I believe that as parents and caregivers, we need to be more pro-active and communicate more effectively with our children. We need to have the heavy discussions with them, no matter if it makes us feel uncomfortable. Not only do we need to discuss the issues of bullying and suicide, but there are many other topics that we need to take responsibility in teaching our children. Topics such as puberty, body development, hormone changes, stress in school, peer pressure, drugs, sex, abstinence, birth control, sexually transmitted diseases, relationships, death and grief, etc.

I say this, because too many times children learn about these things the wrong way. They learn by experimenting, or by someone in school. They don't always get the correct information. When your child asks an important question on these topics, don't just blow them off. Don't assume that they should know these things, or that someone else will tell them and will provide the correct information. WE are their parent. WE need to communicate with them.

We do not always need to be friends with our children. We need to be parents first. Children need to be taught discipline (I'm not talking about consequences in discipline. I mean behaving in an appropriate way and doing what is right), structure and guidance. We should guide them to be the people we would like for them to be. Sure, they will make mistakes and make the wrong choices in life sometimes, but that is also a learning experience. We are here to guide them and make sure that if they fall, we are there to pick them up. If my child tells me that he/she hates me, then I am doing my job. Hearing those things may hurt me, but quite frankly, it means that I'm doing the parent thing the way I'm supposed to, rather than letting my child do whatever he/she wants. Being friends with our children should come later, when they are old enough and mature enough to handle the difference.

When my daughter was 10 years old I had the puberty discussion with her, which included how her body was changing, hormones and the changing of her feelings. It wasn't something I really wanted to do, because in my eyes, she was still just a little girl. However, her body was telling us both something different, and I figured it was time for me to have that discussion with her, so that she was prepared when things start changing more drastically. She is now 12 and puberty has really hit her hard, but she was ready for it with the discussions we had when she was younger. She asks me questions and we talk as openly as she needs to. She is now interested in boys, so we've had deeper discussions about those topics. The door to communication is always open between us, and I hope this continues as she hits her teenage years.

My son was 6 when he asked me how babies come out. He thought it was weird that babies are in a mother's tummy and wanted to know how they came out specifically. I actually explained to him both about vaginal births, and C-sections. He thought it was gross, but he was also interested enough to stay and listen to me. He asked a lot of questions, and I answered the best that I could, in a language and tone he could understand. I didn't think it would be appropriate for me to shrug off his questions and tell him he would know those things when he got older. My son has OCD (Obessive/Compulsive Disorder) and ODD (oppositional defiant disorder) so telling him that would only make his curiosity stronger. I would much rather that I be the one to tell him those things, than for him to ask someone who would not give him the right information. He is now 8 years old and the questions seem to get a little bit harder to answer, but we do so because it's the right thing to do...in the language that he will understand.

But I digress....

What all of this boils down to, is the fact that we must communicate with our children and have those important discussions, because when the time comes when something more serious develops (such as bullying), they will know that that they can come to us. The suicide rate has increased because some of those individuals did not talk to anyone about their issues and their feelings. They just took their lives without any communication whatsoever. I want my children to be able to talk to me about anything, and in order for them to be able to do that, I need to make them feel that I will listen and hear everything they have to say without bias, and I will help to guide them in the right direction. This doesn't necessarily mean that I will like what they have to say, but I do need to listen.

We are our children's parent, teacher, and mentor. We need to grasp the teachable moments and be positive role models. It starts with us.

~Amy~

Many of my Texan friends have asked me how I got to Iowa and why I moved away so far. It's an interesting story...one full of risk, adventure, and love.

And in most stories, there have been lessons learned.

I was married in March of 1997 in Waco, Texas and we moved to Arlington, Texas for his job. We were divorced 10 months later, after being together a total of 3 years. As I literally watched this man drive away from me and the house we bought together and begin a new life without me, I stood there wondering what the hell had just happened. I felt like a failure as a woman and as a wife, and I fell apart.

I was teaching special education in the Grand Prairie school district, and I just stopped going to work. I didn't call in, and I didn't show up. I couldn't get out of bed and I wanted to be left alone. I was going through a major depression that I have had for most of my life, but it was just never diagnosed. As a teenager when I would get into so much trouble, my parents just thought I was defiant and a trouble maker. Now we all realize that I had some mental health issues which probably could explain past behaviors and attitudes much more clearly.

I literally secluded myself. I was afraid to leave the house, and I didn't want to talk to anyone. My parents wanted me to move back home with them, but that was out of the question for me. Moving back home meant admitting something was wrong, and I didn't want to do that. I stopped talking with my friends, and I stopped hanging out with the neighbors. When we sold our house, I moved the furthest away that I could from where he and I lived together as man and wife. Everything reminded me of him, and it was just too painful.

I ended up resigning from my teaching position, before they fired me, and they gave me some names of counselors I could talk to. So, my life for almost a year, was filled with going to counseling and secluding myself in my apartment. I think that's when I turned 30, which was the most depressing birthday of my life.

