Healing #1

Kim asked me: "What activities do you enjoy?" and I really couldn't name one. I like teaching. I like writing. I like coloring. I like being active. But honestly? Since I had my first baby in 2008, my job has been to "do the things." 

And I did them. Willingly. And I still do. I consider being a mother to truly be one of the greatest vocations in life, and I am honored to get to be one. I honestly don't often think: "I have to take my kid to such and such a place, and I don't want to." I just think: this is my job. And I'm a mom. 

I almost wasn't one. 

And I haven't forgotten that. 

But in the meantime, while I am healing from this ... sort of ... breakdown that I have gone through, what are things I enjoy? 

Well, I enjoy writing. I do. It has been my companion since I was a small girl. Some of my earliest memories involve a typewriter -- an old manual one perched on a desk in the den of my parents' mobile home. From there I moved to a typewriter in typing class, and my dad's word processor in his office as athletic director. Typing. Writing. My second grade teacher says she remembers my long stories written way back then. 

But I realize, unless I am honest about what I am going through ... I can't write. My Blog is empty because what I am going through is too private to share. I could write it in a journal. But I don't. 

And so, I must tear down the walls of pride and protection and just share my heart. 

A big reason I avoid sharing is because my children read (or will read) this Blog. But, alas, they know I have been on a struggle train. They understand that I am healing from some depression. And they honestly don't care that much. Kids are really good at being into their own things. 

Wendi realized that she has been living to please people her whole life. She didn't do this on purpose. Her brain learned to do this. And when it learned, it made connections to keep her safe. And it worked.

Until it didn't work anymore. 

My body said NO MORE. I said yes to people. I just did. Not because I didn't want to. I wanted to. But, while medicating away the anxiety and depression that first reared up its ugly head postpartum after Elijah in 2009, I didn't know that I was pushing past my limits. It felt fine. I was fine. 

Push.

Do the thing.

Push.

And then, I couldn't do the thing anymore. 

It started with horrendous anxiety. I was panicked continually. Always about people. And then, as that seemed to come under control, the depression reared its ugly head.

This time I decided: I cannot just medicate this away. I am not against medication. I am using it now. But it is a bandaid for the problem. And the bandaid means I am not helping my wound/s heal.

So, I have begun great Christian therapy (with Kim!) and am using meds and making very different life choices in order to heal from the life I thought I was doing just fine. Everyone who saw me would say, "You do too much" or "How are you doing all these things?" but I didn't realize it wasn't the THINGS that were the problem. 

It was the EMOTIONAL labor that I put into so many things. A text message. A look. A glance. A room. People. I was constantly assessing people. Constantly. Are they happy? Are they sad? And what can I do to make them feel better? Because if they feel better, I feel better.

(That last part isn't true but its what I believed.)

How we come to believe these things is a combination of genetics/environment/relationships/experiences. It's partly how we are raised but also how we cope. It's what our parents learned. It's what our grandparents learned. It's what we accidentally learned. It's what we didn't even know we learned. Sometimes these events come from BIG traumas. But honestly, every single human has faced "little" traumas. Little things that didn't go the way they should have and made us have to cope. 

So, I am going to try to write. I am going to try to Blog. I won't link them to any social media. Not now. They will just be here. Those that want to come, can read. Those that don't, won't. 

And it's not designed to hurt any feelings or share any secrets or cause any pain. It's here to help ME heal. God designed us to be protected when we feel pain, hurt or loss. Those events can be too overwhelming to comprehend all at once. So instead, our healthy nervous systems automatically shield us in the moment, compartmentalizing pain, so we can get through hard things. 

The only thing is ... did anyone ever teach you that? Did anyone ever explain that? I didn't know that. The first time my anxiety reared up, I should have gone looking for the REASON it was there. But I didn't know that. So I didn't look. I thought it was just people-pleasing-wendi and it was who I was, and if I could fix the pride and selfishness that lead to the people-pleasing and pray to God the right way, I could fix the anxiety that reared up.

But it was more than that. It was my body's way of taking care of me. I couldn't feel all that fear at once. So it cared for me and protected me. 

Until it said: "I can't do this anymore."

And now, I heal. 

Mental Health and Faith

As I heal, I am reading things that are incredibly encouraging to me. Ann Voskamp has been one of those who has really ministered to me with numerous articles. So often we think that if we had more faith, the worries would go away. But there is MORE TO IT than just God. There is a lot of research and truth and origins that we need to get down deep and FIND. 

Come along with me on this journey if you will!