Life Lessons
Wednesday, March 5, 2008, by Sherra
I’d like to call this the “final” post of my series on The Black Hole.
But I also know that would be a big mistake.
It is ten months after the ordeal that was my spring, summer and part of fall of last year.
I have since found a new holistic gynecologist. He dropped obstetrics some years ago and his focus is on women and hormone balance.
You can check out his website. He has a lot of excellent information on the site. I found the “Resources” page very helpful and printed out a lot of reading material even before my first appointment. It has been a fresh starting point for me and you may find some information that could help you or someone you love.
Having a doctor who is proactive and orders blood work and actually schedules an appointment to go over the results is a welcome change. Sending a postcard or telling you “someone will call” if there is anything to discuss just doesn’t meet my needs.
A annual exam, a pat on the back and a bill to pay is no longer enough for me. Maybe it shouldn’t be enough for any of us.
I can tell you that having a doctor who sits down with you and goes over lab work with you personally and actually listens to you is a giant step in the right direction.
Yesterday was my third appointment with him since September. I will see him again in four months. It is an amazingly good feeling when you know you are headed in the right direction and you have a doctor on your side.
It’s like we’re managing my care together. Frankly, that is what is suppose to happen when you go to the doctor!
Some people might even refer to this as excellent customer service. What a rare thing to find in the medical industry these days.
I don’t have a solution or a cure. I know I’m still prone to depression especially if a boulder gets in my way. I’m not offering medical advice to anyone. You will have to do your own research and find treatment that works for you.
Key words: Don’t miss them - for you.
I’m just one woman who wants to tell the truth and stay real.
I’m feeling so much better. About once a month or so, The Black Hole calls my name and sometimes I still crawl into bed for the day. But it is nothing like last year.
I’m getting back “the me I used to know” which is not necessarily “the me before the head injury” but rather; it is “the me who is in a much better place.”
Depression is an insidious, real disease. It can creep into your life and try to slowly strangle you.
Maybe your family misses the signs.
Maybe your mother and father grew up in the generation where they weren’t allowed to “be depressed” and they were expected to “get over it” and you were taught the same thing.
Maybe you don’t have a Luci or Ann or a friend who will rescue you.
Maybe you think it’s a sign of weakness and you keep telling yourself you just have to “snap out of it.”
I’m here to tell you it is real. And sometimes you can’t just “snap out of it.”
I really want women to not feel so alone. I want them to know we are so much more alike than we are different. I want us to stop hiding from the truth about life and coping so we can help each other when one of us slips into The Black Hole.
Let’s help each other move boulders.
Let’s throw each other a rope.
Let’s save each other.
The End…for now.
P.S. My heartfelt thanks to all of you who have read through each post on this *depressing* subject and for all the comments and personal emails. It really means a lot to me. Stay tuned for a new series next week I’m calling “Little Lessons.” This series should be a lot more FUN than The Black Hole.
Popularity: 44%
Categories: Friends, Life Lessons, Milestones
Subscribe
Wednesday, February 27, 2008, by Sherra
I drove 14 hours and 1,000 miles and stopped once for gas and to go to the bathroom and once for a sandwich and to go to the bathroom.
This, I do not recommend. It was not my finest moment.
PhilBillPaul was frantic with worry. He had lived with my head injury emotional outbursts for almost all our years of marriage but I had never left. (Well, except that one time I caught the bumper of the car on the side of the garage and drove to the Kroger parking lot and sat for an hour.)
He called one friend to the north and one friend to the south. Apparently I have no friends to the east or west of me. Neither had heard from me because I was “enjoying” my quiet ride with my iPod playing and my cell phone turned off.
At about the six-hour mark, I decided to turn the phone on. I guess I decided I should check my voicemail. Soothing messages from Ann, friend in the north and Luci, friend in the south made me cry. They were worried and just wanted to help me.
I gathered what little composure I could find and called Ann first since she knew about my breakdown the night before.
Next, I called Luci because even in my mental state I was still worried about good manners. Luci owns an Alzheimer’s facility that she purchased so that her mother would have a place to live. This speaks volumes about her character and she is a caregiver extraordinaire. She asked exactly where I was and at that point I was approaching Louisville, Kentucky. Had I driven south I would have been almost to Tampa, where she lives.
