The book that wasn’t written in.

The amazingly strange thing that has occurred to me lately is that: I could have had an    8-year-old child now. I’m not even sure why I’ve been thinking about it lately, except that my child’s birthday would’ve just passed.

Almost 9 years ago, I had a miscarriage. I had just turned 20. Most of my friends hadn’t even been pregnant, let alone lost a pregnancy. Certainly, none of my friends were married yet, I don’t think. I’d only been married 4 months myself.

It was a very dark time in my life. And people had many ‘helpful’ things to say…

“It’s probably better this way.”

My unspoken response, ‘Really? I’m dying inside.’

“Maybe God knew you weren’t ready.”

My unspoken response, ‘Really? God gives babies to drug dealers, addicts, and prostitutes, but I wasn’t ready, huh?’

“You shouldn’t be upset anymore.”

My unspoken response, “Well, I am. I’m heart broken. I lost my baby three weeks ago. Maybe there is something wrong with me. No. Maybe there’s something wrong with people.”

The thing is, people are sometimes well-meaning, but just stick their feet in their mouth. Other times, people put their expectations on you, trying to guilt you into behaving the way they want you to behave. The thing is though, if you’ve had a miscarriage or lost a baby, nobody gets to put a time limit on you or tell you how you should be doing…remember, words like should, need to, have to, and must are not your friends.

I still remember my first Mother’s Day…my baby would’ve only been a couple weeks old. I was so heart broken that day and I had no one to share that heart break with. That being said…here’s my second suggestion to anyone struggling with child loss: Share your heart break. Maybe not with everyone, because…let’s face it, not everyone is equipped or loving enough to handle it and be honored with your trust. They just aren’t. But there are some people, sometimes people who pop out of nowhere, almost as though to just be there for you in your struggle, who will support you. Because as hard as it feels to believe this, there are still people out there who are decent, loving people.

So, don’t isolate. Not like I did. I isolated. I got angry. I felt guilty. I was so mad at God, like, how could you, man? (especially since other people tried to bring Him in as the orchestrator of my loss. Almost like, ‘Kellie was a bad girl and this is her punishment.’ Um, what? Look above, again, please.) It was a huge blow to me and my relationships with people. And I became an island.

Islands don’t usually work out so hot.

One thing I will say, however, is that my loss and how deeply I grieved, has proven helpful in that I can relate to other women going through the same loss. I understand how difficult it can be to be around someone who is pregnant, right after you lost a baby. I understand how painful Mother’s Day can be. I know that you don’t just ‘get better’. I know that society will try to make you behave like nothing has happened. Society will want you to be back at work within the week, and you cannot/should not display your grief.

And…none of that is okay. It is not okay that mothers who miscarry don’t have a real opportunity to grieve. It is not okay that they are rushed to ‘get over it’.

But maybe that’s why I’m writing about it right now. Because we need to perpetuate change by starting it ourselves or by joining the movement.

That being said, I will be open about my experience and about my loss. I wish that someone had reached out to me so much sooner (because eventually someone did) and come alongside me. I knew there were people who had experienced miscarriage (no one my age that I knew of, but still).

This is hard. And it’s a somewhat taboo topic still, which I don’t understand considering all the other things that are now acceptable topics. But grief is hard and makes us feel vulnerable, so maybe that is part of it too. Maybe people are trying to be kind by not bringing it up, and maybe we are avoiding by never talking about it. Who knows all the facets that make this topic such a quiet one?

At any rate, if you’re going through it…don’t be an island. Nobody is that strong, and reaching out is not weakness. Admitting that you’re broken is not weakness, and don’t take on the burden of “I should be okay by now. The rest of the world is moving as though nothing even happened.” And don’t turn away from God, like I did. I didn’t mean to, but I felt so betrayed. God and I are good again. A lot went into that, and I am so sad about the time I spent away from Him (that’s another story, for another day). But God is faithful. And He gets it, even if He missed me.

