I am laying at the bottom of the stairs. My body is motionless. My neck is slightly bent, indicating just how I died. Unfolded clothes and shrieking children surround me, an empty laundry basket askew on the stairs. I can see it in my head. It flashes in my mind, a cloud of darkness to follow.
I have been putting off writing this post. Those who follow my blog have probably noticed the long absence. I just couldn't bring myself to think about it. But it was laid on my heart to share, and I am far enough on the other side of it that I can. Now.
Back in December, I gave birth to a beautiful & healthy baby boy. He has been a glorious reminder of God's love for me and quite a blessing. I would not trade him for the world. But, I came home with more than a little bundle of joy. The dark cloud of PPD (postpartum depression) accompanied us from the hospital. I have had five live births and the fifth is the first time that I have had more than the baby blues. I knew what to expect with the baby blues and was well versed in the hormonal changes a woman endures during the postpartum period. The changes in mood that follow and the uncontrollable emotions that could swallow a mom alive if left unchecked usually occur within those first few weeks home with a newborn. I had prepared myself for that and knew it was only a matter of time before I could be myself again. I could get past it because it was just a purging, a flush of the extra hormones that were no longer needed.
I had not prepared myself for the dark, gripping cloud that snatched me up about two weeks into my baby's life. It was a feeling that seemed to steal the very breath from me and my turned thoughts into negativity and anger. Rage built beneath the surface and oozed out onto those around me until they steered clear. My children knew something was wrong with mom. I would scream at them one minute over something spilled then cry because I felt ashamed at lashing out. I would burst into tears at any moment. Crying over nothing. Really. Nothing. They would try to console me with a hug or a kiss, but I just laughed through the tears. I could not convince them that everything was okay. I am not a person who cries very often so it was extremely frustrating to suddenly become a watering can! The cross examinations on safety measures made my kids wary. "Do you know what to do if something happened to me?" I would ask them fiercely. "What do you dial in an emergency?" "What is our address?" "What is our phone number?" "Do you know how to get in contact with your dad?" They could tell by the urgency in my voice and the randomness of my asking that something was up with mom. Isaac would laugh and say, "Mom, you will be fine. Nothing is going to happen."
But he was not seeing the things I was seeing.
Slice. Slice. Slice. I chopped the carrot, cutting though the hardness. Chop. Chop. Chop. The butcher knife was large and sharp. My hand shook unsteadily as I wielded it to mince the bits. It slid suddenly, puncturing my flesh, sending an arcing spray of crimson across the kitchen counter. The bleeding was wild and uncontrollable. I grabbed my wrist but the blood ran through the seams of my fingers. I could not stop it. A rusty smell invaded my nose and a metallic taste smothered my tongue. I was drowning in blood. I can see it in my head. It flashes in my mind, a cloud of darkness to follow.
The logical part of me told myself that this would pass. Things would get better. It would be okay and I would live to see another day. And if things didn't improve, then I could go to my doctor and have a prescription written up for some meds. It was considered quite normal nowadays and people didn't immediately assume you were Susan Smith. I didn't want to go on medication though. That would probably make matters worse. Antidepressants and Tiffany do not mix! I had been there before. In my senior year of high school I overdosed on Prozac and Tylenol, taking so much that I spent a week in the ICU and several more in the psych ward (but that, my friends, is another long, crazy story.) I am usually an even keeled person (minus that stint the fall of my senior year.) I am the stable one. The normal one. The person people look at and say, "That gal has got it together!" And that is what I tried to tell myself. Over and over again. But, that logical gal got smothered with a pillow about three weeks postpartum. The darkness descended.
The water was warm, close to hot, and soaked into my skin, soothing the aches of the day. The piano solo was playing on the radio and calming the anxiety that had built up from a list of endless tasks. Relaxation set in, causing my eyelids to droop. The bathtub sloped in a restful angle, allowing my back to fall naturally and encouraging a sleepy state. I fell into the depths of slumber, my body slowly sinking in the water. The bubbles filled my nose as I breathed in the warm liquid, a nightcap to end the day. I could not breathe. My lungs were filling up quickly. I could see the water rising, as though my lungs were a measuring cup. I can see it in my head. It flashes in my mind, a cloud of darkness to follow.
