Not today.

Of all of the coping mechanisms that I employ, this is perhaps the easiest and the most effective.  

I don’t know how I’ll feel tomorrow…
…tomorrow is a different day

Music has always been a big part of my life, and this song holds special significance to me.  The first time that I heard it was on the television program, “Joan of Arcadia”.  Joan, who regularly talks to God in various forms, has been diagnosed with mental illness for believing that she is talking to God.  She’s returned home from a summer camp for crazy kids, and trying to return to her previous life.  It was heartbreaking to watch her try to explain her struggles to those around her, knowing that they are judging her and watching for any sign of recurrence.  

And I wanna believe you,
When you tell me that it'll be ok,
Yeah, I try to believe you,
But I don't.

There are days when I feel like everything is out of control and I just can’t take one more ‘hit from the snake’, so to speak.  I can tell that my resources are low and that given the right trigger, I’m going to lose it.  Over the edge.   I’m not sure if it will be fits of crying, or anger at anyone who looks my direction, but it won’t be pretty.

My mind starts to wander, and it never heads into a good neighborhood.  I start listing all of the things that are wrong in my life, all of the things that I have failed at.  I start to overthink everything, and see patterns where they don’t exist.  

Everything begins to take on a sinister twist, and I’m sure that the universe is conspiring against me.  To be fair, I’m sure that the universe is simply trying to balance the scales against my failures, but it is against me, nonetheless.   

I get angry that no one seems to notice that I’m hanging by a thread.   

That’s when this song starts to play in my head.  Because even if I can’t take one more minute of today, there’s always tomorrow.  If I can just get through THIS day, things will be different.  

Gimme a little time,
Leave me alone a little while,
Maybe it's not too late,
not today

                I feel myself retreating into the darkness, but not succumbing.  I can pull back and let myself recover.  Take a breath.  I can let the darkness surround me while I hide in the shadows and look out.  Not so far that I can’t see the light, but far enough that I’m not going to get burned. 

              

                 And I wait.

And I know that I’m not ready
Maybe tomorrow

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel stronger.  Maybe I’ll be in control of myself and my surroundings.  Maybe someone will see my struggle and take my hand.  Maybe, the world will just be better tomorrow.  And if not, I’ve given myself the time that I need to keep it together.

Things can be so much worse if you let yourself get dragged into the darkness.  

And I wanna believe you,
When you tell me that it'll be ok,
Yeah I try to believe you,
Not today, today, today, today, today...

Tomorrow it may change

For now, I’m going to bed.  Taking a bath.  Not going to think about the walls that are closing in on me.  A good night’s sleep is never a bad thing.  Tomorrow is, after all, another day.

Is it over yet?

Is it over yet?  Can I open my eyes?

So swells the song by Kelly Clarkson, “Cry”. 

Is it over yet? 

Can I open my eyes? 

Is this as hard as it gets?

Is this what it feels like to really cry? 

A few years ago, I attended the State Wrestling Tournament.  The championship matches are intense, as they have come so far, and they are not going to give up now.  Some are seniors, their last chance at achieving greatness.  Some have had an undeafeated season, and don’t want their last and most important match to be the first that they lose.  The emotion is compelling, and it’s almost as entertaining to watch what happens off of the mat as it is to watch what happens on the mat.

Upsets are usually accompanied by jumps, flips, and sometimes even whooping.  Coaches slap one another on the back and wrestlers jump into their arms.   It’s enough to make your heart swell.  But remember, there are two competitors.  The losers show equal amounts of grief, anguish, and despair.  There are a few that behave like gentlemen and congratulate their opponent heartily, but not that many.  A few are downright angry and behave like children, hardly shaking hands with each other or the coaches.  Then, there is Starfish Man.

