So a few weeks ago, I wrote about how I was thinking about something but was not sure I was able to write about it. I actually spent a whole blog post avoiding the subject. But I sort of opened the door with my last blog post.
When I was 8 my mom was 30. Until then she was a great mom. She was always there. She played games with us. She read books to us. She took us to the park and to church. She was happy and fun. There was no hint that her world, and thus our worlds, were about to fall apart.
I have heard that depression often does not show up until a woman is in her 30s. And that has worried me. I struggled with depression in my early 20s. I also ended up with chronic fatigue syndrome. I think both were part of me breaking free and healing after growing up in my house. My body and mind seemed to just need a break.
At some point in my mid 20s when I decided to have kids, I decided to stop taking the low dose antidepressant I was on. I have not had to take any depression medications since.
But there is a part of me that still wonders if I will eventually be taken over by the depression that runs in my DNA. I worry when I get down. I don't like feeling the winter blahs because I worry that they are just a slippery slope leading me into becoming severely depressed and unable to be there for my kids.
I wonder at times if I am just living in denial and I am really depressed. But then I look at my life and realize that I am not staying in bed all day, well unless it is Christmas break and we are just enjoying a lazy day at home.
I may cry too easily at the American Airlines commercial with the soldier being saluted by the elderly vet. And I don't like to cry too easily because I don't want my emotions to dictate my life. But they don't. I am still able to think and act rationally beyond my emotions.
I guess I won't really know until I get to the end of my life if depression will someday take over my life. I have made it almost all the way through my 30s and it hasn't so far. I have had three babies and while I had the baby blues with the first one, I never struggled with post partem depression. I can be sad without falling into a dark pit. I can be overwhelmed without shutting down. I can suffer the winter blues but when the sun comes out my innermost sparks with joy.
Maybe I will not be taken over by my DNA. Or maybe the decisions I have made, the work I did in college with a therapist, and God's hand on my life will keep me safe. I don't know. I just know that I don't want my kids to have the childhood I had. I don't want them to have to worry about their depressed Mommy.
That is my big dark secret place I try to avoid. The worry that I will become depressed like my mom. Do you have a dark place you don't like to go?
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
When I Was 8...
I remember coming home from a playdate at my friend's house. I am sure I had spent the afternoon roller skating because that was our favorite thing to do when we were 8. I remember my Dad meeting me at the door and telling me that my mom was in the hospital. I don't remember the details. I don't remember what words were used to tell me that my mom had attempted to kill herself but I did know that was what had happened. I did know that she tried to overdose on the antidepressants she took. I also knew that she had survived but was very sick. I was 8 years old.
I remember visiting her either that evening or the next day in the hospital. We had to wait until the breathing tube was removed. I think it was just me and her. I don't remember my brothers being there but maybe they were. I remember her telling me that she decided she had to live for me, her daughter. She didn't want to leave me with the legacy that her mother left her when my grandmother did overdose and die when my mom was 15. I am my mom's only daughter. The daughter she had to live for and get healthy for. I was 8 years old.
I remember driving an hour away to visit her in the mental hospital where she was transferred and lived for a month. I remember her not wanting to visit with us so it took a while before we could go down. I don't remember much about visiting her in the mental hospital. I do remember one of my parent's close friends flying out to help take care of us. I think my Dad had to learn how to do girl's hair but maybe not. I might have just done it myself. I was 8 years old.
Eventually my mom came home. She continued in therapy and taking the medications that to this day keep her from going into that scary, dark place. I remember learning about her Dad's abusive actions and some really creepy things. I remember her going back into the mental hospital for another month when I was starting my freshman year of high school. A time when I needed a mom to help me figure out this new school, a school where I knew no one because we had moved that summer. I remember my Dad and brothers coming to my soccer games that fall. I was 14 years old.
Eventually I went away to college, a college only an hour away, but for me a place where I could be me, not my mother's daughter. It was the first time I could make decisions and plan my life for myself without considering my mom's needs. It was a place where I could breathe. Where the drama of college life was easy compared to the stress of living in my family home. But then in February, I got a call that my mom had gone off to a mental health facility again and my Dad needed me to come home on the weekends and help him care for the foster kids they had living with them. I was 18 years old.
