June 30, 2011

Private Journal Entry - March 19, 2009

This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery.  

March 19, 2009

Times are tough and I have been sinking lately.  Rob is still out of work and sometimes it becomes discouraging.  

I’ve started this little journal  so that I might have a place to log my feelings; things that I would never dare blog about.

I find myself really angry right now.  I think its postpartum depression.  Isaac is 19 months old and it still hasn’t gone away.  I always feel somewhat upset…like a dark cloud is hanging over me…

…maybe a little therapy and some medication is all I need.  

I just want to feel happy again.

…I’ve been “yell at/spank children free" for 3 days now.  Go ME!

I just want to be happy.  

I want to be happy with my husband and children and ENJOY them.  

They all deserve love and that’s all they are asking of me.
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - June 11, 2009

This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery.  


June 11, 2009
I am beginning an anti-depressant tomorrow.  I am a little afraid.  I’m not keen on foreign objects being put into my body that may/may not cause side effects…serious or not.  I asked Rob for a blessing tonight and feel less nervous.  As long as I am in tune with the Lord I will know what to do. 

I want to be me again.  I want to be happy…truly happy again and banish these feelings of anger and annoyance towards everyone and everything. 

I love my husband and I love my boys and I want them to have the best of “me”.   

They deserve the best of “me”.   

Not this crazily uptight and angry lady that has been hanging around for the last two years.

Heavenly Father, please help me from this darkness/unhappiness.  I want to feel light again.   
I want to be free to love my family again.
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - July 7, 2009


This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery.  

July 7, 2009--revised June 2011 (that day is still so vivid in my memory—I just wanted to add a few things I remembered)

 Last Wednesday was a really hard day for me.  I lost my temper and yelled at the kids often.  I was continually angry.  By the time Rob got home from work I was at the end of my rope…DONE!  He announced that he had scouts at 7:00PM.  The anger overwhelmed me.  I told him, “I totally support you in your calling (cub scouts)…just not on Wednesday nights.” (and I meant it)

The kids went to bed early and by that time I was frustrated and tired beyond my capacity to function (the anti-depressants left me rather lethargic there in the beginning)…and I still had so much to do that night (pick up toys, dishes, sweeping, etc).

I began wishing for a terminal illness to swoop down and take me away, or at least a severe disease that would leave me bedridden and near death.  (I really wanted to die.  I was so tired physically and emotionally…I remember feeling like I just wanted to lay down…fall asleep and, hopefully, never wake up.  Then I decided that maybe a “near death” illness would have the same effect.  I would be well rested and, once recovered, would have a new outlook on life.)  I just knew (or thought) that was all it would take (to make my life right again.)

The more I contemplated a terminal illness the more I became aware of just how serious I was.  Leaving was not an option (I had seriously contemplated that many times before but knew that I would be ridden with guilt for abandoning my kids for the rest of my life.  I had already caused them so much sorrow…I didn’t want to add to it)

Suicide?  Not an option! (As tempting as it seemed sometimes, I have a deep rooted belief that it solves nothing.  So I didn’t even seriously consider it then, thank goodness.  Here’s what I wrote in my journal: (not an answer, go to hell, still leave my family in heartache and sorrow and a whole lifetime of mental issues as a result). 

But, a terminal illness, it seemed to be the answer. 

It actually scared me (Terrified me beyond description is more accurate). Rob still wasn’t home so I called my mom.  We talked, I cried, and made a decision to not only take anti-depressants but to see a counselor as well.  Plainly…I need more help.

Rob went to the store after scouts for milk (completely unaware of what was happening at home) and came home with a dozen roses as well.  He said, “I could tell you were having a hard day.” 

What a sweet boy.  I love the man I married.  For all of his faults, he is still PERFECT for me.  Truly!  (I believe this even more now than I did back then) 

I love him even more because I totally blew him off, being swallowed up in grief, and he still stuck around to comfort me.  I love him!  I need him!

Now, almost a week later, I have called a counselor.  I still have yet to hear back.  I will call again.

(By the time I wrote this the anti-depressants had FINALLY started working.  I was feeling the effects of it and was far less groggy)

I’m learning to enjoy just being level.  Not mad, not necessarily happy…but complacent/level.

