1 year.

January 25, 2016.

This picture.  Hard to look at.  I remember taking this picture.  What I didn't know was that it was four days before my whole world would be shaken up and I would walk out the door and leave my family behind.  I didn't know that in four days I would finally have become so broken that I could no longer stand on my own two feet.  Here is the scene:  It was about 3:30pm.  My kids would be off the bus in an hour and I had been in that exact spot since they left 7 hours earlier.  I became fiercely overwhelmed with even the idea of their presence.  I wanted to see them so badly.  I wanted to hold them more than anything.  I needed them.  The problem was, I couldn't let them see me.  I COULD NOT stop crying long enough to eat dinner with them.  I COULD NOT make my voice sound ok when they would bust through the door to tell me about their day and I sure as hell could not rise up and care for them.  I was losing my fight…temporarily, and I knew it.   I remember thinking that I am going to take a picture of this life because one day- I wasn't going to live like this anymore. I knew that every time I looked in the mirror and stared into my own eyes, I could see the pain so vividly.  I also knew somewhere, deep in my soul, that I'd rise and I wanted to remember the pain of the fall.  This picture is a reminder of how far I've come on some pretty hard days.  It will forever remain right in my phone as a reminder of just how far I've begun to rise. 

I'm weird about dates.  Anniversaries of things- good or bad.  Yesterday I felt sick all day.  I'm never sick but yet somehow my whole body ached.  I felt like I was coming down with every illness possible and even though I forced myself to go watch kids sports- thats about all I had to give yesterday.  It also occurred to me what the date was and as I woke up feeling fine today- I know that the anticipation of how today would feel, actually physically took me over.  It is also zero surprise to me that my little Easton, who has been absolutely awesome for over a year- woke up with a fever.  January 29th is  a day now.  It's one that will always have something surrounding it.  

Today its been one year since I boarded that plane all alone and flew to an unknown place in the middle of the night in a state I had never been to  and admitted myself to a program I had only heard of days before.  Today its been one year since my kids got off the bus and I met them at the couch to tell them that I was leaving them for 30 days and I broke their hearts in half.  Today its been one year since I made one of the biggest decisions of my life.  Today marks one year that I decided to take care of myself.  Today is a one year anniversary of ending the private battle that quite possibly could have taken my life.  Today, I no longer feel that I won't survive.  Today, I'm positive I will.

When I arrived in Tucson, Arizona at the Cottonwood De Tucson Treatment center, I told them I was depressed and a little anxious.  I went there and I wanted drugs.  Any drugs they had to make me feel better and send me home.  I wanted something to stop the tears and the pain on my heart- now.  They did nothing.  Not the first day, not the second day, not the third day.  My fight or flight response kicked in and I decided I should leave since they were going to do NOTHING about my crying.   In reality, they were just observing.  To give a little background of what this place was like, I think its important to share that people were there for all different reasons.  We had alcoholics, drug addicts, suicidal people who fortunately had not succeeded in their attempts.  We had wild criminals sent directly from prison and we had Mom's who had just buried their children.  There were people who were depressed and there were people with horribly abusive pasts.  I thought some of these people were so unlike me.  It wasn't until the only chair open for lunch was with the man that had been sent straight here from his 7 year stint in federal prison.  With my makeup free, tear stained, sad self, I took my tray over and sat down.  He looked at me and my eyes looked up and met his.  They were wild eyes but they also had a sadness- I won't forget them.  Next, he asked ME how I was.  He told me about his children and his wife and the stories about why he was in prison.  He told me how afraid he was about doing a life now.  He didn't have a drivers license or a house or a job or really any way to get any of that since most of his adult life was in and out of prison.  On top of that he was addicted to drugs that he somehow had been getting in prison all those years and they were sending him "home" in a few days but he had no idea what address to give the cab.  I learned something right then and there.  We are all the same.  I was not a criminal and addicted to drugs and homeless, BUT I had the exact same type of fear and loneliness and pain as this man.   It was the same for every person in that center that came and went throughout my 30 days.  Its like they say, "Pain demands to be felt," and we all had pain.  What we did with the pain that we carried varied greatly from person to person but we were all there as a result of our pain.  In my eyes- we were all equally the same.

Monday morning FINALLY rolled around and I met my therapist that would be my point person for my stay.  Within the first 5 minutes of meeting her alone in her office she said to me a couple of things I won't forget.  The first was that she said my whole demeanor including my eyes, posture, voice told her that my "cup was empty." She told me that a very important lesson to learn in life was that you cannot give from an empty cup.  I say that to myself daily.  She also said that behind those sad eyes that she could see a spark and in my voice, every so often, an energy snuck through that told her- I was going to be fine.  When she said those things to me, I just cried some more.  All along, Ive known that I'm a fighter.  I will battle my way through anything and part of me had thought I'd lost that but to hear her say that she could still see it, without even really knowing me- gave me all the hope in the world.  I was still in there. 

Next stop was the Psychiatrist.  Finally the man that would give me the drugs to make me feel better.  I sat in his office, crying as usual and told him just how depressed I was.  I gave him my 20 year eating disorder history, my current job that I worked, my family history.  I told him about my kids and the battle we had been through with Easton.  I told him all the things that I am a part of and do and that somehow I am depressed and can't get up anymore.  He didn't say a word.  He looked at me and watched me so intently.  He took some notes, he shook his head and then he said- "I'd like you to come with me and I'd like to give you a little medication to help you calm down and breathe for a moment."  I followed him and took the pill.  As I sat back down, it only took a few minutes to feel my shoulders release just a little and move down away from my ears.  I felt my leg that was kicking so wildly, slow down.  I felt my hands unclinch in my lap and I took a breath that actually didn't hurt. As we sat in his office,  he very matter of factly said to me- depression is not your major issue.  You have more energy leaving your body in this moment alone that anyone would think possible.  Your anxiety is your problem.  I assured him that I laid in bed all day or curled up in a ball on my floor and sobbed all day so I was pretty sure I knew what my problem was.  He politely disagreed and told me his plan.   He referred to my anxiety as a light switch with a dimmer. My switch was all the way up and stuck there.  He wanted to help me bring it down just a bit but not to dim my light at all.  He explained to me exactly what he thought was happening and I actually agreed.  Anxiety is the highest energy expenditure.  My anxiety being so high was sending me into multiple attacks a day.  Those attacks were exhausting and depleting my body and sending me into bed.  Being in bed doing nothing made my feel so bad and my anxiety so high that I would go into another series of attacks as soon as my body recouped some energy.  Again and again and again.  There was no win.  There was no resolve.  There was anxiety and pain and crying.  I was stuck.  He prescribed some medications that we were able to tweak almost daily because I was inpatient.  I attended all the groups, went to all the classes, did all my homework and worked this program with all I had.  Day after day I came out with no makeup and my hair pulled back.  Then one day I wore lip gloss.  Then one day lipgloss and mascara.  One day I actually opened my mouth and spoke to people without being spoken to.  And then one day, I smiled.  A real smile because something actually made me feel ok.  The process of finding my way back to some light wasn't just solved with mediation.  It was hard work.  It was reliving and experiencing hard things and meeting things head on and that you'd prefer to avoid.  It was a journey through darkness and into all the light.

