The No Luck Summer

Since I was a child, summer was hands down my favorite season.  I love to swim, love to be in the sun, love to be active and love to usually be off the busy routine and just have fun.  This summer has been one of the worst outside of junior year of high school when I got a crazy eye infection and didn't make the soccer team.  And this one might be quite worse than that if I let myself admit just how hard it really has been.

It all concluded today when my mommy friend and I attempted to have our last pool day before she goes back to work at a school.  When we arrive early we sat down at the park to play until the gates opened.  The kids were excited, lunches packed, pool bags ready and sunscreen on when as the minutes passed 11am, the doors never opened.  After about 15 minutes, a woman at the park said, "you all waiting for the pool?  They decided to close it for the rest of the summer....."  WHAT?!  Its freaking August 4th and you are closing the pool that we have passes to...  That's a metaphor for the summer.  A build of excitement and a fast let down.

We are still sick with some viral infection that's now bronchitis.  Not contagious so I can rejoin the public but none the less annoying that I can't go five minutes without coughing and I can't sleep through the night.  We lost the baby.  We lost so many pool days to rain and cold weather.  We lost our health so we couldn't go to the zoo or story hour at the library.  My first summer with a toddler and we spent the majority of it napping, staying hydrated, and sterilizing the house.  And now on a beautiful day, we return home from the park with an unused pool bag and dry suits on. 

The kids are starting to go back to school and I keep thinking, "no no no it can't be over".  We missed out.  I will have to wait another 9 months to get into a pool.  Another nine months to have my teacher friends home to play with.  Another 9 months to get day time appointments on my work days so I can get home early.  Another 9 months until I get home before dark.  Another 9 months until the world slows down and we just chill and have fun.  This was such an anticipated time for rest and restoration but it instead became the low point of the year.  Anyone else have one of the deserts that you walk through and it just feels like you will never get relief?

So, all I can do is look forward to another season.  In the fall, which is my second favorite season, I make goulash, and decorate for fall holidays.  I wear sweat pants and we have bonfires.  The leaves change and there's football and my mom's group starts up again.  My niece and nephew are due and there is still plenty of nice days to go for walks, play outside, and enjoy my flowers.  I know eventually this infection will go away.  I will get well, and we will get ready to try to have another baby.  God will provide space for healing and I know I will get restored.  The reality is that life has these seasons of joy and sorrow.  We have times all of our dreams come true and times that we just have to watch the minutes pass.  There are times we are blessed with fun experiences and times where we merely just survive. 

I guess summer is ending.  Once the pool closes it's all down hill.  But I can't keep holding on to all I have lost or missed this summer.  I have so many good times ahead.  There is so much joy that awaits.  I just want so badly to feel well again.  I just want so badly for our home to be healthy. I just want our little life back.  I guess until then, I will just be thankful for all that we have been given because there's no point in being sad about all the misfortune.  It will only make a sad day sadder. 

Eventually all deserts end and lead into gentler climates.  I can't just lay down and accept this is my reality.  I will keep walking (and taking vitamins, probiotics and all those healthy things) and I know we will march into a calm pasture eventually.  So, goodbye "no luck summer", I hope we never see you again.  I hope we have a hopeful harvest this fall and are reminded of God's goodness, grace, and mercy.   We certainly are ready to feel well again. 

Miscarriage

It's not really been the summer I have had planned.  I think after really two years of joy, success, and miracle moments, I wasn't ready for struggle and loss.  Maybe I got used to the feeling of joy and independance.  Maybe it felt deserved after years of pushing and trying and learning and then the harvest.  Part of me is still lost in the moments of my sheer blessing.  I feel like a farmer who's reaped 4x more than they ever imagined they would yield, but yet, when there is loss, there is loss, and there is a still sadness that overcomes your heart for moments when you recognize that no matter how much joy there is in the world there is also the sadness.

Seven weeks ago, I was happy and never thought for a moment I was pregnant.  I was starting the summer and enjoying my new found success.  We returned from our first vacation in a couple years to Turks and Caicos, and we had an amazing time.  We were strong in love and reminded just how blessed our lives were.  We realized we had it all: a family, a home, jobs we like, a fuzzy dog who was impossible not to love and supportive family and friends.  We realized and reflected how God seemed to just be showering us in favor and looked forward to the future.  This year we were planning on adding to the family, another little squeaky, snotty, person who we knew we would love just like the first.