Hopefully it will get better and I will feel more moments of content and even JOY

I hope. 

I hate feeling angry all of the time.


forMMM

Private Journal Entry - July 8, 2009


This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery.  

July 8, 2009

Tonight I felt/saw a glimpse of my old self.  I was out chatting with a group of neighbors.  The kids were all out playing and I was truly enjoying myself.  Gone was the social awkwardness and it was replaced with charm and whit.

I’ve missed that.  I had nothing to prove. 

I was just…myself. 

I hope I feel more of that to come.
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - August 14, 2009

This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery.  


August 14, 2009

Today I danced (I love to dance and hadn’t been able to for a long time); openly, freely, artistically. 

Enya’s “Caribbean blue” was the inspiration.  I was taken back in time to my junior year in high school (when I performed a solo to this song in my “modern dance” class).  I opened up and set myself free. 

It was invigorating!

If this child I carry is a girl (which it wasn’t), I want her to love to dance.  To be able to express herself through movement and the joy that comes from it.  Maybe by doing the same I can pass on this precious treasure to her in the womb (maybe next time).

I feel happy, hopeful. 

As though I may be climbing out of a deep, dark hole I have been buried in for so long.

This morning, I owe it to the dance. 
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - October 27, 2009


This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery.  

October 27, 2009

Tonight I am so full of emotions, I can’t sleep.  I have so much guilt and regret about the past, concern with the present and utter fear about the future.

I plead with the Lord tonight to redeem me from the past; the anger, the rage, the mental and emotional abuse towards my family and yet, can’t see how it’s possible.  

I’m still failing them.  Especially Gabe.  Poor Gabe.

What has he done to deserve this treatment?  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  Old habits die hard and I still find myself on his back constantly.

I have extreme fears over what’s to come when this baby is here.  I can’t go back to the way it was before.  I can’t…I’m not strong enough.

I find myself wondering “what was I thinking” getting pregnant and “what am I going to do?”

I love this baby…I really, really do and yet I am very afraid for it to be here.  I already have feelings of rejection (as in, rejecting the baby).  I have visions of me setting it aside and not caring for it or about it.  IT SCARES ME!

What if things are worse this time?  What if I get so angry I actually truly hurt someone (my kids or myself)?  I’m scared out of my mind about it.

I prayed tonight that Rob, my doctors, and I would be more aware of the situation this time. 

Please Heavenly Father…please help me to get through it.

I’ve shed a lot of tears tonight.  I’m grateful for tears.  I didn’t cry before…didn’t feel like I was capable.  So…for the tears I am grateful…very grateful!

I love my family.  Deeply.  I have been very blessed to have them stick with me through this horrible journey. 

Rob’s my rock, my anchor on this earth and my Savior, my rock in heaven. 

I need them both. 

Thank goodness I have them.
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - June 13, 2010

This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery.  


June 13, 2010

As one who suffers from my fair share of mental turmoil, I am forever on a quest for peace of mind, peace of heart, and peace and quiet.

It dawned on me tonight that while I am constantly in search of peace, I very rarely find it.  It seems as though I am always looking in the wrong places.

Peace does not come from having control of ones surroundings, control of ones emotions, or a lack of children in the household. 

Peace comes from having faith and trusting in Our Heavenly Father to help us through any and all of life’s difficult situations.

Peace of SPIRIT is the only TRUE PEACE.

This knowledge is not an automatic “quick-fix-it-all-and-make-life-grand” piece of information but a reminder that the Lord is with me, He loves me and He wants to see me succeed.  And…that helps someone like me to cope.

Lately I have had the lines to the song “I Need Thee Every Hour” going through my head quite a bit.

I have come to realize that I can’t tackle the anxiety, stress, and my compulsive nature on my own…and never will if I continue to rely on my own strength.

“I NEED THEE, OH I NEED THEE.  EVERY HOUR I NEED THEE…”

I’m so grateful and amazed at the Lords strength I have felt.  He truly has lifted my burdens and made them light when I have called on Him to do so.  I just need to remember to ask.

I’m so grateful for a Heavenly Father who loves me.  He gave me a wonderful husband and has sent me four incredible spirits to love and bring up in His light. 