So, its been a year.  A lot more happened in that stay and a ton has happened since Ive gotten home.  I still don't know exactly how I got to that position but I am committed to staying out of it.  I take meds now that I was always against, I never miss an appointment and I still talk to my therapist whenever I need her.  I'm learning to try to just be me.  No matter what that looks like- to be authentically who I feel I am.  I'm making big changes and slow changes and trying to find what makes me happy at the same time that I take care of my family.  I'm learning that you can do both.  You don't have to give yourself up completely because you  have children.  In fact it should be the opposite.  I want to show them that I am not perfect and I don't do things like everyone else- but I show up every day anyway.  That is exactly what I want for them.  I teach them that nobody likes perfect, we like real.  

I take none of what has occurred in my life lightly.  I'm constantly working to better myself and hopefully create a reaction to help other better themselves as well.  Here are some personal changes I have made and some exciting plans I have for my future.

*  I chose happiness over money. And, Nope- I don't think they are synonymous.  I quit my job and gave up a lot of money to have more time to give to my kids.  I didn't want to be grumpy and rushed at the beginning and end of every day anymore and I didn't want to go to a job that my heart wasn't in.  Yes, I miss having extra money but what I don't miss- is all the reasons I gave it up.  I did some

thing different and I'm ok with that.

* I've given back to the NICU in so many ways and Hurley Medical Center as a whole.  I serve on the Foundation Board and a related committee.  I show up anytime they ask Easton to be a part of something and I've raised over $100k for them.  What I haven't done… is figure out how to be OK inside the doors of the actual Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  I used to visit when he was young and then I just stopped because I swear to you that the air is too thick.  I have my own personal trauma inside those walls.  I watched my son almost die for so many days in there.  The machines that saved his life, the monitors that constantly beep always haunt me.  I'm going to fix it.  I've signed up to start volunteering my time to hold babies for three hours a week inside those walls.  Babies who are not fortunate enough for whatever reason to have parents that stayed around the clock like I did.  I am going to give back in a way that isn't monetary and help to bring myself back around to full gratitude instead of fear and to love on babies in need.  I'm terrified for day one and I couldn't be more excited to confront my fear and provide love all at once.  You guys, this is what its all about.

*  Fitness. Let me explain this obsession.  Its all about the mental toughness.  I started out always liking to lift weights.  I had many personal trainers over the years.  Then I ventured into crossfit for 4 years.  I never played sports or was competitive but something about how hard this was- kept me going.  I loved the challenge of your body always wanting to quit but my mind never letting me.  I thought it was a great way to distract from the world and to have personal goals to set that didn't include anyone but me.  I still love CrossFit but have taken a break to try something new.  I am back to being trained by a trainer 5 days a week.  I wanted to put on muscle and was having a hard time doing that with all the cardio involved in Crossfit.  I was in shape for sure, but always so thin.  My body has changed so much in the last 3 months and of course I am all in.  Just like with everything I do- I go all the way or not at all.  I follow a ridiculous diet of SEVEN meals a day and I spend just as much time bitching about that as I do actually eating it.  I'm never going to be 100% satisfied with my body or how I look but that is the part of the chase I love.  Its not a race to win- its like a race for life.  Most of the girls that train with my trainer compete in fitness shows.  I joined but said "Not a chance of a show," for multiple reasons.  I can't walk in heels and I particularly don't want to learn in those clear, high ones.   I don't feel like butt tape is something I want to experience and getting waxed- I'm just not ready for that kind of pain.  However, the more I think about it and the better shape I get in, my mind does tend to think about being 36 years old, in a skimpy suit on a stage and actually winning. Hmmm, it kinda checks a cool box in life that many don't have the discipline to do.  I get asked by lots of people if I will ever do it and I'll tell you the truth.  It's a maybe.   

*  I come from successful people.  I have good role models in that sense.  This is a huge part of the reason that I worked in the family business for 16 years.  Its what I thought I had to do.  Its where I thought my spot was.  Here is what I realized.  I'm different.  I don't act like everyone else and I don't want the same exact things as someone else.  You know what I do love.  Fitness.  Workout Clothes.  Sharing and talking about things I love.  I decided to become a Personal Trainer and am currently studying for the exam to become certified.  I want a job that I can still be at all my kids stuff.  I don't want it to take away from all the reasons I left my job but its something I love and I want really badly to kick peoples asses and show them how much tougher they are than they believe…because that is truly what the gym is to me.  Its all about what you've got to give!   I've wanted to open a gym my whole life and make it just how I want it.  All a representation of how my brain works and what I find motivating and awesome.  Its something I have always wanted to do but never thought possible. I can picture the entire layout in my head. Baby, I'm gonna find a way.  Just watch.

As I finish writing this, a whole year later, I actually feel OK.  I thought I would feel worse today but I don't.  I know one thing for sure- you never ever know what your next year will look like.  What I do know- is I'm tough enough for the ride.

My wish for all of you is that you have the fight and courage that I have found.  The best thing I have ever learned is that I don't have to walk the line.  I don't have to do what is expected and I am OK anyway.  Everyone else's approval of me is just that- what you really need at night when your head hit the pillow- is approval of yourself.  Go fill your cups!

2017- I'm here.

2017, I made it to you.  Barely.  But, I made it.  I've seen so many people reflect on their previous year and their hopes and dreams for the coming year.  Some were sad, some were awesome, some were over the top and some were just OK.  I've been thinking about my year all day.  2016 started very rough as I had to leave my family and surrender myself to a treatment facility for my Anxiety and Depression that took over my life.  January 29, 2016 was the actual day I gave up…or so I thought.  I actually wasn't giving up at all by getting treatment, I was really rising up but I just didn't know it. If you think about it, this means that 2015 sucked quite a lot too because I spent the latter half of that year in tears hidden in my bed.  So, to put it mildly- shit has been hard!  For too long.

Here is what I do know:  I know that I've changed.  Thats it, thats all I know.

I got lost.  Somewhere along my journey I either forgot who I was or I fell into a place where I became what I thought I should be.  We all know that I am no stranger to treatment centers having been admitted at least 20 times for an Eating Disorder from the ages of 12-23.  But, this treatment was for something completely different.  Sometimes I think it was actually treatment for all the treatment.  My reasons for being there were completely different yet entirely the same.  What I mean is, I wasn't starving myself in terms of nutrition but I think I may have been starving my soul.  My true self.  Me, as I am meant to be.  Both are equally destructive and harmful.  I know this may sound confusing but let me just spew my thoughts and see if it makes sense to both you reading- and to myself.  

I was always a worrier and always a pleaser.  I did the things I was supposed to do. I did what was asked of me, I wasn't argumentative, I got good grades, I went to college, I worked in the family business.   What is interesting is that I did all these things while starving myself nearly to death.  I wasn't going to take out any frustrations or struggles on anyone else so I did it to myself.  The ironic part is that it hurt a lot of people.  Not their physical body like mine, but emotional torture and fear.  So, as  I was being this perfect girl who fell into line, I was also rebelling like hell in the only way I knew how.   I was actually being me but sort of in an undercover way.  Years went on and I bought my first house and I got married and had the children I'd always dreamed of…exactly two years apart - just as the plan was to be.  My pregnancies were complicated and then there was the experience of almost losing my son.  I coped with those struggles by focusing on my kids.  All the heartache and pain was for someone other than me, so I was able to put myself completely aside and focus on my family.

