Working…

… on a new look!

Stay tuned and please be patient with our mess!

~Lindsay

This entry was posted on January 29, 2017.

My Mission

If I look like a fool to millions but help one, then it is all worth it.

 

I think it’s super easy right now to get caught up in the emotion, the frustration and the inner thoughts we all have of what is happening around us. But please, don’t forget to focus on YOUR mission; what YOU are here to do. If you feel called to a greater cause or good, please don’t hold back in your pursuits of that- whatever it may be. Remember that we are here to love, help and embrace those around us.

My mission and purpose is to serve others and advocate for mental health awareness of all kinds. My story isn’t always easy to hear or acknowledge, but I share it because I am not here for accolades or praise. I’m here on this earth to fulfill a greater calling. The quote listed above helps me remember to stay focused, even on the hardest of days when I feel like I’m being judged, shunned or looked at as if I am nothing but a fool.

Be kind to one another today. Love someone. You never know who is fighting the hardest of battles today.

~Lindsay

This entry was posted on January 29, 2017.

Midlife

Picture

~Lindsay

This entry was posted on December 29, 2016.

It is well with my soul

~Lindsay

This entry was posted on December 29, 2016.

Crushing Heartache

Learning the hard way right now to put my faith into action.

God’s got a plan.

My children, are just on loan to me until that plan is fulfilled.

Whether it’s now or years down the road, we have no choice but to cling to that.

Mason has been in the hospital, diagnoses added, questions unanswered. My heart feels like it is being ripped out. But I’m a faith-seeker. Trying to cling to hope.

~Lindsay

This entry was posted on December 29, 2016.

Journal 12/25/16

As 2016 comes to a close, I can’t help but reflect upon the things on the year that now lies behind us.
I faced mental illness, physical illness, illnesses and diagnoses of my children. I questioned and doubted my faith. I begged my own heart to stop beating, while deep inside wanting to be rescued by none other than my Father above. 
The days I walked down my own path instead of the one He had laid out before me.
The days I ignored God and chose to go my own way. 
The days I sat in a hospital room beside my ailing child and only THEN turned to God because all light seemed gone, when in reality His light was there all along, I just chose to shield it from my eyes as I tried to fix things on my own instead of trusting Him. 
The moments where I lay in a hospital bed praying to die and cursing God for letting me live another second beyond that which I wanted, instead of realizing the grace he had just bestowed upon my life in saving me- literally.
But now, my heart praises him for allowing me to live. For shielding my life from what should have been imminent death at my own hand. A mangled car, wrapped around a tree, while on fire where the onlookers and those in the cars following me that stopped “just happened to be” trauma nurses, a doctor and an ER nurse that pulled me safely from my attempt at death. 
I praise Him for doctors and teams of medical professionals that only He could have orchestrated to be in a single location to take care of my son and provide care and diagnoses that maybe we didn’t want, yet we accept God’s plan for Mason’s life. However hard that may be. 
My heart is thankful for another day to look my beautiful children in the eyes and say  “I Love You”. 
My heart rests in knowing that He has our lives in His hands. 
This doesn’t mean I won’t still slip and fall, struggle and possibly crumble at times. It doesn’t mean I won’t still question what His plans are for us. It doesn’t mean I won’t stray away. 
But I am a little more free as I reflect on the events of this past year. The trials, the blessings, the days when I thought all hope was lost, when in reality hope was standing in front of me waiting for me to acknowledge it. 
I pray that I choose the path that leads me forward. I pray that I can leave darkness and look to the Son. 
My prayer for 2017 is that I can tell my heart to beat again, let the shadows fall away and step into the light of grace. Yesterday is a closing door, I don’t live there anymore. I want to say goodbye to where I’ve been and tell my heart to beat again.
I pray my son’s chronic illnesses find stability in His time. I pray I choose God’s path as I fight to find my way out of addiction, out of this eating disorder, out of self mutilation, continue to fight against mental illness and the voices in my mind that tell me to escape. 
I hope and pray for these things so that I may bring God glory and so that one day when I reach his throne- on HIS time, I will hear the words: well done, my faithful servant. 
————————
~Lindsay

This entry was posted on December 29, 2016.