Starfish man was a tiny little guy, probably about a 125 pounder.  He finished his match, and with tears streaming down his face, he shook hands and walked off the mat with dignity.  And then he crumbled.  I mean, literally fell into a heap on the tarmac, just off of the mat.  He lay prostrate on the ground, pulling at the hair on both sides of his head.  His coaches bent to speak to him, but he didn’t move.   They patted him on the back, but he didn’t move.  They looked at one another and tried to lift him up, but he was dead weight.  They shrugged and just stood there by him until he composed himself and stood up.   It took quite some time for him to come to this point. 

I can identify with that.  In my depressed state of mind, I’ve always felt like I wanted to be a starfish, laying on a rock somewhere.  The water can wash over you, but it can’t move you.  You become one with your surroundings, so much so that you become…invisible.     I could just BE and let everything wash over and past me and I don’t even have to react to it.

I imagine that Starfish man felt the same way.  He was in a crowded stadium with no less than 20,000 people in it, but in that moment, he was all alone.  Face down, eyes squeezed shut, he  could imagine that no one could see him, no one could touch him.  He could let the hurt and anger and frustration just wash over him.

Being depressed becomes such a  great deal of work.  You fight to keep your head above water, you fight to maintain your dignity, you fight to keep the demons from closing in on you.  Your enemy is your own mind, and you cannot escape it.  I’ve envied starfish for so long.

Is it over yet?

Can I open my eyes?

Is this as hard as it gets?

Is this what it feels like to really cry?

The first time that I heard this song, I stopped dead in my tracks.  That’s exactly how I feel when I think that I can’t go on anymore!  When I’ve been battered by the waves for so long, and there’s no end in sight.  If I knew that daylight were just around the corner…if I knew that this was the worst of it…then I might be able to bear the unbearable.    

This past couple of days have been rough in our household.    We’ve had some standard family drama, with a bit of door slamming, raised voices, and emotional outbursts.  We’ve not had a great deal of this with the boys growing up, thankfully, but now that they are nearly grown, we’ve added girls to the mix.  Enough said?

Things were said that I’m sure that we don’t mean, not really.   In the heat of the moment, it is blurted out and then there’s no taking it back.  You can apologize, but the damage is done.  That kind of hurt takes a while to wash away.  The really difficult part is that in loving my children, in wanting the best for them, I fail.  It is the desire to make their lives perfect that exacerbates the situation and frustrates me.  Their inability to understand these actions and more importantly, their motives, often puts me in an adversarial position. 

One of my children has turned his back on me, and my heart is broken.  It might be for a day, for a week, or for years, I have no way of knowing.  Is it over yet?  Can I open my eyes?

I feel like I’m waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.  The fear creeps in.  The doubt.  The self-evaluation.  I should have, I could have.  I haven’t done enough.  I’ve done too much.   I begin to see so many other things that I have failed at.  My failure as a child to my parents.  My failure as a mother.  My failure as a wife, as a disciple of Christ, as a worker, as a friend, as a sister, a cousin, a .  They are all so connected, and when one thing falls, it brings the whole lot with it. 

I’ll give myself a few days to feel sorry, to worry, to feel helpless.  I might even lay down on the floor and pull my own hair.  Is this as hard as it gets?

And then…it will be time to get up off of the mat and leave the stadium.  You can’t be a starfish forever, and you can’t let the depression and cognitive dysfunction sweep you away.  What’s left?  Where do you go from there? 

I’m not sure yet.  I have no idea what the future holds for me and my child. I guess that is up to him.  It has definitely pointed out that we have some things to work on as a family.   Right now, it feels like everything is my fault, and everyone is placing the blame entirely on my shoulders.  Thanks to a great therapist, I know that is not true, and there are more personalities involved that need to share in the responsibility.  I know where I need to get to, I just don’t know how to get there. 

I have to let go with my little suckers, leave the rock, and just keep swimming. 

