my love story

When I was 19 years old, I stopped dating. I had had plenty of boyfriends (I know, 19 is young to have had a lot of boyfriends) - and I had experienced plenty of heartache. So I promised myself my next boyfriend would be my husband. 

When I was 24 years old, my sister made me join catholicmatch.com. She came to me and asked if I would make a profile so we could just see who was on the website. We laughed and laughed as we filled out questions from "Do you believe in papal infallibility?" to "What is your favorite title of Mary?" and "Who is your favorite saint?" We basically filled out my profile as a joke, not really writing anything in my "About Me" or uploading any pictures. We honestly just used my profile to see what kind of guys were online. By the end of the night, after laughing until we cried, my sister turned to me and said, "I really think you should sign up. I have a good feeling about this." I fought her on it, but finally agreed - almost as a joke. For a week, I would text or call her every day to regale her with hilariously awkward stories of very odd attempts at communication from random guys all over the country. My biggest qualm with the way they were trying to pursue me was that most of them would skip emailing me first and jump straight into "chatting" with me (a la facebook chat). It would overwhelm me to get a chat request from a guy I had never seen, never had the chance to see if I was interested in them at all, and would just jump straight into an online conversation. 

A week into it, I got a very sweet email from a man named Michael. He was a red-head from Denver, and although I stated explicitly on my profile that I was not interested in long distance, he acknowledged this in his first email and said he was interested in getting to know me anyway. I chatted with him that night, became facebook friends with him right away, and three weeks later he was on a plane to California to take me on our first date.

On our first date, I was interested in him, but didn't know if there was enough of a connection to truly start pursuing a long distance relationship. I found myself praying the majority of the day: "God, if you want me to continue getting to know this man, please show me something - please get my attention." We had spent all day together - going to Balboa Island, praying at a cute little chapel together, going ice skating and getting dinner, and I still was unsure if this was worth the incredible difficulty of long distance. 

After dinner, we went back to my car, and it was dead. He loves this story, so he could take hours telling every single detail. But suffice it to say, we had to pull an all-nighter at Denny's, waiting for AAA to come and replace my car battery. This man took such good care of everything while we were both exhausted and frustrated. He was so patient and kind through the whole thing, and allowed me to sleep in my backseat while he took care of the logistics with AAA. I was in awe of his selflessness and ability to take such good care of me, even when I wasn't his girlfriend or even a good friend for that matter. It was only a first date. 

(At a certain point at Denny's, I told him I couldn't stay in cute date clothes anymore so I put on some sweat pants and slippers I happened to have in my car. I made him take this selfie for posterity - even if there was only the tiniest chance that he would be my future husband - I would want a photo!)

Well, God answered my prayer loud and clear. I saw something in Michael I had never seen before so clearly: a man of God who is incredibly patient, kind, selfless, thoughtful, and someone who is stable and strong. It was so apparent to me that these were all the qualities I needed and was looking for - so I allowed him to pursue me. 

On December 31, 2011, I finally had my first boyfriend in five years. Nothing like I expected, nothing I thought I wanted - but everything I needed and that God desired for me. 

And I started falling in love with this amazing, holy, selfless, thoughtful, generous, kind, good man. He makes me laugh, he dances with me, he sings to me, he kisses me on the forehead, he gives when he has nothing left for himself. He takes care of everyone around him with no thought for himself. He is strong and stable when everyone around him needs him to be. He is the best man I have ever known.

I've moved to Denver twice in our relationship. Once for the summer of 2012 and then again in January 2013, which was supposed to be permanent.

(We have taken so many road trip selfies it would be overkill to post them all.)

The first time I lived in Denver, I had the most amazing time. I had a full-time job working at a children's theatre company, I was living with my best friend from high school, and Michael and I were just having the best time living in the same city. So I decided to teach for one more semester in California, and then quit my beloved job and move to Denver permanently.

But then I got sick. My hormonal disorders and depression hit us both like a ton of bricks. In California, I had set myself up with a job I loved, near my family, with a schedule that ensured I got enough sleep and had enough time to relax. My issues with mental health were held at bay for years and didn't show themselves until all of those band-aids were ripped away and all I had was Michael. A new city, no roommate, no family, no close friends, new job, and not enough money to live comfortably. I think anyone would have some sort of freak out. But I lost it. He finally made the selfless decision to move me home as quickly as possible, knowing it would be the best place for me to recover and stay healthy. He also knew this meant he would have to leave his life in Denver and move to California one day as well. 

This man has taken care of me every step of the way in this relationship and in my struggles with my health. He was with me my darkest night, when he found me on the ground and lifted me up into bed and soothed me to sleep. He made sure to fly out and hold my hand as I went in for surgery and prayed over me up until the last moment. He is the one who taught me how to fight for my life. 

The day he asked me to be his girlfriend, I shared with him that I have PCOS and may never be able to have children. He looked at me and said, "That doesn't change anything." Later in our relationship, I shared with him that my last relationship fell apart when my boyfriend at the time found me sobbing uncontrollably on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. My last boyfriend got so scared that everything changed after that, until we eventually broke up. I told him my fear of this being my story for the rest of my life: no one would be able to put up with me. No one would be able to handle my issues. No one would want to carry this burden. He said, "If I ever find you on the bathroom floor, there'd better be enough room on that floor for me." He is the one who has pushed me to be my best self. To find the right medications. To go to as many doctors as I need to until I find the right ones. He is the one who has gone to countless therapy sessions with me to support me and work through our own struggles. He is the one who has held me during panic attacks, wiped my tears away, helped me breathe during anxiety attacks and made me smile when I'm feeling hopelessly depressed. He is the one who prays with me when I am so mad at God that I can barely breathe. He is the one who makes me better. In every way possible.