 

That's what start almost two months of anxiety, joy, planning, and excitement.  I think shortly after that I started feeling I was late, took the test and saw the reality that we were in fact pregnant.  I made the appointment for the doctor and tried to contain the joy.  I told a few people, close friends and family, and mainly I talked with Chris about our little life that we thought was getting bigger.

There is something about thinking you're pregnant that gets you excited, planning, and dreaming.   We talked names, planned to change the rooms around, and talked about what we needed.  We planned when to move money, the maternity leave, and how to tell the world. 

Last week, I was alone at the doctor to hear the heart beat and check on the baby's growth.  A strong heartbeat, but smaller in size than we thought.  I thought 8-9 weeks, the ultrasound showing 6.5 weeks.  I thought, well, maybe I was wrong on my timing, maybe it was later.  The doctor was hopeful but realistic that maybe something was not right and we should just wait two weeks to see and do another ultrasound then.  And I left.  Deflated a little but hopeful.  Maybe just maybe it's just the ultrasound or my recall on dates. Maybe because I've had this double ear infection most of the summer and haven't felt like myself the baby is a little small.  Maybe if I would have caught that fever I had the last 24 hours a little sooner...

Within 24 hours, the baby was gone.  No where to be found on the ultrasound, and our little dream, our little plans, our little names and little idea of our child were gone.  The pregnancy had terminated itself, and it was over. 

You know, I rarely read a blog or articles about miscarriages.  They happen in 1 out 4 pregnancies.  Like some how we shower women with love and affection when they have a baby, but they are supposed to hide away alone at home in silence when they lose a pregnancy.  I think what amazes me most is that I am still, sitting with, so now what?  I don't feel depressed or heartbroken, just feel like my favor with God has dried up for a moment.  The high wore off that I was getting everything I wanted in life outside of winning the lottery.  That "sun is shining and birds are singing" carefree me is slower for a minute, quieter, more thoughtful for a bit.  I am trying not to let my head wrap around the fact I was carrying a person inside of me, not just a sack of cells.  A heart beat was there one day and gone the next.  A little person.  A little piece of me and Chris.  A child.  Just because it doesn't have a name or a birth certificate doesn't mean it doesn't have meaning.  Because our relationship started when I first dreamed meeting this being, sharing life with this being, and loving this being like I did with my K. 

And while I don't look for pity, I want to figure out what it looks like to move on in a healthy way.   I don't want to deny I had dreams and plans for this little one, but I also want to be real that this journey of being a mommy isn't over just because of a miscarriage.  This hope for a big family and this hope for more joy and love is still strong.  We are so blessed, even still, even without this little one.  We are still loved.  We still have everything we need, but we are still bummed, still sad, still disappointed that it wasn't meant to be. 

It all happened so fast.  Like a blink.  I just felt the need to write, not because I am alone and broken but because I realize that this whole journey as a woman is lonely.  It's lonely and grieving to have, to lose and to not know what's God's plans are for your family.  It's hard to trust that a few cells forming together will create a healthy child.  It's hard to know if you're doing things right or hurting yourself.  It's hard to know if you caused it or if your guilt is just part of the process.  It's hard to know when it's time to give up or time to move on or time to just enjoy where you are.  Being a mother is part of the core of every woman whether she has a child or not.  Like somewhere in there because we are capable of being a mother, of loving, of nurturing of attuning, we can fathom that we might be doing our jobs wrong or missing what the whole point is.  

I am healing today.  Grieving some, but more so resting and dreaming a new reality for the next nine months:  Trips to the zoo and the pool, cuddles on the couch, and peanut butter crackers on the porch.  I have all I need to find joy but I have to refocus my mind on the joy I already have.  My heart grieves today for women who desire a child, try for children, lose children day after day, year after year.  Because it's hard to hope in one hand, and experience reality in another.  I want to know how to normalize that so that people start to see that while there is blessing there can also be sorrow.  While there is faith there is also disappointment, and while there is love there is also loss. 

Perfect Tiles

It's been awhile since I have blogged.  It's been almost two months.  That's like a record since I had K and I think I realized why.  My head is clear.  I've been on Lexapro for a couple months now.  I almost forget to take it every morning because I feel good.

