I have to admit that I don't really know much about hurricanes. I have read about them, seen pictures of the devastation they cause and have listened to countless hours of news coverage on them when and after a sizable one has descended upon a sitting duck of a town or city. They are powerful, relentless and unstoppable. There is not way to avoid one that is coming your way. There really are only 2 choices: run like crazy for safety or stay and try to weather the storm and pray you survive. Technology is amazing these days, isn't it? They can tell days ahead if a storm is headed in a direction. Certainly storms shift and sometimes the look worse than they really are, and sometimes they appear fairly harmless and turn out to be anything but that. Storms are upgraded and downgraded all the time. I don't live in an area that is a hot spot for hurricanes, but I can imagine that those living in southern Florida or areas along the east coast are more than thankful that in most cases they have ample warning of a storm that's brewing.
You know, a bought of depression is not unlike a hurricane in many ways. Sometimes you have warning, sometimes you don't. Sometimes it seems big but loses it's power, and sometimes it doesn't look big and all and WHAM! I've never tried to sit through a hurricane. I've had several dreams about tornadoes and tsunamis and they were incredibly vivid, but certainly a dream doesn't come close to actually experiencing the power of a hurricane up close and personal. I have, however, weathered a depression storm or two, and that is no joke either. I have sat in the eye of a hurricane of depression holding my hands over my head listening to the howls of each gust of wind just begging for God to keep me safe and see me through only half believing that I'd make it through. I have found myself in midst of the storm wondering how in the world I missed the warning siren yet again. How do I keep ending up in this place? I don't have the answer. All I can say is that in the midst of the pain I hold tightly to the promises I know to be true, even if they are blurred.
The most striking resemblance that comes to mind when comparing depression to a hurricane is this. The devastation left in it's path. Coming out of a depression and seeing the reality of what's been done is enough to send you right back to where you were. I can't imagine coming back to the place a sizable hurricane hit to witness the destruction probably as far as the eye can see. I can imagine coming out a depression and realizing what has happened around you when you are finally able to surface from the bunker. Reality hurts almost as much as the depression itself.
I'm recovering from a storm right now as I type. Everyday I realize something else that I've neglected, or someone else that I've hurt while I've been tucked away trying to make it to the next day. To say that it breaks my heart is the biggest understatement. It kills me that for months now I have had no reserves to show loves ones how much they matter to me. It kills me that I have raised my voice to my girls repeatedly more in the past months than ever imagined I would in a lifetime. It kills me that I've watched my husband try in vain to help me feel better as I roll over for another 3 hour nap in attempt to dull the pain of breathing. The guilt is palpable. No one that is fighting depression has intent to hurt others. I know that statement is quite declarative, but I say it with conviction even if it's not always true.
I spent last night in tears because I was made aware of the hurt that I've caused someone who I love deeply. She lovingly expressed her hurt and disappointment and all she said was valid. She has every right to feel hurt. What really cuts deep is the fact that I have no words to say that will make it better. I was surviving and it took every ounce of energy that I had inside of me. That probably sounds like an excuse. It is not an excuse...it is truth.
I'm a loving person. I would never hurt someone knowingly and realizing that I caused hurt to those I love is almost more than I can bear. It was tough to get up and face the day today, but I got up and spend some time with God and He had something for me. There are countless verses in the Bible about how God is there with us through any storm. He is our safe place, our haven. He promises peace and hope and a love like no other. He promises a whole bunch of things and Hebrews he says this...."Let us hold UNSWERVINGLY to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful."
I am coming out of my storm. It is still raining, and here and there a gust of wind comes and knocks me back on my behind, but make no mistake, I'm getting back up and holding tightly to the hand that has lifted me from the pit. He will bring me through. He promised that He would, and HE IS FAITHFUL.
