Merry Christmas all! I hope all of you were blessed with peace and joy and family this Christmas. I had two celebrations this year. A wonderful Christmas Eve with my little family at home complete with stockings and tree and Mass. Christmas Day was spent with my whole huge family made up of nine adults, 12 children and my sister's very pregnant belly. The celebration was only slightly tempered by the knowledge that my sister and her family would be leaving two days later. It was a very blessed Christmas.
Things had been going well since my last post. I was feeling more myself and was not as irritable. I was optimistic because I knew that we had gotten a Wii for Christmas for our family. We have all already enjoyed it, thought I have been quite sore. Plans were for the truck to be packed on Sunday the 26th and then they would leave early AM on the 27th. My kids and I were going to spend the day and night on the 26th and see them off pre-dawn on the 27th. Then things fell apart. I won't go into the gory details but there were meltdowns and other assorted drama that resulted in my last evening with my sister being destroyed.
My mood had already tanked a bit the day before but I attributed that to the insomnia I have been experiencing since my last medication change. Sunday night though I was not in just a low mood. The suicidal thoughts came rushing back and we barely made it home. Thank God my kids were in the car. Again, without getting into the gory details, I fell completely apart, cried so hard I could not breathe and, eventually, hurt myself. No, I did not attempt suicide.
How can I explain the state of mind that leads to hurting oneself? It was not just a matter of being sad or angry. It was a need that I could not talk myself out of. It is frustrating and scary to be of two minds. My rational mind is telling my to get over it and ignore the thoughts. At the same time this thing, this depression, this whatever it is hounds away at me overwhelming my rational mind. Still this just barely scrapes at what the experience is actually like.
And so, after learning this today, my doctor informed me that he wants me off work for another month. After some discussion of inpatient treatment he looked me in the eye and said, "I don't want to have to call (the hospital) and tell you that you cannot leave until the ambulance comes to take you there. I would much rather you be a part of that decision, so will you go?" After some discussion of my current lack of childcare support he agreed to let me put off going to the hospital until my parents are able to care for my kids with the understanding that if I get to the point of hurting myself again that I will go straight to the hospital, by ambulance if necessary.
How do I feel about this? I really don't know. Part of me yearns to go and get my mind back under control. Part of me is terrified of being in the "loony bin," even voluntarily. Part of me hates the thought of leaving my babies. Part of me feels lazy and selfish. Part of me is scared it won't work.
So that is how my week has been. I will try to keep up the blog between now and when I go in.
God Bless all who read this.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Been Busy
Man, I am the worst blogger. Three days with no posts.
The last few days have been busy and good. Got all my Christmas wrapping done. Celebrated my niece's First Holy Communion. Had a fascinating theological discussion. No suicidal thoughts. No sitting crying and overwhelmed. I think the docs finally got the meds right.
I love and hate that fact at the same time. I hate that I need medication, and psychological medication at that. At the same time, the fact that the medication has worked so well reinforces for me that my problem has been a physical malfunction, like a broken leg, that needed to reset and given time to heal.
I am really looking forward to Christmas now. It took me a long time this year to get into the spirit but I'm there now and I can't wait. The kids are being impossibly good about the tree and the gifts. It makes me think maybe I'm not as bad a mama as I had thought I was. Even typing that makes my chest tighten. I am not sure yet whether it is because I believe it or because i am not sure of it. I am a control freak so that not knowing annoys the crap out of me but I am getting better at accepting such things.
An email came in today that worries me very much. it is a proposal from one of my vendors at work for my favorite part of my job. I am very concerned as to what this means. It could mean my boss is planning on terminating me upon my return in January. It could mean she is planning on taking some of my duties off my desk to reduce my stress. The latter, in and of itself is not a bad thing, but the part of my job this proposal would remove from my desk is the only part of my job that is worthwhile. The rest of my job is really just make work. My clients could do it easily. Yes it would be more expensive to do it themselves, but, really, my duties are not vital. My job hasn't always been worthless but a change that occurred this past July has basically made my regular duties rather pointless.
My retirees, however, that would be taken away by this proposal, are precious to me. I go to their homes and get to know them and help through various troubling times. Sometimes I am just there to talk to when they are alone and worried. It would be devastating to me to lose them.
And as I type that I realize how petrified I am to return to work at all. I am hoping that feeling wears off before January. I am hoping I will start to get antsy staying at home. We shall see I guess.
I will give the last few days solid 7's. We're not at 10 yet which would mean that I feel back to my old self. I still have that feeling like the world isn't quite real. The paranoia also isn't gone yet. But two weeks ago I never would have believed I could have improved this much in just 2 weeks. I attribute the improvement to the medicine, yes, but more so to the prayers of my family and loved ones.
I'm nervous about my shrink appointment tomorrow to i will only expect a 6 so I can hopefully be pleasantly surprised.
God Bless all who read this.
The last few days have been busy and good. Got all my Christmas wrapping done. Celebrated my niece's First Holy Communion. Had a fascinating theological discussion. No suicidal thoughts. No sitting crying and overwhelmed. I think the docs finally got the meds right.
I love and hate that fact at the same time. I hate that I need medication, and psychological medication at that. At the same time, the fact that the medication has worked so well reinforces for me that my problem has been a physical malfunction, like a broken leg, that needed to reset and given time to heal.
I am really looking forward to Christmas now. It took me a long time this year to get into the spirit but I'm there now and I can't wait. The kids are being impossibly good about the tree and the gifts. It makes me think maybe I'm not as bad a mama as I had thought I was. Even typing that makes my chest tighten. I am not sure yet whether it is because I believe it or because i am not sure of it. I am a control freak so that not knowing annoys the crap out of me but I am getting better at accepting such things.
An email came in today that worries me very much. it is a proposal from one of my vendors at work for my favorite part of my job. I am very concerned as to what this means. It could mean my boss is planning on terminating me upon my return in January. It could mean she is planning on taking some of my duties off my desk to reduce my stress. The latter, in and of itself is not a bad thing, but the part of my job this proposal would remove from my desk is the only part of my job that is worthwhile. The rest of my job is really just make work. My clients could do it easily. Yes it would be more expensive to do it themselves, but, really, my duties are not vital. My job hasn't always been worthless but a change that occurred this past July has basically made my regular duties rather pointless.
My retirees, however, that would be taken away by this proposal, are precious to me. I go to their homes and get to know them and help through various troubling times. Sometimes I am just there to talk to when they are alone and worried. It would be devastating to me to lose them.
And as I type that I realize how petrified I am to return to work at all. I am hoping that feeling wears off before January. I am hoping I will start to get antsy staying at home. We shall see I guess.
