Wow, I have a blog??

I completely forgot that I had a blog! It's not that much of a shock...that I forgot. I can't seem to remember much of anything these days without writing it down, and even then I may not remember what I was wanting myself to remember when I wrote it down. I am fairly certain this is a direct effect of too much stress and my brain is shutting down/limiting function to protect itself from the ridiculously high levels of cortisol. (I just Googled it. I am partly right. And also now concerned that maybe my brain is shrinking and this is why I can't remember much and am in a perpetual brain fog that is rivaling anything I experienced when I was pregnant.) The thing is, I have to muddle through and function anyway. So I do. Because the alternative isn't an option.

It has been at least 6 months since I had a suicidal thought. And it's funny to me that it has been a relatively short amount of time given what I am going through at the moment. My mortality has been thrown in my face recently, and now,  not only do I not want to die, I want to live better and with even more intention and consideration that ever. My suicidal thoughts are never very complex. I usually think about how tired I am and how I have nothing left to contribute and will become a burden on all who know me. And then I picture something absurd like crashing my car into a concrete barrier. And then I think to myself, this is insanity and things are not bad enough to warrant action like this. So I move on with my thoughts, usually to something like wondering what we will have for dinner, because that is what life is really all about- making small decisions that have larger implications, like what to have for dinner, whether or not the car can go a few more miles on the gallon of gas left in the tank, etcetera, etcetera.

But back to living and wanting to do it better. It has always been important to be kind and to leave the world a place that is improved because of my having lived in it. It has always mattered that what I do with my days makes others' lives easier and more wonderful somehow. Above all, it has always been crucial to live in a way that aligns with my values and my truth so that I am spending my valuable time on that which I place a high priority and not wasting my time with things that will not matter in the long run. Now, I just have to be better and beat my previous version of myself at living well, being kind, and helping others. The fact that I am older and wiser than I was even just 10 minutes ago means I should be able to do this with some level of success, right?

Part of living better is about truly being in the moment, which is something I have always struggled to do as a result of an emotionally traumatic childhood. One of the gifts of said childhood was a wonderful ability to go elsewhere in my head as a way to get through difficult circumstances. But it doesn't turn off when I want it to, necessarily, so mindfulness is always a challenge. Even when I am enjoying myself and loving what is happening, I am not necessarily present. So that is an area of focus for this Life 2.0 project I'm starting.

Another tenet of living better is making sure I am not only spending time with those I love or with those from whom I can learn and grow, but also explicitly stating my feelings so these people know how much I love and value them. It is saying thank you for little things and not just gifts or actions that normally warrant a display of gratitude. It is no longer taking it for granted that people know how I feel. It is being mushy, deep, and sugary sweet.

Probably the most vital piece of Life 2.0 is being more discerning about what matters in an effort to get the most bang for my buck when it comes to time. Arguing over what to watch on television? Not important. Watching television together? More important. Making sure all of my work is done before listening to my son tell me everything I never wanted to know about the anime show he is watching? Not important. Listening to my son tell me everything I never wanted to know about the anime show and more? More important.

I might die before I get to be much older and get to the fabled "Someday" we all think about. Any of us might. My new question that I ask myself is, "Will this matter if my world ends tomorrow?" Usually, the answer is no. So I need to do the things that warrant an answer of yes.

Different Shades of Orange

Different shades, tints, and hues of orange have different meanings. For example, dark orange may represent deceit and distrust, while red-orange relates to passion, pleasure, desire, aggression, domination, and action, and a golden orange often stands for prestige, wisdom, illumination, wealth, and quality. A light orange or peach color tend to be more friendly and soothing.
From http://www.bourncreative.com/meaning-of-the-color-orange

Privacy Preferences

It's been a while since I wrote. Tons has happened, as usual, but I'm not really in the mood to go over it all.  Speaking of my mood, it has been fairly stable, save for the monthly roller coaster that is commonly known as PMS. In a nutshell, I still have the same job, same husband, same son, same house, and same dog as the last time I wrote. The differences in my life include the shedding of old things: got rid of the old car for a new one, and lost 40 pounds without making any serious effort (I'll share more about the state of my health at another time).