I remember keeping a baby journal for my first one. After the miscarriage, I told my husband to take it away. I couldn’t bear the sight of it. So he did. He hid it up on a shelf somewhere where I couldn’t see it (I’m pretty short). But then, I found it again a few years later. I decided to make it the pic for this post. It only has about five pages filled out. And unfortunately, it has no pictures. I never had the opportunity to add any. I wish I could find one of the ultrasound pictures that I had…the last one we had was the day we found out we had miscarried. The baby was so still in my womb…

I still can’t think about it without getting choked up. Even looking at the memory book, is emotionally difficult.

If you’re going through this, I hope you feel less alone now. Because you aren’t. I won’t tell you that things will get better, even though they will, because I know you don’t really want to hear that. I didn’t.

But you aren’t alone. You aren’t.

 

Sometimes at this time of the year, we aren’t okay. And that’s okay.

This time of year is one of joy. But sometimes it isn’t.

This time of year, sometimes people feel grief more keenly than usual. Sometimes, people having felt alone, realize how un-alone they actually are. And sometimes, people having felt surrounded, now realize how alone they really are. Sometimes, people have a million Christmas cards slapped on the fridge. Sometimes, people don’t have enough food to eat. During the day, people can have smiles on their faces, while at night they’re secretly crying themselves to sleep. And sometimes, they mean all of it, the smiles, the tears…all of it.

And that’s okay.

I mean, just because Santa is coming doesn’t mean that all of our problems suddenly go away. And sometimes the very fact that we are supposed to be happy, makes us realize how unhappy we are. I don’t know.

I love this holiday season. I look forward to seeing all of my relatives and all of my brothers (because I don’t see them often). I’ve made presents and learned to knit in order to make more presents (I know, I know. Me, knitting. Weird.). I’m planning a Christmas party for my immediate family. I’m shopping for people and planning every minute detail of how their gifts will be put together, down to the favorite color of wrapping paper, to favorite kinds of chocolate. And I love every second of it. I am so excited to give presents this year. And I know how blessed I am. And I feel it.

Yet, at the same time…there’s a part of me, a part of me that I really only reveal, truly, to my husband. And that part of me is grieving. That part of me is sad. And while my smiles are genuine, so are my tears.

I guess at this point I could bust out some cliche maxim about how we should look on the positive side and we should will ourselves through any type of negative emotion we might feel. I mean, it is the Christmas season. The happiest time of the year, as the song goes.

But I’m not going to do that. In fact, I’m going to do the exact opposite of that. Because sometimes…Sometimes we need to let ourselves experience emotions. Sometimes, we need to stop making ourselves trudge through and pretend we are okay when we aren’t. When we aren’t at all.

Yet, on the other hand, I’m not going to ask those people feeling joy to temper that joy for the sake of someone else’s grief. We don’t all need to be sad. It’s okay to be happy, even when we know someone else who isn’t. And I know, especially for us women, that can be hard.

Instead, I want to encourage you, wherever you are on the spectrum, to feel whatever it is that you are feeling. Don’t pretend that you aren’t grieving, if you are. Allow yourself the freedom to be sad. But also, don’t hold back your joy because someone you know is unhappy or because you’re just accustomed to holding back. Don’t hold back joy. Come on, people.

Whatever it is that you are feeling, feel it. It’s okay.

Smile big. Let yourself cry. Mean all of it.

Your focus determines your experience

The other day, I was walking home with my son from school.

And I suppose somewhere in my brain I was pondering how some people seem to have awesome lives and some people just don’t. Then it occurred to me, that less than desirable things happen to everyone. We’ve all got stories. But some of us have this ability to focus on the good things, to remember the beautiful things that have happened.

It seems as though two children could go through the same day, both could have a conflict of some kind, and both could have a fun event at some other point in their day. Yet, one child highlights the conflict while the other highlights the great thing that happened. And then that’s what they remember from that day. One takes away the good and one takes away the bad.

I think we adults are the same way. We have the ability to focus on the beautiful. We have the ability to focus on the things we wish didn’t happen. But a lot of the time, we have the tendency of focusing on the latter.

So, my husband does the dishes one morning, but he also leaves his coffee mug out on the table. What do I focus on? The darn coffee mug. Instead of my child highlighting the fact that I took him out for fro-yo, he highlights the fact that we didn’t get to have a family movie night. And then, suddenly, we’re unhappy, we’re resentful, we’re critical, we’re depressed, we’re anxious, and insert whatever you want here.