I’m so grateful for them.
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - September 17, 2010


This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery. 
 
September 17, 2010

(Notes from scripture study that day:)


With God ALL things are possible…even when they seem impossible. 

We can call on God for help.
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - October 11, 2010

This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery. 


October 11, 2010

I’m struggling.  BIG TIME!  My spirits are down with no prospects of looking up.  I’m overwhelmed with all that lies before me and am so down on myself.

I have never felt more self loathing.  I am truly unhappy with myself.  It’s a terrible spiral to be caught up in.  It’s so hard.

I’m again contemplating seeking counseling.  I just can’t do it on my own right now.  I feel like nothing I do is good enough and yet I don’t have the energy to do better.

I am trying to follow the promptings of the Spirit but feel like I could be doing better here too.  It’s such a mess.

I went back and read previous entries (of the private journal) to try and get a boost.  Some things helped.  It’s amazing that the Lord can tell me something over a year ago that still applies today.

I truly have an amazing husband.  My children are blessings from the Lord as well.  I wish I got to actually FEEL it more.  I’m so dead inside I don’t truly FEEL anything.

I want to FEEL again.  I want to laugh again and actually feel it down to my core.  I wonder if I ever will again?
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - January 9, 2011


This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery. 

January 9, 2011

Tonight Gabe had a really hard lesson in “choice and accountability.”  He was given a consequence to bear that he was NOT very happy about and was, in fact, quite devastated over (even though he had been fore warned what the consequence would be before he acted).

I was left to oversee the follow-through (Rob had had enough) and I quietly and calmly reassured him over and over that he could do what had been required of him as payment (for his actions). 

He sobbed and sobbed, eventually calmed down enough to ask if we could “pause for a minute and ask Heavenly Father to help [him].”  I agreed but reminded him that Heavenly Father would not magically do the task for him but that He could bless Gabe with the patience and perseverance to see the job through.  Eventually the task was completed.

Later on, while Rob and I prayed together, Rob prayed that the Lord would help heal Gabe from our mistakes as parents and also that despite our mistakes, Gabe would be able to remain tenderhearted.  As he said those words I was taken back to the incident earlier in the evening.

I could picture Gabe in my mind sobbing, breaking down, devastated and overwhelmed with the weight of his consequences.

I saw myself quietly sitting across the room, offering encouragements (without becoming frustrated or yelling which is quite a feat for me…he he) but not offering any more than that.

Why had I not gone to him?  Offered tangible/physical comfort”

I thought about it…and knew the answer.

In my mind I often confuse consequence with punishment…and…a “punishments should hurt.”  “If it doesn’t HURT them, they NEVER LEARN!” 

Boy…was I wrong.

As Rob continued to pray my minds eye pictured our Heavenly Father with his arms wrapped around us, especially when we have made a wrong choice and are suffering the consequences of that choice.  Consequences, like Gabe, that can make us want to sob, brake down, feel devastation or be overwhelmed.

We have been taught to discipline when we feel it’s important “and then show…forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy” (D&C 121:43)…because that is what God does.

He doesn’t justify our actions.  He doesn’t’ tell us “it’s okay.”  He doesn’t’ take away the consequences, but He can and does help us through those difficult times.  He WILL comfort us and show forth an increase of love.

I, myself, can remember many times he has done that for me.  It was hard but I have never felt the love of my Savior and Heavenly Father more than I did at those times.

WHAT A PROFOUND LESSON TO HAVE BEEN TAUGHT!

I am truly grateful for quiet moments of the day (which are very few and far between) where I can sit and receive insight and answers to my prayers.

I pray that my Father in Heaven will forgive me for overlooking this opportunity to forge a more loving bond between Gabe and I and I pray that I can do better in the future.


forMMM

Private Journal Entry - February 4, 2011

This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery. 


February 4, 2011

I am seeing, and more importantly, feeling a lot of change in my relationship with Gabe.  Things are definitely getting better.  We are seeing more smiles out of him.  I’m glad.

The other night Gabe was very tired and was having a particularly hard time controlling his emotions.  He burst out in sobs over something of little consequence.  Instead of ignoring him, or getting upset with him, I simply asked him if he needed a hug.  He repeatedly replied “no” but came walking towards me anyway and finally threw himself into me as my arms came around him.

