Missing My Grandma

It's 5:00am, and even though I only have about 3 hours of sleep behind me, I can't seem to shut my mind off. I lay awake in my bed that sits in the room my grandmother lived most of her life in and all I can think about is her not being here. 

It's still surreal to me to think about a life without my Grandma Jean in it. As I lay here,  thinking about her living her vibrant days in this house that I now spend my days in,  my heart starts to miss her unending optimism and zest for life, but I am comforted as I can feel her on the other side and I can feel her happiness. For she has her mind back, and she is free from physical pain and limitations that she can now live with all that vibrance and zest yet again.

Although I don't know exactly how things are in the spirit world - I don't know if there are young children spirits or if all are adults, but I simply can't imagine a world without little children. And my heart swells with joy as I think about my Grandma joyfully teaching kids again. For anyone who has lost a child in this life, I hope you can take comfort in knowing that they have recently gained an incredible woman in their lives who will bring them joy, music, and education. I am certain that my grandmother is choosing to spend her time and her talents with the kids. And she is making them feel loved beyond measure.

So although I lay here, missing my sweet Grandma, I am so, so happy for her and the joy that I know she is feeling.

The Sunday struggle is real, but it is worth it

Due to illness, travel, more illness, and utter exhaustion due to said illnesses, it has been a few weeks since we have attended church as a family. The struggle to get there today was not any easier than all those of Sundays past, but oh how I have missed attending church together as a family, and I was bound and determined to get there today. We made it -- almost an hour late -- but we made it, and I am beyond grateful we did.

More often than not, getting to church seems like such a difficult chore. Some Sundays (most Sundays), getting to church is an enormous challenge for our little family. With anxiety -- be it mine or Belle's or Charlotte's or all -- getting ready for any day is a battle, but with Sundays, sometimes it turns into a full on war.

No matter how well prepared I think I am, it is never enough. Every Saturday night, I try to prepare by laying out everyone's Sunday outfits - down to the socks, shoes, and hair accessories. I try to prepare my kids mentally for the fact that church is coming up the next day, and when they wake up, we will need to get ready and go. I have activities planned and ready for them to keep them quiet during Sacrament meeting. And I have my checklist of all that needs to be done to make it to church on time. With all the preparations in place, my mind and body ready for the battle; without fail, Sunday morning arrives, and I feel like it was all in vain.

One child refuses to wear the outfit I picked out, simply because I picked it out. It's okay, I anticipated it - so plans B, and C are hanging in her closet for "her" to choose. Then comes time to do the hair, oh the hair. I don't even want to talk about the hair - because it is PURE TORTURE each and every day, which is why most days, it doesn't get touched. Yet, I beg and plead with my child just to let me brush through it, so she can look her Sunday best. Sometimes, I go into this battle with a determination to get through it no matter what dodges, screams, and shrieks come my way. Other days, I decide I don't have the strength for it, and to save my strength for something more important like shoes. Yes,SHOES.

I know all you parents of kids with anxiety, autism, SPD, OCD, any and all of the above, know what I'm talking about. I have one child who can't stand to wear socks, another who has to wear socks (no matter the type of shoe), but her socks have to be just perfect without a loose strand, not too big, not too small, definitely not too much bulk, and heaven forbid any type of pattern is sewn into them. Oh, and don't you worry, the socks that she wore without a problem last week, they "just don't feel right" today. Once we finally find a pair of socks to feel just right, then comes my mighty prayer that today, her shoes will feel okay. Because, you guessed it, the shoes that she begged for at the store, the only shoes that felt okay to her, now feel funny. We slip one shoe on, and then it begins -- the blood curdling scream that I prayed we would avoid. The sound hits my ears, and I just don't think I can do this again. I remove myself from the room to take a breather, scream into a pillow, and cry wondering why we can't ever just make it to church on time for once in my parental lifetime. I give myself a pep talk, and head back out of my room. If I made the sound of a war cry, this is probably the time it would take place. I will NOT give up. I will NOT give in. I will spare you the details of the battle that continues on, just know it usually comes with lots of tears, clothes being torn off, a terrible case of itchiness, and so on, until finally, we are on our way out the door -- with a child in slippers or snow boots -- as tears still fill all of our eyes as we silently pray to make it through the day.

