Depression

My Thoughts

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I’ve been thinking about my blog “traffic”. I get significantly more readers when I post about what’s on my mind or about my battle with depression/anxiety compared to the posts about our Lord and Savior. It’s interesting. I wonder if I offend people when I talk about God and worship and prayer. Or is it that people don’t care? It won’t make me stop and I’m not threatening to post more about God. I wonder if people think I’m up on a soapbox or a “Jesus freak”. I know a few of my friends on facebook are atheists or at least agnostic and that’s okay. I’m not trying to convert anyone I’m simply writing about what’s on my heart that day and my relationship with the living God. That relationship is the most important relationship I have. I would only hope that my written words will touch the heart of someone else reading. Perhaps open the eyes of someone who’s eyes are currently closed. If not, that’s okay as well it’s not in God’s timing to have their eyes opened.

When I write about my battle with depression and anxiety I truly hope I am helping someone who is in those shoes. At the very least help someone to understand what it’s like to walk in those shoes. I won’t be silent or embarrassed about anything I write whether the topic be God or depression. I don’t hide the fact that I take medication and I don’t hide the fact that I love the Lord. How to mesh those two topics is something I work on. I used to think I was depressed because I wasn’t praying hard enough, maybe I wasn’t “Christian” enough. I know now that I was wrong and God placed people in my life to help me. There are no coincidences. It was not a coincidence that my now therapist used to work with a former psychiatrist of my son. She called me out of the blue about 3 months before I needed her, looking for information for special needs adults where I live.  I called her later when I needed her advice in dealing with the school district when we decided that Thomas needed a residential school to meet his needs. I never expected her to become my therapist. She said to me after asking if I wanted to meet for coffee one morning, “You sound like you need a therapist”, I almost yelled, “I do!” It was no accident that she was put back in my life after not speaking to her for over 6 years.

I guess I’m back talking about not wanted to convert anyone. Actually I do hope my written words about God touches the heart of someone in need of a Savior. Honestly don’t we all need a Savior?

So these are my thoughts on this sunny beautiful Friday morning.

I’m Glad…

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I’m sitting on my front steps thinking of how glad I am to be here. Glad to have a new tattoo, glad to not be depressed and glad to have a new job opportunity. A year ago these things were very different. I wasn’t interested in much other than the way I was feeling which wasn’t that great. Last year I wrote about Thomas turning 18 and how I was job searching. Little did I know back then that in 2 to 3 short months I would be hired by my current employer.

I’m glad to be past the baby stage with my kids. Samantha, our youngest is turning 9 years old soon and I’m blown away at how fast time passes. Our oldest daughter is turning 17 this weekend and will start driving. I’m glad I’m here to see that milestone.

I’m glad I have a husband who loves and supports me. In my darkest times it was his support that held me up. I don’t think he knows how much that meant to me.

I’m glad to have a relationship with God. I don’t know where I’d be without Him in my life. He is an awesome God and I wish more people knew Him and knew the Gospel. That the Lord God gave his only son so that we would be reconciled with Him. An incredible gift and all we have to do is invite Jesus in to our hearts to receive this gift.

I’m glad.

19

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My son turned 19 today. I can’t believe 19 years have passed since I became a mother for the first time. My Thomas. The one who made me grow up and become an advocate. I wasn’t looking to be anything other than a mother in those days.  I certainly wasn’t looking to be the mother of a special needs child. That was not in the “plan”. As if it’s in anybody’s plan when you start your family . I once read on a special needs parenting message board, “when you agree to become a mother you essentially agree to become the mother of a special needs child…” Meaning you usually don’t know that that child will have issues, or something to that effect, the exact words escape me. I’m not sure I agree with that statement but I’ve never forgotten it.