I have a lot of memories of my mom's mental illness taking over my life, and not just my life, but the important milestone moments of my life. I understand and know that she was sick. Mental illness for her is like diabetes. It is a lifelong struggle that requires medication and lifestyle adjustments to manage. I understand that. I am now an adult. I can understand grown up things.
What I don't understand are the behavior choices she makes. I don't understand them. But I do have to deal with them. I do have to respond in a grace filled way that first and foremost protects my boys. I will not let them live with this legacy. I think that is part of the itch I have been feeling. I am not sure how long I can protect my kids sweet hearts and minds living so close to her.
Hockey Boy is 8 years old this year. And he will not have to worry about his Mom or any other grown up. He will be able to be an 8 year old boy.
I remember visiting her either that evening or the next day in the hospital. We had to wait until the breathing tube was removed. I think it was just me and her. I don't remember my brothers being there but maybe they were. I remember her telling me that she decided she had to live for me, her daughter. She didn't want to leave me with the legacy that her mother left her when my grandmother did overdose and die when my mom was 15. I am my mom's only daughter. The daughter she had to live for and get healthy for. I was 8 years old.
I remember driving an hour away to visit her in the mental hospital where she was transferred and lived for a month. I remember her not wanting to visit with us so it took a while before we could go down. I don't remember much about visiting her in the mental hospital. I do remember one of my parent's close friends flying out to help take care of us. I think my Dad had to learn how to do girl's hair but maybe not. I might have just done it myself. I was 8 years old.
Eventually my mom came home. She continued in therapy and taking the medications that to this day keep her from going into that scary, dark place. I remember learning about her Dad's abusive actions and some really creepy things. I remember her going back into the mental hospital for another month when I was starting my freshman year of high school. A time when I needed a mom to help me figure out this new school, a school where I knew no one because we had moved that summer. I remember my Dad and brothers coming to my soccer games that fall. I was 14 years old.
Eventually I went away to college, a college only an hour away, but for me a place where I could be me, not my mother's daughter. It was the first time I could make decisions and plan my life for myself without considering my mom's needs. It was a place where I could breathe. Where the drama of college life was easy compared to the stress of living in my family home. But then in February, I got a call that my mom had gone off to a mental health facility again and my Dad needed me to come home on the weekends and help him care for the foster kids they had living with them. I was 18 years old.
I have a lot of memories of my mom's mental illness taking over my life, and not just my life, but the important milestone moments of my life. I understand and know that she was sick. Mental illness for her is like diabetes. It is a lifelong struggle that requires medication and lifestyle adjustments to manage. I understand that. I am now an adult. I can understand grown up things.
What I don't understand are the behavior choices she makes. I don't understand them. But I do have to deal with them. I do have to respond in a grace filled way that first and foremost protects my boys. I will not let them live with this legacy. I think that is part of the itch I have been feeling. I am not sure how long I can protect my kids sweet hearts and minds living so close to her.
Hockey Boy is 8 years old this year. And he will not have to worry about his Mom or any other grown up. He will be able to be an 8 year old boy.
Monday, January 3, 2011
The Itch
It has been almost two years now that we have been back in the state where the boys were born. I used to dream of moving back home when we lived in California. I dreamed of a simpler life, where my husband came home at a decent time and houses cost less than a million dollars. I loved reuniting with my friends, my church, my life. I loved being known and running into people all over town. I love knowing that people are looking out for my kids where ever they are, even when I am not with them. This is a great place to raise a family.
It is a great place to live, unless you like the sun because for six months out of the year sunny days are so rare that they become an event. This week has been amazingly sunny and we are all celebrating. But I just l looked at the weather on my phone and it appears the rain is starting just as we send our kids back to school. Ugghh. I am not sure I can survive another wet, wet, wet winter.
And so the itch begins. The itch that hits just before we make it to our two year anniversary in any location. The itch that causes me to start looking at real estate in far off lands online and watching House Hunters International and my new favorite, Selling New York.
