Everybody Looses it…(even) people like us

My kids listen to different music than I do. Big surprise there. I have teens and they dont want to hear the “Oldies” station all the time… (which plays music from the 90’s mind you. Oldies is the stuff from the 60’s in MY book) I do pride myself on being more tolerant than my hubby however. He takes control of the radio the minute the engine turns over. I hand over the stereo dial the minute kids climb into the van with me. It’s easier. Plus, if I’m honest, I want to know what they like on the radio so I can run a mom’s ear over it. We have forbidden stations mind you, but the pop stations, yeah, they get to listen to them. One sure way to make them crave what I DONT want them to listen to is to forbid it flat out. I DO remember being a kid, even if they think it is impossible.

I heard a song on their station that I’ve probably heard a hundred times in the last few months, but for some reason, today, it just hit me. I haven’t a clue if my daughter has ever really listened to the words and thought of our hard weeks, but I hope she really hears the words. It’s not a song I would have thought about if it hadn’t been for this week. It’s been a hell of a week… UGH. But I want her to “hear” she isn’t alone… someone else out there gets her pain, her thoughts, and they’ve found a way through them. They’ve taken them and become stronger if by only sheer will.

Life has been throwing me curve balls lately. My health has been having a blast creating havoc and keeping me bound to the things I really don’t want to be. I’ve had to cancel plans this week and rework things with frustrating regularity. I’ve been miserable and I’ve been mad. I hate being undependable. I’ve been forced back into taking meds I loathe and dealing with side effects i hate worse yet. I’ve broken promises to my kids and seen the disappointment in their eyes. There is NOTHING I hate worse than a broken promise made to my family. It slays me.

Beyond that, Lindsey has had a tough month, and the last couple weeks have been particularly hard for not just her, but for us all. It’s like I’m just trying to survive this month. Is it June yet?? It is? Whew. Thanks, June, for running in to the rescue! I looked up at the night sky over the previous weekend and said to myself that that full faced Cheese-man looking down at me HAD to be the reason squirrels had taken up roost where somewhat sane and semi-normal people used to abide. Our cute little ranch is a NutHOUSE!

20130601-160029.jpgWithout getting into details, Lindsey and I have really had a tough time personally, and we’ve been hitting a wall that, as a mom, I just feel like at times I am just slowly loosing it. I want to understand and care, but at the same time, I am just a person. One who is trying her best to do all the things right as they come along, but no matter how hard I try, I always seem to get it wrong when it comes to her. She is a teenage daughter, with a crazy mother. That alone is enough to make most nod their heads in understanding.

With us however, there is a lot more to the layers that we dig through on a daily basis. There is the good, the hard, the bad, and the ugly. We’ve been living in the ugly zone a lot. Too much. I’m tempted to say, “careful, your face will freeze like that” on more than one occasion… though it really doesn’t have anything to do with facial expressions. More like a place we will be frozen IN if we dont just decide to move forward ANYWAY.

Because of the nature of Lindsey’s illness, her mind over reacts to normal frustrating situations. We only recently have made her doctor understand that when the doctor asks, “Do you feel like you want to hurt yourself, or have any thoughts of wanting to die,” that for Lindsey, that is a IN THE MOMENT question and answer. She answers based on what she feels when she is sitting in the office. She cant really remember or want to remember back in the last week or last month. The reality is that she at least once a week goes to this hard place, and on a bad week, she will visit these thoughts daily. A good week for us is when she is neither happy or sad, but walking a line where she is thoughtful and calm and content.  Highs are hard because being really really happy means she will plummet that far back down below the base line as well.  I’ve unconsciously begun to notice how long her highs are… because they directly have a tendency to predict how long she will stay in that pit of hopelessness when she falls from it.