He is the one.

This amazing man has somehow found me worthy of being his wife, and asked me to marry him on Pentecost Sunday. He completely surprised me (as you can tell by my lack of nice clothes, make-up, or having washed or styled my hair!), which is exactly what I wanted. On Saturday, we went to Balboa Island - our first date spot - and had an incredibly romantic date. I kept waiting for him to propose, but he never did. I was at peace with whenever he chose to ask - so I let it go. The next morning after Pentecost Mass, we went to the alcove with the Blessed Mother - Our Lady Queen of Angels, placed our hands upon her feet, and prayed a Hail Mary together. I got up to leave, and turned to see Michael on one knee. He asked me if I would marry him, to which I said yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes! These photos were taken after the proposal, a few women in the church asked us to re-enact the moment, but my reaction was still completely genuine - I was in absolute shock and couldn't stop shaking from surprise and excitement. After we were done, we asked the priest to bless us and bless my ring - so we were prayed over and blessed right away as we begin our preparation for marriage. It was beautiful and perfect, reverent and prayerful, on the Church's birthday, no less. The birth of Christ's bride.

The engagement story and my stunningly beautiful ring (which he had my little sister help design) and proposal are incredibly exciting, but what matters is that we are getting married. We are preparing to participate in such a beautiful sacrament, and I am so humbled by God's grace through all of this. We are currently praying a novena together for trust and for our ability to keep our eyes focused on Christ. I can't wait to plan my wedding, but more than anything - I can't wait to experience being married to the best man I have ever known.

do not be afraid. keep on speaking. do not be silent.

There is so much to write. So much to say. I've been listening to this song on repeat this afternoon so I encourage you to hit "play" while you read. I hope this song makes you want to live a little bit more today - I know it did for me. "Let's go to sleep with clearer heads, and hearts too big to fit our beds - and maybe we won't feel so alone, before we turn to stone." Beauty.

I finally took the plunge and announced my blog on my facebook page. So far, I've kept my blog pretty closed to the "blogging community", and haven't shared it with many people who know me personally. The response so far has been overwhelming.

The reason I started this blog was because I felt called to it. That's the truth. I felt God tell me that I needed to write my story down, so that someone would know they are not alone. I've always had the gift of transparency - God has gifted me with a fearlessness in sharing my heart, my story, my thoughts, my feelings. I've never really known why. I am unashamed to be me. To cry in public. To sob in public. To tell people that I'm mentally ill. To tell people "I love you" a million times before they ever say it back. To tell strangers how I'm really doing, even when they were just making small talk. To ask strangers to tell me how they are really doing. I'm not afraid. Thank You, God.

But with this fearlessness has come pain. I of course have been betrayed, I have been hurt, I have been used, I have been mistreated and disrespected, I have been hated. But I will keep going. I will keep sharing. I will keep choosing to be fearless.

Because when I am fearless, God somehow uses that to allow other people to step into bravery and tell a part of their story they have never spoken aloud before. To tell me that they struggle with depression. That they doubt God. That their mother is going through chemotherapy. That no one knows they are mentally ill, and they wish they could just speak it out loud. That they have always felt alone. That they feel guilty because they are so unhappy.

Oh, my friends. How you have touched my heart. You will never know how deeply you have touched my heart. I sit here and write and weep. Because God is allowing us to speak life to one another. Shame has no place here. Shame cannot survive when we speak our truth to one another and overcome it with love and understanding. Shame is defeated when we let in the Light. Shame cannot breathe when we choose to breathe life into one another; when we uphold one another's hearts in the Truth. The Truth of God's love for us, and the truth of our love for one another.

The truth is that we are so worthwhile. In every struggle. In every sleepless night. Through every night of tears, through every manic episode, through every day of chemotherapy, through every day of job searching. Through the days of feeling friendless. Of feeling worthless. Of feeling like everything is pointless.

Every story matters. You matter. Your story matters.

Do you hear me?

You matter.

Your stories have touched my aching heart and I am so deeply moved.

My beautiful friends, be unashamed. Be fearless. Be unashamed of who you are. Be unashamed of your story. Be unashamed to tell it. To tell people that you are suffering. To tell people that it's okay that they are suffering, too. Because the truth is, we are all suffering. We will continue to suffer until we go Home. And the only way to survive it, to live it, is together. To love each other to death until death brings us new life. 

"Do not be afraid; you will not be put to shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood."

--Isaiah 54:4

"Overhearing what they said, Jesus said to him, 'Do not be afraid. Just believe.'"

--Mark 5:36

"One night the Lord spoke to Paul in a vision: 'Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent."

--Acts 18:9

Oh, my friends, how I love you. You are not alone. You are never alone. Let us live unashamed. Fearless in Christ. Do not be afraid. Keep on speaking. Do not be silent.

if grace is an ocean, we're all sinking

So yesterday, Michael and I got in a huge fight on my lunch break at work. I had already had an awful morning with my 8th grade and 6th grade classes, and he called me on my lunch break and gave me bad news. And I was so, so angry with him. We fought and fought and in all the fighting, I forgot to take my medication. I take all of my pills at 12:30 PM every day. But I was too busy fighting to remember. So I didn't. I took them at different times, I took them hours late, and my body got so confused. My brain got so confused. And I paid the price with a massive episode.

I think this episode was bad enough that maybe the details are too much for a blog post. I have no problems sharing, but my intention is not to throw a pity-party, to scare people, or to make people feel uncomfortable. So just know that it was a bad one, but I got through it.

