A Letter to Grief

Today's post is a special link-up with Kate Motaung's "Letters to Grief." Go check out Kate's blog and the many other letters to grief written by my fellow bloggers. If you're so inclined, write your own letter and link it up by using the link up at the bottom of the main entry (click on "many other letters to grief" above).

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Dear Grief,

We have been travelling through life together for nearly two years, but it wasn't until recently that I realized it was you. True, depression has been my companion for this same duration, but I had no idea you had come along for the ride. I think you buried yourself in depression's skirts, keeping hidden until Pendragon saw through your disguise. I would never have seen you there without his help.

He says that you are the reason I wear almost nothing but black and this makes sense to me. Colours feel all wrong and black sometimes brings only cold comfort, but it is a more appropriate shroud to console my broken heart.

I have lost so much in the last two years. Is it any wonder as you have been with me, prodding tears and pulling me down and down and down again? You have pricked my pain and rubbed salt in my wounds and I never even knew you were there. Your whisperings have induced oceans of tears and an ache so deep and so painful that I have wondered if I would ever be at peace again.

You have threaded your way through my very veins, enmeshing with my spirit and severing the ties of head and heart that have allowed me to feel the presence of God. That precious gift of being able to feel Him walking with me, holding me fast, comforting me, giving me peace and solace amidst the storm of depression is gone like so much candle smoke in a summer breeze.

No matter how many prayers I pray, tears I cry, or how many times I beg of Him to restore this to me, the miracle never happens. I have wondered many times why this is so and I believe it is because of you. I believe it is because I am unable to fully let you go.

Oh grief, how I want to let you go!

But I do not know how.

You have brought me so deep into your embrace that I am made weak and woozy at times, drowning in the despair which you pour over my head and despite my desire to break free from your clutches, I find myself falling further into you with each month that passes.

I am heartbroken and spent and hopeless because of you. I had thought you a nameless sadness that was keeping me captive, but thanks to this insight, you now have a name other than that clinical moniker, "depression."

I name you -- grief -- and pray that in giving name to you, I give myself enough strength to escape you one day.

Merry Christmas!

Just a short post to wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas!

Anticipating Jesus and M2

Today's blog post is a part of The Advent Blog-Hop hosted by Beth Anne at her blog Beth Anne's Best! Go check out the other blog entries in this series. Happy Advent!

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In December of 2006, I was in full anticipation mode as we were awaiting the birth of our eldest child, M2, in February. My due date was February 5th and I was getting more excited by the day. We had elected not to find out her gender because I wanted to be surprised, which only added to my excitement. As the days of Advent rolled by, I bought presents for Gray and our families and decorated our Christmas tree. I had been doing some preparation for the baby although we didn't have the crib or many clothes, but as we still had about 7-ish weeks to go, so I wasn't worried. This proved to be a mistake. On the night of December 19th, my water broke around 11pm. After a lot of drama (the entire story is a doozy!) and a very rapid labour, M2 was born just after 3am on the 20th at just 33 weeks, 2 days gestation. To say that we were surprised was an understatement. We had not been anticipating this. 

M2 at about two days old in the NICU. I was smitten with her from the moment I saw her!

Like me, Mary was anticipating the birth of her first (and only) child. In today's gospel reading, Luke 1:26-38, we have the story of Gabriel's announcement to Mary that she had been chosen by God to bear Jesus. We often get caught up in the awe of her submission to God's will and her "yes" to God and we forget that she was a woman who was with child -- like many other women before her and since then. It sounds like a simple thing to recall, but I think we sometimes get lost in all the excitement over who Mary is and certainly who Jesus is that we forget about the very human condition she found herself in as she waited and anticipated His arrival. As we know, Luke goes on to mention her visit to Elizabeth (Luke 1:39-45), but have you ever wondered about the rest of the time she was pregnant and the events in the days leading up to Jesus' birth?

Visitation by Philippe de Champaigne

Obviously, there are no documents that exist which might tell us about this for her, but I can tell you what I believe. I believe she was like every other mother-to-be in many ways. I believe this because I am a mother too. M2 is my eldest, of course, but she has two little sisters as well and they are three very wild but very sweet little women. All three of them are so dear to me and have blessed my life in innumerable ways outside of the womb, but the blessing and joy that I have received because of their lives began before they even made their appearance into this world. There is nothing that quite compares to the myriad of emotions that a woman experiences upon learning that she is pregnant. There may be shock, relief, fear, panic, apprehension, elation, joy, excitement, and anticipation. I know I experienced most of those at varying times during my three pregnancies, but the one that I remember the most during those months between learning that I was pregnant and each delivery is anticipation.

If you think about it, the 40 weeks of pregnancy are one big ball of anticipation. Everything you do is driven by that feeling because in the end, you are anticipating something -- the birth of your child. You take care of yourself, visit the obstetrician, buy baby items, and take classes in birth techniques or parenting. Even your thoughts are filled with anticipation as you contemplate baby names, share your news with others, dream about what your baby will look like, wonder what gender it will be, and worry about whether or not you'll really be up to the task of caring for this new little person. In this way, I think Mary was just like the rest of us mommies. True, she had a heads up on the gender and name, but I can imagine the rest of it was pretty normal.

I can imagine she probably gazed down at her rapidly growing belly and began to wonder if Jesus would have St. Joachim's nose or St. Anne's smile. I'm sure she, along with her female relatives and friends, made the swaddling clothes that she wrapped Him in before laying Him in the manger (Luke 2:7). I have no doubt that there were times that the enormity of her consent (Luke 1:38) to allow the Holy Spirit to overshadow her must have weighed on her as she pondered the task of protecting, nurturing, and raising the Son of God. There is a very popular song that I hear a lot on the radio at Christmas called "Mary, Did You Know?" that asks several questions about Mary's understanding of who this child she was entrusted with really is. I believe that she absolutely knew during those 40 weeks of waiting quite a lot about who this child was going to be (my dear friend and fellow blogger Mark Shea actually wrote a fantastic piece about this song in a FAQ format that goes through the various questions the song asks and answers them with verses of scripture). She had been told much of this by Gabriel and yet, she still consented to participate in God's will for her life.

The Annunciation by Philippe de Champaigne c. 1645

Today is my beautiful M2's 8th birthday and I am still full of anticipation. It is not anticipation about her name or gender or what she looks like, but more about who she will become as she gets older. As I anticipate the celebration of the Nativity to come in a few days' time, I am using these last few days of Advent to ponder what Mary must have been anticipating both as she was waiting for Jesus to arrive and as He, as the scripture says, "grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favour of God was upon Him." (Luke 2:40). She knew so much of who He was because of what Gabriel had told her, but like all mothers, I know she still had questions and wondered.