She got on the internet and said she had a flight she would ticket immediately and I could go to the airport, leave my car there, fly to Tampa and she would get me any medical and professional help I needed and take care of me. It was all overwhelming me - this making decisions while I drove to nowhere. I hung up and wept.
It was beyond kind but I couldn’t get past my guilt about imposing on her life just because I couldn’t manage mine. I also knew, as Ann reminded me, that I would feel trapped if I didn’t have my car. (They were both nice enough to not point out that driving was probably not what I should be doing.)
So I declined Luci’s offer but I promised I would call her when I knew where I was going.
A few hours later, my friend Ann made the decision for me. She met me at midnight, three hours from her house, and got us a hotel room and took care of me. She opened her home and took care of me for 10 days while I slept and slept and slept. I did wake up to eat. (I wish I could say I lost my appetite…but no such luck.)
She gave PhilBillPaul updates. I talked to the kids almost every day.
I pulled my personal thing together. (Sort of.) We learned that the withdrawal from the medication I had been taking could be worse than heroine withdrawal for some people. I have no point of reference for that one. The doctors know very little or share very little. The patients, many times, continue to take low doses of this particular medication rather than suffer through the withdrawal.
This would have been helpful information before I started taking the drug. But then again, we didn’t know that I would have such a violent reaction to the medication and the withdrawal process.
All I can tell you is that I have never, ever felt so bad in my entire life.
I don’t name any of the drugs because I know everyone tolerates and responds to medications differently. My experience is just mine. Yours may be totally different. I tend to believe that my head injury plays a part in my inability to tolerate anti-depressants and they just don’t work for me.
What really saved me? Friends. Girlfriends, to be more specific. Lifelong friends who kept calling, emailing and checking on me. Friends who didn’t let me disappear into that Black Hole. They threw me a rope. Sometimes I threw it back and screamed I didn’t need it. They would just throw it to me again.
For the friends who read this and feel bad that they did not know…please release the guilt. I know that if I had picked up the phone, reached out for a moment to let you know, you would have helped me.
No code names for these friends who saved me. From my heart with all the love I can give, thank you…Ann, Luci, Toni, Kim, Colleen, Nancy…you are my heroes and you all really did save me.
To be continued…
Popularity: 47%
Categories: Friends, Life Lessons
Subscribe
Monday, February 25, 2008, by Sherra
It was a bad day on Friday for Indiana University basketball fans. Fortunately, for most of my readers, the resignation of head coach Kelvin Sampson didn’t really shake up your day too much.
On the other hand, PhilBillPaul and his mom had to talk at least three times Friday afternoon as they compared notes on what they were reading and hearing. When you are born and raised in Indiana and even after you move to Georgia (and Texas where his mom is), being an IU basketball fan is serious stuff!
We are big basketball fans at our house. Our kids started playing basketball when they were seven which, incidentally, is the age we decided to let them try a sport.
Side note: Unless you count when The Grunter was five and he participated in a one week soccer camp. He had absolutely no idea what to do, where to go or why we made him attend. It was because he was our firstborn experimental child and I had read an article about soccer being the best sport to start your child in–which may be true for many but wasn’t for him.
They all played baseball and softball for several years. Roger Leroy even tried diving her freshman year. The girls run cross country at their high school. Scary Baby just finished her second season of basketball at church. They all know how to play golf, bowl and we’ve had some fierce badminton tournaments in the backyard.
Okay, so you get the idea. They’ve been exposed to a variety of sports and we really are a basketball family.
Basketball has become the primary sport that they all love. I’m sure it has something to do with their dad loving it and coaching them. I was personally delighted because it is an indoor sport which means I don’t have to sit in the rain, sleet, freezing cold or blazing sun.
We are also an oddity among parents in our community. Our kids have always been allowed to pick only one extracurricular activity at a time in addition to their full-time job, which is being a student (for those of you who think we’re endorsing slave labor).
