Getting Better

With a little tweak to my medication, continual prayers on our behalf, and one more month to settle into our new normal, I'm feeling a whole lot better these days. The physical symptoms of anxiety have passed. I've had energy and mindspace to add more to my to-do lists. 

A few things about this stage of my experience:

I feel a damper on my emotions. My kids' extra noise in the morning used to terrify me. Now those noises are just annoying in a normal way :) I feel kind of the same all day long, which I recognize is not entirely normal, but it's a bajillion times better than feeling scared all day. I'm taking an anti-depressant which manages 85% of the symptoms and a low dose mood stabilizer to cover the last 15%.

I no longer obsess about "when will this end?". I wasn't suicidal before, but I was absolutely ready for the pain and uncertainty to stop. I longed for the Second Coming. I thought about Christ's return or diseases or accidents that might cause me to die in the next couple years, and I took comfort thinking I'd only need to endure this a short while longer. I don't linger on those thoughts anymore. I am more prepared for the Second Coming than I have ever been, but I don't long for it. I don't want to die. I don't want to leave my family. I never did. I just wanted the pain and uncertainty to stop. Thankfully, miraculously, joyfully, it has stopped after only 3 months. That's so little time in retrospect. I am so, so grateful for that rapid relief. 

I feel lonely. That is NOT what I expected to feel when all my kids finally went to school. I figured I'd fill the school days with farming, triathlon training, and all the tasks I can do so much better without the kids around (grocery shopping!!). Instead, the anxiety forced me to slow down and try something different. It took everything I had just to take care of myself. As I've slowly healed and gained more function, I've become a little more lonely. I crave adult conversation. I crave being useful and productive. I've had to make a concerted effort to plan simple social engagements that meet my needs. I don't have my kids' needs forcing me to interact with other adults on a regular basis anymore.

I'm kinda terrified to be required to be somewhere at a specific time. I don't dare go back to work at the farm. I am almost to the point where I can go to a class at the gym. I can talk to people on the phone and I can go for a walk with a friend, but only for the last few weeks. If it involves the kids' needs, I have no terror. Parent/Teacher Conferences were no big deal. Getting kids to birthday parties and activities? No problem. It's only when I'm trying to do something for ME that I get all scared...it's like I can't bear to be unavailable when/if my kids need me...they've been my nearly constant companions for 18 months, relying on me for physical, emotional, and social support on THEIR schedule. I may be a little traumatized by that. I may have given over too much of myself to them during the pandemic.

I'm exploring. I've been thinking a lot the last couple weeks about how I can use my skills to help other people. I considered taking on the thankless and life-sustaining jobs of a home health aide or pharmacy technician. I scanned job openings at my kids' schools for something I might be able to take on...lunch aide, substitute teacher, special ed specialist, classroom aide. The job thing scares me, though, because I will lose flexibility with my schedule. I will NEED to be there as scheduled, regardless of sick kids or doctor's appointments or family emergencies. I'm not there yet in my recovery. I hope to get there eventually. I started looking up local volunteer opportunities. That was a good idea. I've sent out a few feelers about becoming a Senior Transport driver or Meals on Wheels delivery guy. It's meaningful work, lots of notice ahead of time, and I only take on as many hours as I want to :)

So, yes, things have gotten better. Much better. I am hopeful for even more progress, while utterly grateful for where I am right now.

James is 9!

James turned 9 years old last weekend, and what a weekend of celebration it was! 

We started Thursday evening with a Glowing Kickball event for his Retro Club (i.e. the 7 boys in his church class and their moms). As it got dark, we donned glow necklaces and played kickball with LED-lit cones and a lit up soccer ball. We played moms against kids and didn't keep score. Man, these ladies can play!

Friday was the kids' monthly sleepover at Erin's house! Always, always, always a big hit with my kids. 

Saturday, sandwiched between sessions of General Conference, we invited all those 8-9 year old boys back to our house WITHOUT their moms for an all-out birthday party. James planned it out: kickball, wrestling, chase, wagon races, spear throwing, banana pudding and loads of candy. The only thing we didn't get around to was kickball 'cuz we just ran out of time :( His friends gave him Lego sets, toys that fly, books with invisible ink, and art supplies.

Saturday evening, Erin took James to see Addams Family 2 in the actual, for real, no kidding movie theater. Yes, it still exists after 18 months of Covid. He was over the moon.

Sunday was James' family birthday party. He chose spaghetti and meatballs for his special meal. He opened presents from us and his siblings, thrilled with all of it. Robert got him a Nerf gun and 200 foam bullets. Matthew made him a very sweet card. Alex gave him a pile of Doritos/Cheetos bags and candy. Bobby and I gave him a super fuzzy body pillow (for his bed nest) and the latest Guinness Book of World Records. We were taking bets on how long before the Nerf gun would end up in time out. It's still in play 4 days later, so we all lost. Dang!

