tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3144196307450259612024-03-04T23:40:30.125-08:00Tu mari jan chaya discovery of lifeElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.comBlogger276125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-62283945546997051342019-08-17T14:32:00.000-07:002019-08-18T05:48:48.248-07:00Chronic Acceptance <br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Hi. My name is ElisaBeth and I am depressed. I feel squeamish
writing that sentence. You would </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_TIBTW2I8rsdzFIDcPBxa6i26zKL6Hwsje35OeFbm1JS2C4uVruh6iJuaZKdywpYRdsJ7mrenwLHw_H8cHwPn-e7d-pp0vHlzcactUx1C0_d6TkTDSuCADAYD3bHo2G43fmzmp8/s1600/dep+e.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_TIBTW2I8rsdzFIDcPBxa6i26zKL6Hwsje35OeFbm1JS2C4uVruh6iJuaZKdywpYRdsJ7mrenwLHw_H8cHwPn-e7d-pp0vHlzcactUx1C0_d6TkTDSuCADAYD3bHo2G43fmzmp8/s320/dep+e.HEIC" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">think after dealing with chronic depression
for six years I’d have accepted my fate and as my counselor so eloquently said “view
it as an adventure that not many people experience.” Most of the time I feel
quite the opposite and believe I’m plagued by a disease that wants to devour me
and am viewed by others as the one with the problems… a total mental screw up who
is spiritually dry and to blame for the unending misery she finds herself in. </span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It’s hard taking a dip in the frigid pool of darkness again
after experiencing some really warm years of “normalcy.” The invisible bar of perfection,
fake happiness and having it all together plagued me long before I understood depression.
And now it has followed me to measure my “success” in dealing with my mental
illness. After putting in the hundreds of hours of therapy, learning to live
with my panic attacks and infuriating anxiety, making a choice to mostly surf
on top of the waves of my emotions, speak openly about my journey to help
eliminate the shame and stare the dreaded thoughts of escape square in the face;
I expected to be good. Didn’t I do all that was required of a person with
depression? I don’t want to stare into my soul anymore and figure out why I am
the way I am. I thought I finally saw who I was supposed to be and that was it.
The boxes had been checked… in my mind I not only grazed the top of the bar but
I swung around and around and stuck my landing in such a way that I would have
won a gold medal in the Olympics. And maybe that’s what I expected. To perfectly
recover from depression making it disappear and leaving me with a golden badge
of “been there done that.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Life doesn’t work like that. Having a chronic illness doesn’t
work like that. I may have been able to manage my symptoms really well for a
while, but in the end, it is always there… lurking underneath. Waiting for
something to shake it out of me again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">But that’s not the way I want to look at it. I want to learn
to love and accept that part of me again. The part of me that has been changed
in a positive way by battling this disease. The part that has courageously
asked for help again and again because I know I can’t fight alone. The part that
understands how joy has taken a whole new meaning in my life. The darker, heavier
and complacent parts that help me empathize with others. And the part that
helps me see God’s love and goodness, mercy and grace but also knows that He
can take my anger and hurt and moments of mistrust. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I don’t know my future. But I do know I will continue to work hard… going forward whether up or
down. Accepting I am who I am and I am loved. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span>ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-91773334124725007372019-05-06T09:20:00.002-07:002019-05-06T09:21:00.470-07:00A Beautiful Realization <br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;">A few months ago I stood in
front of a room filled mostly with strangers and shared my story. I wanted to
share a piece of myself with these beautiful mothers who attended MOPs (moms of
preschoolers) because I thought if it could help just one mama it would be worth
being vulnerable. The process of writing what I was going to share was another
step in my life long refinement as a follower of Christ. Reliving moments that I sometimes wished to
forget. Remembering the pain of the disease. Being shown again that even in my
lowest of lows God's still small voice was there. He never left me. </span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;">In
honor of mental health awareness month I again share my story. Not to show you
how far I've come (the growth will never end), nor to exemplify myself as a
poster child of postpartum depression, not even to celebrate the fact that I survived. God is SO much more than the small speck of dust that is my story. This life full of suffering is meaningless if it were not for my beloved Savior who points me again and again to Him and reminds me that the joyful moments of life are just a taste of what is to come.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;">*******************************************************************************************************<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;">As I was trying to figure out what piece of my
very complex story I wanted to share with you all today the following
statements came to me:</span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">You are enough, He is always there even when you
could care less, it wasn’t your fault, it is an illness, you are loved,
acceptance leads to peace.</span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">You see the past 7 years have been the most
refining of my life thus far. In fall 2012 I left all I had known as a young
adult and mama and moved from Connecticut to Lancaster PA. I was 7 months pregnant
and had a 2.5-year-old at the time. I left my job and became a stay at home mom
overnight. I went from being just outside of NYC to living in a land known for
its Amish, its cows and its ice cream. I was desperately alone with no
community and changes were being thrown left and right… the perfect petri dish
for depression.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">Being unable to shake the baby blues a few months
after giving birth to my son, I wondered if this is just what life was like
with 2 kids. Lifeless, dull, one note, void of joy, sad and constricting. But
when my home started to feel like a prison and my interests in working on
anything in my life besides keeping my kids relatively happy waned, I knew
something else had to be going on. It was then in March of 2013 that I was
diagnosed with postpartum depression and anxiety. </span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">It is a tough road to be on... the inability to
control feelings can be crippling. The very idea that I was depressed made me
feel full of shame. What was I doing wrong? Why couldn’t I just be happy? My
life was amazing couldn’t I see that? Isn’t prayer supposed to fix this? Just
snap out of it. I felt as though I was trapped in a well of darkness, clinging
to a ladder that pointed up to the surface, the numb feeling of sadness
threatening to overcome me and the darkness below ready to envelope me. I was
fighting for my life and, the hardest part, not blaming myself for where I was
at. I was sick. I had to accept over and over again that depression is an
illness.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCKkozt8bNxH7_tfyiAX5pl94biDFfV4jP0Z-kq7MAb75-rNPhoTdjlLzCCLorf-shN9i_WjMBrKHtfq3BlQgfV5GhIq5BGbYin8RkbbzDszAu1I10CmbdDPkIghgnf9hUGLNUPQ/s1600/that+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCKkozt8bNxH7_tfyiAX5pl94biDFfV4jP0Z-kq7MAb75-rNPhoTdjlLzCCLorf-shN9i_WjMBrKHtfq3BlQgfV5GhIq5BGbYin8RkbbzDszAu1I10CmbdDPkIghgnf9hUGLNUPQ/s320/that+day.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">Depression is very good at distorting the truth.
It manufactures lies. It makes you want to isolate yourself and not tell
anyone. It yells that you are worthless. That you’re a burden and those closest
to you would be better off without you.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">t was in July 2013 that I had a plan to end my
life. But God had different plans. His still small voice triggered the
courageous warrior woman inside of me to call my husband when I wanted to veer
off the road and to then explain to him what else I had planned. Together we
made the courageous decision to check me into a psychiatric hospital for 72
hours. And that was the beginning… I had been completely burned down. Now it
was time to rebuild. Brick by brick. My experiences through that time changed
me forever and I come to you a new and fully formed daughter of God. </span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">I wish I could tell you that getting through
those intense years meant I had paid my dues to the “hard knocks of life fund”
and all was smooth sailing after that. But it wasn’t… that’s life… one curve
ball after another. I had to accept that I might deal with depression
indefinitely, I experienced a miscarriage and a year ago my husband lost his
job. We now find ourselves coming full circle… restarting our lives in a new
area once again. But one of the things I have learned through this journey is
that circumstances change all the time, but God is forever constant and
faithful. </span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">I want to end by sharing a poem I wrote about a
year after my hospital stay. At this point in my recovery I was extremely angry
at God for all of my suffering. And how at times I felt I wasn’t getting any
better. It was hard for me to sing at church and I could barely speak to Him.