So I'm okay today. Back on track and on time with my medication, reminded once and for all that my entire world needs to stop for 5 seconds every day at 12:30 PM so I can take my pills and be okay. I am okay.

So this is what I have to say today.

Life is so hard right now.

But yesterday, I played a game with my 1st graders that was so much fun I temporarily forgot that I was in the middle of a huge fight with my boyfriend. We walked back to their classroom singing a song we learned from Ghana, just because they loved it so much they couldn't stop singing it.

Yesterday, my co-workers listened to me as I shared with them how upset I was that my boyfriend and I were fighting. They listened and loved me so that I could get my head back on straight to teach my 1st graders.

Yesterday, my 5th graders saw that I was struggling and they behaved perfectly all afternoon. They saw my pain and they gave me the best gift that they could. Their quietness. Their calm. Their peace. Their joy.

Yesterday, my 8th graders needed a lot of discipline. But when I sat with them and spoke to them like adults, they listened. They really, really listened.

Yesterday, I danced like a lunatic in front of my choir class because I know it makes them giggle. Their giggles brighten up my day immensely.

Yesterday, my assistant at work listened and supported me like he always does. Oh, I am so grateful for that man and our friendship. I don't know what I would do without him. If only he was there all the time, instead of a few hours a week.

Yesterday, my roommate listened as I shared my heart and vented about my frustrating day. She listened and loved me and sent me a text message today encouraging me just the way I needed.

Yesterday, even though Michael and I got in a fight, as soon as I started having an episode (they start pretty much instantaneously), the fight was dropped and he loved me so hard and so deep and so true. He stayed on Skype with me all night, singing to me until I fell asleep. I love this man.

Yesterday, the only thing that brought me peace was Michael praying over me as I screamed and cried. I have not prayed in a long time. But in my madness and tears, I think I let God in for the first time in a long time.

So here I am, so tired today. But I see grace today. I have new eyes today. And I am trying to let God in and let His grace keep me afloat. Because His grace is everywhere. I just have to look for it.

And we are His portion, and He is our prize

Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes

if His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss

And my heart turns violently inside of my chest

 I don't have time to maintain these regrets

When I think about the way He loves us.

Oh, how He loves us.

my own currently

Linking up with Anna Kate and the girls at A Mama Collective like I do every Monday - only this time I'm not following format. So here it is. My "currently."

Oh, how I wish I could sit down and just write a beautiful and inspiring blog post today.

But, oh, I am struggling.

Struggling to see past my current reality. Struggling to feel hope. Struggling to feel like I'm not drowning. Struggling to breathe.

I have been unhappy for quite a while. Really unhappy. I will never stop living in gratitude, and choosing thanksgiving over wallowing in self-pity, but I am not doing well.

After my surgery in November, I was so hopeful that that was the answer. Once we realized my uterus was full of polyps and my hormones were going crazy, we removed them and life was going to be different. My PMDD would start to regulate itself - maybe I would only have one period a month instead of two and my moods would change!

And don't get me wrong - things have been better. I have not had a single manic episode since my surgery, I have not threatened or wanted to hurt myself, I have not blacked out and failed to remember my own words and behavior the night before. And for this I am beyond grateful. But I think maybe a part of me had hoped I would be all better. The joyful, radiant, vibrant girl that I know myself to be would magically return.

But I'm not her. At least not yet. I'm suffering, and I am unhappy, and I couldn't tell you why.

Maybe it's the fact that all I want is to be married and a mother and that is still months and years away. Maybe it's the fact that I really feel trapped in my job. Maybe it's the fact that I don't like my current living situation. Maybe it's the fact that I'm so alone where I live - no community, no friends - only my TV and my job. Maybe it's the fact that I'm so overworked and exhausted all. the. time.

And I am so far from God. I have isolated myself from my friends and from Him. In December, I asked Him for help for the first time in a long time. I lied on my bedroom floor night after night in hysterical tears, screaming at Him, begging for help. And it never came. So I stopped asking. And I'm having a really, really hard time asking again. I know I'm not supposed to do it alone, but when you ask and He just turns away, what then? What next?

Everyone has been saying this is my dark night of the soul. So I bought myself the book Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross. I am ready to pick it up, I know I need to. I have also been told repeatedly by priests in confession to ask for the intercession of Mother Teresa. I know this is not a coincidence. Every priest I go to talks to me about Mother Teresa. She didn't experience any consolation or sense of God's presence for most of her life - and she never stopped praying or doing God's work. I ask for her prayers constantly, but I am certainly no Mother Teresa. I feel so selfish, like such a failure - like I am being so childish, just wanting God to make me feel better. But I'm telling you,  I can't do this anymore.

My therapist today has suggested I see my doctor again and change my anti-depressants or change the dosage again. My mom wants me to see my OB/GYN again and go on birth control finally. Both scare me a little. Is all of this because I am imbalanced? Am I depressed? Or am I supposed to make life changes that will make me happy? Am I inherently unhappy and chemically not ok or is it life situations that are just making me feel unhappy? With mental illness, it's so hard sometimes to see the difference between true, genuine sadness versus your brain just keeping you from being happy and maintaining itself in a state of depression. It's so much to go through in my mind and my heart, that I just feel like sitting still. I don't even feel like walking forward anymore. How much can one girl take?

