Light Through The Cracks

I was with a group of friends recently when I happened to notice one of them in a moment that I am sure she thought no one was paying any attention to her. I was. And I saw The Look. The Look behind The Mask she puts on when she is with people. It's The Look of someone who's soul is locked away in solitary confinement alone with only the sounds of her own pleas for help in the prison of Depression. I know The Look well because I've seen it in the mirror countless times.

I'm one to wear my emotions and almost every thought on my sleeve. I'm an open book. Probably too open. But as I felt the fog of Depression creeping back into my life, my reaction was to close that book to others. I want people to see the happy, loving. silly and fun-loving Mindi. I don't want the dark and twisty Mindi to be known to anyone, including myself. To share this feels shameful and embarrassing. Like I've done something wrong. I'm not praying hard enough, not thinking of others, being selfish or just not focusing on the positive or not exercising enough. But truth be told, that's all bull crap. You can be doing all of that and still get slammed with Depression for no other reason than a chemical imbalance.

I remember the day Robin Williams died. I cried. I sobbed. I cried for him that he felt so hopeless that he felt it was his only choice. I cried for his family and the turmoil they had to be going through. But I mostly cried because I knew exactly how he felt. That was when I knew things were getting bad and I needed to get help but I still put it off. It was after getting together with some friends and I knew I was acting weird and I said something that I knew you just really aren't supposed to say about dying (I can't remember what it was now) and the fact that I wanted to be in a dark room alone instead of with some of my favorite people. I finally got the courage and called my doctor.

I was so afraid to get back on medication because it was so hard to get off it and all I could remember from taking it was some of the side effects that I did not want again. I will be the first to tell you that antidepressants have literally saved my life a couple times now but I did not want to go back to it. Before I started taking them again I was driving and listening to one of my favorite songs. I don't know about anyone else but I can feel a song. A good song can take over and I can feel every emotion the song is expressing from my head to my toes (I know, crazy). I was feeling this song and I came home to ElRey and just sobbed worrying about being able to feel emotions like that (antidepressants can sometimes make you feel numb to emotions).

I just couldn't carry the burden alone any longer. I needed my pleas for help to be heard by speaking up. I was carrying a Santa Claus size sack of rocks that made the simplest action seem too much. Waking up and trying to talk myself into getting out of bed, caring one tiny bit about homework, fighting with myself to even shower. A pile of dishes in the sink..on the counter...scattered on the table could send me back to my bed sobbing. The only reason I could even get my kids to school was I knew if I didn't, they'd be here wanting my attention that I could barely give. I needed to actually see my kids, hear my husband, be present in my rich and beautiful life. I just couldn't do it on my own anymore.

I got in with my doctor about a week before I was supposed to run the marathon I had been training all summer for. I was so deep in it that I didn't even want to run it. I was having a problem with my foot and I was seriously considering just not doing it. I knew that once I had things under control I would be very mad at myself for not doing it so I was hoping that if I got on meds really quick, my desire to do it would be strong enough to get me there. Thanks to my awesome insurance, it took a few more days to get it started and when the night before the race came, I was totally fine if I "accidentally" slept through my alarm.

Despite it all, I made it there. Thanks to help from a friend and another Dr, I had my foot under control (not anything else, mind you) and I lined up at the starting line. I couldn't believe what a great run I had! The nice thing about running is no matter what's going on all you can think about is putting one foot in front of the other. And french fries. But that's it. Everything else melts away. So for a few hours I was free from my sack of rocks. I honestly feel like that day was a gift from God. I got through it and accomplished a goal even with all the mountains and struggles I had along the way. It wasn't all rainbows and butterflies from that day on. In fact, after my other marathons I've lived on the high for weeks, even months but this time it was more of a, "oh good, I got that done. Finally." But I'm ok with that because I didn't give up and I will always be proud of that.

It's not 'perfect' yet but I am getting there. I cheer for myself on the days I stay out of my bed, when I get some exercise, when I laugh with my family, when I witness the beauty around me, when I buckle down and clean my house. I still have days I cannot seem to do more than binge watch Netflix and I'm hoping those days will become fewer and far between. I have amazing people around me cheering me on and loving me even when I'm a being a tool and I am grateful beyond words for their love and support! I don't know how or why I've been so blessed!