I will give the last few days solid 7's. We're not at 10 yet which would mean that I feel back to my old self. I still have that feeling like the world isn't quite real. The paranoia also isn't gone yet. But two weeks ago I never would have believed I could have improved this much in just 2 weeks. I attribute the improvement to the medicine, yes, but more so to the prayers of my family and loved ones.
I'm nervous about my shrink appointment tomorrow to i will only expect a 6 so I can hopefully be pleasantly surprised.
God Bless all who read this.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Good Day
Today I would give a 7. I haven't felt that much myself in such a long time. And I was working my TAIL off!
I spent the day in the presence of one of my favorite people in the world: my dear, wonderful sister, Cathy. She is moving and will be renting out the house she has here in CA. We spent the day cleaning and moving and fixing. But mostly we spent the day laughing and crying. I love my sister and I am going to miss her desperately. I am tempted to stow away when she leaves in a little over a week.
Then I spent the evening watching 6 of her kids and my three so she could get some other stuff done. A week ago the thought of such a situation would have made me cry. I offered to do it today without a second thought. And we had a great time. I played Casino with a three year old. That right there is a lesson in patience!
And then I fell on the way out my parents' door! Why is it that I suddenly cannot walk? This is my third fall since Thanksgiving. Seriously, I'm not even chewing gum or anything. Oh well. After the work at Cathy's I'm not going to be able to move tomorrow anyway :-)
So today was good. I am hoping for another good day tomorrow. Let's predict a 6.
God Bless all who read this.
I spent the day in the presence of one of my favorite people in the world: my dear, wonderful sister, Cathy. She is moving and will be renting out the house she has here in CA. We spent the day cleaning and moving and fixing. But mostly we spent the day laughing and crying. I love my sister and I am going to miss her desperately. I am tempted to stow away when she leaves in a little over a week.
Then I spent the evening watching 6 of her kids and my three so she could get some other stuff done. A week ago the thought of such a situation would have made me cry. I offered to do it today without a second thought. And we had a great time. I played Casino with a three year old. That right there is a lesson in patience!
And then I fell on the way out my parents' door! Why is it that I suddenly cannot walk? This is my third fall since Thanksgiving. Seriously, I'm not even chewing gum or anything. Oh well. After the work at Cathy's I'm not going to be able to move tomorrow anyway :-)
So today was good. I am hoping for another good day tomorrow. Let's predict a 6.
God Bless all who read this.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Happy Birthday Papa
Today was a busy good day. Shopping and cooking and snuggling and playing games. Some laughing and crying too. No suicidal thoughts.
I'll give it a 6.
Hoping for another 6 tomorrow.
God Bless all who read this.
I'll give it a 6.
Hoping for another 6 tomorrow.
God Bless all who read this.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
History
I am going to start this history at my loss of Adrian. There were a few incidents earlier in my life but nothing I would consider clinical depression so I see no point in dredging it up here.
After three and a half years of marriage, being told we couldn't have children without immoral intervention, me losing 65 pounds and my husband quitting smoking we finally found ourselves pregnant. No sooner had we rejoiced than I "knew" something was wrong. The next day I started bleeding heavily. That evening Adrian was born. Two days later I had to go back to work. Everyone pretty much acted like it never happened.
Later that month, my fertile signs were really obvious so we kept trying, now that we had proved the doctors wrong. A few weeks later HPTs and doctors agreed that I was pregnant again. The first few weeks were very stressful, having just lost Adrian. Once I had an early ultrasound that showed my little peanut moving and with a perfect little fluttering heart, I was blissful. My pregnancy was perfect. No morning sickness. Serious aversions and cravings but nothing difficult to deal with. No spotting. Perfect blissful pregnancy. My son was born via c-section 16 days early. I spent most of my hospital stay crying because he was in NICU for low blood sugar. I didn't know to demand to breast feed him to avoid this problem. I do not remember most of his first two weeks of life. I remember him screaming for the whole ride home. I remember freaking out about the cats and kicking them outside. I remember sitting in bed rocking my son and crying. Luckily my OB caught that I had PPD. I had no idea. He put me on medication. Once it kicked in, everything was wonderful. I loved everything about having a baby, even being pooped on. I tried to wean myself off the medicine a few times. I had gotten myself off of it completely by the time I started my new job when my son was 7 months old (I had been laid off from my job when my maternity leave ended) and I was my old self again.
When I was pregnant with my second son I found myself sitting at my desk crying all day a couple months before he was born. My OB put me on meds which resolved the issue. I stayed on the meds until several months after he was born.
Then came Susannah. My sweet precious baby girl. She was a surprise baby. She was born still 1t 17 weeks 2 days after two months of problem after problem. I did not seek medication because I felt I should grieve without trying to stifle it. I went back to work much too soon. I probably got pregnant much too soon too, but after a loss like that, the drive to be pregnant again is strong when it kicks in.
Three months after Susannah was born I became pregnant again. This was a terrible pregnancy. Not because I had morning sickness or sciatica or all the other "fun" parts of pregnancy. I could barely function. I was terrified all the time. My mother had to tell me that I needed to seek help. About 2 months into the pregnancy my OB put me back on medication. It took the worst edge off the anxiety but that is all it did. The rest of the pregnancy was like carrying a time bomb in my womb. It only got worse when I found out I was having a girl. My girls were in heaven. To the last minute I could not believe I was going to get to bring a girl home with me. Thankfully I was wrong and my precious baby girl came home with me.
Throughout all of this childbearing other things happened. I found out that my husband had a lifelong addiction about which I knew nothing. This addiction manifested itself repeatedly over the years starting with the night before Everett was born and coming back at every stressful moment along the way, including when we lost Susannah. We also fell into financial difficulties between a mortgage scam, my husband's hours being cut, my new job paying less than half what my old job paid and us tyring to spend our way out of the grief after Susannah was born. We ended up losing our home a couple of years ago.
Another aspect of my depression has come from my health. Before Susannah's pregnancy I was healthy as a horse. Even though I have been fat since I was 8 years old, I had always been very healthy. Perfect blood pressure, perfect blood work. I had allergies and mild asthma. For a kid who grew up with two smokers, I got off easy. After Susannah and Lily it was like my body had it in for me. My blood pressure was suddenly high. Suddenly I had the rheumatoid arthritis with which my mother had suffered for years and my sister had recently been diagnosed. For the first time in my life I hated myself and my body and I was scared I was going to die. I had put on much more weight with the girls than I had with the boys and it didn't come back off like it had before. Getting around and trying to keep up with the kids made my heart race. I was tired all the time. When I did get up the energy to go to the club or take a walk, I would end up feeling like i was having a heart attack.