My business is going well.  In one year, I have merged my LLC with two other practices, started using electronic medical records, moved offices, multiplied my practice ten times in client volume, taken on two new associates and started creating a training program, managed books, and kept up to date with everything.  I am BLOWN away.  One year ago, I had nothing.  I had no idea that God would provide for me.  No concept that I could be this successful.  Now I am referring out clients and not worrying about income.  It feels so good.

One year ago, I was fumbling through the first year of parenthood.  I was in constant anxiety about if she was on track, feeding well, mourning the inability to breastfeed, and hoping to stay on routine.  Now, she's running through the house with a big vocabulary of funny words and phrases.  She kissing me on the lips and walking the dog.  She's feeding baby dolls and feeding herself.  She loves school, dancing, and going for walks.  I hit my stride with motherhood, who knew, in one year it would feel so different?

One year ago, I was unhappy with my weight.  I was about 20 pounds from my goal weight and trying desperately to eat clean, work out, and do the right thing.  I wanted so badly to fit back into my old clothes and feel good about myself.  Today, I realized I am able to fit back into my clothes but my body is different.  My arms are ripped but my stomach bears the scars of being a mother.  I feel good about all I have done to regain my body but I hope and continue to strive to be a better me.  I could work harder, but I also want to enjoy my life.  We have way better eating habits but we are finding a balance that is reasonable to our life styles and forgiving of our occasional indulgences.

One year ago, I would say that I thought I knew how to see the world in a way that was healthy, that I could prepare for loss and struggle, but today, I realize I have so much more to learn.  I look at all I have done, but I realize how far I have to go in life.  I am humbled by the fact that no matter how much we learn and grow, we always still have growing to do.  No matter how many times we are hurt, we can always be hurt again.  No matter how many times we heal, we often have to re-heal, re-learn, and re-grow pieces of ourselves to find wholeness.  Wholeness is momentary.  It's a fragile space.  Where life feels good, right, simple, but in a blink of time we are again humbled to the reality that is our lives.  We get to a peak, only to realize the mountain continues up further. 

 

Being a mother, a business owner, a therapist, a woman, doesn't make me perfect or able to always know how to respond perfectly.  Being all of those things complicates life.  So many people hold others to a standard that's unattainable in reality, whether it's their perception of themselves or other people.  What's frustrating is the heartache that comes with everyone involved when these ideals and assumptions are not met.  We give up on ourselves, we lose relationships, we try to stop caring because it's easier than not having our ideals met.  We use our judgement to say, "I wish someone was _____" because through our own eyes we feel like we know the right and wrong way to be.  We wish for no pain, we wish people never wronged us, and we wished that people would just get us so that we could live without negative feelings. 

One thing motherhood and business ownership has taught me is that there is not a chance in this lifetime that I will measure up.  There is no relationship I will always say and do the right things in.  There is no client I will ever work with perfectly.  I won't always hear my kid, love my kid or teach my kid perfectly.  My house will certainly never be perfect.  Not even my car will stay clean.  I will have messy messes I cleaned up and I will keep cleaning to keep my head above water but at the end of the day, no matter how awesome and productive I have been, I won't be perfect.  I will keep disappointing, keep failing and keep hurting other people.  And while humbly, I can seek forgiveness and mercy, I have to accept the reality some people have chose to keep that ideal of me in their mind.  Some people won't be able to accept my messiness.  Some people will be mad forever that I can't meet their needs.  Some people will go into believing that I hurt intentionally or don't care about anyone but myself.  Some people will forget that no matter how hard I try, I am just messy and real and raw and broken like they are.  Some people will be so hallow from their own scars that they won't realize they are blaming and projecting their insecurities into my actions without realizing there wasn't so much thought put into what I do.  Sometimes, I am just me, and sometimes I just don't do things perfectly.  Sometimes I just mindless talk, act, move, think, say, and create in ways that don't always hold everyone's feelings in mind.  Sometimes, I am just me. 

