Lost in Translation

From the outside I seem together and normal. I look like everything is great. I smile. I clean. I teach. I pull myself together. What you don't see is the constant battle in my head. The constant fight to feel better. The constant work it takes to put one foot in front of the other.

Don't get me wrong I have good days. More and more lately. It's getting better. The meds are helping. I am slowly getting better.
But some days
Some days I just want to quit. I really just want to give up. I want to step off this merry-go-round that we all call life.

 I hear myself crying out from inside my head but the words somehow change. In my head I hear " I give up", "I quit", and "not one more step". These voices cry out so loud it is almost deafening. Like standing in front of a freight train that is barrelling down the tracks towards me.
The voice stuck on repeat that reminds me I am failing, falling apart, and broken. Those voices tell me time and time again that I cannot and will not be OK. It tells me that this is my new normal and it will never get better.It is loud and clear.

But somewhere it get's lost in translation.
Those aren't the words I feel. Those aren't the words I say.

The quiet voice from my lips is simple

"Lord help me." "Mary pray for me" 

I turn to my Lord when I can't turn anywhere else.

You may be asking why I am writing this. There are a few reasons really.
#1. It's time we bring PPD and depression into the light. It doesn't make me weak. It doesn't make me selfish. I can't just "Get over it" I cannot just make it disappear. It's how I'm built. It's part of what makes me me in my own very unique experience. I have been dealing with depression off and on my entire life. The first time I remember feeling dark and hopeless I was young. Maybe 6 or 8 years old. 

It's an undercurrent in my life.

#2. My god is bigger than my storm. I take my meds. I take care of my family. I do the things that need to be done. My god is the only one that can heal those wounds of my heart and correct and quiet the voice that tells me I am worthless. My prayers are heard.I am loved. and I will be ok. He is my voice of truth when I cannot trust my own. He is my rock that in these times I cling to. He is everything I need. 

#3. To remind you that it's never hopeless. It's never hopeless. It's never hopeless.
I need to hear that sometimes as much as everyone else. I want you to know that if you feel as though you can't take another step or those voices are too loud to overcome or you just can't catch your breath, remember you aren't alone.
It's never hopeless. 

And most importantly,

#4

If you are reading this and you think 

Not. One. More. Breath.

Don't Give Up

Reach Out.

National Suicide Hotline

Goodbye Too Soon.

A friend very dear to me has suffered a terrible loss. A life Gone too soon. I see people saying that they don't understand how things like this happen. How can one person feel so hopeless.

I understand too well exactly how someone gives up all hope.



22 years seems like long ago and far away.
I was 14.
I was lonely. I felt like I had no friends.
I was emotionally unstable.
I was self abusive
I was anxious all the time.
I was angry all the time.
I was sad all the time.
I would cry for no reason. Sobbing.
 A friend of mine took his life over a girl. I still remember my friend Kevin telling me in the band room. I was sitting on the left hand side of the stage. He was behind me when I asked him what was wrong. He told me.

I don't remember the rest of the day.
It was as though my brain shut off and I just couldn't function. That kind of emotional disconnect can be scary for a teenager. I didn't talk to anyone about it. I was isolated and scared and numb.

It started to make sense to me. I was drowning in a giant sea of despair.

Now I know those were all warning signs but back then I had no idea that I was in the process of a breakdown.
That weekend I took a bunch of pills.
I distinctly remember the clock in the car on the way to the hospital. 5:55pm.
I remember thinking make a wish.

"Dear God, please, please just let me die"

The next thing I remember was an incompassionate doctor shoving a tube down my throat to pump my stomach. I remember talking to the woman from the mental health ward as I threw up the charcoal they were pushing into my belly. I remember her asking me if I heard voices. I remember wanting to punch her.

22 years seems like a long time.

Years later. I drove my car into the water at Jone's Beach.
Again I had lost my focus. I was getting divorced. I was loosing everything. I had no job. I had no money. I had no pride. I had just lost Emma. I was broken. I was raw. I was tired of fighting th demons that chased me all hours of the day and night. I felt unlovable. I felt lost. I felt unworthy of the air around me. I was saved by an Angel.
I was 24. That was 12 years ago.

In those 22 years I have given life to 6 amazing children.
I have married the man of my dreams.
I don't know that those 22 years have had much more impact than that on anyone but me.
But, these days I know that nothing is so hopeless that it cannot be fixed. Nothing is forever. Nothing is lost forever. It may feel dark and cold where you are. It won't always be that way.
These days I have FAITH and TRUST in His Grace and His Glory.

I make this promise to those of you reading this. I am here. If you ever feel as though you don't matter. If you ever feel like there is no way out. I am here. Talk to me. I promise I will be there.
Because I do understand.
I have been there.

This is Hard

This is hard. Parenting a child with a disability is hard. there is no real way around that. It's hard, and sometimes, it sucks. No sugar coating it.

Like when you are at church with your 8 year old in the crying room because he just can't contain himself.
When that same 8 year old tells you he hates you and says mean things because he is just a mess over not finding his favorite shoes that morning. When the entire day is a  never ending series of blow ups, explosions, walking on eggshells, and teetering on the edge because of those damn shoes. When you begin to feel like maybe, just maybe, God made a mistake giving this child to you because , seriously, You are not equipped         in any way for this. When you find the shoe in the most ridiculous place and for a second fantasize about beating the teen that put it there, with the shoe. When you loose your cool, and scream and cry as though you have truly lost your mind... Those days suck. Those days are hard.There is so much else going on and so many other kids that need your attention too.When you haven't taken a family vacation in years because money is so tight.  The stress of taking your son somewhere unfamiliar is just too much. Because , after all this time you STILL worry what people think.

It's hard. No doubt about it.

but THIS ( possible trigger warning) and THIS (possible trigger warning)
makes my heart hurt in ways I can't possibly explain.

Because as much as it sucks he s still my boy. I still love him with an incredible fierceness. Despite the days I just don't wanna... I do
Because tomorrow the sun comes up. It isn't the end of the world
No matter how bad it seems

Because, once, at 14 I really thought there was no way out but a bunch of pills. Because clinical depression CAN happen and does happen even at 14. Even when people around you don't get it and think you should be happy. Maybe someday I will tell that story.



Even if it feels like no one cares... someone, somewhere does.
Even if you think it is bigger than you... it isn't bigger than two
My faith get me through those days now. By the Grace of God I make it through those days into tomorrow