Some thoughts on mental illness

News flash:  I just overreacted to something I saw on the Internet.  (If you know me, or are one of the two people who read this blog that will not come as a shock to you.). Moving on.

A few days ago I started following a blogger that I like on Pinterest.  Don't get me started on how addictive Pinterest is, that's a story for another time.  In any case today he posted something that really irked me.  And rather than be the cool, calm, collected self I strive to be, I reacted.  I posted a comment in response to the pin.  Wrong Cora.  Bad move.  Well, let's just say I created a stir and had lots of strangers on the Internet yelling at me.  This really shouldn't bother me at all.  But it totally did.  All day long.  Why, you ask?

The pin that caused the stir was the phrase "I hate my bipolar disorder; it's awesome!" with this :(: emoticon.  My initial reaction was that's funny (in a not really funny but I got the bad joke sorta way).  But then I got mad.  This blogger is pretty well known and respected for his good taste and style.  And he carries his Christian values around like his favorite briefcase.  The "joke" was in bad taste and certainly not Christian.  And I said as much.  On the Internet.  To strangers.  (yeah, yeah in hindsight a bad idea)  Lots of people came to his defense saying that they either had a bipolar disorder or loved someone who did and they found the humor in the comment.  We are all entitled to our own opinions I guess.

As I stewed throughout the day I had these thoughts:
- Someone who is a "public figure" I feel has a obligation to not perpetuate a stigma around mental illness.  Making light of bipolar disorder in my opinion is doing just that. 
- There are many public figures who would not find that statement funny in the least.  Jesse Jackson Jr. is working very hard to be a stable, functioning adult with bipolar disorder right now.  I certainly don't think he would describe his stay at the Mayo Clinic as awesome.
- We as a society have a long history of joking about that which we do not understand.  People of other races, genders, sexual orientations, religions have been the butt of jokes for years.  Thankfully it seems it is now socially inappropriate to mock such things, but yet it's okay to make fun of mental illness.  Something seems amiss to me on that logic.  Am I wrong?
- The "It Gets Better" campaign was started to encourage teens questioning their sexual orientation to push through the teasing and bullying.  However, we can still tease someone about their mental illness.  Again, doesn't add up.
- Over the past year, I have developed a much stronger connection to my Christian faith.  If that's not your thing, that's fine.  As a result I've worked very hard to not be a hypocritical Christian.  Meaning simply: I try to walk the walk.  This blogger is also a self-described Christian.  Christian values would dictate that you treat everyone with respect and dignity.  Poking fun at someone's illness?  Not Christian.

As I've been writing this I've been struggling with whether or not I overreacted.  I really don't know anymore.  I obviously should have kept my mouth shut on Pinterest and not said anything because it did no good.  I'm curious where other people stand on this.  Is it OK to joke about one's own experiences if it sends the wrong message to others?

Things I learned as a stay at home mom.

Summer is here and while that means outdoor concerts, playing in the pool, ice cream for dinner, and all things wonderful it also means that my time at home with the girls full time is coming to an end. At the end of August I will return to my "real" job as a school psychologist.

 People have asked me if I'm looking forward to going back to work. The short answer: no. I will enjoy having mostly uninterrupted adult conversation, drinking coffee that is still warm, peeing without someone standing outside the door or crying (or both), and having a commute to work. But I won't enjoy going to work.

 For the last 15 months I have been blessed to have the most difficult job in the world. Full time mom. It has been a gratifying, humbling, life changing experience in ways I couldn't possibly imagine. I wish every mother could have the opportunity I had. I guarantee it would teach you every day over and over again.

 I have learned about my children. How they tick. What helps them thrive, what drags them down. How uniquely individual they are. I have learned about my relationship with my husband. We are a great team. He understands better than I understand myself sometimes. He understood how important this year was to me and to us as a family and worked to make it happen and still got home early enough to be a part of our daily routine. This year and a half has also taught me a lot about myself. I joked before I started this adventure that I was taking a year off to find out what I wanted to be when I grew up. Well, I figured that out. And so much more.

