Zoom

Since this Covid-19 situation, and all the challenges of quarantine, it's been tough. It's been hard on the kids, it's been hard on our family. One thing that has helped immensely is the church meetings we have every Sunday with Jason's family and monthly with my family. I am so grateful for the technology that has helped us meet from 4 different states and share our testimonies and study the scriptures together via Zoom.

This last Sunday as we talked and studied together, I had some thoughts that I am certain were coming from the Lord, and I haven't stopped thinking about it so I wanted to blog it before I forget.

As I watched my family on the screen during the Zoom meeting, I kept thinking about how much I miss them all. My heart ached for a hug, and I knew my kids wished to see their cousins in person again. This isn't just because of the quarantine, it's also because we all live so far away from one another that we can't get together. I was filled with gratitude for the chance to visit and share our testimonies over Zoom, and it occurred to me how much our Heavenly Father must miss His children. 

Then, today, my sweet niece sent me a meme that said "Lord I waited to hold my little one on my lap and tell them about you. But since I never had the chance, will you please hold them on your lap and tell them about me?" This was, of course, about the babies that never get to come to Earth. It reminded me of the pain we felt, and the peace we found in knowing we could see that baby again. I remember thinking, at times, that it was a comfort but it was still a challenge to wait for the opportunity to hold my baby.

I can't help but think about how much our Heavenly Father must ache for the opportunity to hold his children, to talk to us, and spend time with us. He is watching us from so far away, hoping for contact in any way. If we could have a Zoom meeting with Him, He would be thrilled! I can imagine the joy and peace we would feel if we could talk to Him like we talk to our friends, teachers, family, and neighbors. 

Whenever I feel an ache for being away from a loved one, or the pain of loss, I can realize how much our Father also aches for us. I am so grateful for my knowledge of the atonement. For a knowledge of the eternal nature of families. For the peace I can find in the Plan of Salvation. I feel blessed to have the technology of Zoom meetings so we can have church in our home, and as I watch my children grow, and struggle and hurt with them through the challenges of life, I feel so incredibly blessed to know that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me beyond my understanding.

Carson's Stitches, and Mother's Day

I've had a lot of difficult emotions and thoughts since Mother's Day. Mother's Day has never been my favorite, I remember wondering why my mom never liked it, but now I understand. I'd had a treatment the day before that really wore me out, more than normal. So when Carson started in with his typical tantrums, I just couldn't take it. I heard him tell Jason to leave, saying "you're not my real dad" and "nobody wants you here" and "nobody asked you to be here" among other things. Jason lets this roll right off his back, it doesn't even phase him. Jason was saying "I never said I was your dad" and I ran into the room, grabbed Carson, and yelled at him to shut up and stop being so cruel. As I did this, Carson fell back and hit his head on the corner of the window/wall. His nose started bleeding and I knew it was a bad injury right away. 

I fell to the floor in tears, immediately beating myself up and crying out "what have I done? What kind of mother does this?" Jason tried to comfort me, then told me Carson needed stitches and he was going to take Carson to the InstaCare. He went and told Karleah she needed to take care of the kids and keep and eye on me because I was truly a wreck. Carson saw me in tears, and with his head bleeding like crazy, he still comforted me. He said "it's OK Mommy, I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I love you and I know you love me. It's OK! You're a good mom."

I managed to pull myself off the floor and stop crying but inside I was still a wreck. When Jason called to tell me it was only 3 stitches and they were on their way home, I felt a little better. I tried to stay busy and not think about it too much but I was still just beating myself up inside. Carson handled it better than I thought he would, and Jason and the kids were strong and sweet when I was crumbling. 

That was 9 days ago, and I still feel severe anxiety every time I hear anything similar to Carson hitting his head. I replay the situation, and the thoughts that go through my mind are just too much. The memories that this incident stirred up have been so, so hard. I can't believe the things that have come back to me because of this! The crazy part is that Jason saw it coming, he knew it was going to happen. 

So over the past 9 days I've been reliving a lot of past trauma. I was remembering a lot of the things that led to my divorce. I won't go in to details because I never want to speak ill of my children's father, and it takes two, I wasn't completely innocent. As I remembered some of those incidents and other traumatic events I have really been dragged down emotionally and mentally. Today, in a totally random moment on my way home from work, I started crying as some things came to my realization. (Keep in mind, I have struggled with severe depression for 28 years!)

1- I was in a bad relationship in high school. But I found the courage to break up and move on.

2- I was in an unhealthy marriage for 13 years. Somehow, I found the strength to leave, and I was a strong, independent, single mom of 5 for 2 years!

3- I had an abusive relationship after my divorce, he was ashamed to admit to anyone that I was his girlfriend yet he demanded my full attention and support.

4- I've had many "friends" turn against me and do very hurtful things that dragged me down, yet I found my way back to taking care of my kids.

So, how does someone "like me" with a severe mental illness find the strength to get through these things? How did I do that? Right now, I am not strong enough, I am struggling with thoughts I haven't dealt with since Junior High School! So, how did I do that? The only possible way! I relied on God and my Savior Jesus Christ. My dad has always been there to give me a Priesthood Blessing when I needed it, and I have my Patriarchal Blessing to give me strength and guidance.

Heavenly Father knew I would face this trying time, he knew I would need support more than ever before in my life, so he sent me Jason. Cheesy as it sounds, he is my rock and my strength. If I was in one of those bad relationships again, dealing with the terrible emotions and difficult thoughts I face every day, I'd never make it! They say sometimes those who need help the most are those who seem the strongest. Reach out to your friends (even me because even though I'm struggling, I want to be there for those I love!) If you are the one struggling, reach out! Our Savior will help you, he knows you, he loves you, and YOU ARE WORTH IT! 

I love my friends, and family (is there really a distinction? My friends are like family and my family are friends).... I LOVE YOU ALL

Adjusting to my "Normal"

This blog post has been on my mind for weeks. I don't know how many times I've started this post, hopefully I can finally make sense of all these racing thoughts. We have finally made it to getting my treatments 2 weeks apart. Sometimes it's harder than other times. Especially with this Covid-19 pandemic and having 7 kids home 24/7. //sigh// it's been rough on the kids and therefore rough on my mental health

I used to memorize license plate numbers, phone numbers, random facts, and everyone's birthday. Now I struggle to remember anything, and it's often discouraging and frustrating for me, my kids, and my husband. 

I used to be organized about just about every part of mom life. We had outings every week, each day was assigned a certain task, cleaning was always kept up with, laundry was planned and organized perfectly. Now I can't do any of it. I'm finding it hard not to beat myself up for falling behind on the dishes, laundry, and dusting. I don't vacuum like I need to, and I don't menu plan at all. It's just too much with my treatments. Even if they are 2 weeks apart finally.

I used to have a specific way of discipline. I used to read books for myself and to my kids. I used to sing to my kids at bedtime. I used to stick to a specific routine for the day. Bath day was always the same days and times. I played outside with the kids. I did it all myself for years as a single mom. I have lost a lot of myself.

I had a fear that I've lost myself. That I'm not "me" anymore. At times that has been really depressing and discouraging. At times I wanted to give up, and I let my thoughts get me down. I've felt that I'm not a good mom anymore, I'm not smart, I'm not a good wife, or home maker, or pianist, and the fact that I can't sit down and read a book anymore has frustrated me so many times.

But I've come to realize that this is my new normal. This is a temporary problem, and we will spread the treatments out more and more, then eventually we will stop all together. I will get back some of my old ways of thinking and remembering and acting. But some of this, is my normal now. I don't have to be the same way I was before in order to be good. 

Being a little slower, a lot more forgetful, and less organized is not all wrong or all bad. I just have to learn to accept this new normal. My amazing husband, my awesome kids, my great coworkers, my neighbors, family members, and friends have all accepted the new me, so why shouldn't I?