Depression Roller Coaster

For 5 days now, I’ve spent 85% of the day in bed, getting up when only I absolutely had to. Tuesday’s therapy session was rough, but I managed to come away from it and sit down to write for a long while about the positive and negative things that came out of that session. Overall, it was productive.

To back up a bit I’ve been suffering heavily the last few weeks (some would argue months). It’s hard to find a medication that works to stabilize my mood because the only (and I mean ONLY) ones that work give me chronic kidney stones. And not small ones that I can pass- ones that lead to surgery and stents and hospitalizations. So for a couple years now, we’ve been on this roller coaster of trying new meds for a few weeks, then having to switch because it doesn’t work, makes things worse or makes me hateful and it’s been a nightmare.

As far as the last few weeks, the question of whether I should be hospitalized has come up more than once. The police have been on my door step for a wellness check as concerned friends and family couldn’t find me after a suicide threat (that I honestly don’t at this point even remember making). I’ve been unstable, suicidal and undergoing one of the most invasive depression treatments possible. I have electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) every single Thursday. They put me to sleep, induce a seizure, give me drugs and try with all their might to correct the chemical imbalances within my brain so that I can live a normal life. Three years ago we started with the mildest form and now we have advanced to the most rigorous treatment they have- shocking both sides of my brain for at least 30 seconds each to try and stimulate chemical reactions in the brain the lessen depressive episodes. It works, but unfortunately the effects are very short lived which is why I need it every week.

That brings us to this week. Yesterday after my therapy session, I sent my therapist this email of the hope I felt I had discovered. How I felt about what he had said to me and the discussion we had had.

Then today I popped up out of bed ready to conquer the day. The laundry got done, dishes were done, the grocery store conquered, phone calls made that have been piling up, bills paid, errands run, went to the school for a meeting. I haven’t done that much in the last 3 weeks combined- let alone a single afternoon.

And then as the day ends, I realize this is a manic phase. I’ve gone from depressed, apathetic, unable to function to manic. And then I start to see the patterns. How I’ll gather some form of hope in therapy or from church or a friend after sinking to an all time low and then pop up to some level of excitement and zest for life thinking I can conquer the world. That is really very scary because I don’t know when the next crash will come. I try with all my might to take advantage of the mania, to enjoy it, to do what I know needs to be done but it’s so hard because I know the inevitable crash is coming and my heart breaks.

It doesn’t break for me, though. My family never knows what they’ll get, my therapist and treatment team have to adjust to the ups and down and rapid cycling. It’s scary, too, because I’m at times afraid of myself- afraid of the manic phases because I don’t know what the plummet will bring. Will it be mild depression or a week in the ICU from an overdose hoping to escape life.

Living with the constant unknown of ones own mood and personal wellbeing is hard. It’s exhausting. It’s frightening. And it feels burdensome.

I’m left stuck in my own head, fighting a battle that is exhausting and feeling hopeless as there is no cure and no medication that stabilizes me. Please know that bipolar disorder is not a choice, it is not something I would wish on my worst enemy and it ruins lives. I pray it doesn’t ruin mine or the lives of those I’m closest to. I’m doing the very best that I can.

 

~Lindsay

This entry was posted on April 27, 2016.

When Suicide Feels Like The Only Answer

 

Why do I want to die?

 

At first, I began answering the question with bad memories and haunting thoughts:

 

  • Because when I close my eyes I still felt the hands of a child molester crawling over my skin.
  • Because the only thing I learned in elementary school was that a heart could be broken and no one would notice or pay attention
  • Because, to me, the word ‘home’ meant angry voices, slamming doors
  • Because home was a reminder that I watched my daddy die
  • Because my entire life, feeling safe meant being alone
  • Because I’m bulimic
  • Because I’m an addict
  • Because of all the nights I lay broken, sobbing on the floor, begging for my mind to stop thinking and my heart to stop aching
  • Because I’m a murderer
  • Because dragging a blade across my skin and watching it bleed means that it doesn’t only hurt on the 
inside
  • Because I believed in dreams that didn’t believe in me
  • Because it takes a handful of pills to sleep through the night and 
another handful to face the day
  • Because I have more doctors than I have friends
  • Because I am done trying to cope with the hurt, and make sense of the 
senseless
  • Because I have screwed up relationships
  • Because I can’t watch my son suffer
  • Because I am a liar
  • Because everything, absolutely everything, hurts



.
  • Because PTSD keeps me from being able to work and support my family
  • Because I constantly fail
  • Because my body is failing me; medically speaking

 

 

When I look deeper, all of this is an outline of all the things that I wished had never happened to me- the events that were beyond my control, the 
events that I lacked the capacity to control, and even the events where 
having control is what made them so painful.

