On this day I am humbled. Gratitude is too simplea word to express what I feel. It is my most earnest belief that the reason why there is hope in all things is in truth because of Christ's Atonement and resurrection.
At one time this seemed like a somewhat simplistic, unrealistic idea. There is hope in all things because of Christ? How? Wasn't it God who cursed me with my mental illness in the first place? How could I ever glean anything good or hopeful from my plight?
Then something happened that more than ever shook the foundation of my world. I found out I was pregnant for the fourth time. No one knew more keenly how very dangerous my situation was. Postpartum depression exponentially increases with each pregnancy. My last turn on that Ferris wheel had left me in the hospital. For years I had struggled to regain my mental footing. I had experienced unspeakable anguish. Countless times the psychosis nearly overcame me.
Just as every professional knew, I knew one more full term pregnancy could easily rob me of my sanity forever. It was a fate worse than death. I'd seen the mental hospital sponsored by the state. It was a cold, pale green place, ill kept with all things old and in ill repair. It was a place filled with confusion and endless pain. How could I risk such a horrible fate?
Abortion. Abortion. Abortion was thrown at me time and time again. As far as every doctor, psychologist or friend was concerned, I had no other option.
With all my heart I wanted this baby. I knew there was a child within me. Was my life more important than hers? Could I live with myself knowing I killed an innocent infant in order to save myself?
Abortion the doctors said. Abortion is your only option.
No. I couldn't do it. My situation was hopeless. Unable to live with myself if I had an abortion, I had to face that fate which was worse than death - permanent psychosis, incarceration in a state mental hospital for the rest of my life.
How could there be 'hope in all things' under such circumstances? All I knew was that God would not give me a trial greater than I could withstand. Even if in the end I died, as long as I was valliant to the best of my ability, mentally ill or otherwise, I would be resurrected and united with my family again, free from the shackles of any disease.
Why? Because my Savior died for me, for all of us. Because of Him in that seemingly no win situation, there was still ultimate hope.
In earnest diligence, I did all I could to prepare for the worst, holding fast to the hope that I just might make it through the nightmare ahead. My children needed a mother. If there was any way for me to miraculously survive, I was determined to find it.
Nine months passed. As soon as we knew it was safe for the child, I was enduced. No delivery had been easier for me. When they placed that infant in my arms, my joy was full. I knew no matter what the consequence, she was worth it.
That same day my father called. My mother who had been cancer free for well over a decade, was going in for emergency surgery. A tumor the size of a grapefruit was in her abdomen.
We had been relying heavily on my mother's help. Someone had to be with me 24 hours, seven days a week for at least the first three months. Me being alone was simply too dangerous. Like a miracle the women of my church came to the rescue. They knew nothing of my problem or the risks involved. Outwardly I appeared to be fine. It was such a difficult thing for outsiders to understand. They came anyway. For three whole months, between them and my husband, I was never alone.
It was hard. The psychotic episodes came. Sometimes I lost track of things. I was walking a very fine line. My troubles, as expected, lasted for years. But, because of God's tender mercies, because of the unconditional love which was extended to me by all of those sisters, I survived. Although they paid a price of their own, my children always had a mother.
In the mean time my own mother was braving her own battle. We had been lucky the first time for her to have survived as she had. Somehow I knew that this time the disease would eventually take her. I suppose I could have prayed for her to pull through. That is what I wanted. I did not want to see my mother die. But as the disease became worse, my mother only became better. Her earnest love for everyone around her grew. She showed valiance in everything she did right to the very last.
When the time came, our family was all together in the room with her. I offered a prayer asking for God to take her, and free her from the pain. Moments later, she passed away. Sorrowful as I was, I knew that death was not her end, only a new beginning. I knew I would see her again and that the separation is only temporary. Why? Because of Christ. Because of the Atonement. There was hope, even in her death.
So today, above all days, I need to express my gratitude. Without the hope of Christ I could have easily aborted my sweet daughter. I could have despaired and not even tried. I would not know without a doubt that I will see my mother again. There are so many more examples. I am thankful for my beliefs and the knowledge that there is hope in all things.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
No way out but through
In some situations, maybe even a lot of situations, there is no way out of the problem without going through it. For example, for days I've been glancing out at my back yard. All of our tropical plants are brown. After the unexpected freezes this year in Houston our normally green haven is mostly brown and crusty. Sigh. If anything has any hope for coming back, we've got to cut away all the dead stuff to let the living parts live.