Learning Piano

One of my favorite memories as a small child was when my dad would pull out his guitar and sing, sometimes we would get to sing with him in a talent show or just at home. He sang a LOT of "Simon and Garfunkel" or "Peter, Paul, and Mary" we loved songs like "Puff, the Magic Dragon" and "The Sounds of Silence", "Marvelous Toy" and "Rhinestone Cowboy" (among others). In my opinion, my dad was the best singer and guitarist in the world. I still think he's among the top 5.

As I got older, I felt a desire to be like my dad, but I wanted to play piano instead of guitar. I begged my parents, but we were poor and my 3 older siblings had all given up on something my parents had put money into so they weren't really thrilled to get me piano lessons.

In 1991, when my oldest brother left on his mission I wanted to cry when he had a special musical number for his farewell and I couldn't be a part of it, I didn't know how to play piano or sing. 

In 1992, my dad was helping a family move in a couple blocks away. They had 2 pianos AND an organ. My dad asked her if she taught lessons, and how much it would cost. (I guess my begging had gotten to be too much by then.) The elderly couple had a dog, and it was getting to be too hard for them to walk him. She asked my dad if I would walk their dog in exchange for piano lessons. Of course my dad jumped on the chance.

So in the summer of 1992, at the age if 12, I started to learn piano from an amazing woman named Barbara Jepson. I worked my way through the beginner books, embarrassed to be playing such simple songs at my age. I still remember my first piano concert just 21 months later. Barbara told me she'd never had a student learn as quickly as I did. 

By the time I turned 16, I was in the high school orchestra, jazz band, concert band, and pep band. Some of my high school friends may not think that is very impressive, haha. But I was so happy to be using my talents.

Here I am, almost 40 years old, struggling to play like I used to because of medications and ECT. But I'm ALIVE and I can still play fairly well (I think). I hope to share this skill for the rest of my life because I believe it was given to me from Heavenly Father. And the fact that all my suicidal thoughts haven't taken me from this life, and I've been lucky enough to share my story and keep my talents means something! 

I hope this doesn't come across as boasting. I am so grateful to be able to share my story. To still be alive, and to be getting better every day.

Electroconvulsive Therapy

When I was a brand new mom, I had plans, goals, and ideas. I was organized and I always had a plan. Each day had a "name" and I don't really remember it all now, but there was a day for cleaning the kitchen, a day to clean the bathrooms, a day to change the bedding on all the beds, a day to organize the cupboards and pantry. 7pm was always time for baths/showers and brushing teeth. Kids always got to bed at 8pm. If anything was off-task I had a panic attack. I wasn't always good at it, I often fell behind and I still had plenty of things that I failed at. For example, I was (am) not good at keeping up with the organizing and decorating.


Well, fast forward a few years. Skip ahead to my hospital stay, and my Electroconvulsive Therapy ("Treatment" or ECT). I've been doing these treatments for just under 6 months. When I first started treatments, side effects were much worse. I knew I'd had a seizure, my entire body would ache, and I was certain I knew what an epileptic felt like.
When I was inpatient, Jason told me that a lot of people helped my family. Watching kids, arranging playdates, bringing meals, checking in on everyone. I am so grateful for all the people that helped my family when I couldn't be there for them. Let me make it very clear that I am eternally indebted to those who have helped my family. I hope this doesn't come across as me being negative or ungrateful. But the whole point of my blog is to get things off my chest, and to help me share things about my mental health journey. Let me also make it very clear that ECT has affected my memory and some of this could be wrong. But this has been on my mind for months now and I feel a need to share it, if only for my own benefit.
When I got home from the hospital, things started out with the typical excitement you always feel at a homecoming. I could cuddle my kids every night, I was home in time for a brief vacation with Jason's brother and new sister-in-law. I was home in time to get my kids ready for back-to-school. I was not able to drive yet (due to ECT) but I was able to physically be with my family and that was InCrEdIbLe! I was on an emotional high, heck, we all were! It felt perfect
Soon, things started getting back to "normal" except for one thing, I was still undergoing treatments. I knew it was working for me, and I had every intention of continuing. As treatments progressed, we tried to spread them out in the hopes of eventually being able to stop altogether. It didn't work, I started to "sink" (emotionally) and we had to move treatments closer together again. It was really hard on me, emotionally, physically, spiritually, and of course mentally. Being hard on me meant it was hard on my family. But I was home, so why would anybody need to help us?
So we started changing my medication and working with my counselor, my psychiatrist, and the staff at the ECT clinic so we could move treatments further apart. I was still on a type of "high" because I wasn't in the hospital anymore. But side effects were really bad and it was getting harder and harder to keep up with the things I needed to do. At least I thought I needed to do these things. And the help and support was less and less.
The depression is under control. Suicidal thoughts are few and very far between. But I yell like never before. My poor kids have taken the brunt of it because they are the only ones around, and they are almost always around. My dad had to tell me the other day that I had "gone too far" when I was punishing one of the kids. I use swear words like never before, I'm disgusted with myself. I end up apologizing and "beating myself up" for the way I react to things, and the things I'm failing to keep up with. I don't dust, or scrub walls/ceilings. Cobwebs are everywhere. I can't keep up with the laundry. I don't know the last time I helped the kids change their bedding, let alone the last time I changed my own. I rarely vacuum. I don't go shopping like I used to. I don't plan the menu. I don't bake "for fun". I struggle to keep up with the chores. I rarely do "fun" outings, (we used to use Groupon and other deals at least once a week).
So, what I'm saying is: ECT is doing what it should. For the first time in over 25 years I have felt an improvement in my depression. But the side effects are so incredibly difficult for me! And because the "thing" I was hospitalized for has improved, it seems like nobody cares anymore.
I don't want to sound needy or whiney because for the most part, I don't really need much of anything. But, I recently talked to a friend of mine that is a cancer survivor, and talked to a family member (who is also a friend) and read an article, all of these things have helped me find words for what I'm trying to express right now. If this were any other illness it would be different. My exhaustion would be understood, accepted even. I wouldn't be expected to work the day before/day of/day after treatment, especially not when I have to fast. My messy house would not be something to look down on, it would be "hey, I see that you need some help, can I come help clean your kitchen?" My forgetfulness wouldn't be mocked, it would be understood. Mood swings would be something to help with, not another thing to look down on me for.
I find myself resetting passwords, passwords I use daily are getting reset constantly. I forget recipes I used to have memorized. I forget how to play songs on the piano that I used to play all the time. I rarely read to my kids anymore, it's too hard to read. I never read for myself, I'm just going to forget it all. Every treatment is a little different. Sometimes I'm really sick, other times I'm just a little nauseated, and other times I don't feel sick at all. Sometimes I can't do anything but sleep for 2 days, sometimes I just sleep for a few hours.
I am going to close this, by begging all of my family, friends, and my readers (though they may be few!) to show a little more compassion and kindness. You don't know what the person next to you may have gone through recently. Don't stop showing love and sympathy just because you "think" someone is doing better. I'm not begging because I want that love, sympathy, and help for myself. Though there are days I could use it, I have a great support system in my parents, my teenage daughter (she's pretty amazing) my husband, and even my other kids can be pretty helpful at times. Just know that everyone out there is fighting a battle, and you rarely know anything about it. So BE KIND

A Day in my Life of Mental Illness

It started out with me missing my alarm. Somehow I turned it off without even knowing, and fell asleep. Luckily I woke up just before 5, so I wasn't TOO late to work. But my illness is telling me how I must be stupid for sleeping through turning off my alarm. What kind of idiot does that?

