Talking.

Quite a long time ago I wrote about depression.  I promised myself to write more on the subject.  It's hard though.  In the midst of it, I can't think/talk/write, and when it's all over I just want to move on and feel the light that has returned.  But it has consistently been my experience that as soon as I open the door on an unpopular topic I hear from friends who needed to know they were not alone.

So here I am.  I don't really want to talk about this.  But I know I need to for me.  And I hope it's encouraging for some of you.

B.daddy and I have weathered many rolling tides of depression.  Some long, some short; some expected, some not; some severe, some just blah.  The thing that always gets me is the failure to recognize a wave before it's almost passed.  It's hard to remember to strap on my emotional helicopter and look at the situation from 30,000 feet.  Instead I hull up inside my head thinking terrible things about myself and worrying that everyone else is going to figure out what a loser I am.

I freak out, which only makes the situation worse.

In my experience, if I'm going to get my head above water I have to let go.  Stop freaking out and struggling and let the wave wash over me.  Amazingly, when I do that it actually washes over me and moves on.  When I'm not struggling with the undercurrent, I have the energy and space to heal.  My healing looks a lot like rest.  Like relaxing--just not in the spa sort of way.  Rather like breathing deep and relaxing muscles that ache from exertion.  And there are several things I do as part of my healing regime.

The first thing I do is talk about it.
Before, during, and after any words leave my lips, I utter a lot of inaudible God Help Me's.  Any form of articulate prayer is usually impossible.  But the Spirit intercedes when words fail.  My spirit groans and yet I am comforted, because I believe he has mercy on me.  The first person I talk to is my husband.  He needs to know, and I need him to know when I'm under water.  He is a compassionate and encouraging man, so knowing that he knows brings me immediate relief.  Even though it may still take a while to get through it, I know I can say a few simple words and he will shower me with patience and prayer.
If I feel the need, I'll have a chat with my counselor.  She has gotten to know me very well, and can often remind me of the truths that bring on healing.  Insecurity takes center stage when I'm depressed.  And, for whatever reason, insecurity can make it hard for me to believe positive words spoken by my husband or friends.  Perhaps I think they just feel sorry for me or want to keep me from hurting.  But my counselor has no personal agenda.  Heck, supply and demand says it's better for her if I do feel bad.  I know it sounds twisted, but, like I said before, it is very hard to think straight in the midst of depression.  The counselor-patient relationship can be a clear, objective space to just get right to work, no strings attached.
I keep in touch with my midwife during pregnancy and postpartum.  She has been one of my brightest cheerleaders since before Gizmo was born.  She can help me figure out if a particular wave is related to baby-making hormones and stresses.  And she gives lots of really good hugs.  And she thinks I'm awesome but SHE is awesome, so that makes me feel awesome.
Then there are the kids.  It breaks my heart when a wave has lasted so long or gotten so severe that the kids actually notice it.  If I can I try manage it without their knowledge.  Not for shame, but to avoid unnecessary emotional stress in their little hearts.  I do not pretend with them that Mommy always feels great, and so should they.  We accept all our emotions as they come and deal with them together.  But how Mommy feels can have a very profound effect on a child.  They don't need to know every detail of my mental angst.  However, it's not always avoidable.  When it's not we sit down and have a casual conversation about Mommy feeling really cruddy.  I keep my words simple and as neutral as possible.  I tell them that I may need extra time-outs during the day.  I also tell them that they can speak up for themselves.  If I'm not acting right, they have my full permission to tell me it hurts their feelings.  There is a fine line here.  I do not give them the responsibility of keeping me in line or comforting me.  I aim to empower them to speak out against hurtful behavior.
Finally I try to be open and honest with my friends.  Depending on the growth stage of the friendship this can be very difficult.  Trust is hard for a lot of us, and it takes a long time for eyes-closed-fearless-falling-into-your-arms-trust to be established within a friendship.  Nonetheless, I try to reach out and say, Hey, heads up. I feel like crap.  Sometimes an encouraging conversation will follow, sometimes I am assured my friend is praying for me.  But my favorite thing that happens: trust builds.  The friend I tell looks utterly relieved that someone is being honest with them about something so dark, and we're both able to talk about our dark struggles.  These conversations are fleeting, but they are worth every trepidatious step.

The Pull We Feel

To be perfectly honest...

Today (and several days in recent past) I am just so over it.  I'm sick of laundry. Tired of cleaning.  Exhausted by teaching the kids to be reasonable.  Sick of answering questions.  Cringing at every utterance of, "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?!"  

What's scary though?  I don't even want to cook, to bake, to create.  I hardly care to eat, because that takes effort.  I'm so caught up feeding these other five crazies, one of whom EATS. FROM. MY. BODY. I don't want to mess with feeding myself.

I am pulled in so many directions by so many sets of hands....

I want to sleep (in my studio loft apartment in the city.)

I want to watch movies (on a really big screen in my studio loft apartment in the city.)

I want to eat food some master chef makes for me in HIS messy kitchen, not mine.