This weekend we started ripping apart our shower.  I rode with my dad to the hardware store to get the supplies.  He said, "You know, if you can do one of these projects, you can't go into it thinking it's going to be perfect.  It's like anything you do in life, it's going to have some flaws, some areas you wish you could have done better.  You have to finish it, accept it, and just do your best.  Because at the end of the day it's not about just finishing, it's about enjoying doing the work."  My dad isn't a poet.  He's just a "hard ass Marine" who often reminds me where I get my brutal honesty that people also claim to love in therapy.  My dad is a guy who messes up.  Over time, I've seen his heart start to mellow, let go and accept where he isn't in control.  He is still messy tile work, but I am starting to see him grow.  And as I stare into our naked bathroom, insulation on the ground, dust all over, I realize, I am this wall.  I am this project.  I am not going to be perfect.  I am not going to be flawless.  I have cracks, missing pieces, areas that could look better.  But I am purposefully made.  I am intentional.  And while I still have areas only God can heal, I have to first give myself grace, even when other people can't, that I am doing the best that I can. 

I enjoy doing the work.  I enjoy my mess.  I work every day to make it better, but there is so much foundation already laid.  So much history of relationships and patterns of my interactions that while I will strive more and more to be a good person, I also have to accept, the beauty of myself is in the eye of every beholder.  I will always disappoint someone, I will always make people angry, but the reality is that my goal is not to be perfect to all who look at me.  My purpose is to "try my best and enjoy the process".  There are no perfect people, no perfect relationships, and no way that we could live our lives without God overlooking all the little imperfections that make us each our own beautiful masterpiece.  I am just glad He carries me.  Each new place, year after year, I grow.  So today, I am grateful.  I am grateful for the process and the journey.  I am grateful for me.

Life on Lexapro Part 2

It's been about three weeks since I started anti-anxiety medication, and I have to say, it's made a world of difference for me.  I know not everyone's journey includes a "one medication is the right fit" type of experience, but for me, it has been.  I had no idea how busy my mind was, how distracted I was, how anxious I was, how much binge/stress eating I did, how long it took me to fall asleep until all of that changed.

More so, I had no idea how many people would email and private message me of their own journeys of pain, anxiety, depression, and their well wishes, questions and experiences.  Mental Health issues whether chronic, situational, biological, or trauma based are still unspoken, lonely, and often stigmatized issues that people continue to be ashamed of.  Why is that?

When I was pregnant, it was amazing how with my girlfriends who were pregnant we reached a new level of emotional intimacy with one another by sharing this experience.  We talked about everything from bodily fluids, boobs, sex, eating habits, sleeping habits, gas, poop, headaches, snot, breast milk, you name it.  I had never in my life heard or talked about much of these things with anyone except my mother and doctors.  There is something magical about sharing motherhood with other mothers.  It normalizes and comforts us to share our journey with others.  There are mom forums, and mom church groups.  There is Mother's Day and mother's book series.  We are proud of our experience of being mothers.  The badge of honor comes from handling blow out diapers in public and fitting back into our pre-pregnancy pants.

So why then does post-partum anxiety and depression or even just chronic anxiety and depression have to be a private, lonely, closed-door experience?   

How can one difficult experience be so honorable, but the other be so shameful when they are both biological and chemical experiences that are messy and yet difficult at the same time?  Why in an age of constant contact with one another via media, phone, and internet, do so many people with mental health conditions suffer alone and in silence?

It's been amazing that through my anxious thoughts over the last few years, I came up with this blog.  "Waiting for the Sun to Rise" is my metaphorical picture of how I am always anxiously awaiting the joy that supposed to come in various places of life.  From the beginning, I have be overcome with how the changes in my life have lead to an uneasy heart that struggles to find peace and trust God.  I have gotten so much feedback of people who were dying to connect to someone else in their own experience whether it be fellow mental health workers, mothers, working moms, people wanting to start a business, people getting married, people with infertility, or just people wanting to share in my journey.  What I found was that my voice was just speaking the same thoughts as others who thought they were alone.  The reality is, we are all in a place of need at various points in our life.  We all get to a place where we are dying to have a cup of coffee with an old friend who doesn't just compare their life to ours, looking to "out do our pain".  We just want some one to "get us".  And while it doesn't make the symptoms of racing thoughts or trouble sleeping go away, there is comfort in realizing we are all struggling and we can all love one another well to help one another through it.

