The Grand Conclusion

So it only took me... say... four and a half years to come upon what I shall now call The Grand Conclusion (cue the trumpets). Staring me in the face this whole time was the simple answer to my most innate and inner question yearning to be solved multiple times a day.

(cue more trumpets)

My house... my dwelling place... my peaceful abode... well it's going to be messy almost always. And I am just going to have to be ok with that.

SIGH

There you have it.

6am this morning... all sleeping peacefully in their beds, all things silently sitting in their places, toys picked up, kitchen clean, toilets flushed, laundry folded, no strange smells coming from anywhere.

6:15am and the little Tasmanian devil yells to all that he has awakened. An hour later (and already one clean up later done by my wonderful husband before he went to work) and things have started to appear in disarray.

9:00am having escaped the downstairs toy pile-up and half cleaned breakfast dishes I was attempting to

get dressed when I heard a huge crash in Nolan's room. The sound of multiple toys colliding together sent chills down my spine. The laughter that immediately followed allowed me to continue dressing and postpone the inevitable survey of damage.

9:15am I came out of the bathroom to see ALL of the pillows we owned surrounding Nolan in the
middle of my bedroom. He was gleefully allowing his sister to pile them around him and the more she added the more he cheered.

It was in that moment where I stopped the words that were about to leave my lips... the words that would have put a damper to their fun and would have been something along the lines of "what are you do... you have to clean... what the... why do I even...what's the point in... ahhhh." Instead I took a deep breath and The Grand Conclusion hit me in the face.

The kids were having fun... the cleaning would eventually happen... my world was ok with, or HAD to be ok with, mess. I decided to let their fun outweigh my sense of urgency to put every pillow back in its place. There are more important things in life and in these moments of little kid chaos than to constantly keep a straightened up home.

And so here I sit... staring at a mess... too tired to get up and clean it. And even if I did nap time will come to an end and the mess would be back again in two seconds flat. So I guess it's time to embrace the new me... the me who can go to sleep with the family room littered with toys, dishes in the sink and a less then perfect smell in the house. This season is sure to end and I don't want to look back on it remembering all the cleaning I did, but instead remembering the giggles and joy that can only come from two adorable chubby cheeked little kids.

I Blame Yo Yo Ma

Ah nostalgia... how I love you... how I hate you!

You often catch me by surprise, capturing my mind by the beauty of a memory. Toying with me as I remember who I used to be, and implanting longing to be that person again. You make me feel the highs that I once felt from my former self, the jubilation of a season that is past.

Then the loathing I have for you seeps like something sour that is meant to be sweet. I'm consumed with sadness for I can not experience those moments again. I feel anger towards myself for allowing myself to miss the past.

This bundle of feelings... this brain that will not cease to just be. This all came about today because of
Yo Yo Ma... I blame him!

The kids were strangely quiet and serene while I prepared dinner, allowing me to skip the normal Frozen soundtrack in lieu of something a little more peaceful... I decided on Yo Yo Ma. From the first notes of the cello I was immediately transported away from my vegetable chopping and mama-being, to a time when classical music, the violin, being an artist... they defined who I was. All the feelings about who I was then, and all of the work I put towards being that person settled over me. I remembered the camaraderie of other like minded young people, the friendships formed out of loving the same thing. I remembered the moment I watched Yo Yo Ma play... the opportunity to meet him... the anxiety that kept me from meeting him.... then the annoyance at my teenage self for skipping such an amazing opportunity.

Silly... still being mad at myself for something that happened almost twenty years ago. Annoying how everything in my life has to be a learning experience... which all seems to relate to now and understanding the role anxiety has played in my growth. With the anger towards my young self starting to overtake me along with the frustration and sadness of missing such a wonderful season in my life, I noticed the squash I had been chopping was now mush....

And then the age old question... the nagging, annoying question that nostalgia grabs from my very being again and again and again and again hit me like a ton of bricks... "WHAT WAS THE POINT OF ALL THAT!?" Look at who I am today... I'm wearing gym clothes covered in mashed banana and crusty lunch. I am referee, cook, cleaner, bather, nurse, magician, entertainer to two little kids who enjoy pouncing on me all day. Some days I go hours without speaking to another human being over that age of 4. What of my schooling? What of my work experience? What of my talents and gifts? Am I losing brain-watts every moment I try to teach my son to say "woof goes the dog?"

Obviously the answer is no...