In terms of sheer time management, it was the only way we saw to manage our family, our relationship and our life. One of PhilBillPaul’s favorite lines is “We run the kids, they don’t run us.”
Back to this not being about basketball…
We’ve had some lively discussions over the weekend about the shake-up in Indiana and part of the team not showing up for practice and how and why all these things happened.
Bottom line for us: A coach is a teacher and mentor to the team and the players he works with. He has to be held to a higher standard because of his interaction with our kids. Just like a pastor or politician or any other leader.
When I say “our kids” I mean all of our kids - not just mine. I mean it in the sense of “it takes a village” and we are the village.
If the adults are not setting good examples for our kids then we are left with a society full of kids who think it’s okay to lie, cheat and ignore the rules that we are all suppose to abide by. If the coaches, who are suppose to be helping mold our kids into productive members of society, are breaking rules, then we need to hold their feet to the fire when they screw up.
Yes, everyone makes mistakes. (I don’t have enough time left in my life to write about all the mistakes I’ve made and will continue to make.)
Yes, I also believe in forgiveness.
But I also believe in common sense and like to use it especially when others seem to have lost theirs.
Kelvin Sampson let our kids down. Individually and collectively as a team. During a winning season, he let them down in a big way.
If you want the details of how he let them down and why he has been branded as a cheater, here’s an ESPN column with some strong opinions written by senior writer Pat Forde.
Or here is a Sports Illustrated story with less slant and more facts.
But back to our kids…
It is time now for all the adults involved with these student athletes to step up and support them as they learn this tough life lesson.
Adults they care about and love will let them down. While no one is perfect, the disappointment that comes when someone lets you down is never easy.
We all need to remind them of their own personal responsibility to surround themselves with role models and mentors and friends who walk the walk with honesty and have the courage to do what is right even when it’s not easy.
If Kelvin Sampson was the reason they chose Indiana University, then they need to find a new reason.
Our bigger message to our kids should be that we are here to help them grow into young men and women with character and integrity. And no one can ever take that away from them without their permission.
That message should be loud and clear in the media but unfortunately it usually isn’t the message we read..
Which really means that we all need to to make sure that message is repeated over and over in our own homes…
Meanwhile, it’s nice to meet another Indiana family here in Georgia.
This picture was taken after the girls earned first place in their basketball league championship and finished with an undefeated season. Woo-hoo!
PhilBillPaul, the girls and John, Lisa and Sharté Foy love to display their team colors whenever possible since we live in the land of rabid lovely Bulldog fans who, coincidentally, wear the very same colors.
Life Lesson (LL): It’s never a wrong time to do the right thing. Thanks Uncle Doug. 
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): Have you had an opportunity to teach your kids a lesson about doing the right thing using sports or a coach’s behavior as an example? Because it may not feel like a big deal but it is. When you do this, you are doing it for all of our kids. Do tell so I can publicly thank you!
Popularity: 57%
Categories: Friends, Life Lessons, Moments, Rants, Teens, Tweens
Subscribe
Thursday, February 21, 2008, by Sherra
Today is a day I choose to celebrate my dad.
Indulge me as I take a little trip down memory lane with some good times with my dad…
It was one of the proudest days of my life when I birthed The Grunter way back in 1989.
He is our only child born in the Midwest. Upon learning I was pregnant just seven months after the car crash in Florida, we moved to Illinois so I could be close to my parents.
We didn’t know the sex of the baby and I was quite sure it was a girl.
Ah, but life is full of surprises and we were the proud new parents of a baby boy. Grandma and Grandad got to come to the hospital hours after his birth. We kept the name we picked a surprise too. So when Grandad arrived at the hospital, it was a moment that is frozen in time for me. I introduced him to his first grandson and his namesake (in reverse).
Grunter The meet The Grunter. Okay, not really but I can’t reveal The Grunter’s real name here on the internet. So you’ll just have to imagine. (Something like PhilBillPaul meet PaulBillPhil–say that three times fast.)
We stayed in the Midwest for 8 months after The Grunter was born and we made the most of our months there. We enjoyed Friday night fish dinners at the local restaurants, Bears football and played euchre on the weekends.