Though it may be disputed by those who know me, I am not crazy. I knew I needed help. I was suffering from PPD. Depression is a sinking ship but there is a life raft. It was not thrown to me though. It had been there all the time, wrapped around my waist, holding me up above the surface even when I stopped treading water. God. My glorious, wonderful God. He had not abandoned me! He was holding me in His magnificent hands, saving me from the murky depths of darkness. He heard my prayers, murmured softly at first then becoming a raging plea for shelter from the black abyss. And He calmed me. The light was there, giving me an immediate steadiness. I knew I could conquer this. It would not consume me. I promised myself that I would not need medication. I could fight this with Christ. Christ is my healer. He would shepherd me through the despair and rage I felt. When angst surfaced, I prayed. When a hint of darkness emerged, I sang worship songs. Praise God! When a negative thought tried to explode into my life, I read Scripture. Daily devotions, sermon podcasts, and biblical commentaries followed. God is sovereign! God is victorious! I enlisted the prayers of others and soon had an army of prayer warriors. Romans 8 was a balm for my soul, the word of God spoken directly to my heart: 26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. Almighty God knew of my need before I could stutter out a single syllable. My Lord was at work when I had not known there was even work to be done: 28 And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. The struggles I had been going through may have been difficult for me to handle. But they were not for God. And God has my back: 38 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. WOO HOO! Amazing! Hallelujah! AWESOME!
THE END.
At least that is the way I should end it. Because it was the end. The end of the hurt, the darkness, the anger, the rage, and the end of the DEATH THREATS. It took much courage for me to write this. I am an introvert. I like to keep my private life private. But I am also called by Christ to share my testimony. I haven't always done so. Lately, God has called for me to do so more than ever. I pray that this post helps someone who is going through any type of depression. Or any struggle. The life raft --the Giver of Life--is there.
The End.
(for real this time!) ;-D
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
The Time Has Come...Agh!
Thirteen years have passed since I gave birth to my firstborn child. Isaac Jacob Gaskin was born on Wednesday, January 27th, 1999. I am now a parent of a teenager. AGH!
It truly amazes me how fast time passes. It seems like just yesterday that I held that sweet baby boy, cleaned up the Vaseline mess he smeared all over the walls and in his HAIR, beamed with pride as he read chapter books at the age of four, cheered him on in Little League, and got on him about being nice to his sisters. Okay, that last one was yesterday. But it is scary thing to stop and realize that somehow time slipped by without my noticing his transformation. It seems like it happened overnight really. I went to bed one night, tucking him in with a kiss to waking up with a kid as tall as me rubbing sleep out of his eyes the next morning. He has the beginnings of a mustache and leg hair. He wears deodorant. His shoe size is a 10.5...in Men's! He is outgrowing clothes by leaps and bounds! And is leaping and bounding to breakfast, lunch, and dinner....and morning snack, mid-morning snack, afternoon snack, late evening snack, and when-mom-isn't-looking snack! I look at my 7 week old baby boy, Taite, and then I look at Isaac and am absolutely stunned at the transformation.
Of course the scariest realization is that next school year, Isaac will be a freshman in high school. High school. Yeah, I said high school. HIGH SCHOOL! AGH! That means dating, driving, and college tours! I did take Isaac out to the car and sat him in the driver's seat. I had him put his foot on the brake. I explained the different gears. I had him shift it into drive. Then I had him slowly take his foot off the brake. The car slowly rolled forward. Hit the brake! He did and nearly bounced out of the seat. I smiled, laughed, and nearly had a heart attack at the same time. He put it back in park, thankfully. His first driving lesson.
