Will You Be My Friend?

I remember in elementary school writing notes to people that looked something like this: "do you like me? Circle Yes or No"
Why isn't it this easy now? Sometimes I would like to send a note like that. But, it's just not that easy. In kindergarten if you want to play with someone, you just do. Or maybe it started with borrowing a crayon or having to sit at the same table. Whatever the reason you became friends with your kindergarten friends, it likely was a lot less complicated than it is to make a friend now you're an adult. Right?
I am pretty shy. I don't talk to people I don't know very often. There are people I would love to claim as my friends, but I only see them at church and hardly say more than a few sentences in passing. So, how do I know that they would consider me a friend? Am I truly friends with all of my Facebook friends? Probably not.
I have a friends who I used to be closer to, but I don't feel as comfortable with them as I once was. I have other friends who I am not close to, but I long to be. I feel lonely at times, and wish I had a good friend that I could call. I wish I had a friend who would just drop by and see how I was doing. Someone who would feel at home in my home. I want a friend who I could count on.
The point is, I'm looking at it backwards. If I want a good friend, I need to be one! I need to figure out what I can do to help someone out. I need to love someone just for being who she is, not what I want her to be. I need to call her and see how she is doing, or stop by her house just to talk.
I think I'm so afraid of rejection, that I don't bother trying. Sure, I'm kind to those around me, and I help out when I'm asked. But, how many true friends have you made by being asked to help them by the Relief Society? How many true friends do you have where they are the only ones doing the calling, stopping by, checking in, etc.?
I challenge you and myself that if you are lonely, call someone else who might be lonely too. Take some cookies or a loaf of bread, or a note, or anything you can think of over to someone you think might need it. Keep a smile on your face. Tell people by the way you act that you are a good friend. Don't complain on facebook about everything and forget to tell about the good things. Honestly, who wants a friend who only complains? Be the friend that you have always wanted. You don't have to have everything in common. Celebrate your differences. If you don't have a lot to talk about at first, it is okay!
I am doing a program for my English class that has me Skype with a girl from Mexico who is learning English. The first time was really awkward. We had very little to say. She didn't understand a lot of what I would say. It was a little frustrating. The next week, things went better, and we took up the half hour much more easily. Now I'm excited for our next meeting. I'm starting to get to know her, and I enjoy learning about her.
So, this week, I'm going to invite someone over, and I'm going to take something over to someone else. What are you going to do to be a better friend?

The "D" Word

I have been avoiding this post, because there is just so much to write. It's not just that; this is a very difficult subject for me to post about, considering all that I've been through, and that I still deal with it daily. The subject is depression. The reason I titled it "The "D" Word" is because it's a subject that is, well, difficult to discuss, for lack of better words. Although it's much better than it used to be, I think that depression is still viewed by many to be a weakness. Wow, it's taken me about a half hour just to write this paragraph. . . .the reason I've been struggling to write this. 

Let's start at the beginning. When I was about 12, I noticed that I didn't enjoy things that I used to, like playing football with my friends in their front yard. I figured it was just the fact that I was growing up, and that was childish.  I also became a lot more secluded and anti-social. Once again, I was growing up, and things were a little bit confusing. 

Down the road a couple of years, I wasn't eating as well, and I had headaches all the time. I also had trouble sleeping. The headaches got so bad that I ended up getting an MRI, thinking that maybe I had some kind of brain tumor or something. When I got the results that nothing was wrong, I decided to just pretend I didn't have headaches anymore. I realized that they were mostly from not eating lunch every day, so they got better. But, things weren't great. I got obsessed with things and was never happy enough with what I had. 

Fast forward to high school. I had a best friend who told me that she didn't like to hang out with me anymore, because I wasn't ever happy. It was at that point that I knew she was right, but was so mad at her for telling me that I wasn't happy enough for her. 

So, if I'm not happy enough, how do I change that? Unfortunately, I never really figured that out. However, I did get pretty darn good at faking it. I started smiling more, even though I didn't feel like it. I went out with friends even when I didn't feel like it. I wish I could say that it solved my problem. I wish I could say that it was mind over matter and that I "smiled" my way out of my depression. There were so many times that I heard "pray" or "do what's right" and that it would all be okay. Well, it wasn't okay, and I didn't know how to tell anyone else why or how it wasn't okay. I didn't know how to tell anyone, especially my parents, that I didn't know how to be happy. 

