MoxieLife

Christmas bridges the past and present

I have been thinking of the things that bridge the past to the present - the personal things - that tie you to those that you have loved and lost. The holidays are a huge part of that thought pattern, but it happens all year long. When you hear a special song, eat a cookie with a certain spice... good and bad we are tied to those who we were once connected too.

For me, when I put up my Christmas tree I am reminded of my parents, my friend Wendy's mom, my brother, and my sister. They are all wrapped up in my tree and I am fuller because of it. When I unwrap the stuffed Santa that Ginger made with such precision I am transformed into the 9 year old who spent every day after school at her house with her daughter Wendy. She was entirely kind - never seeming to mind the intrusion - never asking for anything other than a playmate for her daughter.

Then, of course, there is the music and traditions that are carried through the season. Most of them have lost their intentional meaning - there is no Jesus in my house - but the sparkle of the lights is delightful. Last night I ventured out to my husband trying to remember when I realized there was no Santa. I don't remember when it happened and I don't remember being upset about it. Then I remembered that my husband never even had Santa. He took that tradition of mine and brought it with great joy to our daughter. He relishes the delight at Santa's cookies, presents from the big C and stockings - things he never really had.

The holidays are such a fusion of those we love, traditions from our childhoods and new ideas. I love that we are flexible to remember our past, but able to bring changes that fit our family now.

For those looking for some new traditions here is a great post!

Holidays in the house

 

 Yesterday our house went from no Christmas to Christmas in a matter of hours. My husband cleaned and moved furniture, put up the tree and strung the lights. I went through the 4 tubs of decorations deciding how it will look this year. I chose simple glittery balls, a few of the remaining antique ornaments, and sentimental pieces. Later, when my daughter gets home for winter break, we are going to make a variety of ornaments to compliment the tree and add to the collection.

The thing about the holidays is that it holds so many memories - good and bad - and it is easy to get lost in that. Last year I was lost in a whirl of depression and loss during the holidays and had the hardest time making any movement towards joy. What I didn't have (or who I didn't have) was so much larger than what I did have - which almost cost me who I have today.

This year, though the memories are still there, they are filled with a full heart. I have had exceptional loves in my life, holidays filled with laughter and tears, and family who is just as excited to watch Charlie Brown's Christmas Special as I am. I am truly blessed - and this year I remember.

(The photo above is filled with memories: the fan is from my brothers tree, turned sideways is an ornament of me that my sister did years ago, and the paper Merry Christmas ornament was made by my brother from a design made by our grandmother.)

Those sleepless nights worrying about loose ends.

You know that awful feeling when you wake up at 2:43am and you can't get back to sleep because you have so many must do's, want to do's, and loose ends rattling around in your head. Well, that was my night. I am juggling a lot of work and personal projects and I can't seem to figure out how to get it all done.

Or, what really happens is I get resentful because my husbands to do list doesn't seem as long. That feeling is the worst. It goes through a series of things: resentment, anger, frustration, and then resolve. All within the wee hours of the morning in complete silence in bed.

Terrible.

Then in the morning when I told him I didn't sleep well he just said to give him the things that he can do and just do the things I can do - consider them done, he said.

How easy was that.

So much better then wanting to shake him awake at 4:15am shrieking that it wasn't fair that I have to DO so much. (I didn't do that... I just WANTED to do that.)

Couples therapy, check.

Two sessions and we are done. Yep, my husband and I went to our second therapy session yesterday and we are done. We will leave the door open and if we feel the need to go in if something comes up we will, but both the therapist and we felt that we had done the work needed. Those who have watched this saga will be shocked.

The therapist said three things that moved us in that direction:

• Studies show that couples that stay together and those that break up do not fight any less. The ones who stay together just learn the rules of engagement and put the "couple" ahead of the individual.
• Sometimes a therapeutic break (which is what he thought our five months separated should be called) is a dynamic way to heal or change a relationship.
• The work that individuals do can highly effect the relationship - in fact, one person can do relationship therapy. He felt that the individual work that we did/are doing is what moved us to a new place in our relationship.

This doesn't mean that issues both new and old won't come up. It doesn't mean that we are "perfect". It just means that we have committed ourselves to being together in a new way. For me personally it means listening and not shutting down or becoming defensive. It means learning to laugh at my own foibles. It means working together.

When we were at dinner afterwards we recalled the therapist that we saw 10 years ago who asked us why we were even together in the first place. This is a far cry from that and we are thrilled. To have a third party both wish us well, and congratulate us on the hard work that we have done is like an odd seal of approval - not necessary, but really nice.

Life may be hard, but I am downright happy.

Ahhh - so I am MUCH to hard on myself... I showed my list of places I was stuck or my issues to my husband last night and he said they may be there, but I do amazingly well. He said that my ability to be flexible and resilient far outweighs any of these perceived flaws. So nice to hear.