And only four short years until I will be really saying goodbye. College years. My heart breaks just thinking about them. After all, this is my right hand man we're talking about here. My first born child. "Don't start crying, mom!" Isaac tells me every time I say that. And then, of course, that makes me want to cry even more. Isaac may be going through that typical fog called adolescence but he is my "little man." My helper. My confidante. When things are going crazy I can look at him, make a sarcastic remark, and hear his laugh (instead of the blank stares or attitude I get from the girls.) He has helped me take care of his sisters and dotes on his baby brother. He is passionate about reading just like I am. It still amazes him that I can pick a book for him and know that he will like it, even though he always looks skeptical. And then, of course, he loves it and can't wait to get to the library to check out the sequel or another by the same author.
The time has come to teach him all those things that I haven't gotten to...like all the popular songs when I was a teen, how to tie a tie, how to love an original and not a re-make, how to appreciate old black and white movies that have (gasp!) no special effects, and how to be a gentleman. The time has come to prepare for letting him handle responsibility on his own and....the consequences when he doesn't. The time has come to prepare myself. For hard talks. For difficult emotions. For silence. For goodbyes. For a new phase of life.
AGH!
(And yes, I did cry while writing this.)
It truly amazes me how fast time passes. It seems like just yesterday that I held that sweet baby boy, cleaned up the Vaseline mess he smeared all over the walls and in his HAIR, beamed with pride as he read chapter books at the age of four, cheered him on in Little League, and got on him about being nice to his sisters. Okay, that last one was yesterday. But it is scary thing to stop and realize that somehow time slipped by without my noticing his transformation. It seems like it happened overnight really. I went to bed one night, tucking him in with a kiss to waking up with a kid as tall as me rubbing sleep out of his eyes the next morning. He has the beginnings of a mustache and leg hair. He wears deodorant. His shoe size is a 10.5...in Men's! He is outgrowing clothes by leaps and bounds! And is leaping and bounding to breakfast, lunch, and dinner....and morning snack, mid-morning snack, afternoon snack, late evening snack, and when-mom-isn't-looking snack! I look at my 7 week old baby boy, Taite, and then I look at Isaac and am absolutely stunned at the transformation.
Of course the scariest realization is that next school year, Isaac will be a freshman in high school. High school. Yeah, I said high school. HIGH SCHOOL! AGH! That means dating, driving, and college tours! I did take Isaac out to the car and sat him in the driver's seat. I had him put his foot on the brake. I explained the different gears. I had him shift it into drive. Then I had him slowly take his foot off the brake. The car slowly rolled forward. Hit the brake! He did and nearly bounced out of the seat. I smiled, laughed, and nearly had a heart attack at the same time. He put it back in park, thankfully. His first driving lesson.
And only four short years until I will be really saying goodbye. College years. My heart breaks just thinking about them. After all, this is my right hand man we're talking about here. My first born child. "Don't start crying, mom!" Isaac tells me every time I say that. And then, of course, that makes me want to cry even more. Isaac may be going through that typical fog called adolescence but he is my "little man." My helper. My confidante. When things are going crazy I can look at him, make a sarcastic remark, and hear his laugh (instead of the blank stares or attitude I get from the girls.) He has helped me take care of his sisters and dotes on his baby brother. He is passionate about reading just like I am. It still amazes him that I can pick a book for him and know that he will like it, even though he always looks skeptical. And then, of course, he loves it and can't wait to get to the library to check out the sequel or another by the same author.
The time has come to teach him all those things that I haven't gotten to...like all the popular songs when I was a teen, how to tie a tie, how to love an original and not a re-make, how to appreciate old black and white movies that have (gasp!) no special effects, and how to be a gentleman. The time has come to prepare for letting him handle responsibility on his own and....the consequences when he doesn't. The time has come to prepare myself. For hard talks. For difficult emotions. For silence. For goodbyes. For a new phase of life.
AGH!
(And yes, I did cry while writing this.)
Saturday, January 14, 2012
One Year Later...
One year ago today we closed on our house in Ohio. We have officially lived here one year. Wow. This year has gone by fast. It really only feels like 4 or 5 months have gone by. But...it has been a year! Many things have happened in this past 12 months. The church we moved up here to help has grown and I have witnessed baptisms and new creations. I have entered into a new family that has been there at the drop of a hat to help us and support us. I have gained many friends in our outstanding homeschool group who have been so encouraging and helpful. And we welcomed a new member into our family! Yeah!
