The depression has been dark. Hubby has been kind. Yesterday was one in a series of days that he took care of me both physically and emotionally. In the quiet darkness of our bedroom, I lean into his arms. I whisper thank you for taking care of me today. He brushes hair from my face, leans into my ear and whispers back the last words I heard before sleep came, "You're worth taking care of."
Words he repeated again by mornings light, just to make sure that I had heard them. I shake my head, I don't understand. But I am grateful that he does. I'm worth the effort, even though sometimes it is great.
Showing posts with label comfort. Show all posts
Showing posts with label comfort. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Monday, December 17, 2012
What I learned from helping my son
My baby has been struggling. For several months he has randomly started crying and telling me he is sad. Recently it is becoming more and more frequent. He never knows why he is sad or what is causing him to go from laughing to crying in a matter of minutes. As the girl who did deal with childhood depression, I worry. The other day he climbed in my lap, stroked my hair and said, "Mamma, I'm just sad."
I have no answers or cures for him. But I happen to be struggling with the same thing currently so I hugged him tightly and told him that I get sad for no reason sometimes too. I grabbed my Bible that I had been reading before he came in and read Philippians 4:4-8 to him.
I have no answers or cures for him. But I happen to be struggling with the same thing currently so I hugged him tightly and told him that I get sad for no reason sometimes too. I grabbed my Bible that I had been reading before he came in and read Philippians 4:4-8 to him.
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!
We can choose to have joy.
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.
God is near us, Baby.
Do not be anxious about anything,
That means we aren't supposed to worry.
but in everything, by prayer and petition,
with thanksgiving, present your request to God.
And the peace of God which transcends all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
That means that God gives us peace in our hearts that is bigger than our brains can understand.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true,
whatever is noble,
whatever is right,
whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely
whatever is admirable
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy
think on these things.
Baby, that means that God wants us to spend our time thinking about the things
in our lives that we are thankful for, for the blessings He gives us, and every good thing.
Tell me something you are thankful for, something that makes you smile. "I don't know, Mamma. I can't think of anything." Well, I can tell you something that makes me smile. You make me smile. I'm thankful for you. Now it is your turn.
You.
Coffee in my Christmas mug.
My monkeys.
That our heater works.
Playing with my friends at recess.
Hugs and kisses.
Brothers.
The conversation continued for several minutes. And then his sweet voice says, "Mamma, I still feel sad." I know, Baby. We will still get sad sometimes. What we need to do is hold on to those things we are thankful for, those things that make us smile, until the sadness passes. And at some point the sadness will pass. Hold on to those good things until the sadness passes.
I don't know how long it will be until my sadness passes, but I will continue to greet the day with intentional thankfulness until the sadness passes. I will continue to hold on to the things that are true, noble, worthy of praise and trust that God is indeed near and that He will indeed guard my heart and mind with His peace.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
bread, sex and other random thoughts
Random weekend thoughts......
I must bake bread. My current emotional survival depends on rising dough, punching it down, kneading it and the smell of fresh baked bread filling my house! I have flour and yeast. I need the comfort that bread making brings. Not really sure why, but I do. Life has been going great and I have also felt the tug of depression. I can't even begin to figure it out. I'm on top of the world with tears hiding behind my eyes. I wonder once it is made if I will eat the bread or gift it away like I usually do. Maybe both?
I had a moment of progress. I was goofing around and made a sucked in face pose (how does one actually describe the face you make?????) and when I did my collar bone stuck out big time. I instantly longed for that body again and just as quickly as I longed for it I thought how much fun sex is with a healthy body. I actually ENJOY when my husband touches me now. I actually desire and look forward to his touch again. I can reach the peak of fulfillment again which I couldn't when I was sick.
When I was sick, I dreaded his amorous attentions. It hurt my bones to have his hands touching my body. It didn't feel good at all. It was a chore and made me understand why some refer to it as a wifely duty. So while I was wanting that body again, I didn't want the pain again. I really like sex and I really want to keep liking sex and I can't do that with an unhealthy body.
Does that realization mean that I don't ever struggle? No, unfortunately it doesn't take away the argument in my brain or the voices that demand that I be punished. But it does put one more thing in the pro-healthy body category to help fight those voices.
Happy weekend friends and here is a beautiful thought to end on....
I must bake bread. My current emotional survival depends on rising dough, punching it down, kneading it and the smell of fresh baked bread filling my house! I have flour and yeast. I need the comfort that bread making brings. Not really sure why, but I do. Life has been going great and I have also felt the tug of depression. I can't even begin to figure it out. I'm on top of the world with tears hiding behind my eyes. I wonder once it is made if I will eat the bread or gift it away like I usually do. Maybe both?
