Fear

For years, I have struggled with fear. It's been given names like nightmares, anxiety and timidity. Sometimes it's easily managed. Sometimes I can take the highest dosage of medication and still have to breathe through panic attacks.

I'm 34. Logically, I know that there are no monsters under my bed. I know that the odds of a killer hiding in the dark room are slim to none. I know that this house is sound and that the second floor won't collapse while my children sleep.

I still fear these things.

My biggest struggle has been agoraphobia. When these fears begin to drown out my logic, the world takes on a different shape and color. Everything becomes too large. Sounds and colors are harsh. I feel like Alice after a bite of mushroom.

It's started to affect how I use social media. I don't get out much with my friends so I rely on Facebook, Twitter and texting to keep in touch with friends and relatives. When the fear gets out of hand then I shy away. I bring up the page and everything distorts. I feel as though everyone is reading what I'm typing and judging me right that second. I'm terrified to open a new page because it will just bring news of some disaster.

This last week has been buried in fear. There has been a lot of time on the couch with my head buried in books. I haven't spent nearly as much time as I should with my kids or cleaning the house. I haven't left the house since Sunday. I've rarely texted even my best friend or my mother.

Today, I took the kids for a walk. I texted my sister. I'm posting this blog post. I'm surfacing. I know that I'll go under again sometime but I'll still be OK. Fear will never win.

Breakdown

During my usual non-pregnant time, I'm on a careful cocktail of antidepressants, anti-anxiety and other meds. I'm barely allowed to take half of my antidepressant while I'm playing host body. This makes it hard to cope with life in general.

I have a bad anxiety disorder that manifests itself with agoraphobia. This is hard to admit because it just seems...silly. Why am I afraid to go outside? I've never been the victim of a crime like mugging or carjacking. We don't have open war, soldiers in the street and bombs going off. I've never walked outside to a hail of spiders. The grocery store is pretty tame.

I don't like feeling this way. It feels like I wear an iron cape everywhere. My thoughts and responsibilities wrap around me and weigh me down. I feel worthless and unable to function. I become convinced that people would be better off without me, especially my family.

On Tuesday night, I broke. I cried for an hour after reluctantly agreeing to let Ben comfort me. My thoughts were screaming 'Burden! Don't be a burden to him!'. Then I relaxed and let my husband just be my husband. He's kind, loving and wants nothing more than to hold me. I am blessed to have a partner like that. After I talked and cried, I felt light. I felt loved. I felt safe.

I believe, without a doubt, that God loves me. I believe that He paired me with Ben so that I would have a tangible example of that love. I'm grateful for a husband that follows God's word and loves his wife the way God wants.

Boogie Woogie Brain

I'm at a low point right now. I'm not even sure why it's happening. Yes, life is very stressful right now.

• We're still trying to enroll Sophie into different therapies. GISD is dragging their feet and they keep asking for more paperwork. I've given them enough that they will at least put her case in front of a board to see if she qualifies for the PPCD program. She probably won't start that program until the next school year. We've been wait-listed for speech therapy at the Callier Center. So now we just have to figure out a schedule, find some classes and possibly go back to Mother's Day out for the summer. The speech therapist said that Sophie would respond very well to therapy.
• Gideon is still showing autism red flags. He will turn 3 at the end of June. I've spoken to the GISD people and we're going to wait until he turns 3 and inevitably fails his pediatrician's developmental evaluation. Pair that with a vision and hearing test and we'll see if he can also qualify for the PPCD program in the fall. Again, we'll just look for some speech classes and maybe MDO in the summer. He is talking more and more. We're noticing that what originally looked like red flags are actually part of a shy personality. He's a quiet little introvert just like his Daddy. He can talk but a lot of the time he just chooses not to. He loves to sing and that makes my heart soar.
• Milly is hitting all of her milestones. She's a feisty little thing. I wept tears of joy when I saw her stacking blocks at 14 months old instead of over 2 years old like her siblings. She walks all over and runs if she's getting into something. She laughs at everything and screeches if it's really funny. She eats like a teenage boy. She toots like one, too. She hates wearing bows and dresses. She loves watching the Ranger games. She's Daddy's Little Sunshine. I would love to see her in MDO, too. She's pretty firmly entrenched in the separation anxiety phase and MDO changes that quickly.
• We're staying in the same rental house for another year. There is a lot of work that needs to happen in this house to make it habitable. The majority of the work is going to fall to me. Every room needs to be painted and trim needs to be added. 3 ceiling fans will be replaced and one will be added. Closets will be emptied and reorganized. The master walk-in closet will be turned into a very small office space. The kids will share one bedroom and have a playroom.