For the longest time I've been putting off the task. Some of those plants have huge three inch spikes. No matter how much protection I put on, I know I'm going to come out of the experience bleeding. Finally, a couple of days ago the weather was decent. There weren't any more excuses I could fall back on, so I took in a deep breath and started chopping.
The first thing I discovered was that all of our cutting tools are in poor shape. Then I realized that it was oftentimes easier to simply break away the dead parts and not worry so much about cutting. After one long marathon, I finished what I could do in the front yard. Once I get going, it is very hard for me to stop.
Of course, it was the back yard that really has me rattled. We're on a corner lot. Our landscaper was overly enthused and we were naive enough to let her do whatever she wanted. The result is too much work. This isn't some simple one marathon task, more like four or five. But what choice did I have? Someone had to do it. If I waited too long the plants would die.
I dove in again. This time it was really nasty. The palm spikes were running right through my heavy duty gloves. One sank itself into my arm like a quilting needle. Another slid into the space down the side of my thumbnail. There was blood, long scratches, fire ants. At least now I know what is going to live and what we've got to replace. I did it. I'll have to do it again.
The thing is, I don't have to do it again. I could just leave things as they are and deal with the consequences. I could have ignored the problem entirely. About two months from now I'd be feeling pretty sorry since we've got an open house due around then.
There comes a time for everyone when they've got to face their demons, or they will never get to where they want to be in life. I'd like to have a nice yard in two months. We'll see how that goes. When I was in school there were times when a test came up and I wasn't ready. Ditching class only meant that I'd have to deal with more problems, plus the test. It was better to do my best at winging it on the test, to just get through the task, take a few thorns, so that I could move on with my life.
My youngest daughter just went through a monumentally difficult time. She was in the hospital for a while, missed a lot of school; getting back on top of things was a task which seemed larger than life. As usual, for her however, she forded her way onward. It meant a lot of compromise on her part - like taking tests when she didn't feel prepared, and turning in homework which wasn't up to par by her standards - hard shots for a kid who expects something better than perfect from herself. She's been a really tough trooper. She could see what she had to do in order to get where she wanted to be. You'd think her grades would have taken a hit. I suppose they did according to her standards. Instead of A++ work she's only doing A+. It looks the same on a report card.
I could give you more examples. I can't count how many times I've told myself 'The only way out is through.' before plunging into the thorns. There is no doubt that I've earned my fair share of injuries in the process. But, if I keep my eye on the ultimate goal, rather than the small obstacles which might immediately entangle me, I've found in every instance, I can not just survive, but thrive and move forward.
Conveniently, right now the window blinds are drawn. I did happen to clear the side of the yard which is more visible. From where I sit (my favorite perch), I would be able to focus more on how much has been cleared (a smart move on my part), rather than what needs to be done. The rest will get finished. Now I'm looking forward to planting flowers, moving on to the living things.
Talking can only get you so far, then you've got to do and keep on doing even if it hurts, even if it seems like things won't work. The only way it won't work is if you do nothing. Is that what you want? A yard full of dead plants? I didn't think so.
For the longest time I've been putting off the task. Some of those plants have huge three inch spikes. No matter how much protection I put on, I know I'm going to come out of the experience bleeding. Finally, a couple of days ago the weather was decent. There weren't any more excuses I could fall back on, so I took in a deep breath and started chopping.
The first thing I discovered was that all of our cutting tools are in poor shape. Then I realized that it was oftentimes easier to simply break away the dead parts and not worry so much about cutting. After one long marathon, I finished what I could do in the front yard. Once I get going, it is very hard for me to stop.
Of course, it was the back yard that really has me rattled. We're on a corner lot. Our landscaper was overly enthused and we were naive enough to let her do whatever she wanted. The result is too much work. This isn't some simple one marathon task, more like four or five. But what choice did I have? Someone had to do it. If I waited too long the plants would die.