Work started out rough, I was very overwhelmed for the first 2 hours, trying to keep up. So many people coming to me with problems, concerns, complaints, questions, etc. As I work, I make jokes with coworkers, I chat about life, I'm outgoing and funny outside, I'm fighting darkness in my mind. Suicidal thoughts bombard me as I show pictures of my baby girl, talk about my kids, and continue to work. Nobody knows the darkness I'm fighting.

On the walk to my car after work, I get a text from Nathanael's teacher, asking me to make sure he makes it to a group meeting that is about to start. That means I need to hurry home and tell him to log in. No stopping for that soda I wanted. But what was I thinking, I don't deserve that anyway. It was selfish to think of spending that $3 on myself. I can't even get my teen son to be a responsible student, or to keep up with his chores, or be polite. How dare I think of buying myself a drink!?!?

I rush inside, tell Nathanael to login to group. Look around the house at all my failures. I can't keep up with laundry or dishes or dusting. I can't decorate, I don't  know when I last vacuumed. I tell my son I love him, hoping he knows that all his mom's failures aren't his problem. His mom is terrible but he is good.

I go to get Emily, but she's asleep with grandpa so I go get TJ from preschool. As I drive, I'm bombarded with suicidal thoughts. These kids deserve better!

When I get home with the babies, Nathanael is done with group so I ask him to boil water for macaroni while I pick up. When I come back to the kitchen, he hasn't moved from the computer screen. This is my failure. I reorganize the pantry. Work is supposed to help chase away depression. Instead, I beat myself up for failing to keep the pantry neat.

I try to reach out to friends, but delete every text before sending as I'm bombarded with suicidal thoughts and intense darkness.

Finally I text Jason. We had a good chat, I think I'm doing better, and it's almost time to get the kids from school anyway. I grab myself that soda I wanted earlier.

When I pick up the kids, I remember Vanessa has her meeting so I'm going to have to wait an hour. Carson asks to play with a friend, I don't know the family so I'm uncomfortable with it. But my kids never get invited anywhere. They haven't really had play dates since I got home from the hospital. My kids are suffering because of my illness. I begin to beat myself up for ruining my children's lives. I let Carson go, and Faith joins him. Either I'm crappy for keeping him from friends or I'm crappy for letting him go. Either way I lose, and the darkness takes over again.

I forgot my jacket and it's cold out so I'm stuck in the car for an hour with 2 toddlers. Thankfully we have Disney+! When Vanessa comes out, we can't find Carson. I spend 20 minutes driving around and wandering the school grounds, fighting the dark thoughts.

Finally, we're headed home. Dinner is frozen taquitos instead of the cashew chicken I planned. I suck. I push through dinner, clean up, bath time, brushing teeth, and family prayer. I start with scripture study, and after 20 minutes of fighting the kids to "shush" "shut up" "sit still" "listen" I lose it. I scream, swear, and tell them I'm done. I walk away and hide in my room, which forces Karleah to get them all in bed. Which is another failure.

I'm not going to kill myself. I dont have a plan. But these dark feelings are strong today. I lost the battle today. But I'm not quitting. I'm fighting harder than anyone knows.

Today it Hit Me

Today, I sat close to my sweet husband, I held his hand as we partook of the sacrament, listened to the talks, and sang the hymns during a wonderful sacrament meeting.

As soon as the closing prayer was finished, I grabbed my piano music and headed to primary.

When I'm playing the piano, I always sing the words to the songs I'm playing (usually in my mind)

Today as I played, I fought back tears as the weight of the past 4 months really hit me. (Totally random.)

As I played piano and the primary children sang, I continued to fight tears as the weight of it all really hit me. "I almost wasn't here for any of this. Holding Jason's hand, going to church with my family, playing piano, singing hymns and primary songs. I almost wasn't here for any of it."

I am so grateful for my family. All the stress they cause, all the struggles of life, and I'm so grateful that Jason listened to the prompting to brush his teeth in the "middle of the night". I'm glad I'm here for this crazy thing called "life".

Goodbye UNI, I'm going H-O-M-E

Thursday, July 31st

Just talked to my "team". We're hoping I can go home this weekend! I have another ECT in the morning, and if things go well I may be home Saturday or Sunday. My social worker is going to call Jason, so I'll talk to him tonight! I am nervous to go back, because there are a lot of responsibilities I don't think I'm quite ready for.

Karleah has taken on so much the past 2 weeks, I am in awe of the young woman she has become! I'm worried about the bills getting paid, the food getting prepared, the kids having what they need. I'm trying to take things in baby steps, not jump in all at once. There is so much involved in being a mom! For now, I'm praying for peace and patience as I prepare to go home. 

Friday, August 1st

I can't believe I've been here almost 2 weeks. Today's ECT went smoothly. My sweet hubby will be here later today to meet with my medical team, and make a plan for me to go home. I'm nervous to take on all my old responsibilities again. I feel so blessed to have Karleah helping while I've been in the hospital. I've never felt so much love and support in my life!

As of right now, the plan is to go home tomorrow after lunch! I feel like I am finally getting the hang of life here in UNI, and I'm going to leave! I'm so scared to step back into being a mom. I don't know if I'm really ready. I'm tired of being away from home, away from my kids, away from work. But I'm even more afraid of going back to the old life, where I was when this all started.

I missed Judy's funeral, I have missed so many things with my kids, I need to get back to reality. Even though it's scary...…. I am so incredibly proud of Karleah. She has really taken a lot on, and I can't possibly express all the gratitude in my heart! She is just a kid! My mom has helped a ton, too [she even potty trained TJ!] but Karleah is only 17!!

The Low Between Treatments

Yesterday is a blur. I'm feeling the lows of being in between treatments. Thoughts of self-harm keep coming to mind, and I can usually get rid of them pretty quick. Dr. Hunziker pointed out that my countenance is much brighter than it was when I arrived here. That's good to hear, because today I am feeling pretty low, dark, depressed, and MOODY! I'm grateful to be here, where I can be watched out for and helped. I know my kids are struggling and hurting, but I am grateful to be setting this example for them, of admitting when I need help and getting the help! The thought of them swarming me with hugs and their sweet voices is a little overwhelming.... But I know I will be there soon, and all of this will just be a memory. I just want to curl up in Jason's arms!

Today I decorated my wall. I have the card from Katie, a card from a patient named David, a puppy TJ scribbled on (it's Lady from "Lady and the Tramp") a flower painted by the kids, a temple drawn and painted by my kids, a mom puppy hugging a baby pup with a heart background (from my kids) a pic of Emily swinging a sparkler in Jason's face (she managed to burn his face and her leg with said sparkler), and cards from Carson, Vanessa, and Faith.

I try to use these decorations as a reminder to get better. We need each other, our family is forever! This is a big challenge for all of u, and I know we can get through this! But I can hardly wait for this all to be a memory. 💓💜

Lucas, Lilly, Jeanine, Anthonio, Karleah, Caranina, Nathanael, Carson, Vanessa, Faith, TJ, Emily I love you all!

Ammie 💜 Reno

The First 2 ECT Treatments

This morning (Friday, July 26th) was my first ECT treatment. I woke up with a lot of pain in my jaw, calves, and head. I've spent a huge percentage of the day in my room, and most of that time I was sleeping. I did finally get my own clothes, so that feels really nice. Still ate by myself on unit, but I am a little anxious about leaving anyway. I always feel so self conscious in a new setting, especially when I'm the only "newbie".

Back to the ECT.... I woke up very slowly, and when I woke up more fully (around noon) I felt light. I was amazed at the quick results, and had the most hope I've felt in years! 

