April 2, 2011

Today has taken me back in time to a day a little over two years ago, April 2, 2011. I remember that day vividly because it was one of the happiest days of my life. I remember thinking that day that life really couldn't get any better. This picture was taken that day, and I was happy, happy, happy.
It was the day of the very first Love Modesto I ever attended. A small group of us from Church in the Park made up our own project last minute and we drove around town in the CITP truck delivering ice cold water to strangers. Then we got some tacos from Taco Bell and delivered them to some of the homeless in town. I had developed two new friendships that were tighter than any friendships I had ever had and was certain they would be friends for life. I was happy, so happy! I would wake up every morning SO excited to be alive! I couldn't wait to see my friends, to volunteer at the park, to, well, live! I had recently lost fifty pounds. I looked good. I felt good. The world was my oyster. I felt like a kid again and was on top of the world. Little did I know what was lying in store for me.
Fast-forward two years to today, April 27, 2013. Love Modesto has come around again, a day I look forward to every year. There is just something about thousands of people coming together to love on their city that makes me smile. Today, though, it's bringing with it some painful memories.
Two years and twenty-five days later, I'm twenty pounds heavier and two boobs and a head of hair lighter. Since that blessed, amazing, joy-filled day two years ago, I have lost those two "forever" friends (and several more). I have attempted suicide once and been in the psych ward twice. I have been hospitalized for seizures we thought might be a brain tumor and turned out to be psychosomatic (we think. We still don't know for sure what caused them).  I have lost my ability to walk and then regained it. I have been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder with Reoccurring Episodes, and then stage 2 Breast Cancer. I have had two major surgeries and a minor one and three rounds of chemo. A "millionaire benefactor" for CITP turned out to be a con-artist and swindled several of our friends out of thousands of dollars and left many of our dreams for CITP shattered into pieces. Jason's best friend died. Someone very dear to us was raped. Jason's grandma and grandpa died. Jason's job has been a mess of law suits, counter-suits, slander and uncertainty. I nearly lost my marriage. I was kicked out of the ministry that I loved with all my heart. James was hospitalized for pneumonia a couple times. 
On that day a little over two years ago, I had no idea, no premonition of the things to come. Sometimes I think I would love to know what the future holds. Today, I am thankful that I had no idea, because there is no way on earth I would have been able to handle the load of knowing what was just beyond the corner for me.
It is my natural tendency to remember the excruciating pain of the last two years that lingers on into today and oftentimes I want to sit there, to dwell in it, to grieve over it and scream about it, but I'm trying, today, to remember what else happened during the last two years.
My dad, whom I thought was my harshest critic and whose approval I have sought my whole life, has been one of my strongest supporters and has made his love and acceptance known on multiple occasions over the last two years. My husband has shown me the true meaning of unconditional love and my marriage has been restored. I have learned in a way that can only come from hands-on experience what grace really means. I have developed a love for and understanding of the mentally ill that I never had before. We have moved from an apartment into a house that we love and that is truly a home for us. We have been brought to a church that displays love in action. My children are thriving in a great school. I have hugged and loved on hundreds of homeless people and been blessed beyond measure for it. I have learned SO much about friendships, boundaries, and self-respect. I have made new friends from various areas of life, people I never would have met had I not had to go through the storms of life. I have been blessed by several incredible doctors, decent insurance and a new chance at life.
I'm not going to claim that I am happy today because I'm not. I feel tired, and old, and emotionally, physically and spiritually scarred. I'm not going to claim that if I had to do it all over again, I would go through everything that I've been through to be where I am today because I wouldn't. I don't know if I will ever get to that point. I would love to think so, but I'm not there today. I miss April 2, 2011. I miss that happy-go-lucky, ecstatic-to-be-alive girl. If I could go back in time to that day, I would. I feel like I've aged decades over the last two years and I am tired to the core of my being. My body's tired. My mind is tired. My heart is tired. My spirit is tired. I miss the naivety of the me of two years ago. I miss the heart that took people at face value and believed every word they said. I miss the me that woke up every morning excited to see the world. I don't know if that person will ever be back. I hope so. I pray so.
I started this blog posting hoping I could turn it into one of those "life was super hard, but it was all worth it" Chicken Soup for the Soul types of posts, but I just can't. Earlier this week, however, I was reminded of are lyrics of a Petra song. A friend and I were texting about life and I had mentioned that I really missed working with the homeless and didn't understand why God had benched me at this stage of my life. When he got my text, the Petra song "No Doubt" was playing on his iphone. The irony of that was not lost on either of us. It was one of those total God moments and so, as I walk down memory lane of the last two years for the thousandth time, wondering if the pain of it all will ever go away, I play this song, and hope.