About Me
- Who I am: Janiece
- I'm a wife and mom of a 19 year old stepson and 2 little girls ages 5 and almost 7. I was a self-employed real estate appraiser for 12 years and am ready to turn the page and Lord willing go back to school and see what God has next for me. Certainly my highest priority is to attempt to keep the house in order for my dear husband and to savor all the moments I can with my little ones that are growing entirely too fast.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Flashbacks
Isn't it fun when you see something or do something that immediately takes you back to a great time in your life? I had some of those moments yesterday. We got a pathetically small amount of snow, but had some ice to accompany it. We got just enough to make the roads a mess and, come to find out, just enough to make our yard and driveway a sledding heaven! When Brian suggested taking the girls out to sled I snickered inside. the Upstate New York girl in me was screaming, "you call that snow?" You could still see the grass for goodness sake! Well, Brian was right. There was just enough ice and snow for perfect conditions. I wasn't even finished with my Saturday morning coffee before I was looking through the house for something appropriate to wear for this adventure. I get outside to see Brian walking up out driveway. (we have a ridiculously LONG driveway) Brian said he sailed all the way to the road...I thought he meant the driveway..he literally meant the road that cars travel on! He says, "you wanna try?" I hesitated. The 42 year old adult in me knows full well that if the sled tips over at warp speed my body is not going to be the same and I will likely get a mouthful of snow, ice and gravel. I looked over at my 4 year old and knew that I had no choice. I was going down. I hopped on the $5.99 Walmart special sled with Haylee and off we went. We FLEW down the yard....flew onto the driveway and if I was able to steer the sled we would have continued down the driveway, but instead we met Mr. Fence face to face. I have to tell you, it didn't matter...it was so fun and such a rush and more reckless abandon than I'd experienced in years.
For the next hour I wasn't a middle aged mom. I went right back to my childhood. I was a little kid that couldn't wait to get to the top of the hill for another crazy trip down. I grew up in Upstate New York where there wasn't a dusting of snow, there was FEET of snow. Mountains of snow. Snow piles that you could dig caves in that went on forever. Piles of snow to slide down, play king of the mountain on...the possibilities were endless, or so it seemed. We'd patiently wait for the stream to freeze so we could skate around on the ice. My sister and i couldn't get enough of the snow. We'd play until our feet were frozen, bring in our boots and socks and put them as close to the wood stove as we could without catching them on fire and we'd check them every 10 minutes to see if they were dry so we could go back out for more. It never got old. It was exciting. It was fun, and it gave us joy. You know, we didn't have any fancy toys to play with. We had all we needed with what surrounded us.
Don't you sometimes wish you could go back and get some of that childhood joy back? It was so innocent, so pure, and so endless. We get older and so much of our joy is compromised by fear, or mistrust, or pain that doesn't seem to heal. We WANT joy, we desire it, but it's like we forget how to make it ours.
Is it any wonder that Jesus says that we are come to him as little children? Little children see something that is good and they go to it. They aren't wondering "what's the catch". They aren't thinking in the back of their heads, "this is too good to be true". Little children just love with all they have. They love with purity and without abandon. The hearts of our children are not tainted by this world.
What if WE loved Jesus like a little child. What if we believed what He says and just loved him and trusted him and served him because we were excited to obey Him with that reckless abandon. I know that my relationship with Jesus wouldn't be the same. I watch my daughters and how innocent they are and how excited they get over things. What if I got excited over Jesus with that same energy. Food for thought.
For the next hour I wasn't a middle aged mom. I went right back to my childhood. I was a little kid that couldn't wait to get to the top of the hill for another crazy trip down. I grew up in Upstate New York where there wasn't a dusting of snow, there was FEET of snow. Mountains of snow. Snow piles that you could dig caves in that went on forever. Piles of snow to slide down, play king of the mountain on...the possibilities were endless, or so it seemed. We'd patiently wait for the stream to freeze so we could skate around on the ice. My sister and i couldn't get enough of the snow. We'd play until our feet were frozen, bring in our boots and socks and put them as close to the wood stove as we could without catching them on fire and we'd check them every 10 minutes to see if they were dry so we could go back out for more. It never got old. It was exciting. It was fun, and it gave us joy. You know, we didn't have any fancy toys to play with. We had all we needed with what surrounded us.
