April 2008

I have a few questions to get off my chest and then I’m going to start in my rant…

Why is mental illness frowned upon?

Why do others think I should be ashamed that I have problems with mental illness?

Why do people think they can force their views on me?

Why is it thought that I must not eat healthy since I struggle with depression?

Why am I told that if I would just take this, and this, and this, since it’s all natural, I will feel better?

Why am I told I must not have enough faith or else I wouldn’t be battling depression?

Why is medication so bad?

Why can’t people accept the fact that I have a neurological problem?

It’s not spiritual. It’s not because I don’t exercise enough. It’s not because I don’t eat healthy.

It’s because I have a chemical imbalance. Get it? I’m crazy and take drugs so I can be what you consider normal. Hmmm. Maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s you who’s crazy.

I am sick and tired of having to defend myself because I have to take medication for depression. I have struggled with depression my entire life. Finally, I have relief and feel like I am really living. I don’t feel as though I am a walking zombie watching others living while I have no idea how to live. I feel alive.

You should be happy that I am getting better. Instead, you tell me what I’m doing wrong and if I would only do what you say then everything would be all right. Guess what? I did it your way for years and felt worse. Did you hear me? I felt worse. Until you can show me your medical degree I am going to listen to my trained physician. The one who has gone to school and studied this disorder. The one who is actually helping me.

There is nothing wrong with me. I have a chemical imbalance and take medication to stay stable. Don’t mess around with depression. If you need help, seek it. At some point you have to stop listening to those naysayers who are against doctors and medicine.

I firmly believe that I am alive today because at the wise counsel of a friend I sought help. J is the wisest woman I know and trust her with my secrets. She set it up for me to go to the doctor when I didn’t have the money for it. I was diagnosed with depression and looked into medication.

I was breastfeeding my six month old daughter at the time so I didn’t take any medicine. J and I searched for safe, alternative ways to handle the depression until my daughter was weaned six months later. It wasn’t easy and most of the time I’m not sure it was worth it but I endured.

After she was weaned, I continued doing what I had been doing but gradually noticed that it wasn’t working anymore. Things started getting worse and I didn’t know what to do. I thought I needed medication but was afraid to say anything.

That thinking changed when I admitted to my husband that I wanted to die. I didn’t want to live anymore. I was purposely staying away from the computer because I was tempted to search for specific ways on how to quickly kill myself.
Hubby immediately called J and together we prayed. I told her everything. Because we were concerned with spiritual issues, hubby and I went in for prayer with Pastor and J.

The suicidal thoughts and urges were gone but I was still struggling with depression. It was determined that this was not spiritual and I needed to see my doctor. That came to Pastor while he was praying for us.

I called my doctor and spoke some of the hardest words ever to a complete stranger, “I think I’m depressed.” You see, there is a certain disdain for those who suffer from depression. Any form of mental illness really. Instead of looking down our noses at those who need help why don’t we reach out to them.

I met a woman this weekend who had struggled with mental illness for quite some time and was finally free from it. I don’t know why she opened up to me but I was glad. I told her more people needed to hear her story. It’s time to quit hiding behind our depression and get it out there in the world.

There is help and there is no need to be ashamed. Don’t you dare feel ashamed or let others put shame on you because you are depressed.

What I’m trying to say is that unless you know what someone is going through, think twice before you speak and make sure your words are words of encouragement and not words of shame.

I took my eldest son in for a haircut. Apparently this is a conversation they had…

Son: I get $8 for raking the leaves in my yard. How much do you get for cutting my hair?
Hairstylist: $10.
Son: That’s all? Don’t you think that’s a little cheap?

Hairstylist said usually it’s the other way around. They are shocked that she would charge that much for a haircut. She also mentioned she learned a lot about us while she was cutting his hair. It made her wonder how much her daughter was telling others.

I assured her that her daughter was telling everything her mother would be horrified to have repeated. Not only that but in a little child’s way that technically what she is saying is true but that’s not really how it happened.

On the way home in the car…

Son: I like women. Do you know why I like women?
Me: No. Why?
Son: Because they are soft. Men should be called Mad Men.

I’m going to a women’s retreat this weekend. It should be lots of fun. They usually are. My friends, food, friends, food, and oh yeah, some spiritual stuff thrown in there also.

I don’t remember what the theme is this year but I do know that the guest speaker is our district supervisor’s wife. I’m excited to meet her and hear her speak since their church is one of the one’s we are thinking about checking out when we move.

I’m extra excited because Best Friend will be getting there early enough to snag the room that has only two beds. That’s one of the perks of being best friends with someone on the women’s committee. Getting a good room and knowing all the ins and outs of whats happening in our women’s ministry.

Hopefully, I will hear from God this weekend and eat lots of yummy food and have more fun than I have in long time.

Thanks to Anna my daughter has been watching the Backyardigans. It is on a Nick Jr. DVD she loaned us because my two year old daughter loves Dora. Now she also loves the Backyardigans. I’m ok with them although I admit I haven’t sat through the entire episode. I do however love the Pirate song. I don’t know why but I do. So I dedicate this video clip I found on Youtube to Best Friend because she hates this song.