I read yesterday in my most favorite magazine ever, O Magazine, about one writer's way to keep journaling about her life daily without it becoming an overwhelming activity with all the qualities of a burdensome task (think: trip to DMV) instead of it being a way to relax and unwind. I stopped feeling bad about not writing enough a long time ago, but I do recognize regular writing's value, so it's worth a shot, right? It involves a synopsis of the day by creating a list of five things that happened and that matter most...a summary of the worst to the best. So I'll be attempting to do that on a mostly-daily basis (I find that in non-urgent matters, the lower I set my expectations, the more pleasantly surprised I am in the end).

Before I get to my list for the week (because I just decided, as I was typing, that a weekly list might actually happen instead of being a lofty goal), I need to speak to the recent desire for privacy that I have acquired. I don't know if it's because I'm a whopping 34 now, but I'm more determined than ever to keep certain things private for the safety of my family. (Actually, I know exactly was prompted this. It's 13 years of being married to my paranoid husband, during which roughly 12 of those years I have been a cop's wife; and as the straw that broke the camel's back, seeing the movie, End of Watch, which was good for me to see, because it affirmed a lot of how I think, but was also bad for me to see because it affirmed a lot of how I think. I have never had the whole "it can't happen to me" mentality, and now I've wholeheartedly adopted an "it's only a matter of time" philosophy that surprisingly, has been endorsed by my psychiatrist as a healthy way to be prepared.)

The Internet has made it convenient to share things with family members on the other side of the country, as well as the other side of the globe, and with friends who are all over the place. But it may be time to rethink what is shared and limit it a lot more. It saddens me, because I am not one of those people who needs privacy for the sake of privacy. Rather, I need a certain level of privacy to protect my child and others from the scary people my husband encounters in his line of work. I am irritated by the Google search that I did this morning, because it turns out that my privacy has been violated, and for the life of me, I don't know how it happened. I have to say, I have Googled myself in the past because I was curious, but for the last few months or so, it has become customary to Google the names of family members to make sure that there isn't anything out there that shouldn't be out there. (I like to think of myself as the queen of turning on every possible privacy feature available.) When I saw the pictures that should not have shown up on a Google search, I immediately went to the sites where the pictures were accessible and read through the very confusing and not-at-all-helpful directions for how to keep the pictures from appearing to the public-at-large. As I type, I have still not quite followed all of the directions, because I am still not sure to what buttons/links the directions are referring, but I will figure it out. Or I will delete all those accounts. I've already quit using Google+. I abhor the "public information" sites that collect all of the information people would normally have to actually work to find and make them readily available with a search of a name.

But enough about that (my blood pressure has risen). Here's my list for the week:

• A parent who has been insinuating I am a heartless, militant, incompetent educator sent an e-mail pretty much acknowledging an understanding of everything I've said since the beginning of the year. Said parent also gave me glowing ratings on the parent survey. (On the last round of parent surveys, I had the best ratings I've ever had.)
• My homeroom class follows the procedures I've been teaching all year without a need for my interference, and works together as a community.
• My son and I made my husband feel loved for his birthday. We made him a special poster (I use the term, "we," loosely) and got him funny cards. We also got a yummy cake from Coldstone Creamery...and I will definitely get more cakes from there in the future!
• I had insomnia. I'm tired.
• I'm excited about booking The North Pole Experience!!

Stop Thinking, Start Feeling: Take Your Hurts to Your Heart - Beyond Blue

Stop Thinking, Start Feeling: Take Your Hurts to Your Heart - Beyond Blue:

'via Blog this'

This is one of the best things I have ever read in regards to how to handle emotions!

A Wary Hello

At the end of every school year (and sometimes, at the beginning of breaks throughout the school year), I sit around for a couple of days like a zombie, unsure of what to do with myself. Whether I like it or not, my life is fairly busy between the end of July and the end of June (yes, that's right, I really only have the beginning/middle of July as a true Summer break, which means I am not one of those teachers....though honestly, I don't know many of those teachers...who gets summers off!), and once the momentum that keeps me going is gone, I'm a bit lost. And when I am lost, I end up staring in the face of my always-with-me-but-not-always-so-visible companion, D.D. (Depressed Dar). After so many years of knowing D.D., I know better than to fight. I sleep more. I spend more time distracting myself with mindless activity. I avoid social situations that cause me anxiety, as well as anything else that might raise my blood pressure. I try to keep myself content. I hope and I pray that D.D.'s appearance is temporary, and that if I am patient, she will go away on a very extended trip once again.

