Summer Vacay Blues

Last week was a pretty crazy week. It was full of cannot-miss appointments and was complicated by a virus that Jeremy fought for four days. The only symptom was a fever. Further complicating it was that he detests taking liquid medication. It's always been a struggle to get him to drink Motrin or Tylenol (Bekah, on the other hand, longs to be able to take these medications). I did discover, partway through the week, that he is able to take a pill form of Junior Motrin. That seemed to work better though he still balked at taking the medication at all.

His illness, coupled with the appointments and the steady rain for a couple of days, meant we were on pretty tight lockdown. I've discovered that's not how I want to spend all of summer vacation. We watched a LOT of TV and I let Jeremy play on his iPad way, way too much. It was just a survival week.

Bekah's recital capped off the week. It was on Saturday and she absolutely killed it. Her best friend, Bella, is in her dance class. They were always distracting one another. Bella's mom and I remarked just a few weeks ago that we weren't sure they were going to put on a cohesive performance. Alas, they were saving it all for the recital! Everyone remembered the routine and they did a great job as an ensemble.

The only bummer was that our babysitter fell through (a scheduling snafu on her part) and though I scrambled to find a replacement, Brian ended up having to stay home. We are going to purchase the DVD and have a big party (really, a party with Bekah, Jeremy, Doug, me and Brian) to watch it. I can't wait for Brian to see it because I know he's really going to enjoy it.

Meanwhile, I spent a lot of time brainstorming a blog entry and then arguing with myself in my head about whether or not to write it. I am still fighting a lot of depression and anxiety. There is a part of me that says, "self, you need to write about that because I'm sure there are other moms struggling and they would love to know they're not alone." Then another part says, "enough already, retard! Stop with all of this, pull it together and just act as if everything is fine. Nobody wants to hear you whine and complain." (As you can see, I have a few really rough neighborhoods in my head.)

The image that stuck with me is from the movie Constantine, starring Keanu Reeves and Rachel Weisz. I have seen it numerous times. There are some pretty awesome scenes. It's based on a graphic novel and it deals (in broad strokes and with a liberal bent) with the war on earth between good and evil. I am not offended by anything said in the movie. I don't think the director intended his movie to be a gospel when it comes to spiritual warfare. It's a work of fiction.

That being said, I loved some of the conversations and imagery in the movie. The one that sticks out comes at the end of the movie. Constantine (played by Reeves) is a supernatural detective/crime fighter. We learn early on that he is dying of lung cancer. He smokes in most frames of the movie.

At the end of the movie, Lucifer (Peter Stormare, who played Steve Buscemi's partner in Fargo) comes to collect Constantine, who has just committed suicide. After having a conversation with Constantine, he tries to drag him to hell only to discover that he no longer has domain over him (I know it sounds convoluted, but I'm telling you it works). In the next scene, we see Constantine's body/spirit floating up to heaven. Lucifer, angry that he's lost that soul, reaches his hands into Constantine's chest. As he pulls them out, we see they are covered with a black, tar-like substance. It drips off of his hands and seems to stain them.

(I'm sorry it took so long to explain but I really do think you should see the movie, it's really well-done.)

Every time I've considered my depression and anxiety over the past week, that's how I've pictured them. Black, sticky, heavy, gross. I picture it spilling out when I talk to friends about it. I realized that the reason depressed people don't have a lot of close friends is because of that tar. I feel like as people listen to me it starts to coat their ears and hands. It makes their shoes stick to the ground, like walking through a swamp would do, making that schlooop sound as they try to pull themselves out of it.

I imagine cleaning all of it off is exhausting, as it's exhausting to live with it coursing through my body. I don't wonder that I've lost friends over the years. I don't blame anyone or harbor ill feelings.

Quite frankly, I don't want to be friends with myself. Though it would seem like I'm just wallowing in self-pity, I can assure you that the way I'm seeing the world these days is as if the color and dimension has been taken out. Everything is flat and gray. Bekah's performance, wonderful as it was, only broke me out of this feeling temporarily before the tar slurped me back in.

I don't feel like I've anything to offer anyone. I do what I can to make sure my kids are fed, have clean clothes and basic care. We went to the library yesterday so I could enroll them in the summer reading program. Though I don't feel like it, I'm reading to them in fits and starts. Jeremy is obsessed with our iPad. Once he started feeling better, we went back to our strict 1-hour limit of playing time. He doesn't like this. He is making my life miserable for enforcing this rule.