After doing Weight Watchers again as well as some other diets, I decided that I should look into getting gastric bypass. All my doctors thought it was a wonderful idea. I dove into all the meetings and conferences and testing that is required to get approved. While i was doing that, my doctor was tyring to get my BP under control. I also found a painful spot in my leg and we discovered I have Baker's Cysts in my calves. By this time I was back on antidepressants because I was having trouble concentrating at work and I had zero patience for my children. I was within 10 pounds of my doctor's goal weight for my surgery when my insurance changed. I was actually excited because it meant I could go to my friend's surgeon. After starting the whole rigmarole to get approved through the new insurance I was informed that gastric bypass was specifically excluded and would not be covered.
The straw that broke this camel's back occurred this past October. We had found ourselves unexpectedly pregnant again. I was overjoyed to be pregnant. I had the extra bonus of the pregnancy taking away my rheumatoid arthritis pain. For the first time ever my OB had to put me on progesterone. That did not bode well. I did okay not stressing as bad as I had with Lily. Unfortunately my sweet baby boy Charlie did not stay with me. The process of losing him led to me bleeding out and almost dying.
I no longer wanted to live. I looked at my babies and realized how much better off they would be without the burden of having me as their mother.
Well, that is the basic story. It doesn't cover a great may ins and outs like guilt but at least these are the fundamentals. It makes the depression make a little more sense.
God Bless all who read this.
After three and a half years of marriage, being told we couldn't have children without immoral intervention, me losing 65 pounds and my husband quitting smoking we finally found ourselves pregnant. No sooner had we rejoiced than I "knew" something was wrong. The next day I started bleeding heavily. That evening Adrian was born. Two days later I had to go back to work. Everyone pretty much acted like it never happened.
Later that month, my fertile signs were really obvious so we kept trying, now that we had proved the doctors wrong. A few weeks later HPTs and doctors agreed that I was pregnant again. The first few weeks were very stressful, having just lost Adrian. Once I had an early ultrasound that showed my little peanut moving and with a perfect little fluttering heart, I was blissful. My pregnancy was perfect. No morning sickness. Serious aversions and cravings but nothing difficult to deal with. No spotting. Perfect blissful pregnancy. My son was born via c-section 16 days early. I spent most of my hospital stay crying because he was in NICU for low blood sugar. I didn't know to demand to breast feed him to avoid this problem. I do not remember most of his first two weeks of life. I remember him screaming for the whole ride home. I remember freaking out about the cats and kicking them outside. I remember sitting in bed rocking my son and crying. Luckily my OB caught that I had PPD. I had no idea. He put me on medication. Once it kicked in, everything was wonderful. I loved everything about having a baby, even being pooped on. I tried to wean myself off the medicine a few times. I had gotten myself off of it completely by the time I started my new job when my son was 7 months old (I had been laid off from my job when my maternity leave ended) and I was my old self again.
When I was pregnant with my second son I found myself sitting at my desk crying all day a couple months before he was born. My OB put me on meds which resolved the issue. I stayed on the meds until several months after he was born.
Then came Susannah. My sweet precious baby girl. She was a surprise baby. She was born still 1t 17 weeks 2 days after two months of problem after problem. I did not seek medication because I felt I should grieve without trying to stifle it. I went back to work much too soon. I probably got pregnant much too soon too, but after a loss like that, the drive to be pregnant again is strong when it kicks in.
Three months after Susannah was born I became pregnant again. This was a terrible pregnancy. Not because I had morning sickness or sciatica or all the other "fun" parts of pregnancy. I could barely function. I was terrified all the time. My mother had to tell me that I needed to seek help. About 2 months into the pregnancy my OB put me back on medication. It took the worst edge off the anxiety but that is all it did. The rest of the pregnancy was like carrying a time bomb in my womb. It only got worse when I found out I was having a girl. My girls were in heaven. To the last minute I could not believe I was going to get to bring a girl home with me. Thankfully I was wrong and my precious baby girl came home with me.
Throughout all of this childbearing other things happened. I found out that my husband had a lifelong addiction about which I knew nothing. This addiction manifested itself repeatedly over the years starting with the night before Everett was born and coming back at every stressful moment along the way, including when we lost Susannah. We also fell into financial difficulties between a mortgage scam, my husband's hours being cut, my new job paying less than half what my old job paid and us tyring to spend our way out of the grief after Susannah was born. We ended up losing our home a couple of years ago.
Another aspect of my depression has come from my health. Before Susannah's pregnancy I was healthy as a horse. Even though I have been fat since I was 8 years old, I had always been very healthy. Perfect blood pressure, perfect blood work. I had allergies and mild asthma. For a kid who grew up with two smokers, I got off easy. After Susannah and Lily it was like my body had it in for me. My blood pressure was suddenly high. Suddenly I had the rheumatoid arthritis with which my mother had suffered for years and my sister had recently been diagnosed. For the first time in my life I hated myself and my body and I was scared I was going to die. I had put on much more weight with the girls than I had with the boys and it didn't come back off like it had before. Getting around and trying to keep up with the kids made my heart race. I was tired all the time. When I did get up the energy to go to the club or take a walk, I would end up feeling like i was having a heart attack.
After doing Weight Watchers again as well as some other diets, I decided that I should look into getting gastric bypass. All my doctors thought it was a wonderful idea. I dove into all the meetings and conferences and testing that is required to get approved. While i was doing that, my doctor was tyring to get my BP under control. I also found a painful spot in my leg and we discovered I have Baker's Cysts in my calves. By this time I was back on antidepressants because I was having trouble concentrating at work and I had zero patience for my children. I was within 10 pounds of my doctor's goal weight for my surgery when my insurance changed. I was actually excited because it meant I could go to my friend's surgeon. After starting the whole rigmarole to get approved through the new insurance I was informed that gastric bypass was specifically excluded and would not be covered.
The straw that broke this camel's back occurred this past October. We had found ourselves unexpectedly pregnant again. I was overjoyed to be pregnant. I had the extra bonus of the pregnancy taking away my rheumatoid arthritis pain. For the first time ever my OB had to put me on progesterone. That did not bode well. I did okay not stressing as bad as I had with Lily. Unfortunately my sweet baby boy Charlie did not stay with me. The process of losing him led to me bleeding out and almost dying.
I no longer wanted to live. I looked at my babies and realized how much better off they would be without the burden of having me as their mother.
Well, that is the basic story. It doesn't cover a great may ins and outs like guilt but at least these are the fundamentals. It makes the depression make a little more sense.
