So, I've been thinking. Okay, really, I haven't, but it sounded good.
I love to write. I write about anything and everything and sometimes nothing at all. Today I have nothing to say. But I want to say something. I just don't know what.
My eyes have kind of been opened in the last few weeks. This will probably sound absurd to some of you, it does to me, but I'm just now beginning to realize the extent of the damage my childhood has caused. I've been on Anti-Depressants since I was 15. I've always been "depressed". I really hate that word as it always seems very cliche and it's overused. But, that's technically what it is. Depression. When I was 19 I was diagnosed Bipolar, which really wasn't shocking as my mother and her mother are both bipolar. But that stuff wasn't that big of a deal. I'd grown up around bipolar people. It was the norm for us. I just dealt.
But I'm really dealing with something more than that right now. Something confusing and scary and it's really a pain, to be honest. Up until a few years ago, I didn't even know what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was. I had no clue. And even when I started therapy and we talked about it, I never really put that label on me. I never really accepted the fact that I had PTSD. It's really funny. I've almost always considered myself pretty unscathed. I guess that's because I was until a couple of years ago. I was deep in denial, and it protected me from all of this. But now... Sheesh. I've been struggling hard with depression. It's not the worst it's ever been, but it's still a struggle. But I've also been feeling very... unbalanced. Like, for a little while there I was seriously beginning to think that maybe I was losing my mind.
I mean, we all know I'm crazy, but this is different :)
I've been having nightmares and flashbacks. I'm kinda used to those, really, but recently I've been dealing with these horrible outbursts of anger. I snap over the smallest things. I scream at my kids, and I catch myself, knowing I have no idea why I'm screaming at them in the first place. I've seriously been losing it and it terrifies me. I had no idea what was going on. No clue what was wrong with me. Hello. Genius.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's rearing it's ugly head and I am struggling hard! I can't focus. I'm on edge all the time. I don't sleep much, and when I do, I have weird scary, horrible dreams. I wake up exhausted and sore, feeling as though I've not rested at all, no matter how many hours I sleep. I'm really very frustrated, but I'm also very thankful.
Even though I've not really realized that this is what's going on with me until now, my friends and family have been amazing. My kids are the most forgiving, loving, precious kids. They take all of my anger, and let it roll off of them. I hate how this gets aimed at them, and I'm working hard on that, but I'm so thankful that they love me enough to forgive me. Eric has been fantastic. He's taken care of me as best he can, and he forgives my faults and short comings as though they're nothing. He is amazing. But my friends are the ones who have received the brunt of this. Stacey especially. I get so angry and I scream and yell and I make no sense. And she never leaves. She never takes it personally, she just lets me get it out, and makes sure I'm safe. I'm so thankful for all of them. For the wonderful people God has placed in my life to help me through this hurt and fear and anger and frustration.
And I'm also so thankful for my blog and bloom friends. My girls who always are there to listen, to encourage, to pray. They don't judge, they just support. They make me laugh when I need to laugh, and let me cry when I need to. So girls, you know who you are, and if I haven't said it. Thank you. I'm really trying to be normal, I promise :)
I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.
I'm here to use my voice. So many people can't. In a world of darkness, I just want to help God's light to shine through. I pray that my words are His, and my love is His, as well. This is my journey through the darkness. To start are the beginning of the story, click here.