Everything in my mind is screaming, don't fight it with him. Let him play on it as much as he wants. When he is on the iPad, I don't have to worry about him or engage with him. It's one less stream of steady questions, whining and demands. It's one less person to worry about throughout the day.

I want to leave Doug in his crib for too long. Granted, it takes him a while to take a nap and then he still takes a 2-hour nap. I have tried cutting out his nap but he's not ready for it. The point is, if he is in his crib, then I don't have to engage with him or worry about him destroying my house.

There is a play date tomorrow with my MOPS friends. I don't want to go. I am afraid that my crazy 6-year-old will trample someone's little person and it will be mortifying and we will have to leave abruptly. When I found out it was going to be inside (possibly, because of the rain) instead of outside, that made me not want to go even more. We had a disastrous experience at a birthday party recently (Jeremy was involved in a bottom-of-the-slide pile-up, where one of the smaller kids ended up on the bottom). I apologized profusely but am positive that my kids will never be invited back to this person's house.

And the real problem with this depression-tar is that it poisons everything I read and hear. Someone tonight made a comment about taping my mouth shut so I don't talk too much. I am about 60% certain it was a joke. The person's demeanor, though, didn't read like she was joking. She didn't say "just kidding" afterwards. Or did she and I didn't hear it because I was feeling so self-conscious about that one defect of mine that I hate the most--I chatter on incessantly.

So I spent the rest of the night trying to be as quiet as possible. I don't want to carry on a reputation as the one who must monopolize a conversation. I don't want to talk about my depression simply because it's exhausting to fight it every day. I don't wake up and hit the floor running. I wake up hoping I can stay in bed for another hour because we have no place to be. I wake up crabby with my kids. I wake up feeling overwhelmed with the clutter in my home that I can't seem to manage well.

I had another friend say she felt like she was responsible for my feelings. I assure you, she's not. The only person responsible for how I'm feeling is me. I don't want anyone thinking they're responsible for helping me because I think I'm at the point where only professional intervention is going to help me. I don't want to burden people who are living happy lives, with happy families. I don't want to worry that if they ask me how I'm doing I'm going to offload some of the tar. I don't want to and trust me, if I had a friend like that, I would slowly stop reaching out to her, too.

I get exhausted just thinking about it.

I don't know what the answer is. I wish I could say this was just related to my cycle, but when it's going on 3 out of the 4 weeks of the month, that's not cycle-related. That's just depression.

This is not to say there aren't brief periods (and I do mean brief) of relief. I can generally "put on a face" for about 1-2 hours. After that, it becomes too much. I can have small periods of respite where I'm able to chase Doug or tickle Bekah or joke with the kids, but even those small periods are exhausting.

So yeah, I haven't blogged because this is what it looks like between my ears 24/7. I would love to shut off my brain for like, a day, so that I could just not be aware of or think about it. (Even when I'm sleeping, I'm having dreams where people are being critical of me. That's a bit neurotic.) I would love to be able to snap myself out of this for a long period of time. Heck, for like 3-4 hours.

I guess I hope that my readers reading this will escape tar-free. Those who are feeling the same way, I hope you know you are not alone. The message in my head is that this too shall pass. There's nothing more definitive or even a general timeline, but I'm hoping it's true. And if it's true for me, then it's true for you, too.

Battle Royale

I wasn't thinking that I would write tonight. I finished a book and started and (just) finished another one. I have discovered YA Fiction and really enjoy it a lot. I wanted to read Divergent for a while but couldn't manage to get to the library. Luckily, I have friends that love to read and one of them leant me the book. 

But what I really want to talk about is the day I had. It was rough. And I'm going to talk about it by going back in time a bit. 

I started working with a personal trainer just before the start of January. It has been one of the best investments I've made in myself. I love my trainer and love working with her. 

The one fly in the ointment was my love affair with sugar. 

As you may recall, it's been mostly an abusive, ugly, co-dependent relationship. There is little that is beneficial and yet I haven't been able to quit it. 

In February, I attended a Wildtree workshop at a friend's house. There were some ladies there from MOPS that I had seen but not gotten to know. I struck up a conversation with one of my tablemates. We'll call her Bre (because that's her name). 

I'm going to go out on a limb and say we hit it off right away. She is a lovely woman and I highly recommend getting to know her if you don't already. She is funny and sharp-witted and kind. 