 It’s a wish list of things I want to change. And from a broader scope, it is a list of things I feel I am incapable of changing.

 

But the truth is, these things have all changed. In fact, my entire life 
has always been one changing event after another. The one thing 
that has not changed was me, stuck firm at the bottom of emotion, 
pain, despair, and hopelessness. All the while life moved on, transforming from one scene to another leaving me with a broken heart and a broken mind. And because I had never allowed myself to change with it, I am not only left living in the past, the past is left living in me.

 

I want to end my life because I had spent the greater part of my childhood 
as a victim of abuse.

But, I’m not being held down by those hands anymore.

 

I want to end my life because elementary school was more about survival than it was about learning.

But I’m older now.

 

I want to end my life because I grew up in a house filled with mood swings 
and violent outbursts.

But I’m not that little girl hiding under the covers 
anymore.

 

I want to end my life because my brain haunts me, fear controls me, and my illness overtakes me.

 

In the end I realize that it isn’t my life that needs to change; it is me 
that needs to change. And if that is my answer, if that is the truth behind why 
I attempted suicide and why I still want to die, then it isn’t my past that is haunting me, it is how I see my past that haunts me. It is how I allow my past to affect me in the present.

 

This is what I need to work on. If I want my future to be different then I need to be different.

 I spend so much time trying 
to help other people understand me that I never take the time to understand myself. When doctors, family, and friends ask me questions, especially why I am suicidal, I unconsciously look for the answers that would justify why I feel this way. It is as if I am trying to convince them that if they had experienced the same things, or if they felt the same way I do, then they would be suicidal too.

 

I go back and read all of this and think that this is all pathetic. “Suck it up”, I say to myself. People have it so much worse. You are a crybaby. You just want attention.

 

Then I realize, what I’ve written here doesn’t even begin to explain the bipolar, anxiety, eating disorder, PTSD, the pain. It doesn’t explain the constant inner turmoil and fear that plagues me and buries me in my covers of darkness, hiding from the world. It doesn’t even scratch the surface of how I feel- because putting that into words is impossible.

 

And that is why suicide feels like the only answer.

~Lindsay

This entry was posted on December 14, 2015.

Let them see my cape

We all fight battles. I fight anxiety, depression, bipolar and more. Some days I’m happy and loving and warm. Other days I’m distant, detached and cold.

My children are now old enough to verbalize that they notice when mommy is “mean” or “grumpy”. That breaks my heart.

They know mommy wrote a book about how hard life can be sometimes. They know when mommy gets sick(er), she goes to a different hospital than most other people.

See, my children have been on the psych ward to visit their mom. They’ve witnessed breakdowns, and mommy disappearing for days unexpectedly without telling them goodbye.

They know mommy gets sad sometimes and that means she sleeps a lot or doesn’t play with them as much.

But they also know that when mommy feels ok, she snuggles and cuddles and sings them to sleep at night.

They know that no matter what, mommy is there for every game, concert, conference and doctor appointment.

I hope they know how much I love them. I hope they learn that mental illness is something to treat with respect like other illnesses. I hope they never suffer like their mom.

Most of all, I hope that when they are old enough to look back on their childhood, that they will see that their mommy fought so hard to stay alive, to get treatment, to be present for them. I hope they love me and not resent me. I hope they know that they mean more to me than they could ever fathom and that every day I wake up, put on my cape and fight like hell for them.

I’m not a super hero, or a hero at all. But I wear a cape of determination just for them. I hope they see that I did everything I could to be the best mom that I could be.

I hope they see the real me.

~Lindsay

This entry was posted on December 7, 2015.