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Praying hard…

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I’ve not hidden the fact that I am a Christian, that I pray, and that I have been diagnosed with depression.  Sometimes I feel like all three of those things are what define me lately.  I think about our Lord constantly wondering what His plans are, every day praying for direction and guidance.  I pray for Him to take away the depression, just literally take it away and since that’s not happening soon enough for me, I also thank The Lord for placing me in the hands of wonderful professionals who know how to treat me.  I thank Him for the knowledgeable and warm doctor and therapist I am in the care of.  I heard on the radio today, “pray hardest when it’s hardest to pray”.  Wow.  What  a statement.  I felt like this was directly talking to me because when the depression rears its ugly head I find it hardest to pray.  I find it hardest to believe He is with me.  I know in my heart He has not left me and God never will leave me but in those times of “grayness” and confusion I do pray when it’s hardest to pray and sure enough the fog lifts and I again feel secure in the love of my Lord.  And I’m so glad I did pray. Sometimes all I do is praise Him and thank Him for the many blessings He has given me. Many times just doing that; thanking and praising is enough to kick start some serious prayer session and I’m so glad I did that.

I saw my doctor yesterday. I let the depression carry on while I tried to fight it while refusing to call my doctor. Finally I just grew tired. Tired of feeling as if life is just passing me by while I mark off time. God placed this warm, extremely competent and caring physician in my path, I am a fool to not take advantage of that. I learned recently it can take a somewhat long time to recover from depression and trauma. Interesting, in my opinion anyway. I seriously thought I would take some meds, get some therapy and be on my happy way. Wrong. I never in a million years thought I’d still be in this battle. It is a battle and I’m fortunate that God is with me. I pray when it’s hardest to pray and He hears me.

The least of these

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Last week I was on the subway and there was an obviously homeless man sprawled out sleeping on the seats across from me.  He was very disheveled, dirty and his hair was all over the place, like it hadn’t been cut or groomed since who knows when.  Being the people watcher that I am I found this man fascinating.  Every now and then he would half awake and mimic in a high pitched voice the subway conductor who would warn, “Stay clear of the closing doors” between each stop.  I couldn’t stop staring at him all the while thinking of what Jesus taught that what we do to the least of them, we also do for him.  I will admit the homeless man scared me.  I was afraid he would catch me staring at him when he opened his eyes now and then.  I kept thinking, “Was I supposed to do something” for him as a Christian?  Where’s the rule book?  I didn’t  do anything except stare and watch him wondering about his life.  He wasn’t asking for money or food, he was merely sleeping on the crowded subway.  Was he ok with being homeless, was he mentally ill?  The thought that he may be mentally ill made me sad. This man was somebody’s son maybe brother.

I’m not proud that I was afraid of him.  But the whole subway ride I kept thinking of Jesus and what He would have done which was a heck of a lot more than I did.  I was wondering because I call myself a Christian am I really talking the talk and walking the walk?  I don’t believe it would have been a safe thing to do, to approach this man alone as a woman, but it make me think more about Jesus and what He would have done.
 

Change of pace

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Now that our youngest child is approaching 8yrs of age, I find myself wondering where do I fit in now?  When everybody was younger and Thomas was living home it was easy to define my role.  I was/am The Mom.  The Stay at Home Mom.  Overseer of all my children. Taking care of everything for everybody.  Now that the girls are older and Thomas isn’t living at home anymore  I find myself  in a state of not knowing what to do with myself.  I’m tired of cleaning ~ I used to clean like nobody’s business trying to keep up with these stupid standards I had in my head, but now I don’t have those standards anymore and I just keep everything nice.  However these days we’re in the middle of a kitchen ceiling renovation so things aren’t as “nice” as I’d like them to be.  So getting back to fitting in, I feel like an anomaly of sorts.  I do know other SAHM’s who are at or around my age and I have this thought in my head that I’m the only one having a hard time that I’m still home, wondering where I fit in.  I should ask them how they feel, but I think there’s a part of me that’s afraid they are going to say how happy and fulfilled they are staying home and meanwhile I am not.  

