A Healing Weekend

The beginning of the school year has been keeping me extremely busy.  As my posts have expressed, I have been struggling with my own depression due to the problems of Madelle's mental illness.  We have had additional family problems that have also left me reeling.  I look back at the last months and look out the window to my vegetable garden turned weed patch, wondering where my summer went.  Drama!!!  I hate drama.  As much as I try to cut it from my life, the tendrils of negativity seep under the door.  Thus, I have been trying to get outside to get rid of the messes of four to five foot weeds and other tasks.  I still have all the appointments for Madelle, want to write, a huge church function to prepare for, fantasy football, and a family gathering.  Life is not slowing down.  But some healing has taken place.

This past weekend, I attended the family gathering.  My father-in-law's health is declining so his amazing sisters threw a huge birthday party for him to celebrate his life and legacy.  My in-laws are the best.  The party itself with friends and family was set for three hours; however, the family spent the entire three day weekend together.  We broke bread, played games, shopped at the farmer's market, joked around, attended a sheep run, and simply hung out.  Beautiful memories were created.

Yes, I did struggle a bit.  One, I am an introvert.  Two, I have no capability to chit chat when my heart is weighted down.  But that is what is so wonderful about all of the family.  They understand that I am quiet.  They understand that life throws curve balls that chatter the glass of our emotions.  They continue to love and support.  Not one judgment was made about how we are handling Madelle.  I could rest in the laughter.  I healed through the smiles and hugs.

I realize the depression still lurks in the background.  We still have a lot of battles to fight.  I am not able to get to my writing as much as I would like.  But, my hope is restored.  I see my blue sky of Montana in all its glory.  So, I am off on my writing and blog schedules.  The church function and gardening will continue to cause complications with my word counts.  But soon the snow will fly and no more work will be done outside.  In a couple of years, Madelle will be conquering the world and I will have tons of time to write.  Life is still beautiful.

Feeling Better

Throughout this process of writing about mental illness, I have let me doubts and emotions hit the page.  Last week was horrible and I wrote it all authentically.  I really believe that the more we open up, the more we show the world it is perfectly natural to struggle.  The reality is that mother's feel like the worst mother's in the world when dealing with all the stress.  Some people reassured me that I am a good mother.  I appreciate that and needed the encouragement.  I know I am a good mom, but I also doubt that during the bad times.

The one thing I haven't been writing about is that for about six weeks my husband was out of town doing military duty.  I don't like letting the internet know when he is gone.  So, my emotions ran even higher as did Madelle's.  She loves her dad and he makes the day shinier.  He makes mine shinier as well.  I was so relieved when he joined us Saturday night.  However, my emotions didn't calm down until Monday.  By Tuesday, my fibromyalgia flared-up with a vengeance.  I am still hurting, but I see some hope in the future for life getting better.  With Jerry by my side, the panic attacks are much easier to manage for our sweet girl.

Madelle has also calmed down.  A couple of her friends, who I suspected were causing her stress, have split away.  Two other friends are hanging out with her at school so this week is going much smoother so far.  She is enjoying her new teachers and classes.  She hasn't had a panic attack since Saturday.  We are both relaxing and enjoying the reprieve.  We are also looking forward to a weekend with tons of family and friends.  I will talk more about that next week.  Now, I need to get to work doing something.  We, of course, continue to rely on all your thoughts and prayers.

Current Status

Here I sit in the very room I described yesterday.  The joy I felt has plummeted into the depths of stress.  Like I said on facebook, my emotions are all over the chart.  This week has been a trial due to the beginning of school and Madelle having a number of panic attacks.  I actually read the first scene of my novel.  I have thoughts on the next scene.  I might try to write it later today or next week.  In the mean time, here are my non-fiction words about the current developments of living with mental illness.

