plans

For the past few months I've found it harder and harder to come up with anything I want to write. Summer was totally awesome, but since I was working for a family that basically all of you know, it didn't seem right to share the stories I came home with at the end of the day. Now that school has started again, the content isn't a problem... it's the complete and utter lack of motivation.

This week will be the 10th week of the school year (crazy!!!), and for about the first 8 weeks I was completely and utterly miserable. I transitioned from spending the summer working for the best people EVER to my regular, stressful, not so fun job. Coming back from summer is never fun, but this year it was especially awful for me. I missed getting to hang out with the family I worked for over the summer, and although everyone acted like I should just slip back into kindergarten like I'd never left, that's not how it worked out at all. I was totally lost for the first couple of weeks, and then once I got my footing I still had to deal not only with all the politics and paperwork I hate, but also with the disappointment that I was starting my 8th year of teaching rather than staying home with the children I wish I had. All of that added up to a great recipe for depression, and around week 2 it hit. Hard. Luckily, after a few days I picked myself up and reached out to a couple of my favorite people, and as it turns out, all those coping strategies I've learned in the past few years work shockingly well when I actually use them.

It took a few more weeks, but things have leveled out again. The crippling anxiety that always seems to come with the beginning of school has tapered off, even without medication, and I'm finally starting to enjoy my class and not mind so much that God's plan for my job doesn't line up with what I want at the moment. It helps that my kids have said several adorable things lately, and I keep getting compliments on my fabulous teaching. Who wouldn't like that? I also got a student teacher who seems great so far, and I've noticed that unlike last year, I actually enjoy mentoring her and feel confident in what I'm teaching and modeling for her. Maybe there's hope for the school year after all.

It's also the end of October, and while September was a little rough, I'm feeling great right now... huge, huge, HUGE event considering that I can't remember the last time I felt normal in fall without medication. Maybe when I was 10 or 11? If you'd asked me this time a year ago, I'd have told you this day would never come. Luckily, in this case, God's plan doesn't always line up with mine!

the best summer yet?

Yesterday a friend told me that she was pretty sure summer would be the best part of being a teacher.

My immediate response was that yes, summer is definitely the best part of my job, but as I thought about it today, I remembered that it wasn't always that way. The first few summers were lonely and boring, particularly my first summer here in Dallas. It was nice to have two months off work, but sitting at home all day by myself wasn't all that thrilling. In fact, it was pretty depressing.

This summer (so far) has been the best yet. As of a few weeks ago, I'm completely off ALL my depression and anxiety meds for the first time in almost three years, and I feel great. This time last year, I thought this day would never come, but by the grace of God, it did. Just thinking about the healing and change in my life makes me smile uncontrollably. I'm also babysitting part time for a family that I adore, and they just happen to love me right back. I wake up in the mornings excited to head to their house to see what the boys and their mom have planned for our day. And we went to the lake last weekend with our new community group and had a great time, AND I made it home without getting sunburned. June is going great so far.

There are still some changes going on that I don't like or understand, but at the moment I'm so thrilled with the blessings of this week that I've been able to put those fears aside. I can see how some of these difficult situations are opening up new opportunities that I never thought I'd have, but it's still hard. I want things to be the same. I want my own way.

I want what I know... even though what I'm getting may be better.

the longest week

I started this week with exciting news: as of last Monday, I'm no longer on an antidepressant. I'm still taking my other meds for now, but hey... it's a step. The rest of the week has been varying degrees of nightmarish as I've experienced basically every withdrawal symptom ever documented.

This morning I awoke to what I hope is the light at the end of the tunnel. I can stand up without losing my balance. I don't want to scream at everyone around me. I think I might make it through school tomorrow without wanting to cry. I feel like myself again, and that's a huge relief. The true test will be to see how I feel in a month, two months, six months...

Part of me doubts that my mood will remain stable without this drug (it's the first thing that had any lasting impact on my mood swings), and the rest wonders if that's selling myself and God short. I'm not the same person who started this particular medication almost 18 months ago. Even this week, as I felt so overwhelmed I could hardly breathe, I turned to Him... to His promises to give me strength and never leave me or give me more than I can handle... and I made it through.

I'm both anxious and encouraged for the days to come... to see what healing and life they will hold!

shattered

Yesterday I started reading the book Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb, and about five minutes in, I realized that this book was going to hit on many of the themes in my life lately including a major one... if God is truly loving, why is life so difficult?

