Category: Depression

[21 day detox] preparation & disclaimer

21 DAYS, oh boy!

I am embarking on an adventure to heal myself! And I could not be more excited!  The Martha’s Vineyard Detox is a cleansing detoxification program.

“We are all exposed to chemicals and substances in our daily environments: cigarette smoke, smokestack emissions pesticide runoff, carpet, paint and bleach fumes, artificial flavors, colors, and preservatives, antibiotics and hormones, dry-cleaning fluid residue, nail polish, hair color harm our body and compromise our health…Overtime, toxic elements accumulate in our cells, gunk up our organs, erode our quality of life, and cause many of the low-grade discomforts that are familiar: allergies, fatigue, heartburn, headaches and loss of energy.  Toxins make us more susceptible to serious chronic diseases like high blood pressure and diabetes.  In fact, these poisons foul up the delicate inner workings of our bodies so much that many of us gain unwanted weight.”

Upfront I will say my mom is a trained naturopath.  She has been a vocal proponent of natural remedies and the belief in the body’s ability to heal and keep itself healthy.  Generally I would agree that traditional Chinese medicine makes sense to me — which is based on the concept that the human body is a small universe with a set of sophisticated and interconnected systems, and that those systems usually work in balance to maintain the healthy function of the human body.

But my “universe” has been messed up for some time.

I’ve spent the last 20 years of my life hearing about ‘this or that’ theory or the latest diet or fast she was doing.  And since my mom had struggled with her own health, and weight, and has yo-yo’d, I pretty much dismissed it all cart blanch. I heard her testimony about healing herself of thyroid problems and lung disease and took it with some skepticism.  I would use the occasional L-lysine for boosting your immune system and tried a few other things, but mostly — unfortunately — I was patronizing and glib about most of her plans, though I never expressed it out loud (to her)  — I simply didn’t listen to her.  Like Charlie Brown’s parents, her health advice went in as “Wah, wah.”  Very sorry Mom!

It is a mystery to me why I was open to considering my health right now.  I believe spiritually and physically I was searching for some answers and for whatever reason the timing was right.

My sister was doing this particular detox last year and I saw the immediate health results — that really sold me.  Health issues that she has struggled with her entire adult life just “went away” via this detox.  (She has since backed this up with her medical doctor’s analysis.) And so I read the book over Christmas break and just finished it.  And the book is compelling!

Read my blog  “I have eaten my last waffle!” here for how it began for me.

My fast begins today (when my stuff arrives in the mail) but it was not something that you can go into without planning.  I have to admit upfront that this fast is going to be a challenge!  Thus far, I have ordered my supplements and green drinks.  I have had the first dreaded colonic. (Not as bad as you would think!)  I will have a Lymphatic Massage tomorrow.  My first reaction is expensive.  Already expensive!  Your average person would not probably afford $200 of vitamins, supplements, etc. and the $110 for colonic and ionic foot bath.  Only if you were already extremely ill would it make sense.  But we’ll see.  I’ll keep track of the expenses vs. what I get out of it.

As a writer I thought this book was badly organized.  So one of the things I want to do during this fast, is to break things down more clearly.  The science and personal reflections in the book are important to read, so if you’re interested in this detox you will still have to read the book. It is 21 Pounds in 21 Days. The Martha’s Vineyard Diet Detox by Roni DeLUZ founder of the Martha’s Vineyard Holistic Retreat.

Disclaimer: If you are at all squeamish about  how your bodily functions OR reading  about physical changes in mine, this [21 DAY FAST] segment of my blog may not be for you.  But I would say, give it a chance.  I may talk about colonics and other bodily changes, it is not because I’m strange but because I WANT THIS TO BE A REAL DIARY OF MY EXPERIENCE DURING THE 21 DAYS and we get squeamish about these things and ignore what our body is saying to us. And the point of a cleansing toxins out is to experience the changes within and I would like to be able to let others know of the benefits.  Because my prediction is that this will be life changing.

[OK, so you have been warned.]

As I finished up the book the Martha’s Vineyard Diet Detox and began to make my plans, one of the things I needed to do was think about my goals.

Why am I completing this detox?

I think my reasons have evolved.  As soon as I began to read the book I began to be more aware of my body.  The extreme discomfort in my clothing, certain aches and pains like frequent head-aches, strange pain in my right lower tummy area after eating, constant constipation, sore stiff knees,  and difficulty sleeping sometimes.  On top of that I quit smoking and drinking alcohol in the last year, so my lungs and my liver are toxic.  I struggle with depression and anxiety and have taken an antidepressant medication for about five years.  I stopped another medication this year.  I have chronic allergies and pop Benadryl like candy.  As well as Advil or something like it for headaches. I’m addicted to caffeine and joke about it as if it’s funny.

Well apparently most of these things are not or do not need to be a part of my life.  Huh!   I can detox my way out of most of them. And so can you.  NONE of these things are something one HAS to live with and endure.