So, enough of that - I am actually pretty happy. Really. My husband is home. Did ya hear me... after 5 impossible months of loneliness we are reconciled. How does that even happen? How did I get to be so lucky? It seems amazing to me and I am thrilled that it has happened. I think it took a week for the shock to wear off and now I realize just how darn happy I am.

So, we have to relearn how to talk. So what. So we have to dive into what caused the break up in the first place. So what - that is all teeny compared to thinking I might never have had the chance to do that.

Sure, this is probably the honeymoon phase and I am just glowing in that light - who would blame me. I know that life isn't going to be easy and stuff will come up, but when your man looks at you and says that there is no other woman he would rather be with than you - well, that is special. When he says that he wants to grow old and die together - that just makes my toes happy.

I may be flawed, our relationship may need a huge an entire new blueprint, but I am downright happy to be where I am today. And those last five months of complete torture, well, to be honest, I wouldn't trade those in either. I learned a lot about myself. I learned what I want and am learning to ask for it. We grew through the pain of it, and I don't know if we would have if that separation hadn't happend. Life is strange, but even when it isn't working out according to plan there is always a bright side.

Depression is the topic of the day - and everyday lately.

Today a friend of my daughters stopped by to pick something up and he asked about my husband - more specifically he asked about depression. He talked about noticing that he had ups and downs and wondered what constituted depression. I shared what I know about it and that although ups and downs are normal given his families history I would just watch that neither end is too dramatic.

It seems that because I have been honest about depression and how it effects a family I have had lots of people share with me their story or ask questions. I am not an expert - I only know what it feels like to be the family member. My mom was bipolar, my sister has tried to commit suicide and my husband has depression. I have seen the gamut of reactions to the illness, the drugs, and therapy. Good and bad.

Because of this I have been doing some reading about what it is like for the spouse or family member and I found this: "When husbands have depression, it can tear apart their marriage and family. Wives may take over and hope the problem will go away, or on the opposite end, withdraw, feeling betrayed and angry. More often, they alternate back and forth between these behaviors and emotions. Fifty percent of wives caring for a depressed husband will develop depression themselves."

I found the description of alternating back and forth from helpfulness to despair to be so accurate. I had never seen myself so adequately described. I had thought that I had been handling our lives and his depression in some special way only to find out that I am just like everyone else.

The truth is that depression or mental illness in a family is extremely difficult. That commercial where it says it hurts everyone is pretty accurate. What really hurts is when the depressed person isn't seeking treatment.

What I recommend is that the person get treated AND the family. It isn't a one person thing - everyone has feelings about it and needs to work through those. The current treatment is to treat the patient, but I HIGHLY recommend that the family seek treatment too - you have a lot of feelings surrounding this and working with a therapist can help.

The other thing - talk about it. Depression isn't scary, you can't catch it, and it only helps to be honest about it. I have to say the more honest I have been the more people have been able to reach out about their own issues. If we can help people out isn't that a good thing?

Forgive or forget it?

I have been thinking a lot about forgiveness. It seems in our society (or at least in the small southern town I live in) forgiveness isn't in. It is no secret (at this point anyway) that my husband left in January and we are on the rocky road of something - not sure what to call it actually.

On both sides of the issue stand my friends - who are by all accounts more my friend then his.

• The "protective don't be a victim" side asks when I am going to give an ultimatum? When am I just going to move on?
• The "life is messy" friends ask do I have it in my heart to forgive him and keep waiting.

I have to tell you that I side with the forgiveness side. I am no saint (stop snickering) and know that I have not been perfect in all of my relationships. In fact, I am still learning. I believe we all are still learning. I also believe that life is really messy and people get messed up in it. Having a place in our life for forgiving allows us to also forgive ourselves.

I was sharing with a friend last night that when I was dealing with my mom (another topic all together) I felt better when I placed boundaries on the relationship and I felt terrible when I slammed the door and said fuck off. A lesson that I learned at the end of our relationship sadly.

So, for now I am still on the rocky road - and open to forgiveness in all of its forms.

Sorry, I just don't want to go anywhere.

Apparently my antisocial ways have been outed by my Sparkly Girl. She, in complete frustration with me, wondered aloud if I always stay home and never go out. I tried to justify myself, but after several moments I realized that I have become rather antisocial. I just don't want to hang out with others, roam around shops, or find things outside of the house to have fun.

Granted, the house alone takes forever - there are always a million chores to be done and if I don't do them they don't get done. Do they matter - yes and no. Could they wait - sure, but they will all have to be done eventually.

Really though ever since my husband left I just don't feel into getting out much. I go to work things, the library, sometimes walking with a few friends, to see my therapist, the grocery store, and every month or so a craft night with the girls. That is really it. Work things are what bring me out of the house most (coffee with a local business person, a meeting, an event) and without that I would definately stay in more.