Save Your Freaks

This is a skill that I learned when I was rushed to the hospital at 32 weeks pregnant, unsure of whether or not my baby would be born prematurely, scared to death that he would be in the hospital forever and have complications. I knew that things could go from bad to worse in a matter of hours…or minutes…and I also knew that once the tears started, it was not likely that I’d get them to stop.

So here was my theory…if I freaked out right from the beginning, something really bad might happen, and I wouldn’t have any ‘freak tokens’ left. I would already be over the edge, and have nowhere to escalate to. I told myself that if I stayed calm, then I would have plenty of ‘reserve’ freaking that I could do later if necessary.

What happened is that I was calm, cool, and collected. Okay, reasonably so. I felt the Spirit with me each day, and I was able to handle things fairly well. I liked knowing that I had reserved the right to freak … later.

I tried to teach this to my nieces, CJ and Allie last summer. Having a house full of boys, the drama is somewhat limited. Not so with two tweenish girls!  Everything is a big deal, and I know that for Bro and Sis, it’s bound to get worse. I was a teenage girl once. I know how it works.

One of them was upset about something, and started to stomp off and pout. I laughed and called her back, explaining the ‘save your freaks’ option of life. They thought that I was a funny, but I hope that in some way, I caught their attention.

Teens would do well to follow my advice, since everything is a tragedy. Problem is, after your parents (or friends, or boyfriends, or teachers…) have dealt with so many freaks, they lose interest. It’s like the boy who cried wolf. They no longer see your crisis as a crisis. It’s just another dramatic episode. Saving those really big freaks for a later date gives you that leverage to get their attention.

For me, it means keeping my emotions in check. I’m not bottling anything. I deal with the emotions in a much less stressful way. I force myself to think things out and decide if it’s really worth a nervous breakdown, or if I can save that for another day.

So far, no straight jacket, so I’m thinking that it must be working!

That I’m not a quivering mass of jelly is a real testament to my therapist….

Things change.
Stuff happens.
And it used to really throw me for a loop.
I worried.
I wondered.
I obsessed.
I panicked.
“What will happen to me? I like things the way that they are! Things could get so much worse! I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m not in control!”

Ah, there’s the rub. I’m not in control.

She taught me that sometimes, we hold on to something so tightly that our arms are not open to receive the next good thing. She taught me that SAME is not equal to PERFECT. She taught me that I’m better than the things that life throws at me.

Work is crazy right now. Things are changing. More responsibility is falling on me. That means, potentially, more criticism. More mistakes.

BUT! It could also be more praise. More success.

I’m taking things in stride. Things may change, but I don’t have to worry about it. It will either get worse or get better, with no intervention on my part. I’ll figure it out when I get there. We are just getting through today, and then we’ll worry about tomorrow.

I’m good at what I do. I have confidence in that, now. I have skills and talents that have been given to me by my Heavenly Father to do good in this life. Some of those skills also earn me a good living. They contribute to the success of a great number of people, who also earn a good living.

When I began this job, there were doubts. It’s a high-turnover property in a fast paced industry. I knew that my days may be numbered. I was warned that it might be too much stress; that my boss was known for cycling through employees faster than you could get your desk organized. He was demanding and difficult sometimes. Even my therapist talked about the inherent lack of longevity.

I walked in with both eyes open. I decided that if it didn’t work out, at least I tried. I’d been unemployed before, and I could do it again. I decided that I would just do the best that I could, and leave the car running, so to speak.

I also made the decision that I would not live to please men. (speaking figuratively, as in MANKIND, not the male gender!) At the end of the day, if I had pleased my God, then I had succeeded. It didn’t matter if I had failed to please my boss, or the big bosses, or even the board. As long as I had done a good, honest day’s work in all fairness to my employer, and I had been good to people along the way, then it was a good day.

I loved it right from the start. It’s stressful, it’s hectic, it is sometimes downright frustrating. There have been moments when I wondered if I wanted to go back. But I always do, and I look forward to it! It’s challenging and fulfilling in a way that I have not experienced in a long, long time.