Back around Christmas was when I first realized that we had almost been here a year. I was overwhelmed by the unsettling feeling of having wasted a year. Thanks to encroaching PPD (post-partum depression) I was feeling a bit lost and rather bitter about this year in Ohio. When those negative feelings settle in....watch out! Giving in to my PPD, I let my mind linger in dangerous territory (an upcoming post will be on this PPD battle) and began building up a list of things I had lost this year.
The list went something like this:
1) My land: Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to live in the beautiful countryside and have land to roam and use. We worked hard to get that place and find our little slice of paradise. Brian had his hunting and I had my beautiful solitude. Tierney had room for horses and we could be self-sustaining. We lost all that.
2) My family: Having parents near never seemed so very crucial until I found myself pregnant and being without my mother during a time that was so near to both of our hearts. Very difficult. Also, having my parents struggle with health issues and not being able to go and give them the same love and support. Frustrating.
3) Friends: The majority of our friends live in Kentucky. Friends from our youth, friends from adulthood. Enough said.
4) Establishment: When we moved from Louisville out to the country, we had to re-establish ourselves in the community. Being in a small town atmosphere where everyone knows everyone it took nearly ten years, but we had made it. Moving to Ohio....we had to re-establish ourselves all over again.
5) Our vacation: Because of the move we didn't have the money to take a vacation. This year we won't have the money because we are going to Haiti instead. I so miss Folly Beach!
6) Our Retirement: We cashed out Brian's IRA to help with our move. We currently have $0 money saved for retirement. A very daunting feeling!
7)The lake: Since I was 6 months old, I have gone camping at Barren River Lake. We used to spend weeks there in the summer and it is a family tradition that we wanted to continue with our own children. We own a trailer and a boat. But with being so very far from there, we moved our boat to Lake Cumberland and are thinking about selling the trailer. This past summer was the first summer I did not go to Barren. And we only took out the boat twice. Gone is that tradition.
8) Writing: I cannot say exactly why I have not been writing but in the past year, I have neglected my writing. Really. I know this is the most shocking to those who know me well since I am known for using napkins, receipts, even kids coloring pages to write on when those creative juices get flowing. I have always been a writer...well, at least since 4th grade when I made my first book entitled, "Michelle's Life," that was written on wide-ruled paper and bound by yarn. (I still have this, btw.) But, it was like a switch was flipped. I could not muster up the will to write. Believe me, I tried. I sat there with pen in hand waiting. I bought one of those stupid books with writing prompts and activities. I prayed, because I felt like I was wasting God's gift to me. I dug out projects that I had left abandoned but no inspiration came. When I forced the writing, it was lame and I tossed it. Ultimate loss and frustration.
9) Brian's career: Brian switched his major from education to Computer IT (sorry, I can't recall the technical position). He had tried to make his dream of being a full-time football coach mesh with this new change of locale but the local universities did not offer exactly what he would need to do so without him having to take a step back. So, he gave up that dream and decided that coaching part-time would have to be good enough. I think this broke my heart the most, though I never told him so. (Sorry, Brian.)
Having said all that, it is obvious I had built up a pretty strong list for being bitter. Look at all I had lost. I allowed that rage to boil up inside of me which oozed out on others around me. I was drowning in self-loathing. I broke down in prayer when I could take no more. An amazing thing happened then: God revealed something very crucial that I had forgotten. He reminded me that I had given my life to Him. All of it. Not just the parts that were convenient or I liked least or the ones that fit neatly into my schedule. And while this is required of a true follower of Christ, I was reminded by Him that this is what I prayed for. I remembered, then, praying to be a Living Sacrifice. I told Him that I would give up all for Him. Suddenly that list did not seem like much at all. I wanted to be rid of the familiar. I wanted to be rid of my comforts. Because by doing so, I would be closer to Him. I could bring Him glory. I could serve my purpose!
Since then, I have started a new list. A list of things that I can lose during this next year.
It goes something like this: 1) bitterness, 2) pride, 3) anger, 4) selfishness, 5) material possessions, etc....