No Doubt, by Petra

(Verse 1)
There are times when you fell like you can't go on
There are times when you fell like giving in
And there are times when you feel like you can't try anymore
There are times of trouble in believing
This test of your faith will last
As long as it takes to pass
Till you have no more doubt you'll endure
And you faith will emerge true and pure

(Chorus)
No doubt it'll be alright
With God it'll all work together for good
No doubt in the end it will be understood
No doubt it'll all work out
With faith He can move any mountain for us
No doubt in the power of Jesus
And after all is done we find out
All we really need to have is no doubt

(Verse 2)
There's a time to take a reckless leap of faith
There's a time to be cautious and wait
And there's a way of learning from the past
That this time of trouble won't last
And sometimes we want to think we know
The ways He will choose to make us grow
But it's never the way of our choosing
And we can't always see what He's using

(Repeat chorus)

There will be winters in the seasons of our soul
With a cold and bitter wind that chills our lives
But our faith can be building a fire
That will warm us till spring time arrives

(Repeat chorus)

Chemo Crew, Pizza and Anti-depressants

I have so much I want to write about today, I'm not even sure yet what this post will be about! Today has been so full of blessings. I started off the morning with a phone call from Bridgette Eilers, of the Chemo Crew. Bridgette is an ovarian cancer survivor who started a non-profit to help cancer patients in Stanislaus County. The Chemo Crew provides services like grocery shopping, house cleaning, lawn care, help finding free resources, one-on-one support, etc. To find out more about them, you can go to their website. I had called them a couple days ago and Bridgette was returning my call. She sounded like such a sweet lady. I can't wait to meet her in person! I found out that she has three children of her own, ages 6, 7 and 9. She will be dropping me off at my chemo appointment on Wednesday and then coming back later to sit with me for awhile and then take me home. I found out last night that Jason is going to be out of town on Wednesday all day, so having someone who can take me to and from chemo was a huge relief! I'm really excited to talk to Bridgette and find out ways that I can help out with Chemo Crew too. It's really hard for me to sit around and do nothing of value for weeks on end. Yes, I know healing from cancer is valuable, but it's not tangible right now, and feels...I don't know...boring? inconsequential? I only get one life. I don't want to sleep and puke it away. I know I can't do much right now, but maybe on my good weeks I could at least sit with chemo patients, or assemble kits, or something. One of the hardest parts about this cancer journey for me has been the lack of social contact, so I welcome any chance I have to be around other people and especially to be on the giving side of things rather than the receiving side every now and again.
After I got off the phone with Bridgette, my friend Jenni and her daughter Zoe came by, bringing us a pizza from Costco to help with dinner on those not so great days. Thank you so much, Jenni! What a thoughtful gesture!
After they left, I headed to my appointment with my psychiatrist, whom I absolutely LOVE, by the way. If you or someone you know is in need of a great psychiatrist, I highly recommend Dr. Hetnal in Modesto. 
I asked him today if I would be on my medication (Paxil) for life, or if it was a short term thing. I found his reaction kind of amusing. He looked at me with somewhat of a startled look, then said that he was really sorry, but that I would be on medications for life. He then corrected himself and said: "Well, you are the patient. You make your own treatment decisions, but you won't ever get a recommendation to go off your medications from me!" He turned my file over and read off the back: "Major Depressive Disorder with Re-occurring Episodes. No. You will need your medications for life. We won't mess around with that." He seemed apologetic about my need for lifetime meds, but to be honest, to me, it was actually a relief for a couple reasons. One, when you've walked through the darkness of deep, suicidal depression for months on end, it is not something you EVER want to have to go through again for any reason. The thought of having to wean myself off of my medication to see if I needed it was something I was really apprehensive about, and honestly was the reason I asked the question today. The second reason I found comfort in this news is that there is a part of me that still wonders if my depression was my fault. I hear over and over in my head the stinging words: "Your problem is a SPIRITUAL one! You need to focus on getting right with God. Don't contact me or my family in any way until you get right with God and get the kind of help we offered you a long time ago!" (text from a former best friend's husband right before I got on medication) or the words of the elders of church I used to attend, when they anointed me with oil both for my depression and my cancer while we were waiting for the results of the biopsy: "So you have an emotional problem and a physical one. Take your thoughts captive." "Really?" I thought. "Really? So my possible cancer is a more 'prayer worthy' illness than the depression that had ravaged my life for two years? That's supposed to be as simple as taking my thoughts captive?! Have you ever tried that one in the throes of depression? Yeah. I didn't think so." To be honest, that's probably not how he meant it, but it's how I interpreted it at the time and there is part of me that wonders if maybe my depression was because God was unhappy with me, that maybe I was at odds with him, somehow holding on to my sin, but then I remember this post I wrote back in September 2011, shortly after my first stay in the mental hospital. I remember being flat on my face before God, begging Him for deliverance, knowing that I was fully and completely surrendered to ANYTHING He wanted from me and still feeling myself swallowed by the darkness of depression. So having the doctor tell me that my illness is severe enough to require medication for life, in some ways, affirmed to me that I am not to blame for the chemical imbalance in my brain. If this imbalance is lifelong and not situational, then perhaps I didn't cause it. Perhaps my former friends were wrong.
After my doctor's appointment, I drove to Chipotle, picked up lunch for me and Jason, and took it to his office. We ate lunch together, then I headed home to pick up the kids from school.
It was so nice to be out and about and to receive the love of strangers and friends alike. I'm exhausted now, but thankful for such a good day :-).