Dear 2012...

Dear 2012,

So far, you haven't proven to be much different from 2011, which is most definitely NOT a bad thing. Wonderful things happened to me in 2011, like the attainment of a Masters degree (finally!) and the miracle of my house amid all the heartbreaking foreclosures. (After a year of not making mortgage payments and having resigned ourselves to a lifetime of bad credit and renting, the mortgage company, who must have received a direct order from God, himself, decided to modify our loan and make the payments affordable again.) Last year also presented new discoveries, like Spark energy drink, which makes me considerably more productive than I am without it and doesn't cause me to crash and burn like other energy drinks; and Pinterest, which inspires me to read and learn about more than I ever thought I wanted to read and learn! Given my life's history, I am grateful for what some would say is boring, consistent, predictable stability; thus I am pleased with your choice to mimic 2011 (yes, even the few terrible things that happened, because they were learning moments). I am hoping that you continue to bless me with monotony as you unfold.

There is one way in which you have begun to stand out. I find myself reflecting again, and not in the negative way that my depression normally commands. I'm experiencing an unusual, but amazing, abundance of clarity. Have you ever experienced a moment of clarity so striking that it pierces your thoughts and redirects your life's path? I think we all do, but sometimes they are not as obvious as lightning strikes. I have been lucky to have so many that I recognize, like the instant so long ago when I looked into George's eyes and saw that he would achieve every one of his goals (and I am so proud to report that he has!), so I wasn't afraid to embark on the adventure that is marriage with him. I spent a summer working with rising 5th graders that caused me to change my college major from secondary to elementary education, and the effect was life-altering, leading up to my teaching third grade (something I once passionately argued that I would NEVER do). After spending two years working as a teacher half-time, I realized that my place is as a full-time teacher...and though my initial concern was that it would mean precious time away from my child, I think being a full-time teacher (which really means being a teacher 24/7, whether I want to be or not) actually makes me a better mother, not to mention a person better able to contribute positively to the world.

I hope to continue to think clearly (as opposed to having to deal with the fogginess in my head...another gift of depression), especially because there is so much to consider, and there are so many connections to discover. Already I am seeing that no matter what you have planned for December (part of me, perhaps the Filipino Catholic, doesn't want to discount the mysticism of the Mayan calendar, so I'm inclined to believe that there is a chance the world will end...), you are truly a year for recognizing multiple perspectives. I want to see, hear, and understand as much as possible!

Thanks for reading, and thank you in advance for turning my wishes into my reality.
Warmest regards,
Dar

San Diego County with 2.5 year old guide!

Found this in my Drafts Folder. Not sure why I never posted...

*******Once upon a time, a lovely little family of three went to San Diego County for a week (because apparently, they learned nothing from the week-long excursion to Orlando over Fall Break). This is the story of that journey, told through the eyes of the 2.5 year old, who happened to decide where, when, and how long we stayed anywhere. So in other words, he was the boss.*********

After an incredibly long time in my car seat, we got to this place called Welk Resort San Diego. I giggled with glee as I ran circles around the front lobby (to exercise my leg muscles, of course). One of the ladies in the lobby told my mama not to worry because all kiddies my age do the exact same thing! We got there on Saturday evening, so Daddy and Mama ordered pizza for dinner and we just hung out. I loved the room because it had lots of hiding places (closets, a bathtub, a separate shower, a balcony, etc.) and room to run around. Mama said it was as big as the apartment she and Daddy lived in before they moved to my house! The next day we went to the grocery store, and then we went to Oceanside Harbor with our friends, the Jarvis family. Right next to the harbor was an awesome playground on the beach!

Here's a picture of me on my Daddy's shoulders (one of my favorite places to be!) and the littlest Jarvis, who happens to be a few months younger than me, on her daddy's shoulders. I'm usually nervous about little kids, but I liked her because she was spunky and she chased me around a lot. I love to be chased! Daddy and and her daddy joked about chicken fighting, but that was silly because she and I aren't chickens! We're 2 year olds!!

The next day we went to Legoland. Hooray! I love this place! We came here last year, but I don't remember it being so much fun. Mama says we will try to come back every summer, so next year I bet I'll go on more rides and stuff.