Yes, my boss was difficult and demanding sometimes. There were days when I just let him rant, while I sat quietly. He expressed gratitude for those days that I let him “be himself” and vent a little. I didn’t take it personally, and I didn’t let it get to me. I know that he is not my final judge; my salvation does not depend on whether or not he is pleased with my work. I could let him blow up, because it didn’t concern me.

By the time he left to work in another state, we had a system. We worked well together, and others commented that I had lasted a lot longer than they expected. He and I had an understanding, and I came to love and respect him. I think that he kinda liked me, too.

Now, we are waiting for another Director to be hired. He/she might be easier to work with. They might not. It’s all the same to me.

I’m dealing with things as they come, and juggling all of the balls that I can in the interim. I no longer feel the need to control everything to make sure that it happens the way that I want, because I know that my Heavenly Father knows better than I do what I need – or even want – and I can trust Him.

So, back to the title… my brief time in therapy not only brought me back to myself, but taught me some valuable tools to use every day. These tools allow me to step back, for a moment, and allow myself to see things as they are, and not as the depression would paint them.

I make mistakes without wallowing in them. I can leave work nearly in tears, but that by the time I reach my car, I have talked myself down. I’ve reasoned with myself and realized that in the grand scheme of things…it is not such a big deal. I can listen to songs with emotional intensity and be entertained and moved by them…and not feel them to the point of falling into the abyss. And thankfully, I can remember that not so long ago, I couldn’t do those things by myself.

My therapist probably has no idea that she saved my life. I had no idea, prior to my time with her, that depression was something that could be conquered. Until then, I thought that it was manageable. She needs to know that she succeeded on so many levels with me.

I think of her often, as I go about my day. As I confidently approach tasks that are new to me. As I direct others in their tasks. As I deal with confrontation. But especially, as I walk with my head held high and without looking back.

Next chapter: Tux is planning to move out. Hyperventilation ahead!!!

Indeterminate Bereftivity

You know what I mean…when you feel like you’ve lost something, but can’t remember what it is? Like it was wiped from your memory, but you still miss it.

That feeling that something is not right, but you are not sure what it is that is wrong? Or maybe it’s not wrong, but it’s definitely not right? Either way, it’s unsettling, but you have no idea where to go to fix it or fill the hole that it left behind, because you can’t even find the hole.

That’s today.

One of those days that you have to just fill the space with something good, something that edges out that empty feeling.

First step: giving it a name. Check.

Now, on to the good stuff!

Undecorating the Tree

Taking down the tree for me this year has been a strange experience.

I’m the type of Christmas decorator that loves to break out the boxes of ornaments and doodads on Thanksgiving weekend, filling my house with more than enough festivity. I love everything Christmas, everything sparkly…and it can be dollar store or from Macy’s, it makes no difference to me. I leave it all up, including a clock that plays carols every hour, until New Year’s. Then I begrudgingly take it down, glad to have the house clean and uncluttered, but sad to see it all go.

Not so this year.

It was a crazy year for the holidays. Not only had I started a new job, but it was one that required a great deal of time and energy through the holidays to prepare for big events on the job. Two weeks before wrestling season began, Addy the Musician decided to wrestle after all. (Mothers of wrestlers – and daughters of coaches – know that you MUST be prepared for the holidays before Thanksgiving in order to survive, as you spend most of December, January, and February at Tournaments and matches!)

It was more than that, though, as this year was so much harder than even last year in terms of the economy. Even though I am back to work, I have added expenses that have rendered my income LESS than what I was making last year on unemployment. More importantly, I see the signs everywhere that folks are struggling. Business has been sparse and sporadic, and no one knows what will happen next. It is impossible to predict business in any industry, as this is uncharted territory. As such, hours have been cut, budgets slashed in an effort to stay alive through the recession. Many businesses have failed in our area, and others are barely holding on.