I am not unhappy staying in - I putter around, read, tackle big projects, and do a fair share of nothing. Granted if you read my last posts you know I'm generally rushing around doing stuff - nothing terribly important - just stuff. That doesn't make me happy - but filling time with others doesn't really make me happy either.

At 19 she is used to more people and more to do - I just am not in the mood to fill that up. I feel bad because I think she sees this as not healthy or not happy. I just can't seem to get into the groove of seeing more people and listening to them drone on and on about thier lives. I can't hear them complain about some trivial thing... someday I might be able to, but right now I am fine at home. (Unless she sees something about me that I don't...)

Dealing with depression in the family.

I just finished reading "It Sucked and Then I Cried" and I realized how I had not shared the intimate details of my life here - you may think I have, but there is seriously more to it. Heather, in the book and online, should be a national hero. Her battle with mental illness, postpartum depression, and her ability to share that so other people wouldn't feel so alone is stunning.

As a daughter, sister and spouse of people who have varying degrees of mental illness I have always had that nagging feeling that I should stand up and do a shout out for family members who deal with this. As the one who checks others into hospitals, is on the receiving line of suicide threats, or who witnesses a nervous breakdown first hand.

Here are some things that I have slowly learned over the years dealing with people with mental illness and depression:

• It isn't my fault. They are depressed or mentally ill all by themselves. I am not the cause of their irrational behavior, mood swings, anger or suicide attempts. They do that all on their own.
• It isn't in my control. I don't get to decide that I am done with their depression. Oh, how I wish I could discard it like the smelly sponge on the kitchen sink! No, I am not allowed to put the time frame on their mental cycles.
• They don't always mean what they are saying. This is probably the hardest one to remember. When people are in the midst of a breakdown they say some awfully cruel things. Things you would never say to someone - you may think these things when you are mad that they left the trashcan lid off and the raccoons have spread your tampons throughout the yard, but you don't SAY those things. People going through the ravages of mental illness often have no control of what they are saying and they can get ugly. You have to filter that with "they are sick - they don't really mean to say that I am the worst person on the universe next to Hitler".
• They can't "just get over it". Oh boy. I have said this on WAY to many occasions. "Can't you just get over it?" No, no they can't. Their little minds are circling through it all over and over and over and even if they would like to get off that hamster wheel they can't. You telling them to isn't going to help - in fact I guarantee that they will tell you that in the most obvious way (see bullet above.)
• Drugs helps some people. I totally believe that drugs help some people some of the time. I also think that it is personal - even when you really want someone to start taking something - anything - to stop the craziness it is up to them to do so. And even when they do start taking the drugs they may not work. Then you get to watch them take more or different drugs. The best advice is if you are living with them offer to help manage the medication - the prescriptions chage so frequently and the doses and the pills look so similar this can be crazy making in and of itself.
• Go talk to someone. Get professional help for yourself. This would be the MOST important thing to do. The mental illness professionals have missed a serious step - they work with the mentally ill patient and forget that there is a whole family unit there who has been ravaged by sleepless nights, words no one should have to hear, and emotional roller coasters that are impossible to get the seat belts off. Family members of mentally or emotionally ill people NEED HELP. You have to process the fact that they said they hate you, that they tried to hurt themselves, or that they have trouble loving you the way you want to be loved. If you have someone in your life who is seriously depressed - even if they are not getting help - GO GET HELP YOURSELF. You have to have someone to process this craziness with.

I wish I could have a booth somewhere to share this with people - a megaphone yelling "if you have a loved one who is depressed or mentally ill you are not alone!" Think about it - there are millions of us. For all the people on Prozac there are family members who have gone through the spin cycle one time too many. There is no stigma in depression or mental illness - it is the SAME AS HEART DISEASE. I swear to god that I wish I could wear a ribbon or a t-shirt or host a walk so that we could all understand that we are all in this - and it is ok.

Mom.

Today marks my mother's 76th birthday. She passed away two years ago this May. I have moved to the place where I just miss her - no deep sadness, anger, or resentment. I just miss her and have a bit of regret.

I had stopped talking to my mom 6 months before she died. She was bipolar and had a tendency to be mean - never really wanting to be a mother and saw me often as competition for my fathers affection. Because I was tired of her rants I had stopped visiting and had only started to talk to her on the phone again around her birthday. She shared with me how she spent her day and I was so happy that she seemed happy.

I had, a month after her birthday, arranged to come over for dinner, but the night before we were going to go over to visit she fell and died. The call came at 3 in the morning from my dad. He seemed so sad, so lost. I couldn't believe that I had missed my chance to see her. Now I think that there was a reason - we had started to heal a bit over the phone if we had seen each other it might have not gone well and so we were both spared that.

Our relationships with our family are often tortured - or misunderstood. We are dealt players that are often at odds with who we are, but it is how we handle them that we move forward through life. There are things I could have done better, but because of that I have learned new skills to bring to other relationships.

She was an amazing lady and she is missed. Love you mom.