No I'm not losing brain-power. And yes there was a point for my life before today. I am who I am because this is who I chose to be right now. Who I was is still in there, who I will be is in there too, and all of that makes the beautiful person I am today.

The past was a tremendous gift, but the present is so much more. Being a stay at home mom can sometimes blind me with loneliness, isolation, and longing to be more than, but the thing is I am SO much more than I can ever imagine I could be.

And with that I will end this post. To ponder on... to think on... you are SO much more than. In whatever you do, you were created in His image, in His likeness and you are special.

Darn nostalgia.

A Beautiful Realization

It has been a struggle for me the past few weeks. The terminology would be "setback" but I hate saying that. It's as if I have been rebuilding myself brick by brick this past year and a bunch of bricks were just flicked off. So hard to build, so easy to tear down.

I believe I have been pretty open about my struggles with God these past months. As I have been reminded... those who have suffered greatly are bound to have a faith crisis at some point. It has been extremely hard to see God's role in my depression... especially in the setbacks. Of late I've been feeling abandoned by Him.

Coming up in the next few months are poignant anniversaries, if you will, of the worst moments in my depression. The first is next week. The knowledge of these anniversaries have put me on edge... the memories flood me like a dam that has been unleashed. These memories, along with the "setbacks," have given me an extremely negative outlook right now and further distrust towards God.

Today I was having a conversation with a dear friend who reminded me how incredibly far I have come this year. Her observation along with the conversations with my therapist and Dhrumil this week seemed to come together as I mulled them over in my head.

And then as I was I about to go to sleep last night the following poem came to me. Tears ran down my face as my own pen spoke the truth of the matter...

I have not been abandoned by God.
And I never will be abandoned by Him.

A Beautiful Realization

You know who you are

You see her right there

She's the one staring

Her eyes glimmering, Her skin fair

You see every flaw

Every sin

Every shame

But do you see the girl who is no longer in such pain?

Can you look past where you are

To see where you've come from?

You've climbed reach-less mountains

You've discovered the sun!

Don't dwell on the battles that are sure to still come

But turn your head toward the victories you've already won

God has been there too

or would you rather forget?

He is the one who saved you

AND He's not finished yet

So open your eyes my dear beloved one.

Give yourself mercy...

Give yourself the Son

Beauty and strength

Courage and might

They have all helped you win

Helped you fight the good fight

Now look again

See the girl who has come so far

You can do this, you can beat this

You are who you are

Beauty HE made you

Beauty HE sees

And He is real, He is there

He comes to you like the warm ocean breeze

Panic Made Me Run

Who would have thought learning how to control my anxiety/depression and panic attacks would teach me how to run?

I have never been one for exercise. And I have definitely never been one for playing sports. Gym time and I have had a rocky relationship spanning almost 25 years. It was the fifth grade when I realized I couldn't quite kick the ball like the other kids. That led to the ninth grade where I was picked last for every team sport and overheard a kid complaining to the teacher that he didn't want me on his basketball team. Then on to the "fun" ultimate frisbee games my friends wanted me to participate in during my college years... all I ended up doing was huffing and puffing from one end of the field to the other. Oh the volleyball nightmares, the kick ball nightmares, the throwing a football nightmares, the running the mile in high school nightmares (I was always the second to last kid to finish.)

awkwardness at its finest via ballet costume
circa '95

Was I a couch potato? No way... I was always riding my bike somewhere. I was involved in classical ballet until 19... some say ballet dancers are the toughest athletes out there.  I could never be that kid who felt confident in the gym and unless the sport was archery... just leave me be!

I bring up my past because I feel it has something to do with how I looked at the gym in my adulthood... doesn't the past always have a way of creeping into our now? Anyways fast forward to age 26... the french fries and ice cream didn't just magically disappear anymore. It was time to get healthy... I had to begin exercising. Dhrumil signed us up for the gym... I went once after being dragged...it was awful. I couldn't bounce up and down on a machine I didn't know how to use a mere two feet away from some stranger. I went with a DVD at home.

Fast forward again (two kids later) to last summer... the Doctors said exercise would be good for my mental health. We signed up for the gym again. This time I didn't feel so self-conscience... I figured out the machine and I too bounced up and down... trying to ignore those next to me. But it was still work to me... horrible dreadful no fun work. And then it just became too much to drag myself there. And so me and exercise had another hiatus.

Funny how certain ideas/people/activities may pass you by multiple times in your life but you may not click with them until the time is right. How many times had I tried cheesecake and it wasn't for me, but now I love it? How many times did I roll my eyes at the chore of planting flowers, but now look forward to it? What about an acquaintance I had years ago who has now become a good friend? I could go on and on...