Saturday, July 27th 

I had my 2nd ECT so I've been very lazy. My goal for today [every day in group, we set a goal when we talk about our mood] was to admit when something is wrong and get the help I need. So far I'm failing. I think sometimes I wait for everything to fall in place before I do something. Like if the med nurse isn't in the med room, I won't go find him/her to get my meds. If someone asks if I want some ibuprofen for my body aches, I say "no". If there is a line for meds, I just walk away. I basically wait for the med nurse to just be sitting in wait for me.

I miss indexing. I really want to be working on something more than coloring pictures or doing puzzles. Group just feels like routine now. I haven't really socialized but at least I've been able to play the piano. When I do finally go home, I'll be slammed by work, kids, dogs, housework, and all my routines. It scares me..... I hope I don't end up right back in here.

I haven't seen most of my kids for a week now. Saw Karleah and TJ last night, and I've seen Emily every day, because she is nursing. As much as I miss them, I am afraid of going home and becoming completely overwhelmed by them all talking and needing me. But I'm also full of guilt for making Karleah take on so much, and for adding to Jason's stress load. This is hard on everyone, and I hate being a burden.

Jason really is my rock, and the anchor and shield his patriarchal blessing states he is. I feel so truly blessed to have Jason as my eternal companion, my best friend, and my lover. I don't know what I would do without Jason by my side.

Today has been a crazy whirlwind. I haven't done much, I've just been sleeping, writing, visiting, or doing puzzles. Actually every puzzle I start makes me mad because of all the lost pieces, so I haven't finished many.

I was able to attend sacrament meeting here in the hospital. It was really simple and short.

Jaron and Megan have taken my girls to stay the week, and Carson is off to scout camp, so it's Karleah, Nathanael, and the babies at home. But Jason did ask the relief society to bring meals, so I am glad Karleah has some help (besides my mom).

Tomorrow is my 3rd ECT, so I hope it goes well. (I don't remember if I ever wrote this, but ECT stands for electro-convulsive therapy). A quick explanation in case I haven't written it before: Electric currents are sent through my brain, causing a seizure. This is supposed to "reset" the parts of my brain that tell my body I'm depressed. I am also given a medication to paralyze my muscles so the seizure isn't too hard on my body. A blood pressure cuff is tightly placed on my wrist to keep the paralysis medication out of my hand, so my hand shows the length and strength of the seizure. Each treatment, they adjust the amount of each medication based on my reactions after the last treatment. For example, if the seizure made me really achy, they add more pain medication. When I have waken up nauseated, they add anti-nausea medication the next time. I love the technology! But I'm also very ready to be back in my own routines again!

[an addition for my blog, which is not in the journal I get the rest of these entries from.... if you are interested in watching an ECT treatment, there are many videos on YouTube. My kids all watched them to help them understand what I was going to be experiencing]

All Night Panic Attacks

Thursday July 25th 2am
University Neuropsychiatric Institute

Just had one of the most intense panic attacks of my life. Fighting the desire to self harm, battling invisible demons, and silently screaming. I sometimes try to convince myself I am OK, when I am not. Even here, I wonder if I'm overreacting. I picked up this pen to remind myself:

MY ILLNESS IS REAL! I AM NOT OK, BUT I DESERVE HELP, LOVE, SUPPORT, COMFORT, AND EVEN MEDICAL HELP!
AMBERLEAH!
YOU ARE RIGHT WHERE YOU NEED TO BE! YOUR ILLNESS IS NOT MADE UP, AND POSITIVITY WILL NOT HEAL IT!

I seriously cried and fought so hard I feel like I did a major, full-body workout! Hope I can sleep.

9:45am
I fought those urges to self harm most of the night. I felt paralyzed by fear. One of the nurses gave me some chamomile tea, which relaxed my body but my mind still raced. I thought about getting up and asking for something to help me sleep, but the fear of being vulnerable enough to admit my weaknesses to strangers...… was.... too strong. So I lay there in the dark struggling in silence. I did finally pray, and did receive some comfort. My healing image today [every day in UNI, we try to come up with a healing image to help us get through the hard times] is to lay in bed, curled up on Jason's chest. I miss my family so intensely! Thinking of how I can tell my kids about this time and encourage them in their own trials so they don't have to sink to the lows I've seen..... I love those kids so, so much! 💗

Katie apologized to me, it was very real and sincere. I high-fived her  because we both got through a tough night. I felt a new connection. Now they're moving her downstairs because of her suicidal thoughts. I will continue to pray for her.

Seeing Myself Through Other's Eyes

I am shaking. I've been pushed around so much in my life. I'm so shy, and self-conscious that when a strong person comes around, I get trampled on. I know at least 2 former boyfriends sensed this and "groomed" me to get what they wanted.

Tonight, I felt so good. I had good things to look forward to, a plan in place, a long talk with my mom, Jason brought me dinner, I got to play with Emily, I was having deep, meaningful conversations with others and felt HUMAN! I was a person, not just a patient. I could talk with others openly and candidly.

Then, another loud bully came along. The previously-mentioned Katie walked in, and ruined it. She came and demanded the blinds be raised. Three other women disagreed, and I pointed out that if the blinds were raised, the sun would be directly in my line of sight. I said "raise the blinds and the sun will literally blind me." (keep in mind how hard it is for me to stand up for myself even that much!) Katie rolled her eyes and again demanded the blinds be raised. Another girl here said "nobody else in here wants them up." so Katie yelled "raise the f#$@ing blinds!" at the psych tech. The blinds went up, and 3 of the 4 women in there left. Katie called out to me, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't let her see me cry. I wasn't about to be hurt more by her "apology".

As I wrote about this, 2 of the techs came in to check on me. It's amazing how much that helped. They heard me, they apologized for how it played out, and they talked to the bully. I'm a little anxious to go back out there, but so relieved that my voice was heard and validated.

10pm(ish)
Everyone is watching fireworks in the day room. I watched for a few minutes but became a little saddened when I thought how much my kids love fireworks, and I'm not there to see their excitement. Especially the boys. I promised Nathanael we would get some for pioneer day. Jason said he would make sure he gets some good ones, but I'm not there :'(

But, to end my day on a better note! I feel pretty great! Jason has always told me he is amazed at my ability to get people to open up, and how many people rely on me. I have never really seen it like that. Maybe I was just trying to "modestly" downplay my strengths. But today, I feel like I saw myself through his eyes.

I talked to A***** about her family. how she overcame a tough childhood, the loss of her parents, M.S. treatments, and her husband's severe alcoholism. She told me how much she loves them, and that she is now sealed to her husband and gets to hear about the son she gave up for adoption in the middle of hard times.

I talked to D***** about how her parents and husband all died within months of each other, and how she finally got help this month after severe PTSD in December. I shared my feelings from losing loved ones close together and praised her strength.

I talked to a 19-year-old, E****. This is her third time here in 4 months. I told her about my experiences at her age, and heard her story of many suicidal thoughts. I told her that as a mom, I know her parents care but may not know how to help. I praised her efforts to get better and encouraged her not to give up. She lifted me up by saying she could tell how much I love my kids, and she "knows" I'm a great mom.

T****** told me about her 500+ ECT treatments and several hospital stays. But mostly she nodded in understanding as I talked about the day leading up to my hospitalization. T*** doesn't say much, but I felt a connection, and a simple understanding of each other.

I briefly spoke with L***, she wears a silver cross and believes in Christ. She just moved here from Vermont to study social work. She has decided she needs to go in to mental health because of her experiences in UNI.

My sweet Jason brought me KFC, diet coke, and Utah Truffles. I felt so good leaning on him and hearing about his day. He is amazing.