Me with M2 at her class  Christmas party just a few days ago.

May we all enter into these last days of Advent with a sense of anticipation of His coming -- not just at Christmas but His Second Coming at the end of time and so prepare our hearts to receive Him in these days of celebration and for all eternity.

Five Minute Friday: Adore

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here. 

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2009

It is late on a Sunday night and the humid air outside has only the barest of breezes to cool me as I walk from my car to the chapel door. It is my usual hour to come here. I have been coming here every Sunday night at this time for a few months now. This place, once foreign to me, is now very familiar. I punch in the code on the door lock and turn the handle.

As I enter the small chapel from the outside, I see Him immediately. He is there before me, resplendent and beautiful in the golden monstrance upon the altar. I take a breath, dip my fingertips in the small font of holy water beside the door, bless myself, and fall to my knees on the cold, hard tile. I have needed this moment all week. After a few moments of silent prayer and greeting to Him, I rise from my knees and sign in at the table to my left, before entering one of the half a dozen or so pews that face the altar.

This is my hour to adore. I share it with a married couple, but even though we technically share the hour, I wouldn't miss it for anything. It is here, adoring Him present in the Blessed Sacrament that I may pour out my heart as I sit at His feet. It is here that I may be still and quiet after the craziness of my day. I kneel, take up my rosary, and gaze at him as I begin my prayers and meditations. For the space of twenty minutes, I am caught up in adoration, completely unaware of anything but Him and this moment we are sharing. Everything else fades away -- all sounds, all smells, all sights -- all but the beauty of His face. Everything except for Him fades to a haze and even my troubles and the depression that has been dogging me for the last couple of months seems nonexistent.

I breathe in and breathe out. The rosary beads slip between my fingers, one after the other as my lips barely move, marking the time with the familiar prayers. My mind is meditating on the mysteries I am contemplating and my gaze is transfixed on Him. O my Jesus, I adore You! I breathe in and breathe out. My fingers come again to the rosary center piece and I conclude my prayer with the sign of the cross. Normally I would move, take a seat in the pew, and perhaps read scripture or some other spiritual reading, but tonight I remain kneeling, unable take my eyes off of Him.

I adore.

I gaze upon Him and He gazes upon me. We remain there in this moment together and when, at last, I tear my face away from His, I feel a peace settle over me like a warm blanket. I sit in the pew, but instead of reading, I just sit with Him.

I adore.

Join the Five Minute Friday party at Kate Motaung's blog!

Another little update

Christmas is fast approaching and I have SO much to do -- hence the not posting in like a week. Also, I've been feeling a lack of inspiration of late too and struggling with my depression some too. Sometimes when it rains, it pours...

All that said, I've got a post that's almost ready and will be posted on Saturday. I'm participating in an Advent Blog Hop and this is my contribution! I hope you'll enjoy it. I'm going to try to write a bit over the next couple of weeks, but I'll be with family some, so I might not have as much time for it.

Peace to all of you and yours!

An Advent Giveaway!

I don't know if you're like me, but this time of year is crazy busy and I can definitely do with a little extra TLC. Sometimes you just want to chill out and get away from it all, but if you can't do that, the next best thing is to relax with a nice bath or something that smells nice.

Emily at Our Home.....Under Mary's Mantle is hosting a giveaway at her blog for a gorgeous looking spa set with a lavender and chamomile scent which is called Tranquility. The set is made by the good folks at Honeybird Farms in Excelsior Springs, Missouri. 

Doesn't this just look wonderful?

I've entered and am really hoping to win, but I'd love for any of the folks who read my blog to win too! The giveaway ends at 9pm Central tomorrow December 10th. Go check it out here!

Five Minute Friday: Dear

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here. 

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Dear Depression,

As of the turning of the calendar into December a few days ago, it has been an almost 22 month long journey through your dark abyss. When are you going to let me go? I know that I have a part in your staying, as the bulk of your grasp on me is to do with the things in my head, but I have put for monumental effort at expelling you and still, you barely seem to budge. I don't understand what I have done to deserve so long a sojourn through your clutches, but here I am nonetheless, and at this point, I have no hope that this will ever truly go back to a place of normalcy. I spoke with Pendragon this week about how I am grieving. I am grieving, you know. I am grieving the loss of everything that you have stolen from me.

Just a quick update

I haven't posted anything in the last couple of days because I've been kinda horribly sick. It's just an upper respiratory infection, but it's a particularly nasty one that if left untreated, could become walking pneumonia. It made me feel a bit like this:




I've had no speaking voice for two days (other than a really sad sounding high pitched barky rasp) and started losing my voice about four days ago. All of this prompted me to go see a doctor yesterday where I got diagnosed, got some meds on board, and a prescription for more to take at home. Thankfully, that seems the injected meds I got yesterday and the one dose I took orally last night seem to be helping as I opened my mouth this morning and it still sounded raspy, but not nearly as bad. I still feel pretty weak and run down by this thing too, so I am trying to rest as much as possible, drink lots of fluids, and take my meds as prescribed.

It may be another couple of days before the fuzzy headed feeling that accompanies this kind of thing clears enough that I can write something meaningful, but I'll be back when I'm feeling better. Hope all of you have a wonderful Friday and a blessed weekend!

Pity -- Wednesday of the First Week of Advent

At that time: Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee, went up on the mountain, and sat down there. Great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, the deformed, the mute, and many others. They placed them at his feet, and he cured them. The crowds were amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the deformed made whole, the lame walking, and the blind able to see,and they glorified the God of Israel. Jesus summoned his disciples and said, “My heart is moved with pity for the crowd, for they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, for fear they may collapse on the way.” 

The disciples said to him, “Where could we ever get enough bread in this deserted place to satisfy such a crowd?” 

Jesus said to them, “How many loaves do you have?” 

“Seven,” they replied, “and a few fish.”
 
He ordered the crowd to sit down on the ground. Then he took the seven loaves and the fish, gave thanks, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds. They all ate and were satisfied. They picked up the fragments left over–seven baskets full.
-- Matthew 15:29-37

Pity

During Advent, in the Catholic Church, the colour of choice is purple for the priest's vestments, altar cloths, three of the four candles on the Advent wreath, etc. The reason for this is that purple is a liturgical colour that represents healing, repentance, and mercy. It is the colour of the stole that a priest wears when he hears confessions or when he administers the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick (which calls us to repent of sin, lean on the mercy of God, and be healed in spirit and body). It is also the colour of Lent for this reason. Advent and Lent are kind of sister seasons inasmuch as both are a preparation for a time of joyous celebration. These two seasons help us prepare our hearts for the two biggest Christian feasts of the year -- Christmas and Easter. A big part of this preparation of our hearts is to do things for others -- to be moved with pity for those in need -- and to do something to meet those needs.