Then I tell myself that I’m exactly where God wants me right now and I just need to let go of my anxieties concerning this and know that He has a plan.  I’ve been applying to jobs for months now and I haven’t heard boo from any of them.  Right there that should tell me I’m supposed to be home right now.   I just don’t want to be.  I wonder how women did this stay at home thing many years ago, it wasn’t expected that they return to work after the kids went to school.  They just stayed home.  I guess they had many hobbies or something.

With everyone getting older I’m not needed as much.  I know they still need me, heck I still need my mother at times.  But there are more times that they are so independent of me I’m left wondering what to do?  And as whiney as I may sound don’t be mistaken I don’t even miss the days that everyone was small and totally needed me.  No, I don’t miss that at all.  In fact I cringe when I see some mother at the mall or grocery store and she’s trying to shop with all these small kids around, or the mom in the school yard trying to keep an eye on everyone after school.  No thank you. 

Maybe I need a happy medium?  I just need to find that.  Or a job.

 

Adventures at the flea market

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I almost forgot to write about the flea market I was a vendor at a couple of weeks ago. I figured it would be worth it to rent a space and try and get my business cards and my name out there.  I set up my space with all my merchandise which consists of pre-owned clothing, shoes and handbags (www.nayaudo.com is my website).  I was by myself of I would have set up a tent to keep the sun at bay.  I was fortunate that the next space over was a lovely retired couple selling Royal Dalton figurines along with some various yard sale nick knacks.

I thought I came prepared.  I had merchandise, change, I brought my lunch and water bottles.  I even had a comfy chair.  People are funny at flea markets I’ve concluded.  They do not want to talk or chit chat.  They just want to look over your “stuff”.  Most people didn’t even respond when I said, “Hi how are you?”  Strange I tell you.  Anyway I said I thought I was prepared.  What I wasn’t prepared for was the haggling!  Man.  When asked a price I was immediately met with an answer of half my price.  Half!  That’s not haggling that’s insulting.  I would shoot back another price just as fast.  I became a quick learner. I also learned to start higher on my pricing strategy and stay firm.

It was also the best opportunity for people watching. I loved seeing the couple next to me deal with hagglers. At one point the wife became annoyed over a customer haggling her over a dollar for a set of drinking glasses. Seriously? Yes the hagglers became amusement. It was also noticed that the nicer someone dressed was NO indication of whether or not they would spend money. A well dressed mother/daughter pair carrying expensive handbags was very quick to literally paw through my merchandise and not buy a single thing. Meanwhile, the more modest dressed customers were much more polite (still haggled me) but were more likely to buy. I thought that was interesting.

I am planning to attend another similar flea market next month. I can say this time I’ll be even more prepared and I hope not to get as haggled down again.

Diagnosis’

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It’s funny when there’s no one specific diagnosis for your child.  There’s no banner to wave or cause to support. No dinners or fundraisers or awareness day.  Specifically my son.  Thomas was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder shortly before his 6th birthday.  This was the first diagnosis to try and explain the behaviors we were dealing with.  And it made sense at the time (still does for some behaviors).  About 5 years ago we saw a well respected neurologist who in combination with Thomas’ history and test results (MRI, IQ tests, etc…) declared our son as one with “static encephalopathy” which is short for brain damage that won’t get worse nor will it get better. 

I covered these diagnosis in the very early entries of this blog but I don’t expect anyone to remember, if you do I’m impressed :).  Anyway I find myself sometimes envious of those parents with specific diagnosis.  Not envious of the specific diagnosis believe me I don’t think any special needs parent has it easier than any other special needs parent. 

I think I know what I sometimes miss as Thomas’ mother. When he was first diagnosed bipolar I dove into an online support group and found the most wonderful people there. The support I received was second to none and the people were so full of compassion. They had knowledge either learned first hand or they were very well read keeping up on all the latest literature. I even attended a fund raiser with one of my friends (Diane) and we had a ball. These days with Thomas not living home and not being “exactly” bipolar I don’t feel identified with any such group. I still adore and keep in touch with the people I met but we don’t just see our “kids” as just with bipolar, we support each other as parents on a similar journey. As parents period. Parents who have a child with special needs. Overall I think that’s what it should be about. We’re all parents dealing with situations outside the “norm” when raising our children. We all have similar feelings about certain situations. There are many universal emotions we all go through. Although, to play devil’s advocate to myself I do understand certain disorders/diagnosis do have specific issues only another parent or care giver would understand. On the other hand, one of the best conversations I ever had was with a woman I had never met. I was given Jeanette’s phone number so I could speak to another parent who’s child was aggressive to her and they had to place their son in residential care. Jeanette’s son is autistic, but diagnosis didn’t matter one bit. We met and bonded over similar behavior, similar emotions, similar fears. We spent over an hour on the phone talking and even laughing.