Why do we have that tendency? Why don’t we highlight the good?

I think part of it is our brain chemistry, how our brains developed as we grew up, events that happened to us during different parts of our development, events that shaped us, etc. But the point, really, is that despite our upbringing, our socialization, our development, our experiences, we all experience good and we all experience bad.

I think I’d rather be one of the people who focuses my eyes on the good in my life, because I won’t lie, I naturally focus on the negative. I hate to admit it, but there it is. And sometimes, life is hard. So hard. And it’s easy to forget about all the beautiful things and people.

What’s great though, is that I (and you!) can retrain my mind to think in new ways. Sure, it’ll take work. But we can do it. We just have to commit to it and be intentional with it.

So, tonight, as we all get in bed, let’s try and remember all the beautiful, sweet, wonderful moments we had today. Let’s highlight the beautiful things and people we experience. Let’s appreciate them. Because gratefulness breeds joy, and we all could use more joy in our lives. The truth is that it is there–joy is there, but sometimes we abandon it.

Even if your life is extremely difficult right now, I challenge you to name three beautiful people or things in your life today.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you will overflow with hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. ~Romans 15:13   

 

Yes, this election cycle sucked. But I still have hope, and here’s why:

I’ve decided that I don’t want to see any other humans today. I don’t want to go to the store. I don’t want to go to the gym. I don’t even want to go through a drive-through.

Nope. I am not ready to engage with the world around me yet.

I assumed that Clinton would have Trump beat soundly yesterday, or rather, this morning, because that’s what all the polls said.

Let me be clear: I do not like Clinton. However, I also do not like Trump.

Both were distasteful candidates in my opinion and I have no idea how either of them became the major party nominees. Regardless, they did.

So, when I was heading home from class last night and my husband was telling me that Trump was ahead with electoral votes, I was shocked. Confused. And, while I was glad Clinton wasn’t winning, all of the sudden it dawned on me, Lord in Heaven, if Clinton isn’t winning then that means Trump is winning.

Trump. The man whose candidacy I thought was a cosmic joke. The man who I’ve thought of as a pig, on many occasion. Many words concerning Donald Trump have often run through my head; none of them complimentary.

So even though I’m glad that Clinton didn’t win last night, I’m not happy that Trump did.

Seriously, how the heck did Trump win the election?

The media has speculated that his success was fueled by people’s anger with the government. And that voting for Trump was the people’s way of saying, “Screw you! We want something different!” They’ve also speculated that it’s not because people actually like Trump, but that they just dislike Clinton more. So a vote for Trump was really just a vote against Clinton. And maybe vice-versa.

With Clinton, I feel like people knew what they would get. Trump, on the other hand, is a total wildcard. He’s like a bull in a china shop, a live grenade. We have no clue what is going to happen. And either he’s going to absolutely ruin this country or he’s actually going to do something constructive. We really have no idea.

And that terrifies me.

I have experienced a range of emotions this morning (and I did not sleep well last night, as I fell asleep before the results were in). I’ve experienced confusion (many times), surprise, sadness, deep discouragement (almost moments of depression), grief, fear (almost anxiety), and I’ve had no desire to talk to anyone other than my husband and God.

But God and I have already talked about this. Last year, in fact. Right around this time, during the primaries in Illinois.

Last year, during the primaries, I was completely distraught when Trump won Illinois. I was shocked, confused, indignant. I think I might’ve cried. I was so angry and dejected when he won in Illinois that I stopped paying attention to the rest of the state primaries. I was so disappointed with my fellow Illinoisans.

And around that time, probably the next day, I was praying about it as I drove down Perryville. I was praying and worrying to God about what in the world would happen to our country if Donald Trump won the primary and even, God no, won the election.

But God comforted me in that moment. He stopped my worry and my fear in its tracks. I felt as though He was saying, “I even have a purpose in that.”

Through my struggles this morning, He’s re-iterated that sentiment.

Yes, Trump won the election. Yes, he could be the worst president in our nation’s history. Yes, things could go from bad to worse very quickly.

However, and with God there is always a back-up plan, God still has a purpose. I don’t know what it is, but no matter what, that purpose is still in effect and it will still be fulfilled somehow.