Over the past few days I've been scratching myself on the arm to cause enough harm to hurt without it looking serious. [To be honest, I was trying to harm myself. But that's the most I could do with the things I'm allowed to touch here] Today I got the courage to ask for medication to put on it, so hopefully I'll stop scratching it! [my hospital band was scratching up my other wrist, so I now have scars on both wrists..... ]

The talk with my mom was really great. I think she has felt some guilt over all this (I am definitely my mother's daughter!) I told her that this is all because of an illness, not the things others have said or done. I thanked her for being open about her depression so I could be more open about mine (albeit slowly.....)

One last thought. I want to remember what Dr S said (the ECT doctor). She saw the claw marks on my arm and encouraged me to tell the staff when I felt like doing those things. I said that was really hard for me. She said "that's why you practice here. Where it's safe, because the people you talk to here deal with it all the time. Learn how to communicate it here." that was a great thought, just what helped me. I needed to hear that!!

--Good Night!

#ammieandreno

UNI Journal Entries

I talked to Jason during breakfast. My sweet Emily was screaming and cooing. I miss that delightful squeal. TJ Woke up a few minutes later and said "Hi. Mom. Miss you!" and I cried. I asked Jason to tell some of the ladies in the ward to visit me for lunch. I could use something to break the monotony! Even if it is uncomfortable.....

My goal today is to talk to my mom. I tried to call but she was probably asleep. If she was awake, she probably ignored the restricted name on caller ID. I'll try again.

I talked to the Dr that heads up the ECT. She said I am the perfect candidate. I felt so validated! I can't explain how wonderful it felt to hear that this life-long battle with depression has a "real-life" medical treatment. It will basically "reset" y brain while I adjust to new medications. First treatment will be on Friday. As scary as it sounds, I can't wait to get started!

Another girl arrived yesterday. I was relieved to have someone else here on "unit" with me. (Unit is when you have to stay in blue scrubs and can't leave the floor for breaks or meals. And there are no privileges for the media room.) She was off unit by breakfast. It was discouraging. Then Katie, (a very obnoxious, loud, young girl) told me she has been here over two weeks and I was so nervous that I will be, too. Having that talk with the ECT doctor was very helpful. Then Katie gave me a card she colored, it says "you are one of God's best creations!" I keep reading this to remind myself that I have value!

I also got to play piano for about an hour, and talked to Jody. It felt good to share some of the details with someone (other than Jason...) I felt the spirit so strong (which has been a challenge lately) so I'm feeling very light right now.

Notes From Group at UNI

"Every time you are tempted to react in the same old way, ask if you want to be a prisoner of the past or a pioneer of the future."
--Deepok Chopra
"If you don't like the road you're walking, start paving another one!"
--Dolly Parton

I sat down to play the piano for a few minutes, and Dr Hunziker came in to talk to me. It felt great to play piano, and if all goes well I may start ECT on Friday!

More Journal Entries

From July 24th 2019:

Group therapy was not helpful today. I already know! Unhealthy habits and the consequences. Healthy coping mechanisms and all the things I've heard in therapy for 20+ years.

Maybe it would have been helpful as we moved along, but my "team" had me come talk to them [my doctor, therapist, and psychiatrist].

I talked about all the hard times since TJ was born. Things I have been told I am not allowed to talk about. All the hospitalizations and surgeries where I was neglected and left alone. I went back to my suicidal thoughts in Junior High and high school. I cried so much.

Dr Hunziker felt that I am not safe, and need a plan that will help more immediately. A change in medication will take 6-8 weeks and I don't have that time. I'll get back into an unsafe place, and complete a suicide plan before the changes help.

We discussed other treatment options. One was a magnetic treatment that can take months of treatment, 5 times a week, and possibly monthly after 25-30 treatments. The 2nd option is ECT- an electric shock therapy that includes sedation, muscle paralysis, and an induced seizure. The 3rd was Ketamine treatments, which can cause a "high" for several days, and often causes severe lows afterwards (which I can't afford). So, of course ECT seems to be the best option, especially since insurance covers it.

So now I am waiting to talk to the ECT team. And it sounds like I'll be here a lot longer than I hoped. I don't have any privileges. Can't even wear my own clothes or eat in the cafeteria. Looks like I'm the only one with no privileges. So I'll eat dinner alone. There was only one person in the day room at lunch, and he just got cafeteria privilege. :(

Jason says he feels an overwhelming peace about the whole situation. I can't quiet my racing thoughts long enough to find that peace. I do know that my depression has gotten out of hand, and I need help. I know I'm on the path to get that help. I just can't feel the peace. I miss my family. I want to hug my kids. Snuggle my babies. Eat junk food with them an be overwhelmed by their constant talking over each other about their day. That is what pushes me to get better. The desire to be a good mom, a healthy mom. I hate that this causes them to hurt. But I pray it will help us all be happier in the future.

I love my children! Karleah, Nathanael, Carson, Vanessa, Faith, Travis, Emily, Lucas, Lilly, Jeanine, Anthonio, and Caranina.

It's almost 10pm, "lights out". I miss my kids. Emily looked at me like I was a stranger for a moment yesterday, but today she was more excited to see me. I wonder how long it will take TJ to remember me when he sees me again.

I talked to Karleah for a few minutes. She is struggling, but she is strong. I don't know how she's doing, I know she holds a lot inside (like her mom!) She may need counseling later. She did say Lilly took her out and it was helpful.

I enjoyed some time with Jason tonight. He is my anchor and shield. I wish I wasn't putting such a burden on my loved ones. But I pray this will help me feel better, and be better for them. I wanted to have a BBQ for pioneer day, and I'm really saddened I won't be able to do so. But we will celebrate soon enough!
***fingers crossed***

Sometime in the middle of the night..... I'm up writing again.....

The staff keep telling me that I should tell them when I'm anxious or can't sleep. But letting someone know I'm not ok is still so hard. Right now my tummy is growling, I hate the food. I can't stop thinking of ways to hurt myself. My mouth hurts, my left ear lobe is red and swollen, and I have a headache. I lay here pretending to sleep when they walk by with the flashlights to check on me.

I was completely honest with my attending doctor (Hunziker) but I don't want to tel all these other strangers in to the dark parts of my mind. I try to pep talk myself into asking for an ibuprofen, but ALWAYS back out, anxious about asking for pain relief. As if subconsciously I'm enjoying some pain and discomfort because I feel I don't deserve relief, and I deserve the physical pain.

It really doesn't help to think back to the ER and the Receiving Center where I told one person after another that my head was pounding and nobody cared. Or at least they didn't do anything. When I did make myself vulnerable, nobody helped anyway.

Becky and Lindsey said this is one of the best things they ever did (going to a psychiatric care facility) so far, I don't see or feel any difference. I talk to a team of doctors and psych techs, I go to group, then I sit alone with my dark thoughts. I hope it changes, but so far things are moving slow.... though to be fair it would be slower on the "outside" where it takes months to get in to a psychiatrist and then months or years to find a good therapist.

I don't know how to survive 6 more days as I go off lamictal and wait to start ECT. I worry about the house and kids....

This thing where I talk to a Doctor, then feel like things are moving along, only to wait another 24 hours and start again has to change. I'm so bored and I am not used to being alone for so long. No visitors is hard, but I'm also afraid to see anyone. I know they won't judge [probably] but I'm still a little embarrassed/ashamed. Feeling pretty stupid here. I don't know how I feel about being the center of attention.... even though I feel completely ignored. The conflicting thoughts are so hard.......

Tuesday July 23rd, 2019

The following post is from a journal that was given to me when I was a patient at UNI (University Neuropsychiatric Institute). There are a lot of entries that I don't want to lose, so I'll be posting a lot of them here on my blog.

Tuesday July 23rd 2019; 9am

Wow what a crazy few days (weeks!?) I've had. For years I've tried to understand feelings of jealousy, especially towards my step children the past 3-4 years. Jason is always there for his kids, 100% of the time. He would do anything at any time for any one of them. I never knew why it was so hard. I mean... he's my husband! I love that family means so much to him. That's one of the first things I loved about him.

