I am the 1%

There's been a lot of talk in the media this year about the 99% and the 1%.

 I am the 1%, but I'm not rich and this isn't about taxes.

Those two numbers?  We've heard them before.  Matthew 18 and Luke 15, in the New Testament.  A man has 100 sheep and one gets lost.  99 are just fine, and safe, but one is wandering lost and afraid.  Wouldn't that man go in search of the one that is lost?  Isn't that one just as important as the other 99?

I think I'm going to form a club; Mormons with Mental Illness.  Sometimes we're lost and sometimes we're found.  Our testimonies come and go.  Darkness envelopes us as often as the light does, maybe more so.

Or maybe I can't speak for everyone with a mental illness, maybe I should only speak for myself.  After all, I'm referring to myself as the "one" that is lost.

I don't really fit in.  I make public mistakes, I am so outspoken that I hurt people's feelings, I avoid opportunities for service because I'm afraid I'll fail or let someone down, or I just don't have the energy to get out of bed to do them.  I can be sacrilegious and hypocritical in public, and then I berate myself in private for not being perfect.  Sometimes I'm proud to speak about how my illness has actually strengthened me, but most times I'm ashamed of it, as if it were something I brought on myself through personal choices.

I've had powerful spiritual experiences that have strengthened me, uplifted me, and sustained me through some very dark moments, and years.  I've also embraced the fear, anger, resentment, bitterness, sadness, and hopelessness that presses in on me every day and I've pulled the covers back over my head and shut out the light because I didn't want it, even though it wanted me.

During all the media coverage over these past months talking about the divide in our country, and the 99% vs. the 1%, I've thought of this parable in the scriptures EVERY time.  I can't hear those two numbers together without thinking of the Savior.  Knowing myself to be the one that is lost, and sometimes the one that chooses to be lost and stay lost, it's been good for me to have these constant reminders, coming to me in a very unusual way.  It's good for me to be reminded that the Savior is always looking for me, waiting for me, preparing to help me even if I come back injured or broken.  Even when I don't want Him to find me, He won't stop looking.

Today I feel found, but there's a good chance I'll run away from home again tomorrow.  Thank goodness He knows my favorite places to hide.

Love this post, it is so sweet and sad at the same time.

Kinda describes all of August & September for me.

Cool quote

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."
- Kahlil Gibran


Maybe someday I'll have massive character, or feel strong.

oh, it gets worse.

I've been off Paxil now for over two weeks. I've been stepping down my doses slowly for the past year, finally down to 5 mg. every other day. Two weeks clean.

And NOW my withdrawal symptoms are starting.

I get horrible headaches that come in short bursts, it feels like little electrified pebbles bouncing around inside my skull. There's a rushing sound like wind or water in my ears. I'm edgy and anxious and stressed and moody and angry.

I would usually get these headaches when I missed one dose, so why did this take two weeks to get worse?

I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping, I just can't get drowsy. I got out of bed the other night at 12:00 AM and emptied my cupboards and reorganized the pantry. It's not like I sleep all day either, I should be tired at the end of the day like everyone else, but I'm not. My sleep habits and patterns are irregular.

My five year old daughter told me tonight, "Mom... just remember what I told you last time. Just close your eyes, lay down, and sleep will come. It always works for me."

I wish that always worked for me. I'm feeling so crappy right now I can hardly stand it.

My behavior has been so erratic that it's scaring my kids. Ember called Austin at work this week and tattled on me, and my behavior. He was worried enough to come home. Now he's working from home until school starts again.

I NEVER want to meet his boss, because he knows some pretty horrible things about me. He's also done some pretty amazing things for Austin so he can be here for me when I need it. Silver lining, I guess.

Next week I'll start a new drug and play around with doses and frequency for awhile, and it has greater side effects that the others I've tried.

What kind of mother am I? My kids were afraid of me this week. I got angry about cracker crumbs on the floor and flipped out.