 In no particular order, here's some of what I learned.
 - I hate dishes in the sink and toys on the floor.
- Coffee reheated in the microwave just isn't as good.
 - I am a great mom, most days. The other days I'm just getting by.
 - As women, we don't support each other nearly as much as we should. If you have a girlfriend in your life that supports you, hold onto her.
-I need a bit of solitude in every day to feel like a normal person.
- I enjoy baking more than coking; that used to be the other way around.
 - I have more patience than I thought I had. Especially when reacting to tantruming 3 year olds.
 - I need physical exercise in my weekly routine to not feel like a crazy person. 
- Priorities change, and that's a good thing. If you had told me 5 years ago that I would rather be at home with my babies than continue my career path I'd have thought you were nuts. But hey, life happens.
 - At my core, at the very center of who I am, I am a writer. NOT a school psychologist.
 - Nothing. I repeat, nothing is more important to me than knowing that I have raised compassionate, caring, respectful, successful children. The highest compliment anyone can pay me is to say I have great kids.

Set backs.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. -Serenity Prayer Fall down seven times, stand up eight. Every challenge is an opportunity. What would be the point of living if it didn't change us? (one of my favorite Downton Abbey quotes) All of us on a daily basis have the opportunity to move forward, backward or stay put. -Rob Lowe "Stories I Only Tell my Friends" I could go on and on with these motivational sayings after a setback, but I think you get the point. I've had a few setbacks recently. With the house, with my job, with my personal goals. If I wasn't a stronger person I would seriously start questioning a lot about myself. But I know myself well enough to know that after a day or two (ok, maybe 3 or 4) of the personal pity party and dust myself off and pick myself up (another cliche, sorry). As frustrating as it is that in the last six months I've been told: your house won't sell unless you sink more money into it, you've been "reassigned" to a new school but we won't tell you why, and you are motivated to focus on you but life will get in the way (again); I have tried to take every opportunity in stride and not let it get me down. But I'll admit, it's hard. Really hard. Until I learn how to accept change gracefully (grace has never been one of my strong suits) I'll just have to keep getting back on my horse and riding. Another cliche, sorry.

What Not to Wear, unless you're a mom.

Here's a little glimpse into my life. Kitten still isn't consistently sleeping through the night and was up for two hours last night. I woke up with both Lovey and Kitten at 6:20 on about 4 or 5 hours sleep. Like most mornings of this nature Lovey and Kitten were very demanding of my time and Honey was put the door to work by 6:30. We layer in my bed and the girls had milk while I tried to sleep. Lovey had other ideas and either sang or talked the entire time. Kitten finished her milk and leaned over to try to grab Lovey's glasses.

I finally give up and take them both downstairs. In the next two hours I have to: make coffee, drink coffee (hopefully and hopefully still warm), feed three people, pack a snack and a backpack, dress three people, force one person to eat and pee and get her hair brushed while trying to remain calm and simultaneously bribe her with TV shows. Whilst this forcing occurs a little person with a new found love of practicing her bite is whining at my leg begging to be picked up so she can sink her chompers into my shoulder.

When mornings are like this something's gotta give. And I will be damned if it's me. So these are the days the following attire is required: unwashed ponytail, baggy yoga pants, a stained, ripped hoodie, and slip on sneakers. I have no time for anything else on these days. These are the days I'm lucky if I remember to brush my teeth. And yes I wear this attire to school drop off and occasionally to the grocery store. Gasp.

I have been a fan of Stacy and Clinton's work for years. I love What Not to Wear and have learned a lot about my style in the process. I have learned that the above attire is strictly forbidden in public. They very often go straight for the fuzzy fleece garments and throw them directly into the trash. They abhore the word "comfortable". They find practical sneaker unsightly. They call comfort clothes "giving up". (I call it survival.) I get it. Not attractive or stylish. Not for public viewing. Honestly, I'd be shocked if Stacy or Clinton wore sweats in private. I picture them lounging on the couch in sheath dresses and seersucker suits. But I'm pretty sure neither Stacy nor Clinton has children, or watches said non-existent children full-time. Or has children and has to go off to work after a morning like that. Therefore, as the saying goes, they "just don't get it".

So to all you mommies out there, whether you're a stay at home mom or a working mom who has ever had a morning like this, fear not. I give you permission to get through the day however you can and if it means dressing like a schlub, so be it. If Stacy and Clinton don't like it they can kiss my yoga pant covered ass.

Some thoughts on weight.