God Bless all who read this.
Better and Worse
First the better: I am still hurt but I am no longer angry or concerned. Two out of three ain't bad, as they say.
Something occurred to me as I sat in my car with a sleeping Lily, no boys and nothing to read this afternoon. My friend who hurt me so cruelly is me ten years ago. Let me explain. Ten years ago I met my best friend. Her husband has Bipolar disorder. His disorder led, over a 4 or so year period to him being put on permanent disability. In the early days of his troubles, my friend and I spent a great deal of time wondering why he could just pull himself together and get over it. Neither of us had ever experienced depression of his severity before. We had been through tough times and gone through the blues, but we had never been in the deep ugly areas of depression where we no longer wanted to live. We had never truly believed the world would be better of without us. In an attempt to get him to get over himself and function, she gave him ultimatums and they spent a great deal of time fighting and in upheaval. It took years of forcing her husband back to work only to have him fall apart and end up committed that she came to understand that he was not "giving in" to his depression, it was overwhelming him and even though he desperately wanted to function "normally," he could not with the level of stress that came with his job.
What this is all leading to is that my friend genuinely believes she is right and genuinely believes I am just wallowing and not doing what I need to do. It is easy for her to judge because she has never been where I am. Add to it the fact that she has a problem with fat people in general and you get the kind of treatment I have received from her. So, I am not angry anymore, nor am I worried about some unknown stressor in her world. She just is who she is. Who I am and what I am going through are impossible for her to understand and therefore easy for her to judge. We all do that.
Now the worse: the thoughts are back. They are not as persistent and oppressive as they were, but this is the first time they've been back in about a week so it is very disappointing and worrying. Hopefully it was just momentary, from the stress that preceded them. If they come back again I am going to have to consider inpatient treatment or intensive outpatient.
I realized earlier today that I never got around to giving a history of my depression. I will try to get to that soon. I think I will find it cathartic.
Today was a 4 at best. Tomorrow is Papa's birthday so I am hoping for a 5 or even a 6.
God Bless all who read this.
Something occurred to me as I sat in my car with a sleeping Lily, no boys and nothing to read this afternoon. My friend who hurt me so cruelly is me ten years ago. Let me explain. Ten years ago I met my best friend. Her husband has Bipolar disorder. His disorder led, over a 4 or so year period to him being put on permanent disability. In the early days of his troubles, my friend and I spent a great deal of time wondering why he could just pull himself together and get over it. Neither of us had ever experienced depression of his severity before. We had been through tough times and gone through the blues, but we had never been in the deep ugly areas of depression where we no longer wanted to live. We had never truly believed the world would be better of without us. In an attempt to get him to get over himself and function, she gave him ultimatums and they spent a great deal of time fighting and in upheaval. It took years of forcing her husband back to work only to have him fall apart and end up committed that she came to understand that he was not "giving in" to his depression, it was overwhelming him and even though he desperately wanted to function "normally," he could not with the level of stress that came with his job.
What this is all leading to is that my friend genuinely believes she is right and genuinely believes I am just wallowing and not doing what I need to do. It is easy for her to judge because she has never been where I am. Add to it the fact that she has a problem with fat people in general and you get the kind of treatment I have received from her. So, I am not angry anymore, nor am I worried about some unknown stressor in her world. She just is who she is. Who I am and what I am going through are impossible for her to understand and therefore easy for her to judge. We all do that.
Now the worse: the thoughts are back. They are not as persistent and oppressive as they were, but this is the first time they've been back in about a week so it is very disappointing and worrying. Hopefully it was just momentary, from the stress that preceded them. If they come back again I am going to have to consider inpatient treatment or intensive outpatient.
I realized earlier today that I never got around to giving a history of my depression. I will try to get to that soon. I think I will find it cathartic.
Today was a 4 at best. Tomorrow is Papa's birthday so I am hoping for a 5 or even a 6.
God Bless all who read this.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Not doing so hot
If anyone read all the way through the previous vent, bless your heart.
Paranoia is a big facet of my depression.I have to daily convince myself that no one is trying to take away my children. I thought I was actually doing pretty well managing that aspect of the depression. Having someone I considered a good, reasonably close friend turn on me so cruelly brought that paranoia right to the surface. It was like poison and I HAD to get that poison out of my system.
Another enormous part of my depression is guilt. That is going to be the hardest thing for me to get over. My shrink is telling me to catch my negative thoughts and stop them by repeating to myself, "It's not fixed but it's not futile," which is a a phrase he pulled out of some things I said to him. What he doesn't seem to understand is the whole time he is telling me that I should stop the thoughts and then i will make progress all I can think is that I'm not worth the effort. If I just let myself sink into the depression and die, my husband would get my life insurance, which would solve financial issues, my parents would help him raise my kids, which would be better for them than me raising them. And no one else, including me, would ever have lay eyes or ears on the giant pathetic mess that is me.
So the last couple days I have been in physical pain and mental pain and they have been 4's that could be called 3's without great exaggeration.
I am praying for a 5 tomorrow. Pray with me if you've got a prayer to spare.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
Paranoia is a big facet of my depression.I have to daily convince myself that no one is trying to take away my children. I thought I was actually doing pretty well managing that aspect of the depression. Having someone I considered a good, reasonably close friend turn on me so cruelly brought that paranoia right to the surface. It was like poison and I HAD to get that poison out of my system.
Another enormous part of my depression is guilt. That is going to be the hardest thing for me to get over. My shrink is telling me to catch my negative thoughts and stop them by repeating to myself, "It's not fixed but it's not futile," which is a a phrase he pulled out of some things I said to him. What he doesn't seem to understand is the whole time he is telling me that I should stop the thoughts and then i will make progress all I can think is that I'm not worth the effort. If I just let myself sink into the depression and die, my husband would get my life insurance, which would solve financial issues, my parents would help him raise my kids, which would be better for them than me raising them. And no one else, including me, would ever have lay eyes or ears on the giant pathetic mess that is me.
So the last couple days I have been in physical pain and mental pain and they have been 4's that could be called 3's without great exaggeration.
I am praying for a 5 tomorrow. Pray with me if you've got a prayer to spare.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
Vent
I am angry. Hurt and angry.
I have a friend who has hardships I cannot imagine bearing. I have always thought she was a smart, funny courageous lady. She mentioned not having a lot of Christmas ornaments. Christmas is my favorite time of year. it is why I met my husband and how we got to know each other. My wedding colors were green and red. In JULY. I used to listen to Christmas music starting in July. I know hold off until at least October. One of my most cherished possessions is a brass angel ornament from my first Christmas. Each of my babies has personalized ornaments, including my heavenly babies. So, when I heard this, that she had not a lot of ornaments, I got an idea. Now I know she does not want her Christmas focused on Santa and commercialism so i made sure the ornaments I chose were religious in nature.