Reveal -- Tuesday of the First Week of Advent

Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit and said, “I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and who the Father is except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.” Turning to the disciples in private he said, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.” -- Luke 10:21-24

Reveal

One of the biggest things about the days and weeks leading up to Christmas is that we are waiting to see what will be revealed when we open our presents on Christmas morning. When we pull back that paper, what will we see? Will it be something we've been hoping for or something we take one look at and want to return?

Revelation is a theme throughout scripture. In the Old Testament, God reveals Himself to Noah and gives him the instruction to build the ark that saves mankind and again through the covenant that he makes with Abraham and his descendants. He continues this revealing through the Messianic prophesies and in the ways He interacts with His people Israel. He reveals Himself to Moses through the burning bush and when He gives him the Ten Commandments and through the prophet Samuel who admonishes King David when he has sinned. He reveals Himself to King David when He gives him the instructions for building the temple and to David's son Solomon through a dream where He instructs Solomon to ask for whatever he wants.

Faith - Monday of the First Week of Advent

When Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion approached him and appealed to him, saying, “Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully.” He said to him, “I will come and cure him.” The centurion said in reply, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come here,’ and he comes; and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him, “Amen, I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith.  I say to you, many will come from the east and the west, and will recline with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the banquet in the Kingdom of heaven.” -- Matthew 8:5-11

Faith

"Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed."

What a faith filled statement to make! The centurion who approached Jesus that day showed great faith by recognizing his own unworthiness and yet having the boldness to lay bare his belief in Jesus' supreme worthiness. This statement is on of my favourite parts of this passage because it is both an admission of how wretchedly sinful we are, but also a confession of how perfect and merciful God is. At every Mass that is celebrated on any day, we speak these words just before receiving Jesus' Body and Blood in the Holy Eucharist. They are a little different, but still just as powerful. The words we say are, "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed."

Watch -- First Sunday of Advent

Jesus said to his disciples:
“Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come. It is like a man traveling abroad. He leaves home and places his servants in charge, each with his own work, and orders the gatekeeper to be on the watch. Watch, therefore; you do not know when the Lord of the house is coming,
whether in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or in the morning. May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to all: ‘Watch!’” -- Mark 13:33-37

Watch.

We do a lot of watching in our lives. We watch our children grow. We watch what we are cooking so as not to burn it. We watch for a loved one to return home safely from a trip. We watch television and movies. We watch the seasons change. We watch our gardens grow. We watch the sunset or sunrise.

As a mother of three, I do a lot of watching of my children -- laughter, tears, fights, tantrums, frowns, smiles, dancing, singing, tea parties, Lego building, story telling, modeling shows. I watch the years pass by and my girls get taller and more mature looking. I watch them learning to read, dress themselves, make their own toast, and play outside in our yard unsupervised. I watch all of these things, but one of the things I love to watch time and again is their growing love for God and their faith. It is so sweet and innocent and every time I hear one of them tell me proudly something they've learned in PSR or make a statement like, "You know Momma, I love you and daddy and my sisters and <insert several other family members>, but I love God most of all!" my heart just melts into a puddle.

Faith is so important in this life, but of course, it is our eternal and immortal souls that are the biggest focus of faith. In this passage from the Gospel of St. Mark, Jesus is telling His disciples to watch for Him and be ready when He comes on the last day. Like the disciples, none of us knows the day or the hour when Christ will come again, so we are well advised to make ourselves ready every day.

Obviously in this season of Advent, we are not making ready for the second coming of Christ, but making ready is at the center of what this special season is all about. We make ready our homes by doing things like cleaning and beginning to decorate. More importantly, we make ready our hearts by examining our consciences to discern where we've sinned, confessing that sin to Him and asking His forgiveness and by acts of worship and service.

By doing these preparations of the heart, we prepare a precious gift of ourselves for the newborn babe in the manager. By doing these things, we are joining with the Israelites of old as they waited and watched for the Messiah. By doing these things, we are reminded of the reason for His first coming -- "to save us all from Satan's power, while we were gone astray." By doing these things, we not only prepare our hearts for Christmas but for that second coming and as the Eucharistic prayer says, we "await the blessed hope and coming of Our Saviour, Jesus Christ."

How do you prepare your heart for Christmas?

O City, My City!

This is a continuation of my previous entry London Calling! about my love for and my experiences in the UK and more specifically, my beloved London.

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When I got on the plane in Atlanta to fly to London for the spring semestre in 1997, I had no idea what wonderful adventures and experiences awaited me. I had, of course, heard the stories of previous study abroad students, but nothing could have begun to prepare me for what awaited me when I got off the plane at Gatwick Airport that brisk January morning.

We arrived in London and took a coach from the airport to the study center where we would be living for the term to get settled into our new digs. I was excited to see all the famous sights I'd seen pictures of, but as Gatwick is about 30 miles outside central London, I was forced to wait a little bit as we trundled along in the coach. I nibbled on the Cadbury's chocolate that our program director had given us as we arrived and watched green fields, houses, petrol stations, shops with unfamiliar names, and the flow of traffic on the left side of the road instead of the right.

Yummy, yummy! An assortment similar to what we nibbled on that first morning.

Five Minute Friday: Give

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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I hear the whisper in my consciousness that reminds me that it is yet again Friday and time for another five minutes of writing without regret. I wonder yet again if I am ready and go to look for the prompt.

Give.

What can I do with that? I stare at the word for the longest time and think a million thoughts, none of which are remotely related to "give" or if they are, they are more along the lines of some of my previous Five Minute Friday entries which have fed off the darkness in my mind. I hold back and wonder if I can really do it this week. Am I hesitant because I do not wish to share any more of my journey or is it for another reason? Is it because I wish to write something new instead of the same old thing? Why do I care so much? This is supposed to be writing that is done for me primarily and only shared because I enjoy the community that goes along with it. How long will I sit here and dither over this before I finally screw up my nerve, start the clock and begin typing? Not much longer, it appears as inspiration suddenly strikes and my fingers fly across the keyboard in a rhythmic tapping, leaving letters and words and phrases in their wake.

As I read back over it before hitting publish, I wonder if I dare to share this with the rest of the community. I muse over it and think that perhaps it would be best to stop and leave these words to another day or perhaps another season. I am tired and perhaps I ought to turn in for a few hours sleep before contemplating this again. My fingers still their pace over the keyboard as I insert the last few characters and glance back up over my work. I am quiet for a moment or two, pondering and weighing whether to delete it all and begin anew or stay with what I have written, link up and see what happens. In a moment, the decision is made and I am finished. I decide to offer this up as a little gift of thanksgiving in light of the Thanksgiving Day that has just passed.