One night I had a break down, and I told one of my friends. It was the first time I had really admitted to myself or anyone else that I thought I had depression. But, I still didn't know what to do about it. So, I went on with my life. I just kept on living my life as before. Don't get me wrong, I was happy sometimes, and I had fun times, but my happiness often was contingent on how things were going with friends, or whether I had a boyfriend, or how difficult/easy my school work was. I found a lot of people and things to blame my unhappiness on. I also wasn't getting enough sleep, which didn't help things at all.

I learned to live with my depression. I thought that it was just who I was and there was nothing to be done about it. When I met my husband and marriage was coming up, I was happy. I thought that this is what I had been waiting for. Now I could be happy. Then I started having panic attacks. I was stressed about getting married, after all, to me, marriage is a one-time thing. And it doesn't just last "'till death do you part." For me, marriage is eternal, and this is not something I wanted to mess up. So, even though I found a wonderful man, and I was sure he was the man that I should marry, I had a few panic attacks along the way. I was only 18, and my parents didn't seem thrilled about my choice, so it would have made it relatively easy to back out. But, I didn't. And 10 years later, I am so happy that I made the right choice. 

After we were married, I quickly got pregnant with our first child. We were thrilled. Although my pregnancy wasn't easy, I couldn't complain. I knew too many women who had it far worse than I did. It was after the baby was born that it really got bad. 

I had major postpartum depression. I didn't ever admit it to anyone else, because I was supposed to be so excited about my new baby and how precious he was. I wasn't supposed to feel like I wished I had never had him. I didn't want to be a mom. I could barely get up and get dressed every day. Now I was in charge of this little person, who I loved so much, but sometimes my brain didn't correspond with my heart. Of course, after a few months it got better, and I just learned to deal with the times when it wasn't better.

Then I had a second child. Once again, I had postpartum depression, but I was much more prepared for the demands of a new baby, and things seemed to go better. However, when he was just a few months old, my two-year-old was driving me crazy, hubby and I were both going to school, and I found myself yelling at the kids a lot. 

A few months later, and hubby wasn't doing too well with his job, so he started looking for something new. He told me he was going to go to the military recruiting office. I thought he was crazy. What happened when he came back was even more crazy. He actually wanted to join the Army. At first it was just the reserves or maybe the national guard, but after a day or so, he wanted to join as an active duty soldier. Two weeks later he was off to Basic Training. It was a whirlwind few weeks, but we felt like it was the right decision, so there we were. 

This is when things really started to change. We hadn't been away from each other for more than a couple of days for the four years we had known each other. Suddenly he was gone and we couldn't even talk to him except for a few minutes once a week. 

We made it through basic training and went to graduation and saw each other for a day or two. After that, it just made it harder to go the next 7 or 8 weeks of AIT and jump school. I didn't leave the house much during that time. We got ready to move and we were all packed up. We headed to Georgia to pick daddy up and move to Fort Bragg, our first duty station. But, hubby got hurt at jump school, and while we were there, he got new orders. He was headed to Korea. . . .unaccompanied.

After a few weeks at my parents home (since we were now homeless), hubby left for Korea. We stayed and I got deeper into my depression than ever before. Finally, I decided that I needed to do something about it. I went to the doctor and got started on medication. It helped, but I still spent a lot of nights up late crying, and lots of days in bed. I eventually got to go to Korea to be with hubby. But, once I got there, instead of getting better, things got worse. At this point, we had been living apart for nearly a year and a half. We had a lot of things to get used to, and at that point, I decided to go off of my medication, because I didn't feel like it was working and it had some strange side effects. 

That is about the time the hardest thing I've ever been through happened. I got pregnant with our third child, but I didn't feel like I was ready to have another baby. I had just gotten used to the idea when I had a miscarriage. For the next few weeks, I spent most of my nights crying myself to sleep. I had a four-year-old and a two-year-old who often took care of themselves while I stayed in bed. There were times when I didn't want to live anymore. I thought of killing myself. I just couldn't. I knew I had family who loved me, and I couldn't do that to them. I honestly don't know how long this went on before I got help, but it seemed like an eternity. I went to a psychiatrist for the first time, and started on a new medication. After less than a week, I felt better than I had in years. I didn't even realize how bad it was until it started getting better. I suddenly had more energy than I had since I was twelve. I wanted to do things. I was excited about life. 

Fast forward a little while. I got pregnant again, and I didn't want to be on medication when she was born, so I went off of it in my third trimester. Let me tell you, being pregnant and not having my depression medication was not an easy thing to do, but I managed.

After the baby was born, I went back on the medication. I ran out of meds at one point and decided to try going without and see how I would do.

