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I'd like to think I can keep it clean but that's just not where I am. I have mental illness...I cannot say it enough lest someone forget that fact. It affects every single thing I do and everything I don't. It is an extremely heavy burden at times and this is one of those times. I'd love to spare everyone what will surely be like upchucking my insides which are oozing with black, ugly negativity but.....
I went to the og-gyn. to have a well-woman to have her run blood work just to see if my thyroid and Vitamin D and all that are okay, just checking all the underlying factors to be sure they are not contributing to my junk. She told me, as all doctors do, after reading my health history, that perhaps it is raising a child with a disability that is causing my depression and anxiety. Well, what caused it the ten years I had it before he was born? I have a chemical imbalance rude lady with a bad wig, not a bad hand in life. Perhaps your wig is too tight. Now finish determining that those two lumps in my breasts are in fact my breasts and let me put my paper "gown" back on! She wasn't too happy when I told her I had eggs for breakfast. Turns out I didn't get the memo that says you can't eat before having blood work. That means I have to go back in a week. I'm starting to detect some circumstances in my life that could be causing depression and anxiety!!! She will check it for all the things I asked her to if she can read the little bits of chicken scratch she wrote on my chart while she was pretending to listen to me. "No Miss Piggy, I really do think you should check my thyroid, and my iron levels and.....oh yeah, you must be right. I'm tired cuz' I have a child with a disability. That must be it."
"Doctors are no damn good!"
adapted from a quote by Mamaw

Feel it?

Harris had a stomach ache this morning. He kept grabbing my hand, lifting up his shirt, and putting my hand on his tummy and saying,"Feel it?" "No, buddy. I can't feel it from the outside, it's on the inside. But I believe you when you tell me it hurts."
So true, so true.

Mental illness. It's a funny thing. People think if they can look at you and you seem happy or look good, or are "functioning" that you are not really ill. Like you can tell by looking who is wearing sunblock and who isn't. We are all standing in the sunshine, but some of us can absorb it, and for some of us it is "blocked". The joy is blocked. Mental illness is like wearing joyblock all over your soul. And no one else can see it, but you know it's there. Don't ever tell someone who has mental illness that they "seem so happy" or that you think they have a great life. How can you decide that it is great, when they are the one who lives with little to no joy? It's a problem with the brain, not the life.

"A child embarrassed by a parent, is just a child who hasn't lived long enough."
I'm going to keep this in mind. Faith is coming into the age, and the other two are never far behind her, that I embarrass her. She rarely likes what I have to say, how I say it, or that I'm saying anything about "it" at all. It is hurtful and sad, and yet, just part of life. We aren't parents because we get thanked profusely for it. We don't love them because they love us (although they do) we would parent and love them no matter what. I will continue to keep this in mind as well. There are some answers I really want from Heavenly Father right now. I want those answers desperately. There are some things in my life I really need help with, and changing things that aren't working for me is something I want to take place immediately...I don't like to wait on anyone...least of all He who I know holds the best answer, the only real answer. But I am deciding to choose faith. I choose to believe that he is a loving father who does not withhold things from me to be mean or to torture me. he loves me and wishes to help me succeed and so I choose to believe that those answers will come in His own due time. And until then, I will submit with patience to all he sees fit. I choose faith.