More Than Just a Fish post

I was just thinking about my son, really about all three of my kids.  This poem suits them all so well.  As a parent it is always hard to cut the line and set them free.

Back in 1996 I was a high school English teacher.  Right around 150 students moved through my classroom every day.  Most of them probably had no idea how much I cared about each of them as individuals.  It was actually that throng of high school students which inspired my poem.  I had no idea how it would be so infinitely applicable to so many people in my life.

It is so easy for all of us to think we are all fish.  We must be the same.  The truth is, we don't have to force ourselves into the mold.  We can be more.  We can be our own person.  Never let someone else hold you back because of their limited expectations.  You are a child of God, a heritage which offers you infinite potential.

For today, that message is above all for my exceedingly un-fishly son.

ONE post

There never was a doubt in my mind that my parents truly and deeply loved each other.  They were human and had their rough spots, but even during the worst of times I knew everything would be okay with them in the end.  It was one of the greatest gifts my parents, any parents, could give to their child.

Now I'm married.  I've been married for a long time, never divorced, never separated.  The relationship I have isn't the same as my parents.  Each couple has their own unique dynamic.  Oddly enough I recently realized my husband and I had both gotten so deeply into the habit of doing things to protect each other, to make life easier for the other, that we'd created a rift of sorts.  He didn't understand what was going through my head and vice versa.  It was kind of funny how it turned out to be the two of us trying to protect each other.  Is it possible to love someone too much?

Depression destroys marriages almost every day.  More than seventeen years ago I had a clinical psychologist tell me she was utterly flabbergasted that I was still married based on my extensive mental illness history.  It takes a lot out of a spouse to deal with mental illness.  The person who is depressed doesn't see things for what they are.  From both sides blame gets laid on the spouse where it doesn't belong. 

A lot of doctors who have their wives working for them as office managers end up in divorces as well.  I suppose we've got a lot working against us.

On the other hand, when we made our marriage committment and were sealed in the temple, we were sealed to be with each other for eternity.  It was a very deep, sacred vow, a promise the two of us made with God.  So when times were hard, leaving the other wasn't an option to consider.  We held on no matter what.  We're still holding.  Although he is not perfect, I married a very good man who loves me in spite of me, exactly the way I love him.

My mother died soon after I wrote this poem.  I miss her.  My dad misses her.  According to our beliefs my parents will be reunited in the next life.  Their union will last for eternity.  What a beautiful blessing that is.

There's a Woman in the Grocery Store post

Stress and change seem to be big factors in the depression equasion.  Many people will experience some degree of depression after someone dies, they move to a new place, take on a new job, lose a job, and so on.

My husband was in school for more than ten years.  He had a hard time deciding on an occupation.  Oddly enough he fought against his desire to become a doctor because the task was so time consuming.  In the end, however, I adamantly told him to go ahead and do it.  I wanted him to do whatever he needed to do to be happy.

It was hard.  After I miraculously managed earning my degree I was able to teach high school for a few years, but after the birth of our second child, we decided I needed to stay at home and be a mom.  By then my mental health was already an issue we had to consider.  On top of that, if I did get a job it had to be a pretty good one to compensate for all the child care we would have to pay.  Fortunately, I was able to find work I could do out of my home.  My husband was awarded grants for his schooling, but what we had was never enough. 

Still, the one thing I did have throughout it all was the hope in knowing someday it would end.  Someday he would finish school and be a doctor.  Not all women have that specific hope.  The poem was actually for them.  I saw so many hopeless women.  But any woman - any woman has the potential for hope - to believe in herself and her future.  All I wanted was simple things.  After a very long time, miraculously I got them.  Hope is essential for anyone to survive adversity.

BE post

I wrote this poem at a time when my beautiful daughter was extremely suicidal.  It is one thing to be in the midst of your own emotional turmoil.  It is an entirely different matter when the person suffering is someone you love.  All of a sudden so many things I'd been obsessing over no longer mattered.  I needed her to hold on if for no other reason than to know that I truly, deeply, needed her to be.

Although I initially wrote it for my daughter, I came to quickly realize how it keenly applied to my husband and other two children.  They were all as essential to me as the air I breathe.  I desperately wanted them to know how important they were.

You think so little of yourself when you are depressed.  You imagine that the would would be a better place without you.  I knew all too well exactly how my daughter was feeling.  She did not want to exist any more.  The pain was too much.  But killing yourself is in fact, a selfish act.  We all have people around us who need us.  I have two dogs that would fall apart if one of us were hurt.  If my dogs care, how much more do the humans feel?  Never allow yourself the luxury of missjudging your own value.

The Gnat post

Life isn't fair.  It never was, never will be.  But what do we want?  We want fair.  At least that's what we think we want.  You look at something as simple as a gnat, this creature that can barely manage sustaining itself in the air, and it doesn't seem fair that God would have bothered enough to give it of all things, the ability to fly.  Why not me?  Why am I tethered to the earth by gravity?  Why are so many other people going about their lives seeming so happy, so completely at peace with themselves, while my mind is in a constant struggle against itself, fighting for literal survival?  It isn't fair.  Sometimes it makes me angry. 

Even then, I couldn't allow myself to be the malicious one who killed the innocent gnat.  I knew better.  I knew God had given me gifts of my own which others could as easily envy.  So, rather conveniently, I allowed Martha to do the job for me.  Fictious as she is, I like her for her spunk.

Suicidal Thoughts Post

This poem is like a pivotal fulcrum for me. One morning probably around two months after my daughter had been born I was getting ready to go to work. My son and new baby both had to be dropped off at the daycare home. I was faced with the overwhelming task of picking up the mess left behind by a substitute teacher who had unexpectedly had to stay weeks longer because I had ended up hospitalized for postpartem psychosis. That morning it felt like too much. I'd bought a box of Unisom pills and was seriously thinking about downing the whole lot.

Then I looked at my children, two beautiful, innocent children who would never understand why mommy was asleep, why mommy wasn't going to ever wake up. It was something they didn't deserve, something I realized I could not allow to happen. So in spite of the terrible pain, the fear, that tremendous want to no longer be I chose to go on.

Sad as it may seem, it is a message of hope. I knew I had a reason to hold on even when I could not see how there could ever be any hope. That vision I had of my children was a gift from God, reminding me of what was most important.