The one thing that kept me from going insane, was the internet. This was a time when the internet was getting really popular, and chatting online seemed to be the perfect thing for me. I could go into a chat room and be anyone I wanted to be...I could say anything and feel my emotions without being judged or looked upon as a failure. I didn't have to be a divorced woman with depression...this was my escape. It was like reading a good book and being captivated in the story-line, except that I was the author and I had control of the outcomes. I was fascinated and it consumed my entire day and night.

I met a man who lived in Iowa Falls, and with whom I began to trust with my personal life. He was sweet and caring and seemed to get me. We talked online and we talked on the phone for hours. He was married and had two kids, and his family knew about me. He knew how miserable I was, and he knew I wanted a change. He offered to come and get me and move me back to Iowa to live with him and his family until I could get back up on my feet. I didn't have to think twice about this. I was ready for a change, and I knew I needed to get back in control of my life.

My parents had a field day with this. If you know my parents at all, then you'd know that they were very old school and had very traditional values for their children (I say "were" because my father passed away two years ago, and my mother has changed into an amazing woman who still lives in Houston). All my mother kept asking was how did I know this man was not a serial killer and didn't I know how dangerous it would be to meet someone all alone for the first time? For some reason, I believed in this man, and my only response was how did HE know that ~I~ wasn't the serial killer. As much as they argued with me, I never caved in because of my extreme stubbornness.

So my mother decided to take what little control she had, and wanted to know my make/model/year of my car, the same for his car, his entire family's name, their address, and what roads we would be taking. I was to call her every time we stopped for anything and let her know how I was doing. She also told me that once he showed up at my doorstep, if I was scared or uncomfortable, I was to give him some money and send him on his way. Also...we would have a code to make sure that everything was ok. I had a cat named Casper, and my mother decided that when she would call me, she would ask how Casper was doing. If I was scared or something awful had happened, I would tell her that Casper was sick, and she would drop everything to come and get me. If I was fine, then Casper was fine. I thought it was weird, but she insisted. He showed up...and I about choked. He looked scary...He had a very long beard which covered most of his face, and he had no teeth. I didn't want to give in, so when he began speaking, I closed my eyes, and I could hear the same tone and same tenderness I had for so long on the phone. I knew everything would be ok. He showed up with a U-haul and a smile, and we were on our way.

16 hours later, we arrived in Iowa Falls, which also sort of scared me. This is a very small town, and it looked dirty to me. I had come from big cities in Texas, and never wanted for anything. Suddenly, I was in a dreamworld and I started to question this decision of mine. The family was nice..the wife a bit more obnoxious than I was used to, and they moved my bed and a few of my clothes into a huge back room which they used as a computer/living room. The rest of my furniture and things were put in storage. They were loud, and I had no privacy. I needed a job, and I needed it fast.

I found a job working at a gas station, which wasn't the greatest thing in the world, but it got me out of the house. I began to relax a bit however, because these people weren't the "backwards po-dunk country people" as I had put it, but they were NICE people who would give you the shirt off of their back without question. I got a second job working on the mental health floor at the local hospital and began to earn enough money that I rented the apartment below the house I was living in. It was much better...I had privacy, and I had space, yet I was still near the family who were being so kind to me. I learned to love the entire family...and I trusted them with my life.

I lived this way for a year. I was happy again, but I was lonely. Friends of mine decided to set me up with a guy who was living with them, and who also had a bad past with women.  We met, and the attraction was instant. Two people who were not looking for love, found it through being set up by mutual friends on a blind date.  How often does THAT happen?

Danny and I moved in together after we found out I was pregnant with our first child...only three months into dating each other. We found our own place, and we have been inseparable ever since. Danny was not the typical guy I would have gone out with in Texas. He had long hair, and didn't graduate from high school...but there was something about him that really made me want to get to know him better. I won't get into the entire story of how we connected, but it turns out that he is the most gentle and caring man I have ever met, and he is my best friend. He is the father of our children, and is totally amazing. He's smart in so many areas, and he supports me in everything.

I am still in constant contact with the friends who brought me into their home. I have been touched by their generosity and I owe them everything. If it weren't for this family, I truly do not know where I would be today.

Lessons learned...

I have learned to forgive myself of the past. I have learned that money and prestige are not everything, and that true friendships are something to hold onto. I have learned about farming and the country life, and I wouldn't go back to the big city life if I was paid to do it.  I also learned to let go of my ex-husband.  Everything happens for a reason.  He left me, so I could meet the love of my life.  I am grateful for that.

I have taken my own past, and I have used it for the good. I have worked with juvenile delinquents, and I have worked with many people who have mental health issues. I am working on a higher education to become a licensed professional counselor, and I give my expertise and knowledge to those who are willing to listen. Danny and I have also both taken in people into our home who need a stable environment.  We have opened up our home, in the same way that a home was opened up to me nearly 14 years ago. Pay it forward.

So...a huge risk that I took, ended up being the best decision I have ever made in my life and I couldn't be happier. Remember my cat, Casper? I swear, my mother called nearly everyday for a year asking me how Casper was doing, and I would always respond the same way...that he was happy and content and that everything was fine. Casper died four years ago, at the age of 16. He lived a happy and fulfilled life...as I am doing now.

I love and I am loved. After all, isn't that what makes the world go round?