My dad and PhilBillPaul always got along great. Such a rare gift when the in-laws love your spouse. Together they had a wicked sense of humor and loved to make my mom and me squeal.
But then we moved to Georgia. Our weekly visits became two or three times a year. We added two more grandchildren to his growing brood which topped out at eleven.
The twins were as big a surprise to us as was having a son! It took him a long time to attempt to hold the girls together–admittedly they were a handful. He was almost as overwhelmed as we were with two babies and a two year old.
We spent several Christmas holidays in the Midwest when the first three kids were babies and toddlers. Later, we opted to stay in Georgia and create our own family holiday traditions but I look back at those years fondly.
He was always genuinely excited when we visited. One year he waited patiently for our arrival so he could show the kids his new hair. On our previous visit, The Grunter had asked him where his hair went. When we walked in the living room, there was Grandad donning his new hair.
My dad always made time to be with my kids. He got down on the floor and read books. He colored with them and he played games with them. He almost always adjusted his schedule when we visited so he could spend time with us. I got to watch my dad love my kids unconditionally.
He taught them to play chess. It took a lot of patience to get Roger Leroy to sit still. Luckily, he had lots of patience.
For six years in a row, we traveled to the Midwest for a Labor Day family reunion in Indiana and would spend some time in Illinois with my parents. It was an easier time to travel without the ice and snow and the chaos of the holidays. And if there is a good time to be in the Midwest, September is a glorious month!
My dad loved golf. Absolutely LOVED golf. He played every day that he could and sometimes twice a day. At his best, his handicap was 4. He was an excellent golfer.
He taught us to play in the 5th grade and made us count every single stroke. I was very proud of that first round score of 56…on THREE holes. In spite of my score, he was also an excellent teacher. He didn’t just teach us how to hit the ball; he taught us the etiquette of the game which was every bit as important to him as a good drive off the tee box.
Out of the four kids in my family, my brother and I are the ones who still continue to play. I have improved a little. My brother has improved a lot.
When my kids got big enough, he promised to take each one to ride in his red Harley golf cart while he played a round. He waited until they were old enough to understand how to sit and watch quietly and enjoy the beauty of the course. It was a magical thing to witness.
This day was Wizzy’s turn. Excuse me, he never let us drive the cart?! In fact, he usually made us walk.
Roger Leroy never got her turn…
Today marks eight years ago to the day that he died. He had just turned 60 in December of 1999.
He passed away 2 short months later in the home he loved with just me and my mom there. We promised we wouldn’t take him back to the hospital he hated so much.
It was my privilege to be there in those final days.
Life is made up of challenges and chaos and of moments and milestones. Every once in a while, there is a perfect moment. Sometimes you don’t get to take a photo of that moment.
But sometimes you do.
My favorite photo in my life is this one.
My favorite video is my dad sledding with my kids when we flew up to Illinois spontaneously for the weekend because The Grunter said he “wanted to make footprints in the snow.”
Be here now. Stop and make footprints. It is so worth it. Make sure you make the time to tell those important people in your life how much you love them. Visit them. Hug them. Call them today.
Treasure the moments. Take lots of pictures. Learn how to use that camcorder. I just cannot express how priceless those moments on film and dvd are to us.
Treasure each other in the recognition that we do not know how long we shall have each other. –Joshua Loth Liebman
This is the last grainy, poorly lit photo I have of my dad. It is one of only two photos I have of him with Scary Baby. She was just one month old when he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma–a particularly painful and hideous cancer.
She was five months old in this picture. Five months later he was gone.
Time doesn’t heal all wounds. If you’ve lost a parent or loved one, then you already know this.
Love and time – those are the only two things in all the world that cannot be bought, but only spent. –Gary Jennings
There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him and miss him.
Some day maybe I’ll tell you some bad, funny stories about him.
As I smile and celebrate his life, especially today, I thought this would be a fitting close.