Yet every time those kids needed him, I felt abandoned, neglected, ignored, even invisible. I guess it added to my already screwed up mind and y feelings of worthlessness. 

When we've had broken bones, sprains, surgeries, and hospital stays (which included family therapy I was excluded from) I've slowly sunk more and more into the darkest parts of my mind.

For a few months the darkness has been so thick. But I'm an expert at hiding things like that. Nobody really knew. Not my psychiatrist, or the three therapists. Not my family or friends. Not coworkers. I've struggled since my pregnancy with TJ and throughout it all, I've considered these three options:

1. I've done this before. I'll figure it out on my own (like I always have)
2. People don't even see it, and when I do express it, it's always downplayed by them or myself so I'm on my own with this.
3. I'll just adjust my medication myself and get this resolved (by switching doctors and telling them different doses).

I've played through all of this, fighting my own demons and trying to find light on my own, or with my Heavenly Father.

The last 2 months, things have been really bad in my mind. I guess I just hoped to silence the negative thoughts by "toughing it out". Going through my daily actions and doing my best to keep it all buried while I prayed, studied scriptures with my family, attended church, kept up at work and (mostly) at home. I've done this countless times in my life! I can do it again! 

As I write, my heart races, my head pounds, and I start bouncing my knees to keep from shaking as I write.

All the times I tell my family and friends to reach out when they need to, encourage people to lean on me or the Lord, and here I am! Strong and faithful on the outside, falling apart inside. But I deny that constantly! Because I am the "expert" and don't need others to know I'm not well.

On July 2nd I had some dental work done. A tooth pulled, a crown, and a filling. By Friday (the 5th) I knew the socket where my tooth had been pulled was not healing well. I went back to the dentist on the 9th to confirm it was a dry socket. I assumed I'd be sent home with an antibiotic and some more ibuprofen. But he offered me pain pills. I thought "oh, good. I'll have them on hand if I fell like hurting myself!"

That thought [though fleeting] got me really nervous. Afraid of those thoughts, I decided not to fill the prescription. Then, I got a urinary tract infection, which required an antibiotic. I also had refills of Lamictal [my mood stabilizer] and Cymbalta [my antidepressant] so I filled the prescription for Percocet, too. I don't feel like I needed it. I have a high pain tolerance. But I felt like it was my safety net to have those pills on hand.

On Tuesday July 16th, I had 3 appointments at 3 different places. Looking back, I see it was my "dry run" to see how things went when I was gone. That night, after the little ones were in bed, Karleah brought up 3 prescriptions from her room. One was for pain pills from her wisdom teeth surgery. I told her I would take them to the pharmacy for proper disposal.

Wednesday the 17th I was ready to take the hydrocodone and oxycodone prescriptions. Thew plan was to take them after work, in my car. People nap in their cars at work all the time so it wouldn't raise suspicion. Work wouldn't know because I'd be done with my shift, and my kids and parents wouldn't notice for a while because I had left work late so often lately. I left for work, started the car, and realized I had forgotten one of the pill bottles. When I ran back inside the house to get it, Jason was standing in front of the drawer the pills were in, brushing his teeth! I felt so many things in that instant. Relief, anger, disappointment, and more. Jason never gets up to brush his teeth at that time of the morning. I looked at my sweet husband, afraid he would see in my eyes the darkness I was holding inside. I told him I forgot what I came back for and left for work.

I knew Heavenly Father was protecting me. He sent angels to nudge Jason to get up! So I felt comfort, and resentment at the same time. Such intense emotions, so conflicting, impossible to handle, even harder to express.

After work, Jason text me some random message and I knew he was about to tell me something. When he sent a pic of himself at the ER with an EKG on, I was saddened. I think part of me was relieved I was there with the kids since he wasn't ready to take on all of it with me gone. I told him "the kids need their Papa. Get better!" But If I'm honest with myself, it was also... "they don't need Mom."

Thursday as I left work, ready to talk to Jason about my suicidal thoughts, he told me Anthonio had been in an accident so he had to go help him out. I responded with "OK. I'll hold all this inside for even longer." As I drove home, I cried, punched the steering wheel, and screamed "I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT! I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT!" Over and over again. I thought I might explode from the intensity of it all.

I was afraid of my feelings, but even more afraid to express them. I text two friends that I knew would understand the best. I still never let on to how dark I felt. Thursday evening, we took the kids to Burger King. A friend of mine was there and she entertained the kids while I told Jason little slivers of the truth. That night in bed, I lay on his chest and told him my plan. He asked if he should take the pills, and I said it might be a good idea. But he only knew about one bottle.

Friday, I felt giddy! I thought that by sharing my burden, I had been led out of the depths of my depression.... I was wrong. That joy was short-lived.

Saturday I went to lunch with my friend Tasha. I thought it would be nice to spent time with someone who dealt with similar emotions. It helped but not enough.

I posted something on a facebook group, my attempt at crying out. I finally accepted that I was not OK.

Quick backtrack..... on Wednesday Jason received a blessing before going in to see the cardiologist. I was afraid to ask for a blessing, despite the urging from Heavenly Father. I didn't want to explain to my parents why I needed a blessing.

During all this, I did try to reach out. I text my friends Tasha, Becky, and Lindsey for advice, but always avoided anything specific. I called a crisis line, but hung up in fear. I text a crisis line but when they asked for my name I disconnected. I made vague FB posts that I promptly deleted when a comment would hit close to home. 

Saturday night as I lay in bed, Jason said he felt like I needed a blessing. He asked if we should wait til morning, but I knew we couldn't wait. That blessing may have saved my life.

In the blessing, I was told many times that angels were with me. They were calling my name! Angels on both sides! Originally I thought this meant "both sides of the veil". But now I know it's both sodes, meaning Satan's angels as well as Angels of the light of God.

Sunday, at about 2am, I woke up in a panic. I tried to calm myself. By 3:30 I had text a friend that had begged me to text anytime that night. I told her I felt like I should have been hospitalized. She told me to wake Jason and GO! I was too scared.

I lay there for hours, frozen by fear. The thought came to me that I had angels calling out to me, helping me. By 8am, I told Jason that I knew the angels were telling me to GO TO THE HOSPITAL, NOW!" He agreed.

Jason's phone rang right then. Lilly needed him. She either broke or sprained an ankle, and needed help to get to a doctor. I looked at Jason and told him to go. I was prepared to cry alone once more. To fight my demons alone. He said "don't you see? You have a "cover story" and I'm going to the hospital anyway!" I was relieved, and terrified.

Once I got the courage to walk to the ER (Jason stayed at urgent care with his daughter), I asked the person at the front desk "Is this where I go if I'm feeling suicidal?" she said it was, and I was placed on a stretcher in the hallway. I got to hear and see all kinds of things. But mostly, I fought my demons as I lay alone.

Finally, I was sent to The Receiving Center, to be "observed" for 23 hours and talk to some social workers. By the time I left there, I think I told my story to at least 10-15 people. And it only got worse

Monday July 22nd at noon I was admitted to the University Neuropsychiatric Institute (UNI). I never knew my mind could have so many racing thoughts, simultaneously. From old folk songs, to why my suicidal plan was stopped, to why I'm here and when I can go. Thoughts about my family, my kids, work, how friends will take the news, church! How can I ever go again?! How can I not?!

RACING, CONTINUOUS, SIMULTANEOUS AND CONFLICTING THOUGHTS! 

My thoughts became more violent. I became afraid to go home. I talked to a team of doctors and social workers. I knew I was going to be there a while. My fingernails began digging at my wrist. My hospital band left a deep gash on my right hand and my fingernails left deep gashes on the left wrist.