Several more years went on and I created a charity to give back,  I continued to work and upgrade my home every few years.  I busied my self with the kids and signed them up for any and all activities possible.  Anything to push all focus off of me.  This worked.  Super well, in fact.  For a long time. But, guess what?  You cannot hide from yourself forever.  I've written before that I heard that pain demands to be felt and this is exactly what I mean.  You see, all those things that I really felt inside my soul:  all those thoughts that were darker than they should be, and all the fear of being who I really am- they eventually fought their way out.  And, there I was.  Still me.

A few years ago I started realizing that I actually didn't want to work in the family business.  I realized that it was a position that allowed me to be an involved parent and to not miss school parties and allowed me to be home when they were sick.  It gave me the time off when all of my pregnancies went crazy and I never had to fear losing my job.  It was good financial security and it was everything that maybe everyone else would dream of.  I heard for years how "lucky" I was and how I "had it made."  I listened to all that and did actually know I was very fortunate however, it didn't make me happy.  I questioned my judgement that if I was "lucky" enough to have this "perfect" scenario and I wasn't happy with it- then something must be wrong with me.  I'm screwed up or I'm ungrateful.  All negatives pointing to me when in reality- it simply just wasn't my dream.  It wasn't the career I thought up and started from the ground up and built and nurtured to its success.  It was my Mom's.  And, she's wildly successful and I admire her greatly…but that doesn't mean that I had to be a part of it.  I just didn't know that last part.  

The reason I tell the story about my job is because I think those feelings of questioning my own judgement and trusting my true self started when I realized that I didn't like my job.  Quitting that job was an incredibly challenging situation for me.  It was about to be the first bold move I made…that was maybe going to go against what was expected of me.  It was the first big move I made for me.

When I look at 2015 and 2016, I actually lost a lot.  I lost my sense of safety and security and I mean that in every possible way you can imagine.  I lost trust in everything and everyone and most of the people did nothing to lose it.  I became a recluse and pulled myself away from most situations.  I had so much going on internally that I simply couldn't take pressure from any other person or place.  I needed to kind of ride things out and see if I could become me again.  Actually me, not the "me" everyone knew.  I've learned a lot through therapy over the years and I think the combination of the therapists I worked with in Arizona and my current therapist- I've been a whole lot more "me" lately.  Everyone thinks I have this tough girl attitude and rough exterior and maybe I do.  However, I believe its more of a shield of self preservation.  Of protecting what I think and what I want and not allowing anyone to decide for me or to make expectations that maybe I don't even want to meet.  I'm protecting myself from losing myself.  Again.

I've come a long way in 2016 and I've got so much further to go.  I need to let go of so much and I need to hold onto a lot at the same time.  Its a complicated and messy picture and I am positive I'll very sloppily move my way through.  Here is the best part.  I actually have some goals.  I have plans.  I have things that I want to make happen.  Interests I want to fulfill.  Plans that are made up of things that make me happy.  Not the fall in line and do what I should plans, but things Lindsay wants to do.  Its been a long time since I have cared enough to want to make plans and goals and this year I did it all in my head without even realizing it.  My friends, thats a win.

My goals aren't classic like to- "Be more successful   Be a better Mom.  Be better at a specific sport or hobby."  My actual goal is to not lose me- and that single goal will allow all the others to happen.

2017 will be bumpy and to be fair, Im always a little scared.  I'm ok with it.   Im in a much better place than I've been in years and I am looking forward to seeing what roads I travel next.  I'm going to try very hard to trust myself.   Praise the Lord, there is hope!


"The Comeback Is Always Stronger Than The Setback."  I believe.

Trust your gut!

I waited a minute to post this blog because I didn't want to place it in the middle of all the hate and anger on social media.  Is this Election over?  Can we all stop yelling at each other  and hating on everyone who doesn't think the same as us?  Most importantly, can Good Morning America go back to talking about other things I find far more interesting than those two individuals and can "This is Us" PLEASE stop being cancelled for debates and election coverage.  I like very few things on TV and I like that and I swear to God- its the only show that is cancelled almost every week!   Hopefully we can all rise up and move forward today just like we did yesterday and the day before and tomorrow.  I do not believe the world is going to end this week and therefore we better all keep plunging ahead.

This election actually made me think about something:  Control.  Control is something we all desperately grasp onto.  Whether it be something as important as having our vote as a means to try and control the Election or whether it be to control what people are going to do and say.  I grew up knowing that I could not control my surroundings.  I couldn't control things in my house, in my school and honestly in my own life.  This led me down a very rough path of destructive behaviors because that lack of control- was intolerable to me.  I needed control of something.  Since I couldn't control outside influences- I controlled my eating.  I could control that.  In a big and scary place- I taught myself from a young age that I could in fact find something to satisfy that need to control.  Something to put that anxiety into and into a place that was all about me.

Here is an example:  If you have children- you have learned that you cannot control another human on a whole other level.  This is supposed to be your dependent.  This is your child.  Do you really think you can make them sleep at 3AM if they just don't feel like it?  Nope.  Have you ever tried to get your child to stop screaming in a public place by bribing them with everything in the Universe?  Did they stop?  Probs not.  Mine never did.  How about the weather?  Cannot control the weather.  I actually feel connected to the Sun Gods and feel I can worship them well- but sometimes it still rains on my parade.  Its the way of life.   There are in fact things we just can not control, no matter how bad we feel we need to.

 People cannot control people.  We cannot control circumstances.  We can take action and try to sway things or prevent things from happening but at the end of the day- we can really only control our own actions and reactions- and if I'm being honest here, I cannot always control myself.  I definitely have a way I would like to react or handle things but a lot of times my mouth is not connected to my brain in the exact moment and I just say what I think without the filter process.  Here is another thing we can't control:  feelings.  This one is hard.  This one is the worst for me.  I come across to many people as cold and unapproachable and whatever- I get it.  However, that is not really the case.  I'm empathetic to a fault. Whenever someone is in a situation that I observe to be hard or scary or sad, I immediately try to place myself in their shoes.  I want to try on that suffering or fear and see how I make sense of it.  Obviously- I'm not like "Hey, give me a minute to react to you while I attempt to take a stroll in your shoes," but it happens on its own.  It gives me a new perspective on situations and usually helps me come up with better words to offer.  That works out well when its someone else.  How about when its me?  How about when I actually have to feel and dissect and react to my own feelings?  How about when I know they aren't what they should be? How about when I want them to change?  Yeah- so this is a different story all together.  I'm working through some stuff right now.  I have mixed feelings on situations that are hard to get through. I want to feel a certain way and do certain things and its really hard.  My heart and mind are often not in the same body.  Like they could not be more disconnected.  Throw my gut in there and we are practically in three different continents.  Here is what I am learning to trust.  My brain is annoying.  It needs to be tossed out of the equation all together because it likes to mix things up and spin them and complicate them and just make a mess.  So brain- out.  My heart likes to lead me.   I'm more sensitive than you think and it leads me to places I can get stuck in.  My heart is big.  Its giant and I think it barely fits inside my body because it often beats so hard that I think it might break out.  So my heart- its good.  BUT, it also gets me stuck.  The gut….bingo.  My gut doesn't lie.  Its the FIRST thing I try to feel when dealing with Easton and any health situation.  Its what tells me I can handle him at home, its what tells me he needs to be hospitalized and its what tells me when its safe to sleep and when I need to be awake to watch him.  The gut doesn't lie.  My gut is also what I need to look at with feelings.  My heart gets mushy, my brain is always a bad spot but there is a feeling in my gut that either tells me I'm right or I'm wrong.   The tricky part is I usually have to try the wrong before I get to the right.  But, eventually there is a place where it settles and I know just what to do.