It is my gift to you who so kindly come and read my natterings on this blog. Did you notice what I have given you?

Join the Five Minute Friday party at Kate Motaung's blog!

London Calling!

After my Five Minute Friday post last week about noticing London, I've kind of had it on the brain, so I thought I'd expand a little bit on that theme. Here's the first entry in what I hope will be a few about this city that I love so much! Once I write the second entry, I'll link up to it at the bottom of this one!

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-- quote from Samuel Johnson

I admit it. I am in love.

I am in love with a city and that city is London.

Five Minute Friday: Notice

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

Also, in the interest of trying to be my authentic self and letting you "notice" the real me, I'm writing through a lot of intense emotional pain right now. This may or may not come out in my words below, but whether or not it does, it's time to start the clock...take a breath...five minutes...here we go...

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Noticing London

I leave the study center where I live with all my fellow students and step out into the brisk February air. It is cold, but not so cold that I am frozen solid. The sky is a typical sort of London grey with heavy clouds. As I go down the front steps and stroll the sidewalk, I take in the row of attached houses behind me and around the corner. I continue walking, occasionally passing people as I make my way to the Tube station two blocks away. 

On the corner of Gloucester Road, there is the fruit man on the corner. He is there almost every day and I have become a familar face to him. He spots me and gives a little smile, his eyes crinkliing at the corners. " 'Allo there luv. How yer doin' this mornin'? What ken I do ya for?" he says by way of greeting. I return his smile and exchange pleasantries as I select a couple of pieces of fruit, hand over a few pence, and wave goodbye as I make my way to the Tube station. Inside, I put my ticket in the turnstiles and walk through, grabbing it from the other side as I continue my stride.

The Tube zips along quickly and I get off at Victoria Station to find my local internet cafe. The station platform is crowded with people of every conceivable colour of the rainbow. There are Indians, Afghans, Brits, Americans, Italians, Germans, Swedes, Danes, and everything in between. I know because I hear their dialects, accents, and native tongues in conversations as I pass through on my way to the cafe. The smells of the people are mixed too. Some food smells, strong cologne, delicate perfume, a mixture of sweat and dust, and the ever present smell of body odour. 

Behind me, I hear the sound of the Tube train's doors shutting and the rumble as it speeds away to the next station. As I make my way out into the grey clouded daylight, I am struck by this mix of cultures, sights and sounds. All on display, if only one will take a moment and notice.

It is in noticing these things that I have fallen in love with this city of tea, gardens, palaces, crisp BBC and warm rolling Cockney accents, Cadbury's chocolates, and yes, even the slightly piquant body odour of those who are not fond of deodorant. All of it is real and authentic and unabashedly who it is. And I am glad to notice. 

Want to join the FMF party? Click here for more info!

Update on series #ForAlltheSaints

Can I make a confession, friends?

I'm struggling. Life is super busy at this time of year and if I'm being honest, I still have a long way to go in this journey through this period of depression too. The last several days have been emotionally really difficult for me and I think my writing may need to be something that I do as I am inspired for a while rather than just being so structured.

One Lovely Blog Award

I can hardly believe it, but I have been nominated for this award not once but three times recently. I am absolutely bowled over that even one person thought my natterings here are worthy of an award, but three? I am just so humbled. Thank you to all of you who were so generous and kind to nominate me for this.

The first nomination came from my fellow 31 Days blogger buddy, Charlotte whose blog really is very lovely and who is a genuinely lovely person too. The second nomination is from another 31 Days blogger buddy, Barbara who writes so eloquently about being a caregiver on her blog and is someone I'm so very glad to say is definitely a part of my online tribe! Finally, I was nominated by Tara, my sweet friend from 31 Days, whose stories about her mom's struggle with mental illness and her relationship with her mom touched my heart on so many days and inspired me to continue sharing my own story of mental illness. All of these ladies have been a wonderful encouragement to me as I've written my 31 days journey and I am very grateful to have met them and gotten to know them through this challenge.

Five Minute Friday: Still

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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Here I am Lord. The night is quiet and still and I am here, alone, with You.

How many nights have I been in this wee hours' stillness?
How many of those nights have I waited for You to make your presence known to me?
How many of those nights have seen me with tears streaming down my face in anger and sadness and frustration because You won't come near?

My soul has been so un-still for such a long time. I have wanted to rest in Your stillness, but no matter how often I seek Your face, You are silent.

I have tried to listen in the silence. I have craned my ears, desperately searching for some whisper of You in this dark place. But Your voice is no where to be found. My eyes search for You. My voice calls out for You over and over and over and over. I have begged You from the depths of my being to come and lift me from this place, to let me come close to You again and touch the hem of your garment that I might find healing.

But there is no rest for me. There is no still. There is only silence again and again.

I have searched for you in stillness.
I have been brave.
I have kept my promises.
I have chosen life over and over again when everything in me wanted to swallow down death like water.
I have pursued You even when it was supreme agony for me.
I have followed Your commands and Your desires for me.
I have put my trust in the fact that I know You are there despite my inability to feel You or see You or have any indication of Your presence.

But I am tired. And I need the still, steady peace of Your Holy Spirit to pour over my hurts and bathe every one in Your healing balm. I need Your still hands to bandage my spirit's wounds. I need the stillness of physical, mental, and emotional rest.

I want to believe You still hear me. I want to believe that You still care. But I don't know You anymore. I don't know who You are anymore or where You are or if I will ever fully trust You again.

I want all of these things, but I am still angry.

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Join in the Five Minute Friday party at Kate Motaung's blog!

Spoons

During I did the Write 31 Days blog challenge. The series I wrote dealt with my current journey through the darkness of depression. At the end of the 31 days, I wasn't anywhere close to the end of my story -- partly because I'm still living it, but also because it's such an involved story that I only got as far as last Christmas (2013) in the allotted time. I decided a few days after the challenge finished that I want to keep writing about it. I haven't come back to it yet because I've been writing a new series, but the last couple of days have been rather difficult and it occurred to me that one of the reasons might make a good blog post on this same subject of depression.

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One of the questions that most well-meaning friends and family will ask a person who is depressed is "How are you?" Because I don't usually feel like talking much about it or don't want to get into a long and drawn out conversation about how I'm really doing, I often just say, "I'm okay" or if it's someone I don't mind talking to a little, "I'm tired." Sometimes, both of these are a bit of a fabrication. You might be asking why someone would be less than 100% truthful when a friend or family member is genuinely interested in their well-being? Well, it's usually because I'm either all out of spoons or trying to conserve them.

A Reflection on Tea

I'll admit it. I start my day, every day, almost without exception, with a nice big mug of coffee. It is my eye opener and brain defogger and to be quite honest, I'm probably at least mildly addicted to the stuff. Despite this though, I am drawn to tea.