Oh, and I forgot the most troubling reason: I have gained some weight all over, but especially around the middle, and I can not seem to rid myself of it!  I am not a dieter, so this has frustrated me like hell! A lot of it has to do with my sedentary lifestyle but I just have no energy for things.  No Zeal, no Zest for life!

Guess what, we do not have to live with these type of discomforts and we can heal our body of these things with a detox.

I am looking forward to and expect: more energy, less need to sleep, better mental clarity, memory and focus; fewer headaches and backache; less knee aches and joint pain; a reduction in cellulite; fewer colds and a stronger immune system.

Next time I will talk about exactly what the detox involves.

I will keep you posted as to how I am feeling.

When it comes to forgiveness, I’m lousy!

This is a very personal reflection.  I have written it to and about some specific people, but I believe there are lessons to be learned and so I share it here.

When it comes to forgiveness I have to admit, I’m lousy (here is something I wrote about the process of forgiving my father).  I guess one could say that I hold on to things.  I would say that I hold on to them until I’m ready to let go, always intending to let go at – some – point.  When it is safe?

When you have experienced an abusive home life, it is pure survival instinct to be suspicious.  That lack of being able to trust has hurt me in my life, I know, but it has also protected me from other kinds of pain.  Growing into  Christ’s forgiveness has meant that I have to learn to trust.

When I went to work for my father in 1991 I did it for his approval.  I’d never in my life felt his approval and I just wanted a context where he might ‘like’ me or what I did.  Innocently at first, I stepped into a situation where others accused us of nepotism.  So not only did I have the pressure to perform so that my scowling, disapproving perfectionist father would love me and more importantly approve of me, but I had to live up to his expressed expectations so that others would see that I was competent and deserved to be there.

I learned a lot in the first few years there.  He pushed me in ways that I needed.  I was shy and insecure and he expected me to make things happen!  I learned to express myself clearly, get on the phone and make it happen and eventually I began to see that I was pretty good.  He definitely gave me a confidence boost but I wasn’t prepared for him offering me a huge promotion to Urbana communications.

I’m  still not sure why he did that?  I had a communications degree but it was meaningless at least in my mind.  It was a “I don’t know what to study” degree.   When I started that job I was equal parts thrilled and terrified.  I had tons of ideas and I felt so passionate about my ideas that I wasn’t afraid of what others thought.  Those were good days in the beginning.  Days of huge learning and beginning to shape communications for Urbana the way I wanted.  Yes, I was very I centered.  But things were going fine until I ran up against Scott Wilson.  He told me at one of our first lunches that this was “family” and family looked out for each other.  I had been looking at an external ad agency to help bring some new ideas into the promotion and in no uncertain terms I was told if I did that, I was not “in the family” [insert lingering unspoken threat]

This was so outrageous to me that I remember going home and laughing with Tom because it sounded so mafia-like.  Turns out he wasn’t kidding and that began a power struggle that only escalated and continued up to the day I left InterVarsity.  I take that back, after I left on maternity leave with my third child, after what came to be my last Urbana, he began to ignore me.

Ten years later, I know that I never wanted to leave InterVarsity.  I loved my job.  I was tired and very pregnant and burned out.  I felt like I wasn’t totally supported when it came to my job and that I was being ignored structurally.  I felt unsure about a new Urbana director and tired, did I mention how tired I was?  I did Urbana 2000 seven months pregnant, wrote my report totally exhausted, had my son, did the maternity leave and then … I didn’t know how to return and it didn’t seem like it mattered to anyone whether I did or not.  No one was there to help me get a plan together for the future.  I fell between the cracks.

I never experienced resolution to the conflicts with Scott Wilson.  I never got support for some of the issues I had on my team.  I felt that I had somehow failed and yet, I can’t think of how really.  Three bursting conventions.  The goal had been achieved.  I guess my problem was that I always wanted more.  And ‘more’ wasn’t going to happen at InterVarsity with Scott around.

The funny thing is how different Scott and I are.  I express myself in writing, he’s verbal and extremely articulate.   I’m shy.  I am not a people person, I’m an ideas person.  I have learned over the last ten years that I am really okay with lots of solitude.  I hate meetings and process, though I see how important they can be. I love team and community, but I don’t know how to achieve it.  If someone could have helped us, I think Scott and I together could have been very effective with InterVarsity communications, but as it was the whole thing crushed me.

But I can see God’s big and loving hands on this whole thing, because I don’t know if I could have learned the things that I have about myself and about Him if I had stayed at IV.  Spiritually, I was dying there.  I equated all this pain I was experiencing with God’s care for me and it didn’t feel very good.  I was hurt, and angry, and ready to tell God to f-off!