Saturday we won two battles.  I came home from a mini-retreat and she actually wanted to go shopping for school supplies.  Yay!!!  The girl hates shopping, which in all fairness to her, she gets it from me.  We went to Kmart because no one shops at Kmart.  I thought we did really well though I did annoy her with grabbing a couple of pair of jeans.  She hates clothes.  But, we made with no arguments, shakey hands, or irruptions.  After that, she also agreed to attend Mass.  Yes, going to church has been difficult.  The time before, she had a panic attack.  She didn't this time. 

Monday, we lost the battle.  We went to the school in the morning to go through her classes.  She wanted to walk her schedule.  Her stress mounted as we climbed stairs and wandered through hallways.  She spoke harshly to me about doubting her.  After the last class we found, she bolted out the closest door and we walked around the school to get to the car.  My nice daughter turned into the angry daughter.  I suggested going home, but she was trying and said we could still go to Home Depot, though she stayed in the car.  Still trying, she suggested going to lunch.  We pulled into the parking lot of Applebee's and the belligerent attitude kept creeping out.  We went home instead.  Later she came out of her room to apologize.  Her attack was so bad she scratched her arm until the first layer of skin came off. 

Yesterday, I was anxious the entire day.  The puppy and I met Madelle at the bus stop.  She was smiling and chatting to the neighbor girl.  We discussed her day and everything sounded good, minus her being shushed by a girl and having to put up with a boy she doesn't like.  I thought we had another win.  She saw her therapist at five and still she was good.  I asked if I should skip a meeting.  She assured me she was good.  When I came home, she was stressing.  She didn't want to go to school.  The negativity in the house poured down on us.  I got in my pajamas and we laid down in the living room.  The puppy snuggled with her.  I handed her a Rosary, though she didn't want it.  Together we prayed a decade and I finished on my own.  She finally went to bed.

This morning I worried.  How was I going to get her to school?  It felt just like the end of the year when she refused to go back the last couple of days.  I prayed.  I was/am angry.  We seem to be doing everything right.  Why are we still struggling?  When I woke her up, it took longer than usual.  Twice she mentioned not wanting to go to school.  I ignored the comments.  She was a bit snarky about breakfast, but when we walked to the bus stop, she acted normal.  She got on the bus. 

I am left drained.  I am uncertain.  I am stressed.  I don't know how much longer I can carry on with the mess.  A kind friend said I was the perfect Mom for Madelle.  I am trying, but it isn't with a gracious heart.  I would love to run away.  I want to explode and shake some sense into Madelle.  Get over it already.  With these thoughts, I don't think I am a good mom.  Hopefully, I will be good enough.

Joy

The window, open wide, lets in the fresh moist air.  Yes, I see the haze of smoke and I hear the sound of traffic interrupting my music, but the joy of being back in my writing room is overwhelming.  I look out my window to see the beginnings of my steampunk garden.  I can envision high bush cranberries next to the fence with flowers in front of them.  I already have a copper colored yard ornament in the grass clippings that is mulching the area to be planted next year.  A black tarp lies on the ground where I hope to put a small patio of rocks that will have the shape of a gear on the floor.  On top of the tarp rests a huge round ball (a composter in reality) that I am painting a metallic rust color.  I will embellish it with some fun cabinet knobs to make it a piece of yard art.  In reality, I also see my pathetic, nonexistent vegetable garden, dead strawberry bed, and a pile of yard debris.  My joy, though, fills me with hope.  I have made progress in the yard again this year.  I still have the fall to continue my work.  Next year, I will continue my vision.

Through the turmoil of Madelle being sick, I gave up my special room.  I allowed Madelle to spend her days in solitude.  I am sure many people would disagree with my decision.  They might think I gave up too much or she needed more time with others.  I felt she needed rest.  I used my husband's computer in our bedroom instead.  I didn't mind.  But, I also didn't realize how much my room suits me. 