Now I'm seeing a therapist in addition to my psychiatrist. The co-pays and prescriptions are getting to be such a burden, not to mention the time commitments and struggle to find babysitters so mom can try and get well.

My kids always forgive me, and they're just getting old enough to understand why this happens sometimes. I don't understand why it's worse sometimes than others. I wish that this was pneumonia and I could take an anti-biotic and be cured, but it isn't. This is my life, this illness.

It'll get better again, it always does, I'm just angry tonight because the symptoms are getting worse and not better.

I'm going to try and take the advice of little Grace, and just close my eyes and maybe sleep will come. Then tomorrow I'll take my pills, say my prayers, and try to get through another day.

Depression strikes again

I've been feeling really low lately. I try to keep my posts on my blog upbeat and positive, filling it with pictures and Gracisms, but I'm just not feeling it lately. My posts haven't been reflecting how I really feel. My depression hasn't been getting better, it's been getting worse. I've reached the point where I feel done with life, I want out. My kids don't bring me joy, marriage is too complicated and requires constant effort, finances and work and chores and responsibilities and church are all just too much to handle. I just want to stay in bed and sleep all day, every day.

The only reason I post this is because for people who read my blog might think that things are always good, and always funny. That's a real form of therapy for me, to fake it and try to find some bright spots. Today I just don't want to fake it anymore.

My son was baptized last night and I didn't enjoy it. I feel so horrible for that, but the spirit just isn't getting through. I'm viewing everything through a fog of hopelessness. And now I just feel like a complainer, because life is hard for everyone. But isn't there supposed to be some joy mixed in with the trials? Aren't men (and women) here to have joy?

I'm a medical guinea pig again, playing around with medication. My psychiatrist also wants me to see a separate therapist, which means more babysitters and co-pays. I just don't know how much more of this I can take.

Sorry to be such a wet blanket, but blogs are deceiving... life isn't always funny, it's really hard sometimes. Right now it's harder for me than normal. Maybe after I fill my next prescription I'll be back to writing something funny that Grace said or did.

Mother's Day and Women's Conference: part 6

Happy Mother's Day to all you Mom's out there!

The kids got me this plaque for Mother's Day. I was admiring it about a week ago in Deseret Book, and Ember told Austin to get it for me :) It makes me smile :)

I normally don't like Mother's Day, but today wasn't so bad. The kids DID start fighting within 30 minutes of me waking up, but they tried to do better.


Back to Women's Conference: I attended a class entitled "Exchanging Guilt for Inspiration" and I learned one important thing about guilt.

Pain is the body's alarm system that something is wrong, and DON'T do that again. Guilt is the spirit's alarm system that something is wrong, and don't do that again. It is unhealthy to hang onto or endure either one for too long.

With my disease, I do have a tendency to hang onto a lot of guilt. I've messed up quite a bit because I wasn't in my right mind, and then when sanity was restored I regretted the things I'd said or done. I still carry a heavy burden of guilt for those things. I hope I can remind myself often that hanging onto the guilt is detrimental to my spirit. This class was important for me.

There's also two more quotes I want to share from another class, and then I think this may be the last Women's Conference post.

"Replace the question 'why' with 'what am I to do with this?' and you'll find you get a lot more answers."

"God does not give us what we can handle, He helps us handle what we are given."


Women's Conference is incredible every year, and this year was no exception. I am so grateful I was able to go and I'm already looking forward to next year.

Inspiring: Women's Conference part 3

I attended a class on Thursday entitled "Have Miracles Ceased; recognizing the Lord's hand in our lives." It was a fantastic class with speakers bearing testimony of incredible miracles.

Lynne Zabroskie shared the story of her husband who, 20 years ago, was skiing and was hit broadside by another boat. Her prayers for his recovery were continually answered, despite the doctors opinions that he would die. She told the Lord that she was willing to bear any physical burdens, as long as her husband's mind would be intact. Her prayers were answered.

