Well I want to talk today about a pillow epilogue. We all privately talk about it in our quiet haven but it usually does not become a source of theatrical agony. We had a friend staying with us for a few nights. He took one of the boys rooms and so a jolt of anguish immediately overtook my emotional emphatic child who was forced to share a room with his brother. You see we also took one of his pillows. The one he puts in between his legs. We have couch pillows and pillow pets but they were not his traditional pillow. We needed to use his for our guests. We went through a complete meltdown before I finally left the room completely exhausted and sick at heart. About 30 minutes later I went in to check on him and he was sitting in the same position with the same somber look. I sat with him and found out the main reason for the meltdown was he gets bruises on his knees if he doesn’t have a pillow. How do I explain to a child who sees life through his own needs and desires that there are other simple ways to fix a pickle? At !0:00 at night there isn’t. We laid his head down and he finally closed his eyes.
But, where do those emotions go? He did not get to let them out. How can he continue to live inside of his own head and not feel overwhelmed. I want to know what to do about it when we do talk. How can we describe our feelings and have a release of despondency? How does he feel about my Lupus and watching me change day after day? I am not okay with just explaining my symptoms and living this life. He is described as having a mental illness. No matter how you try to get around it, you can’t. Even your family cannot be truly honest with you having astigmatism like that. When he is mad it is not always because he is erratic. It is a real emotion focused on his judgement. How can we help? We could possibly slant our point of view and become nonpartisan to the simple pillow problems. He got through the night now I just need him to get through the emotions.
“Don’t just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong”(Romans 12:9). Why is it so hard to love some people? My mother-in-law, the one who gives me a pounding headache. The one who has the un official authority to say and do anything was ringing the doorbell at my own humble house. I could hear her come in and I smelled the spring air fly through the house like a wave of sweetness. I heard her uneven steps as she navigated over the things on the floor. As I began to apologize for the jeans hanging on the back of the chairs and the shoes scattered around, I forgot about the dishes in the sink. I quickly tried to make it to the sink without her realizing what I was about to do. Her laughter filled the house as the hot water bubbled up and over the soap-filled dish pan. She put her arm around me and reminded me her house was not always perfect. It certainly did not make her a failure as a mother. And she said,” I don’t think that of you.” There is an admiration that comes after we have tried to do another persons job.
When I was a child everything I did had to be perfect. The anxiety that led up to an event was gut wrenching. I did not want ny father to make fun of me or talk down to me. It was my sport and I was sure I knew what I was doing. But I was so used to it. Did he ever tell me good job? I can’t remember. I am sure at times he did. Even now I am the last one out of four girls that he calls if something happens…good or bad. is he embarrassed of me. Does he not trust me? After my introduction to my wild side that REALLY changed things. He did not trust my professional opinion or ask for advise on anything. I always got a lecture on why I needed help or money. There was always a fight. He always had to tell me what I was doing wrong. Not in a good learning experience, but a bad hurtful one. I loved him but now I don’t want to be around him. I needed him. Not to fight, not for him to dominate the conversation but to teach me, to love me. Was I a disappointment? Is that why I am not good at much? Am I teaching my kids that? Am I raising my kids wrong. That is the opinion I get from him.. Why does he hate me so much? How do i break the cycle. Is this why I feel so guilty after I know that I have done some thing wrong? It is like I can never get it back. It will never disappear and it leaves me with a big gushing hole in my heart. Is this why I can’t forgive? It is a horrible feeling to feel as though you are not good at the things a parent expects you to be.
As I go through my seasons I have to remember that God commanded us to love our enemies . I pray that he will teach me how to love difficult people.
Why is depression so hard? It arrises when the truth is not real. It is when you are alone with yourself and you do not like who you are. It is when the weight of the world tumults down on you and the innermost fragments of your head is so broken you do not know how to fix it. All of your emotions are blurred in a big bubble and everything you feel gets stuck together. You cannot differentiate between happiness and sadness. It is a massive sentiment that lingers until one by one the bubbles burst and a revelation unfolds to reveal whatever emotion stands strong that day.
These monsters. Do you mock in that delight? One more day you have my mind and my heart. To live where every step becomes so much to bear. But God keeps me here. There must be a reason I am so weak? I have no one who could understand and I am not strong enough to do this by myself. So, I sit here and I hope God is listening.
You know what feels the worst is knowing that you have screwed up your life. I will never have any opportunities to excel at the gifts I was given. I ruined them.. there is no way to get them back.. I want to be a good person but as a mother there is always something to do, fix or make.
But then all of that changed. I began to yell at the boys for fighting over the XBox because someone was in someone elses room. I threw up my hands in disgust. I sat on the couch and put my face in my hands. The boys quickly came in and in their most serious voice asked me why I was so sad. I don’t know I said I guess I just need extra special love from you now. They brought me a pillow, propped up my feet, brought me my water and with a big hug told me thank you for doing this for us every night.