Back around Christmas was when I first realized that we had almost been here a year. I was overwhelmed by the unsettling feeling of having wasted a year. Thanks to encroaching PPD (post-partum depression) I was feeling a bit lost and rather bitter about this year in Ohio. When those negative feelings settle in....watch out! Giving in to my PPD, I let my mind linger in dangerous territory (an upcoming post will be on this PPD battle) and began building up a list of things I had lost this year.
The list went something like this:
1) My land: Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to live in the beautiful countryside and have land to roam and use. We worked hard to get that place and find our little slice of paradise. Brian had his hunting and I had my beautiful solitude. Tierney had room for horses and we could be self-sustaining. We lost all that.
2) My family: Having parents near never seemed so very crucial until I found myself pregnant and being without my mother during a time that was so near to both of our hearts. Very difficult. Also, having my parents struggle with health issues and not being able to go and give them the same love and support. Frustrating.
3) Friends: The majority of our friends live in Kentucky. Friends from our youth, friends from adulthood. Enough said.
4) Establishment: When we moved from Louisville out to the country, we had to re-establish ourselves in the community. Being in a small town atmosphere where everyone knows everyone it took nearly ten years, but we had made it. Moving to Ohio....we had to re-establish ourselves all over again.
5) Our vacation: Because of the move we didn't have the money to take a vacation. This year we won't have the money because we are going to Haiti instead. I so miss Folly Beach!
6) Our Retirement: We cashed out Brian's IRA to help with our move. We currently have $0 money saved for retirement. A very daunting feeling!
7)The lake: Since I was 6 months old, I have gone camping at Barren River Lake. We used to spend weeks there in the summer and it is a family tradition that we wanted to continue with our own children. We own a trailer and a boat. But with being so very far from there, we moved our boat to Lake Cumberland and are thinking about selling the trailer. This past summer was the first summer I did not go to Barren. And we only took out the boat twice. Gone is that tradition.
8) Writing: I cannot say exactly why I have not been writing but in the past year, I have neglected my writing. Really. I know this is the most shocking to those who know me well since I am known for using napkins, receipts, even kids coloring pages to write on when those creative juices get flowing. I have always been a writer...well, at least since 4th grade when I made my first book entitled, "Michelle's Life," that was written on wide-ruled paper and bound by yarn. (I still have this, btw.) But, it was like a switch was flipped. I could not muster up the will to write. Believe me, I tried. I sat there with pen in hand waiting. I bought one of those stupid books with writing prompts and activities. I prayed, because I felt like I was wasting God's gift to me. I dug out projects that I had left abandoned but no inspiration came. When I forced the writing, it was lame and I tossed it. Ultimate loss and frustration.
9) Brian's career: Brian switched his major from education to Computer IT (sorry, I can't recall the technical position). He had tried to make his dream of being a full-time football coach mesh with this new change of locale but the local universities did not offer exactly what he would need to do so without him having to take a step back. So, he gave up that dream and decided that coaching part-time would have to be good enough. I think this broke my heart the most, though I never told him so. (Sorry, Brian.)
Having said all that, it is obvious I had built up a pretty strong list for being bitter. Look at all I had lost. I allowed that rage to boil up inside of me which oozed out on others around me. I was drowning in self-loathing. I broke down in prayer when I could take no more. An amazing thing happened then: God revealed something very crucial that I had forgotten. He reminded me that I had given my life to Him. All of it. Not just the parts that were convenient or I liked least or the ones that fit neatly into my schedule. And while this is required of a true follower of Christ, I was reminded by Him that this is what I prayed for. I remembered, then, praying to be a Living Sacrifice. I told Him that I would give up all for Him. Suddenly that list did not seem like much at all. I wanted to be rid of the familiar. I wanted to be rid of my comforts. Because by doing so, I would be closer to Him. I could bring Him glory. I could serve my purpose!
Since then, I have started a new list. A list of things that I can lose during this next year.
It goes something like this: 1) bitterness, 2) pride, 3) anger, 4) selfishness, 5) material possessions, etc....
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