I am so excited to be back within the plumb and grey walls.  I am surrounded by family pictures and literature.  I have my favorite novels and writing books in the case next to my desk.  On the walls, I have "Gone With the Wind", "Star Trek", James Dean, old 45's, "Doctor Who", and "Firefly."  I have two pictures waiting to be framed of Grandma Hedahl and Great Aunt Erma that I found in my mom's old pictures.  I think the old black and whites were taken in the 1940's or 50's.   I also have a ton of trinkets that my muse loves.  A candle flickers.  I still have to dust and vacuum.  I also have to get two televisions out of the corner.  One is waiting for my son to move into his new apartment.  The other will be sent to the Good Samaritan next month.  The puppy sleeps at my feet.  A folding table is clutter but will be used for a new scrapbook project.  Life is beautiful!!!

Fiction Writing

With the days getting shorter and school starting, I feel the pull to work in my gardens 24/7 while the weather is still good.  Like Vilenok, I am sore everywhere from the work.  I do envy her though because she doesn’t have arthritis adding to the joint pain.  My work is also taking forever!  Hopefully she will get enough done to satisfy the board, as I hope I get enough to satisfy my board of one, ME.

 

Argora and Vilenok

Walking into Vilenok’s kitchen the day after her friend’s mother left for the orc caverns, Argora sucked in her breath.  Her friend sat at the table with her head on the flat surface.  The dwarf rushed over and shook the thin shoulder.  Vilenok lifted her head as if it took all her energy to do the task.  Black circles lined her eyes and sadness filled the depths.  Argora reached out to feel the orc’s forehead with the back of her hand.  The skin felt normal.

“Are you sick?”  She picked up the cup next on the table and refilled it with coffee from the stove.  Grabbing a second cup from the cabinet, she poured herself a cup and doctored the liquid up with honey.

Vilenok rubbed her elbow.  “No, I don’t think so.  I am exhausted.  After my mother left yesterday, I started working on the backyard.  The neighborhood board will be here to inspect in five days.  For hours I clipped.  My knees, back, hands, shoulders, and elbows ache.  How do you do all this work daily without falling over dead.”

“Dwarves are made for such work.  I would feel just like you if I were forced to run for long stretches like I see you do as the sun comes up.”

“You have seen me run?”

“Yes, and I could never do that.”  Argora took a sip of coffee and shuddered.  She should have added some water.  “How about we go look at what you did yesterday.  I hope you didn’t kill everything in the backyard.  I wanted to move some of those plants to the front.”

Vilenok grinned with her fangs popping out from under her upper lip.  “I thought you might want to do that.  I only cut the weeds and flowers.  I left anything that had some sort of fruit or vegetable.  I only want productive plants that serve a purpose, not frilly pretty pests.”

“Well, the problem with that is most fruits and vegetables flower before the crop begins to grow.”

A frown crossed Vilenok’s face.  “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry.  I am sure that I can spare seeds or plants from my gardens with anything you might have unwittingly lopped off.”  Argora stood.  “Shall we get started?”

They walked out the back door.  The brittle air of an early fall pinched at Argora’s nose.  She wasn’t ready to put her gardens to bed.  Winter in the human world kept her inside.  Homesickness cloaked her spirits, until she noticed that back corner of the garden.  With quick choppy steps, she reached the pile of debris.  Sifting through the leaves, she groaned.

“You cut up all the strawberries.”  Argora shook a velvety green leaf at Vilenok.  “I would think you know what strawberry plants are.  They grow wild in the hills.”

“My sister did the foraging while I battled with the boys.  In my clan, I was the best of the females, so I wasn’t given the task.  I ate them on the march, but I didn’t pay attention.”

Argora looked at the patch.  The previous owners of the property failed to use fertilizer and neglected the weeds even before they sold to Vilenok.  The dry ground left the stubble that remained look brittle.

“I guess I will let my strawberry runners take root the rest of the season.  If we are lucky, I can have ten to twenty baby plants for you by mid spring.” Argora pulled to small shovels from the bag she brought from her house and handed one to Vilenok.  “We need to get to work.”

The short tubby woman lowered herself down.  She plunged the plant weapon into the ground loosening the roots of weeds and strawberries alike.  Vilenok watched her for a moment.

“Why can’t we just leave it?  The height is all uniform with the grass.”