Two years after his death, I made a small tribute album with all the pictures of him with my kids that I could find. The album helps us to
always remember and here is what I wrote on the last page…
I thank God that he was able to see each of my children and he knew that Daddy and I made a good and happy life for our family. Most of all, I am at peace knowing that this man who raised me as his own daughter since I was three years old…this man who I never referred to as my step-dad even though that is what the world might call him…this man who made a life for my mom and me, supported us, paid the bills, created a home and made us all a family…this man who never judged me and quietly believed in me through those tough teen years…this man who taught me the game of golf and so many other things about life…this man knew in his head and his heart through my words and my actions that he was the only dad I’ve ever known and loved with all my heart…
Thanks for indulging me today so I could remember and celebrate
a kind, funny, patient man. My dad.
Popularity: 42%
Categories: Life Lessons, Milestones, Moments
Subscribe
Wednesday, February 20, 2008, by Sherra
PhilBillPaul was on his way home–presumably to take me to the hospital or some facility that could help me. The kids were hiding somewhere in the house listening to me cry.
I called my friend Ann to tell her my passwords and important information she could take care of while I went away. Apparently, I was thinking I might be away for a while and someone should answer my emails and take care of other details I wouldn’t be able to while I was hospitalized. Because I’m a planner like that.
I still could not breathe.
I never, ever felt so out of control in my whole life.
Ann told me to take one of those new anti-anxiety pills right then while she was on the phone with me and she insisted she would stay on the phone with me until PhilBillPaul got home.
When she was sure PhilBillPaul was tending to me, Ann then called my OB/gyn and my therapist.
Have I mentioned that my friend Ann lives in Illinois? She was doing all this for me three states and 820 miles away–I hope you all have a friend like Ann in your life…
The OB/gyn offices said to take me to the emergency room. The therapist said to try to wait until Monday because the ER would do very little and might make it worse. It’s always helpful for the professionals to agree and make good decisions on your behalf when you are no longer able to. (sigh)
I had already screamed announced I was not going to the ER to be strapped down and sedated. I have BIG issues about being pinned down.
I took a shower. I crawled into bed and talked to Ann on the phone again because she seemed to be the only person who could calm me down. PhilBillPaul brought me something to eat. I fell asleep.
I slept fitfully and never really calmed down. The exhaustion was indescribable.
Maybe it was the rhythmic snoring that brought me to this place or maybe I just needed something to blame because no one could tell me why I felt this way. I do know that the snoring had become like nails on a chalkboard, or for me, like when someone scratches their jeans and I have to slap them to stop it.
Come to think of it, his breathing had become quite annoying too.
In the morning, PhilBillPaul left to take the girls to a basketball game and The Grunter was still sleeping.
All I remember thinking is this: I cannot stay in my own house another minute. I must find a quiet place where I can sleep. I must not be where dogs bark or kids say “Hey mama” or my husband asks me every half hour “Is there anything I can get you?”
I know that last one sounds really sweet and it was. If you weren’t me.
It was also smothering and infuriating. He just couldn’t fix me no matter how much he wanted to.
So I did what we’ve all threatened thought about but only in our head. Or shared privately with girlfriends but always with a little uneasy laughter because none of us would ever really act on those unspoken or private thoughts…
I ran away from home.
Literally.
I left a note that said I would call when I got to where I was going. I packed a bag of dirty clothes and left.
I had no idea where I was going.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I was pretty sure I was going…
CRAZY.
To be continued…
Popularity: 37%
Categories: Friends, Life Lessons, Milestones
Subscribe
Monday, February 18, 2008, by Sherra
This is a message of hope for moms with toddlers, tweens or teens who have some version of the strong-willed child. I know the pain of wondering if you are damaging their self-esteem, leaving permanent scars and ruining their childhood.
First a little more background on The Grunter…
He was born with a mild disposition and he slept through the night. He was an unexpected, unplanned joy in our life.
He was our pumpkin.
He became a big brother far sooner than we would have ever planned.
(If we had been planning.)
At 21 months, we brought home, not just one, but TWO baby sisters who invaded his world.
The days flew by and he spent his days letting his sisters touch all of his toys and protecting them from “choking people.” (You know those little Fisher Price® figures that went with the farm and various other toys.) He announced they had “choking people” at least seven times a day to which I would reply, “Thank you, Officer Humphreys.”
He endured being paraded around and photographed with those darn twin sisters. Here is just one of many, many photos he endured while dressed to match his little sisters.