So why am I writing this down? I don't really know. I haven't felt this inspired to write in a very long time. I've been trying to fall asleep for hours but this just kept pestering me until I found myself hunched over my laptop. This isn't something I'm proud of so I'm not eager to shout it from the mountaintops. Maybe it's just for me, just something I needed to let spill from my messed up head through my fingers, a release. Or maybe there is someone reading this and it helps you realize that no matter what that dark voice in your head is telling you, no matter how trapped you may feel in that dark cell in your mind and heart you are not alone. There is always help. I had to tell myself that the only way someone will know that I need help is if I speak up. No matter how ugly it feels just go ahead and whisper it, scream it, write it but just get help!

Now don't worry, I'm getting it worked out. I'm being more vocal with ElRey and loved ones so they know where I am in this. I'm not so afraid to be my own advocate anymore. I don't want people wondering if they should take sharp objects from me or if I'm going to randomly break down and cry. I'm working through it and it's getting much better. This doesn't define me even if it is a part of me. I'm learning to not only have more compassion for those around me but more compassion for myself. I have hope that the light blasting through the darkness will get brighter, stronger and that darkness will become a mere pinprick in my soul. Things seem to get brighter everyday.

GOOD Night

I tend to start the day feeling overwhelmed with what's on my plate. Its just an endless list of things needing to be done and I always feel 20 steps behind. And to top it off, I have an energetic and demanding 3 year old at my feet all the time. And to be clear, she doesn't give a darn about that stupid list.

The day ends in a similar fashion, I'm still overwhelmed and even more frustrated at what hasn't been done or did get done only for me to do it all over again.

But today was a little different.  As I lay my head down to go to sleep, I still have lots to do, the list is still endless,  but I'm going to bed satisfied with what I did with my day. I see the tan on my arms from getting a great run in when I thought for sure it wouldn't be happening. I see that each child did their chores with little fuss, piano got practiced after only having to ask twice, and we had a nice time as a family tonight. Lots of smiles, laughter and soul exploding love for these people I call "family".

As I relish in my day knowing that list is still hovering over me, all I can picture is me dancing away with my little girl in the middle of a shoe store to the beat of "Billy Jean" without a care in the world.

I will fall asleep with a smile on my face and joy in my heart.

Just another reminder that God is good and He is ever present with a loving hand in my life.

Empathy

I feel a lot.

Sometimes I wish I could just numb the 'feelings' part of my brain(and the "I really like food" part of my brain but that's a different post).

I'm like a sponge taking on the feelings or attributes of those around me. Even the characters in a book or movie. When I saw the movie "Return to Me" many years ago, I cried for three days. Pretty sure my husband was ready to call the Paddy Wagon. I read a book series about people living during the Ice Age and I suddenly wanted a lot of herbal tea and a hankering for mammoth meat. My mom has told me several times that I need to be careful with what I read because I take on any darkness, sadness or light I may read. Needless to say, I avoid Virginia Woolf after I made the mistake of reading Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. I've gotten better at compartmentalizing what I read or watch but I still can feel any darkness creeping in and I have to read something light, funny or spiritual for a while.

I can put myself in someone else's shoes with relative ease which tends to put me in uncomfortable situations. At girls camp one year, we were doing an over night back packing trip and I shared a tent with my best friend. That night it rained like there was an ark nearby and my friends sleeping bag got soaked. I hate being cold and wet so I told her she could share mine. She was very little. So we squeezed into my sleeping bag but guess what. I am ridiculously claustrophobic so it wasn't long before I freed myself from my own personal hell into another personal hell. I was wet, cold and wide awake all night. My friend slept great.

I cannot watch the news because I just can't handle all the ugliness. A friend posted a video that showed a woman beating her baby. I'm not kidding. she was beating. A baby. It was a "share this so we can find this woman and bring her to justice" kind of posts. I watched a little bit and cried. All day. Because there was nothing I could do for this baby and knowing she was not the only one living that life was more than I could bear.

If one of my kids gets their heartbroken, my heart is broken. I've been known to be upset and crying
long after they have gotten over it. My oldest has already been in some tough situations and every time she has had to deal with these things at such a young age, I break down. Even dealing with the recent issue, I couldn't talk to her without bawling about it.

I know, I'm a total blast.

It kinda makes me feel a little nuts sometimes. It's not a constant thing, I am usually pretty mellow. I contemplate taking antidepressants almost every month just to tone down the feelings so maybe I can handle these moments a little better. I wouldn't say I was depressed (and, trust me, I have been down that very dark and scary road before) but I can get so weighed down by it all that I just want to crawl into a dark hole and be left alone so I don't have to feel. It's times like this that I am very grateful I haven't taken up drinking. I honestly think I would be a drunk.