And I will trust in Him today. I will put my hope in Him today.

Not in Trump. Not in any man or woman. But in God.

Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we will trust in the name of the Lord our God. ~Psalm 20:7

 

 

 

My journey to overcoming anxiety: Part III (2 practical applications)

So, this is probably the part of the series that everyone has been wanting me to get to, because, let’s be real, this is the info people with anxiety want.

How to overcome.

If you haven’t read the first two parts of my series you can read the first here and the second here.

So this is the first portion of my list of the actual “hows” of how I overcame anxiety. Now, remember that this is my unique experience. My journey and everybody’s journey will look different. However, I do sincerely believe that almost everything on my list could be applicable to almost anyone suffering with anxiety.

So, here’s the first portion of my list (the second portion will come in Part IV of my series):

I admitted that I had anxiety:

You cannot deal with your anxiety if you won’t admit you have it. And I know, I know, how awful it can feel to admit it. For me, with my pride about never being afraid, it was very difficult for me to admit that I had anxiety issues. Being afraid, having anxiety, being sensitive- none of those things were acceptable in my household growing up.

But my admission about my anxiety was absolutely essential to my journey of healing.

You have to admit that you are dealing with hard stuff. Whether it be anxiety, depression, grief, addiction, or whatever the case may be, it needs to be admitted. You cannot get better until you admit there is something wrong.

I got counseling:

I know. Scary.

Nobody wants to see mental health professionals. I don’t know why. I think everyone should see a counselor at some point. I just do. But then I’m a counseling student. So. I’m probably biased.

If you do decide to seek professional counseling, it may take you a couple tries to find the right fit. That is okay.

Personally, I went to a few different professional therapists. I found a few good ones that were helpful to me at each part of my journey. Through the process of counseling, I realized that I had a childhood trauma that heavily impacted my anxiety disorder.

This discovery was great, because I needed this discovery to get better. And it was awful, because now I had to work through it.

I will be honest with you, my anxiety did not get better right away. Why? Because sometimes when you are diving into the abyss of unresolved, deeply-buried issues, your body, your emotions, and your mind do not like it. Your psyche, or whatever it might be-maybe self-preservation-wants this stuff to stay hidden. But this needs to happen. You need to dig deep. However, it will probably be painful.

It’s akin to breaking a bone, it never being set back right again, but your body healing anyway. And then you’re never the same again. Then one day, this bone that’s still not right, starts bugging you so much that you go to the doctor. Then the doctor has to do surgery. Then you need painful physical therapy to set the situation right again. You have to retrain your muscles to work right. And it hurts! The whole situation sucks! But it is necessary so that you can function again.

Well, the above is just like dealing with traumas or deep-seated issues that must be dug into so that you can get better. You might cry. You might experience stress. You might get angry. Your counselor will probably give you homework to help you work through things.

Yet, that’s all okay. It’s okay for you to process. It is acceptable for you to not be okay. Because this is temporary.

I know it feels permanent, but it is not. It doesn’t have to be if you are willing dig deep and sometimes make changes (and we will get to some of those changes in Part IV. Yay!!).

If you’re brave enough, whisper it to yourself right now, “I might not be okay today, but I will be thriving some day. I will not give up.” 

In Part IV of this series I will outline several more ways I overcame anxiety. I believe a majority of them are applicable to almost anyone suffering with anxiety. I wanted to tie it all up in this one post, but this post simply would’ve been too long. I can’t wait to finish it and post it next week!

Have you suffered from anxiety? If so comment below!

And if you haven’t already, please follow me on WordPress! 

Parents, you are your kids’ biggest risk factor. Coincidentally, you’re also the biggest element going in their favor:

So basically, you (the parent) are the most influential factor in your child’s life.

I think most of you instinctually know this to be true. But if not, recognize its truth now and behave accordingly. (I’m generally pretty straightforward.)

In the counseling world, or at least in counseling school, we talk about things like risk factors and protective factors. Risk factors are, no kidding, the things that are not so bueno in a child’s life. Protective factors are, obviously, the mucho bueno things in a child’s life. (No, my textbooks do not use the word, ‘bueno’, and, yes, I paraphrased those definitions, and yes, I know ‘mucho bueno’ makes no sense.)