One night as I was wrestling with the this I sat down and wrote this.</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">A Beautiful Realization</span></i></b><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">You
know who you are</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">You
see her right there</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">She's
the one staring</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Her
eyes glimmering, Her skin fair</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">You
see every flaw</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Every
sin</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Every
shame</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">But
do you see the girl who is no longer in such pain?</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Can
you look past where you are</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">To
see where you've come from?</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">You've
climbed reach-less mountains</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">You've
discovered the sun!</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Don't
dwell on the battles that are sure to still come</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">But
turn your head toward the victories you've already won</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">God
has been there too</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">or
would you rather forget?</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">He
is the one who saved you</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">AND
He's not finished yet</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">So
open your eyes my dear beloved one.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Give
yourself mercy...</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Give
yourself the Son</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Beauty
and strength</span></div>
<div align="center" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: center; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Courage
and might</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">They
have all helped you win</span></div>
<div align="center" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: center; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Helped
you fight the good fight</span></div>
<div align="center" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: center; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Now
look again</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">See
the girl who has come so far</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">You
can do this, you can beat this</span></div>
<div align="center" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: center; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">You
are who you are</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Beauty
HE made you</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Beauty
HE sees</span></div>
<div align="center" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: center; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">And
He is real, He is there</span></div>
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</div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">He
comes to you like the warm ocean breeze</span></div>
<div align="center" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: center; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-86969150442679879702019-02-21T21:08:00.000-08:002019-02-21T21:08:29.158-08:00Hope for a Hopeless Day<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">6 years ago, my battle with postpartum depression started. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">4 years ago, I recognized and accepted depression would be
something that may never leave me. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">3 months ago, I was injured and had to stop running after
being consistent for 1.5 years… running helped me fight those dark days. I
credited running to feeling the best I had felt, mentally and physically, in 6
years. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I lost running around the time I lost my dog. I lost running
around the time the reality of our move had settled in. I lost running when the
cold stark grey days of my first northern Illinois winter moved in. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I was so fearful of what was next. Was I going to dip into
the darkness for longer periods of time without my running? Was I going to
start obsessively worrying about my body image? Was I strong enough to find
other ways to help my spirits? Would I lose all that I had worked for the last
18 months?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“WHY GOD!? WHY? Why did you take away the ONE thing that I
thought you gave me to fight? The one thing that stayed constant in my life
after so many changes? The one thing that I could turn to and know would always
give me the boost I needed?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And yet… Jesus Himself was all of that. He IS all of that. I
have been reminded over these past months that it is not the running that saves
me and that helps me grow stronger… it is the acceptance that “when I am weak,
He is strong.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">This morning was tough. We’ve been struggling with sickness
in our house again which carries its own bag of difficulties… exhaustion,
isolation, loneliness, restlessness. These can be triggers for me, especially the
feeling of being closed in and stuck. It is so easy to let my mind race back to
my past struggles when triggered if I am not careful. As I drove to drop the
older kids off at school the day loomed before me like an endless chasm. The
stabbing physical pain of emptiness kept punching me in the heart. How could I
do this day? Hopelessness started to overwhelm my mind and my years of training
“what to do when down” kicked in.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Running.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Nope can’t do that. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Visiting my friends?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I am still in the baby stages of forming friendships.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And in that moment, I had a choice. I could choose to throw
a massive pity party for myself and let my emotions and feelings entrench me,
or I could choose to do something else. God gave me the strength to do the
latter because if it was fully up to me, I would have started to blow up the
balloons. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The sun was deceptively bright and though it was only 25
degrees I decided to take a walk. Making a mental note not to look at the clock,
I started to gather layers of clothing for Colin and I. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>This reminded me of the joy that mindfulness
can bring… the way being right here and right now allows for the pain of hopelessness
to melt away. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">As I started to walk down the street with Colin on my back
and the sun shinning brightly on my face, </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPnyrjq8uNqsWi_0CeUCD3L_7w7J4YxRcS00hTewTue5Y7LluciLDrQ82YbaMWuhJq-Qoqjyb2iwjd-de0mIlHYVNumt4jhWVu0ToAg8ZaTaIr8fGIUcKg3Qbpsny5e2eEWoM5TY/s1600/coo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1572" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPnyrjq8uNqsWi_0CeUCD3L_7w7J4YxRcS00hTewTue5Y7LluciLDrQ82YbaMWuhJq-Qoqjyb2iwjd-de0mIlHYVNumt4jhWVu0ToAg8ZaTaIr8fGIUcKg3Qbpsny5e2eEWoM5TY/s400/coo.JPG" width="392" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I took a deep breath in and no longer
felt trapped. Blood pumped through my very alive body and I was thankful to be here
sharing this time with my son. After a mile I asked Colin if he was cold and
wanted to go home to which he vehemently replied “NO!” Smiling, we marveled at
the beauty of the frozen ponds, spotted robins which brought with them the hope
of spring and giggled as I carefully stepped over ice patches. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Walking back into the house I felt so much lighter. God’s
beauty and the reality that I was strong enough to have chosen to seek it
filled me with hope. The joy in the present moment helped carry me the rest of
the day. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I will run again and when I do I will glorify God. I will feel down again and when I do I will remember that He is strong. The cold of darkness feels awful but the warmth of the sun will come again.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
Take hope! You are not alone!</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span>ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-36027215083033593352018-12-05T22:11:00.003-08:002018-12-05T22:11:42.897-08:00You are there<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSeVRCQZ-3moRPdUN0VvP2u3lbkHI8Y_ZR6GMRDOc4jOZUc7DqB11B2NTTbmoFI2Rs0frZ8dl2ArIw-Uj1k3uTZMkEGKvRWyED-TITLu4TQlkqKD5uv5x2KqPORL30Up2AbUZfbjY/s1600/2020_10151070921322260_28561552_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSeVRCQZ-3moRPdUN0VvP2u3lbkHI8Y_ZR6GMRDOc4jOZUc7DqB11B2NTTbmoFI2Rs0frZ8dl2ArIw-Uj1k3uTZMkEGKvRWyED-TITLu4TQlkqKD5uv5x2KqPORL30Up2AbUZfbjY/s200/2020_10151070921322260_28561552_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>It's hard to not let myself think back 6 years ago on this night without some trepidation. The night before my second child was born just hours into the next day. The night that changed everything in my life. I wish I could run to that young woman, laboring in her home, hold her tight and say "you are going to get through what is to come, you are going to make it. Many times you will feel forsaken by God, but He never left your side."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You have searched me, LORD, and you know me.</b></i></div>
<br />
A few months before Nolan was born we made life altering changes. I left my job, became a stay at home mom and moved away from my friends and my life in Connecticut. I felt so alone and foreign in the beautiful fields of Lancaster. I remember crying almost everyday from the exhaustion of being pregnant and feeling like a failure as Mikayla and I tried to get used to spending all day together. I was frantically putting myself into every opportunity I could find to meet friends before the baby came and felt all the more distant when friendships didn't bloom overnight. It was overwhelming. It was stifling.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways. </i></b></div>
<b></b><i></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgroTlxRSwvvofzcAaf63YerEJD1SmNMzJ4TVRfJMy5BBKoVGKxHkucPyZmlwUXS1ZSfD7_dy1NyYf5RKs6kzRlAeUFuLS0F5LWttIU7bd4Ri8BN0HOoaIkY8nGd90Ev8cSt3O5k-0/s1600/new+nolan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="403" data-original-width="604" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgroTlxRSwvvofzcAaf63YerEJD1SmNMzJ4TVRfJMy5BBKoVGKxHkucPyZmlwUXS1ZSfD7_dy1NyYf5RKs6kzRlAeUFuLS0F5LWttIU7bd4Ri8BN0HOoaIkY8nGd90Ev8cSt3O5k-0/s320/new+nolan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The day my sweet baby boy was born I remember gazing out my window at a tractor plowing the field next to the hospital and feeling listless. It seemed so wrong to be feeling that way when I was holding new life and joy in my arms, my heart double the size it was the day before. Those first few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights, adjustment, small victories and a slight heaviness that seemed to have settled itself in the recesses of my chest.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely. </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>too lofty for me to attain. </i></b></div>