The Art of Complaining

From 11/5/2011:
If I was to randomly question a group of people, I'm willing to bet that the majority of the group would agree that complaining is bad. However, I think that complaining is necessary to keep balance! I believe this because in the past week I have made a conscious effort to NOT complain and it's resulted in my feeling like I have nothing but complaints in my head. Surely this is not how it's supposed to be, with the scale so obviously over-tipped?? So this morning, I've decided to craft an argument that somehow, complaining has gotten a bum rap. I even Googled the issue of complaining and found someone else's helpful blog entry about it:  http://dailyfreedom.com/2009/03/the-art-of-complaining-how-to-complain-effectively/.

Precisely a week ago, I didn't really have much to complain about. I had a fantastic morning, followed by an equally wonderful day full of accomplishment. And then Sunday morning happened, and there have been so many reasons to complain since then! This is how my life works in general...things are good, and then bad things happen and I complain about them, and then things are good again. Except I haven't been complaining, so the bad things and my complaints are still in my head, swirling around....and this is unsuitable given my brain's tendency to cleave to all thoughts unpleasant anyway. When I complain, I allow the negativity to escape my mind and make room for more "appropriate" thoughts of gratitude. I liken it to the delicate relationships between good and bad, light and dark, or joy and despair. Without one, the other is likely less appreciated, not to mention overshadowed. Not complaining has disrupted my life's balance, and I am determined to set things right!!

Amazing Affirmation

This is a blog entry that I stumbled across by actually reading my e-mail. I'm glad I did, because it reminds me of the value of being patient and kind in the classroom and the reason why I am so much so during the day that I practically explode by the end of it (I am, after all, a human being!)! My actions are what students (and their parents) remember, good or bad, and having had various teachers of my own, I definitely do not want to be remembered with cringing and relief that the year with me is over! It also makes me feel good about speaking up for those programs and practices that are good for students, even if it makes me unpopular with colleagues. Teaching, when done with students in mind, is the ultimate act of community service (especially when one really keeps track of all the unpaid work time). I wholeheartedly agree with this blog's author that it's not about me (though the feel-good moments of triumph and the endless life lessons are a bonus)....it's all about the shaping of people who will hopefully give back to their communities in some meaningful way.

Haunting Words to Inspire Every Teacher

By Marilyn Rhames on August 2, 2011 

Back in the days when I had no idea of what was actually required to be a good teacher, back when I was in grad school studying education theory and making foolish assumptions about how to manage students, I walked in on a conversation in a teacher's lounge that would change my life.

I had recently fled—yes I said fled—an elementary school on the West Side of Chicago. My year of student teaching had begun with the principal telling her staff that she hired us because we were physically attractive and that she loved the "green stuff" (gesturing money with her fingertips) and thus would have no problem firing any of us to save her job. She frequently used the P.A. system to spread her tyranny. Once she announced basketball try-outs and bluntly added that students who weren't skilled at the game should not show up. "I like to win," she said.

I shared a class with a mentor teacher who passed out worksheets all day and once responded to an insult from a student by saying, "You're talking about yo' mama." Some days I felt more like a bouncer than a resident teacher because I had to break up fights in the hallways and shout at the top of my lungs to get students' attention in class. I knew that if I were to gain any positive teaching tools, I'd have to go to another school. So after six months, I fled. The split was so messy that I didn't get a chance to say good-bye to my students. I ended up finishing my training at a progressive public school on a different side of the city.

That's when I stumbled in on that life-changing conversation in the teacher's lounge. The chatter was animated. A few teachers were reminiscing about their classroom horror stories at other schools: John dashed out of the classroom ... Sarah threatened to jump out the window, again ... Angel knocked over bookshelves in a fit of rage .... And in my desire to fit in and one-up the last tale, I began to share about the unbelievable dysfunction at my old school. Even though I hadn't yet earned my teaching certificate, I felt like I had earned some stripes. I was persevering to educate the youth despite the insanity within the urban public school system. I was the heroine of the story, fearless and unafraid.

"It happened to them," were the four words that shut me and the other teachers up. "It happened to them, not to you. You tell the stories like it's some kind of entertainment, but it happened to them—the kids. They are the ones who 30 years from now will remember these stories with tears in their eyes."