I read recently that, for instance, a risk factor for early childhood is poverty. It can lead to inflammation, and to mental disorders and physical ailments later in life. Not so bueno. But the great news is this, that a protective factor, like a warm, loving mother, may intervene and those risk factors can sometimes be negated by the protective factors.

Muy bueno and very, very cool.

I tell you this because as I was reading through Chapter 1 in my Lifespan and Development book, I just got so passionate, so amped up about the fact that we, parents, have a huge impact on our kids. Either we negatively impact them so that they turn into dysfunctional adults. Or we positively impact them so that they have healthy outcomes (healthy relationships, succeed in school and work, etc.).

Now, I’m not saying that parents are solely responsible for their children’s life outcomes. But I am saying that we have a BIG responsibility toward them. And parenting should be done intentionally.

I’d also like to add that our relationships, our education/skills, our jobs, our mental health, our religion–pretty much everything that we actively engage in is going to affect our children.

So, if you have the tendency of engaging in dysfunctional relationships (like jumping from one-to-the-next every so often), seriously just stop. You’re not doing your kid any favors and it’s not fair to them. The next guy/girl is not your answer. So. Just stop. I’m going to stop myself now. A-hem. Instead, engage in healthy relationships, work on creating a healthful marriage, work on bringing only healthy influences into your children’s lives. They deserve that from you, but you’ll be happier too.

Even our education can affect our children. How? Well, a woman with less than a high school diploma is going to have a very difficult time supporting herself, let alone children. Your education matters. It matters not only to you, but it matters to your kids because it has a trickle-down effect. (And strangely, a parent’s education can be indicative of what level of education their children will obtain. This isn’t always the case, but it is one indication. Check this website out if you want to learn more!) It’s not only a matter of money though. It’s a matter of critical thinking, it’s a matter of being able to teach your children, it’s a matter of being knowledgable. It affects so many things I just can’t even. So, even if you decide you’re anti-college or whatever, continue learning. Never stop educating yourself on the important stuff! Some of the smartest people I know are people who never went to college! Just never stop learning.

(Also…if you do get a good education in a field or vocation where you can make a decent amount of money, you can get out of dysfunctional relationships without worrying so much about the finances! Look at that. Just look at how that all works together.)

If you’re struggling with a mental disorder or you’re struggling to process something that can affect your children, talk to somebody about it, whether a friend or a professional. Everyone has issues that they gotta work through at some point. Let’s be real. Never be ashamed of your depression, or your anxiety, or other issues you’re working through. The best thing you can do for yourself and your kids is to get the help you need. In fact, it’s one of the bravest things you can do.

And if you’re a Christian, this all applies directly to you. In the Bible we find that we are supposed to do everything as though we’re doing it for the Lord. Our lives are supposed to bring God glory. I love it that I have a pastor that sometimes makes the point that, hey, get good at what you’re passionate about or have talent for. If you’re intelligent, use that intelligence for the Lord. If you’re musically inclined, use that music to glorify God. If you’re good at teaching, learn and get even better at it! If you love to write, become the best writer you can be. (Wow, <that all sounded really peppy.)

But seriously, be the best for God.

And then, guess what? You’ll be better for your kids. It really all works together.

What about you? What is one thing you do well as a parent? And what is one thing that you could do better? Comment below! 

(And if you haven’t yet followed my blog, please do. It’d mean the world to me ;-))

Here are a couple things that I’m doing to improve my marriage this week:

Last week, I wrote a post about one thing my husband and I were doing that was improving my marriage. This Friday, like the last, I want to write about a couple things I know I need to do to improve my marriage. Now, I get the feeling that I’m not alone in these things.

So, as my husband and I have been wading through the murky waters of communication, a few things that I’ve needed to work on have occurred to me.

1. My husband communicates love in a way that I do not get.

I just don’t get it. My husband isn’t much of a talker. For those of you who know him, you probably know that I speak the truth. And although he’s become more of a conversationalist over the past 8 years or so, talking is not always instinctual to him.