The awesome thing about feeling so much is the joy. When I have joy, it's a taste of pure heaven! When I can take a moment to stop worrying about EVERYTHING and feel nothing but that moment, it almost makes the heavier times worth it. Like the times I find myself in a place that is so beautiful it takes my breath away. Having a successful and fun outing with the family. A genuine spiritual experience shared with my family. Or an honest and open conversation with my husband over a quiet dinner together. Laughing at something funny a kid has done or said. Watching the pure joy on my baby's face as we play with bubbles or she sees an airplane in the sky, a horse, a flower.

As I laid in bed last night, feeling way more than I could handle, I thought of someone else Who felt way more than any of us could ever handle. I thought of My Savior Jesus Christ as He took on the pains, sins, sorrows and anguish of the world. And He did it all alone while his friends slept. He plead with The Father that this burden may be removed from Him, knowing full well He was the only one that could do it. An angel was sent to hold Him and strengthen Him, but He had to go it alone. The pain was so much, He bled from every pore. After this very long night, He was betrayed by a friend, taken, tried, whipped and hung on a cross by those who didn't understand.(Luke 22:41-23:46)

He did all this for me. And for you. Because of that, He knows my pains, my struggles and He can be my Angel holding me, strengthening me. He didn't pick and choose what He'd take on, He didn't say, "that person does not deserve this", He didn't shut it down when it became too much. He did it all. For each and every one of us.

He knows my name and I all I have to do is ask. He doesn't care about what I did or didn't do, about what I wear or the stupid things I say. He loves me no matter what. And He will take it on with me. He has taken it on for me.

And for that I am eternally grateful.

And then there was...so many!!

I love my kids.

I mean, just look at 'em!

Yup, I made those! Well, ElRey helped, too.

I was blessed with awesome kids.

I know many people that have five, six, even eight kids and I admire them and think they are amazing because they can take that on, but, I tell you what: four girls is A LOT! My friend, who also has four kids, and I have a running joke that four feels like too many because it IS too many! Each child demands special attention and when you're the only parent around to give that, most of the time, it can become very overwhelming. It's overwhelming when both parents are tag teaming the attention, too. Mostly parenting is overwhelming. Period.

Case in point: The other morning I was working on getting everyone ready for school, which is always super fun. This particular morning I had one kid that needed to shower and I happened to be using the bathroom. In the one and only working bathroom in our house. There was another daughter who also needs to use the bathroom IMMEDIATELY. So, I finish my 'bidnes', one daughter is getting in the shower and the other is hoping around in the hallway. I say, "I'm done, I'm just washing my hands. You can go now."
       "But I want everyone out of the bathroom," she says.
       "Sorry but your sister needs to shower. You're just going to have to go while she's in here," I say.
She continues to hop around but now adds whimpering and a whiny moan to her routine.
      "Babe," I say with as much early morning patience I can muster, "If you gotta go, go! There's no such thing as privacy in our home so just go!"

That's when I leave her to move on to other attempts at getting them all ready for school and get myself ready for my run immediately after they go. So I'm trying to make my shake and my two year old is 'helping' me. As she goes to shake up the blender to get things moving, she kind of knocks it off the spinner (I'm getting technical now!)a little so it makes this really loud sound and as I'm running back in to fix it and console the now crying baby, my other daughter starts bawling because she's pretty sure she deleted "Flappy Bird" and can't get it back now. So, I'm holding my baby, trying talk my one daughter 'off the ledge', hollering to the others to hurry and get dressed with one asking where her leggings are in a panic because she simply cannot wear anything but leggings, while the showered one stands there in the middle of the living room, in her towel 'air drying' (because why would we use a towel to dry off? While still in the bathroom? That's weird.) We're down to about 20 minutes before we have to leave and we're searching for shoes and amputating limbs brushing hair, suddenly the two year old has to go potty and she couldn't possibly go on her own, she needs her mother there to watch and then cheer her on only to have the child say, "hmphf" at my praise and I'm trying to guzzle my shake wishing it was a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit.

When I finally get the older ones to school and successfully stayed out of McDonald's drive thru, it takes everything in me to not crawl back into bed. I don't always win that battle.

We won't even talk about about that fun thing called 'homework'.

Now, I wouldn't trade places with anyone. Except maybe that beach bum I saw in Laguna Beach. I bet his life is awesome but I couldn't imagine my life any other way.

I am pretty sure that when my kids found out they were coming to me, they were hoping for a mom that didn't wake up like a bear being disturbed way before her hibernation is over only to discover someone ate the last salmon. Or a mom that didn't forget what they just told her 20 minutes ago. And maybe a mom that didn't eat all the goodies while they were at school. I'm pretty sure they thought they would get a mom that would never ever dance like a dork at red lights while Katy Perry sings about a lion or something.