Selling New York is one great show, a show that let's me drool over Manhattan apartments. I believe I was made to live in New York City. A place where you can order any kind of food you want and have you delivered to your door so you can eat in your pajamas. A place where museums and sporting events are plentiful and the library is a historic and grand. A place with a Starbucks on every corner and cozy little restaurants. I was made for New York City and not the NYC of Sex and the City because really I don't like to dress up or go to fancy dinner parties. The New York of public transport and hanging at coffee shops and dressing in all black. The New York on anonymity and broadway plays. In my head, I was made for New York City. My husband though was not. He never plans to live there and since I plan to live with him forever, New York will have to stay in my dreams.
So while I will never live in Manhattan, I still have the itch. The itch to move. I am not sure why I like moving. It might be the excitement which after marriage and having babies is about as life changing as it gets. It might be the sweet goodbyes where you find out how people really feel about you because other than funerals moving is one of those few times when we really tell people how much they mean to us. It might be the anonymity of a new place that let's me sit back and take a break from serving and volunteering. It might just be that I have commitment issues.
But the itch is there. My husband has mentioned wanting to move to his home state someday. So I am on Zillow looking at houses there. I like the idea of moving to Michigan because it brings us closer to his family. I like the idea of family. We used to have family here that helped with the kids but that has changed. It feels like we are alone here and I really want my kids to grow up with people adoring on them. They are awfully adorable!
I have a friend that moved to Colorado a year ago and from reading her Facebook status updates it sounds amazing. I researched both schools and hockey and both sound great there. I also hear it is sunny most of the time there. Cold but sunny which I like. I am a better person when it is sunny.
The itch is there. But what to do with the itch? Where are we supposed to be? For now I know it is here. We really do love our life here and come July when the sun comes out for more than a short visit I am sure I will be telling everyone how wonderful life is here.
It is a great place to live, unless you like the sun because for six months out of the year sunny days are so rare that they become an event. This week has been amazingly sunny and we are all celebrating. But I just l looked at the weather on my phone and it appears the rain is starting just as we send our kids back to school. Ugghh. I am not sure I can survive another wet, wet, wet winter.
And so the itch begins. The itch that hits just before we make it to our two year anniversary in any location. The itch that causes me to start looking at real estate in far off lands online and watching House Hunters International and my new favorite, Selling New York.
Selling New York is one great show, a show that let's me drool over Manhattan apartments. I believe I was made to live in New York City. A place where you can order any kind of food you want and have you delivered to your door so you can eat in your pajamas. A place where museums and sporting events are plentiful and the library is a historic and grand. A place with a Starbucks on every corner and cozy little restaurants. I was made for New York City and not the NYC of Sex and the City because really I don't like to dress up or go to fancy dinner parties. The New York of public transport and hanging at coffee shops and dressing in all black. The New York on anonymity and broadway plays. In my head, I was made for New York City. My husband though was not. He never plans to live there and since I plan to live with him forever, New York will have to stay in my dreams.
So while I will never live in Manhattan, I still have the itch. The itch to move. I am not sure why I like moving. It might be the excitement which after marriage and having babies is about as life changing as it gets. It might be the sweet goodbyes where you find out how people really feel about you because other than funerals moving is one of those few times when we really tell people how much they mean to us. It might be the anonymity of a new place that let's me sit back and take a break from serving and volunteering. It might just be that I have commitment issues.
But the itch is there. My husband has mentioned wanting to move to his home state someday. So I am on Zillow looking at houses there. I like the idea of moving to Michigan because it brings us closer to his family. I like the idea of family. We used to have family here that helped with the kids but that has changed. It feels like we are alone here and I really want my kids to grow up with people adoring on them. They are awfully adorable!
I have a friend that moved to Colorado a year ago and from reading her Facebook status updates it sounds amazing. I researched both schools and hockey and both sound great there. I also hear it is sunny most of the time there. Cold but sunny which I like. I am a better person when it is sunny.
The itch is there. But what to do with the itch? Where are we supposed to be? For now I know it is here. We really do love our life here and come July when the sun comes out for more than a short visit I am sure I will be telling everyone how wonderful life is here.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The Knowledge of Good and Evil
Wow. December really got the better of me. At least as far as blogging goes. It was actually a rather quiet month but in our house it has been loud. We like to say it is because we have three boys but we have friends with even more boys and their house is quieter. So I am thinking at some point we have to admit it is probably our parenting, our letting the boys be loud. For the most part I tune out the noise. At least I think I do, but the noise creeps in and pushes any real thoughts out. And yet, here I am. Blogging. With a thought to share.