I quietly told him that I was sorry he was sad and that if there was anything I could do to help him feel better, to just let me know.

After a few minutes he returned to me and reminded me of my earlier words.  He then requested a longer back scratch at bedtime (one of our nightly "affection showing” things).

I was so proud of him for asking.  That’s a HUGE improvement for him.

As I was scratching his back we talked about him verbalizing his feelings and his need for affection.  I also told him that it was okay for him to just come up and hug me if he felt like it. 

It seemed like a new concept for him.  I hope he follows through with it.

I’m very pleased with the progress we have made in our relationship.  I hope and pray that it just keeps getting better.
forMMM

Private Journal Entry - June 28, 2011

This "private journal entry" was originally written for my eyes only.  A way to express myself openly and truthfully without feeling judged.  The emotions are raw, the writing, blunt and unedited, the feelings are sometimes very hard to revisit (at least the negative ones), but so very very real.

It is now published as part of my mental health timeline.  To start from the beginning, visit: Through Hell and Back (more than once)-Timeline of Recovery and Discovery. 


June 28, 2011

Wow…life is changing so quickly right now.  I have such a sense of purpose…it’s crazy.

On my run this morning, I was contemplating the joy I feel now compared to the darkness I felt just two years ago. 

How grateful I am for the love of my Heavenly Father.  He poured out his mercy on me and has spared me from a life of misery.

I have a feeling that the introduction to MTHFR is going to be HUGE for me and my family.  It has already changed my life so much.

I am just so grateful.  I can’t even express it in words.

I have finally decided to share some of my deepest, darkest moment on my blog.  I’m a little scared (okay, a lot scared) but feel it may be helpful to others.

I pray for guidance. 
forMMM

June 22, 2011

Orange Pride

As if I didn't love my hair before....now I wear it every day with "Orange Pride" for Owen.

Who?  Why?

Owen is a little warrior of a man who went home to his Father in Heaven on May 27, 2011.  He was born in a package of three (yes, triplets) and was received by two loving parents and a doting older brother of 4 years (who, coincidentally, reminds me SO MUCH of Isaac.)

I happened on his mommy's blog on June 7th.  The day they decided to take down little Owen crib. 

I was captivated by her grief, honesty....and most of all strength.  I spent HOURS and HOURS (way past my bedtime) catching up on Owen's story and have been following every since.

 So...to show my support of Owen and the Bissing family...I wear my hair with pride.  And praise my children on the days they wear their orange shirts, too.  :)

God loves little Owen and has a grand purpose for him on the other side.  I only feel sorrow for those he left behind. 

Please pray for the Bissing Family.
forMMM

June 15, 2011

Gardening and it's life parallel

It seems like my brain is constantly going.

I can never do a blasted thing without turning it into some kind of self-analyzing analogy.

This time it was outside in my sweet little garden.

I was just playing in the dirt and couldn't help thinking of how closely my garden, and the amount of time and effort put into it's care over the last few years, has been a reflection of my emotional state at the time (whether I was diving, surviving, or thriving.  What's that?  read here).

Let me explain.


Three summers ago we had just moved to the Tri Cities Area of Washington State.

We didn't plant a garden that year...just a few peppers in a planter.  Some withered and shriveled up.  Others produced rotten' "fruits".  We harvested nothing.

It was a lot like our family that year. 

We had just moved for the 7th time in 4 years.  My husband had just gotten a job, after nine months of unemployment (which included 4 months of living with the in-laws), and my family was falling apart.  I was hopelessly depressed and didn't have enough energy nor did I care, at the time, to make things better.  Most of my relationships had withered and died.  Life was just plain rotten.  I was definitely "diving."

Fast forward to summer of 2010.

Our garden, that year, was coming along nicely.  We spent hours hand tilling the sand (oops..I mean soil, if you could call it that), bought a bunch of plant starts and a few seed packets.  We spent a sunny day planting and were feeling pretty good about it.

That is until we realized that our naivety had gotten the better of us.  Sand-for-soil (doesn't absorb water) + a hill side garden = soil erosion and major flooding of the bottom plants.  The harder we tried to water it the worse it got.  It was sad.