I had a moment of progress. I was goofing around and made a sucked in face pose (how does one actually describe the face you make?????) and when I did my collar bone stuck out big time. I instantly longed for that body again and just as quickly as I longed for it I thought how much fun sex is with a healthy body. I actually ENJOY when my husband touches me now. I actually desire and look forward to his touch again. I can reach the peak of fulfillment again which I couldn't when I was sick.
When I was sick, I dreaded his amorous attentions. It hurt my bones to have his hands touching my body. It didn't feel good at all. It was a chore and made me understand why some refer to it as a wifely duty. So while I was wanting that body again, I didn't want the pain again. I really like sex and I really want to keep liking sex and I can't do that with an unhealthy body.
Does that realization mean that I don't ever struggle? No, unfortunately it doesn't take away the argument in my brain or the voices that demand that I be punished. But it does put one more thing in the pro-healthy body category to help fight those voices.
Happy weekend friends and here is a beautiful thought to end on....
Thursday, May 31, 2012
breaking the silence part 1
It has been a while. I have struggled and grown, fought and been stretched. I didn't intend to do any of those things, nor did I intend to do them alone. The budget was tight this month and the tv/internet was the least important of the bills and therefore, I had no internet and ended up growing and stretching without you, my dear friends and sounding board.
I have to say this month has been one of the hardest and one of the most rewarding. I had to come to terms with the diet talk at work. Someone mentioned the person who had taught the class about "the diet" and I know her. And the "diet" isn't a diet at all, it is a healthy living lifestyle class not a "I'm fat and need to lose 20 pounds" fad diet. Here's where I had to realize my own insanity. This class is a really helpful and informative class. Much of what it entails I had already been doing in my own efforts to live healthy (before relapse) before I even took the class. The problem with it was in my own brain. I took those healthy living steps in that class and made them into hard. fast. rules. So though I was already mostly living them, suddenly they were RULES and I would rather not eat than break them. I am the one who went too far, not the program. It was my brain not the class that distorted it into what it became for me. For most people I would recommend it in a heartbeat, just not for me or anyone else prone to eating disorder struggles.
My first three weeks at work were filled with tears. I loved what I was doing, I loved the people when I saw them in their cubicles or in the hall or mail room just not when they were all gathered together. I cried more in front of people in those three weeks than I think I have in years. I just couldn't stop the tears from coming no matter how hard I tried. I was tired. I was lonely. I didn't know where I fit in this tight knit group of people who all already know each other and have a history together and know each others stories. I tried so hard to make conversation. I would add something to a conversation and get a polite head nod and then they were back in their own little lives and the conversation went on as though I had said nothing. They weren't trying to exclude me but I felt extremely excluded.
And then there was food. Ahhhh, my old bitter enemy. Rephrase, food isn't the enemy, how I feel about it is, how I interact with it is, how I use it to avoid my feelings is the real enemy. I wasn't eating breakfast and barely eating lunch. All I could think about was how I was going to cope in this very lonely place that I now work in four days a week. Restricting was just the easy go to. It felt wonderfully terrible. I cannot think of a time before that restricting made me feel so guilty while still delivering the physical euphoria that I longed for. I knew I wasn't taking care of myself but for the life of me I couldn't remember why I needed to move forward. All I could think about was that I don't think I was really that sick EVER. It couldn't have really been that bad or I would remember why I couldn't go back to it, right?
I have one vivid memory that is the only thing I can see in my mind as proof to myself that it was worse than I ever thought it was. When I was in the hospital a very overweight woman looked at me and said, "This is what self hatred looks like, eating a weeks worth of calories in a day." I pulled up my shirt and said, "It also looks like this, eating a days worth of calories in a week." Three people in the room gasped when I lifted my shirt and showed my ribs. The face of one person in particular is etched in my mind with the reaction given at seeing my ribs. It is the only thing I have to remind myself that though maybe I couldn't see how bad it had gotten, it really was that bad.
I tried to remember the feelings but I couldn't. I couldn't remember what being sick felt like and it really did start to glorify in my mind again. Since I couldn't remember the feelings, I forced myself to remember the facts. I may not remember what it felt like to wince in pain when my kids hugged me, but I know that I did. I may not remember how my body felt when it hurt to just lay down and sleep, but I know that it did. I thought about my mom-in-law smacking me with a newspaper and telling me I'd lost too much weight. I thought about the clumps of hair that were constantly falling out. I thought about the worried and sorrowful looks Hubby would give me when he thought I wasn't looking. I thought about the look on that persons face while I was in the hospital. I thought about the friend who stopped me one day to ask how she could help because she knew of my past struggle and could see the current struggle getting worse and worse.