“The board is going to frown with our plan to turn this all into lawn.  If it is a lawn with weeds, they will really be upset.  We need to get all this out of here and then seed it with grass for a uniform green and height.”

“This is going to take forever.”

Mental Illness - Depths of Despair

Parenting, though more often than not, a joy, runs a sword through your heart at different points in life.  This year I felt the sword plunge into my chest a number of times.  My body racked with sobs or numbed in helplessness or believe it or not, both at the same time.

The first time I took Madelle to the hospital was just three days after we lost a dear family friend, 16 years old, to cancer.  The week was so surreal.  A sweet angel left this earth and we were fighting to keep our angel with us.  Madelle went to see her therapist.  Before the session finished, I was directed to take Madelle to the emergency room due to suicidal thoughts.  The day was beautiful and bright, but darkness seeped through everything.  My baby wanted to die and my friend’s baby was dead.  How do you wrap your head around all of that?  I called my husband to meet us.  While we waited, I cried.  I prayed.  I asked for all types of intercessory (from saints and angels) support, even from our newly deceased friend.  I asked all of heaven to pray for Madelle, our family, and our friends.

Somehow we made it through that first visit.  We were given options of sending her to a long term hospital or seeing a psychiatrist.  We opted for the latter, but we feared more might be needed.  Our days were filled with fear.  We constantly lived in a state of worry, fear, and vigilance.

One night a huge panic attack swept Madelle to the brink.  We were terrified.  The weather was frigid cold and she laid out in the side yard.  Her dad placed a blanket over her and we waited.  For thirty some minutes, we prayed.  I went through her entire room for the millionth time, looking for objects that would hurt her.  As we were about to take her to the hospital via our car or an ambulance, she came back inside.  I thanked God that day for text.  One short message and many people were praying for her.

The second and last trip to the hospital was at night.  As a family, we drove through town to the emergency room.  I remember Madelle wanting to feel good.  She really wanted to be admitted to Shodair.  We didn’t want that.  The therapist on call informed us of no beds.  We could take her out of town.  In the end, we took our baby back home.  I don’t remember sleeping much that night.  In fact, it might have been one of my nights sleeping in the living room by her bedroom.

With this last visit, we found out Madelle was hearing voices and seeing shadows.  I feared the worst diagnosis.  When he told me that she needed to go on an anti-psychotic, the fear on my face must have been glaring.  He said that all of this was normal for complicated depression.  His reassurance helped, but I didn’t breathe normally for another month or two.  For the last couple of months, Madelle’s meds have been working.  There are no more voices and shadows.  We are still dealing with panic attacks and her disdain of social activities.  She doesn’t like to leave the house.  I worry about school, but as the song says, “One day at a time, Sweet Jesus.”

Pursuing Knowledge

Last week I failed to post because I was in the North Country sawing down trees and attending a car show.  I was putting on my redneck boots and enjoying some away time.  This week I have been working on a lot of non-fiction, short story fiction, and poetry writing.  Or should I say playing? 

I read a blog post yesterday that talked about how to get started with writing after taking a break.  The writer said that many people make the mistake of saying they have to get back to work which makes the task very daunting.  I have been doing and feeling just that, daunted.  He said instead we must play.

Hum, that leads me to another problem.  I have lost my play.  This summer has been emotionally draining for a number of reasons.  One of the reasons I have written about is the struggles with my daughter and her mental illness.  Playing is not in my vocabulary all that much.  Instead, I work with her and try to make life a little easier which tends to zap my whimsical side of life.  Of course, the fear of what the school year has in store for us is also causing me to struggle.  My poor muse has run for the hills because life is a little too difficult for her.  In fact, she ran away last February which is why my novel is nowhere near being completed.

This week I haven’t even opened the file of my novel.  I am hoping next Thursday, when the daughter goes back to school, that I will be able to open the file and play.  In the meantime, I will continue to write my morning pages, play with paint, garden, write a poem (maybe), and relax the rest of the summer.