One other fabulous characteristic of south central Washington is the wind.  The HORRIBLE wind.  Just days after planting our meager garden we had a terrible wind storm (over 50 MPH winds) that wreaked havoc on our poor crops.  I remember sitting inside feeling helpless to do anything but praying that they would make it through.  No such luck.  It killed almost every plant in the garden (luckily the seeds hadn't popped their little heads up yet).  We were back at square one and had no money to fix it.  We were left with what had survived the storm (and those that did not die in the storms to come).  I was quite bummed but didn't really know what else to do.  We did end up with a few producing crops but our hopes and dreams of a grand and luxurious harvest were dashed.

Again...kinda like our lives that year.

I had just had bouncing baby #4 (in April) and was trying to recover.  I was dealing with postpartum depression, again, and was working with my doctor and councilor to try to "make things right", again.  I held on from day to day hoping things would get better and somehow my family would not suffer as much as they had the last time but felt somewhat powerless when it came down to really "fixing" things.  We dealt with a lot of less-than-desirable conditions and really struggled with the aftermath of the "storm" (I now had a child suffering from depression as a result of his environment).  We did, in time, see a few improvement as a result of hard work but still felt like we were just barely "surviving."

Enter summer of 2011

Oh...how this year has been different.  Good...different.

For one...our garden in looking awesome.  We have some plants that are already twice the size of what they were at the END of the last years growing season.

The difference...time, knowledge, a zest for success, and the energy to make it happen.

We started by making a few tiers in our hilly planting space...next we dug out trenches around certain plants so that the water has time to absorb into the ground instead of running off.  But the biggest change has been the drive to not give up on my little plant offspring.

At the first sign of wind gust distress I ran out to the garden with a package of large craft like popsicle sticks and some twine and did this:

 and for those that were not big enough to tie a string to,


I was, and still am, determined to do what I can for those little plants so that they can grow and fulfill the measure of their creation.  If that means holding them up until they are strong enough to be on their own or shielding the tiny ones from strong gusts of wind until they are big enough to be supported, then so be it.  And so far...it's working wonderfully.  The plants are thriving and looking more and more promising every day.

Again, I liken that to my family this year.

We are doing better than I thought possible.  It has taken a lot of time, knowledge, a zest for success, and the energy to make it happen (sound familiar?).  I am in a better place, emotionally, than I have been in a long, LONG time.  It has made a HUGE difference on the atmosphere in our home.  We have put a lot of work into making changes that will hopefully yield victory for our forever family.

Like with my plants, I am determined to go to any lengths necessary to help my children grow into wholesome adults with strong testimonies of their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  We are teaching our boys to rely on our knowledge, as parents, until they are prepared to weather the "storms of life" on their own.  We try and shelter them from harmful things and protect them to the best of our abilities.  So far...it's working wonderfully.  Our home is a happier place than it has been in a long time...and looking more promising every day.  We are definitely "thriving."

At times when I feel like I still have "so far to go" it's nice to be able to look back and see improvements.  So for that, I am thankful for this moment of "reflection in the garden."  It gives me hope for even better things to come.
forMMM

June 7, 2011

The story of an unbalanced girl-child Part 3

Missed Part 1 and Part 2?  Go back and read them.  Otherwise this will make no sense at all.

Chapter 4
I was in 9th grade when I was finally so weighed down and so burdened by my previous choices that I couldn't take it any longer.  I had had enough.  I was ready to face any consequences that would result and I unloaded every last burden on my parents.  It was the best decision I ever made.  It was so freeing just to tell someone.  Then I could work on forgive myself.

It wasn't too long after that time that my dad took me to a dermatologist so he could have a look at my hands/wrists.  They were so damaged (so cracked and bloody from all the hand washing) and were extremely painful.  The Dr. asked me a few questions then turned to my dad and said, "I think she needs real help. I think she may need to see a Psychiatrist." 

I was horrified…I think my dad may have been too.

On the way home, he turned to me and said, "Melanie, you can take care of this." (Apparently I was already showing signs of improvement and my parents believed I had enough in me to beat it).

As they say…the rest is history.

 I think I was just so tired and soooooo ready to be done with that period of my life that I fought with all my might to get over it.

Chapter 5
At first I was given allowance to do my routine ONCE a night......ONCE. That was it!