Side parenting tip: It is much easier to count and corral your children in public if you have them dressed alike. I’m sure it also squelches their individuality but that’s a post for another day.
He even endured life when we had the nerve to bring home another sister the year of his 10th birthday. Weren’t two enough?
But he kind of liked this one who appeared to be his very own “twin.”
The above picture is Scary Baby at 6 months, framed picture of The Grunter at six months and The Grunter himself.
It has to be hard, still to this day, living with all these GIRLS! In spite of how he acts on the outside, we have witnessed his kindness and affection for them. On most days, he’s a pretty good big brother. I like to believe that he knows, deep down, that he would have been a lonely boy without his sisters to play with…
I shared all that with you first so you wouldn’t think I’m a bad mom for taking pictures of one of our many struggles. (Remember we’re all here to share not judge.)
I will be the first to admit that I think there is an extra challenge for mothers who are stubborn and strong-willed who are blessed with children who possess those same characteristics. Well, that and God has a sense of humor…
I am guilty of dreaming of having passive, quiet children who obey and never rock the boat. I have friends who have these strange nice children. Such a boring life these people have…sigh.
Instead, I have a boy who continues to challenge us in so many ways.
It seems like it was just yesterday but in fact, it was more than 10 years ago when our little pumpkin wouldn’t eat much of anything. (No comments from you vegetable-lovers please.)
I present you now with one of our favorite family memories. You know those fantastic one-liners your kids utter and you know right then and there that you’ll never forget them from that very moment.
On this day in September of 1997, that line was…
“WHEN WILL THIS NIGHTMARE BE OVER?”
The back story of this sad photo:
We were in a phase at our house where he was having a very hard time eating good meals. Yes, I am one of “those” mothers who often says, “You are NOT sick, you are FINE.” But when this eating problem persisted, I had a change of heart. I really did get worried.
Worried to the point of going to the doctor to make sure he was healthy. After many tests including urine, stool sample, blood work, x-rays and an upper G.I. - a clean bill of health was announced.
Dad made a special trip to the grocery and bought him this specific cereal because it “sounded good.” Unfortunately, the soggy texture of the milk and cereal combination (who knew?) coupled with our insistence that he eat the TINY bowl of cereal created a full-fledged meltdown ending with the now famous line, “When will this nightmare be over?”
For those readers who are concerned about the boy, his cereal and his life now…
Here is our delightful much-loved firstborn on his 18th birthday who never eats cereal and drumroll please…he is FINE!
Life Lesson (LL): Cereal and milk become soggy when not eaten quickly and the trauma of eating the said soggy cereal may cause you to seek out therapy later.
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): What awful things did you make your kids sit at the table and eat? Or better yet, what did your horrible, mean parents make you finish and you are still sharing those memories in therapy with a chosen few? Come on now, don’t be shy - this is a safe place to share!
Popularity: 79%
Categories: Finding the Funny, Food, Life Lessons, Moments, Teens, Toddlers (& babies), Tweens
Subscribe
Wednesday, February 13, 2008, by Sherra
The nurse at my doctor’s office encouraged me to see the midwife who is well-versed in women’s sleep deprivation, depression and hormone issues. I wholeheartedly agreed. I love the midwives. I delivered all four children with midwives. Sign me up. I need to see a midwife.
She listened. She empathized. She laughed. (I’m still funny even when I’m depressed.) She pointed out anyone would be depressed at the stage of life I’m at with the ages of my children. (That made me kind of sad.)
She sent me home with a NEW prescription that she was SURE would work for me. It was in a different family of drugs than the other two I had taken in the past. I had been properly weaned from the first med and could start the new med the very next day.
She also sent me home with a sleeping pill prescription. I was craving sleep in a giant way.
I took one and lay in bed all night waiting for it to work. No such luck.
Have I mentioned that PhilBillPaul snores like a stuck pig? He has done this for all 20 years of our marriage. I’ve been incredibly tolerant if I do say so and I am saying so now. But at this time in my life, his snoring, or more accurately, my newly developed extreme sensitivity to noise had wreaked more havoc on my sleep patterns.