She sent me a FB request that night. I happened to be on FB at almost that exact moment and accepted her request without hesitation. She sent me a message worrying that it was too soon but then she was relieved to see I accepted the request so quickly. 

Over the next few weeks, I saw that she was doing a sugar fast. This piqued my interest and I started to root for her. A couple of weeks later, when her fast was over, she admitted that while she had success during the fast, she spent the two weeks post-fast having dessert every night. 

I have had many false starts with accountability partners over the past several years. I don't know why, but I thought I would ask Bre if she would like to give it a try. (As an aside, I had a huge anxiety attack just writing the message to her. She and I still can't figure out why.)

We agreed on ground rules. We were going to allow ourselves two desserts a week. She was going to have a piece of dark chocolate every afternoon. I opted out of that because I knew I would lack total self-control. 

In the beginning we checked in almost every day. The dessert nights don't have to be the same every week but for me they usually fall on Sunday and Friday nights. In between, we battled with the enemy-sugar-pretty regularly. 

I tell ya what, we didn't know each other very well before that party but we got to know each other quick. It seems like it's the bonding that would happen with soldiers in a bunker. You become close because you are both fighting a mutual enemy. 

Some things have happened as a result of this relationship. 

First, I am damn choosy about my desserts. I am not going to have a bag of M&Ms mindlessly while leaving Joseph's. I am going to pick something rich and delicious and enjoyable. 

Second, I do not feel guilty about my dessert. Whether or not my dessert night corresponds to a day I've worked out, I do not feel the slightest twinge of guilt. I sit quietly and enjoy my just reward. 

Those are pretty hard and fast rules for me. There's been a lot of freedom in those rules. 

Here are some of the benefits. 

First, I don't obsess about dessert. I know on what night I'm eating it and I know it's going to be good. I don't worry about that my kids are having birthday cake. I can't vouch for the cake and I don't want to squander a dessert night on a sub-par dessert. (It has happened and it's been very frustrating. So I stopped doing it.)

Second, my portions have shrunk. There was a Sunday when Brian and I decided to have Concrete Mixers from Culver's. I got a large, like always. Two thirds of the way through it, I realized I didn't need a large anymore. The next week we got mediums. From the beginning, one of the dessert nights was 2 chocolate-covered cannoli from Joseph's. Just a few weeks ago, I realized I don't need 2. One is enough. 

Third, (and here comes today's battle), I've come to realize that sugar is not the answer to my problems today. 

Last night, Jeremy started running a fever. This hasn't happened in at least two years. This week is one of the most hectic of my life. Lots of non-negotiable meetings and appointments. I do not have time for a fever. 

I didn't want to take him to the doctor. I was afraid as was the case with Bekah in December, that I would take him in before the infection was really showing and would have to take him back. At $20/visit (copay), not an attractive option. 

The problem was that if he needed antibiotics, I wanted to have him start ASAP. So reluctantly we went to the doctor. 

Ugh. Just ugh. 

You know it's a problem when the receptionists recognize your son as the one who (previously) ran away and was discovered in the OB/GYN part of the floor. Doug is a crazy man when it comes to escaping, so I had to wrestle him while trying to pay the copay. Then I had to monitor his movement in the waiting room, exam room, bathroom and elevator. He broke out of the exam room twice and the bathroom once. (I am beyond grateful that all of the doors in our home have doorknobs and he can't work them quite yet.) 

Meanwhile, I found out that Jeremy has a virus. Fluids, Motrin/Tylenol, rest, don't share cups. Sure, because that's the week I have planned. A rest/relax week. 

Double ugh. 

Then we had to go to Jewel. Because even though I was there the day before, I forgot to purchase milk and lettuce for our BLT sandwiches. So I had to take three people through Jewel. 

Needless to say, by the time I hit Jewel's doors, I was ready to pitch it all, buy a dozen donuts and go to town. I would have normally reached out to Bre but was too busy taming the circus. So instead I tried to take a deep breath. I thought about whether or not the dozen donuts would solve anything. I decided they wouldn't. I knew I would awake from my sugar haze in a morass of self-loathing. There's no need for that. 

Months of preparation, of texts being traded with a stranger-turned-ally, of my husband's gentle "did you talk to Bre about that?" helped me walk by the donut case and on home. 