The way I see it is that feelings and control go hand in hand.  We often feel a certain way and don't want to so we need to control it or can't and then hell breaks loose.  We start comin' out hot just like a boss trying to tell someone this or that or start changing things.  Usually, nine times out of ten, I bet that lands you right back where you started.  Its just a really hard thing.  For me, its all about figuring out what the controllables are and dealing with those.  Making myself understand the things I can't control and focus that energy somewhere else.  This often is just too hard for me.  A person with severe anxiety can't just say "Oh, OK.  That's out of my control…no biggie."  No way.  Someone like me needs to find an outlet of control.  This is where my fitness comes in.  My obsession with fitness doesn't hurt anyone.  It is all about me.  It only takes one out of twenty four hours and its something better for me to think about.  I look forward to that hour and I give it everything I got.  I put an entire days worth of energy into it and am now focusing on a meal plan that is fueling that workout so that I can actually see results of my effort.  This is what I mean:  I feel out of control in so many areas.  I picked an area I can control and I let my mind run with that.  It gives me a landing spot to come back to and it doesn't affect anyone else in my world.  Its a win-win.  Fitness isn't who I am, its simply what I do as an outlet and tool to carry me through.  And, hopefully I come out of it as a really jacked mother of three and if not- it was a hell of a lot better than crying on my floor, right?   Winning.

Thanksgiving is coming up.  If you have read this blog or met me in person- you know its my nemesis. Worst day of the year.  Here is my normal schpeal…Yes, I am thankful for a lot.  I do not need one day to tell people and I never will.  That day doesn't have a good track record with me and last year was the absolute icing on the cake as it began my decline of where I spent the evening locked in my bathroom on the floor crying and really didn't emerge from my house unless it was to go to the gym.  Not a good place to be.  This year- I am really hoping it feels different.  I'm for sure not celebrating Thanksgiving on the actual day.  I'll make sure my kids think a random day next week is the actual day and I'll make sure they have Turkey and stuffing and rolls and whatever else you are supposed to have and I will also promise you that not one single bite will be taken.  They will hate it and yell and not eat.  I'll make them express some gratitude in their life and then we are all going to move on and let that holiday go…  Don't judge.  Its not our best day.  However, we do Christmas REALLY well. We make up for our lack of Thanksgiving cheer and we go all out for the Christmas Season!

I certainly hope your Holiday season has you excited and not stressed.  They are just days, like all the other ones and the good new is we may have no control over them but they end every 24 hours!

 Trust your gut!

On Meds, Hard Stuff, Pain and Glennon!

I did it.  I've been laying in my bed since I put the kids on the bus just trying to escape all that is happening. My bed is my sanctuary.  It's my spot.  Kind of like my robe- its my comfort.  It's my place to go to pretend the world isn't happening.  As I laid there and did exactly the opposite of what I said I was going to do- which was come here to the blog- I remembered what happened last night.  I went to Glennon.  My most favorite, truth-telling human who makes me feel less insane and listened to all she had to say on just about everything.  It was incredible.  However, that's not what I remembered that got me out of my bed.  After the show and after the meet and greet- I was headed outside to the car.  A woman, with blonde hair and whose name I do remember but will not disclose since I didn't ask permission came through the door outside to yell my name.  "Lindsay!  Are you Lindsay?  I read your blog.  And, I think its fantastic.  Thank you for putting it out there."   I shook her hand, personally introduced myself and I will never forget her.  Thank you, kind woman, for going out of your way- to make my day.  Thank you for caring what I have to say.   Today, I climbed out of my bed and came here just because of you.

The road to Glennon.

   Lord knows I take the road less traveled.  Every time.  We've all addressed this.  We know this.  Yada Yada.  Moving on.  Lets talk about my road to see Glennon.  Well, it started about a year ago.  I saw she was coming to a church in Michigan.  I got tickets, made my friends get tickets, was so excited about the day…and then I bailed.  Insert Crossfit competition.  Stupid Crossfit competition trumped my Glennon night because, well fitness.  Fitness trumps all.  Duh,  rule of life.  Still not happy about it.  Still was annoyed all day.  Whatever.  It passed.  About a year later I noticed she is coming again.  This time I buy a ticket.  Tell my friends to buy a ticket but guess what?  Sold out.  Perf.  Didn't care.  Going Alone.   As luck would have it my dear friend, Krista, scores a ticket about two weeks ago.  Fantastic.  Now I get a partner in my crime.  So, show starts at 7:00PM and we are over an hour away.  Obviously we are concerned about missing a meal so we decide to leave at 3:00 so we can drive there and eat an early dinner and still be there by doors opening at 5:30PM.  Perfect plan. All goes well on the way down.  We laugh, listen to music and find a bar to grab a drink and food at.  After we eat we come out to a parking ticket.  Who in Gods name put the meter there while we were eating?  Neither of us saw a damn meter when we went in to eat so it can hardly be our fault that we didn't put money in it.  Moving on.  So, we get to the venue and they serve drinks.  In Glass.  Because I think they think adults can handle that.  Haha.  Not I!  I sit down in my second row seat and promptly dump my entire drink all over Krista and myself and chair.  Mostly Krista.  And that's just because I love her so much that I must have been basically sitting on her lap for this to happen.  Her silk shirt loved it.  No problem.  Again.  Next, we are soaking wet and waiting 1.5 hours for it start and so we grab our phones to check out whats happening in the world.  Except our phones are in Canada.  We were  most definitely in Grosse Pointe Farms but somehow to annoy the shit out of me- my phone decided it was in Canada.  Yay.  Oh you know, just another day.  Anyways, Glennon was adorable and animated and fun and talked about all the important stuff.  Marriage, play dates that all Mom's hate, perfect children that really aren't perfect, love, anxiety, suffering and pain.

