My Daughters Story, part 2

Just the other night, my daughters was asking when I was going to continue writing her story.  I told her it was about her, so doesn't she already know it. 😆  She said she wants to hear it from my point of view.  Truth is, that was really a few of the hardest years of our lives; for my husband and I, and for our daughter.  It's really hard to want to purposely think about it.  In starting this blog, though, I knew I needed to be honest about all the things that have happened along my health journey.  Mental and emotional and spiritual health are such huge pieces of the puzzle.  I would not be painting an honest picture if I didn't include them in this journey.  Sharing is part of the healing.  So here goes:  Part 2.

As Ada was about to enter high school, some circumstances changed in our lives.  We decided to pull the younger three kids out of public school and homeschool them.  Since Ada was entering 10th grade and only had a few years left, we opted not to homeschool her.  All my research and studying up to this point was regarding teaching younger grades, not high school.  I felt it was already going to be a difficult adjustment and I didn't want to get in over my head.

A few days before school started, Ada came to us and asked if she could homeschool as well.  We discussed why she desired this and what that would mean.  She has a lot of anxiety, both social anxiety and performance anxiety.  She gets overwhelmed with so many people in the same environment, such as the high school setting.  She is also a perfectionist who doesn't do well with failure.  This is a struggle she has had since she was young.  In many instances she would not try anything new because she was afraid she wouldn't be good at it right away.  Failure was filled with anxiety.  She did not see it as a growth opportunity, something that could help her to learn and progress.  For these reason, she was hoping to homeschool.

I told her we needed to take it to the Lord, that we both needed to pray about it and decide what was best.  What we decided to do was dual enrollment, part of the day at public school doing classes such as math, seminary, and choir, and part of the day at home doing her other classes at her own pace online.  She would not be graduating with a degree or walking at graduation with her graduating class, because I would be writing up her transcripts.  She informed us that she was okay with this arrangement and that the Lord had told her this would be the best option for her at this time.

The questions still remain:  were we giving in to her anxiety, feeding it and allowing it to control her life?  Were we neglecting to teach her how to cope with it, because situations will always arise in her future life where she will have to confront the anxiety head on?  We live in a world with other people; we have to learn how to cope and survive.  I still don't know the answer to those questions.  I trusted the Lord that we were doing the right thing and we moved forward with it.  It's possible that all along, we all needed this homeschool experience together, to strengthen our family bonds to have that extra measure of spirituality I was able to provide in a home situation that they didn't get at school.  We had much that we were faced with in the next few years; we needed that strong family bond that this opportunity brought to us. 

It was during the next few years that Ada's struggles became overwhelming, to both her and to us.  The behaviors she chose, her ways to cope with life, started to take control of her life. Without her realizing it, it controlled how she interacted with every person, it controlled her moods, it took away her peace.  Those who struggle with addictive coping struggles don't understand how much their actions effect others.  They bully.  They are mean.  They push family and friends away without realizing it.  Their guilt causes them to isolate themselves more and more.  And they turn to these behaviors to cope with the way they behave, to have the release that brings them temporary fulfillment.  Then the cycle continues.  These struggles change personalities.  Living a life contrary to her value system caused her more depression and more anxiety. 

The sad thing is, it's really hard to be around people who are angry and mean all the time.  It is like you are allowing someone to beat you up each and every day.  Because, emotionally, that's what they are doing.  I understand addiction.  I understand the person who deals with it.  I have studied it quite a bit.  I have seen loved ones struggle, and triumph.  Because of that, all I knew to do was to continue to love her, even when she was mean.  No matter what choices she made, even if we knew they were contrary to what would bring her ultimate happiness, we chose to love her.  What good would it do any of us if we pushed her away?  She already had a low self esteem.  She already felt unlovable and not good enough.  She needed to know that, as her parents, that love would never leave.  Ever.

Ada's little sister, Mae, got the brunt of a lot of her anger through these years.  And yet, Mae still loved her.  She had this amazing, resilient love, a gift that I'm sure was given to her.  She tried so hard to always show her love to Ada, even when Ada would push her away.  Yet, she stilled tried.  I don't think Ada ever realized how much her siblings loved her through this.  Even at young ages, they knew she was hurting, that she needed an extra measure of love.  They would give it any way they could, and never ask for it in return.  They prayed for her, they served her, they tried to include her.  I know her littlest brother, Ry, was one of the only ones who could make a difference sometime.  With his gentle love, and his affectionate personality, he was the only one that could reach through her tough exterior with the simple act of giving her a hug.  Truly, families are gifts from God, and each family member has unique gifts for helping each other through lives biggest trials.

