Just like me, this blog is a work in progress. God seems to be writing it one word at a time. Not me. It's His voice I'm listening to. I'm just the one holding the pen. If I can help just one person, then all my years of crying out were worth it. You've got a friend and you are not alone. Maybe you can see yourself in me. READ FROM FIRST ENTRY TO LAST, IN THE REVERSE ORDER THEY APPEAR.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

The Absent Parent

It’s very hard to live with depression while having children, but I actually give them credit for saving my life when thoughts of suicide surfaced.

Phil and I used to, and still do, sleep on a loaded 357 Magnum. I asked him to move it to the closet, then take the bullets out of it, then take it out of the bedroom completely. Never, did I ever get close to using it. I never acted on the thoughts at all. I just certainly never wanted to give myself the opportunity. 

Because David and Laura were very young when I was at my worst, I knew someone had to be present at all times. It was actually because of having children that I survived.

Not only was I suffering from depression, but I also had headaches -- terrible migraines. 

Over the years I've had CT Scans, MRIs, trigger point injections, Toridal shots, many office visits, many closed doors, darkness, silence, and the usual prescription and over-the-counter drugs every other migraine sufferer has to take.  

I've celebrated New Year's Day thinking I have had a brain tumor, having to choose which hospital I’d like to use should I have to have surgery, and as recently as in 2012 I came home from the hospital on Thanksgiving Eve after having been diagnosed with a complicated migraine rather than the stroke I thought I was having when admitted.

Our neighborhood pool, where David and Laura both took swimming lessons, was within walking distance and sight of our house. So when I couldn't function, when David and Laura got older, I would send both of them to the pool, for Steve, the lifeguard, to watch, so I could lay down. 

It was a safe neighborhood and all the lifeguards were dependable. I had no qualms about sending them any time. (Note this was in the eighties and nineties—a completely different day and time.)

Notice I used the word “had” headaches instead of  “have” headaches. When Laura was ten, on my way to taking her to school and on my way to the hospital to have trigger point injections in my neck, I wrecked my car on the tenth day of a twelve-day migraine. Phil had been asking me every morning, before taking Laura to school, if I was able to “operate a motor vehicle.” (He is an attorney, you know.)   

I had been telling him no, but on this particular morning, he assured me that I could. So down one street I went, turned left down another, turned right down another, accelerating rather than slowing down, taking out a whole row of metal mailboxes, that were up by 5:00 that afternoon,  I might add. ( Kudos to the United States Postal Service!)

Luckily for me and Laura, my car was still driveable. So, on I continued, driving Laura to her school and myself to the hospital to get the trigger point injections. To say the least, this migraine got my attention.

I was prompted to play detective, keeping a food diary that revealed I was allergic to chocolate, caffeine, and vitamin E.  (The week of the wreck I had been eating Purity Triple Chocolate ice cream. It’s quite obvious why I had one.) 

I have had none of the above now for NINETEEN YEARS, and have only had one migraine since 1994. Thank you, Jesus!!!!!

Because of the panic attacks, migraines, and suffering from depression, when it came to going to the kids’ Thanksgiving and Christmas programs, the first day of every school year, field trips, ball games, voice recitals, family reunions, holidays, etc.  I was a very absent parent. Phil was always the parent who showed up.

Here's what I was thinking, that I couldn't verbalize then, you may not be able to either.

I was exhausted from doing mental calisthenics no one else could see, on an emotional roller coaster no one else could stop. I was emotionally gutted. My mind had shut down and my body was retaliating. When I stayed in bed all day, I was insulating myself from the pain and feelings of hopelessness.

I was lethargic. Every ounce of energy went into just putting one foot in front of the other. I too wish I could have done more.

To make myself take a shower was impossible--the hardest thing I had to do. It required more time, effort, and energy than I could muster.

I couldn't socialize. My eyes were turned inward. I had no interest in you or in going out.

Getting dressed required making a decision, something I could not do. What once had been so simple, I now saw so complex.

I needed you to be patient with me. I needed your strength to lean on--to be there for me time and time again until I could cope. I too doubted my future.

I didn't want you to tell me to snap out of it. The part of me that was reasonable was the very part of me that was sick. You were dealing with my brain, my mind--my feelings. You couldn't fix me like a broken arm or leg. My pain was inward--something you, nor I, could see.

Remember who I was thirty years ago is not who I am today. You have a future and you have hope. 

Hold on to this verse. This was one I found at just the right time:

"Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed,
For his compassions never fail.
They are new every  morning;
Great is your faithfulness,
I say to myself, "the Lord is my portion;
Therefore, I will wait for him."
                             Lamentations 3:22-24

2 comments:

  1. <3 love your courage in sharing your experiences and your faith journey with us. I'm gaining more and more insight into my mother's abnormal behavior for as long as I can remember. I couldn't understand how one who claimed to know and love God could behave in the way she did. As I told you before, I learned through my graduate classes that she was probably paranoid and bi-polar, or worse, but to learn of your inner turmoil helps me make sense of some of her behavior and feelings she was unable to really effectively or appropriately express. <3

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm glad I'm increasing your awareness of mental illness. That's my heart's desire. If more people understood, more people would be understanding of the people who struggle with it.

    ReplyDelete