Over the past few weeks, I've watched as the dreams I had for my life have, in many ways, shattered. In my fairy tale, by now I'd be a young, stay-at-home mom with cute kids and a beautiful home. In my real life, my friends are moving forward with starting families while I have once again begun the frustrating search for the right combination of crazy pills that will keep me sane. Despite all my work and all the programs and counseling I've done, my depression returned. Again. This just isn't how I dreamed my life would look.

I don't know how I'll feel about this book in the end, but so far I find it both challenging and soothing. For most of my life, I've heard all the "right" Christian comfort, but it feels almost offensive most of the time... like a way for the person to escape the pain that I can't escape. People want to hear that I trust that God will ultimately take away my struggles or at least give me happiness despite them, not that I'm hurting and confused and at times want nothing to do with the person who allows this pain to occur even though He could stop it at any time. They don't want to deal with the grim reality that God's plan for my life may INCLUDE this struggle. Forever. It may not go away. And they often don't want to consider that, maybe, just maybe, this is NOT a reflection of my worthiness as a Christian.

Why does God allow pain and heartbreak and shattered dreams? Maybe, like Crabb suggests, it is to draw us closer to Him... to strip us down until we can see deep in our souls that we need God. Maybe it's to teach us things we'd never learn otherwise. Maybe it's to allow us to comfort others who are experiencing that deep pain as well. Maybe it's all of these things and many others. All I know is that I can't accept that it is simply to punish us for a failed relationship with Him...

I sometimes wish that I had the seemingly easy life that many people around me have... the ones who float around happily while all their dreams come true. But, as I was reminded this week, the trade off is often a life filled with inauthentic, surface only relationships to avoid the struggle of really living life with people, of really delving into the depths of our own hearts and seeing our own weaknesses and faults.

For whatever reason, I've had more than my fair share of pain in my life thus far, and that sucks. But, the pain has definitely revealed my soul and drawn me closer to God, and even in the midst of a low time, I am still glad to have caught a glimpse of my authentic heart.

my chemical imbalance is cooler than yours...

I know it will shock some of you, but I religiously read the website dooce.com. If you're brave, you can check it out... it's one of my links. The author, Heather Armstrong, is pretty much everything I'm not: an outgoing and vocal ex-Mormon who can be crude at times.

I respect her immensely.

Last December I opened my inbox to find a link to one of her recent entries:

http://www.dooce.com/2007/12/13/because-i-couldnt-say-it-phone

I read it mostly so I would be able to have an educated discussion if that friend asked what I thought, but I was immediately hooked. Her honesty hit straight to my heart because I could relate to every word she said.

Like Heather, I've dealt with chronic depression and anxiety for most of my life. I knew as a young teenager that something was very wrong, but I chose for years not to get help. I was afraid of the stigma of therapy, not to mention a label, and I was steadfastly opposed to medication... until I finally hit rock bottom and all the prayer and Bible study in the world couldn't pull me out of my darkness. I realized I had a choice: treatment or death. I went with treatment.

For a long time, I kept my choice a secret. In fact, to a number of people I know, it's still a secret, and that saddens me. I consider my experience in therapy and my relationship with my therapist to be one of the greatest blessings in my life, and though I'm still not a fan of needing daily medication, I'm thankful for the stability it provides. I've learned a tremendous amount about grace and what it means to love like Jesus from the people who've walked through treatment with me. I've finally begun to see myself as He sees me. Recovery has been excruciating at times, but I have never experienced God as tangibly as I have during these months. I couldn't be luckier.

Unfortunately, in the conservative Christian circles I run in, far too many people still believe that mental illness and particularly being on psychotropic drugs makes a person less of a Christian. This ignorance deeply saddens me. So many aching people are isolated from the mainstream church because we hide our hurts, habits, and hangups for the sake of looking like the picture perfect congregation. So many others hide within the church for fear of being ostracized if people knew who they really were. That so many might miss out on the healing God can bring because admitting their imperfections would open them up to ridicule breaks my heart.

I hope that as mental illness slowly loses its stigma in society in general, the body of Christ will follow and envelop the hurting in its loving arms. Until then, I pray that the hurting people around me will find the courage to seek recovery even if it's not easy. I did, and it is a choice I will never regret.