I wish I could say the rest of the day was red-letter, I had a party for myself and rode the feeling until Brian got home. 

No such luck. 

The van dinged at me that it needed gas (a day and a half before I thought it would). I ended up buying a frozen pizza at Jewel (it's the second I've bought in a year a half, but still felt like a fail). Jeremy was so miserable and yet didn't want to take Motrin or Tylenol. Doug got no nap because the appointment was at 1:35 PM. I forgot to change his diaper and he got a bad rash. 

In short, I felt flat and defeated in the face of a victory. The point is, though, it was still a victory. I didn't drown my flat feelings in sugar. I didn't check out by snoozing off a binge. I showed my kids that sugar is not the answer to a bad day. 

I don't feel like it was a major strategic victory, but at least I didn't lose any ground. And that's something. 

Movin' On Up....

I haven't written about this subject because I felt bad. Then I realized I have no reason to feel bad and maybe talking about it will help someone.

About a year and a half ago, I got involved in playgroup through a friend at Bekah's preschool. It was a lot of fun and helped me make some great connections. We were all Christians and so the inevitable "where do you go to church" conversation came up. I found out that most of the ladies had, at one point in time, attended the same church. Many had left and were searching for new congregations to join.

I invited them to visit our church, The Chapel. It's a multi-campus church, similar to but smaller than Willow Creek. We started attending just after we moved out to Crystal Lake about six years ago. The Barrington campus (TCB for short) opened around that time and we dove in.

We have loved attending the church. We participated in a few small groups, have had all of our children dedicated there and most importantly, Brian came to Christ at TCB. It holds a lot of special memories for us.

The problem is that we are in Crystal Lake and Barrington is about 25-30 minutes away. That means that it's quite a hike on a Sunday morning. Jeremy and Bekah have made many friends there, but they all live in the area around the church. This has made it impossible to do play dates, to get to know the friends or their parents better, to do family get-togethers, etc., etc.

So last year, when I recommended my church, I did so half-heartedly. I think it's worth the drive, but it has severely limited our involvement in the church. We can attend on Sunday mornings and that's pretty much it. Brian works in Northbrook and doesn't get home until around 6 PM. That means, if there is a mid-week service or some event on the weekend, it's nearly impossible for us to eat dinner and make it by the time the event starts. Plus, we have to add on the half-hour commute to the back-end of the event. This usually translates to tired kiddos.

I love my church, but one of the ladies said something that planted a seed for me. She talked about wanting to have a church nearby so that her kids could get involved in the youth group. "Well," I said, "that won't be happening for a few years." Her response made me really stop and think. Realistically, you don't want to find a church for your kids with a great youth group as they are entering middle school. By then, people in the youth group have already known each other and formed relationships. The key is to have the kids there almost from the beginning, so they can form the long-term relationships that will only strengthen in the middle school years.

I hadn't thought of that before. I had a rough go of it regarding youth groups. My childhood church dissolved just before I entered high school. It had been a church plant and so a lot of the people went back to the "mother" church. We did not. We started a quest for a new church. It was awkward, trying to insert myself into groups where the kids had grown up knowing each other. They didn't exclude me on purpose but they were just closer by default and so it made it weird.

From that point on, I feel like God started working on me about switching churches. I might have had a conversation about it with Brian, but my memory is a little blank there. Mostly I prayed about it.

I also joined MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) at the Evangelical Free Church of Crystal Lake. I had heard fantastic things about it from a mom and daughter who were involved there. I decided though I knew only 1 person joining, I would give it a try.

It has been an amazing experience!! I fell right into things with both my table-mates and the MOPS group as a whole. I had done a Bible study at the church last summer, so I knew faces but not names and had no real relationship with anyone.

Meanwhile, we had been meeting with a small group but it started to unravel. Jeremy was the main problem. We had not started him on medication yet and so he got very overwhelmed being in our friends basement with all the other kids. He was pushing a lot, scratched one of the kids and tackled another. Usually our nights ended with me in tears and Brian taking him out to our van. Though we loved the other families, it became an exercise in futility for us. We decided, even after changing the night we met, that we would stop attending. It was a tough decision to make but absolutely the right one for our family.

I decided to step up and start serving on the steering committee for MOPS. I had a great conversation with the Director of Women's Ministries at Chick-fil-A one morning. I told her I was feeling led to bring our family over to the E Free church. She got excited and said, "do it," but then corrected herself and said to pray about it and let my husband lead us there. She did say it was okay to have a conversation with him about it and so I did.