Don't you sometimes wish you could go back and get some of that childhood joy back? It was so innocent, so pure, and so endless. We get older and so much of our joy is compromised by fear, or mistrust, or pain that doesn't seem to heal. We WANT joy, we desire it, but it's like we forget how to make it ours.
Is it any wonder that Jesus says that we are come to him as little children? Little children see something that is good and they go to it. They aren't wondering "what's the catch". They aren't thinking in the back of their heads, "this is too good to be true". Little children just love with all they have. They love with purity and without abandon. The hearts of our children are not tainted by this world.
What if WE loved Jesus like a little child. What if we believed what He says and just loved him and trusted him and served him because we were excited to obey Him with that reckless abandon. I know that my relationship with Jesus wouldn't be the same. I watch my daughters and how innocent they are and how excited they get over things. What if I got excited over Jesus with that same energy. Food for thought.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Love/Hate Relationships
My last post was about daring to be broken. I really thought that my next post would be titled something like "refusing to stay broken." I thought that would be the obvious follow up since we all know that we feel broken at times, and sometimes its that brokenness that we are most in tune with God and can hear what He has to say. Sometimes I think God needs us to be broken so that we see our need for Him and with our whole heart yearn for Him; but I say with confidence that it is not God's desire to leave us broken. That's not His nature.
In my quest to remedy my brokenness, I began doing research on a number of things. In addition to my research I made a doctor's appointment. A bit of history, after the birth of Kerrington I fell into postpartum depression. I was put on an antidepressant and after a while it seemed to help. I have been on it for some time now, but a few months ago I seemed to be having more anxiety and I was definitely more agitated (just ask Brian if you doubt me...poor guy) and extremely fatigued. At my appointment my doctor switched me to a different medication and it didn't take me long to realize that this medication was not right for me. Now, I wasn't only agitated I was extremely agitated, I was angry, and I started to really dislike myself, I was snappy with my girls which made me dislike myself even more. It was a horrible downward spiral. Now...in addition to my antidepressant mess....my thyroid has been completely out of whack. Coincidentally, many symptoms of thyroid dysfunction and depression are the same...so, am I being treated for depression when really it's my thyroid, or is it a combination of both? Good question huh? It must be because no doctor seems to have an answer other than to try to throw more medication at me.
So, here is where the love/hate relationship comes in. Let me make it clear, I am not anti-medication. Are there medications that are over prescribed? Certainly. Are there people that misuse them? Certainly. Are there people with a need for them who live normal lives because of these medications? Certainly. 13 years ago I was on anti-depressants for about a year when I was dealing with the loss of my father. The medication helped me through a very difficult time and I was incredibly thankful for it and when I felt better I was able to slowly go off the medication and was good to go. I guess that would be the love part. Here's the other part. The recent medication that I was on turned me into a person I didn't know, and frankly didn't like. Thankfully I realized that the medication was pure evil in my body and I stopped taking it. I know that is not recommended...but I knew that stopping the medication could not be worse that what I was feeling on the medication. My doctor told me that I did the right thing, by the way.
Here is my big frustration. In doing my research I found that having a dysfunctional thyroid affects a host of other things. It can set all sorts of hormones out of whack which can absolutely affect energy level, mood, anxiety, appetite, weight gain and/or loss, and a host of other things.
When I brought this up as a possibility for my symptoms to my doctor and the specialist he sent me to I was dismissed and they both recommended that I see a psychiatrist for more appropriate medication. You should have seen the look on their faces when I said that I didn't want to be on any medication and that I wanted to look into natural remedies such as a cleaner diet and more exercise and herbs. I swear for a moment I had a third eye.
I still have a great amount of respect for my doctor. I just disagree with his method of treatment for me. I refuse to believe that additional medication is the answer for me, other than for regulating my thyroid, which I will likely always be on medication for.