I tried my best to lean on my faith to overcome my anxiety.  The truth was, at this stage in my life, it was just bigger than I felt I could manage.  Lexapro for me is not a life-long solution because I do feel like, for me, becoming a mom and starting my own business and having to trust God to provide has caused more anxiety than a typical year in my life would cause.  But I know for some people, anti-anxiety/depressants are a need for many seasons, years, or life long.  There is no shame in needing support.  There is no shame in trying to care for yourself so that you can be the best you can be.  We wouldn't put down someone who stops eating junk food, or stops a life of lethargy to better themselves for their family, but I have had a few other doubters say, "do you really think you need medication to get through this?"  It's interesting that we will take anti-biotics for a cold we could easily deal with, we will take random supplements to "improve our health", we will do herbal detoxes, we will do crazy workouts, we will restrict our diets, but adding an anti-anxiety medication... OH MY!  That's just so extreme, isn't it? ..... Not really.  We all have to find things that work for us.  Sure, I'd love to just drink my fresh fruit and veggies smoothies and be so healthy and happy I can tap dance for days, but the reality is that no matter how much I prayed, worked out, changed my diet and had a regular sleep schedule, I did not find relief from the stomach upset, constant thoughts, and fatigue.  It was just bigger than me, and bigger than my efforts.  Does it make me weak?  I think about as weak as I am to overcome my near-sightedness and my seasonal allergies without support.

What I know is that I feel good.  I sleep better (I still get nightmares and I still have times I have trouble sleeping), but I sleep better.  I am not tired and run down all day.  I haven't been snapping on my husband as much.  My thoughts are clearer.  I don't feel overwhelmed if things don't work out.  I eat smaller meals throughout the day and recognize my hunger rather than binging after 12 hours of not eating.  I am doing less frantic cleaning and organizing, but all of my stuff is still pretty much up to date.   I want to be out and about and get ready in the morning rather than slug in my pj's until I go to work at night.  I am hopeful about things I had trouble letting go of.  I have a better ability to just "let go and let God'.  It's not a perfect fix, but it's showing me that my mind was on over drive.  I was too stressed out to function well.  It was taking a toll on me.  And now, I feel like I am on the rebound in so many areas.

I guess I would be a hypocrite to tell clients they should consider all possibilities if therapy isn't working.  There is no excuse to allow yourself to feel miserable, lonely, and shut down.  It's not fair to you, your spouse, your friends, your kids to not figure out a way to take care of you.  Whatever that looks like.  I am more motivated to work out, eat better, and be overall more active and healthy.  This hard and well thought out decision has been life changing.  I guess I just wanted to update you.  I took another leap, and it's been a huge help.  :) 

Life on Lexapro

I am about 48 hours into taking Lexapro for anxiety.  I started trying it out at night and ended up only sleeping for 3 hours before waking up and being "jazzed" for the rest of the day.  I, initially, was thinking, "great, this was a waste, I knew it wouldn't be helpful", but then as the day went on I started to feel pretty good.  I had a lot of energy, felt less compulsions to clean, and while my thoughts were still moving and bouncing from topic to topic, I didn't have the gut sinking feeling that I was going to be sick or that something was wrong.  It was one day, and the full effects and the decrease in side effects don't occur for the first week or two.  The best effects come after about a month, so it's too soon to know if this even will make a difference in my life.  I decided to take it in the morning and see if the burst of energy like I had at 2:30 in the morning could instead be around or after lunch.  We will see.

This is a big step for me.  Usually, I try my best to "do it all by myself" without any help.  I am a pull yourself up by your own bootstraps kind of girl, and often I end up tired, frustrated, and depressed when the cost of doing it alone is higher than the benefit of doing it at all.  I had to start wearing glasses in second grade.  I hated them, but I needed them to see the board from my seat.  For four years (until I got contacts), I would try to wing it, "forgetting" my glasses on my nightstand like I didn't need them.  I would get to school, and totally feel like an idiot as I strained and tried to see but couldn't.  I would copy off my friends notes and said it was just easier to them.  Natural consequences to my own stubborn nature.  I also have seasonal allergies.  I have had allergy medication since middle school.  You would think since I have indoor and outdoor allergies that I would have started taking them daily, but I still find myself thinking, "oh they don't really help that much" and I don't take it, and then find myself sniffing, blowing, and being snotty the next day.  

What is it about me and so many others I work with that we don't want to admit we are broken?  Our bodies are broken, our spirits, our hearts.  Whether we are moms, teachers, counselors, friends, or just us, it doesn't matter the role, there is usually a dysfunction in there somewhere. 