I let him know that I was lonely at TCB. I have good friends there but geography makes it tough to get together. The kids aren't seeing anyone at church that they see at school (or anywhere else nearby) on a regular basis. What happens when they get to youth group? Are we going to want to drive them back and forth midweek? It's also an economical issue. Gas is expensive and it's tough to think about driving an hour (round trip) to church every Sunday. It's tough to not know anyone in our neighborhood that goes to our church.

He listened and nodded and agreed with me. We decided that we didn't need to make a quick transition. We serve in the children's ministry once a month. The summer is a tough time to fill spots. We wanted to finish out the season of serving and not leave our leader in a tough spot.

Further, we weren't running from anything--conflict, people, controversy, bad doctrine. There was nothing that happened at the Chapel that made us feel like we needed to make a hasty exit. The teaching is solid, we love our pastors, we enjoy the children's program, we have great friends that we have made there.

It's just not in our neighborhood. It's not really our community because we are so far (physically) removed from it.

I have to say, I was initially excited about this decision. I was glad to be closer to home, I was glad to see familiar faces and have a home church. Now I feel flat about it and I can't figure it out. I know it's the right church for us and I love it, love the pastors, love the teaching, everything.

I have decided not to trust my feelings for right now. I know that feelings are fleeting and not always the truth. I will continue to talk to God about it and see what he has to say about all of it. I am very glad, though, that Brian is comfortable there and the kids are happy. Those are bigger deals than how I am feeling.

So I'm gonna go with that for now.

Saling with Friends

I am sitting here, staring at a blank screen and not sure what to write. I was out all day garage saling. I had a good time with friends (without kids). 

My most major find was a set of six patio chairs with cushions for $20. They are sitting on my patio right now. My kids approve of them and although there are too many to fit on my patio, I enjoy them. 

Other than that, I found a bunch of books on the cheap, for both me and the kids. I didn't manage to locate any workout equipment, but I spent less money than I thought and so now I can continue to be on the lookout for what I need. 

I was only on the verge of tears a couple of times today (a victory, really) and got to eat Jimmy John's for lunch (yay!). 

On my way home I called Brian and talked with Bekah. She wanted to know what we are doing tomorrow. I'd prefer to stay in but I think we'll end up at the splash pad. 

This next week and a half is going to be crazy. We have a birthday party on Saturday, last day of school for Jeremy on Monday, therapy for Doug Monday and Tuesday, evaluation for Bekah on Tuesday, dress rehearsal for Bekah Wednesday, eval for Doug on Thursday, therapy for Jeremy on Thursday, recital for Bekah on Saturday. 

I am not entirely sure I will survive intact. 

Depression and Anxiety, oh How I Loathe Thee (Hymn No. 182)

I don't really feel like blogging. I feel like going to sleep. The problem is, if I try to go to sleep now I'll be wide awake at like 3 AM, which is useful only if I'm taking an early flight to somewhere tropical.

Which I'm not.

I am actually sitting at my PC, which is not normally from where I blog. I have been blogging on my iPhone but I honestly hate typing with my thumbs. It makes me a bit bonkers.

I had plans for tonight but never heard from the friend with whom I had said plans, so I guess that's not working out. I am setting off to Gilberts tomorrow to garage sale with a couple of girlfriends.

I've never been much of a garage saler. Until this December, I never regularly carried cash on me. I would drive by sales and see something interesting but not be able to stop because I had no way to pay.

I have no idea what to expect, honestly. One of the friends whom I am accompanying is a bit of an expert on garage sales. She is looking for toddler clothes. I don't need kid or toddler clothes because I get all of mine at the KidStuff Resale (look us up on Facebook, it's an epic semi-annual sale).

I am mostly looking for equipment that will help me with my weight loss goals--specifically free weights and kettlebells. I am hoping to get more of an accurate workout at home. Up to this point, I've been using empty milk gallons filled with water. As I discovered at a trip to my local Meijer recently, a milk jug full of water doesn't weigh the same as a 10-pound free weight. Having the right weights would help me strength-train more efficiently. I would also love to locate some resistance bands (for the same reason).