This is how it is with me and running.

Last year around this time I wrote a post about starting to run... running and I have had a hate-hate relationship. It has been a once in a 5 year thing for me... never lasting past the first day. It kinda went hand in hand with the hating the playing sports/gym thing. I could never get past the mental block that I wasn't good at it, thinking the feeling of burning lungs would never go away and feeling people were looking at me as I ran.

But then something happened. I decided it was time to get healthy... ever since I had Nolan I have been working insanely hard to just get back to a healthy mental place. Now that I'm somewhat there I knew it would be good for my mind and body to get exercise and to maybe try to lose those last few pounds. I told Dhrumil I was going to start running to which he just looked at me.... rightly so as he was well aware of my track record. But then with an encouraging yet cautious smile he replied... go do it!

And I did!

The timing was right. Me and running clicked. Everything I have learned in overcoming my mental obstacles found there way into my mind and set my feet into motion. It has now been a little over a month and I have run close to 5 days a week.

My recipe for success?

Third day running in a row... "hey maybe I can do this"

1. The pressure is OFF! 
There is no set time, no set route, you are doing this for you! Whatever you need today your body will do.

2. Focus!
Put the mental blinders on, concentrate on you, who cares who sees you, you know you are doing great!

3. Concentrate!
Don't worry about making it up the next hill, just think about your breathing, sing a song in your head, listen to the wind, contemplate life and where you are at, think positively

4. Be NOW!
You are here, you are you, no worrying

5. Don't Panic!
WAIT you're running!? You HATE running!? No don't panic, its ok, just breath, just relax, just BE

Whenever I finish a run... no matter how far or how long... I feel a great sense of accomplishment. If I had to stop for a few seconds to walk... no problem. If I took a shorter route... who cares. I got out, I did it for me, I am empowered.

Running has been a good reminder of what trials in life can do to you. They can make you stronger, they can make you wiser and they can push you to be you and to accomplish things you never thought possible!

Acceptance

Do you accept who you are? Do you accept your circumstances this very moment? Do you accept that you are human, that you are imperfect? However imperfect you may be... do you accept that you were created by a perfect God who knows you so intimately that He knows what you are going to say even before you say it?

This past year has been a lesson in acceptance... a lesson which is ongoing. From the moment I learned I had postpartum depression my journey of acceptance began. 

ACCEPTANCE: The act of taking or receiving something offered. Favorable reception; approval; favor

In the context of depression... the definition of acceptance seems ironic. Was depression offered to me? No it was forced upon me, out of my control. Did I want to take it? Of course not... I wanted to run the other way. Favorable reception that my life was being turned inside out!? How can someone be ok with that? 

Accepting the need to swing!

I had to be... if I was going to get through it. Knowledge that you may not be able to change your circumstances right away but being "ok" with where you are... it brings peace. I had to accept that none of this was my fault, that I was dealing with an illness, that my life was what it was. In suffering God may not bring healing immediately, but He will work through circumstances that will give you the tools you need to get through the dark days. God placed so many people, places, things in my life... all that helped me deal, helped me ACCEPT.

As I approach the "anniversary" of what were the darkest months in my life, I find myself once again struggling to make sense of it all. The enormity of what I experienced hits me with gale force winds making it difficult to shield myself. The lies which once permeated my every thoughts momentarily find their way back as whispers of self doubt. 

It is time for me to accept... once again... where I am at. To accept that I'm still going to have days where I need to fight a little harder. Days where I need to process what I went through and seek closure. And to accept that this journey is continuous... it's life... and I'm not alone.

And I'm Feeling Good

While trying to find the words to write about this past month, a song Michael Buble sings popped into my head:

Birds flying high

You know how I feel

Sun in the sky

You know how I feel

Breeze drftin' on by

You know how I feel

It's a new dawn

It's a new day

It's a new life

For me

And I'm feeling good

I'm feeling good

Are things just as they should be in my life? Um no... Are there still things that need to be worked on? Um yes... BUT the thing to focus on is that I have been able to spend the last four weeks feeling almost completely free from the horrible grasp of depression, anxiety and panic!

That in itself makes me feel the sun shinning (even when it's gross out) and watch the birds flying (anyone else notice the incredible amount of geese flying around?) and realize that this might be IT, this might be my "new life" possibly free of... or at least nearing the end of my road with... postpartum depression.