 Pain resonated with me the most.  I'm in pain.  Have been for a long time.  I can smile and put on clothes and go out into the world now where I couldn't a year ago but I give meds the credit for that.  And that's totally fine by me because clearly I need a little something to help.  She talked about running from pain and hiding.  That's me.  That's what I used to do and sometimes still do. I was Anorexic for so long.  So many years of changing the pain.  Not walking through the pain of what was hurting but changing it to the pain of hunger, the pain of illness, the pain of fear.  What she said was really true.  Pain demands to be felt.  Basically, I numbed myself out and passed that pain on to my family.  My parents, sister, friends- anyone who cared about me- I gave them that pain and I took the lesser pain of an eating disorder.  Guess what?  That didn't fix it.  I overcame and went on to fix my life and get married and have babies.  I stayed strong and dealt with the life that was handed to me in having a baby that might not live.  I did more than survive it- I rose to the occasion.  I took care of him, fought for him and got him into every specialist that I wanted.  I stayed up all night, held him all day.  For years.  And then- I gave back.  Over and Over- I gave back.  My point in this is that I have strength.  I can walk through the hard stuff.  I can rise to any occasion.  Its in there.  Its in all of us.  Its just if we allow ourselves to see it.  Lets not forget the most recent though.  Lets not forget that I've been hiding out in severe anxiety.  Debilitating anxiety that stole the last year of my life.  Life felt hard again and I went back into my old habits.  My habit of hiding out.  My habit of escaping the pain.  I'll take the sobbing, the loneliness, the anxiety attacks that cripple my body, the fear, all of it.  Because, once again the pain crept in and I crept out.  I forgot who I was.  I forgot that its in me.  I forgot to stand up.  This is where the change has to happen.  This where I have to get up.  I have to talk to people, stop hiding, answer texts, be me.  Even disheveled and messy and broken and hurting- I have to show up anyway.  I have to.  We all do.  Because, guess what?  Its going to hurt anyway.  Its still going to hurt.  Mask it, numb it, ignore it, run from it or walk your ass through it.  That's the difference.  That's what I'm gonna do.  I'm gonna walk directly through fire until the flame burns out and hopefully-maybe I can kill it.  For now.

This picture PERFECTLY captures my true self at this time.  Perfection.

I've got some serious things happening right now. I've got really hard stuff.   Things I'm not withholding from you but things I don't have words for yet.  I've told you that I'm a thinker.  I would never want to speak specifically about something until I've thought it completely through.  I don't really think details are ever that important. If you're suffering than you're suffering no matter what the cause.  Be kind to people.  Sometimes the people you expect the least have the most pain.  It takes zero effort or money or anything to just be kind.  

MEDS:  Here is some irony for you.  I went for my monthly med review on Wednesday.  Turns out I'm the most stable I have been and don't have to go back for 8 weeks.  Laugh.  Its OK. This- this human that is writing to you is deemed "stable."  That's fantastic.  Well, guess it goes to show you just how far I've come.  Good God help us all.

I hope you have a wonderful weekend and that your kids don't' make you insane and that you remember that you really have it in you to rise.  Its there.  Find it.

On Friends

**Disclaimer:  My first disclaimer is soon I will skip the disclaimers since this is supposed to be my new therapist.  However, I'm not quite there yet and know I'm still being judged for my words and opinions so I am just going to throw it out there that this post is intended for nobody.  I know all of our narcissistic brains like to find where we fit into situations but really-this is just my ramblings on a topic I think about all the time.  It's not about YOU!  But, I still love you:)

Friends.  We all have them.  We have all kinds of them.  We've got our party friends or social friends, we've got our work friends, our gym friends, our best friends, our kids friends Moms, our family friends and then we've got those friends that you haven't talked to in years but call them your best friends because space and time mean nothing when it comes to them.  I've always said that you are given your family but you pick your people.  I choose very wisely or I try to.  

You know that saying "My ride or die?"  I don't get it.  I don't need a friend to die.  I need you there for the ride.  I need a "ride" friend.  Thats what I need.  Don't be the ride or die- be the ride.  For someone. Anyone.  Be someones ride.

I'm a watcher.  I take it all in.  I do have a lot of opinions and as many as I share- I keep to myself.  I love to peep the scene.  I like to absorb all that's happening.  Shamelessly, I'm nosey and I like to know things.  So, I watch.  And, I absorb and in doing so- I learn a lot about people.  Fascinating, really.

So many people have to surround themselves with such a large crowd.  They have to have so much energy around them and I can't always tell if its because they lack the confidence, they love the rush or they just thrive in chaos.  Don't get me wrong, I love a good party.  I love happy people, gathered together with their worries pushed aside to actually enjoy life in a pretty difficult world.  I tend to thrive in a smaller group.  Less chaos.  More personal.  However, here is a little story about how a good crowd actually helped me.  Last year, I agreed to throw my gym Christmas Party.  I agreed to do this before shit really hit the fan and I began my decline into anxiety and depression.  However, I made a commitment and I'll be damned if I was going to let everyone down.  The week before was spent talking to my therapist about how I was going to get dressed, how I was going to not hide in the bathroom and how I was going to actually survive.  It was not a good situation for me.  I had spent about a month alone and I was in no condition to be  ready to entertain anybody.  The day of the party came and I busied myself with details and I got dressed.  And, I answered the door.  And, I smiled a fake smile to each and every person that entered my house.  After a couple hours, I actually engaged in the fun.  I let go of my troubles and I laughed real laughs with real people in my own home.  It was a really good experience for me.  Most of those people in my house that night- had no idea what my life was like.  They had no idea how desperate I was.  The best part- it didn't matter.  I felt loved in a big crowd and they gave me one night of no tears.  This is what I mean when I say its important to have all the kinds of friendships.  They all have a place.

As for those friends that you hardly talk to but count on the most- those are cool.  Those are my jam.  I think it is insanely awesome to meet someone and it just be right.  When it feels like you can tell this person anything and you hardly know them and you only spend brief moments in your life with them- those are my heroes.  Those are the friends I have tucked in my little toolbox and I use them when needed and I know that no matter what- they are there.  Few words.  Miles Apart.  All the difference in the world.  

Then we have the fair-weather friends.  These are hard.  These people love you when you're up and fun and everything is sunshine and butterflies.  When life gets hard and you're more like a black cloud- they kind of wander off.  You can go ahead and lose those people.  I give you permission.  It is actually hard to do.  I may have a tough exterior but I do feel bad when I know people need to go from my life.  If I have called you a friend- I have given you a lot of energy and it makes me sad to know it was wasted.  So, I get it.  Its hard to let go.  You must remember- life is hard so give that energy to something else. Remember ride or die.  Just because we don't die- doesn't mean we don't expect you to ride.  

We also have the friends that just know.  Sometimes these people surprise you. There are a few people who I am not that close with that heard me when I wasn't speaking.  They text me that they know I'm not OK- when Ive never even spoke to them on the phone or hung out with them.  The people that hear you when you don't speak- put them in your pocket.  Don't lose them.  These people need to be your people.  Some of my best friends had no idea I spent hours a day sobbing on the floor.  Its not their fault.  I don't even blame them.  Everyone has their own lives and I am certainly not the center of theirs.  However, the people who don't believe your OK voice, don't tolerate your lack of text responses or those that see the tears behind the makeup- just hold on to those.  That's all.  They are your ride. 