She testified that miracles have not ceased. They may not be as obvious or as public as the miracle of healing her husband experienced, but they are just as real and personal to us. Her husband Craig got up and bore his testimony next. He couldn't use the right side of his body and walked with a heavy limp. His speech was impaired, but his mind was intact.

He made one very significant statement that may very well be my favorite quote from the entire conference.

"Trials are mandatory. Misery is a choice."

No one is exempt from the trials of mortality, we all have them. How we endure them is up to us, which is why we are counseled to endure it well. In my own life I have been called to endure mental illness. Often times my ability to endure it well has been hampered by the disease itself, which is where the miracles come in.

* Mental Illness has not destroyed my marriage, but made it stronger
* My children are compassionate and forgiving
* My children are independent and self-sufficient
* My faith in my Savior has been continually intensified as I recognize and draw upon the healing that only He can offer, to my body and to my mind.

These are just a few. Miracles have not ceased, I see them every day. I can testify that this is undeniably true. I was inspired by this talk and this particular class was probably my favorite.

Now some photos.

Snow.

My lovely tulips.

Tulips covered in snow!

That's ok, they come from Holland so they can handle it. It was 80 degrees in Provo the week before the conference, the snow took everyone by surprise. It was a welcome change from the 90 degree weather I left behind in Mesa.

I feel better

It's been heavily documented that close proximity to my mother elevates my mood. I need to find a way to bottle that and take it with me.

I got up on time, showered and got dressed up, ran some errands, clipped some coupons, did some dishes and did some house cleaning. Then I went to work and had an awesome night, my production numbers rocked. On my lunch break I went downstairs to use the gym and spent 30 minutes working out. Doing lunges in heels really kicks your butt. I only got a little sweaty in my work clothes.

THIS folks, is what we call bi-polar disorder at it's finest. I may as well appreciate the good while I still have it.

Wheee!!!

Am I screwing this up?

I have a picture hanging up in my bedroom with an amazing quote:

"The shaping of a child's faith and character is one of our most sacred stewardships."

My oldest is a pre-teen, a baptized member of the church and starting to ask some real questions. My son will be baptized this year and I think he is prepared, but I honestly don't know. My baby girl, the one who saved me from my deepest and scariest depression, is turning five and going to Kindergarten. She won't sit still for a prayer unless it's her turn to pray, but we're making progress.

My baby girl just crawled into my bed after having a nightmare. I'm watching her breathe and contemplating how miraculous it is that she's mine. And one of my deepest fears, the ones that manifest themselves at 1:30 in the morning, is that I'm screwing this up.

Am I teaching my kids all that they will need in order to survive in this chaotic world? Or am I teaching them that when life gets hard, lock yourself in your bedroom with your laptop and wait until it goes away?

Am I helping them recognize the spirit, foster their own faith and testimonies, and arming them with vital gospel principles? Or am I skipping Family Home Evenings because by the end of the day I am out of the mental energy it would take to encourage them to sit still for just a MOMENT and listen to something important?

My kids seem happy (except when they all want the same toy). They go to church, even when I don't, because of my amazing husband. They are learning most of the scripture stories from faithful primary teachers who truly care about my kids. And I'm afraid that I will be judged for not being the one who is doing those things.

My disease is just an excuse. I'm on medication, I'm seeing a psychiatrist, I'm in more control that I let on, and yet I continue to fail at the one thing that is my most sacred stewardship. Or at least I'm afraid that I'm failing. My tears are falling on my daughters hair as I lay next to her because I'm afraid that I'm not good enough for her.

I'm sure that every mother has these moments, and they're scary. I can only pray to be worthy of them and express humble and sincere gratitude for the village that is helping me raise them.

Thanks for listening, I think I can go to sleep now.

Even Mommy needs her mommy sometimes.

Over the course of the last 18 months or so has Jill has been struggling with various and sundry trials--some of epic proportion. During this time period when the kids have asked "what's wrong with mommy?" I have told the kids that "even mommies need their mommies sometimes".

This week has been one of those times.