Mothers Day

I was asked to speak on Mother's Day. And I type faster than I write, so here are my thoughts....

Happy Mother's Day!
I'm sure one reason I was asked to speak on Mother's Day is because I have a lot of kids, and the bishopric thinks I know what I'm doing by now. But the more kids I have, the more I realize how little I DO know. But since we do have so many kids, I hope an introduction takes up most of my time:

In 1998, shortly after graduating high school, I was introduced to someone I would later marry. I had always wanted a big family, so I wanted a honeymoon baby. I got married just before turning 19, and assumed it would be easy to have children. It took 2 years for me to finally get a positive pregnancy test. Karleah was born in October of 2001. Before her first birthday, I felt strongly that it was time to have another baby. I assumed it would be easier the 2nd time because my body had "figured it out". After about 18 months, we went to a fertility specialist, and after a round of in-vitro fertilization, I was blessed with Nathanael in December 2005. After he turned 1, I started another IVF cycle, and I was blessed with twins. Carson and Vanessa were born in March of 2008. 4 kids didn't feel like the big family I dreamt of, so I was a little saddened at the thought of being "done".

15 months later, I had 2 loved ones pass away. As I faced one of the darkest times in my life, and questioned worthiness to be a mother. The dark depression I faced had me convinced that Heavenly Father had only sent me children because I forced it when I did IVF. To help me through, Heavenly Father sent me a surprise, Faith was born in May of 2010.

Shortly after Faith turned 2, I got divorced. For 2 1/2 years I was a single mom, and it was by far one of the hardest things in my life. I believe I only made it through because I relied so much on the people I admire most, including my brothers and dad who held the priesthood. I stayed focused on scriptures and daily prayer. Thanks to personal revelation and many blessings, I knew I was meant to remarry. I started dating, (which, by the way, is not as fun in your 30s as in your teens.)

In August of of 2014, I met Jason through an online dating app. He proposed exactly 2 months later on October 8, in the Oquirrh Mountain Temple. In January of 2015 we were sealed in the same room he proposed to me. I became a stepmom to 5, Lucas, Lilly, Jeanine, Anthonio, (more twins!) and Caranina.

Jason and I felt strongly that there were more spirits waiting to join our family. We tried to ignore and deny the impressions, but that only went so far..... We got pregnant right away, but miscarried the baby we call Lydia on Labor Day weekend of 2015. By Thanksgiving, we were pregnant again and Travis (TJ) joined our family in July of 2016. I told everyone I was done having kids, hoping Heavenly Father would hear me and stop nudging us to have another baby, again proving that I know less with each child. Emily was born in June of 2018.

If you've been keeping track, that's 12 kids and one angel baby. 21, 19, 17, 17, 17, 16, 13, 11, 11, 9, 2, and 10 months.

When I was young and my mom got depressed on Mother's Day, I never understood. I couldn't wait to be a mom and have all the love and praise I thought moms had. I've realized more and more that most women tend to take something as meaningful and thoughtful as mothers day, and turn it into a guilt trip. We tend to focus on our friends' talents and strengths, and downplay our own. We think we are being humble when we minimize our own abilities.

Having dealt with depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember, I can tell you I'm a pro at minimizing my strengths when compared to those around me. When our house flooded last weekend, I was beating myself up for the messes I hadn't kept up with, making the process of cleaning up so much harder. Another example from this week: Tuesday Morning I got a call from one of the kids' schools, telling me about some problems in class that day I broke down in tears of anger, hurt, frustration, and discouragement. Blaming myself for my child's problems. That afternoon, I received a message from another school, about another kid. I called Jason in tears. "How can I give a talk on Mother's Day when I am so clearly failing as a mother?" He said "you are the mother your children need" (before you give him credit for a great line, he was quoting a book I just finished.)

I have often questioned why Heavenly Father sent me children with their own emotional and social difficulties. Why he thought I was the right choice. I need constant reminders that HE knows why.

Time and time again, other moms in my life have helped me. I will list a few:

My best friend/visiting teacher Emily. She would drop everything to come help me, like the time my daughter needed stitches and my boys were in the bath, when I was going through a difficult time of depression and she checked on me daily, and when I separated from my now ex-husband and she was the only one to know the details and support me through it all.
My sister Angie who called me daily as I adjusted to being a single mom. Reminding me when I was overwhelmed, to "Let go and let God"
My sister-in-law Zoe who continued to show me love when I divorced her husband's brother.
My sisters-in-law Bonnie and Pam who have accepted me and loved me when I joined their family 20 years after they did.
My sister-in-law Chrystal, who has helped me adjust to being a step mom and who has relied on me as much as I've relied on her when emotional battles are just too much to handle alone.
My sister-in-law Megan who, after a difficult break up, told me I would find a man that would love me, and when she hugged me in the sealing room, whispered "I told you you'd find him!" and made me sob loudly.
My sister-in-law Julie, who died almost 10 years ago. She used to remind me that we are not meant to face our trials alone. She learned time and time again that she needed to rely on Heavenly Father, the atonement of our Savior, and the people around her. She taught me that asking for help in time of need is not a weakness, and that praying for strength is admirable.

I can testify that every mother is important, whether you have married into motherhood, given birth, adopted, or even if you're not called a mother of any sort but have loved children as an aunt, cousin, teacher, or neighbor, we all have a role. Even when we feel we are failing, we can remember these words: You were never meant to do it alone.

Emily Rose

As I looked through old blog posts, I realized I never made a post about the birth of my sweet Emily Rose! So here we are, 8 1/2 months late.

Thursday, June 28th 2018. I was at work, and I remember thinking I was as miserable and uncomfortable as I had ever been in a pregnancy. My boss and a couple coworkers commented about how I looked like I was "done" or "ready".

When I got home, I just laid down. I couldn't eat, or sleep, or do anything but sit around. The kids enjoyed the freedom to eat and do what they wanted. I think I knew labor was beginning, but everything seemed so different than my previous experiences, and I did not want to get my hopes up too soon. I had an appointment the next day anyway, I just tried to rest.

I ordered Papa John's pizza for dinner, it sounded good until it arrived and then I didn't want it. I had barely eaten all day, but I wasn't hungry. Just miserable. I finally started timing contractions, and sent Jason a screen shot of the app I was using to track them. He asked if he should come home, and I told him to finish up. No rush.

I got the kids ready for bed, and we put on a movie. When Jason came home we told the kids we were going to the hospital and would see baby Emily soon.

Labor was slow and miserable. Again, I kept thinking that none of my previous experiences were like this at all. The nurses implied they might send me home if things didn't start picking up. I was angry, and discouraged. I thought maybe I should have waited at home longer or timed the contractions more consistently. After several hours, I was starting to progress so they asked if I wanted an epidural. I had really wanted to try for another unmedicated birth, and I wanted to say "no" but I had been miserable so long, and I just wanted rest.

When it came time for Emily to be born, my doctor was unavailable. The doctor on-call was the same doctor that had delivered Karleah! It was really interesting (I want to say fun, but let's be honest, labor is NOT fun).

As Emily started her entrance to the world, one of the nurses said "oh, she has a necklace!" it took a while to register, but I looked at Jason and Dr Hutchison and saw their focus. I knew that the umbilical cord was around her neck. When the nurses told me to try and relax, I flashed back to Nathanael's birth (my unmedicated experience.) I remembered how those nurses had told me not to push, and wait for the doctor, even though it had been less than an hour since they suggested maybe I wasn't really in labor.... I could NOT stop pushing, no matter what they said. Nathanael was born before I had been admitted, and before the room was prepped. The doctor literally walked in at the last second. With that memory, I knew why I had felt the need for an epidural. I know I would have continued pushing and she could have been seriously hurt with that cord wrapped tightly around her neck.