<b></b><i><br /></i>I used to get angry that postpartum depression took over after that. I used to feel robbed of my life during those years... I still do at times. The following 2 years, Nolan's birthday was a reminder of how far I hadn't gotten. That I was still depressed. That I still thought my family was better off without me. The lies were still speaking. My trust in God had faltered. A time that was supposed to be filled with joy and celebration had a dark cloud over it. For so long I wanted to yell and shake that young naïve woman..."You are about to go into hell, why did you let yourself get to this point, what are all of the things that you did wrong to deserve this fate, how could you have ever thought life was going to be good!?"<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>If I go up to the heavens; you are there. If I make my bed in the depths, you are there. </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8G5_8XmJFuW5inLaan2Suam4SWbh4pchSVc3u5jU6778DNHDTBbrINfv0ERHtSxVcae_H-_ofXcA4SQEgW630yueTYBHN8EAX3JW5iDT7w8sWADEz36ns8gS5PNNExooTqT-ECws/s1600/IMG_4058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8G5_8XmJFuW5inLaan2Suam4SWbh4pchSVc3u5jU6778DNHDTBbrINfv0ERHtSxVcae_H-_ofXcA4SQEgW630yueTYBHN8EAX3JW5iDT7w8sWADEz36ns8gS5PNNExooTqT-ECws/s200/IMG_4058.JPG" width="180" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3RreyuNfSrgfaQrfDAsSqiDOsDArqxAOTf03zl43QJzlrEYbjRKBlDorAn3KZIRoNyUxKKrUyRlc1RPTm73SYbBGeNXwlXEA9kW58R52dcT9P73mltC78-zHG4Zj4FTpwYAPw2M/s1600/36222401_10155350474812260_5350983068414902272_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>But then a small light shone through. Nolan's third birthday approached. I was anxious that I would tailspin into weeks of darkness. Two weeks before I had miscarried our precious baby and was still grieving the loss. I didn't know what to expect. The day before Nolan's birthday came and I didn't feel the heaviness, hopelessness and despair that my depression liked to lasso me with. Instead I felt light. For the first time since his birth I was able to truly celebrate. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here I am now. And as I was 6 years ago, living in a new State which is widely different from the Lancaster I grew to love. Once again I am without my life and community that was created so beautifully out of the ashes. But unlike the precious young woman of that night, I am here with a renewed spirit. God took me from the nothingness I became from my suffering and helped build me into a stronger, more empathetic and wiser person. I am still broken, I still have my days of mistrust and fear, but I know that He has done a good work in me. And for that I praise Him. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i></i><b></b><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3RreyuNfSrgfaQrfDAsSqiDOsDArqxAOTf03zl43QJzlrEYbjRKBlDorAn3KZIRoNyUxKKrUyRlc1RPTm73SYbBGeNXwlXEA9kW58R52dcT9P73mltC78-zHG4Zj4FTpwYAPw2M/s1600/36222401_10155350474812260_5350983068414902272_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3RreyuNfSrgfaQrfDAsSqiDOsDArqxAOTf03zl43QJzlrEYbjRKBlDorAn3KZIRoNyUxKKrUyRlc1RPTm73SYbBGeNXwlXEA9kW58R52dcT9P73mltC78-zHG4Zj4FTpwYAPw2M/s320/36222401_10155350474812260_5350983068414902272_o.jpg" width="228" /></a><i><b>For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div>
Tomorrow while the kids yell who gets what piece of cake, argue about whose present gets opened first and sing at the top of their lungs... I am going to stop and savor the gift of the day. I am here to live another day. I am here to feel the warmth of Nolan's cheeks as I engulf my sweet boy in kisses. I am here because God saved me and He still has so much left to do in my life. To God be the glory for all the great things He has done!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Psalm 139:1-14</i></b></div>
ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-453160537289150052018-10-13T15:00:00.001-07:002018-10-13T15:00:48.580-07:00Owning ItI was standing in my friend Margaret's kitchen shortly before we moved to Illinois when she remarked, "ElisaBeth you are a runner" to which I replied "um no" to which she replied "um yes" with a look that would not let me go until I begrudgingly replied "ok fine I guess I'm a runner." She looked triumphant.<br />
<br />
I have found the overwhelming theme of my 36th year to be "owning it"... owning my confidence, my beauty, my strength and the truths in my life. I spent so much time rebuilding myself the last 5 years that I haven't stopped to see the amazing progress God has done in my life. Allowing myself to be proud of who I am is a very foreign concept, one which I am slowly learning to embrace. I am so grateful to friends, like Margaret, who often remind me and remain SO patient with my growth.<br />
<br />
A few months ago my therapist asked me to find a "token" of what exemplifies my beauty. I have been mulling it over for weeks and weeks and I could not come up with anything... until today.<br />
<br />
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Running!!<br />
<br />
Not exactly a token, but something I can look at in this season of life as my saving grace, a picture of what beauty and strength is to me and something I have followed through with.<br />
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A year and a half ago I sat down and opened up my journal to a page that asked for a list of dreams that would make this year the "best ever." I hadn't let myself think past tomorrow for 4 years. Getting through each day seemed like a feat in itself and even conversations about the weekend would send me into panic. I was finally at a place where I could think about tomorrow and not get overwhelmed. Think about tomorrow and not feel the immense heaviness of depression that would surely come when I awoke in the morning. It was exciting and freeing. And besides these were dreams... so the pressure was off if they didn't all come true.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZc3h35EFsV5USht8Iz4SXGLQjXd3_pVbsJExyrFhaaXFMpHZeg77hUmH1A-CeQBFxSTiu7afh0_JjiAoZs6soJGHp31RqqeWoOtV5wQ4b8CI2pO49Sgan8YAP4zcyuHpv2oLQ454/s1600/dreams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: left; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1322" data-original-width="1378" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZc3h35EFsV5USht8Iz4SXGLQjXd3_pVbsJExyrFhaaXFMpHZeg77hUmH1A-CeQBFxSTiu7afh0_JjiAoZs6soJGHp31RqqeWoOtV5wQ4b8CI2pO49Sgan8YAP4zcyuHpv2oLQ454/s200/dreams.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my dreams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I wrote the list and one of the dreams was to run consistently for 1 year. I knew how much running helped my depression and mental health in the past (check out my post <a href="http://elisabethanddhrumil.blogspot.com/2014/05/panic-made-me-run.html">Panic Made Me Run</a>) and I wanted be consistent again and this time not stop. This was a way to challenge and help myself at the same time! <br />
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16 months and an estimated 630+ miles later I am still running and will be running my farthest distance race to date in 3 weeks. This last year has been filled with SO many challenges and unknowns and running as been my one constant. Putting on my shoes, listening to my breath and my feet hit the pavement and taking time for myself has been empowering and has given me the best mental health year since 2010.<br />
<br />
In the past, the kind of curve balls life has thrown our family this year would have sent me into panic attacks and weeks of feeling down... instead I am equipped to use the tools I have learned to help me in those dark moments. Running has made it possible to quickly access the tool box.<br />
<br />
The girl who wasn't sure she would be able to live another day battling her depression... made it. The girl whose saw herself as nothing... sees her worth. The girl who felt ugly inside and out... now catches glimpses of her beauty. The girl who didn't know if she believed in God anymore... understands His role in her life so much more then ever before. The girl who never thought she would run... RUNS!ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-19401448292966643692018-08-10T20:34:00.001-07:002018-08-10T20:34:07.180-07:00Because of You<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It's hard to believe that you, dear one, would have been 2
years old a few weeks ago. We would have had such a fun party. Your sister and
brother would have doted on you, your daddy would have made sure the theme of
the party was the one word you were saying the most and I would have drunk in
the moments watching you turn from baby to kid, but still be thankful for the
baby cheeks that would have stayed. Dear baby I miss you! I want you! I will
always love you! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just tonight I was telling daddy how much joy your brother,
Colin, brings to us. He is like the period to our sentences. The giggle after
the hard day. Even when his lower lip sticks out and starts to quiver after I
ask him to “please be gentle” we are still so in love with this little boy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He wouldn’t have been, if you were not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is SUCH a hard concept to comprehend when I think of you, baby, when I want you to know that I MISS you. I love you SO much and I
can’t wait to see you and yet I am so thankful for your brother. I would have
never known him if it weren’t for you. I never got to stuff my face into your neck
and smell your sweet sweet smell, but because of you, I get to snuggle Colin
whenever I want. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you for living with me those short weeks. Thank you
for helping me hope that I could have another baby, that I was strong enough to combat my depression.
Thank you for the joy that you brought me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With you I was full, without you I have a piece missing and
yet I am newly formed into a woman with more empathy, compassion, and dare I
say, more love to give my children here on earth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you baby.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-17831395206459988632017-11-21T16:53:00.001-08:002017-11-21T16:53:07.295-08:00Dear Baby<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I recount the last 24 hours of the moments you were
living inside of me I think of the joy that had my heart overflowing. The excitement
of your gift of life, the secret that only a few knew of, the counting ahead of
the months to come and when I would finally get to meet you, get to hold you. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The night before you were lost to me forever I spent playing
in an orchestra concert. I was proud to be playing my violin, glowing from the
inside out, feeling strong as a woman who could create life and create art at
the same time. Chatting with fellow musicians about the day, all the while beaming
from within and wanting to shout from the rooftops that I carried not only my
own soul, but yours as well.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Going to sleep that night I spoke to your daddy and we
talked through names that we wanted to name you. I know you were still so
small, so tiny, but your presence emanated from my every thought. You were
there with us… or at least I thought you were. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next morning, we went to church and as I sang to God I
thought with expectation of the coming weeks when you could begin to hear me,
begin to know me. We came home and had pizza for lunch and before eating I
noticed one small spot of blood… the thought that you may no longer be here
crossed my mind, however I didn’t let it take over. I didn’t think that your
precious life could be taken from me so suddenly. I didn’t think that God would
allow for your spirit to soar ahead without me. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I drove the hour to get to my second orchestra concert of
the weekend I tried to let peace overtake me. Tried to reason that all would be
ok. I reached the auditorium, set my violin down and headed towards the
bathroom. And that’s when I knew you were gone. Though I still held onto a
small hope.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Rushing back into the auditorium white as a ghost I was
approached by some fellow violinists. One grabbed me in her arms, held me fiercely
tight like a mama bear to her cub and prayed to Jesus for you. Prayed to Jesus
for me. I grabbed my violin and ran back to my car and made the trek home. My
sweet baby, it was a long ride… not knowing if you were still there with me. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next morning was hazy. At the doctor’s office… staring
at the women and their swollen bellies, the women and their newborn babies, I
waited. And then I was told that you were gone. As I lay on the chair and
stared at the screen that was supposed to show your life, all I saw was
emptiness. And I felt empty. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had to get blood taken three more times after that trip to
the doctor’s office. Watch the numbers in my blood that shouted of your existence
fade away. Diminish. It was like you were never even here… </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But. You were. </span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT75KroMPqcFZxqwUJJGi-BVWPqdQqZgUFV23lo2F8LFnstvbhz_HIXZ8TTIU0n9Av6oTIA5Wau4R_UlRrDyt2Mll28aTZNcqU_v-PTMEGytkb0LWxdE3zoDEivyasUYWHX4kqWK4/s1600/IMG_6138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT75KroMPqcFZxqwUJJGi-BVWPqdQqZgUFV23lo2F8LFnstvbhz_HIXZ8TTIU0n9Av6oTIA5Wau4R_UlRrDyt2Mll28aTZNcqU_v-PTMEGytkb0LWxdE3zoDEivyasUYWHX4kqWK4/s320/IMG_6138.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Missing you and loving your brother so much</span></td></tr>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was that same chair that I laid on and the same screen that
I stared at 3 short months later when I saw your brother wriggling around.