It is changing life as we know it. This may seem simple, but I can illustrate my point with scrapbooking magazines. I’ve always subscribed to all of the different magazines, from Creating Keepsakes to Memory Makers and Simple Scrapbooks, Scrapbooks, etc. and anything else that hit the shelves. I love the ideas and inspiration, as well as the creative process. In the last year, most of these magazines have folded. Only the major ones remain, and who knows how long that will last? I have never seen so many cars for sale alongside the road. Even if you had money to spend on Christmas, the stores had bare shelves and limited stock on what they did have. The list goes on and on.

My own family is changing, too. With Tux turning 19 and attending community college, Addy in High School, and Todd in private preschool at his daycare, we are all going different directions. They are all growing up so fast, it’s hard to believe, and I’m not ready for my babies to be all growed up. Tux is straining at the apron strings. I’m not ready to untie him yet. Addy is thinking that he, too, can exert his independence in many ways…some of which are not age appropriate. Todd is the usual toddler, and having been raised with teenage brothers, he can hold his own in an argument – and usually does.

This changing landscape at home was more difficult during the holidays, as they no longer delight in all that is Christmas. Oh, sure, they want the gifts, and everyone sucked up to Santa throughout the month to ensure said gifts. But they didn’t enjoy the décor, or the joy of the holiday. I heard them complain constantly about my clock…which usually brings me joy. This year, I’m not sure if I left it up just hoping that it would spark that spirit in my heart, or if I just wanted to prove that I was still in control by leaving it up.  They refused to watch Christmas movies or specials, and I didn’t even try to fill the house with the usual carols.

We have had a longstanding tradition of driving to see the Christmas lights, and bellowing, “HO HO HO!” at the most beautifully decorated houses. Ones that are trying, but not quite there get a “HO HO”, and those that are pitiful receive something along the lines of “Ha ha ho” or simply an unenthusiastic “Ho”. Tux has endured it since he was six, but this year, he simply refused. Addy was too busy. It was nice that Todd got into it, however, so we did get a couple of good nights.

The tree, the lights, the ornaments, the Santa figures, the nativities…all wasted on the boys. They could have cared less.

Perhaps this is normal, particularly in an all male household. I tried to tell myself that as I decorated, but three weeks later when it was time to take it down, I wondered why I had bothered. It wasn’t as if I had a great deal of time to devote to it, but I had because I felt that I needed to be ‘that kind of mother’.

I imagine myself as the defender of our traditions. The keeper of our memories and joys. Each ornament has a story, a special place in our history. The “windows on the World” ornaments that began with “Feliz Navidad”, because I was taking Spanish in high school that year. The god’s eye that I made in first grade. The scratched up bulbs that were on my parent’s first Christmas tree some 45 years ago.

Each ornament has it’s own storage box, labeled with a description so that each is returned to it’s own place. I provide years and givers if they were gifts. I look forward to the night that we decorate each year…a Christmas movie playing on the TV (Usually “Christmas Vacation”), drinking egg nog, and talking about each ornament and favorite memories associated with it. I decorated alone this year.

I took it down tonight by myself. The family did come out to watch “National Treasure”, which I put in. That was a nice surprise, as they are usually so busy with their own activities. But I was the only one to admire the stunning ornaments like the Christopher Radko Mickey Mouse, the hand painted baby Jesus on a golden ball. The only one to reminisce about the candy cane that Tux made at his very first cub scout activity, or the gingerbread man that is dressed like Elvis that Addy made at school. To recall the time that Hubby whisked me off for a surprise visit to Las Vegas the beginning of December, and the Excalibur ornament that I bought to commemorate it. To ponder the true meaning of the season looking at the kneeling Santa before the manger.

