We Told the Truth

   Since the kids were itty bitty we've always told them that being honest is more important than whatever they may have done. This concept wasn't always easy for them. Isaac hates to let anyone down, so he would resort to lying if he thought he would get into trouble. After repeatedly assuring him that the truth was far more important, he now usually picks taking the consequence of his actions over the consequences for lying.
  Akira also has her battles with honesty. She cares far less about letting people down as she cares about getting in trouble. She is an excellent tale teller and it is usually fairly easy to tell her fairy tales from the truth. She is also coming along in her journey towards honesty. She has very creative mind and Simon and I are encouraging her to express that creativity through art and writing rather than weaving elaborate tales to frame her brothers for her misadventures!
  Asher hasn't stumbled into the stage of telling tales just yet. He is all about the word "mine" and "top it mommy, top it sissy, top it Isaac". His day will come as it does with every little person.
    It began to weigh really heavy on my mind and on my heart that if telling the truth is so important, why are we weaving webs of deception at Christmas and Easter? Isaac is 8, so I don't think it would be completely unexpected if someone in his class spills the beans about Santa. What is my response? "I know we've told you how important being honest is, but we spent your life up until this point lying to you"...
   Simon and I sat down one night and had the conversation about what we were going to do. We came to the decision that we were going to tell the kids that Santa isn't real. I really didn't know how they were going to handle it. I started the conversation with a recap about telling the truth and then I told them that we hadn't been honest with them. I told them that Santa doesn't actually come around to houses on every Christmas. I told them it doesn't mean we won't celebrate and we can still go to Santa parades and even write letters to Santa if they want.
    Akira's first response was, "Will we still get the same amount of presents?" Typical Akira. Isaac wanted to know who bought the presents that said they were from Santa. Little miss was quickly done with the conversation, seemingly unaffected and ready for the next big thing. Isaac, in classic Isaac form, needs time to adjust to change and to new ideas. He needed multiple hugs and reassurance that we could talk as much as he needed to. By the next day, he too had moved on and was ready for action.
    I know there are many who will disagree with what we did, but I am happy we did it. I want to lead my kids by example, so for me, this meant coming clean about Santa. Not to worry, the kids were given strict instruction no to talk about their revelation with their friends, as not to spoil Christmas for anyone.

Out of the Shadow and into the Light

 
  I have battled dark thoughts all of my life. As I have talked about in previous posts, I am no stranger to depression nor its debilitating effects. I have spent a great deal of time trying to find joy and satisfaction in my job, my kids, and my husband. All of those things make me happy and make me laugh, but there was always a dark shadow on my heart.
  I have had experiences in relationships that made me so angry and so dead inside. My heart had turned to stone. I came to a point just before my time in the hospital that I felt unable to experience any kind of emotion. I was walking in a haze through life just trying to stay alive, until I just couldn't do it any more.
   During my stay in the hospital, my two dear neighbors Andrea and Beth came to visit bearing treats and card games. It was hard to see them the first time they visited, but it was nice to just play a game with  friendly faces and forget about where I was and why I was there for just a little while. They also brought books about escaping from the darkness where I was that were Bible based. I immediately put the books on the shelf, because I believe God had "left the building" so to speak and left me to rot on my own.
   Part of the team approach on the psychiatric ward is spiritual care. It became apparent to everyone who spent time with me that I had a spiritual conflict going on and I needed to decide if God was in my future or not. This was one aspect of my care that I was not ready to deal with prior to my discharge from the hospital.
   While I had been in the hospital, Andrea had been taking my kids to church. They seemed to enjoy it and I wanted to let them continue if they wanted to. I was not eager to return to church, so I spent several weeks making promises to the kids that we would go and then making excuses when we didn't. We had previously gone to a different church and enjoyed it, but the kids really seemed to click with Kings Valley.
   After much internal debate and struggle, I decided to bite the bullet and check out Andrea's church. I was half nervous and half on the defense on that first Sunday. I was on the look out for fake people. I was waiting for judgement and thinking, "if they knew who I was and what I have done, there is no way they would want me in here". I saw nothing but friendly faces and I was impressed by the "realness" of the pastor's message.
     Fast forward to last week's post... I have been enjoying going to church and I even had started to read my Bible a bit in the mornings, but there was still that deep sense of shame hanging over me. I really believed that this was as good as it was going to get. Little did I know what was waiting for me.
   Pastor Brent spoke on Sunday about giving to God. Of course I knew about giving financially and about giving time, and talent, etc. But like an arrow to my heart, I had the thought about handing over my sense of shame and condemnation. You see, as much as I hated the feeling of defeat and shame, I clung to it like a security blanket because it was familiar and safe. Tears of fear and excitement flooded my eyes. Could I really give this to God and feel free?
  I went to the front of the church and began to pray that the Lord would open my hands, so that I could let go of the condemnation that I was holding on to. There was no booming voice from heaven nor flashes of lightening. There was simply a sweet sense of peace and a spark of joy where there had once been only dark and hurt and fear.
  I know this doesn't mean that I won't still struggle and that there won't be days that are challenging. The difference now is that I have made a decision that I don't need to hold onto all of that crap from the past. I remind myself everyday that it isn't my burden to carry anymore. I know being a Christian brings negative thoughts immediately to the minds of many, but I hope to live my life in a way that is gracious and compassionate.
  I am still me. I still like boxing and reading and goofing off with my kids. I just have made a choice that I want to walk the rest of this life with the Lord, who will carry my pain for me. I choose eternal joy over momentary happiness. I don't want to worry any longer about being who I think other people want me to be and start living the life I was meant to live.