-I have had a battle with my weight my whole life. I was always a chubby kid and growing up I never really had a healthy understanding of food and nutrition. Until recently I don't think I ever saw food as nourishment for my body, but for my emotions.

-I grew up with a morbidly obese mother. My stepfather is also obese, as was my late mother in-law. My mother in-law died as a result of complications from her obesity. I have a fear of becoming morbidly obese. My healthy eating role models are lacking. Everything I've learned about healthy eating I taught myself.

-In 2007 I successfully got to and maintained my lowest weight. I had a healthy BMI for the first time ever. I did it with the help of Weight Watchers, and actually went on to work for them, and exercise. But I still didn't make the mind shift about why we eat. By November 2007 I was pregnant and while I lost most of the weight, I never really had the focus I had back then.

-Flash forward to today. Two kids, an extra 10 pounds and a recent diagnosis with a wealth of food allergies. You can read all about that here.

-Food allergies have definitely helped me see food as nourishment as has my own self improvement (that sounds trite) which has helped me face my demons head on. I also have to say that like all other things Honey is my constant supporter.

-The food allergies have really been a wake up call to get my health and my weight in check. Since Kitten was born I've been making one half hearted attempt at weight loss after another. To no avail, the weight stays. What I needed was a radical change.

-And then it hit me, my aha moment. I am addicted to my scale. I've known for some time but never acknowledged it. Until now. I stumbled upon the blog Oh She Glows through Pinterest and read about Angela's journey to becoming a vegan after struggling with disorder eating. She also shared that she doesn't weight herself. I too had a history of disordered eating. After grad school living alone on Cape Cod, unknowingly suffering some depression I binged. And binged. Being that I'm a person who hates to vomit I never purged, I just got fatter. Realizing my depression allowed me to move and join Weight Watchers and recognize my binge behavior but to this day I have to watch those habits so they don't creep up. Except they did and I didn't realize it. I was binging on the scale. I was weighing myself daily, sometimes twice a day. I used the scale as the gauge for what I would wear, what I would eat, how I would feel. If the number was low i would rejoice and eat a cookie. If the number was high I would fret, eat a salad for lunch, and hit the gym. And yet, there were never any major results, just more dissatisfaction with my weight. Are you seeing how vicious a cycle this was?

-After a talk with Honey I decided to give up the scale. The goal is to go a month without weighing myself although I can step on in two weeks if I need to. I'll be honest, I'm three days in and it has been really hard. Really hard. I need a fix bad. But I keep telling myself to stay the course. Instead of focusing on the number on the scale I'm trying to focus on eating healthy and exercising. I'm hoping to see results not only in a number but also in how I feel, and in my clothes. I need to get to a place where the number on the scale doesn't define me. I'm not there yet, but I'm trying.

My point in sharing this is to be honest with myself and to face my fears. Nothing great ever happens when you stand behind your fear. Makes me think of the Garth Brooks song Standing Outside the Fire, a favorite from my college days. I know there is someone out there with the same struggle as me. I hope this helps you too.

UPDATE: I had a slip. In full confession I will say that I didn't make it a full two weeks. I did make it a full week, but caved on Easter and stepped on the scale. I'm glad I did and I'm happy to report that it hasn't made me want to step back on. Weel, maybe a little. But I haven't.

Books on my nightstand.

I don't often read more than one book at a time, unless I'm reading fiction and non-fiction. Although right now I've got four books going. Sheesh. The only non-fiction I seem to read these days are parenting books. Currently Lovey is going through a picky eater stage so I'm loading up on how to get your kid to eat books from the library. There's also the books I'm reading for book club and another book I grabbed from the library that is much better than I thought. So without further blabber:

The Night Stranger by Chris Bohjilian
Chris Bohjilian and Anne Lammott are my favorite authors. But even favorites have some duds sometimes. This might be one of them. I have put it down about 60 pages in and I will eventually pick it back up but I'm not in a hurry. The premise is the surviving pilot of a crash that killed all but 8 people moves into a haunted house. It has potential, I just haven't found it yet.