I go through stages where I have a ton of friends and then I have few friends.  Its not really that I gain and lose friends all the time.  Its more that I let people in and I shut people out.  Its me.  Its not the best way to go but it is who I am.  When things get really bad for me, I shut down.  I suffer alone and I share nothing with anyone.  This is not because my friends aren't good enough.  This is not because I don't trust them.  This is just the way I was made.  To suffer alone and rise alone.  Everything I do is kind of in my own way.  I'm hard to sway, I'm hard to challenge because I just sort of pave my own path.  Now, I'm pretty sure life could be easier if I chose the path already paved but its really just not my style.  I know I make life harder than it has to be but at least I'm going my own way.  Hard or not.  I'm doing my thing.  And, I think you should do yours.  


Also- on a completely different note.  I took my kids grocery shopping this weekend.  Part of why I always say I decided not to work, was so that I didn't have to do things like take my kids grocery shopping.  I realize they are 5, 7, and 9.  I realize that I'm a Mom and Mom's do this.  However, Its a nightmare.  Its so annoying.  Its so not fun.  I would just like to ask where all my friends were when I decided to willingly take them to the grocery store on a  Sunday morning??  Friends, please don't let me do this again.  Remind me that I have all week to do this without them.  Remind me that it is not helpful to our relationship of parent/child when we shop together.  It does not grow the love balloon at all.  Friends don't let it happen again.

Happy Halloween! I'll be over at my sisters stressed out about all the sugar and being a really uncool Mom if you need me!

My Fave

 
Be someones RIDE.  

My New Therapist

Hi.  I'm here.  I'm probably the worst blogger ever born but you know, nobody's perfect.  I'm going to be better.  I decided that I am going to come to this computer in the middle of my kitchen as often as I can and send out to the Universe or whoever is listening, what I have to say.  Usually, I have a lot to say but I go lay on my bed and think about my crazy life and that's not that therapeutic so its time I try something new.  I like writing.  It feels a little like therapy but better because nobody is talking back or telling me things I don't want to hear.  So this computer,  might just be my new cheap therapist.  Those of you who want to listen to whatever ramblings I have- perfect.  If you don't- well, that's OK too.

I'm going to give a little warning that these posts aren't going to be pretty.  I'm not going to spend hours a day spell checking, making sure punctuation is correct or really proof reading at all.  Like I said, nobody is perfect and I don't even have a small desire to try to be.  So, sorry about the grammar.  Kind of.  I'm not really that sorry, but whatever.

So.  Here is the story.  The God's honest truth story.  My life has literally been on a landslide fall in the wrong direction for way too long.  I could tell you story after story after story of what has been happening and you probably wouldn't believe me.  Lets put it this way- You all thought my breakdown and trip to Arizona was alarming.  Ha.  Yes, yes it was.  However, the recent happenings since then aren't even close to the same spectrum.  They are worse!  The details aren't important and truthfully I'm not going to relive them to tell.  Just take my word for it!  Every day I wake up and think, today is the day that my luck turns.  By around 10:00AM, I realize that ain't happening.  If you know me, you know I'm a pretty tough broad for a small chick.  I've got thick skin, a sharp mind and the ability to carry a lot of weight on these shoulders.  I've had more than a fair share of struggles in my life and I do somehow always come out on top.  It's not because I coast, its because I fight.  I'm not perfect, I have no desire to be perfect but I do have resilience and that my friends, is all you need to really get by.

My Favorite human being happens to be a blogger by the name of Glennon Doyle Melton.  This is what she said:    "I was lucky enough to have been to rock bottom before, right?  So I know, for a fact, that rock bottom is always the beginning of the newness.  It hurts and its painful, and then there is the waiting- where you don't know what the hell is going on and you don't think any of it is going to make sense and then, there's the rising."

I met Glennon once.  I will meet her again next week to remind her how good of friends we are.

The way I see it, that rise... it's GOT TO BE right around the corner and Oh, Baby- I'm ready.  I'm holding on as tight as I can to whatever piece of faith I can find in any day and I am ready for the rise.  I will own that rise and I will try to make a difference somewhere with it.

I'm never going to come here and pretend like life is perfection.  I do have an adorable family, a gorgeous home and the ability to not have to work at this time-  That does not mean my life is all sunshine.   I also have Instagram and Facebook.  I can post anything I want and you can read into any way you want.  That's all part of our freedom.  I look at everybody's stuff a few times a day and I form my own opinions as well.  Some people may really have those picture perfect lives but I'll tell you what I have.  I have picture perfect moments…and then I have my real life.  This includes happy kids, sad kids, mad kids, good days, bad days and horrific days of sadness.  And, an unreal amount of anxiety that no drug can help.  I also have wonderful days and see beautiful pink skies that I always think are made for me.  I'm real.  I'll never try to be something I'm not.   I am 35 years old and still just trying to find my way.   This blog will be happy.  It will sad.  It will be a portrayal of me.  Just as I am.  Enjoy the ride…its a bumpy one.

Let's talk about my fitness.  That's my favorite topic.  I'm obsessed with it.  No shame in my game.  Here is the deal with it.  I HATE the actual working out part.  I don't like to sweat.  I don't like to be uncomfortable and I don't particularly like to do really hard things- even though I can.  And, for the Love of God and all things Holy- do NOT tell me I have good genetics.  I work my ass off every single day and I eat the same thing every day and its a hot topic for me!  Anyways…what I do like is the feeling of a commitment to something, and the sense of accomplishment I get from completing the work.  I've switched my routine.  Wait for it… I'm not currently Crossfitting (Gasp!)  I know, I know, I know.  I did it for almost 4 years and decided to try a new challenge.  Crossfit is competitive and addicting and I loved it.  Loved the communities, the companionship's, the friendships and the fitness.  I'm not saying I'll never go back- I'm saying I'm diggin' something new at the moment.  I'm lifting heavy ass weights with a very large black man that is 3.5 times my size and follows drags me around the gym saying "I got you," the entire time.  I have goals that I will never attain, because that's how I am and I'll own it, of what I want my body to look like.  I just have this unimaginable desire to be strong.  I told him today that I want to be the smallest, strongest girl anyone has ever seen.  He replied with "Are those real tears, save them for the car (as I almost lost my shit on the leg press machine.)  God, I love that giant.  He beats the crap out of my body multiple times a week and hugs me at the end of each visit.  Bless him for dealing with my shit and welcoming me into his playground.   Stay tuned.  I'm about to be jacked ;)  

I was told to take a before picture.  The ones on the right- those are after  my first leg day. HA

 #roadtojackedness

Kids!  Lets talk about my kids because well, they are cute and pretty much my whole world.

Carter:  Kicking butt at Flag Football.  Never seen confidence in this kid like I do on that football field. I obviously have no clue what is happening in a football game but I know when my kid runs all the way down the field and everyone is screaming- its a good thing!  He is also doing great at soccer and loving every minute.   He is in 4th grade and switching classes.  I check his online grade book every day and I have now banned him from school lunches for his inability to not by obscene amounts of junk food.  Yup, I'm the cool mom!  Not.