That said, it is my greatest desire to see this girl smile, laugh, skip, run, dance, and jump freely.  I love nothing more than hearing her laughter when she laughs with abandon.  I love to see her face lit up and to hear her nonstop chatter when she is so full of life she truly just seems to forget her prison and blows right through the bars and escapes it for just an hour or two.  For whatever reason, her mind punishes her for these bursts of joy.  They are called manic phases.  She can move from one phase to the other within a few hours or less.  Adults will spend days in their manic phases and somehow i think that must be nice (when it’s a high) but the lows would absolutely suck then too…

All in all – regardless – we are still plugging away.  We are still facing this.  We are still battling it.  It is still not WINNING over us.  She is not captive to it – because we all choose to be sure she is not alone in her fight, and she knows, like it or not, we will never go away, give up on her, nor allow her to stay in a place of hopelessness.  The battle is wearisome. It’s often overwhelming, and honestly, there are days I wonder how I can possibly be of any help to this girl so imprisoned…  but I will never stop trying.  Never.

Do you hear me, baby girl?  You are not alone, and I refuse to let go of you, no matter how deep down into your pit of pain you recede and no matter how hard you push me away.  You are stuck with this mom (who’s all thumbs at this) who just follows her heart and listens to the voice whispered from above on how best to love you in the moments that come to us.

I love you.  Never gonna stop.

Never.

Our Silver Lining Playbook…

This is the blog that began the journey… one that we talked about taking for a couple of years now. Our very own Silver Linings Playbook…

D i T c H i N g The MASKS

184494_10200383282971119_993161549_nWhen i began this blog, I did it as a dare.  I took the dare and it was to be completely open and free – to not hide behind a single mask.  I took the dare from God.  I heard it as clearly as someone might hear a voice from across the room… but it was that inner voice you cant ignore, and one I knew wasn’t ME talking.  I was not in any mood to tell anyone my truth and reality.  It had to be God because I was in a place of imprisonment, and only truth would set me free.

Over these many years, I ditched my masks one by one till only one remained.  It’s not like I had huge things hiding in my life… but I’ve always been afraid of what people would think if they just saw ME.  I was shocked.  People prefer truth when…

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Meet Lindsey

Lindsey2I have an vibrantly beautiful daughter.  She is talented, spirited, creative, hardworking, organized, independent, and full of life.  She is amazing.  Unfortunately, most of the time, she doesn’t believe a word of it.  The image she sees in her mind is not one just skewed by the jaded eyes of teen-hood, but ones far more intense and deeper wounding.  Lindsey is living in a fractured reality that is distorted by mental illness.

Wow.  Mental illness.  That’s a word I’ve only allowed myself to say out loud to a precious few people in my life, and only in the last couple of months.  They’ve been intense months and the fact of the matter is, it’s now fully impossible to deny that the ugly “M. I.” labeling words are the only ones to help shed light into a very dark place in our lives.

The only way I can describe it to people is that it’s like Lindsey is living in a glass bottle with a long narrow neck.  It’s been fractured and the glass is splintered and cracked.  Looking out at the world from inside the bottle makes it look like a distorted version of what it really is.  Nothing she sees is “NOT” really there, it’s just not the way she sees it.  It’s close, but it’s not nearly as ugly or scary as her perception of it is inside her bottle prison.  She cant reach out and touch things to prove they are not what they seem.  The glass prevents it.  Each time she does, she gets little knicks on her fingers, they bleed,  and she’s learned to be afraid to event reach out.

I cant join her in her world.  I can only reach down through the neck in the bottle and try to give her comfort.  Her Dad and I try to be the voice of reason in the midst of confusion and pain.  The hard and painful fact is that the only way  we can truly reach her is if she reaches upwards.  If she reaches up to God – with God we can reach into her world as best we can – then hopefully will connect through the nuggets of words and situations that God brings us to.

And he does.  Over and Over.  Then there are the days, for whatever reason, it just doesn’t work.  It’s a long hard truth.  I’d love to say that we connect more times than we don’t, but that isn’t the case.  There are long spans where we don’t connect at all.  It’s terribly painful and torture for us both.

I love my daughter more than I have words to express.  But it isn’t easy.  I plan to share our journey with you over time.  I hope you’ll join us.  I have no answers, I am not a counselor… but this is life as real as it gets, unfiltered, raw, and full of the trial and errors that we have faced that have lead to us still having our daughter with us to walk this road with.

We will fight daily for her, and help her learn to hold the hand she was dealt in life, and to play the game before her called life, without having to fold.  Because folding this ill hand is not an option.  Period.