My sister, who I shared a bed with, was given strict instructions not to let me out of my bed after “the ONCE”.  I learned that the world would not cave in on me if I didn't do the routine and eventually I gave it up all together.

I got rid of the bowl next to my bed one step at a time.  First I left it on the floor instead of on the night stand…once I learned that that would NOT make me throw up to do so, it moved under the bed.  When I was ready…it went back to it’s home in the kitchen.

 I will never forget the first night I slept without it.

I came upstairs, the sun was shinning in through the kitchen window, my mom was at the sink actually freeing the bowl of it's years worth of dust.  She turned around, smiled at me, and simply said…

 "You did it."

I smiled too. 

I was such a HUGE feeling of accomplishment.  I can still remember it now…almost 16 years later.

The only complaint my parents had after that was that THEY now had to make sure the house was secured for the night.  They were completely out of practice.  My dad said he was going to miss that much, at least.

Interesting story, huh?

Chapter 6
So…many years later I count myself mostly cured.

I still occasionally catch myself looking for the nearest garbage can in public (movie theaters, the grocery store, the temple, he he it's true), find myself “over washing” when I’ve touched something “nasty”, or switching out a perfectly good kitchen towel for no reason.

I’m still pretty cautious with raw meats (I have very strict handling and cleaning up procedures), but like to think I take “normal” precautions (despite what my hubby says sometimes).  I get better with the birth of each child.  I just don't have the time or energy anymore to go all OCD on my kitchen after cooking meat.  That is a very good thing.  

My husband is very good to humor me by sticking to protocol...and only rolls his eyes occasionally when I inform him that "this area" or "that area" are "contaminated" and he must proceed with caution until I have had a chance to detoxify it.

When I am stressed or heavily sleep deprived (like when I have a new baby or find out my child has nut allergies) I find that the compulsiveness flares it's ugly head and it is harder to fight off.  But...I do my best to fight it nonetheless.

Chapter 7
As with all life experiences, I've learned so much from this one.  

#1 Our minds are an extremely powerful part of us.  You can do or overcome ANYTHING you put your mind to.  And it turns out all-the-better when you ask your Heavenly Father for his help.

#2  Sometimes regrets or guilt from either past or present choices can cause us to feel so much shame and anguish.  It can torment our spirits to the point of illness.  Seeking forgiveness (from the Lord, from a hurt party, or from ourselves) can be the key to freeing the mind and allowing room for healing.

#3 Fear is the absence of faith.  It can eat you alive unless you learn to TRUST. 

Learn to trust in the Lord, learn to trust in yourself, and, for those of us who are germ-a-phobic maniacs, learn to trust in Clorox and/or Lysol disinfectant products (oh...and wear disposable gloves while handling meat if you have to).  :)



So do YOU have any quirky compulsive behaviors you'd be willing to share? 

Do tell!
forMMM

June 6, 2011

The story of an unbalanced girl-child Part 2

Haven't read part 1, start here.

Chapter 2
I stopped eating anything I could EVER remember anyone throwing up (who remembers where they were in 1st grade when little Kimberly threw up in class…plus remembers what she ate (corndogs) that day?  Me...I do).

I truly believed that if I avoided these foods I would NEVER throw up again. 

In fact, I went 7 years without eating a bowl of Rice Krispies because a little girl we babysat, named Tori, threw them up on my pillow when I was like 4 or 5.  (It was my freshmen year of college people...COLLEGE! when I finally talked myself into it.)

I developed an extreme fear of raw meats (especially chicken with its “invisible” juices). 

I became a prisoner in my own home. I refused to touch ANYTHING in the kitchen with my hands (what if someone didn’t wash their hands well enough?).  I opened everything with my feet…fridge, dishwasher, cupboards, even the upper cupboards (luckily for me I was a gymnast and I could reach them that way).

If for some reason I did touch a handle/door knob (anything “unsanitary”), I would wash my hands 2-3 times in one room and sneak off to another to wash them another 2-3 times.  I never dried them off (who knew what kind of germs were on those towels) and sometimes I STILL didn’t feel clean (a little hand sanitizer would have been nice).

