Just a couple of the leprechaun-ish antics activities we’ve been up to:
(Left: Wee Leprechaun; instructions at FamilyFun)
(Right: Rainbow poems, printable from Let’s Explore)
Last but not least, we’re going to try and bake these rainbow cupcakes for Ken’s birthday tomorrow! Hoping they’ll taste as pretty as they look….
Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you all!
(**Warning: This is going to be a lengthy post. I debated splitting it into parts, but I believe my thoughts can best be gotten across in one long narrative. Feel free to come back and read when you have more time.**)
This post has been a long time coming.
Really, all other “The Real Me Challenge” posts in the series have led to this last subject. It hasn’t been easy to sit down and finally write this down. But in delaying the task (or not writing about it at all), I feel I am being disobedient….as well as not 100% “real”….which I promised at the very beginning.
So let me tell you what my main struggle is right now. The thorn in my flesh. The chain on my ankle.
Its name? Anxiety.
Anxiety exists in many forms, and it appears at many ages. For me, it’s been a lifelong label.
My earliest memories of fear and anxiousness are ever-present with me:
- Constant stomachaches as a young child, then the diagnosis at age 4 of having a “nervous stomach.” A prescription for thick, olive-green lime-tasting liquid medicine that Mom gave me whenever I complained of having one.
- Unreasonable fears that persisted into mid-childhood. As a young child, I feared the worst and constantly asked, “What if?”
- Fears of illness, and extremely detailed memories of illnesses of my childhood.
- Nightmares and night terrors.
- Extreme nervousness before big events (camp, family vacations, etc.), to the point of not eating well for 1-2 days beforehand.
Though my fears and anxiety never totally left me as I grew up, they, thankfully, became less oppressive and more or less laid dormant throughout my high school and college years.
Fast-forward to late 2000 – early 2001. I was a newlywed, a college graduate, and the new owner of a home. I had everything I could ever ask for. But anxiety came back, a visitor that wasn’t welcome.
It all began as a resurgence of stomach issues. My family doctor put me on prescription medicine for irritable bowel syndrome (IBS). My weight plummeted, and I felt weak and tired all the time.
When we learned suddenly that we were being relocated to city in another part of the state (away from friends and family), I went back to the same doctor for advice on how to handle things. I didn’t know exactly why I went or what I thought he would say or do. I just knew I wasn’t taking things in stride. Maybe just something to “take the edge off” while we moved. What I received was a prescription for an antidepressant.
Feeling as if I had responded well to the medicine and was more or less settled, my new doctor in the new city took me off of that drug after a few months. It was then that anxiety began to manifest itself in a way I had not seen before — an incredibly scary way.
Anyone who has had a panic attack knows the sheer loss of control felt when one occurs. My first one happened in a movie theater. It wasn’t a scary movie. It was Shrek, for goodness sake. I was sitting there, enjoying a fountain drink and the film with Ken, when it hit me out of nowhere. Clammy hands. Racing heart rate. Dizziness. Shortness of breath. Flashes of light in my peripheral. Sick stomach. Tight chest. Utter and complete belief that, if I did not get out of there immediately, that I was going to die.
The movie was almost over, thankfully, so I was able to exit with everyone else, not cause a scene, not worry my husband. But what…had…just…happened?
This happened not one more time, but several, over the next few months. It was so severe that I quit going to the church we were attending. (Why? Because their services were held in a movie theater.) The avoidance of situations and places had begun with just one perpetrating, paralyzing event. The loss of control I felt was terrifying. My entire world was shaken. Nothing felt certain or safe anymore.
Obviously, this plunged me to depths I’d never before experienced. Desperate, I sought out the counsel of a local and respected Christian counselor/psychologist. That first meeting was surreal — and extremely hard to accept.
“I know all about this stuff,” I said, staring at the doctor. “I’m a psychology major, for pete’s sake. I know the DSM-IV back and forth and up and down. I know what this is. But I guess I’m here hoping that you’ll…..tell me it’s not what I think it is.”
Eight years later, I am still living with the diagnosis. I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder with Obsessive-Compulsive tendencies.
As I forecasted, having children did compound (and bring more to light) this condition. Nowhere in the definition of parenthood is the word “control.” I am forced, as a mom, to face my fears like never before. I fear germs and my kids being sick. I fear I’m not being a good-enough mom. I fear tragedy.