But I was planning on kids that brought me breakfast in bed at noon that did all my chores, did drink runs for me and braided my hair while the other one rubbed my feet and another gave me a manicure.

So, yeah, a lot of dreams have died.

But even though there is just waaaaay too many of us in our small house and there's a lot of screaming and crying (mostly ElRey ;) ), we're doing our best to make a happy home.

One scream/tantrum/bawl fest at a time.

Why is there a wet towel on the living room floor??

Thank you very much!

Gratitude is a funny thing. I've noticed that if you have a feeling of gratitude about you, life is awesome even when it's not. But if you are lacking in that department, life is just a flaming poo bag on your porch. You can't even see the glorious sunset or hear your children giggling in the house as they play, all you see is a flaming bag of poo.

I've always considered myself a positive and mostly grateful person. I see the glass half full, I *usually* see the good in others, or at least try really really hard. I even hate giving a bad review on a book, movie, event or whatever because there is always something good I can squeeze out of it. I can't even think of a person I hate or wish harm towards. I have people that annoy the living daylights out of me but I still try to see the good in them.

I hate to admit it but something has changed over my adult and less carefree life that has left me a little darker, a little bitter and, way more often than I want, a lot more grumpy. Sure, crap has happened. You can't have 4 kids, a house and a life without having to go through hard times. I think the biggest culprit in my life has been realizing I'm just not as amazing as I just knew I would be taking on the adventures of adulthood and family life. You know how when you were single/before kids/at the beginning of your career you just knew you were going to be the best darn spouse/parent/professor this world has ever seen and then you find yourself in the middle of it thinking,  "I really don't know what the hell I am doing!" We've all done that.. I hope.. Or I really am a big lonely idiot! Life isn't one big Full House episode where you fix the problem within 30 minutes while cheesy music swells in the background and Jesse's standing there flexing and making that mullet look so very right.

Accepting this reality and adjusting my perspective and expectations has been tough for me. I most often feel like I'm failing at something, most things, everything. Somewhere along the way I have allowed this negativity to take over. Sure, I've always been good at whining, but I could  always come out of it and it was rainbows and butterflies all over again. But lately it sticks around longer. It has festered. It has changed me. And I hate it. You know what I hate about it the most? My life is pretty awesome! I have everything I have ever wanted and more(except for the unicorn I'm still holding out for)! I see manifestations of God's never ending love for me daily, even though I don't always deserve it. But here I often sit, mumbling "humbug"  and ignoring the good life around me and focusing on the mess, the screaming baby, the smaller house or the lack of a unicorn in my life.

It's easy to see the beauty around and be grateful for what I have when I'm out goofing off with my friends, on a date with my husband or out on a fabulous run, enjoying the scenery. It's when I'm in the thick of it that I lose the ability to see the good. When I'm playing referee, cleaning up another mess or someone else is crying about some 'injustice', I want to crawl into a hole and count the ways I'm doing everything wrong. Thew sane part of my brain tells me that's just life with kids and we'll get through it but the batpoopcrazy part of my brain tells me I have somehow ruined everything and everybody and I fester. So I've been working on it. Trying to bring Grateful Mindi back. I fall back into bad habits. A lot.

For example, I have been seriously concerned with how my kids have been acting lately. They are mean to each other and often treat ElRey and me like crap. We take stuff away, we lecture, we yell but it just doesn't seem to get better. And I was telling them that. I was trying to figure out ways to have a more positive approach to it by pointing out when they do something kind or follow instructions the first time but I still felt so grumpy about my 'broken' kids. We went to a leadership night program at their school the other night and as I was waiting my turn at the cookie table, one of our favorite teachers approached me and said, "I couldn't let you leave tonight without telling you how amazing your kids are! They are so respectful and kind and smart. I love each of them! Your oldest comes to my kindergarten class as a "buddy" and she is so good with her little buddy. Most of the six grade buddies come in a just goof off. She is kind to her buddy and helps her stay on task. I love when she comes to my class! I just wanted you to know how proud you should be of your kids. You guys have done such a great job!" I about collapsed in her arms crying! I knew in that moment my Heavenly Father was reminding me how awesome my kids are and that I'm doing okay. Sure, we can all work on how we treat one another at home but when they are out in the world they are all the things I want them to be! From that moment on I promised myself I would do all I can to see the good in my kids no matter how frustrated I may get in a situation.