Being Thomas’ mom changed me. To this day I’m still being changed and challenged and growing and grieving. I don’t think the grieving ever stops when your child is special needs. You never stop wondering the what ifs. We have the added bonus of having to trust virtual strangers to care for our child since he cannot live at home. We have been blessed with the residential facility that Thomas lives at. These “strangers” have earned our respect and many times when we are fortunate enough to see the staff that cares for our son, we are more than happy to be in their presence. More than happy to inquire about their well being. I’m happy to be on a first name basis with the social workers and charge nurse. I’m very happy to be on the receiving end of a hug or kiss hello from them. It’s been 3 years this June that Thomas entered the residential facility and I’m extremely happy to say for the most part it’s been an uneventful 3 years in that there hasn’t been any emergencies or drama or situations to make us unhappy.

This 19th birthday also marks three years that I’ve been treated for depression and anxiety. I first sought help before Thomas’ 16th birthday.  I’m thrilled to be feeling as well as I do. It’s been a long road and now that I am in the light I don’t mind talking about the dark times. I don’t want to dwell on those times but if my writing about my dark time can help someone else and know they’re not alone it’s worth it. 3 years ago I never thought I’d be where I am today.

Transparency and Radio Preachers

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I envy those who write with such transparency. Raw-ness. I strive to be like that.  I recently read a blog post about the Semicolon Project http://www.thesemicolonproject.com/.  Their statement is: “A SEMICOLON REPRESENTS A SENTENCE THE AUTHOR COULD HAVE ENDED, BUT CHOSE NOT TO. THAT AUTHOR IS YOU AND THE SENTENCE IS YOUR LIFE.”

This blog post really struck me as I have been there. I’ve been in that dark place where I wanted to end my sentence.  But I didn’t.  Instead I was saved by a radio Pastor. I was on my way to visit Thomas in the psychiatric hospital and I honestly thought this world would be a better place without me in it. The only thing that kept me here was my husband and my girls. I wasn’t worried so much about Thomas as he was the catalyst to my depression. Anyway, I was driving and I liked to listen to a Syrus radio station called “Family Talk” or something like that. It was a station that, every half hour was a different talk from a different Pastor. The only name I can recall was David Jeremiah but I don’t know if he was the one who was preaching. So here I am driving and listening to Pastors’ preach and this one Pastor began talking about suicide. He didn’t say how evil it was and how you were going to hell for taking your own life. No, this Pastor talked about what a gift we were from God. How our bodies were a gift. And why would anyone want to hurt something that was a gift from God? I’ll never forget that sunny afternoon and that Pastor from the radio and how he literally saved my life. I’ll also never forget that I have a God who was thoughtful enough to put me and that radio Pastor together on that afternoon.

So reading about “The Semicolon Project” brought it all back. But it’s ok because I don’t recall that time with tears. Instead I remember it as if I’m remembering a movie I watched. It all seems so far away especially considering where I am now. I’m in a place of peace and I’m happy. Thanks be to God and the right meds.

Blogging and Popularity

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I was wondering what I have to blog about to get a lot of traffic. Part of me doesn’t care all that much since I mainly blog for myself and share with everyone what I’m thinking about at that moment. But… there’s another part of me that wonders what it is like to be a popular blogger with a ton of readers. I don’t blog about anything controversial or obnoxious. I do blog about my life and my relationship with God. I also write about how life was like when I was depressed (clinically depressed not just a sad mood).

I find myself holding back many times. Whether it be to protect myself or the feelings of others. There is so much about my depression especially the very dark times I haven’t written about. I wonder who I am protecting? Myself; my family?  I read some bloggers who have total transparency and I am envious of them. Envious of the ability to be so very open and raw.

For example I never wrote about how deeply I was depressed. It was a very dark time in my life and to be perfectly honest I really felt the world would be better off without me. The only thing that kept me hanging on was my husband and my girls. I wasn’t worried about Thomas as he was the catalyst to my depression. One afternoon I was driving the 2 hours to visit Thomas in the psychiatric hospital and I was listening to a Christian satellite radio station. The station was called “Family Talk” or something like that on Syrus. Every half hour they would play a sermon from well known pastors. I remember David Jeremiah was one of them. Anyway, this particular afternoon during this dark time in my life; the Pastor (who’s name I don’t remember) spoke about suicide. This was definitely from God as no one on this earth knew how I was feeling. This pastor didn’t condemn people and say you were going to hell if you harmed yourself. Instead he spoke of the beauty of oursleves and how our bodies were gifts from God and why would anyone want to hurt God’s gift? I’ll never forget that day or that Pastor because he saved my life. I remember the highway I was driving on and that it was a sunny day. I’m so very thankful to that nameless Pastor and thankful I have a God who cares enough about me to put me and that Pastor together one afternoon.