What is James like these days?

Hmmmmm. He told me last night that he likes to say mean things to rile up his brothers because he likes that power. When someone recently asked him what he was in to, he replied along the lines of "black, blood, weapons, and evil guys." So, at the moment, he likes to project the image of a tough guy who doesn't really care about others. And what we all know about tough exteriors is that they're usually built to protect something quite vulnerable. 

What James REALLY is: a quiet, sensitive, observant kid who thinks deeply about the world around him. He's the kid trying to wrap his mind around "What would it be like to be an inanimate object?!" He believes in God and Jesus Christ. He prays honestly and sincerely for himself and others. He often uses his own hard-earned cash to buy things for others because he likes to see them happy. He wants to grow up and live in a house in the woods with a super soft medium-sized dog that he can carry in his arms. He likes to be comfortable and feel safe in his nests. He's responsible at school, keeping rules and finishing assignments early so he can flip the page over and draw elaborate fight scenes on the back. He loves to laugh. He loves playing out hilarious stories with Robert and Matthew. He makes his own lunch for school without complaint. He consistently and independently fulfills his responsibilities at home in a timely and mature manner, apologizing quickly when he forgets to do something. He helped Alex paint his room and then asked if he could paint a mural on his own bedroom wall. Robert helped him figure out which colors he wanted, I picked up the supplies, and James took a couple days to complete this scene:

It's him and his dream house when he's an adult. He did it all on his own, working quietly and happily on the project. James loves a good project. He doesn't like piano lessons, of course, but he does like some of the songs he's learned to play. He doesn't like a lot of attention from people outside of his family, either, but he cheerfully offered to play the missionaries a song on the piano last week. He often asks if I'll go on a "cul-de-sac walk" or a "block walk" with him. Those are the names of two routes we often take with the kids. He'll go barefoot and talk to me the entire time about his questions and funny scenarios he's imagined. He's proud of the fact that he's gone on dozens of these block walks barefoot and never complained once of a foot injury, even though he has injured his feet a few times. He sees himself as strong and capable, independent, and not very fussy about things. He tries to set himself apart from his siblings, defining himself as not like them. The problem with defining yourself as "not" something else is that you still don't really know what you ARE. I've offered all sorts of activities and hobbies and interests that James might want to claim as his own, separate from his siblings before and after him, but he just says, "Nah, I don't want more stuff to do or learn." He's content, for now, to just be. That's why I tend to encourage anything he suggests of his own accord (like Glowing Kickball and painting a mural on his bedroom wall!). 

Happy Birthday, James! What a kid you've become. You're strong, you're wise, and you're loved. Always, always loved.

5 Days

I'm pretty superstitious, and I know things can change at any moment, so I'm not going to call this a "pattern" per se (e.g. past performance is no guarantee of future returns), but I can say with confidence that the last 5 days have been much less miserable for me anxiety-wise and physical symptoms-wise.

Huzzah!

I'm just going to keep on doing what I'm doing and appreciate the good days when they come.

Monday

Monday was a low point for me. It marked 6 weeks since my anxiety episode started. 6 weeks since I had restarted the anti-anxiety meds. When you start anxiety/depression meds, they caution you that you may see improvements after a couple weeks but the medicine doesn't reach full potency until 4-6 weeks. I was better than week 1, but still needing to spend hours on the couch each day drifting in and out of consciousness to deal with the scary anxious thoughts and gut sickness. Was this the new norm for the rest of my life?!

I had to cry.

I called my mom.

I sobbed and sobbed out loud to her. I poured out all my fears and frustration. 

She listened, she loved, she reassured, she bore testimony, and she reignited hope that things will indeed change. Things will get better. 

I still felt anxious and my gut still hated me, but there was hope again.

I hung up with my mom and sobbed to Bobby, too. I told him my scary anxious thoughts and he reassured me that they were NOT consistent with reality. A little more hope. 

I sobbed on my bed all alone. I wanted to wail and cry out loud. I've never felt that before. I prayed silently. Then I remembered something that my mother-in-law had written to Alex. She said, "God can bless you in other ways. He can send a guardian angel to be near you in times of trouble. Who would he send? Probably a relative who understands your problems. I have felt the strength of people who love me who have died. They can bring peace to your heart and help you make wise decisions." I prayed for a guardian angel to help me. Someone came. I felt them.

I stopped crying. I could think clearly enough to form a plan: I would call my doctor to re-assess my meds, I would find a way to serve other people while hurting on the couch, and I wouldn't give up hope. 