That isn't to say it was always easy for the younger kids, though.  Kids need boundaries, but each kid is unique.  What works for one of my kids didn't necessarily work for Ada.  We had very unique circumstances with her, mental illness issues that influences the way we raised her.  The younger kids would often ask why she didn't have to do certain things that they did have to do.  It wasn't fair, in their eyes.  In truth, it probably wasn't.  There are times that we were just tired of the fight, tired of having to pick our battles, battles that we fought every single day.  But, as parents, we also had a unique understanding of what would be best for Ada.  So the boundaries were unique to her.  Did we mess up at times?  Absolutely!  But I will never deny that we did our best. 

It's hard to know how much to share, and how to break this up into part 3.  A lot of what happened during her high school years were the foundation for what happened her senior year, the most difficult year of all. As she reads this, some things might be difficult to read. I hope I share enough, especially for her to know, that she was loved.  Even with how difficult things were, there was so much spiritual growth, so many spiritual miracles that happened, that I would never want to give those back.  With each measure of difficulty we addressed an extra measure of love from God was given. 

I will just touch on a few more things. 

Her friendships:  I mentioned that because of her anxiety, because of her coping behaviors, she would pull into herself and hide out in her room.  That was her "safe" place.  But, because of that, she didn't reach out to build friendships.  She will contradict me and say that she did, but that they rejected her.  And to some extent they did.  Teenager's mental abilities are very immature.  They don't look at the whole picture of someone's life and circumstances and judge from there on how to behave.  They push people away, they don't give their friends the love that they need; in a word, they are self-serving most of the time.  It's just the truth about this age of growth.  We noticed that the type of friends Ada made at this time were, how do I say this, a bit broken.  They all had situations in their lives, choices that they made, that made them unhappy a lot of the time.  Ada was drawn to them.  I believe there are a few reasons for this.  I think it made her feel good to realize there were people like her that felt broken, but also that she wasn't quite as broken as them.  I also think she felt she could help rescue them, the way she would have wanted to be rescued. 

And lastly, I want to touch on things that I think I could have done better during this time, and things that I felt I did well:  I feel like we could have done better her whole life in teaching her that she could succeed at doing hard things.  In our desire to teach and correct behavior, I believe she felt she could never do anything right.  So by the time she was in high school, by the time we tried extra hard to build her self esteem, it fell on deaf ears.  She wouldn't believe us.  We tried to give honest praise, filled with love, but she rejected it.  I wish I would have been more excited for the things that she loved in her life, even if they were very different from things that I loved.  I wish I would have given more hugs every day, given her gentle caressing touches, even when the porcupine attitude came out. 

But what did I do right?  Maybe she will have to help me with this.  I would have to say that what I did right was to rely on the Lord.  I prayed, oh so much, for her.  I studied ways to understand her and love her in the way she needed.  I went to the temple WEEKLY, because it was there that peace would come and I would be filled with the love of an Eternal Father who understands what it's like to have children with struggles.  And I gave myself permission to honor her agency, while still setting boundaries in our home. 

I know these posts are long, and that a lot was unsaid of these few years of her life.  I felt this is what needed to be written, though. I hope, by sharing my story, that it reaches the heart of even one person who needed to hear it.

The Can-Can List

I'm a doer.

My friend once told me that I get more done on my "down" days than most people get done on their good days.  I come from farmer ancestors with a work-hard mentality: you get up and get your work done, no matter how you feel; others are in your care and the work must be done.  For me to go from doing, doing, doing to having days where I couldn't get out of bed for long, was extremely hard for me.  I've had to learn, though, the importance of self-care and finding a balance between 'doing' and 'resting' and how both are important. Even the Savior took time to go by Himself, to pray and connect with the Father in a personal way, and to take care of rejuvenating Himself.  Why do we think we are stronger than Him, that we don't need to moments of peace, solitude, and stillness?