It was the middle school social studies teacher. He was a demur white man in his late 30s who often wore cardigans like Mr. Rogers. Until then he had kept silent, even as each story gave rise to a higher level of ridiculousness. He went on to explain that he, too, used to complain and feel like the victim until another teacher rebuked him with those words. He felt compelled to pass that wisdom on.

It happened to them: This truth has haunted me for the past eight years I've been teaching. I am only glad that I got set straight early in my teaching career. Some teachers never seem to get it. You know this when their debates about education reform are centered around teacher rights, and not student rights. Teachers' needs are important—I have a mortgage; I have a family; I would like to retire one day—but they are not the core issue. The mission is bigger than us. Educators and policymakers must boil the chatter down to two essential questions: To what degree will this policy enhance student learning and how will we know?

My children attend the school where I teach so I am all the more aware that "it"—whatever "it" is in a school, good or bad—is happening to them. I have to continually raise my expectations for myself, as a practitioner and as a parent. I must think deeply about what I believe, and then advocate for it. I can no longer rely on the teachers' union (if I were still in one) to represent my views and values about education. I must be like that social studies teacher who took a risk and spoke up for what was right. That is the only way anyone has ever changed the world. And that's why I am "Charting My Own Course."

The Call

This song speaks to me (uploaded by a 7th grader on 5/26/2008):
REGINA SPEKTOR- THE CALL
It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder
Till it was a battle cry
I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye

Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never been this way before
All you can do is try to know who your friends are
As you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light
You'll come back when it's over
No need to say goodbye

You'll come back when it's over
No need to say goodbye

Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean that you have to forget

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
Till they're before your eyes
You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say goodbye

You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say goodbye...

I am an American....

My husband has accused me of being unpatriotic, and I feel alone in my non-celebration of Osama bin Laden's death.  While I recognize that this was an affirming event for our country, I just can't get excited over someone being killed. True, the world is now minus one more horrible person...maybe that is something for which to be thankful. But as evil and unfeeling as he was, he was a human being (had any of us the misfortune of being born in his position, we might have turned out as he did...), and how are we any different from the terrible people who rejoiced over the deaths we suffered on 9/11 if we are celebrating someone's death at our hands?

I found this quote that someone had posted on a blog that was discussing how to broach this subject with children:

”I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”.


Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Thanks, MLK, for reminding me that I'm not the only one who feels this way. And thank you for inspiring me to keep sharing light and love with all those whose lives I touch.

Aren't teachers human beings too??

I just discovered that if I have a bad day and make sarcastic (but nonspecific) comments related to my job on my personal blog that don't encourage violence or endanger national security, I just might 1) attract national attention, 2) be the subject of several discussion forums on which people who have never done my job will judge and make sarcastic comments about me, 3) get suspended from my job, but with pay, and 4) cause everyone to lament the state of public education and blame a wide range of people, including me.

Guess I won't be doing that. But Natalie Munroe, a teacher in PA, did, and I bet she wishes now that she'd kept her human feelings and thoughts to herself. Still, I can't help but be a little upset on her behalf. Seeing as how I know my blog gets posted on the Internet and on Facebook and I happen to be friends with students, parents, and colleagues on Facebook who could easily see whatever I write, I am definitely thoughtful about what I publish. HOWEVER, despite how "careful" I am, I know that not everything I say will be considered wonderful and there is always the possibility that someone will be offended/upset by my words. How do I know this? Because I'm a human being who recognizes that people think differently from me. I know that I don't like everything I see and hear. What I hope is that those who disagree with me respect my right to express myself, as I respect their right to disagree with me. I would hope that they wouldn't bring a lynch mob to my door insisting on my punishment, silence, or even worse, demanding that I change my mind because what I think is wrong. This is America. We don't really do that.......anymore........right?

Unfortunately for Ms. Munroe, someone who was reading her blog was offended by her comments. Instead of recognizing that as a human being, Ms. Munroe is more than entitled to her feelings and thoughts, the offended person(s) decided to go the lynch mob route rather than to do what we all have the power to do: stop reading, make a mental note that it was offensive, and move on. People who are so inclined even have the power to offer comments on things they read or send messages to others sharing their opinions. I cannot speak to whether I would've agreed with Ms. Munroe's comments (the "offensive" entries aren't available for me to read), but it doesn't even really matter. Denying her humanity would be denying my own.