Once we get to church, the battle is not over. We still have to work on getting them to go to their classes without a child clinging to my side or tears and sobs flowing freely as I push them away. Some days are better than others, and most days, Daddy has to step in because I am too weak to keep on with the fight.

Then finally, I make it 20 minutes late into my own Sunday school class, and I can sit and I breathe. And then I wonder why we continue to do this. I wonder if this constant struggle is truly worth it. As I begin to wonder, I turn to the scriptures we are learning from today for our lesson, and Heavenly Father answers my prayers. He answers them so clearly, as no else can. He focuses the lesson on the Sabbath Day, and I am reminded of the sacredness of HIS day. I am filled with the spirit - a spirit of sorrow and repentance, but also I spirit of strength and renewal. I am reminded that the struggle is so real, but that it is also so worth it.

In Doctrine & Covenants 59, we are instructed,
"Thou shalt offer a sacrifice unto the Lord they God in righteousness, even that of a broken heart and a contrite spirit. 

And that thou mayest more fully keep thyself unspotted from the world, thou shalt go to the house of prayer and offer up thy sacraments upon my holy day..."
         
"... But remember that on this, the Lord's day, thou shalt offer thin oblations and thy sacraments unto the Most High, confessing they sins unto thy brethren and before the Lord."

Getting to church is so dang hard, but it makes the blessings that come from it that much more rewarding. Fighting the battle to get to church, is one way that I can offer up mine oblations. It is a sacrifice for us to get to church, but it is one that we can and should offer up to the Lord.

I have often felt guilty that my Sundays don't always go as I have always envisioned they should. My Sundays today do not look anything like they did when I was a single, returned missionary who could dedicate my day to scripture study and service. And I know that my Sundays in twenty years will look much different than they do today. The oblations I offer up to my Lord will change over time, but for now, one of the greatest sacrifices I can make is to face the challenge it is just to get to church. I can teach my children, His children by example. I can teach them that going to church is not always easy, but it is how we show our love and devotion for our Savior and Father in Heaven. And in return, we will be blessed.

We need church. I need church. My husband needs church. And my kids need church. It often comes with a lot of hurdles, but what sweet relief and renewal I feel, when we make it over them.

. . . and on with the fight . . .

I don't have a title for this post and not sure where it's going, so maybe by the time I get to the end, I will figure it out. I just know that I've neglected this blog that I promised to get back into ... and yet, here I am, more than two months later, with no updates . . .

. . . That, folks, is the story of my life right now: well-meaning intentions of getting so many things done, and yet, having no time, no energy, and/or no money to get them done. Maybe some day I will learn how to set realistic expectations for myself - just another goal of mine that I probably won't accomplish. (Oh, the never-ending cycle.) 

Nevertheless, I will move forward with my goal of writing and I will continue on with this post.

As you may remember from my last post, I expressed my excitement to be entering this new world of medication to help treat anxiety with my daughter. All that I said is true, and I am glad I re-read it for my own good - to remember the positive experiences that we have had since starting the meds. However, I think this entry is going to bring me right back to the realities of mental illness - more specifically, the reality that it is not "fixed" quite as easily as just taking a pill.

I feel like the first weeks after starting medication, we had this amazing opportunity to experience what life is like without a debilitating mental illness in our second grader. However, I almost feel like we were in a stage of "euphoria," if you will. It was only a matter of time before her body became accustomed to this new medication, and the realities of anxiety came back to remind us that this will be a life-long battle. This is a fight that Belle will have to fight every day - some days she'll have to fight harder than others, and some days she might be blessed to feel like there isn't a need to fight - but the fact remains that her anxiety did not and will not just disappear with the swallowing of a pill every morning. The challenges of the disease might be made a little easier, and she will feel more capable of taking on those challenges, but they will still be there. The hurdles won't disappear, but she now has a tool to help her build enough strength and endurance to get over those hurdles. So the fact remains that even though we don't have a magical pill to make our problems disappear, I am still grateful for the one we have to help us face them.

