Why I Have Chosen to Share Our Journey

For too long we have swept the problems of mental illness underthe carpet... and hoped that they would go away. ~ Richard J. Codey

Mental illness is something most people feel ashamed of, they feel that they should be strong enough to handle it on their own. They feel embarrassed or ashamed to share, and that it's no one else's business. Some people just feel like it's a very private thing and they want to handle it quietly. That's fine if you are the kind of person that is ok with it. I however, want my struggle with my daughters mental illness as well as being diagnosed with my own depression and ptsd to be for something. I choose to share our struggle because I want others to know that they aren't weak and destined to suffer. I want to share because someday when I am on the other side of this trial looking back at it triumphantly, I want to advocate for others still in it. I don't want to go through this trial with the weight of shame, as if I had done something to deserve what I am dealing with. While some may look at it as me attention seeking, that's fine if that's what they choose to do. This is not the attention anyone wants, being second guessed is a horrible feeling especially when no one second guesses you as much as yourself.
My battle is not one that will be fought quietly behind closed doors because when I do that I feel that it sends the message that I believe mental illness should be something we are ashamed of. My daughter did nothing wrong to deserve being abandoned by just about every adult who has ever come in contact with her. My daughter did not send a signal that made her bio mom crave the meth that has damaged her brain to it's very core. I certainly did not anticipate giving my child a family of her own, and home that is forever hers just to be diagnosed with Depression and PTSD, and watch as my husband is diagnosed with Depression and severe anxiety, but I would do it again in a heartbeat because I have learned so much and I will come out on the other side of this better, and I hope that this experience gives inspiration to other families struggling as well as other moms and dads who feel like they are being crushed under the pressure of parenting.

Perfection

“None of us will become perfect in a day or a month or a year. We will not accomplish it in a lifetime, but we can begin now, starting with our more obvious weaknesses and gradually converting them into strengths.” Gordon B. Hinckley

One of the things I have learned throughout this process of becoming a therapeutic parent, is that my need for perfection has become less prominent. After being diagnosed with severe depression in August I stopped caring about what others think so much. When I did that I realized that my need to be perfect made me highly defensive against anything negative others might have to say about me, now I have reached a place where I feel much more secure in who I am. Point out my imperfections and I will probably laugh and tell you a few more, just so that you know you've missed a few. Perfection is just not possible, not for me and not for my family. I am learning that my best is just going to have to be good enough, so I'm not the perfect mom, who is really? I am a bad driver sometimes, I get nervous and feel like I have to drive according to who I am with either too fast or too slow...I will get us there, and I will get us there alive......eventually. I'm not the best cook, but once in a while something magic happens and something turns out perfect. I lose my temper, lose every lid I touch, don't fold laundry very often, my house isn't always clean (or ever sometimes) I forget things, I peel my finger nails and yes I am a little fluffy, those are just my "crazy kid burnout" pounds, I'll get rid of them eventually.  My point is that I am ok with not being perfect, and guess what that means? I am ok if you aren't perfect either, so lets get together look at pinterest and burn a recipe or crochet three arms on a sweater..because we can still be happy eating burnt cookies while wearing our 3 armed sweater.

I do my little dance on the tightrope, yeah the tight rope.

“You see, we cannot draw lines and compartments and refuse to budge beyond them. Sometimes you have to use your failures as stepping-stones to success. You have to maintain a fine balance between hope and despair.' He paused, considering what he had just said. 'Yes', he repeated. 'In the end, it's all a question of balance.” 
― Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance

Over the past few weeks we have been making the move to my mom's house, the plan is permanently so that we can help her and she can help us. This move has been a tough one, partly because when you are a family of six you accumulate a lot of stuff, partly because I am in school full time still, and a big part because when you are raising a child who has been moved, not only houses but families as well moving triggers feelings of loss and panic about what may come next. We have been dealing with that panic for one of the longest stretches of an emotional downward spiral we have experienced. We started packing about 2 months ago, so you can imagine when this cycle started. Yesterday she had a visit with her therapist and he suggested going back to the blanket boundaries until all of the boxes are out of sight in order to help her focus on a smaller more structured area....more work for me, this is exhausting because healing a traumatized child is always more work for me and I don't understand why completely because she is the one struggling, it would make sense that she should change. Now what doesn't make sense? My reasoning, that's what. I am the grown up, therefor it is my responsibility to model consistency and a regulated mood, and to add to the balancing act on the high wire....I can't react negatively to her behaviors. I know what I need to do, and sort of the why I have to do it, but it's hard and being informed only makes the understanding easier..not the doing. I am overwhelmed.

Last week I attending a "Trauma Mama" retreat from Wednesday through Sunday, it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. 25 moms (one is missing from this picture) from all over the country attended. Mom's with kids who have experienced trauma for different reasons but all have issues because of it. These were moms with different race, religion, beliefs and at different stages of healing their children, and somehow it felt like family. I have never felt understood, loved and accepted by 24 near strangers before in my life, yet these women embraced me. These faces, are the faces of the bravest most devoted and giving moms I have ever met. No one else has understood what it is like to parent a child who hates herself so much that she peels the skin off of her own body, is filled with so much pain, hurt and anger that she screams for hours (and in some cases days) because it is too much. No one else understands that in order to help our kids we have to retrain them, which means breaking old habits and building from new. How hard it is to be pouring all of our time, energy, blood, sweat and tears into a child who gives nothing but hurt in return, Or what it feels like to judged by every move you make with these kids, because what you have to do to help them heal is out of the normal realm of parenting. These women understand what it is like to love unconditionally, and to attempt like the Phoenix to raise ourselves and our children from the ashes of trauma. We are hope rising.

A Little Summer Fun

             Schools been out for awhile now and my sister in law Trish and I needed some mommy chat

time so we loaded up our kids and met up at a local splash pad. The kids had a blast! We packed a lunch and stayed for hours. We followed up with a cone from JCW's it was yummy! We love this little bunch.