All of this is added to the day-to-day cooking, cleaning and general domesticated merriment of a SAHM. I'm still losing weight and inches on the Weight Watchers plan. I've boxed up a ton of my old clothes. There's not a whole lot left. It's irritating to buy new clothes right now for a few reasons and they are both ridiculous.

1. I'm outgrowing clothes quickly. I don't like spending $60 on a pair of jeans that are going to be saggy-baggy in a month. I know. BOO-HOO.
2. Everything is in pretty and bright springy colors right when I'm in a depressive funk. I want to buy all black but then I lust after yellow shirts and cherry covered purses. I know. GET OVER YOURSELF.

All of this rambling diatribe is basically to say that anxiety sucks, my life is actually going very well and I need prayers that God won't stop hitting me with a 2x4 until my eyes uncross and I see what He's given me.

Insomnia

I'm not asleep.

I'm up and obsessing.

There's just too much in my brain.

What needs to be done to make this house habitable?
What does Sophie need next?
Does the pediatrician have all of the shot records for all of the kids?
Where does Gideon need to go first to be evaluated?
Did I put my delicates in the dryer?
How in the world am I going to do all of this house stuff by myself?
Why did I eat so many Reese's Eggs?
Should I feel bad for not taking the kids to an Easter Egg hunt?
The kids hate candy and crowds so why am I beating myself up?
Seriously, where are my delicates?
How clean does my house need to be before I can call in a maid service?
How do I get rid of those ants in the front yard?
How am I supposed to get myself to the doctor with three kids in tow?
Is there an eye doctor able to see my weirdo kids?
Is it really 2 AM?
Would anyone notice if I went to go get cigarettes?
How many lists can one person make in one night?

On and on and on and on...

I hate depression.
I hate anxiety.

I hate this.

Promises

Tomorrow morning if you wake up
And the sun does not appear,
I will be here.

If in the dark we lose sight of love,
Hold my hand and have no fear,
‘Cause I will be here.

CHORUS
I will be here when you feel like being quiet;
When you need to speak your mind, I will listen.
And I will be here when the laughter turns to crying;
Through the winning, losing, and trying, we’ll be together,
‘Cause I will be here.

Tomorrow morning if you wake up
And the future is unclear,
I will be here.

As sure as seasons are made for change,
Our lifetimes are made for years,
So I will be here.

CHORUS
I will be here, so you can cry on my shoulder;
When the mirror tells us we’re older, I will hold you.
And I will be here to watch you grow in beauty,
And tell you all the things you are to me;
I will be here.

I will be true to the promise I have made,
To you and to the One who gave you to me.

As sure as seasons are made for change,
Our lifetimes are made for years,
So I, I will be here.
We'll be together and i will be here.

I Will Be Here
Steven Curtis Chapman

This is how God reminds me that He will never put me down.

Songs That Soothe

When you are an adult who must act like an adult but is still afraid of generally everything then you need to find ways to soothe your addled soul and mind.

My way? Music.

Hillsong's Greatness of Our God says it perfectly.

"Give me eyes to see
More of who You are
May what I behold,
still my anxious heart."

"Give me grace to see
Beyond this moment here.
To believe that there
Is nothing left to fear."

"No sky contains,
No doubt restrains,
All You are,
The greatness of our God.
I spend my life to know,
And I'm far from close
To all You are,
The greatness of our God."

Thank you, Lord, for working through these amazing people.

Just A Peek

It's days like today that make me wish for my old coping mechanisms.

I feel like holing in a booth or a chair with unlimited cups of diesel fuel coffee and chain-smoking while I journal. I want a big soft hoodie to shield me from the outside. I want to plug my ears with my iPod and journal through the music.

I still use music. It's hard to connect with my feelings. I don't like to face them. I would rather bury everything and just clean my sink or sort laundry. Instead, I sit down with an empty page, a pen and a few playlists. Rage Against the Machine pounds in my ears while I mark up my journal in big block letters. I let the anger flow out of my body and onto paper where I can deal with everything without it being so jumbled. I turn the music to Alison Krauss and let the tears smudge the page while I allow myself to be sad and write about why I'm sad.

The coffee keeps me alert and focused. The cigarettes make me calm and take away the facial twitch that seems to get worse whenever the anxiety gets in the red.

I can't do this anymore. I can still journal. I can still listen to music. I have to limit my caffeine so that I can get enough sleep to get up in the morning and take care of the kids. Smoking is right out. Can't pick that habit back up.

I'm a suburban mom of three. I have to act like one. Take my medicine, say my prayers, stop complaining and just do what has to be done.