To make a long story short. . . well, shorter . . . I went back and forth being on and off meds for the next few years. I was told by my doctor that I would probably always have to be on medication, considering my history. I tried different things to help, like exercise, essential oils, etc., and I would do really well for a few months, then I would fall back into old patterns of being tired all the time and not wanting to do things with my family and friends. 

The hardest part about writing this post is that somewhat recently, I realized (actually, it was more of a revelation from the Spirit) that I would deal with depression for the rest of my life. Naturally, that was depressing itself. I still haven't fully accepted it. I always hoped that there was some way to beat it; that someday, it just wouldn't be there anymore. However, I have come to realize that I can help others. This was the main reason I started this blog. I didn't want the blog to be entirely about depression or mental illness, but it was always in the plan to write about it. If I can help someone else feel better, or discover something about themselves, or even just make them think, that is why I write.

In conclusion, I want to say that depression is not something to be ashamed of. It doesn't just happen to those who make bad decisions or who are unrighteous. If you have depression, it doesn't mean that you've done something wrong. It also can't be cured by reading your scriptures and praying more, however those things do make it easier to cope with. If you or your loved one had diabetes, cancer, or some other disease, would you tell them that they aren't being righteous enough? No, you would tell them to go to the doctor. You would tell them to take their medications.  Of course, in any of these situations prayer can help, but you can't pray away every difficult situation.

My point wasn't to write a sob story to make you feel bad for me. Although, I admit that part of it was selfish. I haven't ever said or written all of this. It's kind of liberating to get it all out. Writing it all out reminded me that I have had good times before, and it's possible to have them again, and it's also possible to get through the tough times. I also have started to notice the signs of the depression getting bad before it gets so bad that I can't do anything about it.

In conclusion, I just wanted you to know that  I've done it before, and can do it again.

So can you! So can you!!!!

Music at Christmas

It's been over a month since my last post. I have so many things I want to post, but sometimes I just don't know how to put the thoughts into words. Actually, I do, but I don't have the time to do it. With school, the holidays, and four kids, I've been extremely busy. Aside from the excuses, I need to write now!
Yesterday at church we had our Christmas program. Every year this and the primary program are my very favorite weeks to go to church. I love music. Usually, I am in the choir, and I participate in the program. This year I was not. I got to sit and listen and join in on the congregational hymns. It was one of the best programs I've ever been to. The ward choir did an amazing job and they sang beautiful music. The testimonies that were spoken and sung were so strong that it was all I could do to keep from crying. It was a great reminder to me how the Spirit of the Lord speaks to me through music. I felt as if I was learning of the atonement and the sacrifice of Christ for the first time, even if it was Christmas music. It doesn't matter if the choir didn't sound like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They sung with the spirit and it sounded as if there were angels singing with them.
I am so grateful for music in my life. I grew up with music being important, and now I feel empty without it. I recently joined the institute choir, and it has brought so much joy to my life. I also have been playing the piano more. With four kids, it's often difficult to find time to do anything but take care of them and clean, but I feel so much more complete when I incorporate music into my life.
I hope this finds you well, and that all of you remember the life and sacrifice of the Savior. He died for me. He died for you. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

God Gives Us What We Need

This was not my intended post, but sometimes I just have to go with the flow. Someday I hope I can post what I originally intended.

Sometimes I wish my life was more like it was when I lived in Korea. At this time, I also happened to be at my lowest. Weird, I know, but let me explain.

I had the most amazing best friend. I could talk to her about anything - and I mean anything. She helped me with dishes, laundry, and cleaning. She helped with my boys, and let me cook for her, even though she was an excellent cook herself. We were practically inseparable.

I also had an amazing Branch in the Church. It was so tiny, that I didn't feel lost. I actually felt needed and important. My Relief Society President was like a second mother. I learned how to knit from her, and enjoyed spending every Wednesday (I think it was Wednesday) afternoon chatting and knitting with her and my best friend.

The list could go on of all the amazing things I had in my life at this time.

As I said, this was when I was at my lowest. Strange, considering all of the wonderful people I had supporting me and the amazing experience I had of living in another country. I was unhappy. That's an understatement. I was extremely depressed. At times, suicidal. I was ashamed of it. I actually still struggle with feeling shame about it.

I don't have many friends, and very few close friends. I only have a couple of friends that live close by, but I don't feel as close to them as I'd like. I hardly do anything with any of them. Perhaps it's that we have kids and lives, and in Korea, there really wasn't much to do. My friend didn't have kids or a job, so it was easier for her to have free time to just come hang out with me.

