The Faith & Courage to Keep Going

I haven't blogged for awhile, and there is a reason for that. I want this blog to be a place with uplifting messages, a place to find comfort and reassurance. But it has been some time since I could come up any words to portray that message, and then more time to figure out how and if I could share this. As difficult as this will all be to share and admit, I feel that it is important that I do.

Theodore Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the thief of joy," and, man, is that ever true. No good comes of looking at the things others have that you do not.

After Max died I couldn't go see friends who had babies around the same time or right after. All I could think of is how old my baby would be, what he could be doing if he had been a healthy baby like them. The ache of seeing these little babies that were the same age as mine was too much for me to handle. I felt so much guilt for not being able to, but I couldn't help it. 

I've tried to keep a positive attitude throughout our journey to have a family. Of course, I've had my up and downs during years of infertility and my miscarriage, but a darkness seemed to slowly envelope me in the wake of Max's death and I sunk below depths I wasn't sure I could make my way out of. I looked around at the happy families with their beautiful healthy children, and I ached for my baby boy and for the joy of a family. I felt the pain of "unfair" and jealousy for what others had been blessed with. Despite what I knew about Max and his special mission, my broken heart outweighed my knowledge and I just wanted my baby back.

In the beginning, the grief had been difficult, but manageable. But as the months waned on, it just seemed to get harder and harder. I began to hear the voice of self doubt whisper to me that I wasn't worthy of a family, that I hadn't been a good enough mother, that I would never have the family I dreamed of. It felt like my heart grew more and more broken, instead of healing. Just as I would try to mend the pieces, they would crumble to dust in my hands. My chest began to feel like a gaping hole that would never close. Between the grief of loss and postpartum depression, I began to feel nothing but miserable about my life without Max. I felt hopelessly unhappy. I saw no way for us to ever live "happily ever after" after what we'd gone through. I wondered how I could ever escape the darkness of grief and the pain that I felt. I spent many of my days in bed and in tears, aching and, ultimately, just wishing I could die and be with Max again. I would find myself haunted by suicidal thoughts constantly in my moments alone. The longer I kept my feelings to myself, the more unhappy and hopeless I began to feel. I couldn't find the courage to admit to anyone how horrible I was feeling. 

People have come to expect me to be this positive, uplifting, ever-see-the-bright-side person. So, I felt like I had to keep up that act with everyone, everywhere. But it started crushing me.

My counselor suggested I get further evaluated by the psychiatrist to try a new medication. So, I started there. I prayed that I would have an easy transition and that the Lord would guide the doctor to put me on the right medication to help start making me feel like I could manage again.

Finally, I told Tyler about how bad my depression had actually become. I was embarrassed to admit my defeat to him. But, as he always does, he wrapped me up in his arms and comforted me. We prayed together for peace, help and guidance to navigate both of us through this difficult time, and to know what we should do to help me find my way out of the pit of darkness I felt I was in.

As always, it never fails to amaze me how the Lord so often blesses us through others. In church the following Sunday, a sister in our ward taught a powerful lesson I will never forget as long as I live. To me, it felt as though the entire room had vanished away and she was teaching only me. Her words struck my very core. She relayed her own story about trials and experiences that had lead her to a dark time in her life. And as if God was speaking directly to me through this amazing woman, she spoke the words I needed to hear and gave me the answers to my prayers. While I had been struggling so much, I thought that I had dug myself into a pit of hopelessness I would never be able to climb out of. She shared that she when she had reached such a time in here life, she had heard a voice declare to her, "If a seed of faith can move a mountain, it can surely fill the deepest hole." As she bore her testimony of that experience, a light began to peak in through my clouds of darkness and I began to see pillars of hope again in that very moment. 

As I began to actively seek that light and turn that hope into renewed faith, I began to feel my small seed of faith fill my deep hole. As time went on and my new medication also started to take effect, I slowly began to climb out of my pit and out of the darkness. 

Each and every day takes faith. Faith in the Lord, faith in myself, faith in the future and faith in each day. Is it easy? Not always. Some days it is so hard just to get up out of bed. I think, it would be so much easier to give up. It takes strength and courage just to keep going. But with a little bit of faith, I promise, it will start getting better.

Gordon B. Hinkley said, "In such hours of darkness there has shown forth a light, steady and certain, to sustain and comfort and bless." That light is the gospel of Jesus Christ. His perfect love, His infinite sacrifice, His faith in each of us even when our faith in Him dwindles. He is the truth and the light. When my faith is steady and strong in His redeeming power, I feel lifted up by His glory. He loves me. He doesn't doubt me, even when I, shamefully, doubt Him. We are never alone, if we can just believe in Christ. His atonement meant that He took on all of our griefs, sorrows, pains, losses; everything that has ever and will ever break our hearts broke His first. He knows us. He knows that pain and He wants to take it from us so we can hurt just a little less. It is the most beautiful part of His gospel, the most beautiful gift He could give us. 