I’m no longer in that place praise God and new meds. I’m pretty happy with my life right now but that dark time is not something you ever forget. And you have an all new insight and empathy for others going through the same thing. When you hear of someone who did in fact take their own life you understand the pain and despair and I personally thank God for taking me out of that place.

Tattoos

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I want another one. I currently have 4. I need another one. It’s funny because when I was depressed I never thought about anything other than getting through the day. Now I look forward to the next day and right now the next tattoo. I plan to get the tattoo on my left thigh. I will only get tattoos where they can easily be covered up. But that’s me.

3 out of my 4 tattoos have meaning which I’m sure most people’s do. My first one is a butterfly on my left ankle. There’s not much “meaning” other than it was my first. My second is a butterfly on my left back. It’s a butterfly that is taking flight. At that time in my life I felt unsettled and I was looking to fly I just didn’t know it. We were living in New Jersey at the time and I was not happy living there. Hence wanting to take flight. My third tattoo is a tribal (solid black) butterfly settling to land on my left shoulder. At the time I had that one done we had moved back to Staten Island and I knew we were here to stay and that I was ready to put down roots. I love that tattoo.  My final and fourth tattoo on my left foot  is a dandelion being blown into the wind with the dandelion strands turning into birds. . There are 4 birds one for each of my children. The birds range from small to big with the biggest being my oldest, Thomas and the smallest is Samantha, my youngest. I asked the artist to add two very small yellow birds to represent my two miscarriages. You can barely see the yellow birds and that’s ok; I know they’re there.

I almost can’t wait to get the next one. Yes it will hurt but it’s a pain you get used to when the artist is working on you. Hard to explain to someone who’s never gotten a tattoo. But it you have one or two or five and you’re reading this, you understand.

Getting knocked down

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I went to bible study last night and was struck by a conversation surrounding how the enemy likes to strike us down, we then question “why me God?” And wonder why He even chose us to follow Him.

I started going back to church and accepted Christ as my savior when things were going well in my life. Thomas was living at home we had a wonderful counselor for him who came to the house to work on various goals such as going to the stores and paying for items, etc… She easily became part of our family. Life was really good.

Fast forward a year or so and Thomas was having potentially dangerous side effects to one of his medications. We
had to change his meds and it was disastrous. He became aggressive towards me and I was forced to call an ambulance more than once to preserve my safety and Thomas was hospitalized many times. I felt like my world was falling apart. This was
also when the depression started settling in. I remember feeling far from God. That he moved away from me. I even had a dream that I was praying and I had a big glass dome over me and my prayers couldn’t get past the glass to reach God.

At no time did I stop believing or blame God. I did become angry at him but I did not feel forsaken, just separate and broken.

I find it so interesting that He chose me to return to Him and accept Christ during a “good” season in my life and then the storms hit. I kept praying even though I felt so far away. One particular storm lasted for years (the depression).

During this season of my life things are nice. Not stress free but calm. I know He has great plans that have yet to be revealed. And even though I had a season of feeling separate from Him, God never left me.

Blessings

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I have this song running through my head this morning, Blessings by Laura Story. Yesterday my husband and I were talking to a neighbor who also has a special needs daughter. Many of you know about our Thomas who is also special needs. We’ve been through many, many trials with Thomas. And everytime I hear this song I think of him. What if our greatest trial is God’s blessing in disguise?

Anyway, when we were speaking with our neighbor she mentioned that she often wonders what her daughter would have been like had things been different. My husband replied that he often thinks the same thing about Thomas. I do think that also about Thomas. The big “what if?”  What if he’d been born “normal”?. What if? It almost makes you loathe the word, “if”. That word can hold so much. Thomas is one of the greatest achings of my life. It still pains me that he cannot live at home. I know my husband feels the same. I love Thomas for who he is now, not what he could have been. Thomas being the way he is changed me as a mother. And if I were to be able to change him to a “normal” person, would I then have to change myself to how I was before he was in my life?