Paige:  Oh, Paigey.  My little hero.  She is dancing 4.5 hours a week and decided to play soccer for the first time.  Went out there and owned it with 3 goals her first game, 6 her second, 3 her third and so on.  The girl can really do anything.  She looks about 11 and she is the biggest  helper or the biggest drama queen depending  on her mood.  She still wears all the Matilda Jane I buy her but really wants to go to Justice….  we're in negotiations on that.  She is Paige and she is her own person and I couldn't be more proud of that.

Easton:  Easy E.  Well, he screams all day.  Every day.  Yells.  Loud.  He's grumpy and moody.  I contact his teacher often who assures me he is perfect. Apparently doesn't scream and slam doors and tell her what she does wrong all day.  Which is good, I guess.  Rude to save it all for me but I'm OK with it.  At least in the real world he acts like a normal human being so I must be getting through to him somehow.  I didn't have him play outdoor soccer in the fall because those lungs don't like it.  He is signed up to play indoor soccer and starts this Saturday.  He is growing so much and will probs pass his brother which is already a huge problem.  He eats nonstop, talks nonstop and is my daily reminder to believe in Miracles.  I don't know why I was chosen to have one walking through my life- but he is and I do not forget it.

That's it.  That's all I got for today.  That's my current situation and now I'm going to fly around this house and pick it up as fast as I can before I get them off the bus and watch them destroy it in record time!

Have a great weekend.  Be Resilient!

Finding my way back...

So, there is an image that each person portrays.  Sometimes it is accurate and sometimes it is not.  Sometimes that is on purpose and sometimes it truly is just the way a person expresses themselves.  We all have a story.  We all have a ride we are taking and you’d probably be very surprised at how much you don’t know about most people.  There is a saying about the people in your life that hear you when you aren’t speaking.  Those people- those are the keepers.  Those are the people you are looking for and that’s the kind of person I pray I can be.  The one that is selfless enough to know when someone else isn’t ok and doesn’t have the words.  It is very easy to judge a book by its cover.  To really believe you know about someone’s life based on the clothes they wear, where they live, what kind of car they drive or how their kids are dressed.  The truth is- you don’t.  You don’t know a damn thing about anyone unless they specifically told you so. We don’t really ask questions anymore.  We just assume things and I feel like that is why so many people are lost.  They are trying to live up to false expectations that others have created around them.  Trying to reach a height they never intended to create.  And, they end up falling.  Alone.  And scared.

That’s what happened to me.  As open and honest as I am about my life- I still fell and the world had no idea.  It started as being very tired.  Not being a great sleeper ever in my adult life was a really great excuse.  Then came the darkness.  The sadness.  And, the anxiety.  Man, was that powerful.  Debilitating is a better word.  I was all consumed and lost in a dark, dark world and most people in my life had no idea for months.  Months!  How is that possible that all of my so- called friends and family had no idea.  No idea that I sobbed for hours and hours a day in a ball on the floor of my bedroom.  Nobody knew why I didn’t show up to volunteer in my sons classroom other than she “didn’t feel well.”  They didn’t know I was pretty sure I cracked a rib crying so hard that I couldn’t actually move to get there.  My husband knew enough to remove the kids from our home on many nights to protect them from seeing me- but he didn’t know why.  I didn’t know why.  That is the worst kind of sadness, the kind that you can't explain.  All I knew was I couldn’t see anyone anymore.  I couldn’t breathe when I left my house and I surely couldn’t properly care for three children.  My kids knew I had a lot of really bad headaches that I had never had before in my life.  At least that is what I thought they knew.  Until that devastating day where my two oldest children let me know in the best way they knew how- that they knew my secret.  They knew I wasn’t ok.  My son told me that he hears me crying in the bathroom every day.  And, my poor daughter, out of desperation told me I couldn’t lay in bed for the rest of my life.  These little children were scared to death of me.  Their own Mother.  The one that is supposed to make everything OK.  The one that is supposed to dry their tears.  The one that is supposed to guide and steer them.  But, instead they were guiding me.  They were telling me that things weren’t ok.  They were telling me that they knew.  They didn’t know exactly what was happening- but they weren’t going to keep quiet anymore.  These kids missed their Mom.

The few days following my kids verbalizing what they knew were very scary.  The very last thing I wanted to do was scare my children so I would lay in bed all day while they were at school- and as soon as they were due home, I left.  I drove around parking lots.  I drove down dirt roads.  I cried so hard I had to pull over.  I wanted to go stay at a hotel alone.  I wanted to disappear.  I was terrified.  I was not OK and I didn’t have a clue why or what to do about it.  I went to see a therapist who was just as afraid of me as I  was and it only took about three visits to know- she was not equipped for someone like me.  The desperation continued and the sadness grew stronger and stronger every hour.  I could hardly eat, my blood pressure was through the roof and medically my body was giving out on me.  It could not handle the stress it was under. 

A very good friend of mine put me in touch with another therapist.  A life changing move.  This woman took me on and understood what was happening immediately.  She made herself available via phone or text 24/7 to me.  She assured me I wasn’t too far gone and she was going to help me.  She was so confident that I trusted her from our very first phone call.  We talked for over an hour every day that first week and I finally started to feel like I might be ok.  I went back to work and I gave life a shot.  I immediately fell flat on my face.  I couldn’t face the world and pretend like it was ok.  I was sleeping about one hour per night and I had zero fight.  I was crippled.  I went to visit a Psychiatrist and he put me on some old school medication that at first did absolutely nothing and then gave me the biggest migraine of my life.   A twelve day migraine from hell.  I couldn’t have any lights on, I lost vision in my left eye, my short term memory suffered and I had to apply pressure to my forehead to even sit up.  It was complete misery and basically the final straw to my existence.  I honestly thought I was going to die.  I didn’t know what was going to kill me… a heart attack, exhaustion or something else but I had an overwhelming feeling that my physical body was all done.  It had carried me as far as it could. 

The next day after truly feeling like I was going to die- I called my therapist and said two words, “ I surrender.”  I gave up.  I was all done.  Nothing left to give.  No more fight.  Just, done.  She told me to hang on tight and she was going to handle everything.  She called facility after facility after facility looking for the perfect match for me.  Looking for a place that could take me immediately and also a place that fit my needs.  She put me in touch with three different places and I immediately knew which place was the best fit.  Cottonwood de Tucson in Tucson, Arizona offered a 30 day inpatient stay to treat all kinds of disorders but was great in dealing with co-occurring anxiety and depression.   They were willing to take me that day. 

Telling my children that I was leaving them one hour before leaving them for a whole month was one of the most difficult things I have ever done.    The fear and sadness in their eyes and the sound of their cries- I will never forget as long as I live.  I knew I had failed them.  I knew I had let them down and yet at the same time, I had to go save myself to get back to them.  I wasn’t acting like their mother.  I was a shell of the human I once was.  I lost my life and I didn’t have a clue how.

My husband bought a plane ticket to take me out to this place we had never heard of.   I quickly made him cancel that ticket to stay with our children.  They needed him and I needed to do this myself.  I needed to fight for myself, by myself.  Terrified is not a strong enough word to describe what boarding that plane was like.  I honestly had no idea if I would even go to the facility once I go there or if I would just run away.  The hopelessness and desperate sadness I felt was all encompassing.  I didn’t recognize myself at all.  I didn’t recognize who I saw in the mirror or even my hands when I looked down at them.  I was a stranger in my own skin.  I was headed out to fight a battle I was pretty sure I couldn’t win.