Stories I Only Tell my Friends by Rob Lowe
This one was the surprise. I picked it up when I went to the library to get the picky eater books. It is really good. Rob Lowe has an enjoyable writing style. His stories do sound like ones he'd tell his friends at a lingering dinner party with lots of wine. The number of celebrities that he has crossed patches with is pretty astounding, even for someone who is a celebrity. But at the end of the day, he really is just a middle class kid who made good. Definitely worth a library borrow.

Take the Fight Out of Food by Donna Fish
and Food Chaining by Cheri Falker
Ah yes, the picky eater books. The first one is great. It describes my daughters eating style to perfection. The Beige Food eater. In addition it also provides strategies to teach nutrition and good health to your child as a way of encouraging healthy eating habits. The best part is that it tells parents not to worry about the picky eater if they are growing and thriving. I needed that.
The second book is a little too technical and scientific for me. It delves into a feeding disorder evaluation and how to know when to seek one. We don't need that so aside from the chart in the appendix that lists all the different foods, drinks, and textures a child eats, this book is largely unhelpful. Really glad I didn't spend the money on it. It goes back to the library.

Other books yet to be read are Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins and One Morning, One Moment by Sarah Rylant. Both of these are book club books. We read the first book of the Hunger Games trilogy and got sucked in so decided to read the whole series. I zipped through the first two but I got the third for Honey for his birthday so I actually had to wait until his birthday to put it in my book pile. I'm looking forward to it. The other book I might not even have the title and author right on. I know nothing about it. We picked it randomly at book club for those people who finish the trilogy and are looking for something else. I'll let you know.

What books are on your nightstand right now? The club is always looking for suggestions. I am too.

Keep it simple.

In the ever present quest for self improvement I finally came up with three simple goals I'd like to accomplish everyday. The point of the goals is not to give me more work to do, but to make me feel more me. It seems I always have an issue with time for myself. I used to think it was just a mommy problem, now I've come to learn its actually a woman problem. We put everyone else first before us. I have struggled with this my whole life. Having a family certainly doesn't help. Don't get me wrong, I think men and daddies have this issue too, but it's different. I don't think men put as much pressure on themselves. I could be wrong. Any men care to weigh in? Oh, that's right, only two people read this.

Which leads me back to my goals. Three things I need to do everyday to feel like myself.

1) read. Anything. Well, not Facebook. But blogs count as reading, as do books or magazines.

(2) write. It doesn't have to be here on the blog, but anything. Writing has always been my creative outlet and I'd like to be more creative in my daily life. And I'd eventually like to write a book. But that's a story for another time. Literally. In all honesty, if I write daily I will get that much closer to the big-fear-scary-goal of writing a book.

(3) exercise. Every day. It helps me keep my sanity. It doesn't have to be hardcore cardio. It just has to be something exercise. I'm hoping my jeans will thank me.

It seems simple and so far I'm 1:1. I hope I can stick to it and see a difference in my overall attitude (and waistline) as a result.

The daughter takes a wife.

The other day Lovey was singing The Farmer and the Dell. She happily sang "the daughter takes a wife, the daughter takes a wife, hi ho a derry oh, the daughter takes a wife". I didn't correct her. I was actually proud. It means Honey and I are doing our jobs. It means Lovey doesn't see anything wrong with a girl marrying another girl. Since she was born Honey and I have made sure that when we talk about love and marriage we are either gender neutral or all inclusive. We tell her she can marry whomever she wants boy, girl, black, white, short, tall, fat, purple. You name it. As long as that person treats with respect. Now I just need to see if I can get her to teach that song to Kitten.

My inner voice called and I sent it to voice mail.

On Saturday Kitten had an accident and ended up in the ED. She's fine. Although her Dare Devil status still stands. Now that I've gotten over the mommy guilt of letting her get into a situation where she could hurt herself I found the lesson. Don't ignore your inner voice.

You know the one. Everyone has it. The little thought in your head that tells you something bad is about to happen. Well, I ignored it. And now my kid looks like a prize fighter. The last time I ignored my inner voice was the day Kitten was born. I knew I was in labor but somehow I ignored the voice. Kitten was born an hour after I got to the hospital. And then there was the time my inner voice told me to go in the basement because there was a tornado. But I ignored the voice. It was a tornado.

I wonder why it is that this voice gets ignored so much. Is it because we think we are invincible? Do we assume it's worth the risk and nothing bad can happen? I wish I knew. It does no good to ignore it. Whatever the reason I think I've finally gotten the strong dose of reality to ensure that I will always listen to it again.