There is progress. I know I am getting better at it. Slowly.

 This was a bad day.My heart was hurting for my daughter who was experiencing some tough changes in her world. Usually, I would wallow in my sadness seeing only this tiny moment in our lives, making it big and dark and ugly. Instead I gathered everyone up, packed a bag and threw on swimsuits and went searching for this 'beach' I had heard about in the next town over and we had one of the best days ever. Just me and my girls. My daughter survived the changes, she's thriving and all has turned out well. Plus, she totally cracks me up!

 Mornings can be really rough around here. By the time I get them to school, I'm ready for a nap or a donut. Or both. I'm still trying to figure out how to make it better but it tends to be one long fight and me saying, "Have a good day. I love you." through gritted teeth. One morning as baby and I got out of the car, it had started snowing lightly. To watch her catch snowflakes was like watching pure joy in action. It almost made me cry. That moment took away all the frustrations of the morning.

I am a living, breathing jungle gym for my kids. I really really really love my personal space and, apparently, so do they. It often irritates me to be touched and climbed on so very much. I know that the day is not far away when I won't have this happening any longer so I try to suck it all up and enjoy it. One day I was busy being this child's 'footstool' and instead of getting incredibly annoyed, I grabbed my phone to document it. It was so cute how she was perched on my shoulders like that. The back pain wasn't so cute but, whatever.

My two oldest take piano from my awesome friend. Getting them to practice each day is a battle. Heck, to just get them to practice 2 or 3 times a week is a freaking miracle that took some serious war tactics just to make it happen. I want to pull them out constantly because it's just one more fight in my life. But then recital time comes. It takes place at a music store where they play on this beautiful Steinway grand piano. When my kids get up there and play the song they've worked so hard on, all the fights and contention disappear. All of it becomes worth it. Until the next practice day..;)

I am a work in progress. 

Furry Pain in the Neck

After filling our postage-stamp-sized house with 4 little girls, we thought it would be brilliant to get a dog.

Yeah, brilliant.

For some reason my will to keep us dog free was waning. I had never had a dog growing up and secretly always wanted one. So I started looking around online for free dogs. I did this for weeks before I even told my husband. The moment I told him, he was on board and looking, too. I got on the site one day and there she was. Begging me with her big chocolate brown eyes to come save her.

"Help me, Mindi Jeppson, you're my only hope!"

I knew she was mine. She was my kind of dog. Apparently "my kind of dog" is one with ADHD that sheds so much fur, I could make a blanket. For a giant who isn't worried about allergies. If we could read her mind, all we'd hear is, "Play?! PLAY?! HEY!! I'M GONNA SNIFF THAT DOG'S BUTT AND THEN TRY TO LICK YOUR FACE! PLAY?!"

I have discovered that she loves to run. She gets going so fast that she can't stop herself and knocks you over. I've been knocked on my butt and my 6 year old caught some serious air when she plowed into her.

That mutt be crazy!

In an attempt to burn off some of that crazy energy, I started to be dragged down the street by her taking her running with me. It takes about 15-20 minutes before she calms down enough for me to put my shoulder back into socket, catch a breath and stop yelling, "WHOA!WHOA!!WHOA!!!NO!NO!NOOO!!" That's usually when I stop seeing spots and can actually focus on not tripping.

It's good times.

For a little while I was going early in the morning. I swear she could here my alarm better than I could. I'd try to sneak into the bathroom to get ready and she'd immediately start whining and jumping in her kennel! If she sees me in anything that looks remotely like workout clothes, she immediately starts jumping all over me and running up and down the stairs, knocking small people over. She sees the leash? Watch. Out.

"Where we go?! Go fast?! CATS!!"

 My friends and I were headed out for a run the other day and there she was in her spazzy glory while we just all laughed at her "hopped up on tasty cats full of catnip" craziness. I started doing my best impression of her (It's epic, I tell you) when I felt a sudden pain in my neck. I figured it would let up as I went but it just got worse. By the time I got home, I could barely move my head and I could feel my shoulders tensing up. I was down for a freaking week with a pinched nerve in my neck.

Because I mocked my spaz of a dog.

I finally got relief a week later when I dragged myself to the Dr where he gave me a couple shots in my neck. Shots in my freaking neck.

Because of my freaking spaz of a dog.

Okay, because of a spazzy old lady mocking her freaking spaz dog.

My 2 two-year-olds. One of them is house trained and it ain't the one in undies.

So, if you see us running down the street, one of us with our tongue flapping in the wind and the other screaming with arms flailing, just know that I may be running to my death.