First chemo experience

Well, I did it. I went through my first chemo injection yesterday and it wasn't actually as bad as I had expected. I was in chair #2 this time, a bit disappointing because it's a corner chair, away from the fun and excitement ;-). Next time, I'm going to request a chair on the main drive, where there are more people I can talk to and interact with it. If that doesn't work, I'll unplug my machine from the wall (perfectly allowable) and mosey my way around to meet people. Might as well do something fun and productive while they attempt to save my life while dripping death into me!
I did get one fun moment while there yesterday. My friend Corrie and her Mom Mary came by and brought a gift!! Corrie is just a week post-surgery herself and will soon be joining me in the chemo chairs. I count her and her mom as one of the many beautiful gift God has given me along the journey. I am so thankful for them!
The administrations of the drugs themselves was pretty uneventful. The Cytoxin burned my nostrils a bit, but the nurse had warned me about it, so it didn't take me by surprise.
---I just handed my cat my cracker to lick. We share sometimes, and then just realized I can't do that anymore! Not while on chemo. DRAT :-(. I guess she gets the whole cracker now. She doesn't seem to disappointment about that....
Now back to my chemo recap. How I feel right now resembles a lot how I felt during the first trimester of my pregnancies. Queasy, lethargic, melancholic, mild, dull headache and exhausted! Did I mentioned I didn't care for pregnancy? Yeah. Not caring for this much either. A couple symptoms I didn't have with pregnancy and that I will be bringing up with the doc are muscle spasms (those returned last night). Since the neurologist thinks my first episode with major muscle spasms was stress induced, I would say that fits the bill in this instance, but if they return again tonight, I'll mention them to the doc. The second thing is mental confusion. I had two full conversations with James yesterday, only to find out he wasn't actually in the room and I was talking to myself! And I can't seem to keep track of what day and time it is. I really have to focus to remember what day it is. I'm also struggling with feeling blue. I wouldn't qualify it as depression. I'm not suicidal or anything. Just down, wondering how I'm going to make the most of this for the next SIX MONTHS! But then, six months is only two-thirds of a pregnancy and I made it through one of those twice. I bet I'll be ok :).

The night before chemo

It's the night before my very first chemo treatment and not surprisingly, I can't sleep. I'm sure the copious amounts of sugar I ingested today aren't helping in the slumber department! I figured today might be the last day in six months that I would actually enjoy what I was eating, so I ate whatever I darn well pleased. My body is not thanking me for that now ;-).
I feel as if I should have some big words of wisdom or insight, facing this monumental giant tomorrow, but to be honest, I'm mostly just feeling relief. Finally, we can get this started, and the sooner we get started, the sooner it's over and we can move on with our lives. If everything goes as planned, with no hiccups and/or schedule changes along the way, August 9th will be my last chemo treatment. I'm looking forward to that date with anticipation, but at the same time, I don't want to just hold my breath through the next six months. My life isn't stopping!! I don't want to "waste" this time.
Someone told me today that she hadn't visited me since my cancer diagnosis because "people don't feel up to visitors after surgeries and things". Please, dear friends, don't think of it that way! I don't want to be a recluse for six months. YIKES! Ask me, or ask Jason if I'm feeling up to visitors. We will be honest. And if you will agree to visit, I will agree to let you know when I've had enough. Some days, I may only feel up to a five or ten minutes, but those few minutes are SO refreshing! There have been a couple times in particular that I can think of when friends stopped by (Ann, Pamela, Drew, Tony and Tami, etc) and when they left, I had a smile on my face and in my heart that lasted for hours!
I need you, dear friends. I don't want to fight this battle alone and many of you have gone above and beyond to shower us with love over the past few months. Thank you for getting us through the first three surgery hurtles and the roller coaster of the diagnosis and test results and more diagnoses. Your prayers and support have been invaluable! Now we are entering stage 2 of this fight, and we need you still. Your prayers, your support, your visits, your love. They make all of this seem manageable, like a nuisance that will soon be over, as opposed to a giant that cannot be conquered. Thank you for fighting this fight with us and kicking this cancer to the curb...and beyond!