This, to me, is not a big deal. I enjoy giving Christmas gifts, especially meaningful ones. If I could make she and her family smile....awesome. She's not the only random person I have given things to in my life or even this Christmas. Apparently, I was wrong.
You see, apparently I am a public attention whore. Apparently I am desperately needy and seeking her approval as well as the approval of my other online friends. Apparently in her opinion I need to seek help off line and not seek the approval "of men."
Funny, I could have sworn that I am in the middle of a severe bout of depression to the point I can't even work and spend a great deal of time considering suicide. I also could have sworn that, even though I have qualms with the entire profession, I am going to a psychologist and having my meds adjusted. After months, no years, of just letting the depression grow and deepen I am finally doing what I need to do to get well before I am so far gone that I actually hurt myself.
Now, I am sure she would say that those things are all good steps but her issue is that i have chosen to both document my experiences here and ask for prayers from my online friends. I will admit that I am more open with my my online friends than most of my IRL friends. But aren't we all? Is it not easier to have online friends know you are so crazy you can't support your family than it is to talk to people you have to look in the eye? It's not like I am only sharing online and not doing what I need to do in my real life. Online is a haven where I can talk about thing about which I feel so alone only to receive message after message from people who have been where I am and made it through.
What it comes down to for me is this: she has taken advantage of this online medium for communication by acting in a way she never would "in real life." Where I and most people I know follow our standard rules of decency accountability when we are online, she knows she does not have to look me in the eye and see the pain so she can cause the pain with no consequences. I know she is a decent, intelligent, caring, if not kind, person so I know she would never say to some one's face that they are too screwed up to deal with anymore. Sure she didn't say those exact words, there was a lot of rambling about "speaking truth in love" and supporting me "just not so visibly," but when it is all added up it is the same thing.
And she is smart enough to know that she has left me with no recourse whatsoever. If I say anything about her hurtful actions publicly, I am proving her theory of me being a needy public attention whore correct. If I say nothing publicly, I prove her right just the same because, obviously, I am remaining silent so as to gain her approval and the approval of any of our mutual friends with whom she may have discussed my pathetic-ness. So she has set up a tautology. Kind of like Global Climate Change and Evolution. My life is too hard for her to deal with so she has taken the easy way out.
And you know what makes me the most irritated? Now I'm fricking worried about her. She has been a good friend. I'm not in the habit of being close to people who aren't. For her to be so flagrantly cruel at this, the hardest time I have ever experienced, makes me think something else is up with her.
So I am angry and hurt, quite justifiably, and I have to worry about her on top of it.
Okay, enough whining. Apparently I do far too much of it. I'll do a real post that gets back to the depression later.
God Bless all who read this.
I have a friend who has hardships I cannot imagine bearing. I have always thought she was a smart, funny courageous lady. She mentioned not having a lot of Christmas ornaments. Christmas is my favorite time of year. it is why I met my husband and how we got to know each other. My wedding colors were green and red. In JULY. I used to listen to Christmas music starting in July. I know hold off until at least October. One of my most cherished possessions is a brass angel ornament from my first Christmas. Each of my babies has personalized ornaments, including my heavenly babies. So, when I heard this, that she had not a lot of ornaments, I got an idea. Now I know she does not want her Christmas focused on Santa and commercialism so i made sure the ornaments I chose were religious in nature.
This, to me, is not a big deal. I enjoy giving Christmas gifts, especially meaningful ones. If I could make she and her family smile....awesome. She's not the only random person I have given things to in my life or even this Christmas. Apparently, I was wrong.
You see, apparently I am a public attention whore. Apparently I am desperately needy and seeking her approval as well as the approval of my other online friends. Apparently in her opinion I need to seek help off line and not seek the approval "of men."
Funny, I could have sworn that I am in the middle of a severe bout of depression to the point I can't even work and spend a great deal of time considering suicide. I also could have sworn that, even though I have qualms with the entire profession, I am going to a psychologist and having my meds adjusted. After months, no years, of just letting the depression grow and deepen I am finally doing what I need to do to get well before I am so far gone that I actually hurt myself.
Now, I am sure she would say that those things are all good steps but her issue is that i have chosen to both document my experiences here and ask for prayers from my online friends. I will admit that I am more open with my my online friends than most of my IRL friends. But aren't we all? Is it not easier to have online friends know you are so crazy you can't support your family than it is to talk to people you have to look in the eye? It's not like I am only sharing online and not doing what I need to do in my real life. Online is a haven where I can talk about thing about which I feel so alone only to receive message after message from people who have been where I am and made it through.
What it comes down to for me is this: she has taken advantage of this online medium for communication by acting in a way she never would "in real life." Where I and most people I know follow our standard rules of decency accountability when we are online, she knows she does not have to look me in the eye and see the pain so she can cause the pain with no consequences. I know she is a decent, intelligent, caring, if not kind, person so I know she would never say to some one's face that they are too screwed up to deal with anymore. Sure she didn't say those exact words, there was a lot of rambling about "speaking truth in love" and supporting me "just not so visibly," but when it is all added up it is the same thing.
And she is smart enough to know that she has left me with no recourse whatsoever. If I say anything about her hurtful actions publicly, I am proving her theory of me being a needy public attention whore correct. If I say nothing publicly, I prove her right just the same because, obviously, I am remaining silent so as to gain her approval and the approval of any of our mutual friends with whom she may have discussed my pathetic-ness. So she has set up a tautology. Kind of like Global Climate Change and Evolution. My life is too hard for her to deal with so she has taken the easy way out.
And you know what makes me the most irritated? Now I'm fricking worried about her. She has been a good friend. I'm not in the habit of being close to people who aren't. For her to be so flagrantly cruel at this, the hardest time I have ever experienced, makes me think something else is up with her.
So I am angry and hurt, quite justifiably, and I have to worry about her on top of it.
Okay, enough whining. Apparently I do far too much of it. I'll do a real post that gets back to the depression later.
God Bless all who read this.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Another brief one
I'll give today a 5. I wasn't in the hole I was expecting.
I am going to hope for a 6 tomorrow. We have lots of big plans for fun things so hopefully tomorrow will be a really good day.
God Bless.
I am going to hope for a 6 tomorrow. We have lots of big plans for fun things so hopefully tomorrow will be a really good day.