My story changed at that point to one of personal redemption.  I was experiencing postpartum depression, I was coming off being a workaholic to being a full-time nursing mom of three in diapers.  My identity issues which had trailed after me all my life flared their ugly head and all of a sudden I felt irrelevant and like a total failure.  After thirteen beautiful learning years at IV, because of the lack of closure and lack of resolution to this conflict, I felt I had failed.

I should have been able to figure it out but I was incapable at the time.   I put some of that pain into my final report, but I guess no one that mattered read it because I never heard back from anyone at IV.  It was like I had fallen off the face of their planet.  What short memories organisations seem to have.

As I dealt with depression, which worsened I began to wrestle with alcohol.  I am not proud of those years certainly.  I was self-medicating and only later learned that it was genetic and my mom would soon get help for her own alcoholism.  I continued to wrestle with it off and on for years.  My father got sick, diagnosed with brain tumors.  He had surgery meanwhile I was trying to figure out if I should go on an antidepressant which was a heart wrenching decision.  At the time of the doctor’s appointment for that, I discovered I was pregnant.  I flew off to Colorado to be with my parents, knowing I was pregnant and clinically depressed.  I did go on the medication.  And for four days I considered an abortion, feeling I was an unfit mother. I don’t know where the thoughts of aborting the baby came from but I was in a major depression.   Six weeks later, the baby self aborted.  A miscarriage.

All the while we were dealing with my father’s illness, my mother’s her drinking became a danger to others including dad and herself.   In the end dad died, mother got help, and I was back with the problems I had before it all started.  Still depressed, confused, lonely and angry at everyone.

On and off over the years I have sought help for my drinking.  It was only in the last year that I knew I could stop.  I know my drinking would never have happened if I had a full-time job.  I hardly drank when I was working.  And I do believe looking back that the opportunity for ‘abuse’ came with too much time on my hands at first, boredom, the stress of little ones under foot, the genetic propensity, and the almost manic depression that I was getting help for at the same time.

I am grateful now that I had the last ten years to slow down enough to see myself – feel my feelings – stop achieving long enough to realize how badly I felt about myself.  When I was working I was a maniacal over-worker.  If I had a slow day I would get this crazy black cloud over me that I had to run from and so I just kept running.  Doing.  Achieving.  I stopped feeling.   I stopped believing in the purpose of Urbana.  I stopped experiencing God.   My faith was so disintegrated at that point that I remember feeling I had better leave before someone finds out what a hypocrite I was.

This is all to say that I know I had many failures while I was working at IV.  I allowed pettiness and bitterness to dominate me.  I overworked people.  I knew there were people on my team who were hurting and I didn’t know how to help them, so I didn’t.  I just worked, because like my father that is where I felt competence.  I was too proud to ask for help.  And the few times I did ask for help, I was so filled with bitterness and anger that it is no wonder no one could hear me, understand the issues and resolve anything.

To Scott Wilson, I ask that you forgive me for disparaging you in my heart and with others.  To Barney Ford, I ask that you forgive me for not keeping my heart healthy and free from bitterness.  I ask that you both forgive me for allowing anger to dominate and for being a hypocrite.  I stopped listening to God in those last years at IV and was probably more of destructive force then anything.  To all the people who served with me, like Barry Sherbeck, and many others I ask your forgiveness for being so bitter.  For wasting so much of your time with my dark heart issues.  For people who worked for me, like Paul, and Mark, and Grace, and Carol, please forgive me for pushing you so hard.  And for being a feeble boss.  Grace, I should never have hired you knowing I was not going to be the supervisor you needed.  Please forgive me.  I know you all needed things from me that I had no knowledge of how to provide.

As I said, I’m no good at forgiveness.  Or perhaps it just takes me a while.  I can only praise God that He gave me these years, that  as I fell on my face and looked up He was there with open arms.  I can rise up today truly able to seek forgiveness and to let go of all that pain and finally be free!

Be not judges of others, and you will not be judged: do not give punishment to others, and you will not get punishment yourselves: make others free, and you will be made free.  Luke 6:37

[21 day detox]


[…]

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

I have eaten

my last waffle.

I am doing my homework in order to do a 21 day fast. The theory is that our bodies are full of toxins from poor eating, our unhealthy environment and general bad living.  So, in order to have our body working at maximum efficiency one needs to flush it of all those toxins.

Over the last year I have had:

  1. chronic headaches (two to three a week),
  2. ongoing knee pain,
  3. TMJ/jaw clenching with pain,
  4. gastrointestinal issues,
  5. a weight gain of fifteen pounds (at least),
  6. to take antihistamines for constant allergies,
  7. to take antidepressant medication because I suffer from depression and anxiety.

I have also:

  1. gone off an anti-anxiety/sleep mediation,
  2. quit drinking alcohol, and
  3. quit smoking.

Good things, but lots of toxins stored up I’m thinking.

I’ve been reading the book 21 Pounds in 21 Days by Roni DeLuz, RN, ND. My sister did this fast and saw incredible health benefits, several health issues completely resolved and she felt fantastic!