This week, I've gotten my first speeding ticket, I've gotten into my first car accident, and my debit card was reproduced and money was stolen from my bank account. It's almost funny... in a sad, ironic way. How am I supposed to look at all of that on top of everything else and just keep walking? I've been feeling like life is one big blizzard and I've been taking one step at a time with my head down, just making it through one step at a time. I'm just starting to feel like the blizzard is too big. The snow is too deep. I want to just stand here and freeze.

But I know myself.

I will not give up. Even if I want to. I don't think I know how to give up.

So I will keep walking. And I will keep trying to let God in, even if I don't know how to anymore.

currently vol. 1

Finally linking up with Jenna & Mary at A Mama Collective and Anna Kate at Home Away From Home for "Currently" on Mondays. I love it and think it's a great way to be more conversational in my blog - I hope you enjoy knowing what's going on right now! Thanks, girls!

Thinking about: 

The fact that I'm ready to show my face on this blog. The reason I keep my identity private is for my job, but I feel that the only way I can reach out to people and relate to them is to be myself. To be a real person. So here I am. It's nice to meet you.

I'm also thinking about the show that I'm in right now. I know I haven't said anything about it, but I'm in a production where I get to play a 17-year-old girl who is going through high school and just trying to figure out who she is. I also get to dance quite a bit - which is so much fun and also totally terrifying, since I haven't danced in a musical in 7 years. It's been an awesome challenge for me and I'm actually having a blast. I am really eager to see how audiences are going to respond to the show. It's very honest and edgy, and I think it will be controversial - but I think it's an important piece of art that discusses real-life issues that should be talked about. I feel privileged to get to be a part of it.

Reading:

My One Word by Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen. Recommended by Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience. It's about choosing one word for your year and focusing on it. It ties back into my last post - my word for 2014. My word is "liberation" - and I'm hoping this book can provide some wisdom and practical advice on how to incorporate my word into my life and my prayers.

Listening to:

The soundtrack for the musical I'm in. Over and over and over. Because I got cast in the show a week late and had to learn all the music on my own. Not to mention the fact that some of it is just super fun to sing. It's called "bare: a pop opera". It's pretty edgy and has bad language, so I don't recommend it if you're easily offended or have kids around. But it's a powerful story with some fun rock music to listen to.

Watching:

Oh, let's be honest. I'm a TV junkie. But my favorite? Parenthood. Obsessed. I even got my 17-year-old brother to watch it with me last week and he loved it. It's so honest and the characters are so interesting and real. I love it.

Thankful for:

So much. For the fact that my boyfriend's brother just called me just to catch up. This is a beautiful, beautiful thing for me. For my sister who I got to hang out with this morning. For the fact that I got to sleep in today and will get to for one more day tomorrow. For my beautiful students who sang their hearts out in Mass yesterday and touched my soul when they looked in my eyes and sang, "Here I am, in the face of every child." For the cast of my show, who I don't get sick of even with day after day of long, long, long rehearsals. For the chance to learn that I can actually dance. For my amazing boyfriend, who supports me in everything I do. For the fact that my boyfriend has found a new and profound joy in his life's work. It is amazing to see how alive it has made him and it has healed me in so many ways and has brought me so much joy to see the man that I love be so fulfilled. For my therapist, who sees me and understands me in a way that makes me a better person. For the fact that my therapist weeps for me when I need to be wept for. For the fact that he encourages me to be the best version of myself so gently - just the way that I need it. I am thankful that although I have been in the desert for so long - truly, my dark night of the soul - God is coming through for me and my heart is changing.  Thank You, Jesus.

My awesome cast practicing our dance - we do a show within a show - Romeo & Juliet.

my word for 2014

The last time I picked a "word for the year" was in 2011. I chose hope. 2010 was a year of great loss for me in many ways, and I ended the year in heartache and sorrow. I chose hope and chose to look to Christ in 2011, knowing that He would deliver me. And He did. (He's good like that, you know?) 

2013 was the most difficult year of my life, and this blog has only dipped its toe in the pain I've experienced. I don't mean to throw a pity-party, only to be honest. I have been struggling lately with feeling completely disconnected from God. From being so drowned in my own sorrow and pain and anger that I can barely breathe, barely pray. And it's affecting my relationship with my boyfriend, it's affecting my ability to work, my ability to be any semblance of "myself". I am really struggling. 

And I realized that I am being suffocated by fear. I am so afraid. I feel like a failure constantly, like nothing I do is good enough. The smallest mistakes seem like the end of the world to me, like I am worthless. I am afraid that my boyfriend and I are not going to get married, so I cling onto him in terror, so afraid of losing him that I think I might actually lose him because I'm holding on so tightly. I'm afraid of being horrible at my job every day, like I'll never be good enough. The list goes on and on.

So I had to choose a word for 2014 that is the opposite of fear. I looked up antonyms for "fear" and I found courage, boldness, bravery, confidence. Those didn't resonate with me. 

I thought and prayed and I decided that, to me, the opposite of fear is freedom.

But that wasn't the word. Freedom means "no hindrance or restraint," "the state of not being imprisoned or enslaved," "the state of not being subject to or affected by"....etc.

Nope. That's not it. Freedom is a powerful word, but it seems to me too open-ended. Too vague, too ambiguous. I needed something with more direction, more focus - more purpose.

This. This is my word. 

liberation:

noun

1. the act of setting someone free from imprisonment, slavery, or oppression; release.

2. freedom from limits on thought or behavior.

The difference? Freedom is a state. Liberation is an act.
2014. A year of action. A year of liberation.

Lord, liberate me from my fears, from the chains that have me bound to sorrow, pain and sadness. Release me from oppression, from my slavery to sin and anger. Free my thoughts and my actions so that my life and my love for You can have no limits, no boundaries - so that I am no longer chained down by fear. Liberate me, Lord.