As mentioned in other posts on our blog, Jill has recently "gone under the knife" and had a couple medical procedures done. These, however, didn't actually involve any knives. They did, however, involve anesthesia and heavy pain killers; not to mention down time for recovery.

I was able to take two vacation days for each of these procedures. The first, however, also ended up needing a sick day too so I could be here longer.

She seemed to be recovering more quickly after her second "surgery" than the first. This was good. We were pleased. Then, all of a sudden, her back decided it was going to go on vacation--by itself.

This was not a "take a load off and put your feet up" vacation, it was more of a "sorry, I'm leaving you to fend for yourself; and good luck surviving without me" vacation. She was basically bed ridden and immobile for several days.

I had been doing the best I could to keep up with the house while she was totally down and out (many times literally out). However, let's face it....I am a man. There's only so much I can do.

I couldn't keep up on all the laundry. (There's only so much laundry that can be done on Saturdays when I'm home all day.) I did manage to keep us with clean dishes to use--that's not to say all the dishes were clean, just that we had some clean dishes to eat off of. Speaking of eating, I had to also ensure everyone did that too.

Long (messy) story short, I couldn't keep up.

So what's the point of all this? Am I just complaining? Airing my grievances? Explaining why my children looked the way they did? (Does that kid ever wash their face?) Oh wait, I know. How 'bout looking for sympathy?

Well, no.

Actually, this is more like one of those thank-you-mom-for-coming-to-the-rescue-because-I-was-losing-it-and-don't-know-how-much-longer-I-could-hold-on posts.


Yes, the point is I want to send a BIG THANK YOU to Jill's mother, Janet.


Last week I was just chatting with her and happened to ask her if she knew about Jill's back. After a bit more discussion she offered to come over and help.

Now for those who don't know, "coming over" doesn't just mean hopping in the car and driving a few miles to spend a few hours assisting. No, in her case it actually means getting a substitute for early morning seminary, doing her husband's laundry and preparing meals for him for while she's gone, packing a suitcase, and driving for six hours. Janet lives in Orange County, California.

That's right, she put her life completely on hold to come to Arizona to help her daughter and her family.

While here she did laundry, dishes, laundry, dishes...(you get the idea), shopping, cleaning, entertaining (and occasionaly disciplining) children, cleaning bathrooms (yes, plural). She was so incredibly helpful. She went walking early in the morning with her friends who live in our neighborhood. And, like a true grandmother, she even made time to visit all the other grandkids and their parents while here.

I know I speak for both Jill and I when I say that when I grow up, I want to be like her. Janet has always shown Christ-like love. She is one of the most caring people I know. She does all this service for one reason and one reason only: because she loves us. She saw a need and took action. Tell me that's not why Jesus Christ did all that He did for you, me, and everyone else. He loves us.

Yes, when I grow up I want to be both able and willing to drop what I am doing to fill the need of someone else. Janet is an example of the believers; she epitomizes Christ-like love.

James writes in the New Testament of showing his faith by his works. "[S]hew me thy [love] without thy works, and I will shew thee my [love] by my works." Janet has definitely done this.

Mom, thank you for coming over.

Thank you for all you did for us.

Thank you for being an example.

We love you.

My list of things to do just got a lot smaller...

As I may have previously mentioned, I love to write. I love journals. My current fave is my "therapy" journal. Everyone should have one. No, seriously.

My goal is to write a list of my accomplishments for the day (with some witty commentary). Today's list was the bomb! (whatever that means). There were 50 things on my list! Did you catch that? Fif-teeee! I was thinking that this must be what other "normal" moms do, just plug along all day long taking care of EVERYTHING. There was no burst of energy, just the slow and steady tortoise. I sat here pondering, at 2:00 in the morning, why that may be. My previous record was 23.