I thought I might record the journey. Follow along if you wish.

Today I have to get organized by ordering the supplies and supplements which thanks to my sister Tonya I can order fro http://www.iherbs.com for much less than the package deal at the Doctor’s website. Dust off the juicer my mom gave me and on Monday make an appointment for a Colonic. (Yes, it’s that serious.) And call Tonya to get her advice and tips. She’s also doing the fast, starting today, so she’ll be a few days ahead of me!

I will begin when I get my care package in the mail.  Stay tuned.

For Everything there is a Season

It is George Bernard Shaw that said what is the true joy in life,

“the being used for a purpose

recognized by yourself as a mighty one;

the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap;

the being a force of nature

instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances

complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.”

I am starting to feel a such a sense of self-loathing because I need more to do with myself.   Do I have an utterly solipsistic life?  Not to be overly dramatic, but the care and well-being of my children is simply not enough.  I have wrestled with the demon and shame of that for nine years, since I quit working  at InterVarsity and began to take care of my kids full-time.  Even at the beginning, when I was trying to decide I never believed it would be enough for me.  And tho there have been wonderful moments, it has not been satisfying, not really.  How do you live with the knowledge that you should not have made the decision that you did?  I could hardly admit that after walking away from a really amazing job.  But my situation at work had grown intolerable and seemed impossible to fix.  So after nearly a year of soul-searching  — I quit .  I chose to become an at-home mom. Even while I was changing diapers and wiping noses, singing songs and cuddling, wiping away tears and reading stories — all thoroughly wonderful things, mind you — I struggled.  Though I know many, many women (and some men) do find it to be full of purpose, I was confused, very lonely, sad and missing my work.

Of course I questioned myself!  For all those years, thirteen at InterVarsity and nine years of being at home, I was searching internally for a sense of  my purpose.   At IV I was constantly pushing people and myself to try new things more out of a sense of my need for change and overworking as well.  I was frantic and dissatisfied most of the time.  So I don’t want to give the impression that WORK was a panacea or mecca.  I have searched for ultimate purpose my whole life and I still am looking.

On one level, have a father who was so dynamic and incredible made me expect more — of myself, of my work, of my life.

I think this blog was in part trying to sort that out.  Talk about things that are important to me.  Wrestle with ideas, doubt, passions and self-absorption, say something important or  at least interesting.  It was a venue for my poetry and a way to get feedback on it.

I once was a human dynamo, even while learning the hard way how to treat others with the dignity and with the care they deserved.  I had failures which I feel deep sorrow.  I could name the people whose lives I hurt as a leader or manager and I have such regret. But at the time I was so full of my accomplishments that it didn’t slow me down.  While I was making mistakes I was also accomplishing a lot (some of it good, a few things I consider great) and people were affirming and promoting me.  As I have mentioned at other times, I had altercations with another leader and that conflict became too much for me .  It wasn’t worth it after a while.  I had reached a place of resistance and no-where to go in the organization without running into this person.  I guess you could say they ‘won’ if it was a competition (which it felt like) and I lost by walking away.

When I left work to be at home  full-time, I was at first almost giddy with how simple it was.  Uncomplicated.  The sameness of the days was a relief after all that unpredictable infighting and conflict!  And then it wasn’t so great.  More like Ground Hod Day, if you have seen the movie.  The same day over and over, the alarm ringing and waking to realize it is THAT DAY again and again and again.

“Don’t waste life in doubts and fears; spend yourself on the work before you, well assured that the right performance of this hour’s duties will be the best preparation for the hours and ages that will follow it.”  — Ralph Waldo Emerson

What being at home did, with one day indistinguishable from the next, was to strip it all away — shattering the persona I had created and forcing me to look hard at my internal grid work.  I had to face and try to understand my family of origin.  While caring for my kids,  the successful person that I had been was unimportant, even irrelevant.  And I had no choice but to face myself — look in the mirror and frankly I wasn’t very happy with what I saw.

Through it, I was overcome by a deep, deep depression.  It hit most powerfully over two months and because I didn’t know what was happening to me I thought I was going mad.  Crazy.  Cuckoo.  Insane.  And I was utterly helpless to help myself.  I couldn’t make decisions.  I couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t DO anything.  I had no energy, my mind was sludge, my heart felt like it might stop.

I remember talking to my dad on the phone, sitting on my backporch in the beautiful warn summer sunshine, saying “Dad, I just want to be happy.”  That was June.  He mailed me a plaque that said “You are the one Jesus loves” and  at the time my skin crawled at the thought!  I had absolutely lost any idea of God’s grace in my life or belief in His  individual love for me.  I was in the pit of despair and I did not believe it.  If I were the only one that existed, I would be loved by Jesus.   Little did I know this was to become a theme over the next years as I began to fight with God over his approval and affirmation.