Walking in a Shadow

  I am so happy with where my life is right now. I have been absolutely blessed in this new job. It is fantastic having a "normal" Monday to Friday schedule. The kids are adjusting well. They weren't 100% convinced at the start when they realized I was actually leaving for work every morning. That trepidation has been quickly overturned by the reality of weekends full of family activities.
     As I said, I am so blessed at this time, so why is it that there seems to be this dark shadow that looms over these sunny days? Don't get me wrong. I do not mope around all day, nor do I spend my time wondering how I will make it through the day. No, I have come so far and I am continuing to heal every day.
   This darkness is persistent though. I will be driving along when all of a sudden, BAM! I am hit by a wave of shame about my past. I am embarrassed by where I spent my spring. I talk about breaking the stereo type of mental illness, yet I am the worst culprit. I am so ashamed of what happened. I make jokes about how I went crazy to cover my fear of what people may think about me. I worry that people will think less of me if they know that I don't have it all together; that I still see a therapist and a psychiatrist on a regular basis. What would they think if they knew I take hefty doses of anti-depressents every morning with my breakfast?
    I don't think that someone with high blood pressure would be embarrassed to go to the pharmacy to pick up his pills. Yet, every time I have to go refill my prescriptions I wonder what the pharmacy tech must be thinking. I worry that I will be labeled as "crazy". I am my own worst enemy.
   Everyone likes to talk about changing the stigma of mental illness, but can it really happen? We believe it is okay to take medications for infection and chronic diseases, but so many people are under the impression that you can change a mental illness with the power of positive thinking. This is not so!  I firmly believe that as a society we do over-label ourselves as "depressed" or "OCD" or "manic". It is a bit like the extreme overuse of antibiotics.... but that's a whole other topic for another day.
     I am even advised that I don't need to tell anyone about what has happened to me. Do we say that to people living with diabetes or heart disease? No. Do I feel like everyone that I meet needs to hear my life's story? Absolutely not. But would it feel good to live in a society where I could say, "Hey I've dealt with major depression and spent some time in the hospital" without worrying about losing friends or having employers worry that you won't be able to do the job? Yes!
    Maybe it is me and my over-concern with having to have it all together all of the time. Maybe it is my pride and not being comfortable with the fact that I lost my way for a little while. I do know this, I do not want to be defined by mental illness. I want to be able to advocate and educate. I want feel like I have permission to talk about what has happened to me without fear. I want to hold my head high when I walk into the pharmacy instead of staring at the floor and mumbling my request.
     I am changing and growing everyday and this is just another hurdle to overcome. I know that one day I will be free of the burden of my shame and I long for that day. I have an amazing husband and three beautiful babies that need me and I look forward to spending the rest of my life enjoying each day that I am given!