Where I heard his sweet, strong heartbeat. Where I was able to accept that he
was alive in that moment. But you were on my mind. I would never get to see you
in such a way. I would never get to hear your heartbeat. I loved your brother,
baby, but I missed you so so much. I didn’t want you to think we had forgotten
you. That we had just decided to replace you with another. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can’t wait to meet you. I can’t wait to see your smile and
bury my head in your hair. I can’t wait to tell you how much I have always
loved you. You will never be forgotten. Your very being filled me with
unspeakable joy. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You will never know what pain is, or suffering. You will
never be scared or hurt. All you will know is the unbridled love and peace of
our Savior. One day I will share this with you. Until then… you will always
have a piece of my heart. </span></div>
ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-60908486958957732222017-06-16T07:28:00.001-07:002017-06-16T07:28:05.442-07:00SummerIt's the summer. That means 3 kids, all day, all the time. A new thing for us. I'd love to write more, <br />
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but it's a miracle I have a moment to stop at all today amidst packing for our first vacation as a family of 5. <br />
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I'll just say this... these past few weeks have made me feel like I have never worked harder in my life. But in reality I have... I worked to save my life through my depression and that work started almost 4 years ago to the day. I'm not reminding myself of this to diminish the feelings I'm having now, but to bring empowerment that I am stronger then I have ever been. Praises to God for all He has given me and gotten me through!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Going going all day long.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
No time to sing my own song.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Little hands and little feet.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Guiding, teaching, keeping sweet.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Moments of pure joy and fear.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Moments of how did I get here.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Will I raise them up to love?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Will I raise them to know the one above?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Overwhelmed and always tired.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fact is I'll never be fired.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hearts so pure, so open, so true.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Little lips saying "I love you."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is a season, a blip in time.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Slowly speeding... but it is mine. </div>
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<br />ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-20103119052355456612017-04-15T12:13:00.000-07:002017-04-15T12:13:00.424-07:00Grace to Pull the Rip CordLately I've been feeling a lot of this...<br />
<br />
50,000 things I could do.<br />
<br />
10,000 things I should do.<br />
<br />
10 things I am able to do.<br />
<br />
I spend most of my time in freefall trying to manage three little ones. Commitments have fallen by the wayside, things I once found pertinent to maintain a sense of self have been shelved and a new way of managing the chaos is... well... it's still developing. When I find myself about to fall into the abyss, never to be seen from again, I somehow (ok truly by the grace of God) am able to grab the rip cord, give it a big tug, and once again fly upwards, clear and free, into the chaos. <br />
<br />
As the chance of being able to fulfill commitments, housework, growing my marriage, friendships, taking a shower, all pass by me at an alarming rate, I have let discouragement creep in. Misery loves company doesn't it? And that tiny little gnat of self doubt nipping at my ear turns into a giant mosquito biting me at every turn and blindly leading me into comparing myself to others.<br />
<br />
Ah comparing.<br />
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It's like a curse word whispered underneath the breath of all young moms. Her baby is a week old and she is ALREADY walking two miles?! She has 4 kids and she looks like THAT?! She homeschools all 7 of her children and can still provide a home cooked meal to those in need?!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwS2m9Q2NPzjWKW9EBLgygmzVg8xLX-WT9BOp8pAfPDEdfNY42-uArPsyoaXO6A56S8Yyt64GpF8IfpgfSwFIeaJqMe9Fek6lNGh5SAgviAh6HjFpqhyphenhyphen3evLTOT0R3PXPsH9h5lpg/s1600/IMG_5261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Come on... you know you've done it. <br />
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It's something we all do and have all done since we understood people were different then us. Some are more prone to compare, to lay judgement, others are able to be truly glad for the strengths they see in their peers and applaud them for their achievements.... but no one is perfect.<br />
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Typically I am the latter, often seeing what others can do as good for them and then moving on. However, lost in the chaos that is now my life, I've found it easier to look at so and so and see if they "seem" to have it all together then so should I.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago I was feeling discouraged about being unable to fully support Dhrumil in a struggle he was facing. Unknowingly I started comparing myself to him and how he had been able to walk by myside during three years of grueling postpartum depression with the right words to say, the right things to do and being one of the most important supports in my recovery. It took a dear wise friend to tell me to stop comparing myself to him. She reminded me that he has his own strengths and I have mine. He may be able to support me in ways that I can't support him, however that does not mean I don't have my own strengths and ways to support him.<br />
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Again and again I have heard the same message from different friends over the past few weeks and through them God has been telling me...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwS2m9Q2NPzjWKW9EBLgygmzVg8xLX-WT9BOp8pAfPDEdfNY42-uArPsyoaXO6A56S8Yyt64GpF8IfpgfSwFIeaJqMe9Fek6lNGh5SAgviAh6HjFpqhyphenhyphen3evLTOT0R3PXPsH9h5lpg/s1600/IMG_5261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><b>You have your strengths, they have theirs. They don't look the same, they are not the same, but that doesn't mean your strengths or their strengths are any better. If you are unable to do what they do, that is ok! Stop comparing! I have created you as a unique, beautiful individual who can do and will do many amazing things... and they are what I have created you to do. You are enough.</b><br />
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Last night I was talking to a fellow mom of three about my frustration with still not being able to figure out how to manage my life and the lives of three little ones. She laughed, threw her hands up in the air and told me that having three is chaos and you just have to embrace it. As she shared some of her experiences a weight was lifted off of me as I heard my own struggles in hers. Why do we not share are struggles more openly? Think of how supported we would feel. She may approach her struggles differently, but that doesn't mean her life is still not just as chaotic as mine.<br />
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And so... here I am. At the end of my post. <br />
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Perhaps what I wrote will help others embrace what they can do and stop comparing to others what they can not do. I'm going to challenge myself this week to fully embrace the 10 things (or at least three tiny people things) I am able to accomplish and smile and cheer for my peers who are accomplishing the other 9,990... <br />
<br />
OR are they really? <br />
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Who cares!! Up I float once again out of the abyss for my God has got me. <br />
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<br />ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-11283466383697143792017-03-20T18:44:00.000-07:002017-03-20T18:44:07.722-07:0035This is the first year I feel old. <br />
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I know for those of you who are older you're probably rolling your eyes... I'm sure I will roll my eyes when I reread this post in years to come. <br />
<br />
However, today I feel old.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSQ1Nqa1o5F7nrrfNn52E_3P24WrlATDITMU1xihXRxwtpb89hujh7mekbm5jP6tJMbBjLKIqv-wgNJOCJUD-7Od4UQrWtbnopUpTtYE0Lc3zmt9MRIrzqJtK9iREGbzUAGfNqng/s1600/chic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSQ1Nqa1o5F7nrrfNn52E_3P24WrlATDITMU1xihXRxwtpb89hujh7mekbm5jP6tJMbBjLKIqv-wgNJOCJUD-7Od4UQrWtbnopUpTtYE0Lc3zmt9MRIrzqJtK9iREGbzUAGfNqng/s200/chic.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="198" /></a>Yesterday we were eating lunch at church and a group of younger people sat down and joined us. As I was attempting to dart sweet potatoes being spit at me by Colin, I smiled, said hello and asked if they were in high school. Turns out they were in their last years of College... and two of them were engaged. I then proceeded to recount our engagement story where we didn't have a camera to capture the moment and had to run to CVS, grab a disposable and return to the recreate the gorgeous scene (which I might add did not work very well.) One of the newly engaged remarked "well it's easier nowadays to capture moments." "Yeah," I replied "we didn't have cameras on our phones back then." Blank stares. I felt old. <br />
<br />
This weekend we went out to celebrate my birthday. Dhrumil looked dashing in his sports coat, I <br />
wore red lipstick. I felt grown up, fun and trendy. After a lovely dinner followed by a drink at a jazz club, we decided to go home... at 10pm. I felt old.<br />
<br />
On a trip with just one child, Colin, people assumed he was our first. When I corrected them, told them he was our third and that our oldest was 7. I felt old. <br />
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Last week was our 10 year wedding anniversary. 10 years?! How could 10 years have passed already!? I looked at my husband who has grown stronger, more handsome and even more brilliant with age. A man who constantly knows what I'm thinking before I do. I felt old. <br />
<br />
With age comes wisdom. Right? My 34th year was one of redemption. I worked through grieving the baby that we lost. Colin was born, making my heart bigger, stronger and more resilient. I've spent the six months of Colin's life postpartum depression free. I have been stretched in new and crazy ways by juggling 3 kids, Dhrumil's new jobs and no sleep. I am far from super woman, however I know my limitations and am aware enough when to ask for help and when too much is too much. My personal growth has taken off and instead of continuing to rebuild myself as I have been doing for 4 years, I am now adding new windows and doors and even additions! I feel whole. I feel complete. I am more sure of myself, more confident, more ME! And it feels good... I am ever changing, ever evolving and yet I'm ok with that because I finally know I have a good base to add too. <br />
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So come on 35... you may feel old, but I bet with age comes comfort, strength and endurance to continue on.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A baby 7 years after the first and so much fun!</td></tr>
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<br />ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-75368932178747208852016-12-30T09:41:00.000-08:002016-12-30T09:41:35.853-08:00It's Different With ThreeI won't lie... when we were thinking about having three kids I googled "life with three kids" and "three kids is it hard?" and other absurd combinations I could think of. My research didn't glean much. And how could it? One kid for one family compared to five kids for another could be comparable in degrees of difficulty based on personalities and whatnot. <br />
<br /><br />
While pregnant I spoke with friends of three kids and with smiles that almost seemed to conceal something they didn't want to say, they replied "oh yeah it's good." I knew they HAD to be hiding something, but since my current state assumed three kids were inevitable they decided not to scare me right then and there. <br />
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We have had three kids in our family for three and a half months... here are a few things I've noticed for myself...<br />
<br /><br />
- IT IS A CIRCUS AND THERE ARE SO MANY PEOPLE AROUND ALL THE TIME! And being an introvert that has been an adjustment. ;-)<br />
<br /><br />
- 60... that's the number of little nails that continue to grow. For some reason adding 20 nails to the mix has thrown me off my game and I find that someone ALWAYS has nails in need of upkeep. Why does this matter you ask? I'm not really sure... I think it's because I'm a violinist and nice clean extremely short nails are how I've rolled most of my life. And thus if I see a nail trying to get overzealous with dirt or length I take a deep breath... and if possible... run for the closest nail clipper.<br />
<br /><br />
- Bathing... When Mikayla was a baby I would give her two baths a day because she loved them. Nolan once a day and Colin? He's lucky if he gets a few a week. And then there are the older two and constantly trying to remember when they last bathed... I've taken to the "smell" test... if their hair smells funky in they go! <br />
<br /><br />
- Clothes... It has been known that Colin will still be in his pjs at the end of the day. And yes... I've taken him out of the house in his pjs. I would have gasped at babies in pjs back in the day... didn't their mother's want to change them? Didn't they know that an infant realizes routine and if not properly dressed for the day and then dressed for the night he will lead a coup against sleeping for months and months? Not to mention all of the adorable outfits... Ah the brain of the first time mom.<br />