"The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still."

--Exodus 14:14

moving forward

I've been so stuck on editing my past drafts that I haven't posted yet, that I haven't been able to move forward and keep writing. So I am going to let them go. Moving on.

A few months ago I posted about a few health problems I was worried about. I had two periods a month for three months. I was quite worried about what was going on with my body, but my PCP didn't seem to have any thoughts. I had many girlfriends send me info for OB/GYNs because I shared I didn't have one I liked. Unfortunately, none of them were near me or took my health insurance. So the search began.

And I found a doctor who has absolutely changed my life already.

My first appointment with him we sat down and discussed my history - which is really insane. It's really a lot. All my hormonal issues, depression, anxiety, etc.etc.etc. Now two periods a month. I asked him if he was overwhelmed, because let's face it, I wouldn't blame him. He looked me in the eye and said, "Of course not. This is what I love to do. Let's figure this out."

Wow.

I have never had a doctor say anything like that to me. My PCP is wonderful, and so is my therapist. But no one has looked at me and said we will find an answer. I felt such peace and even excitement - to think that after years, I truly think I found the doctor who is going to help me change my life.

Dr. Bender quickly decided I was going to need multiple blood tests and ultrasounds. We scheduled an appointment for that next week, and I was so anxious just to get it done.

My therapist, Dr. J, asked me if I was nervous at all about what I might find out. I told him, "The worst thing he could say to me is, 'I don't know.' I just want an answer. I'm ready for whatever it is."

So we did blood tests that confirmed my PCOS diagnosis, and then we did ultrasounds. Yep. My ovaries have cysts and follicles. No surprise there.

But then we sat down and needed to talk about the 1.3 cm mass he found. In my uterus. We needed to talk about my aunt who has uteran cancer right now. We needed to talk about my mom who is a breast cancer survivor. Okay. Let's talk.

"We need to get it out as soon as possible. You need surgery."

And all I felt was peace.

After begging and begging for an answer, I finally had one. I didn't care what it was.

"There's a 99% chance that it is only an endometrial polyp, but we won't know until we do pathology reports."

So we booked the surgery for two days before Thanksgiving. My amazing Michael flew out from Colorado to be with me. I wasn't scared, but he held my hand anyway and prayed over me and with me. I felt so safe and I knew God was in this, I knew He had led me here, and I knew no matter what happened, He is good and I will be okay.

A week later, we had a follow-up. Dr. B showed me photos of my uterus.

"You see that smooth spot?"

He pointed to the right side of the photo, a small area of smooth pink tissue. The rest of it was white and lumpy. I've never seen the inside of a uterus before - so I definitely didn't know what I was looking at.

"That's what your uterus is supposed to look like. You had more than one polyp. We removed every single one, including the tissue surrounding it. You had polyps in the tissue itself."

There were so many, I almost laughed. And then the only real question - of course -

"Were they benign?"
"Every single one was benign."

Praise God.

"Your period will hopefully regulate itself after this."
"What about my mood swings?"
"There's no way of knowing. Hopefully. We'll have to wait and see."

But the most beautiful part is, he and I had been discussing me going on birth control, just as a last-ditch attempt to regulate myself and find some stability. And I told him I think I want to hold off. I'd like to see what my body does on its own now that these have been removed. I have had so many OB/GYNs, and every single one of them would have said: "Fine. Suit yourself." He said: "I agree. Call me if you want to start them in a few months and we'll meet and talk about it."

Thank You, Jesus.  Thank You, Jesus, for an answer, for a doctor who is fighting for me. For a doctor who sees me and listens to me.

I am eager to see how my body will adjust now. But I am feeling a little glimmer of something I haven't felt in a long time.

Hope.

"Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in our hope of sharing the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."

--Romans 5: 1-5

reflection friday

once in a while on friday i will post a diary or journal entry from the past, to let you into my whole story and journey with depression - not just what is going on currently. 

april 20 & 21 

2004

"life is kind of weird right now i must say.

i feel... disoriented? i don't know the right word.

i kind of feel out of it. and confused. and really unhappy, almost depressed. and really stressed out. yet i'm not. i'm still smiling, and i still laugh at everything, and i'm still finding happiness in really simple things like i usually do. i feel close to my friends, but far away. i want to be at home, but i want to go away somewhere. i want to surround myself with people, but i want to be alone. what happened to me, and when did it happen?...

do my eyes really show it? that i'm tired? that i'm bored? that i'm stressed? that i'm sick? that i'm unhappy? that i'm restless? that i'm confused...?

why do i act happy, and when i act happy i feel happy, and then when i'm not distracted anymore i go back to this. 

i don't like it.

i miss me a lot.

i'm not really depressed. i don't feel sad. but somehow i know i am. i know i am. i just don't know why.

my eyes are making me sad. i don't like it."

it's amazing to go back to old journal entries from when i was 16 years old and see myself trying to figure it out - trying to get some answers. i would sit on my bed for hours every day after school and just cry and cry and cry before i started my homework. at the time, it seemed like high school drama. i mean, everyone in high school goes through drama and heightened emotions - all the changing hormones make everything seem like the beginning or the end of the world. even still, i think i knew somewhere deep down that something was wrong. i don't necessarily remember that feeling - that sense that maybe i was depressed. but i wrote it down. i knew i was depressed, i knew i was sad and i didn't know why. it's a tough thing, to start struggling with depression as a teenager, when it's so easy to write someone off as a drama queen. i wish i had listened to myself better, i wish i had asked for help sooner. i just didn't know. and it's okay not to know for a while, i think. but when you do - when you do have that feeling deep down that something is wrong - i encourage you to ask for help. let your family know. let your friends know. tell someone who loves you. ask them for help. ask them to encourage you to see a therapist if you need one. tell someone. 