Still, there have been days where I struggle with the fact that I can't do as much as I once did.  Emotions are complicated things.  One minute you feel peace with what life has dealt you, the next you are filled with sadness for the things you miss.  It was in one of these sad moments for me that I listened to General Conference, I believe it was April of 2017.  A story was told of a lady with a debilitating illness.  Though confined to a wheelchair, she strives to be grateful for things and adds to her "Can Can List":  a list of things she CAN do.  For me this was an answer and a testimony that, despite the things I can no longer do, there is much I CAN still do.  Mindset can change everything. 

Immediately after that talk, I started my own Can Can list.  For the first while I wrote two things every day.  "I can take hot showers.  I can kiss my husband.  I can read.  I can get myself dressed.   I can text friends. I can pray for others.  I can be a friend."  And the list continued.  Much like counting our blessings can help us get through our trials, focusing on the things I was able to do really helped to draw me out of sadness each day.  While I'm not consistent now, there are times where I draw myself back to add to this list.  When I forget how blessed I am, how far I've come from two years ago, it's always good for me to refocus and remember how good the Lord has been. 

This past week, I started to feel the weight of sorrow coming on me again.  Satan is very good at feeding on our weaknesses and making us feel not enough.  One thing I've always hoped is to be able to serve in the Young Women's organization when one of my daughters was in there.  Well, one daughter is now past that and the other is there now.  But why would I ever get called there now, I ask?  How would I ever have the strength and stamina that these young, active girls need from their leaders?  I see how much those leaders do and I get saddened to think I could never be that for the youth if I got called.  I feel the bishop would never call me because he would see my health as a hindrance for what the young women would need.  Yes, I realize this is a lack of faith and if the Lord wanted me there, He would provide a way.  And, just to be clear, I am Not seeking for a calling!  It's not about status or position.  It's about where my heart longs to be and where my body gets in the way.  It's more of a sorrow for not being able to do as much as I would like, in any calling.  I honesty feel the weight of this for any calling that would come my way.  Maybe this makes no sense, I don't know.  There's always the answers "no service is too small" and "all calling are important and needed."  I know that.  What's hard is to feel "enough" when my spirit wants to give more and can't.  "The spirit is willing, but the flesh it weak" takes on a different meaning for me.  I feel I have so much to give and just can't do what I desire.

And as I write I feel guilty because I know there are so many out there who can do so much less than me.  They have debilitating illnesses that keep them in bed and they can't even go to church.  And so I feel guilty for having my emotions, for having weaknesses.  Yes, emotions are complicated things.  It's as if you can't feel your emotions without feeling guilty for having those emotions. 

As I prayed one morning this week, seeking forgiveness for giving in to my weakness of desiring more and forgetting my blessings, I was impressed to remember I was not the only one to have felt this desire to serve in a greater capacity.  After completing my prayer, I opened the Book of Mormon to Alma chapter 29 verse 1:  "O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of my heart, that I might go forth and speak with the trump of God, with a voice to shake the earth, and cry repentance unto every people!"  He goes on to say that he is a man and does sin in his desire, that he should be content with the things the Lord has given him; because God will grant unto man the things they desire... and that might be destructive to them.  Seeing this, why should I desire more?  Why can't I trust in God that I am exactly where I should be and that I CAN still serve in the way He needs me to?  To desire more might actually be destructive to me.  Only the Lord knows, truly knows, what my body and spirit can handle.  If only I could learn to trust Him completely in all things.

And so, today, I add to my Can Can list.

Today, I can share my story.  And that is enough for now. 

Homebody?

For those who know me now, it might come as a surprise to know that I was once a shy, insecure child.  I didn't know how to initiate conversation.  I was intimidated by others, feeling they were so much better than me and feeling like they would just see me as stupid and strange.  In Jr High I was looked at as a snob, someone who did really well in school but didn't talk to those sitting next to me in class.

This has been one of my biggest struggles.  I remember crying to my mom, in about 5th grade that I wanted friends and didn't know how to do it.  I had siblings that were very outgoing, who made friends easily and always seemed to be going out and having fun.  Even my mom could talk to just about anyone, in any situation.  I dreamed of being different.  At that time, when I cried to my mom, I remember vividly her guidance to pray to the Lord; He wants to help us with any struggles we have.  She testified that God would help me.  So I prayed.  I prayed for help to make friends, to have true friends who saw me for me and still liked me.  I don't think I ever wanted popularity, but I just didn't want to be lonely. 