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- Priorities... my life currently revolves around priorities. Eat breakfast or wash the dishes? Take a shower or make it to school on time? Get dressed or do a puzzle with Nolan? <br />
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- Time... is it possible that it goes even faster then before in moments and painfully slower in others?<br />
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- Love... It is amazing how love grows and multiplies and there is always enough to go around.<br />
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ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-58398299801698145272016-11-19T17:31:00.002-08:002016-11-19T17:52:56.487-08:00How am I?How am I?<br />
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Many know I fought long and hard against postpartum depression after the birth of my second son almost four years ago. Because of all I faced I found a new purpose in life... to become an advocate for mental health, to break the silence of an illness that is as real as any physical ailment, to be a listening ear for women who feel shame in depression, to help others support their loved ones in their times of need and to find a new depth to myself that only God could have orchestrated.<br />
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How am I?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixovLZ_GSFQJ97lFrM_Vq1jLHD8L8v7oDn6to8h60w0LnlmL4_rJnuVRXf4Spm_-r5yTgYwvApxu8_T6jsGDiDVLLw4UY7pDQiimci35zesXCrUSFwEmyG44l2zN7r-ID46xaSaO8/s1600/IMG_4819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixovLZ_GSFQJ97lFrM_Vq1jLHD8L8v7oDn6to8h60w0LnlmL4_rJnuVRXf4Spm_-r5yTgYwvApxu8_T6jsGDiDVLLw4UY7pDQiimci35zesXCrUSFwEmyG44l2zN7r-ID46xaSaO8/s400/IMG_4819.jpg" width="266" /></a>Leading up to the birth of my third child I had many moments of fear. I was told I had a 50% chance of facing postpartum depression again. My odds increased after my miscarriage, however I had faced the truth - depression and anxiety may be a part of who I am now and I chose to accept it.<br />
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How am I?<br />
<br />
On the day my son was born my thoughts lingered on the baby who I miscarried a little more then a year before. I couldn't see the face of my new gorgeous boy without thinking about the other baby who I never met... and yet... My heart was filled with joy and thanksgiving as I held my baby. I was fully able to be in the moment as stared at my miracle. The love and peace I felt with my new baby filled me with courage.<br />
<br />
How am I?<br />
<br />
Three kids is beyond overwhelming. Three kids has dropped me into the bucket of chaos where I feel at times there is NO escape. Three kids makes me feel outnumbered in a whole new way. But the sun still shines. The moments of pure joy make it possible to face the next moment of intensity. The dark cloud of depression is not nearly as intense. The red insanity of anxiety is dulled. The tools I spent months honing to face my darkness have become second nature. My heart praises God in the good times and the bad. It is well with my soul.<br />
<br />
How am I?<br />
<br />
God has put many in my life who uphold me in prayer. Many in my life who remind me of the truth of who I am. Who help me banish the lies that sometimes creep into my head. Those who I can go to without shame or fear. Those who accept me for who I am, flaws and all, crap and all, imperfections and all. I could not do life without these people.<br />
<br />
How am I?<br />
<br />
There are setbacks. Most days I don't have to fight anymore between my positive and negative mind, but then there are still the days that I do. Those days are hard. But then I look to God, I look to my people, I look to myself and who I have become and then I stand up, dust myself off, and keep moving forward.<br />
<br />
How am I?<br />
<br />
I am here. I am staying here. <br />
I am ok.ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-18084976994677393862016-08-24T14:08:00.001-07:002016-08-24T16:28:20.962-07:00Becoming a Mother-Person<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">It's crazy to think a woman can grow a person for 9+ months, that this person will make his/her way out of you in 12+ hours and then BOOM you are considered a mother. All of the sudden you have been inducted into the most prestigious club there is on earth with one ear splitting cry of a tiny needy person... when just the day before you were fully wrapped up in yourself and who you had been becoming for the past 25+ years. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Sure books were read, newborn prep classes taken and advice was given, but there really is no amount of preparation that can truly equip you for the life altering change you go through as a person. Learning to take care of a tiny person is one thing... learning to understand the new you is a whole other. Can this change happen so rapidly? So quickly? So overnight? I believe we are meant to believe it does, however I have learned for me that it has taken time.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Becoming a mother-person is a process... a process that is constantly evolving. The wisdom that I have ascertained over these past six years have been invaluable. Looking forward to the upcoming birth of my third child has filled me with a certain excitement that I finally understand what being a mother means to me. I am not talking about being an expert in newborn care 101, preschool tantrums or navigating the total crazy random things your 6 year old does... heck no... I will constantly be surprised by these things, unknowing how to handle them and also floundering on a daily basis. Rather, I am talking about who I am!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I unknowingly fought the idea of being a mother-person for many years. My internal argument... I was still me wasn’t I? I wasn’t a 100% selfless being who went with every whim of her children and moved heaven and earth just for them. I had to reserve some identity for myself... I had to be ME!! But I didn’t know who me was and instead of one identity, I had taken on many AND I had made them unattainable. I strove to be a fully unique, dedicated, driven, dare I say perfect and separate person as an employee, wife, friend, musician, thinker, follower of God, woman, daughter, sister, mother.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The thing was I had the idea of who a mother was supposed to be all wrong. I felt I was lowering myself to think of my role as a mother to be my calling at present. I rejected that God had called me to this very precise position in order to shape and mold me into a new identity. One He had predestined for me, one He knew would make me a whole rounded person. Being a mother doesn’t mean being selfless and living for your children 100% of the time. To me, it is an intricate weaving of past, present and future self into someone who is fully unique, imperfect, learning and growing. I had been battling that true identity for 4 years and it was getting exhausting. Exhausting to not be able to fully measure up to who I thought I was supposed to be and exhausting to not be able to accept my true identity.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFBcj6frEpOZzBU_rNIoZzV1VV6cVdHCA9lBGmkJ5YA-LmiBzg0JvSsmLlFhS6e7liYfV1L-2IayapqE4Iw_W0gFC_g5rIhMee-N9JJmq5YhFnZDLiqzLBkDKDZFGW-bZ0krgnFg/s1600/embrace.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFBcj6frEpOZzBU_rNIoZzV1VV6cVdHCA9lBGmkJ5YA-LmiBzg0JvSsmLlFhS6e7liYfV1L-2IayapqE4Iw_W0gFC_g5rIhMee-N9JJmq5YhFnZDLiqzLBkDKDZFGW-bZ0krgnFg/s400/embrace.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Embrace</td></tr>
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Something finally clicked about a year ago. Maybe it was my depression and the process of having to put myself back together again from the nothingness I had become. Maybe it was the amount of time I spent being a mother. Maybe it was the hundreds of hours of therapy I had done learning to be more self aware, learning to love my imperfect self. Maybe it was because I was finally letting myself let God lead. Maybe it was all of the above... but I have now fully embraced being a mom, being content and also being me... they are all the same thing! It’s hard to describe but as I birth this baby I will not be re-birthing myself this time. I am no longer a reflection of who I want to be... I am now who God means for me to be right now and that is empowering, encouraging and exciting! I am whole. </span></div>
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ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-6686772289407786952016-08-24T14:08:00.000-07:002016-08-24T14:16:43.285-07:00The Real Belly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I pray my son and daughter can grow up loving their imperfections and embracing every mark on their bodies. As I stare in the mirror at my ever growing belly, and my war-torn stretch marks that continue to multiply, I have tried to accept that NOW is the time for my body to go through yet another change... and I will fully embrace that change! I know that after I give birth I will have months of waiting until my belly goes down... that's just how my body is... and I will try to embrace that as well! We are all different and unique and comparing just drops us in the crapper. So here's to the next 9 months and seeing what my body can do.</div>
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"Mama why does your belly have those marks?"</div>
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"Because I have had the blessing of growing three people inside of me and it stretched me out a bit. Some ladies get marks on them and some do not"</div>
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"Does it hurt?"</div>
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"No it's just uncomfortable"</div>
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"Is this baby I'm feeling!?"</div>
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"Yes it is"</div>
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"Can baby chestnut hear me? LALALALALALALA"</div>
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"Um yes he/she can"</div>
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"Did you feel that!?"</div>
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"Yes!"</div>
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"I love this baby!"</div>
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"And I love you!!!"</div>
ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-55438519894582193662016-08-09T12:47:00.001-07:002016-08-09T12:47:37.310-07:00An Ode to the End<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bXRcQszyIbvZLsSXHKMUxzhj0lkHds1U9jlFFYFrrQgNBhROCpG78wBGV-rFteLmV0sLl5yCkwCOKL3FZiMTYfEGaUdmigh_XTIY88Y4L49gQibkgfSUe_jm0T5AEeZdwbLhVzM/s1600/IMG_3902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bXRcQszyIbvZLsSXHKMUxzhj0lkHds1U9jlFFYFrrQgNBhROCpG78wBGV-rFteLmV0sLl5yCkwCOKL3FZiMTYfEGaUdmigh_XTIY88Y4L49gQibkgfSUe_jm0T5AEeZdwbLhVzM/s320/IMG_3902.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How my daughter views my massive baby bump</td></tr>
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You'd think I'd be all sentimental at this point in my pregnancy... especially since the plan is for this to be the last baby. The last experience of the miracle of life growing inside of me. I had thought these last 6 (maybe less!?!?!) weeks would be of me cherishing my growing belly, my glowing self and the silence before the screaming.<br />
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But alas... I have never been pregnant in the DEAD of summer, I have never been pregnant with a THIRD baby and goodness I had completely forgotten how UNCOMFORTABLE this whole thing is... especially this time around. And so to remember this time in a realness you can only expect from me...<br />
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My legs fall asleep while I sit down to pee</div>
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My belly is itchy as itchy can be</div>
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When I sleep the baby thinks it's time to play</div>
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And if I don't take a nap I'll be a grump all day</div>
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Chasing after kids when you're as large as a house</div>
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Makes you look like a mad elephant instead of a mouse</div>
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My belly has become a dangerous thing</div>
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Because of the children who fall with one swing</div>
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Chores such as laundry and cooking and cleaning</div>
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Are done at the speed of a snail who is weaving</div>
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But at least I can laugh and so can the kids</div>
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And so can the stranger who's all up in my biz</div>
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So body you're amazing as you grow this little person</div>
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But hey I think baby building has become quite an aversion</div>
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ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-70741441499625231272016-07-12T08:51:00.001-07:002016-07-12T08:51:25.218-07:00A Mother's Blessing - Celebrating Baby Chestnut!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I first got the idea to have a Mother's Blessing while re-reading my favorite birth book... <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Birthing-Within-Extra-Ordinary-Childbirth-Preparation/dp/0965987302/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1468333791&sr=1-1&keywords=birthing+from+within">Birthing From Within</a>. </i>With each pregnancy I have found re-reading my library of birth books to be very helpful in preparing for a natural birth. I typically read them until about a month before the due date and then I drop it all and try to quiet my mind until the baby arrives. This time around will probably be the most challenging to quiet my mind with two little cuties taking up most of my brain space. ;-)<br />