Nobody knows the struggle I am going through. But It can never be too late to excel at the gifts God has given you. Will it help to talk about my past? Will it help to talk about all the wrong in my life? I like to see stories of recovery don’t get me wrong but I hate to hear condescending people who think they could never go back to being a user. Watch yourself because you will fall again. A changed life gets a person’s attention every time. (Liz Curtis Higgins)
I hate the misology of victim. But, I am a casualty of my mind. My mind does not fully flower and bloom at the sight of happiness. I sit in my gutter and look up at you with excitement at every word you promise. But your promises are fake. They push me down deeper and deeper and i can see no way out. Where did I go? I want so much to be powerful again. I want to love and feel life again. I hear your promises and I know now they are not true. You are laughing at me but in your own sincere way, I want to climb out of this madness but I can’t. What is there to fight for anymore? I feel powerless while everyone around me looks so impressive. I am stuck in this cold wet abyss. Can anybody see me? What is going to happen to me? My voices yell at me, but I count on them so much. I hate them. What is the truth? Why can’t anyone tell me it is going to be alright. Would I believe them?
I am crying out in pain. Why is nobody listening? Why is nobody helping me. I don’t want to be like this but I have isolated myself. I have no true connection with anyone. When my family reaches out for me they are fearful. They act as if I am going to fall apart. Have they seen this in me to many times before? Have I scared them so much with my outbursts that I am a stranger to them? I need them so bad but they have seen this so much. It gets worse the longer it goes on. They love me but I am so angry that they cannot see my pain. Why can’t they feel what I feel? Why are they not like this? I am now changing. I can feel it. My emotions get raw and go somewhere. They hide deep in my head and now I am numb again. My anger turns to rage and my voices are mocking me. Do they want to hurt me or do they just hate me? I push them way back and pull my pleasant disguise forward until the pressure of the pain bursts wide open again.
Lupus and drugs can bring devastating results. Please feel free to contact me or get help if you are experiencing any symptoms of depression.
What do the children see?
A shaggy blonde boy with dirty fingernails and huge bright blue eyes smiling as he is making a hotdog. His parents are yelling in the background over misbehaviour by another child. He deflects this screaming and runs out to join his friends who are waiting outside to play. Children begin to develop road maps in the brain. Patterns they embed to help them feel safe in times of trauma. These safe places become a place to hide. Children begin to stop questioning and growing because they run to their safe place which offers no way for them to express their own views or ask questions. The children finally separate. They learn no one is in control. The parent’s authority and credibility are now threatened.
What do the children see?
In school we teach children answers to questions with questions. We are taught to criticize books and research. Criticism becomes the center of learning in their educational world. They become very skilled at it. Therefore as a teen we criticize everything and criticism becomes a way of finding answers and questioning beliefs. But on this thin line is also cynicism. It draws conclusions but it trashes beliefs. We must keep them questioning and thinking. Performance is empowering and they must be encouraged to express their own views so their fears are numerous but warranted.
What do the children see?
In Nick Pollard’s book, “Why do they do That”, he talks about the parallels of drugs and pain. We all reach for the Tylenol or heroin in some cases, but when it wears off the pain is greater. Many will try other ways that don’t work. The pain remains and grows. It is much like emotional pain that cannot be taken away by itself. It can be scary and lead to a downward spiral. We must teach our children that all pain cannot be taken away. They must live through it to grow, thrive and transform.
What do I want my children to see?
A love so deep that even in silence they can still hear my voice. I would love to hear your reaction or responses. Please let me know what you think.
My eldest son is very protective of his little brother. I will find his brother on the floor in his room after a nightmare. He is loving and very sensitive but at times you would not know that because it takes him longer to process directions. My younger son just hangs on to his brother’s shirt tail as if he is feeling out the situation before he acts. Are they scared of me? Saturday morning brings the normal traffic. The smell of coffee and pancakes.
This is my happy. It trickles out of a crack like a slow leak. It is not completely filling up but it immersing just enough to feel favorable. As valuable as I feel right now as a mother my peacefulness swiftly changes.
I begin to navigate the day. I sit at my desk with an expectation I await for daily. It is a little piece of accomplishment but every day I wait. I have no control over it. It haunts me as every day passes. I let it consume my animus like a black cloud that hovers over desenegrates and fills me up again with dark ash. Just as peaceful as it began it ended. I am now sensitive to every noise that encompasses me. The boys running in and out of the house. My husband tinkering with whatever is on his agenda today. We are now going to start the pumpkin carving. My controlling nature does not mix well with their screams and gentle laughter. I know they feel my tension through the fun. I still have my cloud but as my activities change and increase the trickle of glee might start to drip again. I am controlled by my surroundings and the things I cannot change.