Learning as I go: Mentors, PTSD, and Letting Go

     I have the worst concentration lately. It feels like my ADHD brain is working in overdrive. Between this past Monday and tomorrow I will have had nine appointments and a number of little errand stops before and after those appointments and this is how it has been for the last three weeks, non-stop save for Saturday and Sundays. Today was so nice, I got a text from todays appointment to let me know that they were understaffed, they asked if I wanted to keep the appointment as a telehealth and I asked if we could just cancel it and resume our normal schedule next week. I was so excited to get to do laundry! This afternoon I got a call from my husband to tell me that his work was looking for me about an application I had filed months ago for a part time weekend clerk position, they sent me an email so now I have an appointment tomorrow which makes nine this week.

  One of my appointments this week was a mentor appointment. We are utilizing the services of an organization in our city that does a bit of everything for mental health. My son gets a mentor to teach him life skills and help him with daily activities and school and I get a parent support mentor. This is a new program for the organization. I met with my mentor this week and it was so nice to have adult conversation. We did six laps on the walking path around the nursing home next to my house and just talked. I don't think I have gone walking with anyone since Christmas mall walking with my ex-coworker three years ago and he is so much younger than me and a man. This mentor is a woman just a few months older than me and her son is also Autistic so she totally understands me when I complain about Gideons complaints. The more I talk about my struggles, the more I notice people responding, not all good responses but the ones that are, really are. People who have similar struggles with themselves or a loved one but are too afraid to talk about it. The fear is the stigma, the labels, the assumptions that other people make about us and our families. It is such an amazing blessing that we live in a day and age where mentor programs like this are available to help both parents and children navigate mental health challenges. 

   Something I learned, long ago, when my husband got sick with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is that a decision is between 2 choices and both choices come at different prices, we don't decide between a right and wrong choice, we decide which price we are willing to pay. The right decision may be the one with the higher price tag but we choose it because it's the right way to go in the situation. Sometimes the price is just too high so we chose the lower cost and often make the wrong decision. Sometimes the right decision is right because the cost is low. So many variables. I have made choices in my life that were the right choices but the cost was so high that I was left broken of heart and soul. If the prices were dollars and cents we would simply take out a credit card but these costs are not so easy as money, not so tangible. The price is a part of your being, your inner self, what makes you, you, a piece of your spirit. The choice often falls to the worth of the other person in your inner most soul. What is your husband worth to you, what is your child worth to you, your wife, your boy/girl friend, sibling, parent, etc?

 More often than not, the price of doing the right thing by your loved one who is struggling cuts you deep, affects you in a way you never dreamed possible and it always, always hurts. That piece that gets cut out of you, aches. Sometimes it does grow back but never in the same shape that was cut. Nothing stays the same, burned bridges can be rebuilt but the integrity changes. 

In the last 16 years I have been cut in almost every way a person can be cut. My body bears both physical and hidden scars from all the pieces taken from my spirit over the years, all the decisions, all the consequences, all the prices of those decisions. I hurt all the time and until these past few months, there has been no antiseptic, no sweet balm to ease the pain. 

Gods people should not have to endure these things alone!

I hope someone learns from my story. There is absolutely no reason why I should have struggled as badly as I have these past 16 years, none. For a very long time I took the blame for my husbands PTSD, I took the blame for my childrens oddities, for their "episodes" I had myself convinced that I was a terrible wife, a horrible mother, a failure, that God was punishing me for being so bad at my job of being a good wife and mother. I believed this so much that in the last 16 years I grew so depressed that I not only attempted suicide at least a dozen times but also had an episode that was very stroke like. I masked, I put on a smile in front of everyone, I did the things, went the places, put my kids in the "right" places, activities, I did everything that was expected of a good Christian wife and mother regardless of the stabbing pain in my soul. The pain was conviction, I was lying through my teeth and eventually I couldn't keep it up, my body grew weary. This is not the weary that comes from well-doing, its the weary of trying to be everything for everyone but neglecting your own spiritual and mental well being. So, I took the advice of others and read my Bible more, I studied more, I participated more, I prayed more and you know what happened.....I was miserable. On top of being miserable I felt guilty for being miserable, like I was failing God and the guilt depressed me. 