Why Everyone Should Want a Cure for Depression

I just read an article that mentioned that there is still a stigma attached to being depressed. It makes me feel brave because I have chosen to be so vocal (to the point that even I sometimes think, "Enough already about how depressed you are! Can we talk/think about something else now??") about my experience with depression- and to share, as openly as appropriate, how difficult this illness can be. Even if it means that people think I'm crazy, or unstable, or whatever it is people think that causes there to be a stigma...I have gained so much from reading about others' ways of coping that I don't dare withhold what I have discovered! (Besides, I am a touch crazy. It's part of my charm!)

I've referred to depression as cancer with no remission- but it's probably more aptly described as being like ADHD. Everybody probably has a touch of it every now and then, whether they realize it or not; everyone knows someone who has it; and even those who have been "officially" diagnosed and who are "properly" medicated still demonstrate symptoms. For these reasons, and many more, what I want for my birthday is a cure for depression.

Imagine it! Though the elimination of depression would end up in people losing their jobs (drug manufacturers, therapists, etc.), it could mean thousands of dollars and hours of energy and effort saved- money, energy, and effort that could go toward other things, like education! No more depression would mean many more people are able to have productive days more often.  It would likely result in fewer divorces and bad decisions as well. The simple fact that it would be the end of the bulk of all suicides is reason enough to find a cure!

Everyone will benefit from no more depression When I blow out my 32 candles this year, its total disappearance will be my wish.

Tomika and her Five F's

Since she admitted that she did not trademark her Five F's, I hope she doesn't mind that I'm sharing them in my public blog...

I had lunch with a good  friend today. I've known Tomika since the summer of '97 when I prayed (silently, of course) that the "loud Black girl" (lmao- especially because I am sometimes that girl) would NOT come sit next to me during our ASU LSP orientation. Of course, she sat next to me, and my life has been SO much the better for it. I have many memories that include Tomika...from the crazy outfit shopping at Savers for our Freshman skit (I wonder if Rob-Bob still has those pants with the upside-down ducks on them?) to the night she met my future husband and declared him "good people," to the night I called her, sobbing hysterically, when the two people who mattered most in the world to me were in separate emergency rooms and I was frantically driving back and forth between them (which, in hindsight, I had no business doing)...and she helped me pull it together. There are others, of course, but those are the ones that just now popped into my head.

As I've mentioned in a previous blog, Tomika is the strong voice in my head that keeps me going whenever I feel like spontaneously combusting. And today, she shared with me her plan for 2011: The Five F's. They are, in no particular order, Family, Fitness, Fun, Finances, and Faith. (She says that Food isn't one of them, but I think Food and Fitness could go together, as part of fitness is making good choices about food, which is the fuel that makes all the other F's possible...besides, I like food!)

Anyway, Tomika impressed the heck out of me, which isn't unusual...most of the people I know impress the heck out of me and either a) inspire me to emlulate their greatness, or b) make me acutely aware of my non-greatness, or c) both a & b. So I may have to adopt her plan or modify it a bit in development of my own. Her strong voice in my head is saying that it's a good idea.

Smarty Pants

Alex is convinced that he knows everything, a sentiment he shared with me this afternoon in the car. We were discussing the rest of our day's agenda (including completing some of his homework that should've been done a week ago!) after a fruitful excursion to Fry's Marketplace (we scored two awesome lighted Christmas decorations for $6.25 each due to their 75% off everything Christmas sale!). When I suggested that he might want to keep studying to become smarter, he replied, "I'm already smart, and I already know everything." Oh boy.

Sadly, Alex probably does know "everything" when it comes to me. He knows that he came from my tummy, that I'm married to his father, etc. What is sad is that he also knows that Mommy has some days when she's very sad, cries a lot, or is in a generally bad mood. I have explicitly told him that my bad days are NEVER because of him. He has already proven himself to be a sensitive child, but what strikes me most significantly are his quiet ways of dealing with my depression. For instance, he has instituted "Hug Time," which is when we drop everything to give each other big, bear hugs. Alex is also incredibly good about making sure that no one feels left out during our family moments. He gives "equal time" to both myself and George by insisting that we take turns when playing games, riding rides, choosing movies, or merely sitting next to him on the couch. I am never "permitted" to stay home when he and George make impromptu trips, and though I often feel like I am being dragged along, I appreciate my wise son's insistence that I engage in his activities, and as a result, in life.