And yet, some of those memories were painful, too. I found ornaments that were made during times of my life when I thought that I had good friends - nearly family - only to find out that I meant nothing to them when the bumps came along. I found myself trying to decide if I should keep them, or if they were just too much to hold on to. I've moved on, and I have a new life, one that does not include these toxic people in it, and I'm happy now. Did I want to keep those reminders of those that had hurt me so deeply? I eventually decided to keep them - one more year. To allow myself to really heal and evaluate them a bit more objectively. They didn't make the cut to the tree this year, but I wasn't quite ready to throw out so many years of my life forever, either.

I’d always thought that these things would be cherished as I cherish them. Not just the ornaments, but the memories. I thought that it would be something that I lovingly passed down to my sons and their families as they grew up. That they would look forward to sharing this each year. That even when I was old and grey, I would still decorate the tree with my grandchildren, and share these special times.

My mom didn’t even put one ornament on her tree this year. We usually do Christmas morning at my house, and dinner at hers. This year, we would be eating dinner at the Fire Station, where my dad was on duty. She just didn’t see the point. She put up half of the ten foot tree – which left it a bit misshapen and short – with simple strings of lights and called it good. No Christmas village. Just the sad tree.

She may not have missed putting up her decorations, but I did. Her ornaments are as special to me as my own, as I see my past hanging on the branches. I see my history, my memories, my childhood. Will I give up, too, when I get to that stage of my life?

It was especially poignant to me, as the older boys are balking at some of the other things that I have tried to teach them throughout the years. Not only our faith, but matters of family and personal growth. I am seeing that I am not going to accomplish all that I had planned as a mother. Yes, yes, I realize that they have their own free agency, and NO child is going to live up to the ideal that we set for our goal. (heaven knows, I have disappointed my parents plenty!) Faced with raising another child, I am torn between providing the same level of parenting that I did the first time around for Todd…or should I simply relax and not try so hard to be the perfect mother? Will it hurt less if he doesn’t become the man that I was hoping to raise, if I don’t put that much into it? Will my children even look back once they have left the nest? I know that every mother worries about these things…at least, I believe that they do.

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be normal. I’ve had a depressed mind for most of my life, as near as I can tell, and I wonder if I am the only one that pines for such sentimental things as I do. Am I the only one that mourns the end of an era? That notices when the details are being lost in the shuffle, and the effort is no longer there?

Right now, I’m chalking it up to fatigue (work has really been draining this last two weeks), and the usual blues that come after the holidays. I’m blaming it on the weather. I’m throwing it out with the last year, ready to go into 2010 with a brighter outlook. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t bid a more heavy hearted farewell to each ornament, wondering if I would want to bring them all out again next year.

I think that I’ll finish cleaning up and allow myself those moments of melancholy…just for tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’ll rejoice in the fact that the clock is silent and so are the complaints, the family room is now 9 sq feet bigger, and my shelves and tables have all been cleaned and shined before returning their regular décor.

I will no longer have to check the nativities to make sure that the animals are not wandering off (thanks to the teenage boys) or that the Santas are standing up and not dead after Todd shooting them with a Nerf gun. And if nothing else, it gave me a good excuse to write for a minute… something that I’ve missed terribly and enjoy very much.

It’s all in perspective.

Here’s to 2010!

Lessons in the everyday

Every writer has their “thing”…a certain style that they use repeatedly throughout their works. I’ve struggled with this, because I’d love to be truly in the minds of my characters like Stephen King, or perceptive like Jodi Picoult. I’ve come to realize that my particular style is more suited to the mundane. I’ll never be a bestselling author, having my writings read by millions. I’ve also realized that sometimes, a large audience does not necessarily mean success, and we can accomplish great things in small ways.

My writings are almost always about the lessons in the everyday. I am always looking for ways to explain life lessons by using everyday objects or situations that will be easy for my audience to understand. In doing so, I hope that they will gain an appreciation for the more difficult topics, and come to understand these, as well.