One day I was sitting at my desk, I had read my Bible perhaps for the first time in months, I was just so depressed and I came to this sad but freeing conclusion.....

.........NO ONE CARES......

No one cares if I pray, no one cares how much I read my Bible, no one cares how much I am in church or not, no one cares about my husband, no one cares about my kids, no one cares about our daily lives, the people I thought cared about me, about us....Don't... Then a another new thought, do I care about them and if so, what is the extent? I sat down with a pen and paper and listed everyone I actually cared about, everyone I check on, every one I write a note to, pray for, think about daily and you know what happened, it was a very short list. If my list is that short then so are the lists of other people and thats OK, I had to reconcile in my mind that its OK. In fact, its better than OK because if the lists of others is also short than they are concentrating on their own families, their own sphere of influence. Its a good thing. Sort of, we have to be careful that we don't become so self centered that we care not at all for the feelings and lives of others. Beware of extremes. 

...MIND....BLOWN....

So, I stopped for a few months. I stopped caring so much, I limited my field of care to those in my house. I stopped caring about all the "Karens" all the "Chads" the government, whats happening in the world, the people in the church, the people at work, the residents at work were residents at work, not family, I needed to stop caring about them because loving them was hurting me, the school, the neighborhood, what people thought about my family, how they treated us, I just quit. Talk about FREEDOM! 

Bob Newheart said it best, "STOP IT!"

Only after I quit things started falling into place. I stopped actively trying to make things better, rather I let events unfold in their natural way. My husband saw the damage his PTSD did to us over the years, I stopped hiding it from him. My oldest son saw that he has anger issues over those PTSD years, I stopped talking him down from his anger moments. My middle son, he needed help, I stopped trying to give it to himself and I asked for help from people who could actually help, I stopped leaning on church, stopped using church as a crutch and I am not ashamed that I went to the world for help, I was drowning and the secular world threw me a lifeline, I took it. There is an old joke about a man in a flash flood sitting on his roof praying to the Lord for help and the Lord sent him a helicopter, a boat and a another means, I forget what it was and as he is drowning he asked God, "why didnt you help me!" God replied, "I tried but you never accepted" I realized, I was the man in that joke.

Another lesson I learned is that I have to stop being what I think other people want me to be and I have to be myself. I love 80s music, I like secular books but I still hate cuss words and sex in books, I like movies with a good romance scene because PTSD has made the romance disappear from my life and those scenes keep me from turning to stone, I despise gossip, I have tried other versions of the Bible and I still think KJV is the best translation but I dont care what you read. I dont care who you sleep with, I just dont want to hear about it. I like tattoos, I want one, a phoenix because I die daily and rise from the ashes. I hate it when people talk to me but I let them because some people don't feel good about themselves until they cut a smaller person down, I make them feel strong by being weak and frankly, I dont care if people yell at me, I am so used to being talked down to, my husband has PTSD, humiliation is a friend of mine. I will cry but that just a bodily reaction. Most women cry when they are being yelled at. Believe it or not, I get lectured and "corrected" A LOT, in one ear and out the other now-a-days. I just dont care anymore. Here is a fun one-All of my kids know "Jennys number...867-5309" 

 My kids are not saved, they are not pretending to be either. They are not perfect little church kids and the reason for that is because, thats how I was raised and it is stifling. I was raised IFB in the strictest sense and thats not the life I want for my kids. I want a relationship with them and when they do come to Christ, everyone will know because they will see the changes. My kids see me read my Bible, they see me pray, they see how I dress, they see how calm I am in a pinch, they watch me and I pray for them. I will not force religion on them though, I want them to want Christ for themselves and I want them to have Christ the way I do, I want them to know liberty, to know what freedom is, to live a life unbound by liberalism.

It is OK to ask for help. It is OK to seek someone outside of your church for help. It is OK to take care of yourself. It is OK to let go of other peoples expectations...