God Bless.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
No 6 here
Well, today was not the resounding success I was hoping for to carry me up to a 6. I will give it a five because I didn't cry as much as normal but I am very disappointed in myself.
This morning my boys had a winter reception at their school. We were to sign contracts and mingle and watch the Chinese Acrobats perform. I was really looking forward to the acrobats. But I was dreading the mingling and talking to his teacher and just generally acting like I am a happy, normal, balanced mother. The thought of it made me feel sick. But I got up and got dressed and ate breakfast. And then a I fully copped out.
My 3 y/o was not eating and so I told her if she didn't eat her protein, in this case bacon, she wouldn't get to go see the acrobats. I knew full well she wouldn't eat it. When she doesn't want to eat, she doesn't eat. And sure enough, she didn't it. And I got to stay home and send my boys to the reception with their Daddy.
I feel like the world's worst mother. This is a big event in the year and I copped out because it made me uncomfortable. How much of their lives have I missed because of this stupid depression? I barely remember my middle boy's second year and it seems I have missed all the growing they have done the last few years.
My kids are so sweet. Yet I find myself having no patience for them. Which in turn makes me feel worse which makes me have even less patience. Bah.
So, today was barely a 5. Maybe I am wrong but right now I expect tomorrow to be a 4.
God Bless all who read this.
This morning my boys had a winter reception at their school. We were to sign contracts and mingle and watch the Chinese Acrobats perform. I was really looking forward to the acrobats. But I was dreading the mingling and talking to his teacher and just generally acting like I am a happy, normal, balanced mother. The thought of it made me feel sick. But I got up and got dressed and ate breakfast. And then a I fully copped out.
My 3 y/o was not eating and so I told her if she didn't eat her protein, in this case bacon, she wouldn't get to go see the acrobats. I knew full well she wouldn't eat it. When she doesn't want to eat, she doesn't eat. And sure enough, she didn't it. And I got to stay home and send my boys to the reception with their Daddy.
I feel like the world's worst mother. This is a big event in the year and I copped out because it made me uncomfortable. How much of their lives have I missed because of this stupid depression? I barely remember my middle boy's second year and it seems I have missed all the growing they have done the last few years.
My kids are so sweet. Yet I find myself having no patience for them. Which in turn makes me feel worse which makes me have even less patience. Bah.
So, today was barely a 5. Maybe I am wrong but right now I expect tomorrow to be a 4.
God Bless all who read this.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
No post tonight
Today was the 5 I expected. I am going to hope for a 6 tomorrow.
God Bless all who read this.
God Bless all who read this.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
5 out of 4
Well, today has been a bit bipolar. I wasn't. My day was. I was expecting today to be a blah low day thus the expectation that it would be a 4 out of 10. A slap fight and a broken foot saved it and bumped it up to a 5.
I woke up late so we didn't get to get the tree today like I planned which was a bummer. Not as much of a bummer as it should have been though. Luckily I woke up and found some lovely supportive emails in my inbox.
I am still extremely irritable. My poor kids, I try to hold my temper but they seem to think that because I am here they all three should be talking to at the same time at all times. Snapping ensued.
Then the big low hit. My boss called and needed me to do a bunch of stuff for her so she can have an accounting company do part of my job while I am off. She is still very short and business-like with me. It made me cry which just made her irritated. So that was a big ugly low. I feel so guilty for the trouble I am causing her. I am very afraid she is not going to enjoy the trip to New York she is taking this week because she is going to have to be in constant contact with the office. I am one of THOSE employees and it is driving me nuts.
And it is so my fault because I have been falling apart for more than a year. I new I was falling apart but instead of asking for help I just kept fighting trying to keep it together by myself. This is true both personally and professionally.
Then I had what I thought was going to be a low be a sort of mixed blessing. My Mama broke her foot. Because of her RA and her meds every major injury is a big concern. Praise the Lord she didn't need surgery. They reset it and booted it. She can walk with the boot but will be off for a month. She is not even in a great deal of pain since she is on pain meds always anyway. So now, while I am off work for a month, my Mama is off work for a month. That right there is a blessing.
So I thought the day would end at the four I expected. Then this evening it got salvaged by candy cane reindeer and a game of Pictionary. Both were the pleasure/nightmare combo that all projects with my three kids are. But the multiple high fives that morphed into a (play) slap fight is what bumped the day up a notch. All three of my kids giggling like crazy (no pun intended) is one of my favorite sounds in the world. Everyone keeps telling me, and I keep hanging desperately onto, the fact I adore my children. I'm going to try to replay that moment in my head when I start to get down tomorrow.
I am going to predict an optimistic 5 again for tomorrow.
God Bless all who read this.
I woke up late so we didn't get to get the tree today like I planned which was a bummer. Not as much of a bummer as it should have been though. Luckily I woke up and found some lovely supportive emails in my inbox.
I am still extremely irritable. My poor kids, I try to hold my temper but they seem to think that because I am here they all three should be talking to at the same time at all times. Snapping ensued.
Then the big low hit. My boss called and needed me to do a bunch of stuff for her so she can have an accounting company do part of my job while I am off. She is still very short and business-like with me. It made me cry which just made her irritated. So that was a big ugly low. I feel so guilty for the trouble I am causing her. I am very afraid she is not going to enjoy the trip to New York she is taking this week because she is going to have to be in constant contact with the office. I am one of THOSE employees and it is driving me nuts.
And it is so my fault because I have been falling apart for more than a year. I new I was falling apart but instead of asking for help I just kept fighting trying to keep it together by myself. This is true both personally and professionally.
Then I had what I thought was going to be a low be a sort of mixed blessing. My Mama broke her foot. Because of her RA and her meds every major injury is a big concern. Praise the Lord she didn't need surgery. They reset it and booted it. She can walk with the boot but will be off for a month. She is not even in a great deal of pain since she is on pain meds always anyway. So now, while I am off work for a month, my Mama is off work for a month. That right there is a blessing.
So I thought the day would end at the four I expected. Then this evening it got salvaged by candy cane reindeer and a game of Pictionary. Both were the pleasure/nightmare combo that all projects with my three kids are. But the multiple high fives that morphed into a (play) slap fight is what bumped the day up a notch. All three of my kids giggling like crazy (no pun intended) is one of my favorite sounds in the world. Everyone keeps telling me, and I keep hanging desperately onto, the fact I adore my children. I'm going to try to replay that moment in my head when I start to get down tomorrow.
I am going to predict an optimistic 5 again for tomorrow.
God Bless all who read this.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Just 2 points
So here I am, back again. I was planning on giving you the back story to my current depressed state. But today something happened about which I am not sure how I feel.