I constantly spit everywhere (in the sink, on the ground, in my sleeves) at very odd, random times because I would envisioned germs "magically" jumping into my mouth and had to spit them out so I wouldn't get sick.

Real logical, huh?

Oh no…it gets worse. 

Chapter 3
I slept with a large sized salad bowl next to my bed (I was like a boy scout.  Always prepared…just in case, you know).

I avoided stepping on the particular section of carpet that my brother threw up on.  Why?  Because somehow stepping on that spot might make me sick (I jumped over it for YEARS). 

I, over time, also developed a nightly routine. It consisted of things that could either hinder my way in getting to the toilet in time, or, bizarre enough, things that would burn my house down. 

(You see, I had had a few friends whose houses burned down, (one because of a curling iron and one because clothes got under the water heater) and I was terrified it would happen to me.

Once the routine was in full swing, it went something like this:

Bathroom: Toilet seat up, ALL small appliances (curling irons, blow dryers, etc) unplugged, rugs straight, shower curtain pulled closed, flick lights on and off in increments of 7, check everything all over again.......exit.

Hall:  Floor clear…rug straight...exit.

Kitchen: Unplug all small appliances (toasters, etc), straighten rugs, check and re-check back door lock (lock/unlock in 7’s), lights (again in 7's), stand in the doorway panicking and wondering if I missed anything (if I believed I had…I would check it all over again)....exit.

Living Room:  I only had to make sure the lamps were unplugged, since it was out of the way and I wasn’t afraid of anything blocking my way to the bathroom.....exit.

Hall (again): Straighten already straightened rug.

Down the stairs (which had to be clear, of course) to the landing (split entry).

Entry:  Straighten rug.......flick inside and outside lights on and off in increments of 7, bolt and unbolt the dead bolt also in 7's times.......re-straighten the rug.......down the next flight of stairs…same routine on the next landing...exit.

Laundry room:  Check under the water heater for clothes. Recheck under the water heater for clothes. Swipe the broom under the water heater for dirt, dust....and of course, any clothes.  Then, down on my knees to "just make sure" there were no...you guessed it, clothes.  Push all clothes as far away from the heater as possible......flick lights in 7's….exit.

 Finally…MY room:  Once there I would crawl into bed, pull my bowl out from underneath and set it on the table next to my bed….breath a sigh of relief.

At least for 2 or 3 seconds.

Most of the time, I would worry that I had missed something and I would go do the whole routine again.  If I was still awake when one of my teenage siblings came home late, I would lie in bed listening for them to go to bed and start the routine all over again.

Sometimes it would be done 3 or 4 times in one night.

Sounds exhausting, doesn't it?

Well.....it was.

Extremely exhausting!
So how did I ever pull out of it?

Stay tuned for part 3.  
forMMM

The story of an unbalanced girl-child Part 1

So this is not a story...more like a novel.  I apologize.  To make for easier reading or in case you need a bathroom break, I have broken it up into 3 parts.  I hope you enjoy reading at my expense.  It's a bit "nutty" but very true.  Sad, yet funny.

This post is adapted from the original "the story of a 'crazy'..."  August 6, 2008 on my other blog Testosterone Overload.

Disclaimer : The story that follows is my personal experience, and not intended to make light the seriousness of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), or anyone who suffers from it. Having suffered from it myself I can assure you that it is a very REAL disorder that, for me, took over my rational mind and was very difficult to overcome. These things, these fears, for me were VERY real and in essence, ruled my every action.  It took all the will power I possessed (and an older sister who was ordered to keep a very close eye on me at night) to break free.  Having said that I can now say that I quite enjoy these memories and get a good laugh out of them...and I hope you will too.

Prologue (he he...novel...get it?)
I'm sure at one point I was a normal, healthy, carefree child.  

I went through a period of time, very early in life (like mid elementary school), where I made some pretty bad choices ("kids will be kids"...blah blah blah...I knew better).  I was so ashamed of myself that I kept these acts a secret for many years.  Coincidentally, these were the same years I suffered from my worst obsessive compulsive symptoms.  Looking back, I can now see that the guilt from this burden of secrecy was too great a weight for me to carry.  I felt alone...I felt afraid.  
 
Prologue Notes
OCD is a type of anxiety and anxieties are caused by what?......FEAR!