So, the other day, I was trying to explain something to him that bugged me. (I know, guys love it when their wives tell them that something about the relationship is bugging them!) And he says, “Well, I let you sleep in this morning. And I kept Savannah out of your hair. Because you’re always saying how you can’t get things done because you never have time to yourself.”

At this point, I literally asked him what that had to do with my issue. I stared at him cluelessly. He stared back with wide-eyed confusion, borderline shock. He couldn’t even find the words.

Luckily, over the course of the next few minutes, it became clear: my husband was trying to communicate his love to me through his actions.

Oh. Duh.

See, I’m a talker, a strange extroverted introvert. I’m big on words.  And sometimes, if actions are not accompanied by words when said actions are being committed, I just won’t get it.

Therefore (that’s one of my academic-paper-words), I need to start reading between the lines and listening to what his actions are telling me.

2. I kinda need to stop getting offended so easily.

So, I don’t know if anyone else out in the blogosphere ever does this, but I certainly do get offended about weird stuff.

I think something I’ve realized about myself though, is that when I get offended by little things, there is a deeper issue at work. Now, that issue may be mine alone, or it may be an unresolved issue between my spouse and myself, BUT there is a deeper issue nonetheless.

And this “being easily offended” can happen in any relationship, not just a marriage. It can happen among friends or family members or co-workers. So don’t think that if you aren’t married, you’re safe. Nope. Not safe. (I know. I’m so mean!)

So next time you find yourself offended, ask yourself if you are being too easily offended. Ask yourself: Is this really that big of a deal? Am I going to start a war over something petty? Am I taking this the wrong way? Or am I twisting someone’s words into something they were never intended to be?

The truth is that we have all been here at one time or another with someone we love.

And that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? We love these people. I love my husband. So, why am I being offended easily? Why am I not intentionally trying to understand him better?

In 1 Corinthians 13, the Bible talks about how we are to love each other. It talks about how love isn’t easily angered (offended), how it is kind, honoring, forgiving, unselfish, and perseverant. (You can check out the passage on love here.)

Sometimes in the day-to-day bustle, we grow complacent and unintentional in our relationships. We forget to love the way 1 Corinthians 13 indicates that we should.

This week, I need to work on a couple things mentioned in that passage. Maybe you do too.

So, how about you? Do you think you’re intentionally loving the people around you?  Please leave a comment below!

Also, if you haven’t already, please subscribe to get an email each time I send out a new blog post! 🙂 

 

 

 

 

 

My journey to overcoming anxiety. Part II: My trigger.

Anxiety is debilitating. It can literally make you feel ill, and unable to function.

But here’s the thing, you can get through anxiety. You can even overcome it. How do I know? Because I think I’ve done it. And if I can do it after years of debilitating anxiety, so can you!

Throughout this series, I will tell you my story, how I personally began my journey of breaking the cycle of anxiety, and hopefully, by reading it you will be given a sense of empowerment. Because that’s the issue with anxiety, isn’t it? It leaves you feeling so powerless over your own mind.

Now, I could go through each gory detail of the next few years of my life (from my last post in this series), but I don’t think I will. It’d simply take too long. But I’ll give you a simple outline.

The following were contributing factors to my generalized anxiety disorder:

1. About 9 months after I gave birth to my son, I began experiencing postpartum depression. I, being very afraid of mental illness, denied it completely. It was, of course, abundantly obvious. Unfortunately for me, I’m quite good at not be vulnerable and hiding what’s really happening inside of me-as many of us are. We are all skilled mask-creators when we feel the need to be.
2. Perhaps, PTSD (Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder). Trauma stemming from childhood was affecting me, how I viewed the world, perhaps how my very brain was even wired.
3. This past trauma was triggered by another event in which…I was trying to leaving my neighborhood one night after dark. Some little thugs decided to form a line across the street in front of my car. They started to shout at me to get out of the car. GET OUT OF THE CAR! A counselor later told me that this event probably triggered all of the mental and emotional issues stemming from my past trauma.

Now, I should probably mention at this juncture that days, literally days (maybe one), before I gave birth to my first child–there was a shooting in my neighborhood across the parking lot from my apartment complex. I walked over to the window, wondering what had happened (I didn’t grow up in neighborhoods where shootings happened), to have my husband begin shouting at me to get away from the window.