How Do I Become A Saint? -- #ForAlltheSaints

"Do not be afraid to become the saints of the new millenium!" 

- Pope St. John Paul II

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The quote above is from one of the Catholic Church's most recently canonized saints (and a personal favourite of mine), Karol Wojtyła -- otherwise known as Pope John Paul II. He was speaking to a crowd of young people in Rome at an event he helped start called World Youth Day and was encouraging them to pursue holiness with such zeal that they will become the Church's modern day saints. The Church teaches that we are all called to sainthood -- whether or not we are officially canonized by the Church. The essence of becoming a saint is that we pursue Christ with our lives and in so doing, reach heaven after our earthly sojourn is finished. To become saints, we must live lives of holiness and virtue. It does not mean that we must be perfect, but that when we have failed, we turn back to God again and again and again. Following Christ's example and repenting when we fail in that are at the heart of what it means to become a saint. That said, to become a canonized Saint is something that is both the same and also slightly different.

Stay Tuned!

I know I've not posted in a few days, but it's been a rather tiring weekend. Actually, come to that, I'm still really tired and am about to go have a gigantic herbal tea, watch a bit of Doctor Who and try to convince my brain to have an earlier night of it. I've started another entry in my series #ForAlltheSaints, but just don't have the mental capacity to finish it tonight. I'll finish it up and post it at some point tomorrow.

Instead, here's a clip of some scenes from one of my favourite Doctor Who episodes, "The Doctor's Wife" written by Neil Gaiman and starring Matt Smith as The Doctor. It explores the unique relationship between The Doctor and his time machine/spaceship called the TARDIS. The Doctor has been travelling through time and space with his TARDIS for 900+ years at this point and the relationship is a bit like a lifelong love affair. Enjoy!

Five Minute Friday: Turn

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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I watch as she dances, twirling, turning, swooping. She is all long blonde hair, long legs, and a snaggle toothed grin, her big sensitive heart evident in every movement and every word.

I watch as she turns over and over across the floor in cartwheels and forward rolls. She is compact and strong, a bundle of kinetic energy springing forth from her almost seven year old frame.

I watch as she toddles toward the door, giggles, and turns back to toddle to me again. She is growing every day, but still soft with baby rolls, baby soft hair, and laughter.

I watch as the days turn into years and my three girls grow and I long at times to turn back the clock. They are perpetual motion machines at times and then just as sudden, they turn into me for hugs, snuggles, and kisses. As much as my heart longs for days gone past, I am glad to watch them change to become the beautiful women that God is making them into with each turn.

Join the fun at Kate Motaung's blog! 

My Little Flower from Heaven -- #ForAlltheSaints

Like most young girls, when I was a teenager, I longed for a boyfriend. I wanted a boy who would care for me and kiss me and hold my hand walking to classes. I wanted that thing that so many of us want -- romantic love. I dated a couple of guys in high school, had a deep friendship with a guy who I think wanted it to be romance, and definitely crushed hard on several guys who I found attractive both for their looks but also their personality and brains.

As I got into college, I found that I not only wanted a guy I could date, but I was looking at guys with a mind toward eventually getting married. Several of my college friends were in dating relationships and some of those led to engagements and marriages. I went to quite a number of weddings in my early-mid 20s. I was a bridesmaid a few times and sang for a few weddings of friends as well. As much as I was happy for my friends, there was a little piece of me that was heartbroken at every wedding I attended. There was always the thought of "when will it be my turn?" or "when will God bring a man into my life to be my husband?" I prayed and prayed and prayed for a husband.

"Pray for us." Say what?? -- #ForAlltheSaints

So far I've talked about the Feast of All Saints, given you some background on my first experience with the saints, and a brief biography of my favourite saint, St. Dymphna. You may be wondering though, what do Catholics really believe about the saints?

There are a number of common misconceptions about what Catholics believe regarding the saints, but the biggest one is that we worship the saints or somehow place them ahead of Jesus. Another one is that because we ask them to pray for us that it somehow means we believe we cannot "go directly to Jesus" or that because we do ask for their prayers that we don't pray to God directly. In order to help clear up some of these misconceptions, here's a brief "what we believe" regarding the saints.

My Best Saint Friend -- St. Dymphna -- #ForAlltheSaints

I was going to write about All Souls Day yesterday, but to be honest, my friends, I had a really really bad day. Some of you who are reading started reading during my 31 Days series last month which was a chronicle of my journey through a particularly dark episode of depression. As I said during that series, that journey is ongoing even now. As of November 1st, it has been 22 months of putting one foot in front of the other and trying to make my way through this. Some days are kind of okay, but I have a lot of days where the struggle is super real and super hard. This past weekend has been like that but in particular, Sunday. All this is to say that I just didn't get anything written like I had planned.

The Feast of All Saints -- #ForAlltheSaints

Welcome to the new series! I hope you'll enjoy this month long series on the Saints!

The Feast of All Saints is, just that. A celebration of all the saints -- all the holy men and women who have died and gone on to heaven before us. These are men and women whose lives have been examined by the Catholic Church and found to be holy examples, worthy of imitation. In short, these are those who have been canonized by the Church as Saints. Of course, the Church views all Christians as saints inasmuch as we are children of God, but the people who we celebrate on this special feast day are those who are saints with a capital S and have the title of Saint (abbreviated St.) in front of their name.

Because all of these people are important in the history of the Church and have a special role within the Body of Christ, this is a very important feast day. It is so important that it is a Holy Day of Obligation and Catholics are obligated to attend Mass that day.

Even though all the saints are special, they are as varied and unique as non-canonized saints and those of us who are still living. They have been doctors, nurses, teachers, mothers, fathers, scientists, popes, bishops, nuns, monks, priests, children, husbands, wives, martyrs, virgins, kings, queens, servants, nobles, and the poorest of the poor. They have come from every race, most every culture, and many nations across the globe. They are a truly representative cross-section of humanity and as such, certain saints appeal to some people while others saints appeal to others. Of course, the big commonality amongst all the saints is their love and devotion to God and their service to Him with their lives. And that is something we're all called to do as Christians -- love God and love our neighbour.

Their varied lives, experiences, and backgrounds are why the Church assigns each saint a particular patronage that is reflective of some facet of that saint's life. For example, the recently canonized Pope St. John Paul II instituted World Youth Day during his papacy and as such, he has been designated as one of two patrons of World Youth Day (Blessed Theresa of Calcutta is the other one).