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Having walked through so many turbulent times with my depression and miscarriage I wanted to celebrate this pregnancy in a personal and meaningful way. The premise of a blessing is to nurture the mother-to-be and celebrate motherhood. This focus and the empowerment behind it sounded so encouraging for my next step in life. I also wanted to include my dear friends and family in a way that they would also feel blessed and loved as mothers and someday mothers.<br />
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I love seeing an idea evolve and flourish. This is how my blessing came to be... creating makes me happy and is healing. I bought candles for each woman and added a chestnut tree charm. After each person introduced herself we lit the candle to add her presence to our gathering. After the blessing each woman took her candle home and will light it when I'm in labor as a reminder to pray for me and so I can be comforted knowing I am supported. I also had each woman bring a verse or poem or word of wisdom which she then wrote down on a piece of fabric. My friend will create a flag which I can look on during birth and beyond and remember how loved I am by God and those around me. I especially loved the part where all shared what they had written. It was not only incredibly encouraging to me, but to all who were present.</div>
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Mikayla's involvement also evolved into something very special. From the pedicures with mama before the blessing, to the matching dresses and flower crowns (which were really fun to make!) to the specialness of being the only kid there to the reading of her special message to the baby... this big sister was celebrated! She did amazingly well throughout, and though the occasional sigh would escape her lips (she is 6 after all) I think she felt treasured and loved.</div>
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Being outside has always been a saving grace for me throughout my life. Climbing trees and reading in them when I was young, laying under a tree for hours at a time with Dhrumil before kids, walking to catch my breath after a tough day or running through the corn fields... God's beauty is all encompassing on the soul. I knew my sister's mother in law as an avid gardener and her backyard is always beautiful in the summer. She graciously allowed the use of her beautiful space and also her collection of serving-wear. Each element added just the right touch. I also had lovely women help with food and decor as well as setting up and cleaning up and taking pictures (thanks Margaret for these). I couldn't have done it without them!</div>
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And then of course the most important part of the Blessing... the women who have been there for me and who have been such an encouragement in my life. I treasure each of those who were there and my many other friends and family who were unable to make it... God has put each of you in my life for a special reason. I'm ready for this new step in my God-ordained "job" as a mama of three!</div>
ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-62189885549786877892016-06-16T14:01:00.001-07:002016-06-16T14:01:26.257-07:00Acceptance of Imperfection... againThe high pitched sobs were loud, hot tears poured out over a red face distorted by a mixture of feelings and the body stance was that of defiance. I was witnessing my son trying to come to terms with his emotions, but not yet equipped with the tools to do so... thus a tantrum had ensued. Nolan was upset that his sister set up morning snack and unbeknownst to me, had wanted to do so himself. As I tried to help him over the hump of unbridled emotions into one of acceptance, I was struck with sympathy for his situation. On many occasions acceptance of my circumstances have made me want to do exactly what Nolan was doing and throw myself into a tantrum. But... I'm an adult...<br />
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Pregnancy amnesia is real! Now almost into my third trimester and I had forgotten the random aches and pains, exhaustion, moods, hunger, aversions, clumsiness, human incubator, vessel of life, breathlessness and sleeplessness that comes with this joyous time. And did I mention it takes me five times as long to complete any task? (Granted I now have two kids)<br />
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Until a few weeks ago I hadn't realized how much pressure I was putting on myself to have a <br />
"perfect" pregnancy. My first trimester was wrought with morning sickness, but with every nauseous feeling I praised God because that meant my baby was still growing. In my second trimester, when I was finally able to believe the baby was going to live, I willed the joy to continue being real because darkness wasn't allowed! And then I hit a few days of feeling down and a week of not being able to sleep and everything was thrown out of whack disrupting the perfection I had unknowingly been trying to achieve.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accepting I'm an achy imperfect preggo!</td></tr>
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I feel like pregnancy, just like postpartum, comes with a "you should be" stamp. If you are not happy and glowing there is something wrong with you. If you are unable to continue to "do it all" you need to sign up for more yoga classes. If you can't attend to everyone's needs then how in the world are you going to take care of another life!?<br />
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And then self awareness caught up... I was doing this to myself again. I wasn't accepting my present circumstances, I wasn't accepting that I am a human with flaws. I wasn't allowing myself to remember the difficulties of creating a HUMAN BEING! I was again throwing up the bar so high that I would NEVER reach it, no matter how thankful I felt I should be. This carrying a life thing... this thing is hard. And that's OK! I had to accept that these last few months are going to be hard... and that's OK! Three mile walks filled with braxton hicks? Ok just walk around the block... very slowly. Making dinner filled with braxton hicks? Ok just sit down and leave dinner and give the kids a sandwich. Kids going insane and I'm unable to keep up with them? Fine just let them wreck the house. Fear of not being able to do it all with three instead of two? UM DUH you will never be able to do it all...<br />
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And so I head into my last trimester an imperfect, tired and achy Mama, but one who is SO excited to take one step at a time and fully embrace the joy that comes in the moments. How exciting to be growing and learning one little kick at a time.ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-78303407955014856512016-03-29T15:41:00.001-07:002016-04-24T20:16:11.475-07:00The RainbowBeing pregnant after a miscarriage has been a completely different experience for me. I approached my first two pregnancies with a sort of naive sense of wonder. Unbridled joy and entitlement were my friends and I went about life without even pausing to let my mind go "there".<br />
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My third pregnancy was different... it had been almost three years since I had been pregnant and I felt anxious. I had seen precious friends lose their babies and I knew much more of life's suffering. I had been joyful for those few weeks and yet I had moments where I felt that my sweet baby would not live here on earth with me. I had to continuously remind myself that I was not in control! And when that ever so small, but ever so precious life left me... a small part of me left as well. I never realized how someone so small could so deeply effect me.<br />
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Today was my third prenatal visit, but I was still extremely nervous. I have been having trouble accepting that everything is going to be ok this time... that the baby is in fact going to make it and at times... that he/she is still alive. Hope has seemed like something I wasn't allowed to have... I was safer without it.<br />
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It felt like time stood still while I waited for the midwife to place the doppler on my belly. I half expected not to hear anything... and then in what felt like an eternity, but was only a moment, the sweet sound of my baby's heartbeat drumming happily away was heard. I could tell the midwife sensed the relief that flooded over me in that moment. As he took my hand to help me sit up he spoke with sincerity "You have been forever changed by your loss... not only do you have the realization that a baby can be easily lost, but that you yourself can experience it." And in that moment I was able to again accept that my feelings of fear were ok. And then move on...<br />
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A few weeks ago as I sat staring at my growing belly I was struck with fear and frustration. I was missing someone I had never met... how could I possibly start to love another? How could I even begin to allow myself to remember that God was good after my other baby was taken away? And then a sure small voice said...<br />
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<b>I am with you, your baby is in my hands</b></div>
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<i>But God my other baby was in your hands and he/she will never be with me on earth</i></div>
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<b>Yes but that baby was never meant for this earth and instead is with me now and will never have to face fear, disease or pain. It is ok to hope. I know your heart.</b></div>
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<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/bd/48/64/bd4864c32d9d85ef683b2a8bd34dc421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/bd/48/64/bd4864c32d9d85ef683b2a8bd34dc421.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a>Peace washed over me... I was reminded how even when I was so so angry at God for my depression</div>
and feeling completely abandoned... that he was there with me through it all. That I am now a person who I NEVER thought I would be. Confident in Christ who made me! There is no shame in hoping, in believing that this baby is going to be ok... that I will be ok.<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span><br />
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<span class="s1"><i>Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. <b>2 </b>Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. <b>3 </b>Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, <b>4 </b>and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, <b>5 and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.</b> - </i>Romans 5: 1-5</span></div>
ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-35806499500981801052015-12-15T11:52:00.003-08:002015-12-15T11:54:42.197-08:00ThreeDo you remember the game MASH? My girlfriends and I would giggle as we wrote down different outcomes for our life. A magical number that was chosen from a swirl on a page would determine the answer chosen. Who was our husband going to be? Where would we live? What job would we have? How many kids would we have? You get the idea. I always remember cheering when I was, according to the game, "destined" to have three kids. Three kids... for some reason was "the" number.<br />
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And then life happened. The real thing... not the life that I so giddily dreamed of on paper when I was ten years old. Life that was oh so sweet and magical but also so very dark and full of pain. Through its twists and turns I was given the precious gifts of Mikayla and Nolan. No complications in conceiving, carrying or delivering. I was truly blessed. However, I still felt like our family wasn't complete. Even in the midst of some of my darker days with PPD I had a small longing in my heart to add yet another to our family.</div>
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My postpartum depression lingered on and on... our world was turned upside down by it. Thoughts of another child were put on the back burner. In some respect I grieved the possibility of never having another baby. I had many conversations with God about why I had to be inflicted with such an illness and why I couldn't just move ahead with MY plan. But I waited... patient and listening. Grasping to all of the moments of joy. Soaking in all of the time spent with my children. </div>
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Almost three years since Nolan was born passed. I was a new person strengthened by my struggles, moving ahead with the tools I had been given and excited about where I was going. I had accepted that depression and anxiety may be an illness I would struggle with on and off for the rest of my life and was at peace with it. I knew that if I had tough times in the future I would be prepared. Naturally the discussion about another baby came up. Different doctor appointments were made to discuss the potential of PPD symptoms returning, hope was made new, safety nets were put into place.</div>
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Three weeks ago we lost our precious baby. I was six weeks pregnant and yet the life inside of me <br />
was already attached to my heart. Everyone's experience is different... my experience physically wasn't so terrible, but emotionally, it was heart wrenching. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg97D6m6ymceTtOXfQUoo9tvGuYP8ZvelPQqUTJwdiE1GOVvkvZOCOFQFjRNP0arDrJpsvgcmipa38RbIgwJtmSdUllYJJZJ5JQ6-tdIBALVcsY1qXxxuLDBQvtifpKAr4xFdZ9jAM/s1600/snowflake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg97D6m6ymceTtOXfQUoo9tvGuYP8ZvelPQqUTJwdiE1GOVvkvZOCOFQFjRNP0arDrJpsvgcmipa38RbIgwJtmSdUllYJJZJ5JQ6-tdIBALVcsY1qXxxuLDBQvtifpKAr4xFdZ9jAM/s1600/snowflake.jpg" /></a>Miscarriage is so hard to process for me. There was a life... and then there wasn't. There was hope, joy, excitement, planning... and then there wasn't. For so long I haven't allowed myself to think ahead, I have focused on the present and for a brief moment I took a trip into the future, but that too was snuffed out. It's as if my baby were a snowflake that was sent down from the beauty of the sky and as soon as I caught it, it melted in my hands. Beautiful, perfect, one of a kind. </div>