Whatever the reason, I feel lonely here like I never really did there. I missed my family and I missed the good ol' USA, but it was different.

However, I don't need the things and the people now like I did then. Without all of those people and situations, I wouldn't have survived that year in Korea. My children, my husband, my friends -they were all pulling/pushing me along, because I couldn't do it myself.

So, whenever I miss that intimacy with a friend, or that time that I had in Korea and the freedoms to do whatever I wanted whenever I felt like doing it, I try to acknowledge that it's because I needed it then. I don't need it now. And I'm extremely grateful for that. I am doing so much better than I was four years ago, so I don't need all the extra help.

Heavenly Father knows our needs. He lets us struggle to learn and grow, but he also sends help. He sent me an angel in the form of a best friend, and I am so grateful to Him for that.

Love At Home

This is going to be a short post. This is something I've been thinking about for quite awhile, but I just don't have a lot to say about it.
Have you ever noticed that you treat other people better than you treat your family members? Do you get your feelings hurt by your family members much more easily than by someone else?
I have noticed it in my family. When someone bumps into me at the store, I brush it off and tell them not to worry about it. When my kids run into me, I get mad at them and tell them they need to pay attention to what they're doing. If I found out that someone said something about me behind my back, it might bother me, but I would get over it fairly quickly. If the same thing happened but it was a family member, I would be devastated. Maybe it's because there is greater love and sense if devotion between family members. But, regardless of the reasons, I have felt that I need to treat my family better. They are the best people in the world, and I love them more than anything. So, why don't I treat them that way?
My challenge for this week is to treat my family members better; to let them know by my actions that they really are the loves of my life.

Small Acts of Service

There have been a lot of times that I have thought, or been prompted to do something for someone. Usually it's something simple, like offer to bring dinner over, or help someone clean up their house, or maybe just take a plate of cookies over to someone.
Well, usually I don't do it. I want to, but I feel dumb about it. Or I have the intention, but just don't follow through because I'm busy or I forget.
Today, I decided to take some cookies to a member of my ward who had mentioned to me that she was wanting cookies, but that she didn't really like baking. I don't know her well, so I was hesitant. But, I did it anyway.
Her cute little girls were so excited, and kept asking if they could have a cookie now. It made my day. I was glad to see her for a few seconds.
Later, I got a message saying thanks and that it made her day.
Who knew that something so small could cause so much joy... For me and for her.
I am going to strive to follow those promptings to do little things, so that when it's really important, I can receive the promptings to do bigger things, and I will have the courage and faith to follow them.

Being an Example

I had another post almost ready to post, when I got a phone call from my hubby this morning telling me about an experience he had with our 8-year-old son last night.
They were on their way home from scouts last night and they had the radio on a country station and the song "Boys 'Round Here" by Blake Shelton was playing. P says to Dad, "Dad, why do you listen to this, when it talks about stuff that you don't do?" (If you are unfamiliar with the song, it talks about drinking beer and spitting tobacco, etc.) Hubby asked him what he was talking about to see what things he had heard in the song. P told him about the drinking beer and spitting. Much to my surprise he actually DOES listen. :) Daddy told him that he really just likes the music and the beat. Which, in all honesty, is true, but also an excuse.
How often do I make excuses about the music I listen to, or the movies or TV I watch, saying to myself that "it's not like I'm going to DO any of those things." Aren't we taught that we should avoid these types of entertainment? In the For the Strength of Youth book it says "Choose wisely when using media because whatever you read, listen to, or look at has an effect on you. Select only media that uplifts you." Also, from the 13th Article of Faith  "if there's anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report, or praiseworthy, we seek after these things." Somehow I doubt that a song about going to the bar and drinking beer, and chewing up tobacco and spitting falls into that category. But, how many other things that aren't virtuous, lovely, or of good report, or praiseworthy do I do??

Too many.

I'm so grateful for the example of my son. He reminds me of the great responsibility I have to teach my children and for me to be examples to them. Although I'm grateful that he was an example to my husband and to me, it should be the other way around!
I have just started an Institute of Religion class on the Book of Mormon and have already started to see a change in myself and my family because I am studying the Book of Mormon, and I am striving more fully to keep the commandments. In fact, the past week or so, I was already thinking about how my choice of media might not be what it should be. On the weekend, hubby asked me to change the song that we were listening to, and another time I asked him to turn the TV off. It's a start. And that's all Heavenly Father expects me to do. Start. And keep trying. And repent when I slip up. So, thanks to little P, I'm striving even harder to do that.

Because I should be their example!