In October my parents came to visit and I had manage to get myself functional.  My dad acted wierd and kind of mean, but he has always been slightly mean so I thought nothing of it.  Then in November he was diagnosed with brain tumors and we discovered his tumors had made him behave oddly for some time.

By May of the next year he was dead, but he was “gone” long before that.  After surgery, chemo and radiation he was gone.  He never said my name after his December surgery but he did call me Linda, once.  My mother went into treatment that April and was sober to see my dad die.  We’re all grateful for that.  Her alcoholism, his illness and death, my depression, my own alcoholism which I couldn’t accept, continuing to care for three young children…  You can imagine it was an ugly few years.  I am most grateful for Tom hanging in there with me and even more than just hanging, he helped fight for me and got me back into a place of genuine health.

Through those years, I struggled to do the hard work of therapy and if anyone has never done therapy you really have no idea how much work it is.  Weekly and sometimes twice a week at first, which turned into years of work.  I won’t go into all the detail here (too much was happening) but I have had episodes off and on with the depression for these many years.  With medication, several doctor’s care, a hospitalization after a suicide attempt, the care and long-suffering of Tom, much prayer and internal work which became eternal work,

I faced that I had become an alcoholic,

I faced that I needed to learn to love myself,

I faced that all of this around me (stuff & things) mattered not a whit,

I faced my loneliness,

I faced my insecurities developed from a lifetime of feeling my parents didn’t approve,

I faced a pathological need to be perfect,

I faced that I start and quit many things – I’m good at starting things and have more trouble with maintaining them;

I faced that I was tired of being at home, …

_______

Jeez, that makes me one crazy messed up woman that no-one will want to hire.  yes, that’s what the voices in my head began to say.

For everything there is a season,

And a time for every matter under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to seek, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to throw away;

A time to tear, and a time to sew;

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate,

A time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

I have carried many stones.  Lost so much.  Wept an ocean inside.  Seen death and mourning.

I am ready to dance, to seek and listen.  I am eager to know what it is that I am here to do.  My advent lament was to cry out for God to speak.

James Thurber said:

All men should strive to learn before they die, what they are running from, and to, and why.

Stay tuned as I learn to dance, seek and listen!

Letting go. Thoughts on being an alcoholic. A cautionary tale.

Why do I tell people, up front, that I’m an alcoholic?  I certainly haven’t always been able to admit it.  That’s the journey really.  Once you can admit it, some of the sting is gone.  Once you can admit it, help looks appealing.  Once you can admit it everything changes.

It took me more than seven years to admit it to myself. And then s l o w l y getting help took another several years.  It is hard.  Proud people don’t easily concede and I was very very proud.

In November of 02 my father was diagnosed with brain tumors and it turned out to be a death sentence. I was abusing alcohol even then, but it took me years to process intellectually and spiritually that I might have a problem. And to be honest at that point it wasn’t bad — I was quite functional — just had bouts of over doing it.

Today I have to admit that I am an alcoholic and that I will never drink alcohol again, because I was headed toward being a falling down drunk. No, because I was a drunk.  But most people, even those I drank with regularly, didn’t see it and some still don’t believe it.  Of course I was careful.  And bless him, the one person that did see me the few times it got super ugly was my husband.  We’re talking black outs and you name it, it all happened.  He was never judgmental but he was worried — very very afraid and didn’t know what to do.  Over the years, we ‘quit’ together at his pushing and it lasted for a while.  But I wasn’t committed to that idea.  Let me be clear I am not proud of any of that, AT ALL.  I don’t write this to glory in it in some weird way.  I’m ashamed.  It was awful.  I’m grateful that my children were young and didn’t witness most of it.  When they ask me why I don’t drink I tell them I can’t and basically repeat what I’ve said above.  My daughter has asked me why I can’t just have one drink at a party?  I have to tell her there is no “one drink” for an alcoholic.  I wish it were different, but that is the plain truth.  One quickly becomes five, or eight.

I am sharing this story because, I think people need to know that I a forty-something, white, Christian women from the suburbs was a drunk .  It could happen to anyone.  This is a cautionary tale.

Alcoholism is partly genetic and my extended family is riddled with addiction.  With a parent who is an alcoholic, there’s one in four chance that you will be.  (Yes, I have told my daughter that and my nieces and nephews.) Scientists do not yet know how much is determined by our DNA and how much by our life experiences, but circumstances in your life play into it.  Also your emotional state.  And, although it’s not simple, but I can admit it myself that at a certain point in my addiction, I decided the following.  It was a clear-headed day when I said, “Perhaps I am an alcoholic, probably, but I will not quit yet.  Not until I really, really have to, because, at least I can enjoy a few more years of my life.”

Now that seems sad, that I believed life wasn’t worth living without alcohol. And I can say, today that life is way, way, WAY better without it.  (And I still crave it sometimes.  I’m only at the beginning of recovery.)