I am mostly anxious about this whole endeavor. I have set aside some money with which to shop, but there is so much uncertainty with garage sales. I am worried that I am going to get something early then find it later for a cheaper price. I worry all the time about spending my money incorrectly (meaning, I buy something and then find out I could have gotten it cheaper elsewhere, but by the time I find out, it's too late to return the item).

Also, I have a tough time visualizing things. My friend has tried to explain how this village-wide garage sale works. It seems like a majority of homeowners with things to sell will be selling tomorrow and Friday. I don't even know how Gilberts is laid out, so I'm not sure if we will be wandering random neighborhoods or driving from one cluster of sales to the next.

I am trying to trust my friend, the grizzled garage sale veteran. I know people have raved about the wonderful things they've found at garage sales. I am fairly certain I will walk away with very little. I guess I hope I can maybe find some books for the kids (no toys, not one single toy whatsoever), but other than that I think mostly I'll be along for the ride.

Today has been a tough day. I have been continuing to battle depression but have stopped talking about it with anyone. I have lots of friends, a good number who are in my inner circle. I just haven't felt like chatting about it. Mostly I've been wanting to isolate, which is easy when I have Doug, the Destroyer of Things.

We went on a play date yesterday and from my perspective, it was a disaster. This is a friend whose daughter attends preschool with Bekah (and performed with her in last year's recital). Lovely woman, lovely home, was happy to be invited.

They installed a pool last year and so we were all welcome to swim. I miraculously found a swim diaper that fit Doug (payday is next week and I didn't want to spend $20 if I didn't have to) and a spare swimsuit (couldn't find the one he wore last Friday).

My kids have never really had swim lessons. We can't afford them. I am a former lifeguard and swimmer, so I've been trying to teach them but it's tough when it's your own kids. Doug has never, ever had a lesson. I don't have floaties for the kids because we are infrequently at large bodies of water. I am paranoid about taking Jeremy to pools. The last time I took him, he had a nosebleed that almost caused me to take him to the ER. We drove from Cary to Crystal Lake and it never stopped or slowed down. I've never taken him back to a pool because I'm afraid it will happen again.

Doug, meanwhile, has been averse to playing in the water at the splash pad and averse to being in the lake at Three Oaks. I wasn't sure how he would take to being in the pool.

The answer is not well.

He didn't want to be in the one inflatable raft I found from last year (which sprung a leak and looked pretty pathetic by the time we left my friend's house). He didn't want to be on any of the rafts. He didn't want me to hold him. He didn't want me to not hold him. He wanted to crawl around on the border of the pool. He wanted to "jump" off of the stairs. He wanted, in short, to be at once independent and demanding at the same time.

It was worse when I tried to take him inside at the end of the playdate. He was into everything. He stood on top of the piano bench, knocked down a 3-D puzzle of Big Ben, chased the cat and generally caused mayhem.

Meanwhile, Bekah didn't want to get out of the water at all. That was so pleasant, trying to pry her away at the same time as trying to keep the house safe from Doug.

To top it off, I was exhausted. I don't mean I was a bit tired, yawning from time to time. I mean I was like asleep-on-my-feet wiped out. I had chaperoned a walking field trip to a nearby park in the morning with Jeremy's kindergarten class. I would have loved to leave the pool play date and just head home, but I had pushed Doug's occupational therapy appointment to the afternoon so we could attend the field trip. Even more, the appointment was at the therapist's office instead of at my house.

I know I had at least one microsleep at a stoplight. My eyelids were heavy and I could hardly stay awake talking to Brian on the phone. I tried to interact with Doug at the therapy appointment but it didn't succeed in waking me up any more. An iced coffee from McDs didn't even do the trick. In a rare move I went home after the appointment and laid down for a nap. It was about an hour-long nap but it didn't perk me up, either.

I really was on the verge of cancelling my outing to a friend's house. I didn't think I was going to be able to stay awake. I went and had a nice time, but when I came home I literally fell asleep (in bed) mid-sentence. I do not even remember falling asleep and I certainly didn't set my alarm.

I woke up this morning disoriented but figured because my alarm hadn't rung, it had to be before 7. Nope. When I looked at my phone it said 8:34. Typically, Jeremy is off to school by 8:30. Whoops. He made it-he was late, but he made it.

I had hoped to spend the rest of the day taking it easy, but there was no milk or lunch meat in the house. I had nothing to serve for dinner and there were no pretzels left (a lunchbox staple for both Brian and Jeremy). I also had to buy more wheat berries and yeast, do some banking and then buy tickets for Bekah's upcoming dance recital.