Here's some links to some more information on this Feast of All Saints:

• The irrepressibly hilarious and insightful Simcha Fisher talks about why she loves certain saints, why she isn't a fan of others, and why that's perfectly okay
• Ever wondered just how many canonized saints there are? Stephen Beale at Catholic Exchange gives an answer.
• Lacy Rabideau at the blog Catholic Icing gives some great ideas for celebrating All Saints Day with kids -- including costumes, treats (I love the Saintly Stigmata Sandwiches!), crafts, games, and more!
• A recording of my favourite hymn for All Saints Day which inspired this series' title -- "For All the Saints" as sung by the Choir of King's College Cambridge, complete with lyrics.

Tomorrow: All Souls Day!

Do you celebrate All Saints Day in your faith tradition? 
If so, what do you do to celebrate or honor the saints on this special day? 
If not, have you ever heard of or do you know of a particular saint that you identify with or that intrigues you?

Let me know in the comments below!

Introducing A New Series

As I got toward the end of the Write 31 Days Challenge that ended yesterday, I started thinking about what I want to do going forward with this blog. Several ideas came to mind and of those, I think I will definitely be pursuing a couple of them in the future, but in the more immediate present, I want to continue the momentum of daily blogging (I did make a commitment to blog daily back in September -- see more about that here) and do another series.

One of the things in the title of my blog is a reference to my faith. I have been a Christian for almost my entire life, but am an adult convert to Catholicism. I came to the Catholic faith after much prayer and discernment and it is a central part of my identity and informs everything in the way I live my life from the way I raise my children to my politics to my relationship with my husband to the way I view the world and society around me. I am always happy to share what I believe (and why I believe it) with others and as such, am always reading and studying my faith. 1 Peter 3:15 says, in part, the following: "...Always be prepared to make a defense to any one who calls you to account for the hope that is in you..." which is a good thing to consider for any Christian -- Catholic or not.

Keeping this in mind, my new series for the month of November is going to be one on.......

......the Saints. What I want to do is provide an overview of what Catholics believe regarding the saints, some biographies of common saints, and a little bit about the process of becoming a saint. I may also write some on other things that are tangentially related to the subject or post some links to articles or other blogs I have found interesting and informative on the subject.

Given that today, November 1st, is the Feast of All Saints, the title of this new series is going to be called "For All the Saints" which is the first line of one of my favourite hymns about the saints:

"For all the saints, who from their labours rest
Who thee, by faith, before the world confessed
Thy Name, O Jesus be forever blessed
Alleluia! Alleluia!"

I know that not all the folks who have been reading my blog of late are Catholic, so this may not immediately be of any interest to you, but I sincerely hope you'll read along anyway. You may have always wondered why Catholics talk about saints or what the big deal about them is or whether or not we really worship them or not (Spoiler: The answer is a very emphatic "no"). I'll try to make it a fun series with interesting trivia, maybe a song or two, and some good information too.

Do you have a question about the saints or Catholic beliefs regarding them?
Do you have a favourite saint or one you'd like to know more about?

Let me know in the comments below and I'll try to answer your questions and maybe do a feature on a saint of your choice! Also, just so you know, this series will probably not run every day, but about 4-5 days a week. In between, I'll be posting other stuff. Just look for one of the hashtags in the title -- #ForAlltheSaints or #TFASCMSaints!

Day Thirty-one (extra content) -- Five Minute Friday: Leave

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved!

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I have started this Five Minute Friday post four times now. Nothing quite sounds right when I type it. Leave. Time to take my leave of this subject of depression? I'm leaving this here for a while? Going to leave and take a break? Nah, none of them sound right.

So here I am, grasping at straws as I type furiously for five minutes. Perhaps I'm not meant to really compose a coherent thought on leaving. Maybe that is what I need to leave alone. I don't know.

Life this month has been a crazy mad whirlwind of words and activities as October always is and I am, in some ways, glad to leave it behind with the flip of the calendar into November. This time of year is always busy but with this 31 Days blog challenge, this month has been especially so. I kinda wish I could leave home for a few days and go have a rest and retreat. All while I've been writing about depression and the darkness and difficult of my journey through it, I've been working behind the scenes to try and figure out a way to leave my responsibilities behind for a while and get some decent rest. I've tried to figure out how to have a retreat, but nothing seems to be working out for me to leave home and recharge my batteries.

Throughout this journey that I've been on, I have earnestly fought against the urge to leave for good. That is the thing about depression. You want it to end and sometimes the only thing that seems like it will work is to leave life altogether. I've had those thoughts a couple of times this month as I've been writing all of this. It isn't that you want to leave. You just want the pain to leave. Thankfully, I am in a better place with regard to that kind of leaving now than I was a year ago. Yes, I still struggle with it, but I am less desirous of taking that kind of leave.

For now, I will leave this subject and go take a nap. Tonight is Halloween after all and we will leave our house to go out trick-or-treating, so I need to be ready and rested. Ciao amici!

Click here to read other Five Minute Friday posts and here for more information on FMF!

Day Thirty-one: We've Done the Impossible...

I began this 31 Days series with the idea of telling the story of my journey through depression and maybe helping provide some insight and education along the way, but what happened is that I stumbled.

I knew I would.

It's why I gave my series the title "Stumbling Through." I know myself well enough to know that I stumble a lot. The thing about depression is that it provides so many more opportunities to stumble through life, so when I was searching for an appropriate title, it seemed only fitting. The other thing about stumbling is that sometimes you catch yourself and sometimes you fall. I have, thanks to Gray and Pendragon, caught myself most of the time through this journey, but I have fallen too. I haven't really talked here on my blog about how I have fallen, but suffice to say that I've fallen hard enough that it put me behind schedule and very nearly made me stop altogether.

Trying out this Bloglovin' Thing

Apparently to claim your blog you have to do this whole copy and paste code thingie. So here's mine. Go follow me on Bloglovin! And if you do, comment below and I'll add you to my blog feed there too! 

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Day Thirty (part 2): Swingin' and Swayin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas

Note: This is a continuation of a 2 part entry. To read part one, please click here. To read the entire 31 Days series, just click on the tab above.

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Later that day, Balinda and I go fabric shopping at my favourite shop and a couple of others and by the time we are done, it is almost dark. We stop at a local grocery store and pick up provisions for making tacos for dinner, but for me, tacos will have to wait until much, much later. I have plans with Sarah and my other sister in law, Olivia (who is married to Gray's little brother Andrew) to make good on my desire from earlier this summer when I was at the beach. I am going to get a tattoo. I have been thinking about this ever since this summer and the idea just won't leave me alone. I've looked at designs and local shops back home, but haven't done it yet. I know what I want and even have a picture on my phone of it but that's as far as I've gotten until now. Tonight, we are all going to get inked. Both Sarah and Olivia already have tattoos but they are eager to get another one and to come with me for my first one.