~Amy~

Depression. We all know what it is and how to find the resources for help. I’m not going to provide links and information about something which is very accessible on the internet. The websites talk about prevalence and contributing factors and sometimes what causes depression. What the websites don’t necessarily tell you, is how a person with depression feels.

This is my story. It’s about having clinical depression and how it makes me feel. It’s about being honest with myself about this disease and how I’ve struggled for most of my life. This is an honest and truthful tale and full of emotion. It is a daily struggle, one of which started at a very young age, but wasn’t recognized until much later. The time span that is being discussed, is before I was aware I had depression, through my recovery now.

*** DISCLAIMER: Please be aware that the emotions here are gut wrenchingly honest and truthful from my own perspective. Others who have depression may not experience what I have been through, so I want people reading this to understand that this is my story, and my story only. Also...this was written 3 years ago, and although the emotions and facts are still accurate, I am no longer suffering from depressive episodes.  I am happy, healthy, and my recovery process has been wonderful. ***

I am happily married and I have two beautiful children. I have a Special Education Degree, a Human Services Degree with a minor in Psychology, and I am currently in Graduate School getting my Master’s in mental health counseling (Future LPC).  I am a compassionate woman and I have worked in the human services field for years, helping others to achieve their potential and make better choices for themselves. I have taught anger management, coping skills and decision making skills to adolescents at risk. I have been a social worker in nursing home, and have worked on the psychiatric unit at a local hospital. I am an advocate for mental health awareness, suicide prevention, bullying,  and I work hard to try and erase the stigma some people believe mental health disorders have.

I am a wife, mother, and a friend who happens to have a mental illness. It’s not who I am, but what I have. People tend to forget that an individual who has depression or any other disorder is actually a person underneath the chaos and despair. On my worst days, it feels as if the depression consumes me and takes over my entire body. I am filled with negative thoughts and pessimistic views. I am irritable, impulsive, anxious, and sometimes I am sarcastic even to those I love,. I can even become narcissistic and wonder why people don’t see me as this wonderful person and become aggravated when they want nothing to do with me. I once went as far as telling one of my very best friends to shut up because her voice was bothering me (I feel utterly horrible about that, but luckily she is a wonderful friend who is aware of my depression and is extremely supportive and understanding). Voices, loud noises, and constant talking are subjected to my frustration and although it’s no one’s fault by my own, I go into a zone where the aggravation completely takes over and sometimes I get migraines which don’t help the situation at all.  I was also diagnosed with borderline personality disorder over a year ago.  Some of the symptoms I just described go along with that.

I can hear myself when I’m angry and depressed, and I can hear the words, tone, and pitch of what I’m saying and on a subconscious level, I cringe at what I’m doing. I know that I’m wrong and I know that I’m being hurtful, but at the same time, I cannot stop. It’s like having an out of body experience where you are floating above and watching every movement and hearing every word, but are powerless to stop. It’s the worst feeling in the world, when you know that you are being unreasonable and could be hurting someone’s feelings. That is why I have learned to keep my mouth shut until I can calm down and have an adult conversation with someone. However, even that can get me into trouble because I am seen as being disrespectful and defiant and as someone who doesn’t seem to have the patience to deal with a situation tactfully.

I believe that my having depression is partly responsible for the failure of my first marriage. My emotions were everywhere, and I was not easy to live with. Once he left me, I finally realized that something was terribly wrong and I needed to do something about it. I could no longer deny that I had a problem, especially since it was affecting my relationships and my work ethic. I began therapy and was put on antidepressants. Within a few weeks, I could tell a world of difference in my attitude, and was ready for a change. I felt as if staying where I was (in Texas) after a divorce was just not conducive to my recovery, so I decided to move out of the comfort zone and started completely over in Iowa (That story is another post you can find on this blog).

Once I realized that I needed help, I struggled with having to rely on antidepressants to make me feel better. I didn’t want to rely on them and I didn’t want people to view me differently for not being able to handle my emotions on my own. Once I got past those feelings, my road to recovery could start. (** Currently, I am off of my antidepressant medication, and have been doing extremely well for over a year**)

My recovery is a continual process. There are days when I’m doing very well, and other days when I feel like I’ve taken two step backwards again and it can be very frustrating. It doesn’t last long, though. I’ve learned that if I am having a bad day, then I need to use a coping skill, such as blogging or guided imagery, or taking deep breaths. I’ve learned to communicate with my family, who are absolutely amazing in their unconditional love and I am very grateful for their ongoing support. I am learning that sometimes I need to step back from trying to help the world, and focus on myself and my own healing. I am trying not to be so impulsive and freak out when things are not going my way.

Right now, I am in the process of writing my life story on another Blog, entitled, “Living with Depression.” It is detailed from when I was a child, through my adolescence, adulthood and to the present day. This is a very therapeutic exercise for me, and although there are some people who may not agree with the specifics which I will be writing about, it is something I need to do for myself. I hope that one day, it might be good enough to turn into a book.

I hope this story (and others I have written on this blog) will help others to understand that those of us who have depression or any other mental illness, are individuals first. It’s not who we are, but what we have.

Thank you.

~Amy~