After my grandmother died, a cousin of mine told me after the funeral my grandmother had confided in her that she was depressed and had anxiety most of her life.  While I think most people knew she was anxious because she wouldn't drive on the highway or do much outside of the house, I don't think anyone really examined how much this affected her every day life.  Looking back on how I knew my grandmother, I see the ways that depression and anxiety played a role from her willing to try new things, her rigidity on how she wanted things to be, her neediness and never feeling loved, her poor self image and always feeling unlovable, her depressive conversations about how everything was bad or lonely, etc.  We found out she started drinking vodka and hiding it, she smoked cigarettes all day, and she drank only caffeine.  And I started to ask myself lately, how are all of my emotions effecting me?  My life?  My relationships? and especially my self concept?

Outside of thinking I am never good enough and putting myself through an anxiety gerbil wheel of performance to feel better, I see where my body has often felt like it's always running on "E".  Times in college where I took diet pills so I didn't fall asleep in class even after getting 9 hours of sleep were one of the first times in my life I wondered why I was struggling when others weren't.  This had happened in high school, too, but it continued to get worse and worse.  There were times I didn't go out with friends because I just didn't have the energy to get ready and be out, but then I felt lonely and depressed sitting at the house alone.  Days when I procrastinated work, had trouble even reading a few paragraphs of a book because my mind drifted.  There were seasons where I was motivated to succeed in dieting and working out, but after a few weeks, I went back to feeling lethargic and worthless in my efforts.  I have struggled with stomach issues and feeling like maybe my thyroid or my hormones were off.  Test after test, I was in perfect health, so why didn't I feel good?  Why didn't I have the energy my friends did without a taken a Hydroxycut or drinking 2 large caffeine drinks a day?  During finals, I resorted to even lower means to try and focus.  I remember two years in particular where I took a friends Adderol on two occasions because I just couldn't retain what I was reading.  It helped, but I felt like I was cheating.  I felt like I was stupid.  I have always felt like there was something off, but "maybe I was just being too sensitive" or a hypochondriac...

My hope for this medication and for my life is that I can find a place where my insides stop shaking for every new experience even positive ones, my head can by clear and my vision of myself is positive most of the time.  I want my daughter to grow up seeing a mother who is energetic, funny, courageous, confident, loving, and giving.  I don't want her to head all those negative tapes in my head about my fat thighs, not being good enough, not being pretty enough, not having a clean enough house and my ugly body shape.  I don't want her to know the compulsive me who can't stop organizing or cleaning because I just "need to do one more thing" before I can play with her with my full attention.  I don't want to be irritable and snap on her because that day I just feel "moody".  I want to be consistent and I want the peace of God with me as I go throughout my day.

I have a friend also named Carrie I went to college with.  She is so energetic, confident, open, and willing to try anything.  She never seems to care what others think of her, and she never gets caught up in drama.  She has loads of friends, success at work, and is such a dependable person.  I always admired her for how she takes on the world and never seems to need help or be needy.  I know she comes from a good family, was raised in the church, and has good social support.  She is healthy, has good balance in her life, and while I know she's not perfect, she is such a model to me that you can live your life, treat people well, and not spend so much time caring about everyone else's opinion.  She carries herself in a way that it feels like she never worries, doesn't stay angry too long, and is always able to handle any situation. 

I have spent a lot of the last year and a half trying to find more of myself and who I want to be.  This taking an anti-depressant isn't a sign of weakness, because I don't trust God, or because I am trying to take a band-aid.  It's because I need to be able to better deal with my emotions so I can be someone in the world who doesn't project their sh*t on to everyone else.  I need to be someone who has feelings and opinions but doesn't fall apart if the world doesn't go by way.  Maybe I am too sensitive, not motivated enough, and easily angered, but why?  Is there more to that?  Does my glass ceiling have to stop at mediocre for emotional regulation?

So, this is an opportunity.  This is not a setback.  This is not some sad defeat where I have to admit that I need a prescription pill to feel good about myself.  This is an opportunity to see if the Serotonin levels in my brain are low enough that I have some mild emotional, cognitive and behavioral interference to being the best me I can be.  Guess I will keep you posted if Life on Lexapro is really all that different...