I dove in again. This time it was really nasty. The palm spikes were running right through my heavy duty gloves. One sank itself into my arm like a quilting needle. Another slid into the space down the side of my thumbnail. There was blood, long scratches, fire ants. At least now I know what is going to live and what we've got to replace. I did it. I'll have to do it again.
The thing is, I don't have to do it again. I could just leave things as they are and deal with the consequences. I could have ignored the problem entirely. About two months from now I'd be feeling pretty sorry since we've got an open house due around then.
There comes a time for everyone when they've got to face their demons, or they will never get to where they want to be in life. I'd like to have a nice yard in two months. We'll see how that goes. When I was in school there were times when a test came up and I wasn't ready. Ditching class only meant that I'd have to deal with more problems, plus the test. It was better to do my best at winging it on the test, to just get through the task, take a few thorns, so that I could move on with my life.
My youngest daughter just went through a monumentally difficult time. She was in the hospital for a while, missed a lot of school; getting back on top of things was a task which seemed larger than life. As usual, for her however, she forded her way onward. It meant a lot of compromise on her part - like taking tests when she didn't feel prepared, and turning in homework which wasn't up to par by her standards - hard shots for a kid who expects something better than perfect from herself. She's been a really tough trooper. She could see what she had to do in order to get where she wanted to be. You'd think her grades would have taken a hit. I suppose they did according to her standards. Instead of A++ work she's only doing A+. It looks the same on a report card.
I could give you more examples. I can't count how many times I've told myself 'The only way out is through.' before plunging into the thorns. There is no doubt that I've earned my fair share of injuries in the process. But, if I keep my eye on the ultimate goal, rather than the small obstacles which might immediately entangle me, I've found in every instance, I can not just survive, but thrive and move forward.
Conveniently, right now the window blinds are drawn. I did happen to clear the side of the yard which is more visible. From where I sit (my favorite perch), I would be able to focus more on how much has been cleared (a smart move on my part), rather than what needs to be done. The rest will get finished. Now I'm looking forward to planting flowers, moving on to the living things.
Talking can only get you so far, then you've got to do and keep on doing even if it hurts, even if it seems like things won't work. The only way it won't work is if you do nothing. Is that what you want? A yard full of dead plants? I didn't think so.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Early marital advice
Just recently my daughter has been calling me on a regular basis asking for recipies. She talked about how she's been wearing herself out doing all kinds of cleaning as well. I don't know why it took me so long, but it finally clicked - she was doing the exact same thing as I did when I first got married.
When I first got married I wanted to be the most perfect wife in the whole wide world. After all, I was married to the most wonderful guy in the world. I just wanted to give him what he deserved. We were living in an attic apartment which was part of a large old home. Everything about the place was old, used, and dirty. Our bed mattress was so worn that when we got into bed we'd both roll into the middle because the springs were completely shot.
I didn't pay much notice to those issues. Being poor and not having things was part of being young and married, right? All the same, I wanted the place to be clean. Clean based upon my mother's standards amounted to immaculately, white glove clean. In a place as old as ours, that kind of clean was impossible which aggravated me a lot. It was like a constant reminder of my own inadequacies.
The other problem was cooking. My vision of the ideal home consisted of the wife who was able to cook delicious, well balanced meals every night and have it all ready in time to please my husband. It didn't matter that we were both going to school full time; both working the same number of hours; both shouldering at least an equal amount of homework; etc.
Now that I think back on the situation it seems ridiculously clear. Getting dinner on the table, washing the dishes, cleaning the house, running the laundry, were all tasks both of us had to complete, not one neurotic perfectionist who couldn't handle the fact that she couldn't do EVERYTHING perfectly.
In the midst of all this I rarely said or did anything to let my husband know I was going nuts. In truth, he was pitching in a lot. Every week he did the laundry over at his dad's place. It's just that his standards and my standards regarding certain things didn't always match up. What he thought was okay, was not acceptable to me. I didn't know how to deal with it. I hated myself for not being able to deal with it.
My daughter is a lot smarter about those things than I was when I first got married. I am sure she is far more aware of her own weaknesses than I was willing to let myself see in myself. That kind of sounds like a slander of some sort, but in truth it is a huge compliment.