Day Thirty (part 1): Swingin' and Swayin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas

It is a few days before Christmas and we are in a hotel room somewhere in Virginia. Everyone is asleep except me. I am sitting here, trying to relax a bit, but struggling with it. Today has been a long day, but a good one. We left home early this morning and have driven all day, stopping as necessary for bathroom breaks, food, and gas for the van and we are finally here for the night. Tomorrow we'll start early again and should arrive at my in-laws' house by 5 or 6pm at the latest. Tonight we celebrated M2's 7th birthday with pizza from the local chain restaurant, cupcakes (one of which had 7 tiny candles in it!), and presents for the birthday girl. She is delighted with the excitement of celebrating her birthday in a hotel room and enjoying pizza and cupcakes in her new pajamas. AB was pretty delighted with the prospect of all the celebrations even though it wasn't her birthday. There is something kind of fun about being on a road trip and I have enjoyed it thus far myself.

M2 with her birthday cupcakes

Day Twenty-nine: Night of Silence

"Cold are the people/Winter of life/We tremble in shadows/This cold endless night/Frozen in the snow lie roses, sleeping/Flowers that will echo the sunrise/Fire of hope is our only warmth/Weary, its flame will be dying soon." -- from Night of Silence by Daniel Kantor

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Thanksgiving has passed and for the first time in my life, I have not been with any extended family. Because of this, the preparation for Thanksgiving dinner has fallen completely to me. I have never done this before, but have manage to pull it off with a precooked ham, boxed stuffing, homemade cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, broccoli casserole, store bought rolls, and a homemade pumpkin pie. It takes a lot of planning and a fair amount of effort on the day of, but everything comes out really tasty and is well-received by everyone, even my sometimes unpredictably picky big girls. It is the first time in a long time that I've felt a bit more like myself. Even so, I find that the effort of cooking and baking drains me and I am much more irritable than I have any right to be. 

Day Twenty-eight: Adrenaline

Note: This is a continuation of a 2-part entry and is a continuation of my story. Please click here for part one. To read the entire 31 Days series, just click on the tab above to access the index page for the series or click here to go straight to Day One.

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The next day I awaken and the dark fog is still there. The emotional anguish is still very present and this despite Gray having stayed home from work to make sure I am safe and his allowing me to sleep in as late as I like. I just don't want to endure this anymore. I fight with this darkness all day long while the big girls are at school and when Gray goes to pick them up from school, it is all I can do to not get in the other car and leave. Instead, I lay in our bed and go back to sleep. Pendragon calls, as promised, a little while after the girls are in from school. I tell him that I am still struggling with suicidal thoughts and urges and I just don't want to do this anymore. We have an appointment the next evening and he asks if I think I will be okay until then. I answer honestly that I don't really know, but maybe. I tell him that I am still struggling with wanting to leave but that I'm fighting it. He asks if I think I need to see him this evening instead of waiting until our appointment. Even though good sense would say, yes, I do need it, I find myself telling him that I will wait. I am not thinking clearly or I would have been more honest with him, but I don't even realise how bad it is.

Day Twenty-seven: Fighting to Leave and Stay

Note: This is a continuation of my story of my journey through depression in my 31 Days series. This entry takes place in October of 2013 and because it wound up being so long, I have split it into two parts. This is part one. Click here for part two. To read the rest of the series, click the 31 Days tab above or click here to go straight to the Day One entry.

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Fall leaves are everywhere now and the weather is cool enough that jackets or long sleeves are necessary for most mornings as we send the girls off to school, although the afternoons are still warm enough for shorter sleeves. The weather doesn't really affect my clothing choices though. They have been the same for months. Black. Black. More black. I really have about two outfits that I wear pretty much every day and they are both black shirts and pants. The only break in my parade of black is Sunday mornings when I wear a long floral printed maxi dress with a solid yellow shrug over my shoulders. To be honest, it is another reason that I hate Sundays lately. I don't want to wear flowers or yellow or any other colour. I have always dressed in colours that are reflective of my mood and as my mood is rarely brighter than perhaps a dark midnight blue and is usually rather black, I don't feel like dressing in anything else. I have tried to wear other colours in an effort to lift my mood, but they just wind up irritating me and pulling me down further. The only other time outside of Sunday that I wear anything except my black is when I absolutely must in order to pretend that I am feeling happy or at the very least, normal. I even have a black cotton nightgown that I wear a lot of the time. The black not only fits my mood, but it is, in an odd sort of way, comforting. Lately I feel so on edge and irritable that the least little thing seems to overstimulate me and makes me want to run away and hide. I am normally very comfortable in crowds and around strangers, but all of that has changed too. My normal extroverted nature has been swallowed up by the darkness of depression and the black that I wear seems to help insulate me a little when I must endure those situations that have a tendency to overstimulate me.

A Huge "Thank You!" and An Apology

I want to thank all the wonderful folks who have been reading this series and have been so very kind and supportive of me. I am absolutely amazed and humbled by your kindness and generosity of spirit and all of the love you have showered on me during this. In addition, I want to especially thank all the #write31days Facebook group folks who have commented on my posts there and been concerned about me and who have been lifting me up in prayer and thought. Y'all are such treasures and I am very grateful for each of you!

Now for the apology. I have been reading all of your sweet comments and have been so touched by them, but I haven't replied to any of them in days. I want you to know that I do so appreciate that you take the time to comment and give me your input and feedback on what I've written. Life has been kinda nuts the last several days and quite honestly, this journey that I'm on has pulled me into a deeper darker place in the last week and a half on top of all the insanity of life. When that happens I often feel like I am good for absolutely nothing and have a tendency to want to just go quiet and not say anything to anyone. In other words, my depression has been kicking my butt and my head pretty good lately and I want to apologize if you've commented and I didn't reply. Please forgive my reticence. I wish I could give all of you a big hug, but since I can't, just know that I'm hugging you in my heart and sending a very heartfelt thank you to all of you. God bless you!

Day Twenty-six: Poetic Musings on Depression

Note: I have been inundated with life lately but wanted to post something related to depression to help move this series along. To that end, the following are three poems I have written at various points along this journey. They are meant to convey some of what depression feels like from the inside. They are quite dark, so if you are easily disturbed or triggered, please be cautious about reading. 

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Into Black

The darkness steals over me again
And I feel quiet in its clutches
Despair washes through my brain

Day Twenty-five: A Cord of Three Strands

Note: After having had several days of struggling to write something and posting stuff that's not part of the story itself, I am returning to the story of my journey in this entry. Just to clarify, this part takes place in September of 2013. To read the rest of the story, click here for Day One or on the 31 Days tab above to access the index for this series.