And so, with faith we keep moving forward. We keep hoping and believing that something better must be somewhere up ahead. In the meantime, we seek out the joy that surrounds us right now. And, if we just look, we can find so much of it. Despite all the hardships we face each day, there are always blessings. That is the thing I know most to be true about my Heavenly Father, no matter what trials He allows us to face, he never leaves us empty-handed when we are faithful. With our most difficult trials come abundant blessings, if we can just have the faith to see them. If we can just stop worrying about "happily ever after," we might realize how happy we could be right now. We just have to find the faith and the courage to keep going.

XO 

There's Nothing Weak About Struggling with Mental Illness

I have had depression and anxiety since my adolescence. I battled with an eating disorder as a young adult. Endured infertility for 4 years before finally having a son, and lost him 5 weeks later. I'm 6 months postpartum and my mental health is far from stable. At this point, I don't even know what is my normal, what is grief or what is postpartum depression. It's probably all of the above! All I know is that it is awful. 

And before all you naysayers start listing off how you think I can turn my frown upside down -let me fill you in. I work out 60-90 minutes 4 to 5 days a week. I eat healthy, most of the time (Hey there, National Donut Day). I say my prayers and I read my scriptures. And guess what? I still have a rough time pulling myself out of the abyss to get out of bed every morning. Some days I can do it. Some days I can summon the strength to get up early and get my crap done. But some days, too many days, I don't get out of bed until afternoon because I just cannot fake it anymore. 

And ya know why? It is because I have a disease. A mental disease. And it is just as real as if I had a physical one. I am sick of people thinking that depression is just "feeling sad." Believe me, there is a big difference between feeling sad for a day or two and feeling so hopeless you don't know how to keep living every single day. And, no, anxiety isn't just worrying about random things. No, anxiety is suddenly being overcome by irrational, heart-stopping panic in the middle of the grocery store, having to leave your cart and run home to take a Xanax and crawl in bed. 

This is a disease. I can't exercise my way out of it. I can't pray my way out of it. Do those things help? Of course! My physical and spiritual health are both major parts of my personal treatment. But those alone cannot fix it. I have to see doctors and take medicine, which means a lot of trial and error to find the right medicine. And I'll probably always need medication because there is NO cure for my disease. No one bats an eye at someone who needs to see a doctor or take medicine for physical ailments. But when it comes to mental illness, the general population suddenly thinks you need to buck up and "just be happy." Trust me, if I could "just be happy" I would!

If you haven't seen it, yet, go read Kristen Bell's essay on her struggle with depression. She's so awesome. I love her! Anyway, she wrote this powerful article about her personal experience and opened up conversation about mental illness all over the internet. She said, 

"Mental health check-ins should be as routine as going to the doctor or the dentist. After all, I’ll see the doctor if I have the sniffles. If you tell a friend that you are sick, his first response is likely, 'You should get that checked out by a doctor.' Yet if you tell a friend you’re feeling depressed, he will be scared or reluctant to give you that same advice. You know what? I’m over it."

I'm over it, too, Kristen! Let's encourage each other. Let's be there for each other. Let's stop making others feel weak for their struggles. Let's stop tearing each other down and start building each other up. Let's stop judging each other and, for that matter, stop judging ourselves. Let's stop apologizing for who we are!

"Here’s the thing: For me, depression is not sadness. It’s not having a bad day and needing a hug. It gave me a complete and utter sense of isolation and loneliness. Its debilitation was all-consuming, and it shut down my mental circuit board. I felt worthless, like I had nothing to offer, like I was a failure. Now, after seeking help, I can see that those thoughts, of course, couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s important for me to be candid about this so people in a similar situation can realize that they are not worthless and that they do have something to offer... It’s a knee-jerk reaction to judge people when they’re vulnerable. But there’s nothing weak about struggling with mental illness." 

 The older I get, the less I begin to care about telling people about my problems. I'm starting to feel less apologetic about it. It is still really embarrassing if I have a panic attack in front of anyone besides Tyler- its just so awkward when your crying and hyperventilating and you can't say why. But, really, would you blame a diabetic for having to take an insulin shot when they need it? No. So, why is it so uncomfortable for me to say, "I have to go home and take a Xanax." It shouldn't be embarrassing. I'm sick. I need medicine. Plain and simple.

I'm tired of being embarrassed of who I am and feeling less because of my mental illness. Aren't you tired of it? Maybe if we all get on board and start advocating we can erase the stigma. Love each other, no matter what. Love yourself, no matter what. If someone you know if struggling with a mental illness, encourage them to seek help. If you have a mental illness, do not be ashamed! While depression can make you feel so hopeless, there really is hope out there. Seek help. Find a good psychiatrist, talk with a counselor, discover a higher power. Use all means possible to get help. There is no shame in needing help.

XO.