I told myself that I could “manage” my drinking.  And I did that, for about a year, until it escalated into drinking every day and then drinking a lot every day.  And then, … well, … all I can say is that God told me to quit. (And that is a story for another day.)

And so for years, I couldn’t imagine my life without alcohol.  It was more important to me than almost everything.  I had lost friendships because of it.  And other intangibles like personal integrity.  That was the sin I think.  I’m genetically predisposed.  I struggle with and receive treatment for major depression and I knew alcohol is a depressant.  I was on medication for depression that had warnings about drinking alcohol with it, but I did not want to give it up.  At one time I had a frightening suicide attempt.

I believed that I could not give it up, but here is the kicker . . .  I would not ask God to help me with it.  I mean how pathetic would that be? “God, please help me not to drink.” Swig.  Not me.  I turned away from God.

Now I can say publicly that I have struggled with addiction, depression and self-harm because I have finally let go. It all happened to me, but laying all that down was the biggest relief! I will never drink again.  I will likely struggle with major depression through out my life, though I have learned a lot about managing it and it’s better than it has ever been.

But I got help.  I had a supportive, rock solid, amazing husband, and family & friends that didn’t give up on me.  I have the best therapist.  I got trained in my addiction through Gateway Drug & Alcohol, which I cannot recommend highly enough.  But it was the ongoing teaching at Blackhawk, and my personal study of Biblical principles, and a small group of women praying, that was as or more important than anything else.  Through personal study I began to understand in a new way now, I can say to you, without shame, I may be an alcoholic but I am loved.

I am more than a year, free (as of July 08)!

I found, at last, unconditional love from God.  After wondering and struggling my whole bloody life, finally I fell so far down that there was only up.  I looked up and God was still there.  Somehow, I believed it and although I have to take up with Him (almost) daily it is good.

“Do you mean it?  You really, really love me? Accept me, with all my sh*t.  I mean, I’ve messed up good.  How can I ever stand in front of people and admit…….” You get the picture.  He says “Yep, I mean it. I love you.”

And I start another day.

And, I continue to figure out what it means to be loved.  And what kind of person I need to be: humble and yet confident, kind, honest and compassionate, striving to serve others who walk the same path … for starters.

Life Long Yearning

The galactic hole in my heart makes me tired

of holding all the pieces together. Tired of doubting.

Tired of needing.Wishing.Hurting.Crying out in all the ways that speak of your neglect.

All my life, Daddy, learning  that I am incomplete.

So am filling up, gorging on all the things that don’t fill that galactic hole.

Wishing for love that never came. All my life, yearning.

It stops when I say so.  I am here, not billowing in space without an anchor.

I want more. I need.  I wish. I hurt. I cry for love and find it.

At the cross, in peace I lay a life of yearning. I am home.

All of my poems are organized with images and can be found here.  One in particular is about that time when I turned away from God.  It can be found here.

If you or someone you love struggles with depression there is help.  If I had managed my depression better I would not have needed to drink.  I’d be glad to talk to you or there’s tons of help on the web.  This website, http://alcoholism.about.com/od/about/u/symptoms.htm, does a good job of breaking things down.  A caution:  Medical doctors are terrible at helping a person with these issues.  I don’t know whether they are just too busy or in denial or just don’t have the where with all to help.  But I would not go to an MD if I were worried about my drinking.  They will likely play it down.  That goes for most Psychologists as well.  There is no harm in talking to a Drug or Alcohol professional, with is covered by many health insurance policies.  Or, you can pay out of pocket for one appointment if confidentiality is a concern.

Whether it is you or someone you love that you are worried about, I can tell you that if you are worried enough to get more information, then the chances are they have a problem or are headed in that direction.  It doesn’t have to shatter your life, if they can get some help sooner than later.  I’m grateful that I was able to get help before I drove drunk and killed someone.

**Two out of three people who struggle with depression never seek help, and untreated depression is the leading cause of suicide.  In America alone, it’s estimated that 19 million people live with depression, and suicide is the third-leading cause of death among those 18-24 years old.  The good news is that depression is very treatable, that a very real hope exists in the face of these issues.”   Source: http://www.twloha.com/index.php

Winter Comes

WINTER COMES

Winter is uninvited, yet it always comes.

No matter how long  I postpone trying on last year’s coats, hats and gloves,

even still winter comes.  If I leave the hose out until it’s frozen stiff, snaking through the yard,

still winter comes.  The pots and the plants they crack and curl from the cold.  Winter, comes.

Winter comes in the cold,

dark mornings heralding sad thoughts and memories.

I lost my father to the winter.  I discovered, accepted and revealed a family’s ancient addiction.

I miscarried.  I fell down.  I fell apart.  Always winter comes.

Winter means waking early with darkness bringing in the day.

Though I try to overcome, the anxious thoughts settle in.

Remember the cold. Remember, remember.  I am always falling, in winter.

Good things are lost, so do not hold too tight

to what you desire most.  You will lose them to winter.