I'm writing this because I know that I have many friends that have had more than frustrating relationships with their doctors in effort to get adequate help for either themselves or for their children. These doctors go to medical school for years and years and they have a wealth of knowledge, and we WANT to trust them, but more and more it seems like we have to be our own physician. To be honest, this is really the first time I've been in complete disagreement with a doctor, and it was even harder to disagree with the specialist I was sent to, however, I know my body, I've lived in it for a long time. Why is it that sometimes its so hard to trust what your body is telling you.
The bottom line is that I'm not fixed yet. I'm still feeling broken....but I'm not sitting in my brokenness...I'm fighting tooth and nail to get out of it. It may take a while, actually, I'm certain it will take a while, but I'm also certain that in time I will feel better. I know that I am taking the right steps and I'm trusting in that.
In my quest to remedy my brokenness, I began doing research on a number of things. In addition to my research I made a doctor's appointment. A bit of history, after the birth of Kerrington I fell into postpartum depression. I was put on an antidepressant and after a while it seemed to help. I have been on it for some time now, but a few months ago I seemed to be having more anxiety and I was definitely more agitated (just ask Brian if you doubt me...poor guy) and extremely fatigued. At my appointment my doctor switched me to a different medication and it didn't take me long to realize that this medication was not right for me. Now, I wasn't only agitated I was extremely agitated, I was angry, and I started to really dislike myself, I was snappy with my girls which made me dislike myself even more. It was a horrible downward spiral. Now...in addition to my antidepressant mess....my thyroid has been completely out of whack. Coincidentally, many symptoms of thyroid dysfunction and depression are the same...so, am I being treated for depression when really it's my thyroid, or is it a combination of both? Good question huh? It must be because no doctor seems to have an answer other than to try to throw more medication at me.
So, here is where the love/hate relationship comes in. Let me make it clear, I am not anti-medication. Are there medications that are over prescribed? Certainly. Are there people that misuse them? Certainly. Are there people with a need for them who live normal lives because of these medications? Certainly. 13 years ago I was on anti-depressants for about a year when I was dealing with the loss of my father. The medication helped me through a very difficult time and I was incredibly thankful for it and when I felt better I was able to slowly go off the medication and was good to go. I guess that would be the love part. Here's the other part. The recent medication that I was on turned me into a person I didn't know, and frankly didn't like. Thankfully I realized that the medication was pure evil in my body and I stopped taking it. I know that is not recommended...but I knew that stopping the medication could not be worse that what I was feeling on the medication. My doctor told me that I did the right thing, by the way.
Here is my big frustration. In doing my research I found that having a dysfunctional thyroid affects a host of other things. It can set all sorts of hormones out of whack which can absolutely affect energy level, mood, anxiety, appetite, weight gain and/or loss, and a host of other things.
When I brought this up as a possibility for my symptoms to my doctor and the specialist he sent me to I was dismissed and they both recommended that I see a psychiatrist for more appropriate medication. You should have seen the look on their faces when I said that I didn't want to be on any medication and that I wanted to look into natural remedies such as a cleaner diet and more exercise and herbs. I swear for a moment I had a third eye.
I still have a great amount of respect for my doctor. I just disagree with his method of treatment for me. I refuse to believe that additional medication is the answer for me, other than for regulating my thyroid, which I will likely always be on medication for.
I'm writing this because I know that I have many friends that have had more than frustrating relationships with their doctors in effort to get adequate help for either themselves or for their children. These doctors go to medical school for years and years and they have a wealth of knowledge, and we WANT to trust them, but more and more it seems like we have to be our own physician. To be honest, this is really the first time I've been in complete disagreement with a doctor, and it was even harder to disagree with the specialist I was sent to, however, I know my body, I've lived in it for a long time. Why is it that sometimes its so hard to trust what your body is telling you.