12 weeks later. Still exhausted. Volatile. Witchy. I called the doctor’s office and talked to the nurse again. She said I should definitely be feeling better by now. Time to start weaning off this drug that wasn’t working and make another appointment. They wanted me to come in and talk to the midwife again.
She was baffled. She couldn’t believe that neither med worked. I asked about hormone levels and doing other blood work to test everything that seemed to be going wrong with my body (and mind). She thought it might be time for a pysch evaluation. I volunteered to check in to a facility where I could sleep for a week or two. She laughed…again.
I left with the names of two psychiatrists she recommended and a new anti-anxiety med that might help on the “really bad days” (until we could figure out what was wrong with me).
Two days later, I had The Grunter pinned to the wall and I was screaming till my throat hurt. I literally fell apart. I could not breathe. I called PhilBillPaul and through my hysterical sobbing I begged him to come home and take me to a hospital that would help me…
To be continued…
Popularity: 31%
Categories: Life Lessons, Milestones
Subscribe
Wednesday, February 6, 2008, by Sherra
I went home from that appointment and I’m pretty sure I crawled into bed and took a long nap. Sheesh, it was a big day for me–showering and driving to the doctor and all. I might have had to stop and put gas in the car. I can’t really remember.
I spent another month in bed considering taking the pills but knowing if I just got a little more quality sleep time, I would snap out of this and everything would be okay.
I made weekly appointments for some talk therapy. I went. The therapist gave me words of affirmation and quality time (my main love languages).
Side note: If you haven’t ever read Gary Chapman’s book, The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate
I highly recommend it. It has been extremely helpful in all my relationships, not just marriage.
Okay, I do know she was getting paid to give me quality time and words of affirmation are really part of her job description. But I did feel better for at least an hour or two. She also thought I should seriously consider taking the medication.
I went home from those appointments and climbed back in bed to sleep because I was exhausted from actually going somewhere. And not sleeping at night.
Another month went by and nothing much had changed. So I made the decision to try the pills.
Please understand my hesitation in taking the pills was not because I am anti-meds. If it works, give me two! My hesitation was in my previous experience of taking a short six month ride on another anti-depressant when my dad was dying and Scary Baby was just 8 months old.
That prescription certainly took the edge off and kept me functioning at a time in my life that I really needed to be “present and accounted for.” But it also made me very, very flat. I am the first one to admit that I like to FEEL my emotions–I love to laugh and I’m not opposed to a good cry. With the drug, I did neither.
Side note: I was very, very agreeable and PhilBillPaul liked that a lot. He could barely get me to argue or squeal about anything. Very sad for me. I missed that part of me.
So I decided to make the commitment and started to take the pills as instructed. It takes at least 4 to 6 weeks to get the drugs into your system at the proper dosing.
Nothing…no change. Except I was more tired which seemed almost impossible. Not being able to sleep at night, I was staying up till the wee hours of the morning and then having vivid, 3D dreams that were not peaceful or soothing in any way.
That was the single most disturbing side effect because even though I’m aware that I have many, many issues–sleep was never one of them. I could get a job as a professional sleeper. It is a skill I have carefully honed. I know I need a minimum of eight hours with a nap or two if possible. I’m the person who can sleep standing up if there is no place to lie down.
Except then I was freaking out because I was not getting any uninterrupted sleep. It was much, much worse than the “new, crying baby, no sleep” mode. Why? Because I was a lot younger then. And my babies were put on an excellent sleep schedule and adhered to it. And because if there was one time I was a really good mother, it was when they were infants.
Ten weeks later. I’m not sleeping, I’m farther down in the black hole and it was time to call the doctor again.
To be continued…
Popularity: 34%
Categories: Friends, Life Lessons, Love Languages, Milestones
Subscribe
Monday, February 4, 2008, by Sherra
Wow, my plan to have lighthearted and funny posts on Monday has already been derailed.
Finding the funny becomes difficult when your children display poor judgment and make bad decisions.
When the assistant principal calls you on Friday afternoon to discuss discipline problems about two of your four children, the Superbowl party weekend takes on a different tone.