As we continue to work on navigating this world of mental illness with our 7 year-old, it is becoming more and more apparent that we are just beginning a life-long process of facing this mortal challenge with not only Belle, but with our younger two children as well. Some days, it feels beyond overwhelming and I feel overcome with defeat. Facing the challenges every single day of kids melting down because their socks and shoes don't feel right, seeing the tears in their eyes as they fight leaving the house and going to school because it just feels too hard that day (every day), dealing with headaches and tummy aches when the stress is too much for them (and for me), and trying to coach them to breathe when the anxiety becomes so much that their body goes into panic mode - it is daunting, it is exhausting, and some days I feel like I cannot keep going. I can't keep doing this.

The thought of doing this for the next lifetime makes me want to crawl under a rock (or really into my comfy bed, under the comforting heavy-weight of my covers, in a dark, quiet room) and never come out. I feel like I am not the person to do this. I am nowhere close to patient enough, nor am I smart enough, strong enough, or healthy enough to fight these challenges every day. I keep thinking to myself, I AM NOT QUALIFIED for this job. I am not qualified to be the mother of these kids and to help them become the best people they can.

Luckily, there are days like today, when I am reminded that although it is true - I am not qualified - I have a Savior who is qualified and who is there to help carry me through my burdens. And although my family is faced with this challenge, it is part of our mortal journey, that if faced with faith and endurance, will teach us, will strengthen us, and will make us better. This thing that makes us feel so far away from perfection can actually be something that brings us closer to perfection if we allow it to. So we will keep on with our fight. I will keep trying to be the mom I need to be. And I will keep praying and hoping that I can somehow help my children turn this challenge into something good. We will work to allow our Savior to help us transform our weaknesses into strengths.

Although our daily pill is not a magic one that has solved all our problems, we will remember that it is just one of the blessings made available to us to help lighten our burdens a little. I hope and pray for others who are facing their own challenges - whether they be a mental illness, a physical challenge, or a financial burden - will, too, be able to find the blessings provided to them to help lighten their load. I hope they, too, will be able to turn to their Savior, to feel the enabling, redeeming, strengthening, and comforting powers of His atonement in their own life.

I am grateful for days like today, and the opportunity to hear from our Prophet and the Lord's apostles, to provide enlightenment and reminders that I can do this. We can do this. We can keep on with the fight.

https://www.lds.org/?lang=eng

Reaching a new phase of our battle with anxiety

It has been well over two years since I have posted on my blog, and here I go, once again. I have been feeling the need to blog for the last little while, but have continued to put it off for other things like work, kids, sleep, cleaning, cooking, netflix-and-chilling, and so on. Yet, I continue to feel the push to write things down, so I am going to try and make the time around my two paying jobs, my 3 kids, my husband who works non-stop as a business owner, and my house that is in desperate need of attention. I will write, and hopefully you will forgive me for my middle-of-the-night, nonsensical rambling.

As you can imagine, I have a few years of experiences and  a few years worth of thoughts built up in my crazy mommy brain, so I have a lot to catch up on. I will do my best to make some type of logical sense in my posts as I try to sum it all up. Hopefully, by some point in the near future, my posts will start to come together with some fluidity, and I can write based on the here and now, and not feel like I'm playing a game of catch-up.

But for now, the topic that is at the forefront of my mind, and the topic I keep feeling the push to write about is that of my recent experiences and lessons that I have learned as the mother of a child with a severe anxiety disorder.

I don't want to overshare about my family and especially my children. I hate to publish something available for all to read about one of my children, who, in ten years, really wishes I wouldn't have. With that being said, I will try to be careful with what I share, but I also want to allow my experiences, thoughts, and feelings to provide support to someone who might need it -- or just simply to help someone feel like they are not alone in the struggles they face.

So on I go . . .

Most of my family and friends are well aware of the challenges we have been facing the last few years with our 7-year-old daughter, Belle; as she, my husband, and I have all tried to navigate this confusing and frustrating world of generalized anxiety. Although, this is something we have been dealing with for quite some time, I feel like the last month has been one of the most enlightening for me. I have finally reached a place of acceptance -- which I think in turn, has also brought about more peace in our home than we have had in quite some time.