The bottom line is that I'm not fixed yet. I'm still feeling broken....but I'm not sitting in my brokenness...I'm fighting tooth and nail to get out of it. It may take a while, actually, I'm certain it will take a while, but I'm also certain that in time I will feel better. I know that I am taking the right steps and I'm trusting in that.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Dare to be Broken
I've been thinking about this post for a few days. I was hoping that giving it some extra thought would give me some clarity on what exactly I wanted to say, but it seem like the clarity comes at the keyboard. I'm not sure exactly how to say what's on my heart, but I'm going to give it a shot.
It's no secret that I've been struggling for the past few months. It wasn't my plan to share that struggle with the world, but I felt lead to write about it and I'm starting to see why God was prompting me to write. Writing about my struggle with depression gave encouragement to other women who were also struggling. I received several responses to that post and I'm quite certain that I GOT much more encouragement than I gave. Depression is a lonely place and when you are in it you feel as if you are the only one....we are never alone in our struggles.
When thinking about how I've felt lately the word that comes to mind is broken. We all feel broken from time to time and the things that make us feel that way are different for all of us. For me, I think my biggest challenge is feeling like I'm doing an adequate job as a wife and mother. I admit that I compare myself to other mothers all the time. I have several friends who also have kids, some of them work at least part time and I have never once seen their house in a state of disarray. To be honest it makes me a little crazy. HOW is that possible? They "say" that it's not always that way...but I'm not sure I believe them. I might have to peek in some windows. There are so many little things to do in the course of a day to keep things together and it seems like whether I have 2 things or 12 things on my plate, somehow I manage to dump the plate.
One thing that I have realized is that I am not superwoman. I don't have a spandex suit, and if i did I'm quite sure it would not fit. For some strange reason I put this crazy pressure on myself to "do it all" and when I fall short I feel like a failure. Sometimes I catch myself putting the ridiculous expectations on myself...other times I don't. Here's the other thing that I have realized. We are not supposed to be superwoman. Our society would have us believe that us capable women can effectively work a full-time job, take care of children, a husband, a house, maintain friendships and sanity. I'm sure some will disagree with me...but that is a load of crap. There is no woman on the face of this earth that can effectively (this is the key word) do all of those things. Some women don't have a choice but to work and care for their children and home, and my hat goes off to you. I don't know how you do it. We only have so much energy to give...we do not have a never ending tank of reserves. It would be nice, but we don't. I have struggled with balance all of my life. For me it always seems like succeeding in one area means another area is suffering. I know I'm not the only one with that struggle. What I need to do is adjust expectations of myself and not feel so inadequate when something doesn't get done right...or doesn't get done at all. Perfect example...I'm writing this and it's 6:24 am. I got up at 5:15 am (which is unheard of for me) to write. I made a cup of coffee and took one sip and heard footsteps. Haylee woke up and wanted a snack. (she NEVER wakes up at this hour). I sat back down to write and Kerrington started crying with a nightmare....so I got up and held her and calmed her back to sleep. What's a mom to do? This is exactly why it takes a week to fold a load of laundry!!!
Anyway. The main thing that was on my mind is this. Being broken now and then really isn't all that bad. It's not fun to feel broken, that's a given. However, there are some great things that come from being broken. Think about what it means when something is broke. It doesn't work. Something needs to change. I was feeling broken and I needed some things to change. Feeling broken caused me to fall on my knees begging for peace and comfort from my Lord. It's always wonderful to return to His waiting embrace, isn't it? Feeling broken has caused me to take an honest look at myself and see exactly where the problem lies. That is a tall order...but I'm seeing that there are many small changes that I can make and those small changes can make big differences. Feeling broken made me realize that I wasn't taking good care of my body. I need to make better food choices and I need to make time to exercise and certainly this will make a world of difference. Feeling broken caused my husband to care for me in different ways...and this made me realize all over again how much he loves me and how caring and thoughtful he is. Feeling broken has made me realize the things that are really important. What is really important is NOT me finishing my blog when I wanted to. What was important this morning was comforting Kerrington when she was having a bad dream. I have two little girls that need me...a lot. This means that there are a world of things that will not get done when I anticipate. Feeling broken has made me realize that that is OK.