As I waited for Dr Hutchison to ease the cord from around her neck, I heard Jason and the nurses talk about my beautiful girl. I couldn't see her, and I was so anxious. I was feeling a little upset that I couldn't see her. When I tried to look, all I saw were her arms flailing around between my legs. (it's funny now... but not then) When my sweet Emily Rose was finally out, she didn't want to cry and take that big, deep breath they want to hear from newborns. This is mainly due to my bipolar medications. (I had the same experience when TJ was born, but my dose had doubled since then so I was a lot more nervous this time around.)

She never did take a deep breath, or scream out like we wanted, and I wanted to cry because I wanted to hold her so bad. I think I've made up for that now, because I hold that little angel every chance I get.

She is perfect and healthy and happy. She's fun and has such a sweet personality and spirit. Her single dimple on the right cheek gives me such a thrill. She is definitely a blessing to all that know her.

Emily Rose #emilyrose was born on June 29th at 4:24am weighing in at 8 pounds 2 ounces.

Making A Difference

When I was a teenager, my dad was a Bishop for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. During that time, people from our ward (congregation) were always telling me how lucky I was to have him as my dad. Or how much they loved my dad, and how he had helped them with something in their life. I was already a daddy's girl, so I just nodded in agreement. I already knew that! I knew he was making a difference for so many people. Even now, over 20 years later, I occasionally hear from someone how much he helped, or how he was their favorite bishop, or how they love my Daddy.


On another note, I have always been a pretty shy/reserved person. It has taken a lot of work for me to even smile at strangers, or say "hi" if I see someone I know. So, I have always kind of been the person people forget about, or don't think to invite. Not to be dramatic, but it's true. I've seen it so many times throughout my life. Maybe it's more than just my quietness that makes me forgettable. I often feel like it's because I'm unlikeable.


Let me tie these two things together...…


I remember one night in particular, when I found out about a get-together after it had ended. People I thought were good friends had left me out, and I was very disheartened. I cried to my parents about how I wanted to make a difference, and how I wanted to be seen, remembered, included. My dad tried to show sympathy. He told me that he felt that way, too. He told me everybody feels forgotten at times. Through my sobs, I said something about how he had to know that he was helping people, because even I heard about it all the time. Years later, I'm realizing that even the outgoing, loveable people sometimes feel forgotten.


In my attempts to "make a difference" I have shared a lot about my struggles with depression, anxiety, a bipolar diagnosis, and now questioning that diagnosis. I have had 3 different blogs (1 private, one pre divorce, one post-divorce) to share what I experience daily, the ups and downs, and the beauty of one thing that has always been life-saving for me, my children.


There have been so many positives; people thanking me for helping them understand a loved one with similar struggles, or help them put words to their own feelings. When I did a presentation in college, I was approached by many students and even the teacher with stories of their own, or statements of gratitude.


On the flip side, I have been accused of selfishness, lying, exaggerating, or attention-seeking. I've been told it's "not that bad" or to "suck it up" "think happy" or "get over it". Some say I am sharing too much. I have had some unfriend or unfollow me on social media because they can't stand it. A couple have even screamed at me, or completely cut me out of their life. One person said I was depressing and it was too dark.


After years of blogging and sharing, I feel lost. Like I've already shared my story, and nobody wants or needs to hear it anymore. Like the stories of other friends are more important now. It's like my time in the proverbial spotlight has come and gone, so I should get used to the dark. You may think this is just the voice of depression. Maybe you'd be right, but now that my blogs no longer have views or comments, I can't see any other reason. I have been trying for months to understand this feeling, to put my racing thoughts into something others can understand. So, there it is.... my most recent pains and feelings.

Here we go again......

I've always prided myself on my ability to write. I could put words together on paper and it always came out so neatly. I could express things better that way. This is not going to be like that. Here is a brain dump, all the things running through my mind..... well, what I dare to share anyway.

When I was diagnosed bipolar 2, I had 4 young children. I was suicidal, and had been trying to find the right combination of medications to help me for at least 6 months. Once I got on the right medication, I found out I was pregnant. By the time that baby turned 2, I was separated.

Yesterday at an intense appointment, the psychiatrist I saw suggest maybe Bipolar 2 was the wrong diagnosis, or that possible things have just changed enough in my circumstances and my body (being pregnant a few times since that diagnosis....) that I no longer have the same "issues" for lack of a better term..... 

Tonight, I try to express some of the things I am afraid of as I face starting a new medication, a whole new diagnosis (again) and months of work to get the right "cocktail" together, that will probably only last a few years before I get to start this all over again. 

Mental illness is not like other illnesses. There isn't a way to test and decide which medication will work best, or what the exact type of illness is. The easiest comparison is cancer..... there are so many different kinds of cancer, and every type can be diagnosed, and a very specific plan put in place to treat it, from surgeries to medication, chemotherapy, radiation and more. Another example is an infection. When I had a kidney infection, a sample was sent to a lab, where tests were done to show which antibiotics would kill the infection. It took 5 different medications and several hospital visits, but it was "easy". This is different. So, so, so different. I wouldn't say "worse", but it is definitely full of struggles.

I am so scared to start down this path. I know I have to, because for over 2 years I have struggled. I am exhausted from trying to push away the dark. I am frustrated at the pain of constant racing, negative, dark, frightening thoughts. I am discouraged at the way I have been towards those who matter most to me. But I am terrified of what lies ahead. If I get suicidal again, or start crying without warning, or just shut down.... will I be home with just the babies? Will I be driving to pick up the kids from school? Will I be at work? In a public place? If I reach out to someone, will they be available? Will I lose friends again? Can I handle that again?

I am faced with an intense, burning hatred and jealousy for those "simple" illnesses that are quick to diagnose and treat. I am angry that when others struggle, they are given love and support and help when they need it. Appendicitis? We'll fix that. Fever? We have a medicine for that. Gall bladder? Back problems? Knee problems? Rest assured, there is a medicine or a surgery or a brace or something you need. And your loved ones will rally around you! Bring meals, call to check on you, offer help around the house as you recover, even a simple text message. But, a chemical imbalance in your brain? Behavioral or emotional struggles? Let's not talk about that. Stay in the dark with your terrifying thoughts.

Even worse, I find myself angry and envious of those I know who have dealt with mental illness and received help. So many people who've been hospitalized and were ashamed, yet still had so much support. I've never had a long term therapist, psychiatrist, counselor, or doctor. I've bounced around between crappy therapists and doctors that change practice or decide my issues are outside their expertise. I've had family doctors tell me I should stop relying on medicine. Friends tell me I'm just selfish and lazy. A counselor that questioned why I would be depressed when I have a good family, health, a steady job, a home, clothes, etc. 

As I tried to express some of this to Jason he asks what I want. The truth is, there is no good answer for me. I would turn down all offers of help. I'd be embarrassed if I had to rely on someone else in any way. I'd be ashamed, and probably end up beating myself up for not keeping up on my own. I don't want people to pity me, I know I have enough pity parties for myself! 

I just don't want to feel alone. I don't want to face the dark thoughts that are impossible to explain. The racing thoughts that leave me confused, unfocused, angry, irritable, frustrated. I know I'm not alone, and the last thing I want is more cliché comments about how I'm never alone. I know that deep inside. I know the Savior is there for me, and I know my parents, siblings, and extended family would help wherever possible. But this illness is very isolating for me. What I want is to curl up by the fire, cry uninterrupted, and drown out the awful thoughts that are racing around my brain. Maybe drown it out with chocolate and diet coke? But if that worked, it would have done so by now.