I arrived at the Tucson airport at midnight which was 2:00AM my time.  We arrived 30 minutes early and my driver from Cottonwood was not there.  I’d be lying if I didn’t think to myself that it was a sign I should run but honestly I was too tired to figure anything else out.  So, I went.  To the unknown.  In the middle of the night.  In a state I had never been to.  And I endured the strip search, crazy people questions, weight check and vitals.  I signed papers I didn’t read and handed over my cell phone and all my belongings to complete strangers.  The only thing I had with me was a single hope and a single prayer.  I hope I survive.  I pray they can fix me. 

The first place they put me was a “detox room.”  This place was sterile.  It had two beds and looked straight out of a psychiatric movie.  Clearly I didn’t need to detox but since I arrived in the middle of the night, they didn’t want to wake other patients by moving me in and they weren’t 100% sure of my mental status so this is where I landed.  Let me just tell you that those rooms were not the plush, nice rooms with luxurious bedding that I had seen online.  It took me about 20 minutes to completely lose my shit and cry so hard that they ended up moving me “into the community” in the middle of the night.  Of course, I had no orders for any medication to calm my anxiety or put me to sleep so I simply waited for the sun to rise in a pitch black room with no clock and with pure sadness in my heart.  I can’t imagine a worse feeling than I felt those first few hours.  It was one of fear, desperation, lonlieness and the deepest level of internal pain.

The next days came and went as a blur.  The silent tears never stopped flowing from my eyes.   I met people but couldn’t remember any names.  I went to groups but had anxiety attacks and couldn’t stay.  The migraine from the old drugs had not subsided and they couldn’t prescribe me any new medications until it was gone.   They tried every drug in the book.  Finally gave me a shot of something in the butt and put me to bed.  It helped for two whole days before it came screaming back.  I took a bunch more drugs, another shot in the butt and tried not to puke with all the nausea that followed.  It felt like I was wasting time and getting nowhere quickly- if at all.  You guys, I was broken.  Into a million shattered pieces.

I kept thinking about back home.  About my husband and my children.  I kept thinking about how much better off they would be without me.  Those kids deserved a Mom that could participate in their life and it sure as hell wasn’t me.  I just hoped that she would remind them to brush their teeth and make sure they said their prayers and tell them how loved they are multiple times a day.  And my husband.  I just wanted a partner for him.  Someone to participate in life and care for him.  He deserved that.  That person wasn’t me.  Not anymore.   That’s the one thing I thought I knew for sure.  That’s how powerful the brain is.  That’s what my brain told me over and over again.  All.  Day.  Long.

The days came and went and I was prescribed an anxiety medication that they described using a light switch.  They said they wanted to dim the anxiety light but not me….and that is what they did.  Within a day or so, I felt like I could see straight.  I stayed in my groups and I even spoke to a few people.  I listened so intently to all the people around me.  Some were heroine addicts, some were alcoholics, some had tried to commit suicide, some were court ordered and came straight from jail, some were suffering from the despair of depression or from great loss, but the one thing I knew right away – they were all just like me.  We came from all walks of life.  We were close in age and decades apart.  We were male and female, married and single, Moms and Dads.  We were all here because somewhere, somehow, our worlds fell apart.   We were all there because we lost our way.

I was active in treatment once I was able to catch my breath.  I participated in what I was supposed to do, I attended the groups I was assigned to and I took the medications they prescribed.  I was put into trauma therapy right away which made zero sense to me. I couldn’t identify a particular trauma but once I attended the group- I realized I did have trauma.  Secret traumas I never talk about.  This type of therapy was sometimes in a group setting but mostly one on one.  In these groups with this amazing woman, I cried.  Hard and often.   The kind of crying where your soul hurts.  The kind of crying you don’t think can end.  It induces physical pain to your heart.  Its painful and its therapeutic.  These hours were more exhausting than any type of physical activity you could ever imagine trying.  The instructions for after the one hour therapy- go directly to your bed and just rest.  Ha, as if there was another option after that.

The only communication to the outside world was via phones inside the nursing clinic that you had to use a calling card to dial and only during certain hours were the phones even active.  No incoming calls were transferred to patients.  No cell phones or media were ever allowed through your entire stay.  You were truly disconnected.  I spoke to about three different people the whole time I was gone.  People weren’t sure where I was.  My kids told a story of my headache that was so bad I was leaving for 30 days so I can only imagine what people told themselves and what stories were circulating.  I didn’t care.  Nothing mattered other than me holding on to that one hope and that one prayer.

I would say it took about 10-14 days before I actually smiled.  Before I put on some lip gloss.  Before I could see a very dim light out of a very long tunnel.  On day 15, the halfway point, I was granted permission to FaceTime my children.  The craziest thing happened when I saw them.  I MISSED THEM.  I felt something.  I actually felt something.  I missed my kids and I wanted to be their Mom.  I didn’t want to find someone else.  I wanted to do it.   I was the one for them.  I felt it and I knew right then and there that I was gonna make it.  To be clear, I thought of my children and spoke to them before this day but the only thing I felt was the same muted sadness I had felt for so long.  I just felt sorry for them that I was their Mom.  But, now everything shifted.  I was going to get it together and go home and be the Mom I have always been.

After that phone call, my husband flew out to see me for three hours.  Yes, he flew from Michigan to Arizona to spend three hours with me.   He  got to meet my team and I was excused from one group.  These people didn’t mess around.  They only had you for 30 days and they didn’t bend many rules if any.  I told Matt that he did not need to spend the money or waste the time for three hours but he said that he couldn’t  have me go away to this place and not have one person from my whole world ever lay eyes on it.  I’m so fortunate to have him on my side.  The team held nothing back and discussed my progress thus far and expectations they had of me.  Matt left feeling like things were going to be ok if not for just the simple reason that he saw me smile.  Life had been bad.  There are so many things that Matt saw and heard from me that I can’t take back and he will never be able to erase from his mind but he never gave up on me and I’ve got a real good feeling he never will.

The rest of my stay was just hard work.  Lots of groups, lots of sharing, lots of homework and projects to be presented to groups.   There was a couple of fierce yahtzee games and there ended up being some moments of laughter. I read a book.  A whole book.  I haven’t been calm enough or without anxiety to sit still long enough to read a book in YEARS.  There were lots of hellos and just as many goodbyes.  It’s a process.  As ones journey begins, one is about to take the next step.  Its humbling.  Its inspiring.  Its sad.  Its heartbreaking.  Its awesome.  Its life. 

So, this was the month of February 2016 for Lindsay Clark.  I’m not proud of it.  Im not ashamed of it.  Im not perfect or anywhere near that unattainable notion.  I have great days and miserable days.  I feel excited and deep sadness.  I’m constantly making changes and rolling through life in the very best way I know how.  There really is only one thing that matters at this point, and that is that I am most certainly not broken.

My admission photo and a 2 weeks after I was home.