So, essentially, anything I was afraid of I had to try and take "control" of (by setting up rules, routines, regulations), so that I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore.  Unfortunately, in the process of trying to control these fears, I lost control.
 

Here’s my story.
 
Chapter 1
I was afraid of throwing up.

I had not thrown up since I was quite young (3-4) and had forgotten what it was like (nothing is scarier than the unknown, right?).  I mean, no one likes to throw up, but I was actually afraid of it…deathly afraid of it.

One day in sixth grade a boy in my class threw up on the stairs to our class trailer.  We all had to step over it to get back to class and I had to sit next to him (he didn’t even go home). I must have been really embarrassed for him because I went home and told my mom how bad I felt.

No so many months later, a little first grader vomited in front of a roomful of people while we were practicing Spanish Christmas carols (I was in Spanish immersion and every year we sang Christmas carols at the mall).  His teacher grabbed the nearest garbage can and ran out with him.  He continued barfing while he walked around all of us.  Not only did it make me sick to my stomach (and I worried that I would throw up) but I was mortified for him.  Poor little dude.

These events made my fears really take root.  I, unconsciously, began making lists of rules for myself that would take me YEARS to let go.

Rule #1
NEVER throw up in public.  I mean, if I was going to throw up I did NOT want it to be in front of other people (it’s embarrassing).  I became uneasy in confined spaces, large crowds, places that were hard to just get up and leave from and anywhere else I felt “trapped”.

Rule #2
When in public, always keep track of the nearest garbage can. That way, I would always have a place to barf instead of the floor.  Less mess...less embarrassment.

Our classroom, at school, was really small. I started suffering from anxiety attacks around age 11.  I would get all of this pent up fear inside and it would cause my stomach to do flips which would make me think I had to throw up (remember, I couldn't remember what it ACTUALLY felt like to be nauseated so I had no idea that I wasn't actually sick).  I would start to panic and I would fidget like crazy (which won me some pretty weird looks.)

It didn't take me too long to learn that if I could just walk around a bit and breath I could calm myself down (I still use this technique sometimes).  I started keeping an extra pencil on my desk so that if I did start to panic I could get up and pretend it needed sharpening (my counselors have thought this was pretty ingenious for an 11 year old).

As time went on my fears began to grow and I started incorporating more compulsions in order to secure more “control.”  If I bent a finger on my right hand, I had to bend the same finger on the left hand, if I tapped one foot 5 times, I had to tap the other foot 5 times.  I didn't even dare step on cracks on the sidewalk.  I would tell myself that if I didn’t do these things correctly then something bad would happen or it would mean that I was a horrible person.  It was really bizarre.

One time my brother got food poisoning at a restaurant and threw up on my mom's new sage green carpet. She spent hours scrubbing spaghetti sauce from said carpet and was exhausted by morning.  I heard her saying something about wishing he had made it to the bowl.  You know…the kind of thing ANY mother would say after hours and hours of sopping up red-stained green carpet (and walls and cupboards) in the middle of the night.

Well…that was it for me.  I was determined that my mother would never have to go through something like that again.  At least not because of me.

My answer:  I stopped eating red sauce on my spaghetti.
  
And that was only the beginning.  
forMMM 
find Part 2 here.

What do you think so far?
 

June 2, 2011

What we desire...we will become

want to be,green 

I happened on this earlier this morning. 

And loved it.


Elder Dallin H. Oaks is such a profound orator. 

Here are a few of my favorite parts...

"...what we insistently desire, over time, is what we will eventually become..."

It does NOT say that we have to be whomever it is we REALLY WANT to be NOW, but that if we persistently, adamantly, resolutely, DESIRE it (and dictate our actions accordingly)...eventually we WILL become it.

That is awesome!

Sometimes I feel like I lose focus of what I really WANT to become because I am so focused on what I am NOT. 

How about you? 

(Naw...I bet you are not as self depreciating as I am...wink, wink)

Okay...so this is another awesome part...

"Desires dictate our priorities, priorities shape our choices, and choices determine our actions.

The desires we ACT on determine our changing, our achieving and our becoming."


 So I ask...

Who do you want to be when you grow up? 

Are you ready to put forth the effort to become that person?

Care to share?
forMMM
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