I’ll save the details of the school problems for later. Perhaps later will be when they are married with teenagers. I’m not making any promises though. I can only say that I will respect their privacy for now.
Here’s the thing about teenage problems vs. toddler problems. The timeout chair doesn’t work anymore. The consequences are much longer lasting. The impact of their poor judgment can affect more than just your immediate family.
It is also a time when you, as the parent, question all that you have tried to teach and wonder if they’re going to make it in the world.
Then you have to dig deep to find the consequences to match the actions. And follow through.
Because in the end, following through with the discipline with your kids means more than a minor inconvenience for the parents.
Because putting them on restrictions puts the whole family on restrictions.
For those of you who are still in the toddler or tween stage and haven’t made it to the teen years, it’s like staying home to potty train but oh, so much worse. Because they’re not so cute and funny anymore.
But you know that this really is about teaching them life lessons.
And those monotonous days you wanted to change are the days you wish you could bring back.
“Sure, I’ll read Green Eggs & Ham again.”
I bow to those of you who have made it through this stage.
I wish I had some great tips for those of you approaching this stage.
But in the words of my good friend Ann, “I got nothing.”
And this weekend revealed the answer to the burning question on our Happy New Year card:
Why do we take more pictures of
our two wiener dogs than of our kids?
Because right now, they are cuter and they don’t talk back.
Life Lesson (LL): Just when you relax and think things are going well, teenagers will remind you that they were just lulling you into a false sense of security to see if you’re still paying attention. Especially when you thought you were already paying attention!
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): I am open to (and openly begging for) any constructive suggestions on making it through these teen years without becoming a bitter old woman with a substance abuse problem. Give yourself and your kids code names if necessary just share, please share…
Popularity: 44%
Categories: Finding the Funny, Life Lessons, Rants, Teens, Toddlers (& babies), Tweens
Subscribe
Wednesday, January 30, 2008, by Sherra
Back in 1988, my new friend, Mr. Psychologist, who was helping me cope with the side effects of the head injury recovery process, shared a word picture that helps me even today.
He said, “Everyone has a sack of pebbles they carry on their back. Some have larger pebbles than others. Some have more pebbles. Some have less.”
I then announced “if everyone has pebbles then I have BOULDERS in my sack. ” Remember, head injury patients are prone to ill-timed emotional outbursts and I was a textbook case. These days when I act out I just yell “Coma” so everyone remembers it’s not my fault. It doesn’t really work all that often but can you blame me for trying?
Focus, Sherra, focus.
Okay, so the real lesson here is not that I have boulders and you don’t. I believe we all have pebbles, rocks and boulders and we all cope with them in very different ways.
Your boulders may be bigger and heavier than mine. They come in all shapes and sizes and weights. (Hey, just like people.) We’re not here to judge anyone’s boulders so please, let’s start by not judging mine. We are not in a boulder competition. I repeat, this is not a competition!
Rather, we need to look for ways to help each other see past the boulders, move them, chip them away - do whatever it takes to get that other human being around, over or out from behind the boulder.
Upon realizing that The Black Hole (TBH) was a giant boulder and it was getting in the way of my day-to-day life, I knew I had to do something.
The first thing I did was to make a doctor’s appointment with my OB/gyn. It conveniently coincided with that extra-special annual appointment that we all love so much. I did feel a tiny bit productive multi-tasking like that.
I’m pretty verbal (as if you haven’t already figured that out) and I know the importance of being my own medical advocate. I shared with my doctor who I had been seeing since just after the twins were born, that I was having a hard time “coping” at home and my PMS seemed to be lasting, on average, about 28 to 30 days every month.
Hindsight flash: I wish I had known about this cute little chart I found on the internet recently. I might just order one today. I really believe that knowing the rhythm of our bodies is crucial for our health and well-being.
My doctor listened, nodded, and made some notes on his new hi-tech laptop that held my new paperless medical records.
Then he sent me home with the latest, greatest anti-depressant and patted me on the back and said to call if I needed anything else…
To be continued…
Popularity: 29%
Categories: Friends, Life Lessons, Milestones
Subscribe
RSS Subscription
E-Mail Subscription