It took time, and many years of praying.  In high school I gained an amazing group of girl friends and had a lot of fun times.  At that time, I don't think I realized that my prayers had been answered, because high school is the time of dating, the time of boys.  And I didn't date.  A new weakness had shown up, that I didn't know how to have friendships with boys without them thinking I had a crush on them, even if I didn't.  So they would avoid me, I felt.  My prayers changed during those years, that I might be able to date. 

It took years of prayers, small changes here and there, and going away to college for me to start
emerging into who I am today.  I now feel very confident in any situation.  I talk to people in line at the grocery story.  I can go to a function on my own and feel comfortable finding another person to talk to.  I have close friends that I cherish.  I feel my prayers have been answered 10 fold.  I've learned that I'm an extrovert who draws strength and energy from my associations with others.  In my adult years I have become a very social person.  I love to show up at my friends doorsteps for a surprise visit.  I enjoy going out to lunch and spending a few hours in friend therapy.  I love talking on the phone to my sister and mom.  I enjoy travel and doing fun outdoor activities with my kids and husband. 

Now, because of my health, all that has changed.  I'm becoming a homebody and I'm having a hard time being okay with that.  It's hard to have the energy, to engage like I used to.  My head often hurts, and I can't think clearly.  Shopping is so draining that I avoid it as much as I can.  (Hurray for the blessing of Amazon!)  And this is difficult for me.  I understand there is beauty in simplicity of life.  But what do you do when the thing that gives you life, gives you satisfaction and feeds your soul, is no longer available to you in the way it used to be?  I've become a homebody and most days I'm not okay with it.  I miss who I once was, who I worked and prayed so hard to become.  I miss being able to get excited about traveling, about going on an outing.  Instead I worry about how I will feel and if I will ruin the day for my family because of my lack of energy, or how I will feel the day after.  I have to plan on days of rest and calm after a big outing.  I guess you could say the grieving process is cycling through right now.  I feel I have to keep rediscovering who I am.  Today, who am I? 

My Daughters Story, part 1

Our first child was born a highly sensitive child.  Ada (name changed) joined our family during a bit of a stressful time; we were living with my parents and building a house an hour away.  Very soon after being born, she started with the colic.  I remember many evenings of pacing the floor, each member of the family joining in turns to try and help calm her.  Nothing really worked until she was 4 months old and started to suck her thumb.  Hallelujah for self soothing!

What we experienced was all new to us, as we were new to this parenting thing.  Ada had the typical childhood, with learning experiences, good things happening, and normal struggles. But to her everything felt bigger.  For those individuals who are more sensitive, the depth of emotions are that much more extreme.  What she loved, she loved with a great depth and happiness, but she had major outbursts when she didn't get her way.  From a young age she told us she didn't want to be a part of our family when she wasn't happy with us.  Her emotions were all over the place and we didn't know how to direct her to work through the emotional highs and lows.  I don't know how many parenting books I read, how much I prayed for direction, how much advice I asked for from my mom.  And I felt I still failed her at every turn.  Yes, she told me often I was the worst mom in the world.  Yay me!  But, I was never going to give up on trying to give her the best I could.

When Ada was in 6th grade, we decided to put her in therapy.  We were at a loss to know how to cope with her outbursts, her defiance, her desire to not be a part of our family. (We understand now that she was emotionally manipulating us.  She would do what she could to hurt us because she was hurting in her own way.  Was she doing it on purpose?  Maybe not at first, but it was something that she used more and more often as she grew.)   I didn't make her do therapy alone.  I, too, started personal therapy.  I wanted her to see she wasn't a problem to be solved, but a child to be loved.  I wanted her to see she was never alone.  She was not "broken".  The truth is nothing is truly "wrong" with anyone in this world.  Everyone is exactly who they are supposed to be, unique in their own right.  Our job as fellow humans is to learn the best way to interact with each unique being.  I told Ada I needed help, that I needed the tools to help her.  I showed her I was vulnerable, and that it's okay to ask for help.  I had reached the end of my knowledge; I needed support and direction to know how to help her express her feelings in an appropriate way.  And I needed to understand my own feelings and sort through my own understanding of my role as a parent.

There is a scripture in our church that reads as follows:
D&C 68:25
And again, inasmuch as parents have children in Zion, or in any part of her stakes which are organized, that teach them not to understand the doctrine of repentance, faith in Christ the Son of the living God, and of baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of the hands, when eight years old, the sin be upon the heads of the parents.