The other blog.

A while back I said I started another blog. It's just as neglected as this one. I'm trying to keep track of the allergy safe recipes somewhere. If you're interested you can check it out here.

My daughter: Dare devil.

We call Kitten many things: lots of derivatives of her real name, plus Trouble Maker, Miss Chievious, Destructo-Girl. And now the latest: Dare Devil.

This morning after we dropped Lovey off at school I ran to the store to grab a few things I needed before the weather changed. I figured I could run in and out and get home in time for the morning nap. Lately Kitten has been very adventurous. I love that about her spirit, but it comes with some dangerous consequences. She has fallen off the bed-twice, crawled into the coffee table-also twice, and catapulted herself off a chair-thankfully I caught her foot before she hit the floor-that time. The grocery cart has become her newest playgroup for exploration. She loves to turn around in the seat and look at the food in the cart behind her. Or try to pull her sister's hair. She has managed to do it even with the seat belt tightly wrapped around her. So today I thought I could occupy her with something in her hands and so I didn't strap her in. Big mistake. HUGE. (Name that movie.) We made it through the store with me redirecting her to sit the whole time. At self check out I was scanning my items when I heard a noise. I turned and Kitten was laying inside the cart! In about five seconds flat she turned around in the seat and fell into the cart. Thank god she didn't decide she wanted something on the floor. I scooped her up and assessed the damage. Thankfully she seemed okay. I calmed her down and held her for the rest of check out. I then had a nice chat with the lady at the self check out next to me about how we get more hurt than they do when they pull stunts like this. She told me to go home and rest. As if. I live with Evil Knevil.

When we got home Kitten had developed some very attractive goose eggs on her forehead to make the one she got yesterday from the coffee table incident. We had a nice snuggle before her nap and I was struck with how her adventurous spirit will continue to rattle my nerves for the rest of my life. But I won't stifle it. I want her to be an explorer and a risk taker. It makes her her. At the same time I couldn't help but think what Edmund Hillary's mother said when he told her he was going to climb Mount Everest. Did he get a "that's nice dear"? Did she tell him to pack a sweater and clean undies? What about Jacques Cousteau's mom? Did she worry that he was going to run out of air? Either way, I know they supported their children and wished them well on their adventures and then prayed hard until they returned to their arms. Obviously, otherwise Edmund and Jacques probably wouldn't have gone to the heights or the depths they went. I'll be sure to let Kitten go where her heart takes her, just as long as it's not over the side of the grocery cart again.

On Lent and giving up.

Today is the first day of Lent which usually has people scrambling around to find something to give up and a quick and dirty way to reflecting and repenting during the season. Every year people vow to give up a vice. Usually something they enjoy, but know its bad for them. Like chocolate, or potato chips. My friend Carol gave up dropping the F-bomb for Lent a few years ago. She loves the word and uses it well, but a bit too often. She, like most people, didn't last too long before she slipped and started using it again. And when she did her response was simple, "I like it." I agree. We "give up" things we enjoy because they're "bad" for us. And then as soon as Lent is over we go back to our old ways.

But really, eating chocolate or chips or uttering the phrase "un-fucking-believable" just feels good. And good in moderation isn't bad. So this year, I think if you are going to give up something that you should give up something that really IS bad for you. Like the crack pipe. (Sorry, bad joke, I've been watching too much Breaking Bad lately.) No really. Give up comparing yourself to a standard that can't be met. Give up scrutinizing yourself in the mirror. Give up self doubt. And vow that when Lent is over you won't go back to your old ways. At the New Year I decided I was going to resolve to give up some self-destructive bad habits. I have stopped: fishing for compliments (If I think I did a good job or that I look good-that's enough), I've stopped passively asking for what I want and actually ask for it, and I've tried to stop the "me too" (you know, when someone is sharing a personal story and rather than validate their feelings you say "me too" there by dismissing their comment). So far, so good. I plan to keep going during Lent and beyond too.

What bad for you thing are you giving up for Lent this year? Don't say potato chips.

You're the survivor.

To say its been a stressful few weeks would be a vast understatement. Our house is still on the market and it seems it will not sell. We are faced with taking it off the market and putting more money into it to get out of it next year. Hopefully. That not the point of the story though, just a little update.