listen to yourself. 

the feeling helpless days

last month, i started spotting a week (to the day) after my period. i didn't think much of it, until it lasted a week and it became heavy enough to be another light period. two periods in one month? not a fan. i figured it was no big deal.

until the same exact thing happened this month. two periods in one month two months in a row is a little disconcerting to me, especially with all my hormonal problems.

so i made an appointment to see my doctor (my PCP) to discuss this with him, as well as ask about increasing my dosage of anti-depressants. i'm on effexor 37.5 mg right now and my therapist and i agree that i might need to go up to 50-75 mg, because my current dosage, although in the beginning worked wonders, is now merely taking the edge off... and i need more than just taking the edge off.

so he agreed to put me on 75 mg, but didn't have any thoughts on my two periods-a-month problem, except to go see an OB/GYN. he followed that by saying, "except what are they going to do for you? probably just put you back on birth control."

and i just started crying. it feels sometimes like i'm just running in circles. i'm trying so, so hard to break the circle, to find something that works, to get better. and it just feels like i'm back at the beginning: the birth control pill.

i don't want to get into details today about why i don't want to go on the pill. what is important is that it is not an option for me, and to many doctors it is the only option, which is so incredibly frustrating. it makes me so sad and feel so helpless that so many doctors won't look beyond the easy route. they won't invest in you as a person and understand why you don't want to go the easy way. the truth is, the birth control pill is the easy way, but it is not the best way. the truth is, the pill is only a band-aid and i want more than that. i want answers. i want to help my body from the inside out. i want to get to the root of it and fix it. the pill will not do that. it will only make everything seem better on the outside. no thank you.

so my doctor upped my dosage of effexor, which i'll try in a few days when i run out of my current dosage. i'll keep you posted on how that goes.

but in 3 weeks i turn 26, and i no longer have health insurance. what then?

how does a girl with so many health problems survive with no health insurance? and have i mentioned i'm broke? so even if health care all of a sudden becomes affordable, i can't even afford groceries right now, let alone any kind of health insurance.

so i'll be insurance-less. my doctor and i are trying to see if i can get a 90-day supply of my medication so i'm covered for a while, but he doesn't know if i'll be able to. and he still wants me to see an OB/GYN regardless, which i know is what i should do. however, i don't have an OB out here. i had one in denver that i loved. she was catholic like me and believed we could find answers outside of the pill. i have yet to find one like her out here. and i only have 3 weeks.

i left the doctor feeling so helpless and scared.

i just want to get off the roller coaster for one day. i want answers, i want to be better, i want to feel like there is hope.

and i know there is. i know Jesus is my hope, and my goodness have i learned to lean on Him through all of this. thank God for that. i know God is pouring grace over me. i know He is.

it's just days like today, it's hard to feel it. that's just the reality of it.

Jesus, be my hope. be my help.

edit:

and right after i posted this, i read this blog:

when your life feels like a little bit of a puzzle

with this quotation:

"depression isn't a cut that needs a bandage -- it's a cancer that needs a battleplan."

thank you to ann voskamp for these words that made me at least feel understood today.

the days you remember you're still sick (or) behold, I make all things new

I've been on Effexor (an anti-depressant) for a little over 2 months now, and it really has done wonders for me. It's one of those things that I want to write about -- medication, I mean -- but today my purpose in writing is just sharing my current reality with you.

Last night, I went out to get drinks with two very dear friends. My friend, Mark, shared with me his story of depression. I already knew of his struggle, but last night's conversation went very deep and tears were shed and love and understanding and compassion were shared. It was a beautiful moment for both of us -- to remember that we are not alone. Someone understands. I don't want anyone to understand this sort of sorrow. This sort of feeling of being in prison, in hell, being tortured by your own body and mind. And I wish I was being over-dramatic. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Ever. So to hear my friend share in this hell with me felt both like my heart was breaking for him and like I was looking in a mirror. So I wept, and he wept. I wept out of empathy, hurt, heartbreak, love, compassion, and to be honest, self-pity. I am so sorry for myself sometimes. (I think there are moments where that's a good thing and moments where that's a horrible trap. But that's for another time.) He wept because of his own pain, his own heartache, and after feeling so broken and so alone, someone could finally look him in the eye and say "I understand." 

I was able to understand and love him last night, and encourage him that everything was going to be okay. There were so many nights where all I wanted to do was die and here I am, on medication that is working for me and feeling like a healthier version of myself.

And then today I lost it.

There are days when I just feel like an utter failure. A total, complete failure. I want so badly to be "better". I want to be healthy, to be well, to be able to deal with life like a "normal" person. To be able to multi-task. Or remember things. Or be able to focus on more than one thing at time. To be able to not get overwhelmed to the point of wanting to die. I want to be a great girlfriend, the girlfriend who can be the encouraging, beautiful, supportive, gracious woman who I believe my boyfriend deserves. I catch glimpses of her sometimes. But when I am sick, when I am so overwhelmed and suffocated by lies and grief and sadness, I can't see her anymore.

Today I couldn't see her.

After a beautiful night where I felt so sure, so grace-filled, so whole, so ready to encourage my friend and love him through the darkness, there I was in the darkness myself once again, not 12 hours later.