How did he become so emotionally, interpersonally savvy? Perhaps his inability to remember to flush the toilet every time (or his selective hearing) is explained by all the energy he's putting into loving his family- and me. Somehow, he has already figured out how to prioritize! Maybe, in his own little 6 year-old way, he really does know everything. I'm so proud...and eternally grateful.

The Circle of [my] Life

This time of year always causes me to be reflective. Perhaps it's the 200% more sleep I get as soon as Winter Break starts. Maybe it's the lack of children following me around, poking me, and saying, "Mrs. Davis," in varying tones of urgency and at different noise levels (very distracting). Whatever the reason, I have time to think, and if I've learned anything in the last decade, it's that thinking time can be as bad as it is good.

For me, time to think means looking back on everything I've accomplished, relishing the amazing moments and wondering where my brilliance, strength, and/or charm came from. Honestly, I'm still not sure how Alex has turned into such a lively, positive, considerate child; nor do I remember how I survived my consistent fog of exhaustion that was his first year of life.

Unfortunately, I end up spending the bulk of my free time focusing on my mistakes, failures, inability to  accomplish all the fantastic things I thought about doing, and how much disappointment I have caused. I try to be constructive, reminding myself that true power and success have nothing to do with quantity and everything to do with quality and prioritization. And then I end up spending at least one entire day in bed lamenting my inaction and putting my negative soundtrack on a loop so I can listen to it over and over again. Luckily, this year I was able to pull myself out of the dark abyss, though in previous years, that has not been the case more often than not. I see this as progress, even if I am mostly horrified that it happens at all.

I will be completely fine again once the second semester of school starts and I become immersed in work and in the day-to-day routines that I've established for Alex. Truly, doing for others takes away depressed thoughts like nothing else! I'll long for days of having nothing pressing on my agenda during which I spend a very large amount of time doing nothing of note. And I will forget how dangerous time to think can be for me, at least until the Christmas season rolls around again. Maybe when it does, I'll be ready.

Here's a thought...

This is advice, not just for dealing with people with depression, but for interacting with everyone (from Beyond Blue Blog):

Listen.
"When people are talking," writes Rachel Naomi Remen, "there's no need to do anything but receive them. Just take them in. Listen to what they're saying. Care about it. Most times caring about it is even more important than understanding it."  Suggestions [come] off as condescending, even though...they were meant to be helpful. Advice [can be] annoying. Many times [they] just [need] to be heard, to be validated. Don't hesitate to say nothing. Because silence often speaks the most loving message.

From 'Beyond Blue' Blog....What to say to a depressed person

I'm thinking that a lot of my recovery was hindered by these very comments. After years of individual therapy, a stint in group therapy, and several combinations and dosages of different anti-depressants, it's amazing to me that I have heard every single one of these comments (sometimes the same message, but paraphrased)...and mostly from the people who love and care about me most.

1. Snap out of it!
Your loved one hasn't left the house in what seems like days. Should you tell him to pull himself up by his bootstraps and just snap out of it?
Don't say it.
You may be tempted to tell someone who's depressed to stop moping around and just shake it off. But depression is not something patients can turn on and off, and they're not able to respond to such pleas. Instead, tell your loved one that you're available to help them in any way you can.
2. What do you have to be depressed about?
In a world full of wars, hunger, poverty, abuse, and other ills, you may feel impatient when someone you love feels depressed. So do you remind him how lucky he is?
Don't say it.
You can't argue someone out of feeling depressed, but you can help by acknowledging that you're aware of his pain. Try saying something like "I'm sorry that you're feeling so bad."

3. Why don't you go for a nice walk?
Exercise is a known way to lift your mood. Is it a good idea to suggest that your loved one with depression go out and enjoy some fresh air and activity?
Say it -- but with a caveat.
By definition, depression keeps you from wanting to engage in everyday activities. But you can show your support by offering to take a walk, go to a movie, or do some other activity with your loved one. How about: "I know you don't feel like going out, but let's go together."