These days with Thomas away at school I don’t get many opportunities to talk with other parents like I used to. His school holds events here and there but we’re not always able to go due to the distance and the girls’ schedules. Some days I miss being a part of that “group”.

Discouraged and disconnected.

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I haven’t blogged in a while mainly because I haven’t had much to say.  I’ve been discouraged and disconnected.  Discouraged because my job hunting (along with many others) has been fruitless.  Disconnected and not feeling a part of my life, like it’s just going on without me.

Today I’m relieved to admit I no longer feel discouraged or disconnected.  No, I haven’t found a job but it’s ok.  I’ve stopped measuring my worth as “less than” because I’m still at home.  I’m where God wants me to be right now and no amount of temper tantrums will change that unless it’s what He wants.  I’m still actively job searching but no longer discouraged. When the right job comes along and I know it will, everything will fall into place. It’s just taking a lot longer than I had hoped. But it’s not my plan anyway.

As for feeling disconnected, I didn’t even realize I was disconnected until Tommy pointed it out to me.  I thought I was “ok” not realizing I am missing out on my little world. I wasn’t really enjoying anything either, even thrift shopping believe it or not was not working it’s usual magic.  When you do get disconnected it’s not pleasant and you distance yourself from everything and anything. Hence me not blogging. (This isn’t to say any time I don’t blog I’m feeling that way, sometimes I really don’t have much to say)  I realize (now) this is part of a defense mechanism I have from dealing with the trauma of Thomas being aggressive with me.  I feel like “still??”  This is still freaking affecting me?  My gosh seriously?  But yes it is.  I guess there is no expiration date in dealing with things that are traumatic in your life.

Speaking of Thomas, he will be home this weekend for Mother’s Day.  I’m glad he’ll be here and he’s really looking forward to coming home. 

So I feel like writing…

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Yes I feel like writing but I don’t have a specific topic I’d like to cover.  I notice I get more inspiration when I write about God.  Why is that? I think I’m still on a spiritual high from singing with the choir yesterday, nervousness aside.  I notice Mondays after we sing are usually quite sweet.  I’m still singing the songs from the day before in my head.  Singing His praises.  What could be better than that?  I’m no longer doubting if I am “enough”, it seem once I get things off my chest by writing this blog, the issue seems to resolve itself.  Coincidence?  No, since I don’t believe in coincidences only God’s plan. 

I’m really looking forward to Easter service this year.  It’s the first year I’ll be singing with the choir on Easter Sunday.  In the past few years it was too complicated with the kids and/or Thomas.  The songs that were chosen are just perfect and glorify our Lord in such a wonderful way. 

What else do I have to say?  I’m not sure.  I know I’m in a good place today and the sun is shining and my family is healthy and God loves me.  Jesus died for me.  Today I read Romans 5:8 “…but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”  Powerful.  

Isaiah 55:9 spoke volumes to me today.  “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher that your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” 

I have on my phone for a screensaver 2Samuel 22:33 (KJV) “God is my strength and power: and he maketh my way perfect”  Isn’t that just the truth.   

 

 

Enough?

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Today (Sunday) was choir day.  I usually love choir days (at our church we typically sing 2 Sunday/month).  But today I was so nervous.  I have no idea where this nervousness stemmed from.  I am not usually nervous to sing with our choir, I love singing with the choir.  But during these past rehearsals I began wondering if I were good enough.  I loathe this anxiety of mine.  Loathe it. That is where this nervousness stems from.  Once we started singing in front of the church the nervousness went away and I truly enjoyed singing His praises.  Singing to our Lord. Singing with my choir family.  And I remembered how blessed I feel to be a part of this ministry and to be able to worship Him, like this. 