I honestly don’t dwell on the what ifs because it is pointless. I tend to focus on the present and future which can hold enough worry all by themselves.  But this song speaks so perfectly to my heart. Especially when she sings, “This is not our home…”  No, this is not our home. I often wonder if when I do meet our Lord will I ask Him questions about my earthly life. Thomas being in the forefront of those queries. Why were we chosen to be his parents? Why did God make things so challenging? Why the heartache? Or will I even care at that point? What I do believe is that when Thomas meets the Lord and joins us, I believe he will tell us himself. It will be glorious to hear my son talk clearly and coherently. I was given a glimpse of this in a dream I had a couple of years ago. Thomas was just a typical teen and him, Alyssa and I were just sitting in our front sun porch talking to one another. I have no idea what we were talking about I just remember Thomas being “normal”. I know when we’re all in heaven together we’ll all talk again. God gave me a preview.

His Presence

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God’s presence in our lives is so important. It’s something you don’t realize you have until you feel it is missing. His presence is real and it is powerful. I feel so blessed to have our Lord’s presence in my life.

When I was depressed I missed God’s presence. The depression makes you feel alone and forgotten. I still prayed and believed don’t get me wrong I probably prayed more when I was depressed than I do when I’m not depressed. Or rather I pray differently. These days I pray more in praise of His greatness than for healing. It makes sense now that I’m in a different place.

Today our Pastor preached about “Jars of clay” and how that is what we are as Christians. But we contain a treasure which is the Gospel. I loved it. To know that we carry such a powerful message and it is our charge to spread that message. That Jesus poured himself out and died for us. Sinners. This message is one that we should not contain yet we do.  I do anyway. I don’t see myself as a minister even though that is what I am according to my Pastor. I worry that when presented with a situation to spread the Gospel I will fail. I will fail the Lord and Savior I worship. My only calming thought is that the Holy Spirit will not fail me and carry me and my words to exactly who and where they’re supposed to be. I wish for boldness in spreading the Gospel.

His presence surrounds us and I never forget His promise that He will never leave or forsake us. Those truths are what keep me centered and focused.  We serve a mighty and wonderful God.

Giving God the credit.

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I’ve been thinking lately how I haven’t been giving God the credit/glory for my life.  For my husband, my family, my depression being lifted.  Here I am feeling healthy for the first time in a long time and I have the nerve to not give God the glory. I credited my doctor for finding the right medication to prescribe but truth is if it weren’t for God who placed this doctor in my life to begin with I wouldn’t be where I am right now. I had been frustrated that it took as long as it did to find the right medication. There is a reason it took as long as it did. What that reason is? I have no idea but I know it is part of His master plan. God always has a plan. We’re just not always privy to what that plan is.

I think of my testimony of the first time I met the Lord. Thomas was in and out of the psychiatric hospital. And I was angry, so very angry. Angry at God for not letting me “in” to know his plan. I’d never been angry like this before, my husband was even concerned.  My friend Toni suggested I listen to the song by Casting Crowns, “Praise you in this storm”. I’d heard the song many times before, I even sang along to it if it played on the radion. I put the CD in while driving home after dropping Samantha off at pre-K one morning.  As the song played I began crying, and crying. While stopped at a red light (at an intersection I’ll never forget) I had the distinct vision of Jesus standing behind me.  While I was crying I envisioned Him cupping his hand and collecting my tears.  It was beautiful. I drove home in peace and had peace from then on. I was no longer angry at God. I realized He did have a plan and I only needed to trust in Him.

I think now of the trust I had then. I need to always have that trust and know that He is God and nothing is by accident or coincidence. There was no mistake in the medications I tried and they didn’t work. There are reasons only known by Him why I had to go through that storm. And it is by His grace that I came through the storm and I can talk about it.