I just moved to another city after spending the last 4 months with my parents and siblings in order to let my heart heal in a safe place. I am so scared to not come home to my sweet brother every single night. I am so scared to spend so much time alone. Alone with my own thoughts, my lies, my fears. Alone with my TV, the thing I cling to so desperately to not get inundated with darkness sometimes.

I just started a new job. I am so scared to fail. I am scared of hating it. I am scared of doing everything wrong. I am scared of everyone hating me. I am scared of not being good enough.

My best friend is getting married, and I am her Maid of Honor. Michael's roommate is getting married, and Michael and I are doing the music for the wedding. My aunt is sick with cancer and we are going back east to go to both weddings and visit her and my family. I have so much to do to prepare for all of these things that it feels impossible.

Everything just feels impossible.

And I just crumbled. I cried and cried until there were at least 30 crumpled up Kleenex next to my bed. And Michael stayed on Skype with me and told me to look at him and told me everything is going to be okay. I didn't believe him. I am done with the episode now and I can look at it and know everything is going to be okay. Everything is always going to be okay.

But when you're in an episode and the world is spinning and your head wants to explode and your body just aches to not feel so desperately sad -- you just don't believe that it will be okay.

There is a depression, a sadness, that is so physically painful that it actually feels unbearable. These are the moments that I feel like dying. These are the moments when I think I legitimately can't handle feeling like this -- it is too big, too much, for my body.

And I cry and cry, just hoping that the tears will get out of my body and take the sadness with them.

And I just feel like I failed. I was doing so well. I was so happy. I was so stable. And here I am, having an episode again. I'm still sick.

The truth is that I will always be sick. I have struggled with depression for 10 years and this will be a battle I will fight for the rest of my life. And I can kick and scream and bang on the walls of the prison cell.

Or I can let it be. And I can rest.

I know that Jesus is near me. I know He is carrying me. I know that this is my cross for a reason.

It is so that I can share my heart. So that I can weep with the broken-hearted. So that I can hold someone's hand and look them in the eye and say "I understand" and mean it, from the bottom of my aching heart. So that I can pray for people who are depressed with an earnest heart. So that I can encourage people who have lost faith to pray. So that I can teach people to understand mental illness better. So that I can love more fully, more deeply, more genuinely. So that I can experience joy in a way that most people could never understand. So that I can, hopefully, glorify God in my suffering.

All I want is to love Him and to be loved by Him. I can kick and scream and cry and stay in this prison and wallow in self-pity. Or I can let Him come into this prison with me and hold me.

I had a vision in April when I first decided to move home. It was a vision of myself - my whole body was like shattered glass, big shards of glass that would fit together like a puzzle to make up my body. But the pieces were all separated an inch away from each other. And from the inside of this glass was this huge light -- a light bursting from the inside out, pouring through these shards of glass and shining bright through all the brokenness.

That is who I long to be. Broken in body, but bursting with light in spirit.

My body will always be sick. But my soul will rejoice in the Lord, knowing that He has blessed me with an illness that brings me closer to Him. It is the way He makes me holy if I let Him. It is the way He loves me the most when I let Him. It is the way I can glorify Him best by His grace.

And so my soul shall rest in the Lord, knowing that in Him there is peace. There is joy. There is love. There is comfort. There is light.

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband; and I heard a great voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them; and he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.

And he who sat upon the throne said, 'Behold, I make all things new.' Also he said, 'Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.' And he said to me, 'It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water without price from the fountain of the water of life. 

...And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. 

And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine upon it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb."

--Revelation 21

it was then that i carried you

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes of his life. For each scene he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one belonging to him, and the other to the LORD. When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life. This really bothered him and he questioned the LORD about it:

"LORD, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me."

The LORD replied:

"My son, my precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints...

It was then that I carried you."

Most people have heard of or read the "Footprints" poem, and I hesitate to post it because of its over-use. But I hope you keep reading.

There is a night that I return to often in my memory. A night that I will never forget, because it was the night that I was at the lowest I have ever been, and hopefully will ever be. 

It was the night when I discovered what true love is.

When I moved to Denver to be near my boyfriend, Michael*, we were so excited about being in the same place after dating long distance for a year, that we didn't think through how challenging it would be. Take the normal challenges of quitting your job, moving away from your friends and roommate that you love, leaving your family, and starting over and add onto that a mental illness and you've got a recipe for disaster. I just didn't know how sick I was. Denver showed me.

I had a job that I hated, I couldn't make ends meet financially, I was living alone, my family was 1,000 miles away and I had no kindred spirits. No friends beyond friends -- people who knew me, loved me, and were safe. The people I met and knew and befriended in Denver were amazing and I don't mean to  toss that aside. But being so sick, so depressed, living in such darkness, I just needed people who understood and loved me no matter what. But all I had was Michael. 

And he became my rock. My confidante. My best friend. My everything.

And he never abandoned me. Not when I would scream at him for no reason. Not when I would fight with him over nothing at all. Not when I would cry desperately for his attention when he had other things to do. Not when I threatened to crash my car on my way home because I couldn't stand to be alive. He never left and never gave up.

But this one particular night, it was worse than ever.

Michael and I had made plans for the evening to get together and watch a movie. I was counting on him to come over, but what I thought was a set plan was a "maybe" to him -- a simple miscommunication. But I couldn't handle it. My mind took this as this ultimate rejection, the deepest pain possible. It's not something I could ever explain. Everything seemed to come crashing down in that moment. I just felt so desperately alone and sad that I couldn't take it anymore.