As a young parent I totally missed the point of this scripture.  I always focused on the last part: I will be held accountable for all my children do.  If they don't follow the teaching, their sins become my sins.  Is that what it really says?  Nope, not in the least. I was telling myself I was personally responsible for the salvation of our children.  So when they do wrong, I felt I had done wrong.  I felt I had failed in my duty to them.  I was forgetting the many other scriptures that say we will be punished for our own sins, no one else's.  Or all the scriptures that talk about the Atonement of Christ, and how He is our only salvation. It took my going to therapy to reread this scripture in a different way.

Go back to the first line of the verse: We are responsible to Teach our children the doctrine.  They are agents unto themselves and they are responsible to govern themselves.  This also helps so much when your child takes on the victim mentality.  "It's your fault that I am the way I am.  You screwed up my life.  I can't change my behavior because you made me this way."  Ah, the victim mentality.  A post for a different day. 

If we are becoming like the Father, wouldn't it do well to see His roll as a parent?  He is not responsible for our use of agency to choose sin.  If He were, He wouldn't be worthy to be God.  Ponder that.  He teaches us and lets us experience agency and then He loves us and teaches us again.  How could I not see this before?!  I didn't not need to beat myself up.  I am giving every one of my children opportunities to learn the gospel, every day I am providing them with those opportunities.  I am doing everything I can to teach them the gospel of Christ.  As long as I am at peace with my Heavenly Father, in knowing I am doing my best, He will bless me for that.  And bless them.

You might wonder if therapy helped Ada at this time.  I believe some of it did.  I believe it was a start for her, the start of many belief changes that needed to be shifted in her mind.  She viewed things very different than we did.  She took correction very personally.  She has told us now that she thought much of our interactions where passive/aggressive, that we were trying to make her feel guilt and cause her to choose in a certain way.  So interesting.  Because we were not doing that in the least.  We really didn't care which way she chose in certain situations, such as which room to watch TV in, yet she felt she was going to make the wrong choice.  It is interesting to talk to her now and see how she interpreted things that were so different than the intention we had.  Isn't that like every parent/child relationship?  Actually, every relationship.  We have to see things differently, see where they are coming from.  We have to mature enough to realize our parents are human beings having a human experience as well.  That they did the very best they could with the life experience they came from and the trials they were enduring.  We have to forgive them for where we feel they failed and forgive ourselves for judging so harshly.

For these people, like Ada, who struggle with understanding the depth of their feelings, they have a difficult time knowing how to work through them.  They often turn to other coping mechanisms. Drugs, pornography, self harm, sexual relationships, etc.  They are trying to find an escape, a way to release the extreme emotions they themselves don't know how to deal with.  Little do they know that these coping mechanisms often exasperate the problem.  But Satan knows.  And I can just see him laughing and laughing as he grabs hold of these innocent children at a young age.

Through this whole time period, we were dealing with some of our own major trials.  As we attempted to work through them, Satan took the opportunity to attack our innocent child.  His goal: to destroy the family.  Any way he can.  In a book I am currently studying, there is a line that struck home:  "This vicious attack also affects the children who are often tempted and stolen away while the parents are incapacitated."  Satan's attacks are vicious.  He is cruel beyond belief.  He doesn't care that the parents are struggling to keep their heads above water, saying "oh, I'll give that family a rest until they can recover a bit."  On the contrary.  He laughs in our faces and takes down as many victims as he can get his hands on. 

But we had one thing on our side, a child on the other side of the veil who was fighting even harder to make sure we stayed an eternal family.  He had been born a few years after Ada, and had only lived an hour.  Because of our temple covenants, he was sealed to our family.  He did not want that eternal family to dissolve.  He was going to fight for it.  And fight he did.  I know without a doubt that he was with our family through this time, doing everything he was allowed to do, to fight off Satan's attacks and to be there to help Ada remember the love of family. 

I know this has been a lengthy post, most of it being about things I have learned later in this experience with being a parent to Ada.  More of her story will come, the part that is probably the most emotional for me to write.  But I wanted to give a foundation of where we have come from, and possibly a help in understanding for those who are currently struggling with young children.  Please forgive yourselves for your failings, because they really aren't failings.  The beauty of this life is that Heavenly Father can take ANY experience and bring goodness from it.  ANY.  Isn't that beautiful?