It is OK to Learn as you Go

Learning as I go: A Parent who does NOT Believe in Perfection

Just because both parents are saved, doesnt mean the children are/were raised in a Christian home.

I have been thinking about this one long and hard. If the children are/were raised in a Christian home, born and bred, what kind of home was it? Until recently Baptists all over the US bought long and hard into legalism, fear based Christianity. Like the Amish, a set of unwritten or exaggerated rules a child must live by in order to not make God angry and from God to your parents who always punished "The Bible way" you know, spare the rod spoil the child. Or, your parents would guilt you and pressure you into obedience.
I have found from observation, research, many conversations that a staggering amount of Millennials, later Gen Xers and even early Gen Z'rs have left the church entirely because they learned, on their own, that kind of Christianity is false doctrine so they throw the baby out with the bathwater and give up on God entirely.
Yes, there are things that as Christians, we shouldn't do, however doing those things isn't going to send you to hell and shouldn't send you to the eternal wrath of the church. If you do something stupid as a teenager it should not affect how people treat you in your 20s-30s-40s, if the Police has a statute of limitations you would think the church could too and it shouldn't be 7yrs.
.

Back to the OG thought. Since I don't know anyone else's mental health because Baptists just don't go there or they are all flawless, one or the other. I will use my family as an example. I am not angry at anyone but fighting legalism in Baptist churches is a hill I will die on and if you know what I have endured these last 17 years, you will completely understand.

Zach and I grew up in an IFB church, we are not angry over this, there is no animosity, no hatred, nothing of the sort. In fact, being raised in that strict environment did save us from some things, it did have its good side. My parents are not bad people, they did the best they could with who they had for a daughter. They were promised, spoken or understood I don't know, that if they abide by certain "scriptural rules" that not only would I be saved and baptized but I would go on to marry well and live happily ever after. No trials, no tribulations, smooth sailing. There are even songs that promote that ideal. Again, I am not angry at my parents, the pastor, anyone, it was a common belief in the 80s-early 00s preached by men like Jack Hyles and Peter Ruckman, Johnny Pope etc.. of "famous preachers"
The older we got we started to question whether or not these things were scripture and whether or not they were in context. Were we just buying into what our elders told us was true? I had results from doing things the IFB way, I was incredibly well versed in Scripture, entire chapters of the Bible, trivia, sword drills, theology, apologetics, by the time I was 11 I could talk a Mormon missionary out of his religion and I did, more than once. They stopped knocking on our door after a while. Same with JWs. I was ruthless and I love it. I loved a good theological debate. My parents did not watch "bad movies" or read "bad books" or listen to particularly bad music. Far as they knew I was a semi well behaved little Christian homeschooler. I hated being homeschooled, hated it with a passion. My world was so small and I wanted to be around other kids my age. I had a few friends, older and younger but not anyone who could match me in conversation. Some talked down to me, some talked up to me, most just thought I was a stupid girl and girls cant preach or girls cant know anything about Bible, at least, not as much as a boy can or does. Girls are just supposed to stay quiet, cook and clean and take care of kids and animals, that's what girls did. Finding someone in my circle who could debate me was impossible. Then, all I knew was the Baptists way. I didn't learn much about any other religion until I moved to Alabama in my 20s. Zach's first real experience with another religion was in Alabama, he met a family who took him to a Pentecostal church. He was culture shocked to say the least.
Kids raised in a "Christian home" tend to have blind faith, not the kind in Christ but the kind that, they don't know any different. They aren't choosing Salvation, they are raised to Salvation and when they get out on their own and have experiences, they tend to fall away into another gospel whether the worlds or religions. How is this any different than what we accuse the LBGT-XYZ people of doing? Its not, you are forcing someone, by proximity to agree with you. Only with Baptists, if they don't agree with you, you shut them out, label them as "toxic" or "contradictory" or you "mark them" according to Scripture and avoid them (this passage was often taken out of context and used as "church discipline" in the IFB era).
I understand that I just backed myself into a corner because I think its good to be raised in a truly Christian home. However, a truly Christian home is a strict place, no TV, no music other than certain kinds, no going to certain places, no this, no that, do this, do that, don't read this, only read that etc....Zach and I tried this method, we wanted our kids to be safe, to find the worlds ways weird but then, that ideal came crashing down in 2 days with 2 events that nearly destroyed us and indeed broke us. We decided then and there that for our kids, its better for them to know their enemy. We have taught our kids the worlds ways, how they think, what they do. We didn't know that Zach would get sick, that Gideon would develop AuDHD, that Eddie would struggle with ADHD. We thought, because we were promised that if we did everything right, our kids would turn out well but instead the house of cards we built is still falling after 16 years.
Get this straight, you can raise your kids in a Christian home and still not see them saved as kids. When my kids do get saved, people are going to know it, there will be a visible change, it will be a night and day experience. Gods word doesn't return void, as long as the Word is in the home, the kids will come back to God.