I definitely don't want to jump the gun on my assessment of myself. But I do want to celebrate the huge steps I have shown of late including no panic attacks for six weeks and throwing a huge birthday party for Mikayla.

It is funny because I thought when I got to this point I'd feel exuberantly happy about all aspects of my life and everything would be hunky-dory. I guess that is because I expected life had to be perfect for my depression to leave. That in itself shows how much I have grown this past year... life isn't perfect and it is never going to be perfect! I am never going to be perfect! My days will be filled with frustration and joy, that is what it means to be human. God covers me with his incredible grace each and every time I screw up. When the world fails me I know that God never will. 

Tomorrow I am 32 years old. There was a time not to long ago when I didn't want to see my next birthday. God saved me from myself and my illness to live and celebrate who I am... and who I will continue to grow to be until my time in this world is over.

Tomorrow is brimming with new challenges and new joys... and I can't wait to face them!

"Today you are you!

That is truer than true!
There is no one alive...

...who is you-er than you!
Should loud, "I am lucky
to be what I am!
Thank goodness I'm not
just a clam or a ham
Or a dusty old jar of
sour gooseberry jam!
I am what I am! That's a
great thing to be!
If I say so myself,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!"
- Dr. Seuss

My Husband

I have been wanting to write a post about my husband for a while now... and yet the thoughts, emotions and words in my mind haven't been able to create a cohesive story. At least a story that could be shared and understood. What I feel about Dhrumil, especially after this past year, somehow passes words altogether.

Parts of one of our favorite song by Andrew Peterson will be my guide as I write this.

                                                               Dancing In The Minefields

Well "I do" are the two most famous last words
The beginning of the end
But to lose your life for another I've heard is a good place to begin
'Cause the only way to find your life is to lay your own life down
And I believe it's an easy price for the life that we have found

And we're dancing in the minefields
We're sailing in the storms
And it was harder than we dreamed
But I believe that's what the promise is for
That's what the promise is for

No one tells you how difficult marriage is going to be. Taking two independent souls who have come from two completely different backgrounds and merging them into one? Sure no big deal! I wouldn't say Dhrumil and I went into marriage with our eyes closed, love did not blind us, but it did give us sunglasses. Leave it to marriage to throw you in front of a mirror to exam YOURSELF and see who you REALLY are! Cracks and all... selfishness and all... sin and all... the good and the bad. Marriage changed us... changed us for the better. Prepared us for the role of being completely selfless.

I believe God played a critical role in strengthening our marriage before I was struck with depression. We went through a difficult year after our first child was born... the very foundation we thought formed are marriage was crumbling. We both decided to fight for US and to work as hard as we needed to to save our marriage. With a support system around us and excellent therapists we came out on the other side united as ONE and stronger than we ever thought was possible.

So when I lose my way, find meWhen I lose loves chains, bind me
At the end of all my faith to the end of all my days
when I forget my name, remind me

'Cause we bear the light of the Son of man
So there's nothing left to fear
So I'll walk with you in the shadow lands
Till the shadows disappear
'Cause He promised not to leave us
And his promises are true
So in the face of this chaos baby,
I can dance with you

During the darkest months of my depression I lost who I was. I had forgotten anything and everything good about me. Dhrumil was right by my side, holding my hand, reminding me who I was. He constantly spoke words of truth, trying so very hard to deter the darkness that was covering me. I can not imagine watching someone you love go through such an illness, an illness that is so out of your own control. But Dhrumil handled it with selflessness, grace and love.

He saw my beauty when I couldn't

It didn't matter how many times I questioned the good in life... Dhrumil was there to remind of the miracles that happen every day. No matter how many times I put myself down in front of him...he was there to encourage me and remind me how amazing I was. When I needed to leave the house... he was there to be with the kids and be the amazing father he is. When I was unable to function... he took care of me, the house, the kids, our life! When I turned my back on God... he let me feel what I needed to feel and ever so gently reminded me of God's love.

God has given me the most amazing gift... and that gift is my husband. The love he showed me and still shows me each and every day encourages me to grow and seek God out more and more. We are a team... however imperfect... covered in grace and unified to grow in God, to lead our children and to love each other more and more every day.

So lets go dancing in the minefields
Lets go sailing in the storms
Oh, lets go dancing in the minefields
And kicking down the doors
Oh, lets go dancing in the minefields
And sailing in the storms
Oh, this is harder than we dreamed
But I believe that's what the promise is for
That's what the promise is for