Refuge in the Storm...

There is something magical about sitting in silence listening to a thunderstorm.  Birds tweeting in their morning shower, thunder rolling in and out.  The rain beating on the roof, the side walk, the windows... There is no baby monitor on since baby went to daycare with daddy and I have a little time to stop and reflect before I need to get ready for my Real Moms group.  I don't get many moments like this and usually when I have them I clean, do some laundry, or start getting ready for work.  But there's something so peaceful to me about a thunderstorm, and man, is it coming down...

It's dark out because of the storm and I kept the lights low.  I think about how at peace I feel this morning which is such a change of pace.  I want to stay in this nook for awhile to recenter.  Usually, by Thursday morning I have clients lined up back to back, but with spring break decreases my load last week and this week, it's been good to see how just a few extra appointments a week can overload me. 

My anxiety has been a raging war since I had baby K, and while I manage and function, I have come to admit to myself that it's more than just the "adjustment to being a mom".  If a person came in and told me how I feel, I'd refer them to a doctor after some initial therapy.  So, I finally opened up and talked to my doctor about it.  I have medication at the pharmacy waiting...  I am contemplative about if I want to take this step.  I've been living stressed out, tired, unable to sleep, and struggling to be calm most days since she was born.  I have tried my therapy techniques, tried lowering stress, but unless I was on a beach with drink in hand and away from everyone, I think the knot in my stomach is there to stay.  I am not in the depths of depression like some women unfortunately face.  But I am not who I used to be.  I am much more internally agitated.  I am much more easily fatigued.  And even when I eat right, exercise, meditate, and have what feels like an easy load, I still find myself getting waves of intense panic, worry, feeling like I am missing something or doing it wrong, insecurity, racing thoughts...  That's why this blog has become my safe place to dump out all of the feelings and thoughts going on into my brain. 

I am so happy with my life and don't see why I should feel worried all the time.  Yesterday, I was just folding laundry and I got hit by this wave of uncertainty.  About nothing.  Instantly, my mind was racing and then the next thing I knew, I was feeling queasy again.  I get mad at myself like some how I should be smart enough to outsmart my feelings.  I try counting, deep breathing, thinking of a "safe place".  I try praying, listening to worship music, getting a drink.  At some point, life beckons, and I have to move on.  Still on edge, I find if I am doing a few different things all at once, I start to overload my anxiety with managing life, but in the end I just end up tired.  It's not about one area, and I can pinpoint one thought.  I just know I feel this intense, irrational twinge now and then that I am powerless to stop.  Sometimes just a day or two a week, sometimes for a few days all day long.  It just doesn't feel right...

Most of my therapist friends are on something... Zoloft, Prozac, Adderol, Lexapro....  Secondary trauma maybe to hearing and taking on so many people's brokenness and sharing in the broken places with people.  I always wondered how people do it for 30 years, full time.  Are they numb?  Are they crazy, too?  Until I started to share about my anxiety, I had no idea other therapists felt the same way at times.  I think the hormones of having a kid maybe just threw it all over the top for me.  And while I don't feel like I am in the wrong profession or overloaded, I do think I will have to practice a lot of self-care, which I suck at. 

I wish all moments felt this peaceful.  I wish time stopped for me more often so I could catch my breath, but the reality of our world is that brokenness doesn't stop.  Time doesn't stop.  Needs don't stop.  And we can neglect things and put them aside to rest here and there, but we always have to come back to it.  I am using this morning to mindfully refuel my own gas tank.  I pray anxiety leaves, and energy returns.  I pray peace is restored in my soul.  All afternoon I will be surrounded by the stories of people who need someone to intentionally listen and reflect to them, and I want to be a clinician who doesn't just show up.  I want to be a clinician that is present.  Someone who can feel and reflect and support my clients the way Jesus would support those who came to Him. 

I suppose even Jesus stopped, went away from the noise, and was just recentered in to a peaceful place, away from the anxiety and depression and brokenness of this world, and prayed to God to give Him strength to walk the journey ahead.  EVERY DAY... sometimes multiples time IN ONE DAY.  Jesus also didn't have a toddler :)

Psalm 34:18, 19 – The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (19) A righteous man may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all.

Toddlerhood... Beware!