Honey and I had a date night a few weeks ago to get away from the stress for a few hours. Me went to Feng in Hartford and had some really good sushi. The tables were set really close to each other and so we were basically sitting on top of the people next to us. In the middle of dinner Honey leans over and says, "Excuse me, but I think I know you". Turns out he grew up with them and they knew his parents. We had a nice chat with them during which the wife asks me if I have siblings. I spontaneously answered "I have a sister who died when I was 12". This is surprising to me because my standard answer to strangers is "I'm an only child", it's just easier than explaining. She said something along the lines of "how terrible" to which I replied "it's just part of my story". Which it is. Because this story has made me who I am and for that I am grateful. Then she said something to me that made me respect her greatly and strengthen me in a way she will never understand. She took a deep breath and said "You're the survivor".

The thing is, I've always felt that way. I did survive the trauma of my childhood so that I could get to the other side to be the person I've become. That phrase has stuck with me ever since in these stressful days. If I can survive what I've already been through, I can survive anything, big or small.

In a cruel twist, the week after this conversation my real estate agent's daughter died suddenly after a long battle with drug addiction. I went to the wake not only because I care for my agent, but also because I know how difficult it is to be on the other side of the receiving line. I stood there trying desperately not to make this about me, fighting back tears. I made my way through the line and met the deceased woman's sister. She is now where I was some 23 years ago. Suddenly an only child. All I was thinking in my head, but never said because I was holding back my own emotions...You're the survivor. Even though I didn't have the strength to say it to her I hope she knows and carries it with her like I do.

New favorite show.

Over the years my favorite TV show has changed almost year to year. There are favorites that Honey and I watch together, like LOST (which Honey says is the best show ever created for television). And shows that are "just for me".

My favorite show of childhood would be a tie between the Wonder Years (which you can get on Netflix streaming now-Score!) and Life Goes On. I loved that LGO told a story about a character living with AIDS at a time when AIDS discussions were so taboo. And still are to a large extent. But that show made AIDS accessible to teens and as a teen with a close relative who died of AIDS complication I appreciated that. If you've never checked it out, please do.

My all-time favorite show as an adult is Sex and the City. I own every episode. It was a show that brought me closer to my girlfriends. It helped me appreciate my single status finding my way in my 20s in Boston. It still resonates with so much of my life. I'm also a big fan of Grey's Anatomy for a lot of the same reasons. Over the years it has lost a lot of it's luster, but I still tune in, because I am a very character driven girl in TV, film, and books, and I need to know what happens to these people.

But now. There is a new show in my life. To say that I am obsessed is only putting it mildly. Very mildly. It is a new addiction. I spend far too many hours of the day thinking about it. Downton Abbey. Please tell me you've seen it. I had heard buzz about it when it first cam out but I hadn't watched it. In our house we very rarely watch live TV anymore. It seems impossible with two kids and early bedtimes. So because it wasn't available to watch online I'd never seen it. Until last week. I saw it on Netflix streaming and scooped it up. Addicted. Obsessed. Enthralled. Need I go on? Now I'm hunting down the second season online to watch because I just can't get enough. It's like a high-brow soap opera. A guilty pleasure that doesn't make you feel that guilty. If you haven't seen it, run, don't walk to check it out.

And then come talk to me all about it.

Home.

I was gonna start this post with some cheesy quote about home. But it means different things to everyone. At its simplest home is where ever Honey, Lovey, and Kitten are. That place seems to be changing a bit.

Honey and I bought a new house. We saw it back in October and fell in love. We put in an offer that was rejected but put in another offer in January that was accepted. Not the smartest thing to do while you only have one salary but whatever. Now we just have to sell our house. Our first home. Where both our daughters were conceived. Where we brought both of them home from the hospital. Our home.

It sure does do something funky to your emotions at the thought of packing all that up in boxes and throwing it in a storage unit, but that's exactly what we did. With a deep breath, a little anxiety, and a slightly heavy heart we put our house on the market. Five days later we're a little more stressed but overall fairing well. I do take it personally whenever someone doesn't love what we have loved for five years, but they don't have to. Well, someone does. In the meantime, I'll love it. Until we have a new house to make home.