Those three things are NOT happening.  Like ever.

But the thing is, I'm also living my dream.  I'm doing exactly what my heart has desired to do since the dawn of my memory.  Through my various stages of development, maturity, and education, I have wanted nothing other than to stay at home with kids to snuggle and cuddle and raise.

Motherhood is not glamorous or popular.  (Despite all those sweet social media blurbs.)  It's not cool.  It's hard work, it's messy, it's mind numbing, it leaves marks. And there's usually a special odor that follows it around.  (Today's special smell was Sweat Pea's sweet little diaper surprise....in a hot minivan stuck in traffic.)  As much as we all say "it doesn't pay a thing" my husband works wicked hard so I can live this dream.  But there are days when I have to call and interrupt his super stressful day to "not complain" about this dream life.

So today was THAT kind of day.

This ain't my first rodeo, y'all.  I know this is one part emotion and ten parts stage of life.  I know this will ebb and flow.  I know all that causes this feeling and that those causes will depart from me, along with the scrumptious cheeks, sweet milk breath, and w's-for-r's.  And then I will ache for more of this.

Simply put, this is Incessant Exhaustion and A Serious Touch of Boredom.

As long as Sweet Pea needs FOOD TO SURVIVE in the middle of the night, there's not a whole lot I can do about the exhaustion bit.  (I really do take good care of myself, Mom.)  I do what I can, but there's only so much I can control.

The Boredom issue is entirely different, especially since we're done with school.  Despite my distress this morning, I got the bare necessities accomplished.  Then, at the spur of the moment it was time to hit the beach!!  (I actually meant to take them to a easy, little wading pool ten minutes from our house.  One hour later, we were at the beach.  Long story.)

Here the kids are like, "Are we really at the beach?!"  They've been asking to go everyday since, um, March.  Everyday, y'all.  Everyday.  I got that bright green shirt for Gizmo, so I could easily spot him on busy beach days.  But as you can see he is quite adept at camouflaging himself.

Our other little dirt magnet.  Skinny Binny kept losing her drawers to the great Atlantic force. Love seeing those beach bums!  (See what I did there?)

There was a great expanse of knee deep water, which was just perfect.  And warm!  Sweet Pea and I swayed with the waves while the other three rolled about in it like dogs!

Last summer, I was too sick to take the kids to the beach.  I really missed it.  The ocean is one of those things in nature....like the night sky.  You look at it, really look at it, for any amount of time and you realize just how enormous this world is.  And just how small you and your exhaustion and boredom really are.  And how could we ever be bored with All Of This?  

All of this glory and gravity pulling me out.

Out There.  

Out of myself.  

Out of the mundane. 

Into awe.

This huddle happened right before we left.  It was the icing on the cake.  I love, love, love seeing the kids explore the world together.

What began as a really crummy day ended as a really good day.  We had more than a few obstacles to overcome, but we persevered for the glory of fun to be had!  Now we're all pink from the sun, squeaky clean from post-beach showers, and exhausted from play instead of work.  

And in the end, what I really needed was to stand at the edge of the world and feel so very small and so very overwhelmed by Beauty and Power. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Gold, baby! Pure gold!

I teach my kids at home.  As hard as this path has been for me, there is one thing these kids and I have always done both well and enthusiastically: reading.  Good, solid, heart-warming, brain-stretching, eye-delighting reading.  From the time she could hear, Li'l Bit has loved chapter books just as much as picture books.  Gizmo and The Rascal are less accomidating to my lofty reading goals.  I distinctly remember loudly "reading over" an 18-month-old Gizmo as he slammed toys around and scaled walls.  I have had to convert to audio for most chapter books because my attention has to be spent keeping Gizmo and The Rascal in a listening state of mind.

So when I stumble across a new picture book that actually has meat to it?  I go bananas!  I gravitate toward books that recite scripture word for word or impart academic knowledge with ease.  Wonderful stories and beautiful illustrations never hurt--I love them with a passion--but I am tempted to pack every reading moment with pure brain protein.  (It's kind of a big deal that I'm responsible for their education.  See also, What am I missing?  Oh Dear God, what am I missing?)

My latest discovery was a total accident and I'm all like, why in the world did my teachers not read these books in class?!  The Rascal brings home all kinds of crazy stuff from the library.  My mighty mighty good man supervises library trips, and I simply reap the rewards.  This time she brought home this kind of hokey, old-looking book:

But then I opened it to read to the kids one day and I was awe-struck.  We were JUST memorizing the definition of a noun, and here is a fun, colorful book about all the different forms of a noun?!  And they are soaking up every single word I read out loud?  Sign me up!

So I'm on the Ruth Heller bandwagon.  She has a whole series on the parts of speech, and to make her even more amazing, she has other educational serieses!?  (Maybe she wrote a book on how to make series plural?)

For real y'all, go check out her author page and invest in some of these gems!  Great for your kids or great gifts of other little ones!!

Click here for her author page on Amazon.