Pain is good. Pain is a message that something isn't right. Dare to be broken.
It's no secret that I've been struggling for the past few months. It wasn't my plan to share that struggle with the world, but I felt lead to write about it and I'm starting to see why God was prompting me to write. Writing about my struggle with depression gave encouragement to other women who were also struggling. I received several responses to that post and I'm quite certain that I GOT much more encouragement than I gave. Depression is a lonely place and when you are in it you feel as if you are the only one....we are never alone in our struggles.
When thinking about how I've felt lately the word that comes to mind is broken. We all feel broken from time to time and the things that make us feel that way are different for all of us. For me, I think my biggest challenge is feeling like I'm doing an adequate job as a wife and mother. I admit that I compare myself to other mothers all the time. I have several friends who also have kids, some of them work at least part time and I have never once seen their house in a state of disarray. To be honest it makes me a little crazy. HOW is that possible? They "say" that it's not always that way...but I'm not sure I believe them. I might have to peek in some windows. There are so many little things to do in the course of a day to keep things together and it seems like whether I have 2 things or 12 things on my plate, somehow I manage to dump the plate.
One thing that I have realized is that I am not superwoman. I don't have a spandex suit, and if i did I'm quite sure it would not fit. For some strange reason I put this crazy pressure on myself to "do it all" and when I fall short I feel like a failure. Sometimes I catch myself putting the ridiculous expectations on myself...other times I don't. Here's the other thing that I have realized. We are not supposed to be superwoman. Our society would have us believe that us capable women can effectively work a full-time job, take care of children, a husband, a house, maintain friendships and sanity. I'm sure some will disagree with me...but that is a load of crap. There is no woman on the face of this earth that can effectively (this is the key word) do all of those things. Some women don't have a choice but to work and care for their children and home, and my hat goes off to you. I don't know how you do it. We only have so much energy to give...we do not have a never ending tank of reserves. It would be nice, but we don't. I have struggled with balance all of my life. For me it always seems like succeeding in one area means another area is suffering. I know I'm not the only one with that struggle. What I need to do is adjust expectations of myself and not feel so inadequate when something doesn't get done right...or doesn't get done at all. Perfect example...I'm writing this and it's 6:24 am. I got up at 5:15 am (which is unheard of for me) to write. I made a cup of coffee and took one sip and heard footsteps. Haylee woke up and wanted a snack. (she NEVER wakes up at this hour). I sat back down to write and Kerrington started crying with a nightmare....so I got up and held her and calmed her back to sleep. What's a mom to do? This is exactly why it takes a week to fold a load of laundry!!!
Anyway. The main thing that was on my mind is this. Being broken now and then really isn't all that bad. It's not fun to feel broken, that's a given. However, there are some great things that come from being broken. Think about what it means when something is broke. It doesn't work. Something needs to change. I was feeling broken and I needed some things to change. Feeling broken caused me to fall on my knees begging for peace and comfort from my Lord. It's always wonderful to return to His waiting embrace, isn't it? Feeling broken has caused me to take an honest look at myself and see exactly where the problem lies. That is a tall order...but I'm seeing that there are many small changes that I can make and those small changes can make big differences. Feeling broken made me realize that I wasn't taking good care of my body. I need to make better food choices and I need to make time to exercise and certainly this will make a world of difference. Feeling broken caused my husband to care for me in different ways...and this made me realize all over again how much he loves me and how caring and thoughtful he is. Feeling broken has made me realize the things that are really important. What is really important is NOT me finishing my blog when I wanted to. What was important this morning was comforting Kerrington when she was having a bad dream. I have two little girls that need me...a lot. This means that there are a world of things that will not get done when I anticipate. Feeling broken has made me realize that that is OK.
Pain is good. Pain is a message that something isn't right. Dare to be broken.
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