Recently I’ve been wondering why I doubt myself so.  There are times that I wonder if I’m Christian “enough”, but I don’t have an answer for what would make me *more* Christian.  Reading the Bible more?  Praying more?  Witnessing to strangers? Believing more (if that is possible)?  No, I don’t think those are the answers either.  But regardless I feel like there is more I should be doing and I pray consistently for guidance and discernment to know that the path I will be set on will be His path and not any other’s. 

These are my thoughts.  I’m not looking for advice or to be analyzed.  I’m putting this out there as perhaps I’m not alone in my thoughts.  I can’t be the only one wondering if there’s more I should be doing for our God.  And what exactly might that be?  What if I suddenly get an epiphany of direction, will I follow it?  I like to think that yes I will follow His lead because after all His plan is the only one that would be perfect regardless of my or anyone’s thoughts on the matter.  There are days I feel on the precipice of change.  And I get nervous.  Yes, that nervousness again.  However nervous I may feel I do trust him and I know His way will be the perfect way.

 

Guardianship

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Check off one more thing I never thought I’d be doing, filling out paperwork to become our son’s legal guardian. Thomas turns 18 this year.  I dislike dealing with this stuff even though I know it has to be done to protect him.  The fact that he is going to be 18 years old is enough to blow my mind all by itself. 

This isn’t a poor me/pity post.  I’m in awe of where the years went. When I was in the thick of fits and tantrums and running from doctor to specialist trying to get help time seemed so slow…it dragged to be honest.  I remember the first time we had an “official” diagnosis, Thomas was just about 6 years old.  How the heck did I get through 6 years of no answers?   Somehow I did it.

Now today I look at the papers for legal guardianship and I’m amazed that we all made it through the past 18 years.  I know I couldn’t have made it through the past 5 years or so without God in my life.  His hand is on our lives and for that I’m so very grateful.  Without The Lord I know Thomas wouldn’t have been admitted to the school he attends now. The fit is so right. Things don’t just “work out” that way without His control being asserted.   His path and way cannot be denied. 

I know when I stop procrastinating and really sit down with my husband and fill out the guardianship papers we will need help and guidance and I know we’ll get what we need.  

Being Changed

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Lately I find myself reminiscing about how I used to be.  Some of it is the “me” pre-depression, I think I was pretty happy all in all.  In the middle of all that I’ve been changed by the Lord.  Changed in that I don’t like to do certain things, some I never liked at all but would indulge here and there so as to not be a spoil sport.  But last night was kind of a turning point.  My husband and I met old friends for dinner which was great, we hadn’t seen this couple socially in years and it was nice to get together.  After dinner, Tommy and I agreed to go to a sports bar to see another old friend’s band play.  I thought if would be fine but honestly it wasn’t.  Let me just pre face this by saying in the past 10 + years I have not been one to go to bars.  I prefer to go out to dinner with friends and talk normally like human beings, not scream in each other’s ears over the mayhem and loud music of  a bar.   Same goes for loud parties.  Call me old I don’t care.

So we’re at this bar and I rarely drink anymore.  Mainly because of the medication I’m on but I honestly believe this was part of the Lord’s plan as well.  You couldn’t talk to anyone without yelling in their ear plus the place was very crowded.  That part is a plus for our friend’s band.  The band was great, loud but great, they all had a wonderful time playing together and they sounded awesome.  But…this is not for me and I knew it when I agreed to go.  I found myself wondering when this happened.  That I would be at a bar pretty unhappy to be there watching everyone drink around me at times reminiscing to when I was ok with it.  When I would have a few drinks and chat, make small talk have a few laughs.  Really try and have a good time and I would have a good time.  But last night I just couldn’t.  I wouldn’t drink for fear of the alcohol making me want to go to sleep, I wouldn’t make small talk because it was just too difficult over all the noise.  I felt so changed, so very different from everyone around me.  I kept thinking of how I used to be.  I was different.  My comfort zone was different. 

I’m not a “better” person these days.  Just a different person.  I don’t care for crowds, and being where all the people are, just give me a table for two and we’re cool.  I might have one drink.  But these days I find it’s hit or miss if I enjoy that drink or the way it makes me feel.   

 

I felt so very changed last night.