Unless you are following all of those out of context over exaggerated rules can you really say you are raising your kids in a Christian Home? Also consider that a Christian home has a father (or father figure) and a mother (or mother figure) and everyone is present, no one is distracted by devices or the cares of the world. The focus is on the family.

I actually envy people who have that. People who have never experienced a "big 'T'" trauma. Families who have a dad who is right with God all the time, who loves his kids, spends time with them after work, does activities with them, teaches them, does devotions with them. I envy that, I wish my kids kids had that, especially my older boys. Instead they got PTSD and a lot of misery that went with it and absolutely no support except for a mother who fought for them and continues to do so every day. I am not mad at my husband, not at all. He taught me how to get through what I can't get over. I am strong because of him, I am wise because of him, he taught me what battles are worth fighting and what battles to leave to God. I have fought long and hard these 16 years, I am battle scarred, exhausted, done with this life, if God wanted to take me today, I wouldn't fight, I would go willingly and eagerly. I have taught my boys everything I want them to know, I have shown them with my life how to give God honor and glory in the trials, what the Christian life is without all the rules and with liberty. Now, I am waiting on God to get a hold of them, waiting for them to let go and let God. Every parent gets to that place. Parents of young people, you will get to that place. Your kids may make a profession young but they won't truly understand till they are old.. Don't rely on a profession to equal salvation.

Learning as I go: Radical School Ideas

 

   An interesting post landed on my Facebook feed about how teachers are expected to meet the needs of every child individually when every child has different educational needs. Its stressful on the teacher, naturally! 

As a parent with children in the public school system I have some thoughts, strong thoughts that not everyone agrees with.

I read an article in the local newspaper this morning about how our county wants to raise property tax 3% over our States allotted tax cap for a total of an 8% tax hike. They sighted community events as the reason for the need for the tax hike. Community events that were not around a decade ago. We live in a State with a pretty low tax bracket, we don't have very high taxes and that is a good thing. Low taxes help make it possible for younger people and people with less than stellar credit to buy a house, own property. We don't have fancy, big city amenities but we are comfortable with what we do have like nice roads and good drainage etc...I told my husband not long ago that when we lose our house, it won't be because we can't afford the mortgage, we will be taxed out. 

Here is my radical thoughts, go with me, have an open mind here:

Keep the cap on property taxes: That money is supposed to go towards schools, the fire station,  our one or maybe 2 little Libraries, snow removal, town roads and the parks. Google says that the taxes also go towards water resources but if thats the case than why is my water/garbage bill so crazy! Raising the property taxes won't do anything different, it will just give raises to people who make more than anyone else in the county already because they work for the government.