I was not the best version of myself today and made Bekah cry several times (not really a tough thing to do) and even made Doug cry with my tirade against the bluetooth in the van. An offer made to a friend was rejected and then another friend stood me up.

It's enough to make an insecure, depressed girl reach the end of her rope. I mentioned that I've not been talking to anyone about my depression. I don't feel bad about that and though I may be prodded about it as a result of this post, I will not change my stance.

My belief is that no one really wants to hear the ongoing struggles of someone fighting an unseen problem. Further, I don't want to turn into Debbie Downer (search the interwebs for her, it will make you laugh) and become the center of conversations at gatherings. I will continue to try and act like things are fine because I have the strength to do so. I have fought this thing for such a long time and it has yet to kill me. Therefore, I'm pretty sure it's just making me stronger.

There is no self-pity here. This has more to do with some self-reflection. See, I'm not really a fantastic friend. I have a legacy of being she-who-smothers. I have a bad tendency to take hostages, to be overbearing, to make offers randomly without being prompted, to be that person with whom time drags by, to be the insecure friend who constantly has to make sure everything is okay (are you mad at me? have I done/said/been something to upset you? what can I do to fix it?).

My readers may shake their head incredulously because they've never seen her. That's okay, you will. She only has enough strength to hide for a finite amount of time. Once her arms are shaking from having to hold all of that in, it will all explode out like a can of peanuts with a snake stuffed in it.

And so mostly I sit rocking nervously, biting my nails (not really, that's gross, but I'm going more for the image) wondering just when she-who-smothers will make her first appearance. It's kind of like watching a horror movie and knowing the bad guy is waiting in the shadows. There's a heightened feeling of dread but you are powerless from trying to stop the hapless beauty queen from being slaughtered.

So here I am. I vacillate between being convinced that I'm feeling nothing but self-pity and being convinced it is actually clinical. It's really something for the professionals to sort out, but that's not something for which I have the time or money. I try to keep especially the insecurity at bay, which is actually tougher to do. I have to refrain from asking people crazy questions all the time.

I'm fairly certain I'm going to be skipping play dates this summer. Doug is just too much to handle at people's houses or at large bodies of water. I will probably be headed to the splash pad or park most of the time. Again, I'm mostly okay with this. It stinks for Bekah because she has a lot of friends who want to play. I am hopeful that I can send her to friend's houses. Jeremy, on the other hand? Ugh, don't even get me started. I fully trust everyone to take care of my son but I don't trust my son to not be himself. It's a lot of anxiety for me to sit at home and wonder at what point his friend's parent will be on the other end of the phone or text, asking me to come get him.

Yeah, I think the splash pad is going to get a lot of action from the Patronik family. You'll know we're there because you'll see me supervising Doug at the water fountain and drainage ditch--because isn't a drainage ditch more fun than the splash pad?!?!?

I am not looking to garner sympathy or concerned messages or anything from this post. I am just trying to figure out for myself how to be a mom and navigate the morass of depression and anxiety in which I now find myself. I blog because I need the catharsis, not because I'm trying to fish for help or compliments or fixes to problems. I blog because I need an outlet.

I hope other moms who read this can relate, but if you can't please recognize I'm probably not the only mom friend you have who is struggling in this way (either with depression or in trying to manage one or multiple kids with special needs). Please help me and those moms by praying for them. It is not an easy road to walk, even when surrounded by friends and family. It's an isolating thing, to have those two things (or one of the two) going on. You don't have to have pity for these moms, but please be understanding if she says she is lonely and then declines play dates. It's overwhelming to take (what other people see as) rambunctious kids to other people's houses.

The alternative, coming to my house, is not viable either. My house is literally a pit of gross right now. I don't like inviting people to my house because it's in disrepair, dirty and cluttered. I don't want people to judge me, I don't want to stress myself and my family out by cleaning for a week straight and I can't seem to get myself motivated enough to tackle any project.

So like I said, splash pad it is. (Oh, and don't think if you meet up with me at the splash pad that we will be able to chat because I will be chasing Doug over every square inch of the park.)

Anyhow, I don't feel 100% better but at least I've been able to express how I'm feeling. Hopefully sleep will not be elusive and I will be able to "prepare the face to meet the faces that I meet." Until then.