Love hurts more in winter, dries up and becomes need.

Love becomes memory. I am falling.  In winter.

And at the moment when the winter once again threatens to overcome, I end my slumber.

On that icy morning I wake early. Snuggle in.

Sipping coffee, by the fire.   And I think of Spring.

13, October, 2009

Splintered Truth


…

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

This is not the end.

It is just another day.

A bitter clutching.

Somehow she will love, enough.

And will continue to speak truth.

Their voices are her voices

which hold power for her, only

if she listens

to the clutch of their ancient lies.

Murky in message, mighty in corruption.

She will not surrender to their splintered truths.

This is just another day

to hold on to her children’s laughter,

to their questions, to their need.

These she grabs on to fiercely

and holds on another day;

telling herself the truth found in wanting

[laughter, questions, need]

more than ancient lies and madness.

She is strong.

As she speaks there is found a certainty

in the granules of this goodness, pure and sweet.

Anxiety is love’s greatest killer.


“


Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

Anxiety is love’s greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic.

— Anais Nin

regrets

I have many regrets in my life, strongest of which is I am sorry that I became a mother. I may not wreck my children’s lives (or I may, the verdict is out) but they deserve a stronger person, a better example, different genes than mine, a greater chance for happiness & joy.

I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out to my sister’s kids when they were small.  Oh, I have excuses: working full-time, newly married, new step-mom, three little ones in four years. But I didn’t and I can never fix that.  I should have and to Michal and Josh, I owe an apology.

I’m sorry that I gave in to addiction. So it’s a disease and all, but don’t some people manage it better? I wanted to escape. I became a drunk.  To my children and my husband, most of all, I am so sorry.

I’m sorry that I never confronted my father while he was living about his abusive anger, control, retaliation, and cruelty. I was too afraid. I lived every moment in the thralls of that fear, but there were a few times when I almost had the courage. I didn’t.  He is dead and to my sisters, I am so sorry.  We all deserved better.  To mom, who took it on the cheek emotionally speaking, you’re still here and that’s saying something.

I’m sorry for all the sarcasm that I threw at people over the years. It’s wicked and wrong. I am glad to have mostly overcome this.  To my sisters, certain friends I will not name, Tom and even at times my children.  Especially Molly.

I have specific regrets,Molly, for not being the step-mom you deserved.  I was jealous, weak, and petty about your mom and for that I am ashamed.

I regret never trying anything when I was young. I was living in a straight-jacket of fear and need to please my parents. If I do anything now people smirk. I should know better. That’s just it. I don’t know better.

I really should never have tried to love, because I’m fairly incapable of it. Having never received unconditional love growing up, there’s a canyon of need and grief, and no matter how much I try to love others, I’m bereft of the skills I am certain one needs to truly love back. My best attempt is with Tom and 2nd with my children, and I’m sorely lacking. I know the actions but inside I am frozen-hearted.

I try to love others. But I am just hanging on. If I let go, to reach out to others, won’t I fall?

this epic grief

this Epic Grief

September 13, 2009


Minutes tick.  Limbs twitch.  Covers are tangled & awry.  I think I am almost under, when I realize that I have been awake for hours.

It is too late.  Sleep eludes me.

In the darkness I lay back again.  And again.  And  again.

My mind full of  shadows; ripples of awareness & memory.  Weariness.  Need. Needing anything besides my irrational, wild, anxious thoughts. Have I always felt so lonely?  Have I always had this epic grief?

It seems as if I was born lonely, afraid, ashamed. distrusting.  My heart in pieces.   One of my strongest childhood memories.

But hold on.  Pain must have a beginning.

Was it there before I was?  There in the hearts of my mother and father?

Was it as real to them? The waking dream.  The dreamless sleep.  A quiet pulse, ever present.

Did they pass this madness on to me, through blood and tears of a generational grief?

I am sleepless and crazy with sadness that in times past I would have gladly drowned with alcohol, or any other intoxicant.

But dry, I am left with this epic grief.

Days and years. Years and days of working at sobriety.

Because dry, without the work, I am simply left amongst my dreams.

Left

with this epic grief.


Writing poetry helps me feel something to its extreme.  To go as far as the madness allows and still remain sane.  And then — somehow — come back to a place of semi-sanity.  It helps me to write.  And I hope that it helps someone else as well.  I think that is why I share though some would say “A cry for help.” Ha, ha.  That is so.

Random Sadness (a poem)


God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.     C.S. Lewis

Random sadness cannot be shaken

or filled up with things that may have worked before

food or drink,

distractions of children,

hard work,

general busyness,

exercise,

or even photography.

Random sadness, following me

like a weight on my neck and shoulders.

Sleep, my usual solace only brings bad dreams.

I cannot run from this

random sadness

which will be my constant companion today.

Melody Hanson
1 Nov 08

I need a filling (a poem)


…Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

It’s difficult to face

some days.