Put parents in the classrooms to alleviate the pressure on the teachers: Teachers are expected to teach up to 30 students at a time (our county is less than 30, a lot less) and all of these students are different. Different learners, different needs, different reading levels etc...Kids are not cookie cutter automatons, they are all different. We should encourage their differences by creating an educational environment where each child can thrive. I understand that most households have 2 working parents (thats a priority issue in our federal government) but those households who have a stay home paernt or those who are newly retired can help lighten the teachers load by sitting with a student or 3 and helping them individually on a rotating volunteer bases. Small groups, 1 lead teacher and some adult volunteers. Not only that but take education out of the classroom setting or gear the schools toward more active education, learning on their feet while moving. Hands on, get messy, make mistakes. Teach them practical things they NEED to know. Does a student need to know algebra, calculus, Physics on a high school level? Probably not, those who want to can do online college courses. Kids do need to know how to do taxes, how to buy and sell, add, subtract, multiply, divide, fractions, decimals, percent, practical math for every day use. They need to know how to create a proper sentence, the rules of grammar, how to use phonics to read. If schools brought phonics into the classroom kids wouldn't be stopping mid sentence in a speech in front of most of the school to say, "I don't know that word" before moving on. Science can be learned hands on and History can be costumes and stories. Teach them how to do things that are practical to where they live. We might have less ATV deaths and injuries, fewer farming accidents, more sheds and out buildings, more mechanics and machinists, bee keepers, more younger ranchers and farmers etc..if these kids who aren't from those families already could learn those trades from those families this State will become an economic powerhouse. Make it fun! Parent volunteers can help. Also a small tuition. Take Japan for example, the kids pay a small monthly tuition that covers the cost of supplies. Its small because its averaged out per student. A trustworthy parent volunteer can be put in charge of the treasury, teacher creates a list of needed supplies and parent volunteer team gets together and goes to purchase from Amazon, Target, Wallymart. Teachers can also put a supply list on Amazon for parents. Teach kids how to clean their own school. Each class cleans its own class room, middle and highschoolers split up those classrooms they use and bathrooms, they write what they did in a diary at the end of it, take turns then once a month they can all get together and have a cleaning party where they do the hallways, gyms and lockers. If everyone participates or most of everyone then the work goes fast and you wont need to pay for a janitor. Idealism right. Make it easier to become a volunteer, make it more inviting, something new parents to town want to do. 

We live in such a decadent Nation. Everyone takes, very few give. We need to change the culture on the State level. Teach our kids to be others minded instead of self involved. If we teach them to think about not just the feelings of others but the comfort of others as well, they will in turn feel good and be comforted. Less need for mental health diagnoses. Teach them town pride, taking care of something, being responsible for a job teaches them to take pride in work, gives them a worth ethic.

Learning as I go

Learning as I go-1

  I went outside to clean up our 4th of July garage party this morning, just in case I have to park the cars inside. We have a decent sized trash can for the garage and I made the mistake of using a yard debris bag instead of a regular trash bag in it then I filled it full of garage sale garbage. Heavy stuff. A yard debris bag is thinner than a garbage bag so I had to transfer all the garbage to the garbage bag. Like a normal person I secured the new bag onto the corners of the can and proceeded to tip the can over so all the trach falls into the new bag and it worked, so very well! I was shocked. Usually one corner pops off and garbage goes everywhere. So I am guiding the larger items into the new bag when quite suddenly I found myself on the concrete driveway. I didn't realize I was falling until my knees hit the driveway. My "bad" knee is a little worse for the wear and my palms hurt a little but I will live. Is that how elderly people fall? You just don't notice until the sudden pain. The beauty of being short is that I don't have far to fall.

Something cool I have noticed is that the closer I am to the Lord, the better my personal walk wit Him, the less likely I am to irrationally react to a situation. By nature I am not a panicky person, anyone that remembers the events with the twins at the lake when they were babies knows I don't panic. I stay so calm that my husband mistakes my calmness for apathy. I hear him say, "You should care about this!" all the time. What is my panic going to accomplish? Rule one of parenting and caregiving is, " If you make a big deal, they will make a big deal" If they fall and you freak out, they will learn that crying or falling gets bonus attention. Cute when kids are toddlers, not so much when they are preteens. Thing is, I do care, I care a lot, its just that in my soul I know that no matter what happens in this neighborhood, in this town, in this city, State, Country, continent, world GOD IS STILL ON THE THRONE and as long as He is, there is nothing that can touch me. Sure, I can fall but I will get back up. I can die in some horrible car accident but I will get back up in eternity.
There is no "ifs" with God, there is no, "I don't knows" with God, There is no, " I am not good enough" with God, He doesn't care about our goodness. Our goodness gets us to heaven about as well as blinker fluid makes the turn signals in a car work. Our righteousness is as filthy rags and you know what happens to filthy rags? They catch fire, burn up. Good works, bad works, all of it burns. The only things that last are what we do for God here on earth, the souls that we share the gospel with, thats it. Souls are eternal, they are the ONLY things that are eternal. Your spirit will die, your flesh will die, everything dies but the soul lasts. Wanna know why an elderly person with severe dementia can play the piano like Mozart from memory? Because music is not in the flesh, music is eternal, its in the soul. God created music so man can praise Him for eternity.