4. It's all in your head.
Some people believe that depression is an imaginary disease and that it's possible to think yourself into feeling depressed and down. Should you tell your loved one that depression is just a state of mind -- and if she really wanted to, she could lift her mood with positive thoughts?
Don't say it.
Suggesting that depression is imagined is neither constructive nor accurate. Although depression can't be "seen" from the outside, it is a real medical condition and can't be thought or wished away. Try saying instead: "I know that you have a real illness that's causing you to feel this way."

5. Seeing a therapist is probably a good idea.
You think your loved one could benefit from talking to a mental health professional. Should you say so?
Say it.
Reinforcing the benefits of treatment is important. Encourage the idea of getting professional help if that step hasn't yet been taken. This is especially important if your loved one has withdrawn so much that she is not saying anything. Try telling her, "You will get better with the right help." Suggest alternatives if you don't see any improvement from the initial treatment in about six to eight weeks.

I'm okay, you're okay...

I'm starting to think that maybe I'll end up in a very unpleasant nursing home. Alex made the bad decision to sit on the arm of the couch and fell backwards, landing on the handle of his newly-remodeled light saber (ouch). He cried out in pain and I went to investigate, thinking that his injuries always sound worse than they actually are. Turns out I wasn't wrong in this case. I said, "Wow, that was a dumb thing to do," and Alex immediately insisted that it wasn't very nice of me to 1) use the word, "dumb," and 2) use it in relation to him. So I apologized and he gave me his how-dare-you-not-think-everything-I-do-is-wonderful look. This incident, coupled with yesterday's rant about how he doesn't need me anymore because he can do everything himself and how much I bother him by standing nearby to watch him do things (like put on his seat belt properly) AND how I need to be more patient (something I'm constantly telling him)...not to even mention that this morning he told me that he already knows everything, so why do I keep telling him?...gives me the impression that there's a poorly-run old folks' home in my future.

On a different note, I still feel tired and angry/irritated, but I've decided that I'm okay and not sinking into the pits of depression again. Despite the fact that I am the negative self-talk queen, I have managed to think of some concrete examples of how okay I am:
1- I actually said something about not feeling well instead of going into full-fledged denial.
2- I'm still making it to work on time, if not slightly early (a HUGE deal for me!).
3- I know that I won't feel this way forever.
4- I make positive comments to George to note his improvements- so that shows I'm feeling hopeful.

There is hope. I'm okay.

Fighting the Good Fight

I haven't had a decent night's sleep since Thursday and adrenaline has been flowing through my body to keep me awake, alert, and able to take care of others. Now I'm tired. And worried about how tired I feel because I'm battling my depression....again.

I first noticed something was up when on Friday afternoon I started to cry when I couldn't find my backpack for camping. On the drive up to Williams, all I could think about was how much work I need to do since it's the beginning of the school year and how disappointed people will be because I will inevitably fail to meet deadlines or something like that. Today I went to Target for a heating pad for George and ended up spending too much time and money there (actually, that's fairly normal). The bad thing is that all the shopping made me feel worse because now I have to put everything away.

George's being unable to walk, sit, stand, breathe, blink, etc. without pain is painful for me to watch. My husband is a stoic sort of fellow- the kind who fits stereotypical descriptions of strong, silent men who don't share, much less display, emotions freely. On Saturday night and most of yesterday, George cried everytime he had to move. It was better today, but something has gone wrong in the world if my husband has to depend on me as though he was my child. Not that I begrudge him anything that he needs. He is actually very thoughtful and polite about his requests, and I am happy to be helpful. It's just hard to be unable to do anything to stop his pain. It's heart-wrenching to comfort my son, who is "worried that Daddy will be hurt forever," when I myself am worried and upset.

I try to calm myself down by remembering that it would be upsetting to anyone to see someone with tears streaming down their face because of pain. I try to reason with myself about feeling overwhelmed and I can identify the negative thoughts in my head and know that my exhaustion is part of the reason they're there.

But I'm fighting back anger that despite taking my medicine religiously, and despite all my awareness of signs and triggers (of which George's state is a major one), I still have to feel this way. I'm angry (all over again) that I am susceptible to every sort of stress overload there is and that I can't handle as much as I think I should be able to manage. I'm angry that I feel burning tears waiting to slide down my cheeks at random moments. I'm hoping that my anger will subside soon. I'm fighting it, but I'm also very tired.