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It is September and the temperature has dropped a few degrees. The nights are cooler and the air drier even if the daytime still feels too warm for fall. The trees have begun their slow transition from greens to golds, reds, oranges, and browns and fall flavoured treats are everywhere. It has been a month since that first meeting with Pendragon in his new office and we have met every week without fail. Unlike when he was at Green Tree, we are able to meet for longer than an hour if necessary and lately, the extra time has been very much needed indeed.

Day Twenty-four (extra content) - Five Minute Friday: Dare

Note: The following is my weekly five minute long contribution to the Five Minute Friday community. For more information on Five Minute Friday and how to join in this incredible community, click here to learn more at Kate Motaung's blog Heading Home. If you want to join in the fun and link up with all of this week's FMF based on the prompt below, click here.

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~Dare~ 

 

I dared to believe that the partial hospitalisation program at Green Tree could help me one more time.
I dared to hope that it would render the same results that it had the first time almost four years ago.
I dared to hope that God would help me through it.
I dared to trust in the people who run the program and in their abilities to help me.
I dared to trust in the therapist who I spoke with when I had that awful horrible no good day.
I dared to think that the worst of it was over after speaking with her.
I dared to feel "cautiously optimistic" when I returned to the program the following morning.
I dared to believe that it would all be okay.

I was wrong. I was horribly, horribly, irrevocably wrong.

But still, I dared.
I dared to believe after the trauma of being inpatient at Pine View that I could get past my anger.
I dared to believe that I could force myself to come face to face with those who betrayed me and ignore that betrayal.
I dared to believe that I could still get everything that the partial hospitalisation program had to offer and use to for my benefit.
I dared to tell the doctor exactly how angry I was at the prospect of coming back to that place.
I dared to fight for the opportunity to return to a place where I had been betrayed just so I could prove that I was stronger than that betrayal.
I dared to come back to that program and endure the entire three weeks of it.
I dared to do all of these things in an effort to get better, to recover, to move out of the darkness.

I dared to hope that through all the writing of this painful dark journey that things might be getting better.

I was wrong and foolish to have dared.

Five Minute Friday

Day Twenty-four (a bit late): Patterns and a Fever Induced Delirium

Note: This entry is the second part of a two part entry. If you missed the first part, just click here to read it. 

The other thing I have noticed is that when I have a few days in a row like this, it either starts to lift a little bit by the third or fourth day or it gets even worse. When it gets worse, the depression increases to a solid 9 or 10 and nothing in the world seems right to me. I become pretty much non-functional, don't want to eat at all (and have gone days without eating in that state), start actively considering suicide as a possible option, and struggle to put words to what I am feeling even with Gray or Pendragon. In fact, when I get that bad, I often wind up meeting with Pendragon for a crisis appointment (I really hate that it's called that) and he has to work very hard to draw me out. It's not that I am actively trying to not talk, it's just that when the depression is so heavy that I can hardly breathe, it fights with me and tries to keep me silent. I don't know why this is, only that it is so.

Day Twenty-three (a bit late): Rating My Depression

This entry is a bit on the late side as it ought properly to have been posted on the 23rd of October, but things being what they are, it wasn't. So, here it is. I've been struggling through a bad patch of deeper depression than normal and I'm not really feeling like continuing the story at the moment, but I'm trying to write something, so here's a bit of an aside, if you will. Oh, and it's two parts, just so you know.

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For me, depression is an odd sort of creature that mutates and bends and changes from day to day. Some days, it is easier, some days more difficult, and some days are so hard that I don't want to wake up to another day. It runs the gamut. You might wonder with such a wide variety of mood how I make sense of it or see patterns in it or how Pendragon knows what to do to help me treat it or how Gray lives with me and has any sort of understanding of what is going on with me. The answer is actually quite simple.

Day Twenty-two: Old Face, New Place, Same Old Struggle

Time marches on and, unfortunately, the darkness of my depression has gotten in many ways worse. After my last meeting with Pendragon at his Green Tree office, I feel a bit less nervous about his leaving that group, although there is still a part of me that is apprehensive about how this is going to work now that he's going out on his own. One thing that helps is that he has given me his new business card and on it is his phone number and not only can I call, but I can text him! That will make it much easier to get in contact with him if I need to set up an appointment or if things get really bad and I need to talk.

Day Twenty-one: Owning My Anger

It is almost a month now since I have been home from Pine View and I just "graduated" from Green Tree's partial hospitalisation program about a week ago. Since I only got through two full days of the program when I began it before my stint at Pine View, they just restarted me from the beginning. To be honest, I wasn't sure I was going to be allowed to go back.

Day Twenty: Home Again

Yes, I am a total geek. :)

Gray turns the corner and suddenly we are driving down our street. Less than a minute later, our house comes into view with the stately oak in the front yard and the juniper tree's branches moving gently in the mid-July breeze. We have just come from a late lunch at a local Mexican restaurant and my belly is full of delicious food, but more importantly, my heart is full from time spent with Gray and our girls. It is Monday afternoon and I am home at last. After five days of unspeakable pain, I am free. It is a bright sunny day and oppressively warm for this part of July, but I am not bothered by the heat or humidity. I am free. I am home. I am home!!! Tears spring from my eyes as we pull in the driveway and I swallow several times and sniffle a little bit. Gray reaches over and squeezes my hand and we get out of the van. The girls are chattering away and are halfway up the curved sidewalk to the front door before I can get out of the van and shut my door behind me. As I walk toward the back of the van, I see that they have, as usual, left the side door open and I slide it shut and stand staring at it for a moment. It is habit for me to check behind them and shut the door, but today it does not feel like habit or something that just has to be done. Today it feels like a "welcome home, Mom!" from my girls. Everything feels like it is welcoming me home and I am glad to finally be here.

Day Nineteen: Dearest Gray

18 October 2014

Saturday

Dearest Gray,

As you know, today hasn't been the easiest of days for me and that what I'm feeling as I type this and try not to cry (not that I don't feel that I can, I just don't want to have to stop now that I've finally started to get a tissue from the bathroom and wipe my nose) is the weight of all of this that I've been writing about of late. These memories that I've been sharing with the world have been even more sharply in my dreams the last several days which, as you also know, has caused you to waken me from nightmares. I told you today that I don't want to continue this writing of this. It hurts so much and I've cried so many tears over it. I told you too that I was starting to feel something akin to hope, only to have it smashed to bits this afternoon and evening. That is the way of this disease though and why I have learned that it is an exercise in frustration and pain to tell myself that I might be getting better or that things might be changing in some way because there is something about saying it aloud (or writing it) that seems to signal an ill wind to come and knock me back down into the darkness again. Two steps forward, two steps back again. Maybe not a whole two steps back, but enough that whatever infinitesimal amount of progress I am making is so miniscule as to be completely unrecognizable to my senses. All that said, my darling, you have encouraged me and lent me your strength and I am trying. As I said, today, I am writing this for you.