I am reading through the Bible again this year but with a larger group of women from our church and also with some friends on Facebook and anywhere else I can pick up another reader. And since I am one of the leaders I thought I had better actually start on time and get my reading done tonight. We are going to read chronologically this time which I think will be fun. So today, January 1st we start at the very beginning.... a very good place to start.
As I was reading the creation story, a story I am very, very familiar with, I was struck by something new. This is why I love reading the Bible just as it is without study questions or looking for a theme or a point.
Today I was struck by Genesis 3:6 - 7 which says,
They ate the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and suddenly they realized they were naked. They had been naked the whole time. They had never felt a need for clothes before. Genesis 2:25 says, "And the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed." But then they ate the fruit of knowledge and suddenly not only were they aware that they were naked but they had to cover themselves in some way. How weird that must have been to be perfectly happy as you were and then in one quick moment become disenchanted, afraid and ashamed.
I have noticed this same phenomenon recently with my boys. They are perfectly happy with life and then something clicks in them and they become afraid of things that never used to bother them. They go from being able to sleep in the dark with their door closed to wanting almost all the lights on in the house before they can walk upstairs. Little One keeps asking me if monsters live in our town. He is very concerned about monsters all of the sudden. I keep telling him no, monsters don't live in our state. But I know the truth. I am older. I am wiser. And I know that monsters really exist.
How I wish I could go back to the time before I knew. Before I knew that there is a reason we are scared of the dark, that people do die from illnesses or accidents. Before I knew that some people are just plain mean. I wish I could go back to before I had eaten of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
I am sure Adam and Eve felt that way. I am sure they wanted to turn back the clocks to a time without worry, without embarrassment without fear. As we read at the end of Genesis 3, Adam and Eve had not eaten of the tree of life. They had no need. They did not know death. They had plenty of food to eat. They did not have a desire to live forever because they knew nothing but life. And now because they knew, God drove them out of the garden of Eden so they could never eat of the tree of life and live forever.
I am reading through the Bible again this year but with a larger group of women from our church and also with some friends on Facebook and anywhere else I can pick up another reader. And since I am one of the leaders I thought I had better actually start on time and get my reading done tonight. We are going to read chronologically this time which I think will be fun. So today, January 1st we start at the very beginning.... a very good place to start.
As I was reading the creation story, a story I am very, very familiar with, I was struck by something new. This is why I love reading the Bible just as it is without study questions or looking for a theme or a point.
Today I was struck by Genesis 3:6 - 7 which says,
"So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths."
They ate the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and suddenly they realized they were naked. They had been naked the whole time. They had never felt a need for clothes before. Genesis 2:25 says, "And the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed." But then they ate the fruit of knowledge and suddenly not only were they aware that they were naked but they had to cover themselves in some way. How weird that must have been to be perfectly happy as you were and then in one quick moment become disenchanted, afraid and ashamed.
I have noticed this same phenomenon recently with my boys. They are perfectly happy with life and then something clicks in them and they become afraid of things that never used to bother them. They go from being able to sleep in the dark with their door closed to wanting almost all the lights on in the house before they can walk upstairs. Little One keeps asking me if monsters live in our town. He is very concerned about monsters all of the sudden. I keep telling him no, monsters don't live in our state. But I know the truth. I am older. I am wiser. And I know that monsters really exist.
How I wish I could go back to the time before I knew. Before I knew that there is a reason we are scared of the dark, that people do die from illnesses or accidents. Before I knew that some people are just plain mean. I wish I could go back to before I had eaten of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
I am sure Adam and Eve felt that way. I am sure they wanted to turn back the clocks to a time without worry, without embarrassment without fear. As we read at the end of Genesis 3, Adam and Eve had not eaten of the tree of life. They had no need. They did not know death. They had plenty of food to eat. They did not have a desire to live forever because they knew nothing but life. And now because they knew, God drove them out of the garden of Eden so they could never eat of the tree of life and live forever.
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