I tried to get out of my work clothes and into my pajamas, but as I got undressed, the weight of the world and all my pain and sickness and darkness crumbled onto my shoulders and I fell to the floor in hysterical tears. I couldn't stand up.

I lied there crying in my underwear for I don't know how long. I tried to get up to brush my teeth, but on the way to the bathroom, I collapsed again. I saw the bottle of sleeping pills on the bathroom counter and I thought, "What would happen if I took as many as I could?" What would happen? Would I finally be able to die and stop feeling like I was locked in a prison cell? Would I finally be able to breathe? I couldn't handle the weight. I couldn't handle being so desperately sad that it was physically crippling. 

Clutching to my faith in God, I reminded myself once again that I would never, never do that. With whatever determination I had left, I crawled back into my room, forcing myself to move one inch at a time. This took every ounce of willpower I had.

When I got through the door, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. I somehow managed to call Michael and say, "I need you."

Before I knew it, Michael came to my apartment and saw his girlfriend, lying on the floor with no clothes on. So desperate, so miserable, so vulnerable, so broken.

No words were exchanged. Michael came to me right away and with all the love in his aching heart, he swooped me up off the ground into his arms and carried me like a baby into my bed. He dressed me and rubbed my back as I finally drifted off into sleep, the safest haven I had from my sickness.

He saw me in my brokenness and loved me anyway.

It was then that I carried you.

Michael has blessed me with the gift of a selfless love that is the truest reflection of Christ's love I have ever seen. He saw me in my weakest, darkest, ugliest place and loved me anyway. Not only did he love me, he carried me. He picked up my burden and took it upon himself.

But the beauty is that Michael is not Jesus, and He cannot be my everything. Part of the reason Michael suggested I move home in April was because he had become my everything. He needed to step out of the way for Christ to come forward, for Jesus to be my everything once again. 

I weep at Michael's love for me. I weep at his giving nature, his compassion, his selflessness.

And I think of what this shows me about Christ's love. Michael's love for me is absolutely insignificant next to Christ's. And when I think of that... my goodness am I overwhelmed.

Jesus' love for me is never-ending, infinite, selfless, giving, compassionate, nurturing, unconditional, understanding, empathetic... It is the love of a confidante, best friend, brother, father, husband... all in one. I am overwhelmed at the thought that anyone could love me that much.

But how can I deny it when He has given me the gift of a mirror that I know shows only a fraction of this love? 

It was then that I carried you.

Jesus was there that night, carrying us both. I cannot imagine the heartache my sickness has caused and continues to cause Michael. It is something I will never understand and I have a hard time forgiving myself for it, although I know it isn't my fault. But Jesus carries him as he carries me, through the suffering, the sorrow, the darkness. 

I am humbled and overwhelmed and at peace knowing that, even in my brokenness - no, especially in my brokenness - I am in the arms of the Man who loves me the most in this world.

Jesus.



*names will be changed in this blog to protect privacy

who i am: sassy, silly, sensitive, serious, and strong

So now that the dreaded first post is over, let me tell you a little bit about myself. There is much to say, but since this is a blog dedicated to speaking of my mental illness, I will jump right in to tell you the basics.

When I was 21 years old, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. This is a hormonal disorder that affects about 1 in 10 to 20 women. I will post details in the future, but what is important to know is that my hormones are not normal, and many women with PCOS struggle with depression and anxiety, irregular periods, ovarian cysts, and it is the greatest cause for infertility in our country.

This year, I was diagnosed with Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder. This is also a hormonal imbalance that causes severe depression and anxiety for a time period of up to 14 days before a woman's period. It can be extreme to the point of suicidal thoughts, and is not something to be taken lightly. The symptoms are alleviated soon after menstruation begins, but begin again soon after, depending on how long a woman "PMDD"s before her period.

I have a history of depression regardless of these disorders, which has also come to fruition in anxiety disorders, including OCD tendencies.

I intend on sharing details about all of these things with you, especially because so many people are unaware of PCOS and PMDD. I hope to bring an awareness and to maybe take away some of the fear people have about the phrase "mental illness."

Although my blog is about my mental illness, this aspect of my life does not define me. It absolutely makes me who I am and I am grateful for the ways it has shaped me, but I want you to know about me.

I am sassy. I have a giant personality, I love to laugh (I have a hugely boisterous laugh), I love to talk, and I have an attitude. Not a bad one. Just an attitude. I can take being teased and I'll always give it back. I can be a little larger than life sometimes. I am silly. I grew up in a family that ranks each other from funniest to least funny. Seriously. (It's all in good fun). Humor is everything to us, and we have no shame in being goofy and ridiculous. Have I mentioned I love to laugh? I am sensitive. I feel things very, very deeply. I am empathetic and love to listen. I have a big heart and love to love people. I get my feelings hurt easily, but it's okay. I get incredibly upset if I think I've hurt someone else's feelings. I love to read books and spend time alone and write and look at butterflies. I am serious. I love heart-to-heart conversations. I love to analyze things and reflect on them deeply. I love to make deep connections with people.

I am strong. I've struggled with depression for ten years now, and I have been through the depths of despair (as Anne Shirley would say). I have come in and out of the darkness many times, and I want to share it with you and I want to let the light in. I want to share what I have learned in hopes that I can offer some of my strength to anyone who might be reading. I have learned so much over the years and I feel God calling me to write it down, as I keep journeying.

"Here I am... I desire to do Your will, O my God." 

--Psalm 40:7-8

PS -- I reserve the right to use whatever grammar and punctuation I choose in this blog. If it bothers you, I apologize. sometimes i love the way it looks and feels when nothing is capitalized. call it the e.e. cummings in me.