The first car I ever owned was a 1977 Ford Maverick. It was cute, silver-gray, and torn up. My mom made me buy it from her for $100 because I had destroyed it with my bad driving. I think I was 16 when I was forced to purchase it because that was when I got my driver’s license.

I thought I was so cool driving that car around town, dragging Main Street on the weekends, looking for cute guys with my friends. I was da bomb! Ok. Not really but in my imaginative head I was IT. Too bad the guys didn’t think so. Oh well.

After my Maverick died from my not taking care of it and bad driving I was in need of another vehicle. I can’t for life of me remember what I bought next but it was a creamy-tan color and nothing special. My step dad told me not to buy it but the guy selling it was so darn cute that I had to have that car. By buying the car it guaranteed me another opportunity to see him again even though he had a girlfriend. Well, girlfriend followed me home one day not too long after I purchased the car. Girlfriend threatened me and told me to stay away from her boyfriend. Not good. Not good at all because I thought “Oh yeah!” and it was on. I was determined that he would be mine and he was. Girlfriend didn’t last much longer after her threat and I became girlfriend. The car didn’t last and neither did the boyfriend.

The car following that disaster was a Buick Regal Limited. I can’t remember the year but it was nice. It was the nicest car I had so far owned and loved it. I was buying it from a friend for $1000 and then only had to pay $500. Why did I get it for 1/2 off you ask? That would be because the weekend before I bought it she was rear-ended and there was a big dent in the trunk. As in the trunk was one big inverted V. Talk about a nice pimped out, tinted windowed car with a dumpy trunk. Sadly, it was still the nicest car I had owned.

That car died and I purchases a Honda Accord stick shift. That car was FUN! It was the next nicest car I had owned and I loved it. I had this car for years and would still have it if it weren’t for the fact that I moved and the friend who was keeping it for me also moved without me knowing it and took my car with him. Thanks friend. It took a while to find him and sign the title over to him because I didn’t want him to wreck, hurt someone and then I would be stuck with the court costs, medical bills, and what not because I was the owner of the car. No, I wasn’t worried about the friend since the friend basically stole my car. I was worried about the other people and my butt.

Which now leads up to my being married and sharing vehicles with Hubby. Hubby had a Honda CRX when we hooked up. I thought it was a sexy car and he looked great in it. What was I thinking? A CRX sexy? Oh well at least the guy is still sexy.

We had a child and the CRX wasn’t really a family car. Let’s see…two seater vehicle…three person family. It was time to get a family vehicle. Which is still the car I presently own. My 1992 Buick Century. Silver. Well, now it’s more like I’m dirty and need washed Silver but Silver all the same. I love this car. Out of all my vehicles this would have to be my favorite. Of course it’s the only car that has lasted for eight years so of course it would be my favorite. It’s also the only car that would comfortably hold the five of us. I have to have room. I can not stand to be in a cramped vehicle which is why I don’t like the five of us riding in Hubby’s Honda Civic because I feel cramped. I hate feeling cramped.

Enough of cramped feeling talk. I want to talk about something else. Let’s see…how about the car I will be getting soon. Soon I will be zipping around in my new Mustang! Not! But a girl can dream can’t she? Actually, we are getting ready to get me a different car and it will probably be a Honda Accord and Hyundai Sonata. Not that I really know that much about cars but Hubby’s buying it so he will get me whatever he thinks will be best.

So now you’ve got to learn how I used to be a bad driver and how shallow I used to be by picking cars for how cute the guy was. Wait. I’m still a bad driver and shallow. Some things never change.

When I was younger I liked to cuddle in bed with someone. That someone was my Aunt La. Now I’m not sure if she was in my bed or I in hers but alas we were in bed together.

The only problem was I was still a bed wetter. For some reason my Aunt didn’t like getting peed on so whenever I wet the bed she would move to another spot. So since she moved I moved also and proceeded to wet the bed again. She would move, I would move and wet again. Until finally she moved and when I went to find her I fell out of bed.

Aunt La says she should have felt bad. She didn’t. She was no longer being followed by a bed-wetting codependent. I should be embarrassed but I’m not. I was like two or three years old.

Thus is one of my memories of my early childhood. Actually, it isn’t my memory at all. It’s one I have heard over and over again throughout my childhood that has morphed into my memory.

I have a child with autism. Asperger’s Syndrome if you need to get more technical. Asperger’s is sometimes easier to say because it doesn’t always come with the stigma of autism. The stigma that comes from those who aren’t informed about autism, who don’t know very much but think they know everything.

I used to be one of those people. I used to think I knew more than I really did. I even did research on autism when I worked with the children at church because we had an autistic girl who needed extra attention. I wanted to be able to better help her so I started looking into autism. I learned a lot about autism but not enough.

I don’t think you can ever learn enough. Even now with my son, I know nothing. At least it seems that way. I’m learning to take what people say to me and channel it through a fact or crap filter. Most of what I have been hearing is crap except that which is coming from trained professionals. Trained professionals who truly love my son and want what is best for him and to help him to succeed.