And this place, where I get shouted at to get away from the windows, is where I was bringing my son.

I had a very difficult time reconciling myself to that fact. But when you don’t have a lot and you have to fight for everything you have, sometimes you don’t have a choice about where you live.

I mention this shooting because even though I got away unharmed during the street incident, the city I live in is considered one of the most violent cities in America. And my 12-month-old son was sitting in the backseat when it happened. All of these things were in my psyche somewhere, if that makes sense. And, if I’m not very much mistaken, there was another shooting (right across from my apartment complex) not very long before I was accosted by the thugs on the street. And, of course, we had the drug dealer living across the hall from me.

But this is all okay. It’s made me who I am. It’s made me a fighter. It’s taught me to fight through fear. And I really haven’t gone through anything nearly as bad as other people I know…but this isn’t anyone else’s story. It’s mine. I have a right to feel how I do, to process, and to then, and only then, move on.

And if you’re going through something, no matter the why of it, you have a right to process and experience too.

All of the things above contributed to my anxiety. The childhood trauma, the postpartum depression, the stress of my living conditions, and then finally the trigger.

The night I was accosted, I called my husband (after I called the police) and I told my husband I was moving out of that neighborhood. Now, my husband has been through some crap and has lived in some tough neighborhoods, so to him, what happened to me wasn’t that big of a deal. But I was done. I was done with the shootings. I was done with the drug dealers across the hall. I was done worrying about my infant’s safety. I was done being afraid to go outside. I was done with that side of town.

And within a few weeks, we were moving, and I was having debilitating attacks of anxiety. These attacks were like panic attacks on steroids. They just didn’t stop. They just lasted for hours upon hours.

I started to lose hope, but I was going to be okay.

I’ll tell you about it in my next post.

 

Note: I want to point out that everyone is affected by trauma differently. Some, may walk out of a war zone affected, but somehow able to cope and move on. Some, can actually be traumatized by verbal abuse. Everyone, because of the different physiology, pre-conditions, developmental stages, and psychological health, is different, and experiences and copes with events differently as well. And that’s okay. 

 

Have you ever experienced anxiety or panic attacks? Comment below! (Hey, I told you some of my story; you can tell me some of yours! 🙂 )

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My journey to overcoming anxiety. Part I: My story

When I was 18, or maybe I’d just turned 19, I worked two jobs, paid all my bills (minus rent because I still lived at home) I was in college, I was interning at the public defenders’ office, one of my best friends had just left for tour in Iraq, and I was trying to write a book. (You might say I’ve always been a slightly driven individual.)

And that’s when it started: these terrible, paralyzing anxiety attacks. I couldn’t breathe. Terrible bouts of anxiety that inflicted much emotional, mental, and even physical pain. And they just didn’t end. They went on and on and on. They seemed absolutely inescapable. They terrified me. I didn’t understand them.

They almost devoured me.

At the time, I had no idea what anxiety was. I didn’t know what a generalized anxiety disorder was. I certainly hadn’t heard of PTSD. I was a girl who prided myself on marching into situations with little regard for fear. I could be nervous, even afraid, but that angst would be ignored. If fear was a door, I was the girl who would kick it in.

At least, that’s the girl I thought I was.

But then…anxiety attacked.

My anxiety was so absolutely paralyzing that I had to quit one of my jobs (although, really, that employer was just ick. You know what I mean.). I muddled through my classes (luckily, since I’d been working hard all semester, my grades didn’t suffer), and I withdrew from some social activity. Although when I look back, I finished my internship and I finished my semester and I kept one of my jobs and I did end up self-publishing my book. So, even though I was suffering, and I would suffer for hours and sometimes a full day at a time, I forced myself to push through.

During my worst hours, I’d be alone, in solitude riddled with anxiety so intense I’d shake, rock, sit huddled on the sofa, or I wouldn’t even move. I probably looked as though I was in intense physical pain. And I was. In my better moments, when I was still suffering but not so badly, I finished out my semester. I went to work. I did the things that needed to be done.

But I had a major anxiety issue on the rise. And it seemed like NOBODY understood it. Nobody even really knew what it was. I certainly didn’t.