Here's what I came up with:
I'm doing the opposite of nesting.
What's that you say? Nesting? Isn't that what pregnant women do?
Why yes, it is. That's why I did the opposite.
I cleaned my house from top to bottom. Organized cupboards, swept and mopped floors, scrubbed toothpaste off the mirror and walls, threw out expired medications, maxed out our recycle barrel (is there a weight limit?), along with a few other things.
50... did I mention that?

So, back to the opposite of nesting.
As my friend Emily puts it, I'm getting spayed :)
That's right folks, the tubes are being tied and this baby making factory is being closed down for good.
I'll be out of commission for a day or two, so I guess I was just preparing my house for the absence of Mom.
Of course, I'm absent a lot of the time anyway.
Emotionally I mean.
And sometimes physically, I guess.
Don't judge :)

I got my house in order so that I can be made 'out of order'.
hahahahaha! (well, I thought it was funny)

The big day (my due date?) is Tuesday, January 22.
Any procedure is risky because of my Crohn's disease, it can cause a flare up (which is kinda why I'm doing this in the first place) but it needs to be done. My health can't handle any more kiddos.
Who are we kidding, neither can my sanity.

Wish me luck.

Journaling

Anyone who knows me knows how much I love journals. I have about 15 volumes filled from BEFORE I got married, and who knows how many since?

I also have journals in every room of the house that aren't even written in yet. If it's got a cute cover, and blissfully unlined pages waiting for my thoughts to be written, I buy it. I can't help myself. I brought one home from the store last week and my daughter said, "ANOTHER journal? Did you already finish writing in the last one?" Well, no. But I'm halfway there and you never know when you're going to run out of pages and need a new one at a moments notice!

My current project is my therapy journals. I write every single day (been going for 4 months now without missing once) and I have to make a list of the things I accomplished for the day, or the things I'm proud of doing. I CANNOT make a list of my failures or disappointments. Some days the list consists of 1)waking up, and 2)writing in my journal. That's it, the end. Some days I fill the whole page and I feel like super-Mom.

Yesterday's entry looked like this:


I couldn't write anything negative, it's against the rules. And I couldn't think of anything else to say. Poignant, isn't it? Who needs words to describe how you feel?

are you kidding me?!?!

Work kicked my trash tonight. I wrote about it on my journal blog, which is private, because some swearing may have been involved. What's the point in doing your best if you still get dumped on by someone you trust? By a supervisor who values you (or used to)?

So much for motivation. Mediocrity is my new goal, mundane attitude and participation my new battle cry. Bring on the flowered wallpaper, I'll fade right in!

Life stinks right now. :P...

This is me

This is me.

I LOVE things that sparkle.

I love to dress up, I'm a real girly girl.

A good high heeled shoe makes my heart go pitter-patter.


A splash of perfume is exciting.


But mostly? I'm a flip flop wearing, freckle faced,
t-shirt and jeans kinda country girl.



And I'm damn proud of that.

Hi, I'm still here. Depressed as all get out, wondering why life is so hard, wishing I could "pause the game" as my kids say and take a seriously long time out from... everything.

I'll be back to blogging when I find things funny again.

I only have 12 followers :(

That's ok, it's quality and not quantity that matters :)

This is me being bi-polar.... :( and :) in one post!!!

A friend of mine told me this song reminds her of Austin and I...

"Her Diamonds" by Rob Thomas, my new favorite song.

Oh what the hell she says
I just can't win for losing
And she lays back down
Man there's so many times
I don't know what I’m doin'
Like I don't know now

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Says it's funny how the night
Can make you blind
I can just imagine
And I don't know what I’m supposed to do
But if she feels bad then I do too
So I let her be

And she says oooh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cuz I can't help her now
She’s down in it
She tried her best and now she can't win it's
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She sits down and stares into the distance
And it takes all night
And I know I could break her concentration
But it don't feel right

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
[ Rob Thomas Lyrics are found on www.songlyrics.com ]
Sits down on the bed and starts to cry
And there's something less about her
And I don't know what I’m supposed to do
So I sit down and I cry too
And don't let her see

And she says oooh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cuz I can't help her now
She’s down in it
She tried her best and now she can't win it's
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She shuts out the night
Tries to close her eyes
If she can find daylight
She’ll be all right
She’ll be all right
Just not tonight

And she says oooh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cuz I can't help her now
She’s down in it
She tried her best and now she can't win it's
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down




He could not have written this song unless he loves someone with depression, it's just too understanding. He must know how it feels from the outside, like Austin does. I know what it feels like on the inside.

