know that I'm a closet toenail-picker, openly mentally diseased, a millipede hater, Backyardigans-obsessed, and weight-challenged. You know the real me. What about you?

Hmm...whom should I tag? Tiffany, Christy, Staci, Allison, Melessa, and Sharon. Because I know you girls are eager to air your innermost quirks to the world.

Survival, Part 2

One urgent care center visit and 2 ER visits later (all for dehydration), I'm still here. Barely.

In recent years, our hospital has started asking a new set of questions when they admit you. It's the Depression Questions, which most of you will know, I find amusing to begin with, since I take depression medication. I really do think that it's great that they ask these questions. I'm all for people getting their depression treated and under control, if they have it. Living with depression is its own nightmare, and I am a firm believer in whatever appropriate treatment works for each individual.

You will also remember that I have to handle my depression with a little bit of humor. So my disclaimer now is that I am not denigrating the hospital's Depression Mission, just finding some humor in it. If I didn't, I would have to sit down and cry and probably never stop.

"Are you or have you ever been depressed?" That's an easy enough question for me to answer, although I suspect that 5 years ago, I would have lied through my teeth to answer it "right."

The next ones (and please forgive my paraphrasing, I was pretty out of it when they asked me), however, gave me great cause for amusement ... or it would have, anyway, had my head not been about to spin off my shoulders. "Do you feel like harming yourself in any way? Do you have any thoughts of killing yourself?" This is a proper technique for addressing suicide, by the way ... but do they really ask these questions of people coming to the emergency room? I mean, come on.

They asked me this while I was in Triage--you know, where they assess you. From my seat there, I could see a baby with a high fever who looked like she wanted to die. And I saw a man stagger in with a horrible grimace on his face every time he put weight on one of his ankles. And I saw a teen-age ball player cradling his hand, and blood all the way down his baseball pants.

I think while we were at the ER the first time, I told my mom, "Just shoot me now." Does that count as wanting to harm yourself, when you're so sick that you've made arrangements for all of your kids and dragged yourself and your mom to the hospital so they can put you out of your misery?

Do you feel like harming yourself? Ha!

As Mir would say, "I'm just saying', is all."