Anxiety is not that new to me. Having dealt with my own anxiety from the time I was a child, I have approached this particular challenge of parenthood with what I feel like has been an open mind and, more importantly, a true understanding of the challenges and emotions of anxiety. However, with that being said, Belle's anxiety is new to me in that it is different than my own. Trying to figure out how to help her cope with the anxiety is new to me in that I am only recently learning how my own anxiety affects me. I am still learning, and that has become increasingly clear as the last few weeks have brought me to new levels of understanding. I feel as though our family is entering a new phase of life with anxiety, and let me tell you, this new phase feels refreshing.

So what has brought us to this new phase? What has inspired all the recent learning? I would say it was what my sister refers to as the "breaking point." I finally reached a point where I knew that no amount of empathy, no amount of research, no amount of patience, endurance, or just plain grit was going to help Belle truly deal with this mental illness. I reached a point where I finally understood that anxiety was controlling Belle, and she was never going be able to gain that control back without the help of medication.

Now before you dismiss me as "one of those moms" who simply doesn't do what it takes to discipline my child or provide the structure she needs, who hasn't made the effort to teach my child or try alternative or "more natural" methods to overcoming anxiety, please know that I did do ALL of that and then some. She has been in weekly therapy, we have taken parenting classes, and I have read more about anxiety and parenting then I could even tell you. I was not quick to just put my child on medication because it was the easy way out, nor do I feel like medication is the answer for everyone. However, now that I am "one of those moms," I have to say, and somewhat shamefully admit, that my understanding of anxiety (and mental illness) has grown immensely. Seeing my daughter become herself again and the changes that have taken place after only a few weeks of medication has been truly amazing, and it has taught me more than I realized it would.

There were things I "knew" about mental illness, and that I would even proclaim - like that it is an illness just like any other - it is an illness that should not carry shame with it. It is an illness that sometimes requires medication to be managed, and it is an illness that you cannot overcome alone. Heck, I have dealt with mental illness personally for most of my life; for years, I have worked with medical professionals treating mental illness, and I have gotten to know patients dealing with mental illness. I "knew" in my mind what it was like to suffer from a mental illness. I knew what the books and research and doctors said about it. But to be honest, although I knew all of those things, I did not truly, internally, believe or understand them. And I think the reason I did not believe them, is because I could not ACCEPT those facts about myself.

I am a big believer in self-mastery. I have long felt that mental illness was like any other human weakness and could be overcome with a lot of hard work and persistence, and I still believe that -- to an extent -- but my beliefs about that have evolved a little. Being the independent person that I am, with a little more pride than I'd like to admit; and of course, being the overly controlling person that I am (due to my anxiety - haha), I wanted to believe that ultimately I was the one in control of my life, and that meant that I had the power to control my own anxiety. I had the power to overcome my mental illness -- no assistance needed (including medication). If I could overcome my mental illness with my own efforts, then surely most other people could too -- including my daughter.

I did not want to accept the fact that I might be one of those people, and my daughter might be one of those people who needs medication to function more normally. At the medical office I have worked with for the last 9 years, we treat patients dealing with substance abuse -- or addiction. I have witnessed the true dependency upon medication that people can develop. I did not ever want to become someone dependent upon medication for the remainder of my life, and I definitely did not want to subject my daughter to that type of dependency. I have always wanted for us both to be able to thrive on our own - to get through life without having to be dependent upon a treatment, especially a pill.

.... But then I hit that breaking point. (More to come on that later.) 

It became apparent to me that my daughter needed medication to help her gain control of her anxiety. She needed medication to function like a normal 7-year-old girl. She needed medication in order to gain the control of her own mind and body required to even have the ability to recognize her anxiety. And THEN we could finally start to move forward with teaching her skills to cope with it.

I feel like a new world has been opened to us. My daughter has found happiness again that was being taken away from her by that cruel anxiety. The changes have been much greater than I could have ever anticipated. And for once, I feel like we can conquer this challenge.