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God is with me always and I feel His presence through another difficult time in my life. Considering the valleys I have visited, I am doing amazing. I am again living in the present, taking each day as it comes. I am missing the person I will never get to know, never get to hold in my arms, never get to kiss... but I know with time the days will grow easier.</div>
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And so life moves ahead... and I with it... bringing along another perspective that will mold me and make me stronger. </div>
ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-22743939794337718042015-12-05T19:57:00.000-08:002015-12-05T19:57:50.913-08:00Victory<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What do I see in this picture? </div>
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Hope</div>
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Love</div>
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Joy</div>
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Victory</div>
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For the first time since my son's birth I was able to celebrate his birthday feeling free from the chains of depression and anxiety. This moment, this day, has been monumental to me. Was it perfect? Of course not!! BUT I did not feel the weight that has followed me for the past three years. Today I felt free! Today was a true gift.</div>
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I feel more alive then ever before. I have suffered, but I have come through it. I will continue to come through it. I have seen the possibilities of what I can do with God's help in many difficult and excruciating circumstances. I have pulled through and I am so thankful for all I continue to learn.</div>
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Tomorrow is a new day... and with that day I will grab a hold of my savior's hand and march into the battle taking each moment at a time. I know I will stumble and fall. I know life will continue to hurt me. But I know that I can make it. </div>
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<b>OH, VICTORY IN JESUS,</b></div>
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<b>MY SAVIOUR FOREVER</b></div>
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<b>HE SOUGHT ME</b></div>
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<b>AND HE BOUGHT ME</b></div>
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<b>WITH HIS REDEEMING BLOOD</b></div>
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<b>HE LOVED ME</b></div>
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<b>ERE I KNEW HIM</b></div>
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<b>AND ALL MY LOVE</b></div>
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<b>IS DUE HIM</b></div>
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<b>HE PLUNGED ME TO VICTORY</b></div>
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<b>BENEATH THE</b></div>
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<b>CLEANSING BLOOD</b></div>
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<br />ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-45053971121492219952015-11-16T16:21:00.000-08:002015-11-16T16:27:29.185-08:00To Live Again - Part 3 - Interpretation<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">One of my favorite things to do is stare at magnificent pieces of art and try to discover their soul. What had the artist meant? What was the artist going through? But even more so... how does it impact me and how I feel? I am the one who is viewing and interpreting it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Part of me would like to let you interpret this piece as it is seen in your eyes. Let it speak to you without explanation. But because my personal process of the art is to write it out I am going to interpret bits of it as I have created it to be. Perhaps if you are in the middle of something as awful as anxiety or depression this will give you hope.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">There are four sections to my piece, four interwoven things I would have never truly learned to be or feel empowered by if I had not gone through the deep dark valley. Courage, strength, fight and beauty. In all the sections I have used a picture I took showing myself as vulnerable, broken and yet still focusing up and trying to see God. And even in the days when I can't see God, e sees me and is shinning His light down on my face, enveloping me with His grace and love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Courage -</b></span><br />
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<span class="s1">This is my anxiety. Red shows the intensity anxiety brings and I cut out the picture of myself in a way to show panic. Puffy paint was used to symbolize how anxiety distorts and exasperates everything in its path. All the words describing what anxiety makes me feel are written in mirrors that constantly glare back at me in loud and unending ways. And then a powerful quote <i>"Don't identify yourself with your feelings, you are not your feelings, you merely have them."</i> Something I have learned and am still practicing when anxiety and depression want to swallow me up and overwhelm me. My journey has taught me to be COURAGEOUS! To not hide, but speak out in truth. To embrace each moment as it comes. To rise above. To live out my life as it was meant to be... a gift. To feel empowered by my story and to remember there is a God who created me in His image.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Strength -</span></b><br />
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<span class="s1">This is my depression. Blue was chosen because I tend to identify it with sadness. I painted a cape on myself to signify the physical and mental heaviness that wants to envelope and hide me from the world. On the cape I have written how depression makes me feel and the lies that are constantly whispered into my ear. The falling hearts signify wanting to still love life and all things about it but losing the inability to do so. On one side I have the definition of depression, burnt edges signify my frustration towards the illness. Two faces are shown, happiness being covered by sadness. Trying to keep a straight face with those I love, but being eaten up inside. And then a verse from Psalm 43 that has been very poignant to me in my recovery... "<i>Why my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God." </i>The dark and the light represent how depression has taken me to the worst place in my life but there was still light left in me to find the STRENGTH to ask for help and to keep living. The strength that I found then has followed me throughout my journey and made me into who I am today.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Fight -</span></b><br />
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<span class="s1">This part is all about learning to live with anxiety and depression and being able to accept it. The blue and red scarf show that anxiety and depression are part of me, but I am able to subdue them because of self awareness and hard work. The eye is everyone watching me and making their own judgements, but also those who support and love me. "It's okay" has been a huge part of my journey in acceptance of myself. I have a picture of the internal critic... my giant enemy and my toughest FIGHT of all... the ability to quiet it to a dull whisper has been my saving grace. A picture of Dhrumil and the kids is surrounded by yellow to show they are my light in life and a reason I fight, and also some gray because our family is not perfect, it never will be and that's ok. <i>"Sometimes I can imagine that one day we'll throw it all out and start again." </i>To me this means that every day is a new day, filled with moments to be caught and time to be spent right now. Being able to fight for myself has changed by world. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Beauty - </span></b></span><br />
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<span class="s1">The truths of who I am, the parts I have learned to embrace, the knowledge that I am broken yet free... they have taken root and grown. The weeping willow I painted represents the hope I found in the BEAUTY of these truths. Forever I have loved weeping willows... the peaceful sway of the branches in the breeze have brought me to a place of tranquility again and again. It was this image I would focus on while I made my way through labor with my babies and this image that helped me many times when panic wanted to overtake me. By the tree is a picture of what I found in a parking garage once in the midst of my illness... it was as if God had placed it there for me to see that day... <i>"imperfection in beauty"</i> I have tried to embrace this statement. It is ok to not be perfect! And finally my fingerprints. Each with a color of the four truths that now encircle me on a daily basis. The final fingerprint place over my heart to signify that I am me... I have always been me... and I am thankful to be ME!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Soli Deo Gloria!</span></div>
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ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-63740533330142846572015-10-24T06:19:00.000-07:002015-10-24T06:19:58.897-07:00To Live Again - Part 2 - My Art<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzIQ-jrMUAel-FPZXd55ZeMtgO-thhUrZ09foR89lITLdU2cILFyQPv1uc9HmCV5mp1fHpmXBHmaV4joi-xYgsA5qVkX9inu04x0Wu9f6bN41zDK2rVOZcaSPHPymPUn3x8Pkmk0/s1600/I+am+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzIQ-jrMUAel-FPZXd55ZeMtgO-thhUrZ09foR89lITLdU2cILFyQPv1uc9HmCV5mp1fHpmXBHmaV4joi-xYgsA5qVkX9inu04x0Wu9f6bN41zDK2rVOZcaSPHPymPUn3x8Pkmk0/s640/I+am+Me.jpg" width="508" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><b>To Live Again</b></span></i><br />
My discoveries through Anxiety and Depression</td></tr>
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<i>*Stayed tuned for Part 3 which will cover my interpretation of the piece as well as close ups of each section. </i></div>
ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-52048622592796802962015-10-23T18:00:00.001-07:002015-10-23T18:00:47.761-07:00To Live Again - Part 1 - Art as Therapy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzgTr34Upc3vcRvqETBE9VIeIdPckcMj2kha-5-8sTgCRPvvJWk71Cqt7rjTDXBrkBKzBUJoSSYEvj-K_j1UWDVaqnQ7Zg1BNe5rq-4ECnxNbVndm8vHLThSzrdUWwkySnAfR-Qk/s1600/poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzgTr34Upc3vcRvqETBE9VIeIdPckcMj2kha-5-8sTgCRPvvJWk71Cqt7rjTDXBrkBKzBUJoSSYEvj-K_j1UWDVaqnQ7Zg1BNe5rq-4ECnxNbVndm8vHLThSzrdUWwkySnAfR-Qk/s320/poster.jpg" width="201" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My freshman self engraved in ink</td></tr>
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When I was in College I had the privilege of performing in the play <i>I Never Saw Another Butterfly</i>. Based on the true story of WWII concentration camp survivor Raja Englanderova, the story centers around her time spent living in Terezin. Amidst losing all whom she loved, her stories of the camp spoke of the horrors while retaining a world filled with butterflies and flowers with the other children in the camp. This play was based off of a book by the same name which is a compilation of drawings and poems created by the children who were imprisoned in Terezin. Out of 15,000 children who passed through this particular concentration camp, less than 100 survived.<br />
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When I played the role of Raja I was nineteen years old and had not yet faced any true struggles of my own. Finding her voice was difficult as I had to dig deep into the horrors of the war and attempt to wrap my head around the travesty done to millions. I barely skimmed the surface of what Raja must have felt like, but for me it was an all encompassing darkness. However in the midst of the horror was refuge for Raja and the children of Terezin. Famous intellectuals and artists who were imprisoned in the camp used art, writing and music as a form of therapy for the children throughout their stay. The children had an outlet to express all they were experiencing which shined a small light on such a bleak time. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">The last, the very last,</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing </span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">against a white stone....</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Such, such a yellow</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Is carried lightly ’way up high.</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">It went away I’m sure </span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">because it wished </span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">to kiss the world good-bye.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Penned up inside this ghetto.</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">But I have found what I love here.</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">The dandelions call to me</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">And the white chestnut branches in the court.</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Only I never saw another butterfly.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">That butterfly was the last one.</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Butterflies don’t live in here, in the ghetto.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span>