I never did feel it, but I forced myself to remember it, even as just black and white facts. I never did FEEL why going back to sick was bad. I just had to trust that I knew it. And that right there friends, was when I realized that I can do this recovery stuff. I couldn't feel a single reason to pursue recovery or to at minimum to hold steady enough to not relapse and yet I knew those reasons.
The next post is the kindness that I needed in the moment I needed it, the panic attack at work in front of my entire team, the words of wisdom that bring me back to you only a little shaken but not completely shattered. But for tonight, I'm tired. It's good to be back. I've missed you guys!
I have to say this month has been one of the hardest and one of the most rewarding. I had to come to terms with the diet talk at work. Someone mentioned the person who had taught the class about "the diet" and I know her. And the "diet" isn't a diet at all, it is a healthy living lifestyle class not a "I'm fat and need to lose 20 pounds" fad diet. Here's where I had to realize my own insanity. This class is a really helpful and informative class. Much of what it entails I had already been doing in my own efforts to live healthy (before relapse) before I even took the class. The problem with it was in my own brain. I took those healthy living steps in that class and made them into hard. fast. rules. So though I was already mostly living them, suddenly they were RULES and I would rather not eat than break them. I am the one who went too far, not the program. It was my brain not the class that distorted it into what it became for me. For most people I would recommend it in a heartbeat, just not for me or anyone else prone to eating disorder struggles.
My first three weeks at work were filled with tears. I loved what I was doing, I loved the people when I saw them in their cubicles or in the hall or mail room just not when they were all gathered together. I cried more in front of people in those three weeks than I think I have in years. I just couldn't stop the tears from coming no matter how hard I tried. I was tired. I was lonely. I didn't know where I fit in this tight knit group of people who all already know each other and have a history together and know each others stories. I tried so hard to make conversation. I would add something to a conversation and get a polite head nod and then they were back in their own little lives and the conversation went on as though I had said nothing. They weren't trying to exclude me but I felt extremely excluded.
And then there was food. Ahhhh, my old bitter enemy. Rephrase, food isn't the enemy, how I feel about it is, how I interact with it is, how I use it to avoid my feelings is the real enemy. I wasn't eating breakfast and barely eating lunch. All I could think about was how I was going to cope in this very lonely place that I now work in four days a week. Restricting was just the easy go to. It felt wonderfully terrible. I cannot think of a time before that restricting made me feel so guilty while still delivering the physical euphoria that I longed for. I knew I wasn't taking care of myself but for the life of me I couldn't remember why I needed to move forward. All I could think about was that I don't think I was really that sick EVER. It couldn't have really been that bad or I would remember why I couldn't go back to it, right?
I have one vivid memory that is the only thing I can see in my mind as proof to myself that it was worse than I ever thought it was. When I was in the hospital a very overweight woman looked at me and said, "This is what self hatred looks like, eating a weeks worth of calories in a day." I pulled up my shirt and said, "It also looks like this, eating a days worth of calories in a week." Three people in the room gasped when I lifted my shirt and showed my ribs. The face of one person in particular is etched in my mind with the reaction given at seeing my ribs. It is the only thing I have to remind myself that though maybe I couldn't see how bad it had gotten, it really was that bad.
I tried to remember the feelings but I couldn't. I couldn't remember what being sick felt like and it really did start to glorify in my mind again. Since I couldn't remember the feelings, I forced myself to remember the facts. I may not remember what it felt like to wince in pain when my kids hugged me, but I know that I did. I may not remember how my body felt when it hurt to just lay down and sleep, but I know that it did. I thought about my mom-in-law smacking me with a newspaper and telling me I'd lost too much weight. I thought about the clumps of hair that were constantly falling out. I thought about the worried and sorrowful looks Hubby would give me when he thought I wasn't looking. I thought about the look on that persons face while I was in the hospital. I thought about the friend who stopped me one day to ask how she could help because she knew of my past struggle and could see the current struggle getting worse and worse.
I never did feel it, but I forced myself to remember it, even as just black and white facts. I never did FEEL why going back to sick was bad. I just had to trust that I knew it. And that right there friends, was when I realized that I can do this recovery stuff. I couldn't feel a single reason to pursue recovery or to at minimum to hold steady enough to not relapse and yet I knew those reasons.
The next post is the kindness that I needed in the moment I needed it, the panic attack at work in front of my entire team, the words of wisdom that bring me back to you only a little shaken but not completely shattered. But for tonight, I'm tired. It's good to be back. I've missed you guys!
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
music therapy
The two songs ministering to my heart right now.
Safe by Phil Wickham
Everyone and their brother has sung this old hymn. I like the LeAnn Rimes version but Clay Aiken's was good too. Mostly I love the lyrics and during a time of uncertainty with a situation with my job, it is very comforting to be reminded that no matter what happens, I know who holds my future.
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