Still, every once and a while, my finger itch.

Coming Out

For some time now, something has been weighing on my heart. I have alluded to mental problems here on my blog. I've told some people a little bit of my history. I don't hide the fact that I'm on medication for depression and anxiety.

However, God is bringing different stories to my attention. He's showing me what happens when people don't speak up when something is wrong. He's showing me that there is still a stigma and a shame attached to depression, anxiety, OCD, agoraphobia and other mental illnesses. I feel like He's asking me to stand up and tell my story a little more clearly.

I became a Christian when I was 10. Like most first-born children, I am a people pleaser and that translated over to my relationship with God. I tried to be perfect for Him. I tried my hardest not to sin, to do my best at school and to always make life easy for my parents. I failed miserably but I kept trying. When I was 20, I married my first husband. Now that I was out of the house and only responsible to my husband and myself, I began to get lax. I started gaining weight and started smoking off and on. I stopped going to church. I quit reading the Bible and eventually stopped talking to God unless it was an emergency.

2 years after getting married, I got pregnant and then lost the baby after 4 days. I spiraled down into a deep, dark pit of depression. I became obsessed with making my body work. I couldn't get pregnant again so we stopped trying. In a haze, I just went back and forth to work. I ate dinner and watched TV. I tried to sleep but almost always had to take pills to get myself to sleep. Once I was asleep, I could sleep for days. I never wanted to shower. I never wanted to go out. I never wanted to interact with anyone. I just stopped. My world became as large as my bedroom. My husband just left me alone so that I could deal with it. He didn't want to bother me.

1 year to the day after the miscarriage, I found out that my husband was in love with another woman. I never heard my husband say that he loved me again. He became secretive. He never mentioned wanting a divorce but he refused to tell me what was really going on with this woman. To this day, I have no idea if it was an emotional affair or if he was sleeping with her. We both went to counseling, individual and marriage. He didn't like our marriage counselor because the doctor was making it out to be all his fault.

In March 2005, I snapped. I drove to my mother's house and began ranting and raving. She recognized that I was gone and took me to the ER. I was admitted into an outpatient program the next day. I've read the journal posts from those first days in the institution and I'm amazed at how...sick I sound. The second journal post is all about my husband who was in a bad mood when I came home from my therapy. It turns out that he was hurt that no one had been paying attention to him during this "hard time".

After 3 days of outpatient therapy, I knew that if I went home then I would be dead the next day. I gave a note to one of the doctors and they would not let me leave. I stayed inpatient for a week until my medicine leveled out and I felt safe going home. The first thing my husband asked when I called him to tell him about staying was whether or not I was going to lose my job and had I called the insurance company. Again, I look at those journal posts and I'm flabbergasted that I lived like this for so long.

While in therapy, I hit rock bottom. I had a husband who was in love with another woman but wasn't willing to let me know what he thought of me. He would rather keep me dangling as some bizarre roommate. I was unable to get pregnant. I had no friends. I hated my job. I was terrified to step outside most days. I was lying on the floor of a co-ed mental institution on a mattress next to a nurse because I was on "Suicide Watch". I wasn't allowed to have shoelaces or caffeine. I wanted my dogs and my Mama.

God found me. I remembered one verse. "Be still and know that I am God."

I began to pray. Actually, I didn't even pray, I just talked to God like an old friend. Slowly, life flooded back into my heart and I realized how cold it had been for years. Every day I talked to God. Every day I felt myself thaw a little more. Every day I cried and those tears cleared my eyes. I needed God more than anything else.

I still took my medicine and I still take it now. I thank God for my medicine and no matter how good I feel I will not stop taking it. That medicine is a gift from Him to allow me to function in this world. I am grateful to have it.

I still think about my first husband. I hope that he has turned to God, too. I hope that he has joy in his life. I pray for him daily. He was more than a good friend. We spent 10 years together, dating and married. I truly hope he has peace and love in his life.

I know I do.

Unconditionally

I really should be in bed.

I'm still sick. I'm on better meds now but I'm still recovering. All of the doctors tell you to push fluids and get as much rest as possible. That would be easy if I didn't have three young children.

Tomorrow I have to get up early, pack three different bags, take Ben to work, take Sophie to school, take Milly to my sister's and then try to get Gideon into the pediatrician.

Instead of going to sleep, I'm up thinking angry thoughts. Tired, weepy, frustrated, overwhelmed thoughts.

I will never be able to live up to everyone's expectations. I'm always going to disappoint someone. I have to be OK with that. I have to know that there is only One that will ever love me no matter what. I can never be too stupid, too needy, too wrong for God.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Please, God, let me believe this.