The original thought, I rabbit trailed, was about irrational thinking. The closer my walk with the Lord the less likely I am to use language unbecoming of a Christian. The less likely I am to go to places unbecoming of a Christian. The less likely I am going to seek out company unbecoming of a Christian and the more likely I am to make posts that give God honor and glory rather than rant and rave about my problems. I am an over transparent person, its a trauma coping strategy. Its not people pleasing, it looks like people pleasing but its a trauma response.
At first, I wanted people to understand my view, my trauma, I cried for help on social media, begged people for support they did not want to or could not provide. My world became so small.
It took a stroke to make me see that I was being irrational. I was reading my Bible, I was praying, I was at least live streaming church, working a full time job, giving literally everything I had every shift on that job, being everything to everyone, I cared for my house, fed my family, I was a good wife, a good mother, a good coworker, a good employee, on the outside, I looked good, my righteousness was getting me places, so I thought. Why was God allowing all this never ending trauma in my life, it did not seem fair or just. I felt like I was missing the train every day, standing on the platform just watching it go by and never getting on.
Inside I was angry. Trauma was eating me alive. A tiny feather set me off. It took one person, one death, to blow my top. It was a significant death, someone I thought had already been dead 30 years and I had buried deep in the recesses of my mind. One phone call, one question, one irrational over reaction. My top blew like Mt. St. Helens. Manic high, I went to work so high, flying like a free spirited eagle in the air, I was so manically happy over this mans death. No one questioned it, no one asked me anything. When someone is that visibly happy, that naturally high, there is usually something going on underneath. Manic high is a rush of the same chemicals you get from being drug induced high. All those happy "N" chemicals.
What always follows a manic high like that is an even deeper, manic low. Like the Mariana Trench of lows. The pressure is 16,000 pounds per square inch. You feel it in your ears, eyes, head, everything hurts. It feels like your head is about to implode physically and mentally. This is where people commit suicide, the pressure is intense. Manic high usually last a few hours, I can get through 3/4 of a work shift in a manic high but a manic low hits hard and fast and makes you sick right away. The bottom drops out.
I stroked out sitting at my dining room table. I wasn't doing anything, just sitting there playing with a crumb with my back to Zach who was sitting right where I am now, nearly a straight view to the table. I was in a manic low. My head was pounding, my heart was throbbing, the pain was searing like someone had ran a blade through my ear and out the top of my skull. I fell over, passed out onto the chair next to the one I was sitting in and no one in my house noticed. It became a day of no one caring, one person cared but she was it, she's the one that said that it looked like I was having a stroke. No one called 911, no one rushed me to anywhere.
I was angry, at first, then I was sad, no one cared. I still get overwhelmed sometimes by the sadness, I try not to dwell on it. Apparently God cared because I am still here and I have most of my mental and physical straignth back with some lasting reminders. I am a lot slower now physically and mentally, my eyes are droopy, I have Lymphedema in my legs and above my eyes, my eyes aged 30 years according to Dr. Woodmansee whom I see biyearly.
At first I was angry at everyone who saw me that day, everyone who wasn't paying attention, I could have acted very irrationally and I would have been justified in the anger. However, there is no point. What's done is done, what happened to me I pray is a lesson to everyone who was involved. Young people can have strokes.

It doesn't matter if you are a man or a woman, we all have emotions. We all have the ability to over react, to be irrational, make snap judgements but as a Christian, as someone who professes to be born again, blood bought, Bible believing, we are not justified in our overreactions.