This morning was fun. We celebrated St. Nicholas' Day by opening our Christmas pajamas. DH made an awesome breakfast but things went downhill from there. The kids were hyped up on sugar and driving me nuts. Then I had my appointment with my psychologist (aka shrink) in the early afternoon. That is where the troublesome event happened. The shrink had me take this depression inventory test. I expected to test low and find out that he should not have taken me off work and that this is all a waste of time. At the same time I was worried that exactly that would happen.
I scored two points shy of needing to go to the Behavioral Health Center and commit myself. And honestly, one of the questions was about losing one's appetite. Since I eat when I am depressed the questions was the antithesis of me. If one had been written for those who eat excessively when depressed I would have had three more points let alone the two that separated me from the "need to commit yourself" score.
That scares me. I am still largely in denial that I am really that bad off, at least in my good moments. When the suicidal thoughts overwhelm me I know I need help very badly. But on days like today where I am just sort of blah and not hysterical I really feel like I am just overreacting to the bad times. This test makes me rethink that. I was absolutely honest in answering those questions.
I don't know how I feel about this. He wants me to do a dry run at the local Behavioral Health Center. Just to see where I would go if I had an emergency. My gut reaction is no way, no thank you. But this test makes me think I need to bite the bullet and just go. He asked too if I thought I could call 911 if I was in a psychiatric emergency and couldn't get in touch with my support people. I know the answer to that is no way. I'm not sure what that says about me.
I wish I could just feel better and get over this. I'm tired of being handled.
The shrink wants me to predict how the next day will go on a scale of 1 to 10.
Prediction for tomorrow: 4
We shall see.
God Bless all who read this.
This morning was fun. We celebrated St. Nicholas' Day by opening our Christmas pajamas. DH made an awesome breakfast but things went downhill from there. The kids were hyped up on sugar and driving me nuts. Then I had my appointment with my psychologist (aka shrink) in the early afternoon. That is where the troublesome event happened. The shrink had me take this depression inventory test. I expected to test low and find out that he should not have taken me off work and that this is all a waste of time. At the same time I was worried that exactly that would happen.
I scored two points shy of needing to go to the Behavioral Health Center and commit myself. And honestly, one of the questions was about losing one's appetite. Since I eat when I am depressed the questions was the antithesis of me. If one had been written for those who eat excessively when depressed I would have had three more points let alone the two that separated me from the "need to commit yourself" score.
That scares me. I am still largely in denial that I am really that bad off, at least in my good moments. When the suicidal thoughts overwhelm me I know I need help very badly. But on days like today where I am just sort of blah and not hysterical I really feel like I am just overreacting to the bad times. This test makes me rethink that. I was absolutely honest in answering those questions.
I don't know how I feel about this. He wants me to do a dry run at the local Behavioral Health Center. Just to see where I would go if I had an emergency. My gut reaction is no way, no thank you. But this test makes me think I need to bite the bullet and just go. He asked too if I thought I could call 911 if I was in a psychiatric emergency and couldn't get in touch with my support people. I know the answer to that is no way. I'm not sure what that says about me.
I wish I could just feel better and get over this. I'm tired of being handled.
The shrink wants me to predict how the next day will go on a scale of 1 to 10.
Prediction for tomorrow: 4
We shall see.
God Bless all who read this.
A new mission
So I have vastly neglected this blog. Forgotten that it existed in all honesty. So much has happened since I last posted. I won't get into all that in this post. But I want to make an official start to this new mission of mine.
I am battling depression. That is a phrase I never thought I would use. And because I never thought I would use it, I feel very unprepared and lost and scared and lonely. I am surrounded by people who love me and want to help me and yet I feel so very alone.
That is why I decided to start blogging about my journey through depression. Journaling is supposed to be good for one's mental health. I figure blogging is the modern equivalent so here I am. And since I can attach key words to these posts, someone like me might be able to find some camaraderie while they are walking down this dark and overwhelming road.
And so, starting tomorrow I am going to attempt to blog daily about where I am in my journey and how I am feeling. Hopefully doing so will help get hold of the madness and help me see the ups and downs as they happen so maybe my shrink will be right and I will find my way out of the darkness.
God Bless all who read this.
I am battling depression. That is a phrase I never thought I would use. And because I never thought I would use it, I feel very unprepared and lost and scared and lonely. I am surrounded by people who love me and want to help me and yet I feel so very alone.
That is why I decided to start blogging about my journey through depression. Journaling is supposed to be good for one's mental health. I figure blogging is the modern equivalent so here I am. And since I can attach key words to these posts, someone like me might be able to find some camaraderie while they are walking down this dark and overwhelming road.
And so, starting tomorrow I am going to attempt to blog daily about where I am in my journey and how I am feeling. Hopefully doing so will help get hold of the madness and help me see the ups and downs as they happen so maybe my shrink will be right and I will find my way out of the darkness.
God Bless all who read this.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Feminism - bad for everyone
Feminists chap my hide. And according to them they are doing for the sake of my hide. Put in actuality they are doing for their own gratification.
Not only can I now not afford to be a stay at home mom, but the boys with whom my children will grow up are being taught that they are stupid, that strength in men is a bad thing, that competitiveness and aggression are bad but that they need not cultivate self-control. And the women they grow up with will have been taught that boys are stupid and oppressive, that they are victims of a patriarchal society, that promiscuity is synonymous with power and that their children are disposable. All of this thanks to feminists.
Men and women are different. I know this is shocking and revolutionary but I swear it is true. You can tell just by looking at us. Women tend to be shorter and softer and we have boobs and, as I call it to my daughter, "girl parts" down below. Men tend to be bigger, harder, do not have boobs and have distinctly male parts. You can even tell on a genetic level. We have different chromosomes. I know this is a surprise to you because the feminists have been telling you for years that there is no difference between men and women.
I am not feminine. I am not masculine. I am kind of a happy medium with no frills and no sports. And yet, I have two sons who like cars and sports and dinosaurs and like to crash things and wrestle. I also have a daughter who like shoes and purses and dresses. Let our boys be boys with all their rambunctious aggressiveness. Let our girls be girls with all their frills and femininity. It is okay.
Not only can I now not afford to be a stay at home mom, but the boys with whom my children will grow up are being taught that they are stupid, that strength in men is a bad thing, that competitiveness and aggression are bad but that they need not cultivate self-control. And the women they grow up with will have been taught that boys are stupid and oppressive, that they are victims of a patriarchal society, that promiscuity is synonymous with power and that their children are disposable. All of this thanks to feminists.