Some people seemed to have an attitude of: What’s your deal? Everybody has stress. Get over it. While, others had a more compassionate approach: It’s all right. Everyone goes through hard periods of time. You’ll be okay.

But that was the thing, I told myself I’d be okay too. But I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it when I whispered it to myself. And I didn’t believe it when other people told me I would be either. How could I? None of us had a clue what was even going on. And I don’t think most people understood the severity of my disorder.

I also told myself to get over it. I judged myself. I was ashamed of myself for having such a weakness as this strange, debilitating, overwhelming emotional/mental issue. And I wasn’t okay with it. I wasn’t okay with me having this problem.

So, I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to brush it under the rug. As if by so doing, I could make it go away. Because the truth was…it was far too big for me to handle alone.

God, what a lonely, frightening time that was for me. And it was far from over.

I have learned over the past 9 years that anxiety is not something to be ignored. Yet, it’s also definitely not something to be bowed to.

If you have anxiety, don’t give up. There is hope. I know.

I’ll give you more of my story in Part II of this series, in which I’m writing about anxiety and my journey through it. And hopefully, if you are struggling through anxiety, I will have some encouragement and some advice to help you get through.

 

Have you ever experienced anxiety, panic attacks, or debilitating anxiety? If so, if you feel comfortable, because it’s oh so personal, leave me a note below. Even a short one that maybe just says “Yes.” I’d love to at least say a prayer over you.  

 

 

Here’s one of the things I love about kids:

I don’t know about any of you other moms out there, but there are days (like today!) where I catch myself snapping at my kids or even, cringe, rolling my eyes when I get annoyed about something.

Certain things did not go my way today. So, I got disappointed. And apparently when Kellie’s disappointed she gets irritated quickly. Then throw in your little boy knocking your daughter over and then running away from said toddler at the speed of light…well, there may or may not have been shouting. (Of course, part of that volume was because my toddler was screaming at the tippy-top of her lungs, for like a really long time.)

And I wish I could say that this was a one time thing, that my voice never rises during the week when my children are running through the house screaming like banshees. But I can’t, because it does.

Honestly, though, one of the things that I’m so grateful for is that kids are so darned forgiving. We don’t ask for their forgiveness, but they give it. They’ve moved on and they’re all cool with us like two minutes after we yelled at them about throwing their socks all over the house.

This may or may not happen every other day at my house.

In the not so distant past, my first grader has said to me, right after I’m nagging him to pick UP! RIGHT NOW! FOR THE TENTH TIME!, “You’re the best mommy ever.” And he says stuff like that all the time.

I feel like I stare at him for a moment too long with a look that says, “What? Are we thinking about the same mom here?” And then I actually say, “Aw, thanks, sweetie.”

Because the truth is that there are days when I’m driving in the car, back of my head leaned against my seat, praying that God will just help me to be a better mom.

I mean, think about this. I’m a clinical counseling student. Someday, I will be a clinical counselor, and (knock on wood) credentialed to give counseling to people. And I sometimes think to myself, Oh, God, what if my children need therapy later on in life because I was such a naggy, crazy mom? 

The awful irony.

My gosh, I’d have to refer my own children out for therapy because of an obvious conflict of interest.

I digress.

My point is that I think God makes children so darn forgiving on purpose. I think that He kind of knows that we’re going to screw up. Because, you know, that’s what people do.

But I think there’s another caveat to our children being so forgiving. I really think that, that forgiveness convicts us. I know it does me.

Today on the drive over to Grandma’s house, I did ask my son for forgiveness for shouting at him earlier. He told me that I didn’t need to apologize because he knew he’d messed up. (There’s that forgiveness! And taking responsibility? What?!) But I came back and I said, that, yes, of course I need to apologize. Because just because someone else makes a mistake does not give me the right to make a mistake back.

Parenting and children bring out probably the worst, but also the best (a lot like marriage, just saying’) in us. There are so many things that I’m grateful for when it comes to my children. But one of the things that I’m grateful for today, is my son’s ability to completely forgive me before I even ask.

 

What is something that your children do that you are thankful for? Let me know in the comments below! 

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(PPS: I got the adorable image ^ from love.catchsmile.com)