My Little Gymnast

  So I am not a mama who is inclined to live vicariously through my kids. I have let them try out various sports to see what they like. We always made them finish the season or session even if they didn't like what they were doing, because it is important that kids learn to finish what they start. So, when Akira wanted to start gymnastics, I didn't hold hope that it would last any longer than her other activities.
  BUT, we are now in year three and she is gearing up for her first meet in a few weeks. She has had days when she is tired and doesn't want to go, but at the end of class she always tells me it was "awesome" or the "best day ever".
   It has been fun watching her progress from barley being able to do a back bend, to being able to walk the length of the gym floor while in a back bend. She has worked so hard and she almost has a perfect split on her "good" leg. She says her favourite apparatus is bars. Soft, girlie hands she has not. This girls hands are tough and full of calluses.
  If you have known me since I was wee you know that I did a bit of gymnastics as a kiddo. I don't think Akira really thought too much about it until last week when a package arrived from Grammy. when she opened it up she found my old competition leotard and track suit. She was thrilled and tried everything on right away.
  When I went to pick her up today, there she was all decked out in '80s blue looking like a little rockstar. She was so proud to be wearing my old gear. It was pretty cute. So, while I'm not going to live out some crazy Olympic dream through my little girl, I am so proud to see her working so hard and sticking to something even when it isn't easy. I love you little girl!

She still has to hit the books even after 3 hours of training! She's a trooper.

Lest We Forget

  Today is the day set aside to remember and honour those who have fought and served to give us the freedom we enjoy today. I was fortunate to be able to attend a remembrance day ceremony with my family. When I told the kids a few days ago that we would be going, the announcement was not quite met with the enthusiasm I would have liked...
  We did manage to get everyone on board and out the door on time (yay). It was heartwarming to see the Q-plex filled to capacity with people of all ages out to honour our soldiers. I think what meant the most to me was seeing the families that were out with young kids. As a parent of young, fidgety people myself, I know what a challenge it can be to come to an event that is meant to be quiet and solemn.
   I was proud to be counted among those who had little people wearing poppies and asking questions about what was going on. Simon did have to make an exit a time or two with Asher who couldn't quite make it through without being chatty (although he did manage to stay hushed for the two minutes of silence). I think it is so important that families continue to bring there kids to this ceremony and pass on to the next generation the knowledge and respect that is so deserving the brave men and women who served to keep us strong and free. So to those who may have been a bit put off by the wiggling and not so quiet whispers, be kind, be patient, and be thankful that these families care enough to bring there little ones to this event.
   I am a proud daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, and sister in law to men who have stepped up to serve. Not every member of my family was called to serve in war, but those who did returned with physical and mental scars and memories that they may not want. I am so grateful for what they did. So today, and every day remember them, lest we forget.

Another Year Older

  To say that my 36th year of life was eventful would be an understatement. I fell into the dark hole of depression. I spent weeks on the psychiatric ward learning to heal and to cope with the realities of life. I  found a new job that fits me like a glove. I discovered how deep my husbands love for me runs. I learned to enjoy every moment with my precious kids and I have learned cuddles on the couch supersede the need to vacuum the floor. And the most important event of this year for me was finding a church family that has taken me in and is helping me walk on my journey.
  I am fortunate to have been able to spend a weekend lounging in a hotel and shopping with a sweet friend. I had to laugh when I woke up this morning though, it looks like my 37th year is going to start off eventful as well. I peeked out the window only to discover snow!
  The winter wonderland didn't deter Erica and I from hitting the mall. It did however make for a very entertaining day. You would think that two Canadian girls would be prepared for the winter, right? Ha! I have no snow brush, no shovel, and I still have my summer tires on. Neither of us had gloves or winter boots either. We discovered that the men in Maine are very willing to help a girl out. We were shovelled out, pushed out, and plowed out by a few good men.
  We're now back tucked safely in the hotel, a few bucks poorer and a few bags heavier. Pizza should be arriving soon and I've got a load of tasty munchies waiting to be nibbled on. All in all it has been a fantastic day. I will return home rested and relaxed and ready to hit the ground running again.
   I am truly blessed and I am really looking forward to seeing what 37 has in store for me. It's going to be a great year!

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!

It Must Be Love

   Today marks the three year anniversary of the day that Simon and I said, "I do".  We dated for three years prior to that which puts us at six years of learning and loving. Again, this blog isn't about sob stories or drama, but I want to be real. Simon is an amazing man and I am so thankful that he decided to take a chance on me.
   I have had a rough time in the past relationships and life has not always been easy. When Simon and I began dating I was beginning my third year of nursing school. I was living with my two little munchkins in a housing complex for abused women. I was learning to support myself and my kids and figure out who I was on my own. In short, I was a hot mess.
   Simon has been patient and kind and he has put up with so much. I want to take a moment to brag on this man. Simon was a long term bachelor. He was used to a comfortable single life with the ability to come and go as he wanted and he didn't need to worry about anyone else's schedule when making plans. He willingly gave up this life to become not only to be a husband, but a father to two children who weren't biologically his.
   Simon not only stepped up to the plate, but he hit the ball out of the park. He not only said "I do" to me, but he said "I will" to a family. He has taken on school lunches, sitting up with sick kids during the night, changing dirty diapers, and settling sibling disputes with a kindness and patience that I often lack. With the birth of Asher, his biological baby, I was concerned that somehow, someway he would love Isaac and Akira just a little less. The only thing that has changed is that he now shares his heart with three instead of two.
    Finally, I want to say thank you to this man who has been by my side as I fell into a dark hole and who has held my hand as I am finding my way out the other side. Simon is my friend and my partner for life. He gave me the security to finally give myself permission to fall apart and begin to heal all the hurts of the past.
   I love him today, tomorrow and for always.