Yesterday was like that

simply

because I was face-to-face

with my [faithless and revolting] need

for Substance.

And I vowed,

again, as I do many days

to offer my need to God, the ultimate Other,

asking for a filling.

I need a filling dear Lord, I need a filling.

written 4/13/2009

by Melody Harrison Hanson

Flow of Consciousness – 1

1/11/09 It is stunning that it is mid January already.

It is a fine time as any to reflect on the past few weeks. My house is quiet. I have my youngest snuggled in against me as he “can’t sleep” (after five minutes of trying) and I’m a sucker for cuddles.

The holidays were really a blur ending with the death of a friend that has thrown me in major ways.  But I just can’t process that yet.

We had lots of family, mostly at our place, which was actually fine and quite fun to cook. I baked a lot and remembered how much I love to bake: pies and cakes, and many meals including crepes for Christmas morning.  Most memorable was baking and decorating Christmas cookies with the kids which I’ve decided to turn into an annual tradition it was so much fun and the kids were literally giddy!  I have tons of good memories, mostly centered around sharing food.  But I missed not seeing two of my sisters, their kids and husbands.  My sister Tonya has a new son Daniel whom I haven’t yet met.  I hate that we live such a distance from one another and right now are too “poor” to travel.

It really wasn’t an issue not drinking. I’m not sure if it was because it isn’t around (Not much anyway; some people still drink around me and that’s cool. It’s just that a few of my friends that I sometimes drank with are not around, but that’s another story. I get a pit in my stomach every time I think of it.) Or is rather simply because I’m at a place in my abstinence where it isn’t an issue. I’m not so naive that I believe I’m done with it being an issue, but at least for this holiday I felt okay about it.

I am feeling my age and you can see it in my face, puffiness around the eyes and age spots, wrinkles.  And gray hair, though you can’t see that in this image.  I am carrying extra pounds that haunt me and make me feel old, make my knees hurt on the stairs and just make me plain lazy.  My TMJ is acting up again, just like last Christmas strangely enough. It must be some internal stress that manifests at night, as I dream I clench my jaw causing it to ache in the daytime. And ache in the evenings when I am reading to my kids so that by the time I am done it’s throbbing.  But I won’t give that up, I enjoy it too much! We’re reading the Narnia series and it’s so terrific to read aloud. I do have a good memory of my dad reading that series to us when I was around that age.  Anyway, I suppose it’s time to visit a specialist for the TMJ.

My depression has held itself at bay for a long while, but reared its ugly head at Halloween, and again before Christmas and then again recently. It’s strange when you have a chronic thing like this which is something that people don’t understand. I’ve had it so long, and know so much about it at this point.  But it never ceases to amaze and dismay me how little people know about Depression; how they lack true understanding, which makes it difficult to feel or express real compassion.  I hope that it has made me kinder and more sensitive to others – at least that would make one positive outcome from this hellish illness.

I think in our culture we don’t really believe depression is a disease. Honestly, I might have been in that same place before this happened to me. I have always been one of those “pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps” kind of people and in many ways I still am actually.  I do believe that if you’re feeling ill you should get up and face your day as if you aren’t. Nine times out of ten, you can work through it and the world is none the wiser.  And sometimes I can even do that with this, but it takes so much to do it.

[Caviat: I have been thinking that it is time to start writing about this experience and some of the others of my life.  If there was one thing I will take away from my friendship with Pete (there were many) it is WRITE!  He even went so far as to scold me, gently, about it.   Pete, if you can hear me, I heard you!  I promise to start writing!!  I don’t know what will come of it, but I’m starting with this Flow of Consciousness series. ]

But back to the topic at hand, silly me, I’ve got major depression which is not like anything I’ve ever experienced. Oh, I’ve always been melancholy, (“Melancholy Melody” my friends used to say jokingly in college and at that time it was true. I also put a pessimistic spin on everything and was always slightly anxious and filled with dread in social settings.)   But this, which began in June of 2004 (I’m not sure I’ve got the right year ’cause I’m terrible with dates and will have to think back which I’m far too tired to do right  now) is by far the most difficult thing I’ve encountered in my 42 years. Worse than my dad getting sick, worse than facing my mom’s alcoholism, worse than the shit of my childhood, being raged at and shamed, worse than all the heartaches I’ve faced in relationships in and outside my family, worse than being an alcoholic myself and worse than having to admit it, simply the worst thing in my entire life is Depression – admitting it, accepting it, living with it.  Did I mention admitting it because that is a story in and of itself, for another day.

It comes and goes but it has come again and well, it feels like it is here to stay a while. I’m doing all the things that I know help fight it and fight is the only thing you can do.  Unless you’re just going to lie down and give in to it, say your goodbyes perhaps and be done with this life.  Yes, another day has passed, I fought, and hope against all hope I will sleep hard and well, and start again tomorrow.  For all we can do it Hope in a new day.

I think that’s all I have for tonight.