I just want her to know that if she feels overwhelmed she needs to talk about it with her husband. She needs to tell him how she feels and not be afraid that he will think she isn't sufficient the way I was so afraid my husband would see me.
At the same time I want her husband to know that with all her heart and soul, she wants to make him happy. She wants to be wonder woman for him. She wants to leap tall buildings and save people from huge disasters all while looking breathtakingly beautiful, all for her husband. (At least that is how I felt.)
Every time I didn't live up to my own standards was crushing. That is something my poor husband didn't understand. I'd be crying in the midst of a mental breakdown because I couldn't do or be everything for him, totally terrified he wouldn't want me any more. He'd be completely confused wondering what on earth he had done to get me so upset.
The first year of marriage is the hardest. They say if you can get through the first three years of marriage, the chances for divorce are significantly reduced. I think back now and wonder why my husband stuck around. I guess he must have really loved me. It's the only expanation I can grasp.
So to my daughter - be smarter than me. Accept yourself for who you are. Be realistic. Talk to your husband. Do better than me.
To my son-in-law - be patient. Be helpful. Understand that what she thinks is necessary may not be what you think is necessary. You may not always be on the same page. But above all, love her no matter what. I don't think you'll have a problem with that task.
When I first got married I wanted to be the most perfect wife in the whole wide world. After all, I was married to the most wonderful guy in the world. I just wanted to give him what he deserved. We were living in an attic apartment which was part of a large old home. Everything about the place was old, used, and dirty. Our bed mattress was so worn that when we got into bed we'd both roll into the middle because the springs were completely shot.
I didn't pay much notice to those issues. Being poor and not having things was part of being young and married, right? All the same, I wanted the place to be clean. Clean based upon my mother's standards amounted to immaculately, white glove clean. In a place as old as ours, that kind of clean was impossible which aggravated me a lot. It was like a constant reminder of my own inadequacies.
The other problem was cooking. My vision of the ideal home consisted of the wife who was able to cook delicious, well balanced meals every night and have it all ready in time to please my husband. It didn't matter that we were both going to school full time; both working the same number of hours; both shouldering at least an equal amount of homework; etc.
Now that I think back on the situation it seems ridiculously clear. Getting dinner on the table, washing the dishes, cleaning the house, running the laundry, were all tasks both of us had to complete, not one neurotic perfectionist who couldn't handle the fact that she couldn't do EVERYTHING perfectly.
In the midst of all this I rarely said or did anything to let my husband know I was going nuts. In truth, he was pitching in a lot. Every week he did the laundry over at his dad's place. It's just that his standards and my standards regarding certain things didn't always match up. What he thought was okay, was not acceptable to me. I didn't know how to deal with it. I hated myself for not being able to deal with it.
My daughter is a lot smarter about those things than I was when I first got married. I am sure she is far more aware of her own weaknesses than I was willing to let myself see in myself. That kind of sounds like a slander of some sort, but in truth it is a huge compliment.
I just want her to know that if she feels overwhelmed she needs to talk about it with her husband. She needs to tell him how she feels and not be afraid that he will think she isn't sufficient the way I was so afraid my husband would see me.
At the same time I want her husband to know that with all her heart and soul, she wants to make him happy. She wants to be wonder woman for him. She wants to leap tall buildings and save people from huge disasters all while looking breathtakingly beautiful, all for her husband. (At least that is how I felt.)
Every time I didn't live up to my own standards was crushing. That is something my poor husband didn't understand. I'd be crying in the midst of a mental breakdown because I couldn't do or be everything for him, totally terrified he wouldn't want me any more. He'd be completely confused wondering what on earth he had done to get me so upset.
The first year of marriage is the hardest. They say if you can get through the first three years of marriage, the chances for divorce are significantly reduced. I think back now and wonder why my husband stuck around. I guess he must have really loved me. It's the only expanation I can grasp.
So to my daughter - be smarter than me. Accept yourself for who you are. Be realistic. Talk to your husband. Do better than me.
To my son-in-law - be patient. Be helpful. Understand that what she thinks is necessary may not be what you think is necessary. You may not always be on the same page. But above all, love her no matter what. I don't think you'll have a problem with that task.
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