<strong style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pavel Friedman, June 4, 1942</span></em></strong><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Born in Prague on Jan. 7, 1921.</span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Deported to the Terezin Concentration Camp on April 26, 1942. </span><br style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;" /><span style="color: #3b3b3b; font-family: Verdana;">Died in Aushchwitz on Sept. 29, 1944.</span></span><br />
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The art of the children and how they worked through some of their traumas within a creative outlet stuck with me all of these years. When it came to creating my own art therapy project my mind went back to this play, this story and those children.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzkgebgfEu5WtKUUNRl0e4PbdqPbuFVcisgQod8whm0DdY7rPFrpI_D4tCaKFwF03flOS-67c8fW5qjvM6LD2aIxV866hjM3goHt8wvYIGqbQTtgmvFJqcRVvGfvTKkWItHMrVt4/s1600/doodles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzkgebgfEu5WtKUUNRl0e4PbdqPbuFVcisgQod8whm0DdY7rPFrpI_D4tCaKFwF03flOS-67c8fW5qjvM6LD2aIxV866hjM3goHt8wvYIGqbQTtgmvFJqcRVvGfvTKkWItHMrVt4/s320/doodles.jpg" width="199" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first doodles... and horrible spelling</td></tr>
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I have sporadically kept a journal throughout my life, writing about things that were important to me, but also using it as an outlet for whatever angst I was going through at the time... teenage dilemmas, boy drama, college choices. I can remember first adding drawings (aka doodles) to my writing in middle school while on one of my European trips. The pictures from my mind filling in the gaps that my words could not. I by no means think of myself as an artist and have often wished I had skill in that area. I am a very visual person and see so many things in my mind which I wish I could create on paper or canvas.<br />
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During the fight of my life that depression took me on these past few years I clung to my journal and wrote and drew. I played my violin to numb my mind and silence it. I also used this blog to help me get through many hard nights. All of these forms of art provided expression and a way to work through and understand what I was feeling.<br />
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A few weeks ago a picture came to me... my journey, my recovery, my lessons and what they all looked like. I decided I had to somehow get it out and took the step to go to the craft store. Staring at shelves and shelves of every medium available to create I chose a few items. Uncharacteristically I didn't put much thought into what I hoped would translate into my vision and was unfazed by the normally overwhelming array of things. I even left the store unfazed that my two year old was having the tantrum of his life!<br />
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Excitement filled me as I took the pictures that would be the base of my project. My mind wanted to make an order to how I was going to create and my type A personality wanted it to go exactly as planned. And then I made my first "mistake" on the canvas... doubt started to creep in, perfection was screaming to take over and frustration and self criticism were lurking in the background. Who was I to even attempt "art"!? And then I came upon this quote...<br />
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<b>"If you are willing to do something that might not work, </b></div>
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<b>you're closer to being an artist" </b><br />
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I made my mind up. Be now, be focused on where being now wants to take you, use what you have learned on this journey to be your guide and do this for yourself because YOU are worth it. </div>
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<i>*To be continued in Part 2 - My Art</i></div>
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ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-13318286094376215962015-09-17T14:12:00.000-07:002015-09-17T14:12:02.692-07:00Acceptance... againI realize the summer has gone by and I haven't blogged. Sometimes I take an unintentional hiatus <br />
from writing because life is... of all things... going well. I find that writing is more of an outlet for my soul when it is troubled. Just listen to the great women of old sing the blues and you'll understand what I mean... the writers of those songs were definitely feeling some intense feelings. Unfortunately this wasn't the case this time...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlQdSVFzb1KOvXzXfBtqRf4D1fvdR8uM3uFq7RkBxhRyBUMxzwo2eRaVa3yXY0akCHagIsb6_ZxOGoJvb194Pbfm9NBFLvlvNUv_JyoFhtsyDBf7jX8pWOZNXXl3y0t5XmkCuHWM/s1600/DSC_0154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlQdSVFzb1KOvXzXfBtqRf4D1fvdR8uM3uFq7RkBxhRyBUMxzwo2eRaVa3yXY0akCHagIsb6_ZxOGoJvb194Pbfm9NBFLvlvNUv_JyoFhtsyDBf7jX8pWOZNXXl3y0t5XmkCuHWM/s320/DSC_0154.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living life to the fullest despite my illness</td></tr>
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It has been two years and nine months since my precious Nolan was born, two years and six months since I realized something was uncontrollably wrong with me, and exactly two years since I completed my hours upon hours of intensive outpatient therapy which had followed my three day stay in the hospital. I honestly thought I'd be WAY over being depressed and eons past anxiety induced panic attacks by now. After all, I was diagnosed with postpartum depression/anxiety... from what certain people told me, and some articles I had read, PPD is "supposed" to go away within a year of giving birth.<b>***</b> I always had an end date in mind because of that and it was not until earlier this summer did it hit me that this illness is not going away like I had imagined it would.<br />
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Do you remember that scene from A Beautiful Mind long after John Nash accepted he was ill with schizophrenia and was now older and talking to a former colleague? The colleague asked if "they" (meaning his delusions) are still with him. I can't remember his exact reply, but in the scene you see the delusions who plagued him sitting silently beside him looking bored, but also waiting with some expectation for him to acknowledge them. John Nash was trying to live his life in the best way he could even though his illness still followed him around. He recognized he was ill and yet he still tried to move ahead.<br />
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And so after that fateful moment of realization that this PPD has morphed into something more... possibly even chronic... did I come face to face with a choice. Do I sit here and wait for my illness to play its course, let it beat me down, give it what it wants, let it fester and feed on my anxiety and self doubts, let it control me... or do I learn to live with it, trying to the best of my ability to move on with it there, but not letting it take over? Was I ready to accept it?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A joyous moment</td></tr>
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I see a pattern in this journey I'm on. Honestly it can sometimes be rather annoying. I wish I could learn my lesson and move on. Some days I just want to shout to God... <i>HELLO!? Enough is enough! I already accepted the fact that I had a "temporary" mental illness two years ago. I accepted that it wasn't my fault that I was dealing with depression. I accepted that my life in that moment would be different and tougher than it had been. I accepted that I had to let go of control and let God be my focus because I was broken... illness or not. BUT I don't want to have to RE ACCEPT it!!!</i> And in my toil I felt a still small voice say to me... <b>ElisaBeth you are my child whom I love. You are not alone. You are loved forever and always. I give you my grace over and over and over again. I am here. And though you may continue to stumble and fall flat on your face and though this horrible affliction of your mind is still upon you I will NOT leave you for you are my creation and I love you. It is ok. You will get through this. </b><br />
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I am going to continue to live my life. Trying to accept where I'm at... being joyous in the moments of clarity, blessed in the moments that I glimpse God's glory in the ordinary doings of every day life and remembering that I am loved no matter what.<br />
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<b>*** </b>I have since read that PPD can become chronic in a percentage of women.<br />
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ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314419630745025961.post-70685967240933077102015-05-06T13:26:00.000-07:002015-05-06T13:30:35.878-07:00Climb Out of the Darkness<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtZvNwm22GR9MmereIvM8QhdJa88rjuSQAeaGYDQV_qqeqiBLEwg7MAINfZGZ3kOpQkRdq8cp57bN1kc_6jZvkPb18sunfxm6Dft6h3hU96i8TKSKIC4P6eOMYPPxIDvcT2WcPX3A/s1600/climb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtZvNwm22GR9MmereIvM8QhdJa88rjuSQAeaGYDQV_qqeqiBLEwg7MAINfZGZ3kOpQkRdq8cp57bN1kc_6jZvkPb18sunfxm6Dft6h3hU96i8TKSKIC4P6eOMYPPxIDvcT2WcPX3A/s1600/climb2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I bought this after my time in the hospital<br />
"she was grateful for the brightness of being alive"</td></tr>
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I was diagnosed with postpartum depression two years ago. Little did I know that when I took that first step to get help I was one of ONLY 15% of the MILLION women in the US who has taken that step! When I chose to push aside the shame and embarrassment that I felt of being a new mom of two whose "loving high" of motherhood had somehow flickered in a moment and was replaced with extreme darkness, I had no idea my courageous steps were saving my life.<br />
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Suicide is one of the leading causes of death in the first year postpartum. The stigma of maternal mental illness is glaring us in the face and many women have struggled alone and in silence... because of this many have lost their lives.<br />
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Since writing about my own experiences with PPD and anxiety I have been astounded by the number of friends who have reached out to me to share their own pain. So many of them felt they were alone in their suffering. So many found the courage to seek help. The ability to look beyond what you "should" be like to what is truth... that you may have an illness... is a VERY hard thing to do.<br />
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A friend recently shared information on an event that I am looking forward to participating in this June. It is called the Climb Out of Darkness. Here is what it is...<br />
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<span class="s1"><b>Postpartum Progress’ Climb Out of the Darkness® is the world’s largest event raising awareness of maternal mental illnesses like postpartum depression, postpartum anxiety & OCD, postpartum PTSD, postpartum psychosis, postpartum bipolar disorder, and pregnancy depression and anxiety.</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Climb Out of the Darkness is held on or near the longest day of the year annually to help shine the most light on perinatal mood and anxiety disorders. The event features mothers and others across the globe joining together to climb mountains and hike trails to represent their symbolic rise out of the darkness of maternal mental illness and into the light of hope and recovery.</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">For more information on the climb and the amazing organization behind it <a href="http://postpartumprogress.org/climb-out-of-the-darkness/"><span class="s2">click here</span></a>. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLgsmTl6pYrJEfp3aC3HPturVI9fsbJjRqcRrKMGMQ069D7_Q_2Q8ynt0vGbzk8HV2HOerotX1vzMMZR4XzqUBm-fAzP_ATPgsNIFHqyoGgnHAnefbvp_lTWqdp-KIG88lz46ng4/s1600/the+climb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLgsmTl6pYrJEfp3aC3HPturVI9fsbJjRqcRrKMGMQ069D7_Q_2Q8ynt0vGbzk8HV2HOerotX1vzMMZR4XzqUBm-fAzP_ATPgsNIFHqyoGgnHAnefbvp_lTWqdp-KIG88lz46ng4/s1600/the+climb.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love my motivational jewelry!<br />
"Be... free, courageous, at peace, true, brave, strong, thankful"</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">I decided to participate in the climb for two reasons:</span></div>
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<span class="s1">First to bring awareness and to help chip away at the stigma. There is nothing to be ashamed of! Women need to know this and they also need to be aware of the signs of postpartum mental disorders. Professionals also need to be aware of how they can help. I had to see may different nurses, doctors and therapists before I found the ones that were truly able to help me and understand what was really going on with me. Possibly with more awareness this may not have to be the case for others...</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The second reason is for myself. I have fought hard against this illness. Very hard. There are still difficult days but I have come SO very far. I thank God for bringing me through this time... for helping me climb this mountain. I thank God for giving me an amazing husband, friends and family. I am such a different person because of this experience and I like who I see. I want to celebrate that!</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">Will you join me and support me in my climb? </span><b><span style="font-size: large;">You can donate by clicking <a href="https://www.crowdrise.com/gwendolynmccomsey-cotd2015/fundraiser/elisabethshah">here</a>.</span></b> </span><br />
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<span class="s1">And again here is the <a href="http://postpartumprogress.org/climb-out-of-the-darkness/">information</a> on what your money will do. Thank you so much!! Let's see what else God has in store for me as I use my story and my struggles for His glory.</span></div>
ElisaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337082039278807020noreply@blogger.com0