I am starting to realize I am no longer the mother of a baby.  I realize she is growing older every day and I have had a hard time believing so much actually changes in a year.  There is something magical about that first year of life and all of that magic changes after they become independent toddlers.  All of the sudden, I am having to think harder about how I parent.  It's not as instinctual as it was before when it was all about feed, change, sleep, cuddle.  Now I am trying to teach things, listen, follow along, protect, and still feed, change, sleep.  Now days we cry just because we can't have what we want even if it is an electric cord going into the wall.  We cry when we are out of routine.  We cry in the stroller.  We cry getting our diaper changed.  We cry getting our face washed.  I know she's communicating... "No stop... I hate this stupid cars eat" and "I don't want to take my hands off the toilet" and "I want to throw my lunch on the floor for Macy"...  I just know she doesn't understand why she can't have it her way, and she's just expressing that frustration...

Toddlerhood is a different beast than infancy.  It causes me to think about my response and causes me to be mindful that while she's smarter and she can feel like she's trying to get to me, she's not yet that manipulative and she is still somewhat a baby. 

I think this period of transition from baby to child is so interesting and yet so messy.  It's hard to discern as a parant what is the right choice.  It's hard to weigh out, "not teaching her a bad habit" and "being sensitive to her needs".  Of course we, as parents, have a long laundry list of do's and don'ts during toddlerhood, but it feels more gray than "you should breastfeed" because it's better for your baby.  Now there  discipline techniques, sleep techniques, how to feed, how to toilet train, when to transition to a toddler bed, and what toddler shoes have been foot support.  I could read a 1000 books and end up just as confused but with more information.

Being a toddler is frustrating for both of us.  She can't talk in words I understand, and I am sure all of my words don't help explain away her frustration.  We try baby sign language all the time, but sometimes I am not sure we are communicating or just playing "copy me".  Following your gut to teach and love is much harder than it is when you have that tiny, spongy infant.  Some days I feel like we are doing great, and other days we just can't seem to get it right.  It's a messy dance of control and need and routine and love.  It's time consuming and energy draining.  It's love and hate and everything in between. 

We have had some challenging weeks, days, evenings, nights, mornings, and meal times.  We have how blown out diapers, hands in dog bowls, pee in car seats, poop all over, throw up all over, boogers that she refuses to be removed.  We have had styes in eyes and hair bows pulled out.  We have had food on the floor, spit on everything.  We have had spills, thrills, and the chills at one point. 

Being a parent changes everything.  Our leisurely weekends are now filled with swim lessons, park outings, zoo trips, and library runs.  We are trying to avoid television but are drawn to it.  We want to nap but can't seem to get rested.  We want to be healthy but crave eating crap.  Some days are magical, awesome, and so much fun.  It's like life on steroids.  It's always changing.  Just like her up and down moods, we are hanging on to the rollercoaster, and never know what's around the bend. 

I guess all we can do is cling on and pray or let go and enjoy the ride.  We can choose to laugh about the poop, throw up and pee... and spit and spit up and other bodily fluids or we can be upset.  We can encourage one another to keep going or allow misery to enjoy company.  Most days I think we do well letting God be in control and enjoying all parenthood has to offer.  But it's a ride, and it's an intentional choice to enjoy toddlerhood.  In those moments in the quiet restaurant where she screams bloody murder because she wants more of something we are out of or is just mad to sit in her high chair.  Those are those moments where my anxiety climbs into my throat and I have had to ask God to hold me while I hold her. Sometimes I get it under control and we all settle.  Sometimes I pay quickly and walkout flushed, tired, and on edge.  As she's learning, so am I.  I am learning with a Bachelor's in Child Development and a Master's Degree and Marriage and Family Therapy, even I am broken, messy, sinful and selfish at times as a parent.  Even I give ice cream just to sooth our pain.  Even I give in and give up at times.  We all try our best.  I have new respect for all parents because it's hard and some days it's survival.  I have to remind myself, I just have one child who no major issues.  I can't imagine what others go through...

To all those new mommys out there.... enjoy those quiet, sleepy afternoons.  Enjoy bottle or breast feeding quietly in the corner of the public place you are in.  Toddlerhood will soon arrive and all you can do is sit back, smile and enjoy the ride.  It's nap time again and I think I will take a moment to take care of me.  Never know when the ride will start up again :)