I am still seeing a counselor monthly, someone who is helping me make slow and steady progress forward. I am taking a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication, a prescription brand that I finally found works more for me than against me (some of you know what horrible side effects this class of drugs can carry.)
(photo from stock.xchng)
And, too — I have faith that I will be healed of this one day.
But even if I’m not, I will still give God glory.
For if there’s one thing I have learned from this exhausting journey, it’s that it is sometimes our weaknesses and shortfalls, our ailments and our afflictions, that God chooses to use to help others and reflect Him.
I’m not writing this post to seek out self-pity. I am not writing it as an excuse to talk about myself. I’m writing it because I feel that I need to write it — not for me, but for others. Other people out there who are in the middle of the the same things — or feel as if they’re on a road heading toward it. Those who feel like they’re the only ones. Those who are weary and tired of pretending. Those who feel as if it’s their fault.
Let me tell you that it’s not your fault. Another thing I know is that anxiety and depression are not just psychological — they are physical ailments. Whether the cause is unknown (like my own) or the condition is jumpstarted by a traumatic event, a chemical imbalance in the brain is the effect….the definition of this illness.
I want this type of ailment to be as understood and seriously regarded as other physical ailments such as cancer and multiple sclerosis. Like these diseases, it takes time (and often medicine) to heal.
I want to help to change the general opinion that mental illness is someone’s fault — for something they did or didn’t do right. I want to help stop the rumors. The misconceptions. Help bring to light and openly dicuss a taboo subject that’s nowadays more secretive and untouched than the subject of sex.
I was inspired and provoked to write about my struggle with anxiety on Muses of Megret after reading several posts recently on the subject….namely on the transparency that comes with blogging about it. (Janice at 5MinutesforMom was candid about her own story — and the comments on her post are about as candid as the post itself.)
Then I saw a couple of weeks ago where a friend of mine talked about stepping out on a limb to obey what God wants us to do. The very next Sunday our pastor spoke on the same thing. Coincidence? I think not.
So I’m taking this huge leap of faith today. Telling the truth because I feel that I need to. Knowing deep down inside that some of you will not see me the same ever again. I’m okay with that.
I’m not gearing up to fight opinions and deflect judgment. (Believe me — I am my own worst critic and have had enough judgment inflicted on myself BY myself to last for a lifetime.)
I’m focusing on other people today, those of you for whom my post today struck a familiar chord. Those of you who might be struggling with the same thing. This post is for you.
So to those of you who feel alone, you aren’t. I implore you to do as I did and seek out help, making a move toward taking control of the grip anxiety (or depression) has on your life. The first step is not easy — believe me, I know — pride crumbles and independence seems to flicker for a moment. But you’ll soon see the trail of positives behind your first few shaky steps.
Thank you for listening to my heart today.
Monday, March 8th – Sunday, March 14th, 2010
Monday:
Chicken Parisienne
Creamy Polenta
Sauteed Mixed Vegetables
Focaccia Bread
Tuesday:
Pasta with Sausage and Peppers
Green Peas
Focaccia Bread
Wednesday:
Baked Fish
Green Beans
Kernel Corn
Thursday:
Date Night
Friday:
Angel Hair with Marinara
Sauteed Mushrooms
Spinach
Garlic Bread
Saturday:
Spicy Turkey Meat Loaf with Ketchup Topping
Dijon Mustard-Glazed Broccoli
Baked Potatoes
Corn on the Cob
Sunday:
Pizza Margherita
Salads
- Home Cooking in Montana made some yummy-looking homemade Samoa Girl Scout Cookies…my husband’s favorites!
- Peekuboo: Free interactive stories for toddlers and preschoolers.
- How cute is this Swiper PB&J sandwich?
- Sure wish I’d gotten started with the 365 Project on Jan. 1st. Looks like fun — and what a keepsake idea to put them into an album! Is anyone out there taking part/sticking with it?
- Easy instructions for making button cover ponytail holders. My little girlie and her Grandmama made some this weekend. Adorable!
I have recently been thumbing through my past “Works For Me Wednesday” posts and realized I’d been taking part in this round-up for quite a while! I have some backlogged posts I thought I’d pull out today….a couple of them being the most-searched-for topics on Muses of Megret.
So, today, enjoy what has workED for me!
Then head over to this week’s guest host, Rocks In My Dryer, for more WFMWs. Lots of great ideas!
1. For the perfect cup of coffee, do these things.
2. Cleaning and sanitizing bath toys
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