Tag: journey

Another Trip Around The Sun

43. Who knew? For a girl that literally thought when she was 18 she never would see 30…43 is like getting bonus years.

In all seriousness, some of you know (but many don’t) that this time last year my depression was so bad I would have told you I didn’t want to live to see another birthday. I was locked in a battle of wills between a past I couldn’t let go of and a future I didn’t like or want. The result was a paralyzing soul crushing “there is no point” place. Only the thought of leaving my daughter with no parents on this Earth kept me here. And I’ll tell you openly there was more than one day even that was a slim slim thread. The darkness and pain had life so unbearable I honestly would have rather have been dead to have relief from it.

Many toss around terms like “crazy” or “nuts” for covering their own inability to understand the effects that depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts have on a person. It is so much easier to judge than wrap your brain around how terrifying it can be. “Just doing it for attention” or “all talk” are two of my least favorite pass offs I hear when someone is talking about someone else’s suffering. It is because of that type of non-understanding that those who suffer from those illnesses push them down. Hide them. Keep them away from the people who love them and need them despite the voices in their head telling them all those people would be better off. It’s those types of judgements that led the great Robin Williams to leave us instead of face his fan’s judgement if he told anyone how unhappy he was. Despite how far society has come in understanding mental illness it has SO FAR to go in grace, compassion, and kindness for those who suffer.

Through so much love and support this last year – support coming from places I didn’t expect – I am deep in counseling and medical treatment of a disease I will never be rid of. It was a genetic “gift” from both sides of my lineage and one I finally understand I’ll never escape. I can manage it. I can ask for help on the bad days. I can watch for signs I’m hurting the ones I love in my own pain. I can be open and honest in my struggle so someone else will make the right choice in that darkest hour.

But I’ll always be a little bit broken. God made me that way. Perfectly imperfect! I may not know or understand His purpose for me every day but right now I think some of it is to use my voice to share my journey so maybe others have a shorter path to recovery. Life is messy. It’s ugly. Feeling alone and hurting in the agony is excruciating.

As I reflect on starting another year on this planet I can tell you I have hope. I believe God has me exactly where I am supposed to be. I have faith each of my children are firmly in His hands and that God can protect them far better than I can. I have peace that Fred and I raised good kids who will put good into the world. I have hope there is someone out there for me to share my life with. Not someone to replace my Fred – there is no replacement. But someone who can love me understanding all that I have been through before him. I have God protecting me and the ability to talk to Him daily for probably the first time in my life. I have a job I adore that supports all the changes this past year has brought me and pushes me to follow through with taking care of myself. I am grateful that I am still here. I have far to go but from where I was a year ago? Sheesh. I feel lucky to be alive.

Ok.. enough pontificating. Birthday celebrations about to happen.

Peace y’all. Love each other. Be kind. Life is precious and short. Make every moment count. ❤️

Walk by faith, not by sight…

For a supremely focused on details have to know what is happening at all times person…walking by faith is not my default condition. As a matter of fact at 42 years young I am learning that when taken out of the control all things – predict all outcomes – prepare for anything bubble I’ve lived in all my adult life I become agitated, aggressively protective of all things I deem to be mine, and my mind skitters out of control. It triggers deep anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. It also triggers a no filter ready fire aim reflex that has consequences I can’t even begin to see in my agitated state. It’s confusing to those who know me to be kind, loving beyond measure, and deeply compassionate. Who is this monster saying these things? For me it’s frightening in it’s intensity and after shocks. It’s like waking up after a car accident where you didn’t even realize you were driving and being surrounded by bodies…

I’ve always attributed smaller episodes like these to be my “Mama Bear” syndrome. Do not – under any circumstances – mess with one of my children. The consequences have always been swift and razor sharp. There are more than a few teachers or parents who made the mistake of singling out one of my children as an example that can attest to this. Or a school district who failed to recognize the patriotic importance of Memorial Day as the case was. Or a coach that didn’t recognize family time on an every other weekend schedule as more important than a Sunday practice. It has always been an involuntary launch at whomever made one of my children cry, made them sad, or threatened their welfare. No thought process just “go”. And if you draw tears from one of my children – for any reason – I see red. Just…RED.

As I am learning daily grief when Fred died literally stopped time for me. The kids stopped growing in my mind. I stopped my life. Sure, I did things. Traveled, worked, had friendships. But I made no significant progress at healing or recognizing that life should continue on. I started counseling and stopped when it became uncomfortable or hinted at those things needing to happen. I avoided people who needled me about the kids needing to have outside interests. I mean we were having fun and seeing the world – what IS your problem?

I DEFINITELY resisted the call of God in my heart to lean on Him. He took my husband away. Just three short years after taking my grandfather, the only father I had really had, away. Why on earth would I trust GOD? My life had been a series of heartache, pain, and bad events. Birth defect, abusive mother and a series of step fathers, now the loss of my beloved spouse. Didn’t He just put me on this earth to suffer? No way He wanted me – I was just His punching bag.

With all three children out of the house now I have no distraction from the call of God. And with the pain I’ve been in for the last almost year and a half – I’ve got no other option but to feel His pull. As I’ve learned to lean into Him the gentle nudge I’ve been given is to walk with Him without knowing what is next. Walk by faith not by sight. Without knowing if my children will be ok. Without knowing if I will be alone forever. Without knowing if my health will stabilize. The repeated message – in so many different ways I’ve lost count – is “Trust me child”.

My brain wars with itself every single day. The old demons are still there. The gentle peace I’ve felt small tastes of are there too. Some days I get a headache from telling myself to let go and just trust. Some days He sends so many signs I’m surprised He hasn’t taken out a billboard (He did three times on the way back from Lubbock a couple months ago). He’s provided me with a church that lights up my curiosity about Him. He’s provided the NEED for the peace of prayer. I know He can but He hasn’t gotten me completely past the anger, anxiety, and depression. I assume He’s still teaching me something with that. Some days I wake up so tormented it’s a wonder I can function. USUALLY those are the days I wind up praying so hard it’s amazing I do anything else and by the end of the day I’m peaceful.

The message in all this rambling? If God can take me…someone who literally has felt most of her life that she was being punished…and make me understand I am His child? Walk by faith. It’s HARD. I struggle with it and probably always will. But I’m learning He has a plan for all of this crazy life. And I’ll be ok if I trust Him.