If you were to know my son you wouldn’t know he had autism. I didn’t know until recently. I knew he was having difficulties in school and eventually moved from a private school to a public school. He wasn’t handled well at the private school and I can see now that they weren’t trained to deal with autism nor did they have experience. My son burst their bubble world and they didn’t know what to do. All they could see was this defiant child. I was amazed at his behavior and couldn’t figure out what was going on at school for him to act out this way. He was confined in a box and didn’t have any breathing room.

The public school has to accept him and they were able to see and recognize behavioral tendencies that looked like Asperger’s. I was approached and asked if the school psychologist could evaluate him. Yes!

Best Friend’s mom works with multi handicapped children and was the first to mention Asperger’s and high functioning autism. When I got home I started looking into Asperger’s. What is this? What is high functioning autism? Are they the same? Are they different? I don’t know. I’m learning as I go.

What was is like to learn my son has autism. At first it was horrible. I grieved. No mom wants something to be “wrong” with her child. So I grieved. I did research. I wanted to learn everything I could.

I am learning to be my son’s advocate. I am learning when to be forceful and when to step back. Our school is showing me how to work the system which is good because we are moving soon. I have contacted our new school and they have experience with Asperger’s which I am thankful for because I didn’t want to have to educate a school on Asperger’s.

My son is still the same. The fact that he has autism doesn’t change him; he is still the same lovable, tender-hearted child he has always been. I am the one who has changed and as I learn more about autism I am changed for the better.

Web sites for special education and autism:

Autism National Committee
Autism Research Institute
Autism Society of America
Center for the Study of Autism
Division TEACCH
The Educational Resources Center (ERIC)
Autism Speaks
MAAP (More Advanced Individuals with Autism, Asperger’s Syndrome and Pervasive Developmental Disorder)
Online Asperger’s Syndrome Information and Support (O.A.S.I.S.)

This week, the

Christian Fiction Blog Alliance
is introducing
My Soul To Keep
(Multnomah Books - February 5, 2008)
by
Melanie Wells

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

A native of the Texas panhandle and the child of musicians, Melanie Wells attended Southern Methodist University on a music scholarship (she’s a fiddle player), and later completed graduate degrees in counseling psychology and Biblical studies at Our Lady of the Lake University and Dallas Theological Seminary.

She has taught at the graduate level at both OLLU and DTS, and has been in private practice as a counselor since 1992. She is the founder and director of LifeWorks counseling associates in Dallas, Texas, a collaborative community of creative therapists.

When the Day of Evil Comes is her first published work of fiction, and the first of a three-book series. The second work, The Soul Hunter was released in May, 2006. Melanie lives and writes in Dallas.

ABOUT THE BOOK:

As nasty as I knew Peter Terry to be, I never expected him to start kidnapping kids. Much less a sweet, funny little boy with nothing to protect him but a few knock-kneed women, two rabbits and a staple gun…

It’s psychology professor Dylan Foster’s favorite day of the academic year…graduation day. And her little friend Christine Zocci’s sixth birthday. But the joyful summer afternoon goes south when a little boy is snatched from a neighborhood park, setting off a chain of events that seen to lead nowhere.

The police are baffled, but Christine’s eerie connection with the kidnapped child sends Dylan on a chilling investigation of her own. Is the pasty, elusive stranger Peter Terry to blame? Exploding light bulbs, the deadly buzz of a Texas rattlesnake, and the vivid, disturbing dreams of a little girl are just pieces of a long trail of tantalizing clues leading Dylan in her dogged search for the truth.

“Like water rising to a boil, My soul To Keep’s suspense sneaks up on you…before you know it, you’re in the thick if a frightening drama…Superbly crafted.”
—ROBERT LIPARULO, author of Deadfall, Germ, and Comes A Horseman

“Written with passion, a good dose of humor and, dare I say it, soul, this novel reminds us that we all, with grace and good fortune, bumble our way toward salvation.”
—K. L. COOK, author of Late Call and The Girl From Charmelle

Last night I had a migraine. Unfortunately, I had to suffer it out until I could put the kiddos to bed. Thankfully, I had some medicine I could take and called hubby and friends to be praying for me.

I’m going to cop out on this post again and show a video. I enjoy the videos and the memories that go along with the songs. Let’s see…what shall I choose? Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians.

When this song first came out I hated it. Hated it. Hated it. Hated it. Now I love it. Love it. Love it. Love it. When I hear it on the radio I turn it up and sing along. I also have it going through my head at various times of the day. I’m not sure what happened over the past couple decades but I think my taste in music is starting to change. Like I’m actually starting to appreciate good music. Well…hubby may not agree but that’s coming from the man who played Buck Cherry’s Cocaine to our first born when he was an infant. I don’t think he qualifies in evaluating my taste in music.

***UPDATE - I have been informed that Buck Cherry’s song is titled Lit Up. I was wrong. Thanks to ‘Just so that you know’ for correcting me. See! Without comments I could be going through life wrong most of the time. Now I can be wrong part of the time.