The status of my brain...

An update on my mental health, which has been a little wacky for the past six months.

To my church:
Sorry I haven't been coming all that often, the lessons were confusing and frustrating and I felt like they didn't apply to me. Sometimes I felt like I was being punished for not living the gospel better, and being around everyone else who was doing ok was causing anxiety attacks. I'm feeling better, and I'd like to visit again soon. Thanks for believing in me and sending angels in disguise with gift baskets, cards, cookies, and visiting teaching lessons.

To my kids:
Sorry that mom flipped out and locked herself in her room for months. Sorry I didn't check your homework, made sure you brushed your teeth, tucked you in at bedtime and sang you your 'pillow songs'. Thanks for telling me that I'm doing my best and you love me more than any other mom in the world. I love you guys more than you'll ever understand, until you have kids of your own someday. Thanks for your forgiveness when I picked myself back up and asked you to let me be your mom again. You guys rock.

To my husband:
Wow... sorry for everything? I know that mental illness is my major trial in this life, the cross that I have to carry. Being married to me is yours. Thanks for ignoring my outbursts of anger and not engaging in fights that I tried to start. Thanks for forgiving me when I turned the running of the entire household over to you and your already burdened schedule. Thanks for taking vacation days from work so I could go on vacations by myself, go to therapy, or lock myself in my room. Thanks for being optimistic about getting us out of all the debt I created when I thought buying things would make me feel better. Thanks for telling me I'm beautiful, even when I've worn the same clothes for 3 days and haven't showered. Thanks for praying with me, and for me, and expressing gratitude for me in those prayers. Thanks for loving me unconditionally. Thanks for your humor, patience, forgiveness, strength, and example. I love you more today than I ever did when I first had a crush on you in 8th grade, more than the day we got married, & more than the day we first became parents.

To my boss (who will never read this):
The old Jill is gone. You were supportive of me and my struggles, you told me to take my time and not worry about my productivity being down. During my therapy you said that you really want 'your Jill' back, the one you remember from before my 'crash.' (That's a lot of parenthesis...) I need to tell you that the old Jill isn't coming back. One of the things that made me crash was the need to be perfect at everything I did, including my work. I was your highest achiever, your hardest worker. Now I'm comfortable with mediocre. I do the best that I can, and let the rest of it go. If I'm going to be the best at anything it's going to be as a wife and mother. Thanks for your support, your patience and even your prayers, but the new Jill is here to stay. Get used to it.

To my puppies:
I wouldn't have made it without you girls! Dogs are the best therapy, I will shout that from the rooftops until the day I die. They love unconditionally, forgive immediately, don't talk back or argue, are there at a moments notice when you need them, and snuggle when you don't want to be alone but can't talk to anyone either. They understood my moods before I did, which I still don't understand.

To myself:
I still feel like a failure some days, but go back and make a list of your successes! I am getting up every day. I am making dinner for my family. I am doing crafts, reading books, and just started gardening. I am tucking my kids in and reading them stories and singing them songs. I am washing and folding laundry, scrubbing toilets, and mopping the spilled lemonade off the floor. I am writing a book about my experiences that may never get published, but that will help my children understand my disease and forgive my mistakes. I am exercising. I am making and trusting friends. I'm dating my husband again. I'm taking my medications and seeing my psychiatrist regularly. I'm reading my scriptures and saying my prayers. I am doing my best, which is all that I can do. It is enough.

Sometimes kids are too honest.

I'm secretly afraid that my sense of humor offends people.

I'm trying not to be offended by this.