Tuesday, I felt a little better. Still anxious, still physically miserable, but I was able to to run errands and do family history research while on the couch. I met with my doctor. He prescribed an additional med in a very low dose to help further with the anxiety. 

Wednesday, today, I feel better than I have in a long while. I can eat more normally. The obsessive thoughts are quieter and easier to ignore. I have energy to do more than the bare minimum. 

I'm okay.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I'm okay right now. Heavenly Father is aware of me. He loves me. I have a loving, supportive family and competent medical professionals on my side. This will get better.

Introducing Alex

Dear family and friends,

Eight weeks ago, Alice got her ears pierced and selected a spiffy new haircut for her soon-to-begin high school adventure. A couple weeks later, she let us know that she hasn't felt comfortable in her body for some time. Her female body feels foreign and wrong (gender dysphoria) and she wants to live here on out as a male. With those feelings in mind, she has carefully and respectfully asked that people call her Alex from now on. She would also prefer the pronouns he/him/his instead of she/her/hers, so I will use those pronouns to refer to him on this blog starting now. This news was a considerable shock to us, but his feelings are real, and we are working to make him more comfortable in his skin.

I'd like you to meet Alex.

 

We love Alex. He's an important part of our family and our lives. The months before he came out to us were kinda dark. He isolated himself. He experienced increased depression and anxiety. Now that he's out and feels safe at home, we have our extroverted, hilarious, warm, and clever child back in our lives. I love him so much*. 

It's an ongoing adjustment for all of us** but Alex doesn't mind answering questions about his transgender feelings. I don't mind answering questions, either. I don't have all the answers, but I find it's much easier to deal with stressful changes in life when I'm open about it and actively learning. Alex has given me permission to share this information on the blog.

Alex is not Alice, but they have a lot in common. Alex is obsessed with the Marvel Cinematic Universe and sketch comedy and Funko Pops. He's doing well in 9th grade so far, enjoying a wide variety of classes and extracurricular activities. He auditioned for A Cappella Choir and got in. He auditioned for the fall musical and got a speaking part, which is apparently awesome for a freshman (someone in theater had to tell me that. I'm TOTALLY new to all this drama/theater/performance stuff!). He plays flute, loves reading and creative writing, and plans to be an actor. He's also taking a few parenting and child development classes this year because he's so darn good at nurturing kids and just plain loves it. 

When trans kids take on a new name, the old name is referred to as their "dead name". In some ways, the Alice I've known for 14 years is dead. The future I imagined for her is certainly gone. Feelings of grief and loss are normal. To Alex, he's finally becoming his true self and this "Alice" is a foreign stranger. A completely different person. 

I want to share something personal here. Alex's transition reminded me of the day after Alice was born. I had carried this baby for nine months, feeling her move and kick and squirm, having imagined conversations with her, envisioning her as this perfectly content little friend in my belly who understood me and laughed at all my jokes. Bobby and I playfully called her Barriga (pronounced buh-HEE-ga, which is Portuguese for "belly"). The day after Alice was born, I lost Barriga. I had a beautiful, bright little baby Alice that I loved more fiercely than I had ever loved anyone or anything before, but my wriggly and content constant companion was gone. I loved them both. I mourned the loss of Barriga and I cried for her. Just like I cry for Alice now. Seeing Alice's name and old pictures reminds me that I've lost a daughter. It's painful. And while the baby I carried and the daughter I nurtured and the teenager I adore are in reality the same person, my dreams and visions and expectations for each of them have had to change. I mourn the loss of those dreams and expectations. 

And just as I came to develop a new, powerful, and fierce love for Alice, I can feel a deep, intense, and eternal love for Alex. My hopes and dreams for him do not diminish my love for Alice. Nor do my hopes and dreams for Alice diminish my love for Alex. I love them both. They are both my children.

Alex is upbeat and hopeful for the future. He has supportive friends, family, and mentors. I'm hopeful for the future, too. I understand if Alex's news comes as a shock to you. I totally get it if you need time to process this. And I understand if it makes you uncomfortable. That's okay. This hasn't been particularly comfortable for any of us, especially Alex, but we're working on it together. One day at a time. If you'd like to reach out to him or me with questions, please do. Your questions help me process and understand my own feelings better :) You can contact me via email or text. I'll respond.

Much love,

Susan

 

 

*understatement of the year. 

**another remarkable understatement. We've cried, we've mourned, we've learned a whole new vocabulary, we've laughed, we've asked questions and had long, frank discussions, we've sought priesthood blessings, we've seen miracles and felt the tender mercies of the Lord, we've seen an outpouring of love from local friends and church leaders, we've connected with trans therapists and support groups, we've come a long way in 6 weeks, and we continue to take this one day at a time.