Along my recovery journey, I have discovered that I have some pretty distorted world views. One of the major ones I have just recently become aware of is that I behave as if the world is as it ideally "should" be, rather than as it is.
In an ideal world, should people be loving and accepting? Yes.
Should they be forgiving? Yes.
Should they be kind? Yes.
Should I be secure enough to withstand any kind of personal attack because I know that my value lies in what God thinks of me and not in what others do? Yes.  

But the fact of the matter is that no one can truly love unconditionally. People are often not forgiving, and many times are unkind, and words and attitudes DO hurt me. So I can continue expecting the world to be a place that it is not, and try to force it into an ideal mold it will never fit it, bringing myself considerable grief and pain along the way, or I can accept the things I don't like as part of life, and take the steps I need to take to protect myself from them.

Gabby told me a couple days ago when she was upset because James was getting attention for something and she wasn't: "Mommy, I don't want to accept that life isn't fair!" Me neither, baby girl, but if we don't, it's going to chew us up and spit us out, because whether we want to accept it or not, it is what it is. We can chose to beat our head against a wall, or we can accept it and move on.

My Village

A year and a half ago, when my mental illness started to really make itself known, I was very open about it. I think mostly because I was naïve and didn’t realize the cost of putting my “crap” out there for everyone to see. What I discovered is that when you put your crap out there, it sometimes gets flung right back at you and I was not ready for that. It hurt more than I care to admit, and I retreated into my shell.
I’m realizing, however, that I am not doing anyone any good by keeping my experience to myself. It is my hope that what I am going through will help others on both sides of the spectrum: those who are struggling with mental illness and those who love someone who is ill, but may not understand what they are going through or how to help.  So I’m putting on my poncho and my rubber boots, coming out of my shell, and putting my crap back out there. Feel free to fling it back at me. I’m ready for it this time.
Today is a good day for me. I seem to be coming out of my fog and am pretty close to my functional self again. This will likely last a few more days before I begin to gradually sink back down into the suffocating, life-sucking tentacles of depression again. My mental illness seems to be correlated to my monthly cycle, and if it follows the pattern it has been following for nearly two years now, I should be pretty miserable again within a couple weeks. But then again, some months aren't as bad. Maybe I'll get a Birthday/Christmas reprieve. We shall see.
Like I said, today is a good day, so I am making the most of it. My head is relatively clear and I have no desire to die, so I’ll take it, I will enjoy it, and I will put it to good use. I am hoping that over the next few days, I will be able to tell some of my story here, before I go back into survival mode for a few weeks.
I’m reading a lot about mental illness these days, trying to understand mine and give myself hope that I will be able to crawl my way out of this and become a fully functional human being again. I read something in Morning Has Broken, by Emme and Phillip Aronson, that actually prompted me to write this post. Phil writes:

Remember Hillary Clinton’s book, in which she talked about how it takes a village to raise a child? Well, it takes a village—and then some!—to help someone through a depression, and I was blessed to live among such loving, caring, supportive villagers. Sure, some of the natives got a little restless, and threw up their hands at what must have seemed to all concerned like frustrating behavior, but they were there for me the entire way, and I wouldn’t be here to write this account were it not for their amazing extra efforts.

I have been tremendously blessed by a group of friends and family who are supporting me on this journey. Some have been with me from the beginning and others have joined me along the way. Your support, love, encouragement and prayers have helped me more than I can say! I do not expect my friends/family to have all the answers. I do not expect you to even be able to point me in the right direction. And I definitely do not expect you to go through all of this with me without being fazed by my moods, my outbursts and the roller-coaster ride that comes with being part of my world. I know they are hard to take sometimes and I am truly sorry for the affect they have on you. But knowing that you love me even when you don’t understand, and knowing that you will forgive my weaknesses and pray for my strength is a huge source of comfort on this journey. The hugs, the prayers, the texts and conversations of support, and the help with the kids during doctors’ appointments and on the really rough days…I cannot thank you all enough. Thank you all for being part of my village. I am blessed.