Men and women are different. I know this is shocking and revolutionary but I swear it is true. You can tell just by looking at us. Women tend to be shorter and softer and we have boobs and, as I call it to my daughter, "girl parts" down below. Men tend to be bigger, harder, do not have boobs and have distinctly male parts. You can even tell on a genetic level. We have different chromosomes. I know this is a surprise to you because the feminists have been telling you for years that there is no difference between men and women.
I am not feminine. I am not masculine. I am kind of a happy medium with no frills and no sports. And yet, I have two sons who like cars and sports and dinosaurs and like to crash things and wrestle. I also have a daughter who like shoes and purses and dresses. Let our boys be boys with all their rambunctious aggressiveness. Let our girls be girls with all their frills and femininity. It is okay.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
I want a baby and I can't have one.
I love babies. I have always loved babies. I was the kid who followed my cousins around when they had babies and held them as often and for as long as I was allowed. I actually wanted to be a nun but I knew I was supposed to be a Mama. Then I got married and tried and tried and tried to get pregnant. Then the doctor told me that I was not producing eggs and would not be able to have kids.
Luckily my DH and decided to ignore the docs and keep trying. And two years later we got pregnant with Adrian and we were so excited. Then we lost Adrian and we were devastated. And so began our child-bearing years. We got Guerren and then Everett. Then we got out God-planned surprise baby Susannah and suffered the most terrible loss parents ever could. Then we got to keep our Lily after the worst pregnancy I have ever had.
You see, when you have had a baby born still, pregnancy is no longer all fun and aches and anticipation. It is a nine month journey through fear after fear after worry after complication after nightmare. So Lily ended up born 10 days early via c-section because my BP skyrocketed to 190/112. They don't let you stay pregnant when your BP shoots that high.
No pregnancy is not longer a simple matter for us. It can be distinctly unhealthy for me. Not to mention, our finances aren't wonderful right now. So we can't just get pregnant because my uterus is tormenting me with phantom kicks and hormones.
But oh how I want to be pregnant again. Or, more correctly, oh how I want another baby. We decided long ago that we want four and we want the last before my husband turns 50. He turns 50 next year. Our youngest is out of diapers. Pregnancy will actually relieve my RA symptoms. And, oh, how I want another baby.
I miss nursing and changing diapers and rocking and gummy smiles and all the wonderful smells that accompany babies.
But I cannot have another baby right now. So will remember and wait.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
Luckily my DH and decided to ignore the docs and keep trying. And two years later we got pregnant with Adrian and we were so excited. Then we lost Adrian and we were devastated. And so began our child-bearing years. We got Guerren and then Everett. Then we got out God-planned surprise baby Susannah and suffered the most terrible loss parents ever could. Then we got to keep our Lily after the worst pregnancy I have ever had.
You see, when you have had a baby born still, pregnancy is no longer all fun and aches and anticipation. It is a nine month journey through fear after fear after worry after complication after nightmare. So Lily ended up born 10 days early via c-section because my BP skyrocketed to 190/112. They don't let you stay pregnant when your BP shoots that high.
No pregnancy is not longer a simple matter for us. It can be distinctly unhealthy for me. Not to mention, our finances aren't wonderful right now. So we can't just get pregnant because my uterus is tormenting me with phantom kicks and hormones.
But oh how I want to be pregnant again. Or, more correctly, oh how I want another baby. We decided long ago that we want four and we want the last before my husband turns 50. He turns 50 next year. Our youngest is out of diapers. Pregnancy will actually relieve my RA symptoms. And, oh, how I want another baby.
I miss nursing and changing diapers and rocking and gummy smiles and all the wonderful smells that accompany babies.
But I cannot have another baby right now. So will remember and wait.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
Monday, April 12, 2010
And so it begins...
I created my Facebook group last night. I decided to call it "Wash Your Hands, Change the World" after polling some friends. I like it. We have 18 members so far! I hope people invite other people to join so it can grow. Just imagine the mountains that can be moved with thousands or millions more prayers being said every day. I have to decide if I am going to suggest subjects for prayer or if I am going to have a monthly intention list. I'll have to ask my folks. I don't want to bastardize their idea.
Today is another good day. I can stand up straight today, unlike yesterday :-) I have to pay bills though. It might not remain a good day :-P
God Bless anyone you reads this.
Today is another good day. I can stand up straight today, unlike yesterday :-) I have to pay bills though. It might not remain a good day :-P
God Bless anyone you reads this.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Been a long time
I had forgotten I had started this blog. I had such good intentions.
Well, today is a good day. I can hardly move and I am stuck in the house with infectious children and yet today is a good day. For the first time in awhile I have hope for the future. I have a plan to see part of my life become what I really want it to be. That is a good feeling. Today would have been better if I had been able to go to Church.
I want to read the writings of the Church fathers. Or at least read about the writings of the Church fathers. I say that because I have tried to read the writings of Augustine (one of my favorite saints) and I am simply not smart enough to manage it :-) So if anyone reads this and knows of any good books about the Church fathers or a readable writing of a Church father, let me know.
I have two projects I want to start. One is I want to start a special, intense prayer campaign praying for my brother to come back to the Church. I want to specifically pray for St. Monica's intervention since she knows a thing or two about praying for a loved one's soul :-) Second is a project my Papa wants me to start. He wants me to spread the word to have Catholic nurses and doctors pray the Hail Mary while washing their hands. It would make them wash their hands as long as required and that amount of prayer could change the world. I think I will start a Facebook page on the subject and see what I can do with that.
Well, I could promise that I am going to post more, but since that very well may be a lie, I will say I will try.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
Well, today is a good day. I can hardly move and I am stuck in the house with infectious children and yet today is a good day. For the first time in awhile I have hope for the future. I have a plan to see part of my life become what I really want it to be. That is a good feeling. Today would have been better if I had been able to go to Church.
I want to read the writings of the Church fathers. Or at least read about the writings of the Church fathers. I say that because I have tried to read the writings of Augustine (one of my favorite saints) and I am simply not smart enough to manage it :-) So if anyone reads this and knows of any good books about the Church fathers or a readable writing of a Church father, let me know.
I have two projects I want to start. One is I want to start a special, intense prayer campaign praying for my brother to come back to the Church. I want to specifically pray for St. Monica's intervention since she knows a thing or two about praying for a loved one's soul :-) Second is a project my Papa wants me to start. He wants me to spread the word to have Catholic nurses and doctors pray the Hail Mary while washing their hands. It would make them wash their hands as long as required and that amount of prayer could change the world. I think I will start a Facebook page on the subject and see what I can do with that.
Well, I could promise that I am going to post more, but since that very well may be a lie, I will say I will try.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
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