For instance, I explain the stock market using a can of tuna as a visual. If you buy a can of tuna for $1, and then there is a huge tuna shortage and it’s in high demand, selling for $5 a can, have you gained anything really? No, because you have not sold your can of tuna. If you find someone to sell it to for $5, then you gain $4. If the price of tuna drops significantly for some odd reason, have you lost money? Not unless you actually sell your can of tuna. You get the idea.

I walk the dog early in the morning, which is getting darker and darker every day. I am always on the lookout during these walkabouts for a photo opportunity in the neighborhood. I am always watching for that one shot that will be different and exciting. It fascinates me how light is such a part of everything that we do and see, and how it falls is particularly interesting.

I’ve noticed, for instance, that our driveway is flat and boring in the daylight. It is paved, with about six feet of gravel between the paving and the actual road. It looks like rocks. But in the darkness, with only house lights to shine on it, you begin to see striations.

This morning, it was also flooded with rainwater, filling the gaps with water that reflected the light. I saw for the first time that there are actually horizontal grooves in the rocks. I stood and pondered it for a few minutes, wondering what would have caused such wear on the rocks. We drive in vertically, of course, tires rolling forward in a straight path – nothing that would cause these long crosswise troughs. The driveway was not smoothed by the graders, which may have left these grooves. I’m really not sure how it has happened.

Of course, I saw life lessons here.

First, I marveled at how we can see something that is so common as to escape our interest, suddenly turned into a topic of great wondering. Simply by the light that is shed upon it. It is like this with any great truth. We see it a hundred times, never noticing the detail. And then one day, it is illuminated from another angle, and there it is. It is suddenly very clear to you, even though when you look back a few minutes later, it might not be so. You have to capture that picture, commit it to memory.


It also made me think of politics, and how differently we can see things, one from another. Something that is so inherently RIGHT to us may seem darn near evil to someone else, depending on how they are looking at it. I have this wonderful, beautiful, sensitive cousin that stands on the “other side” of the political fence from me. I love to talk with her, because she always sheds new perspective on any issue. It’s not that I’m right and she’s wrong – or even the other way around. It’s merely a matter of seeing things from a different point of view. Like the driveway, an issue that has always been a smooth, easy path may suddenly appear to have missing pieces, or deep grooves that need to be explained.


Because I have lived with a depressed mind for all of my life, I also had to smile at how it mimics our lives. Day to day, we don’t see the things that make up the big picture. We see the individual rocks, layers of tiny pebbles piled upon one another. Worn smooth by time, friction, and laid low by the slow, steady crushing afforded by the wheels of the cars that travel along our path. Then, one day, we look behind us and see that the path is not as smooth and uneventful as we imagine. There are patterns of behavior that emerge over time, leaving indelible designs on our lives.

I know that I have quirks and personality traits that have been hewn by the stressors that I have been dealt. Some of these are merely a mention in the story of my life, as they do not affect my eternal salvation one way or another. Some, however, can cause ruts that trip me up from time to time. Overcoming these unnatural grooves is the key to a fulfilling life, despite the ravages of this earthly life.

That is where the rainwater comes in, filling in the channels. Smoothing out the rough edges. I have to guess that this is what the Atonement is all about. It’s up to us to identify our flaws and seek to make them as smooth as possible. Christ will then flood us with His love to fill in the gaps.

It’s a lovely thought, considering my disdain for water. But that’s a story for another time.

What lessons have you learned in your everyday today?

Diamonds in the Dark

“You know, Rob Thomas has either suffered from depression, or knows someone who has,” Hubby mused.

“hmmm” I agree, loading the dishwasher.

I think of the song “Unwell”, that I can identify with, but that makes me laugh. That song bothers Hubby and makes him feel down. I’ve listened to the voices that it talks about, and I’ve wondered a thousand times if I’ve lost my mind. In the wee hours of the morning, I’ve even typed it in at ask.com. Am I crazy? The answer was not definitive.

“3 AM” is another one that I cling to, knowing what it feels like to only sleep when it’s raining. I’ve screamed, and my voice is strained. I can’t help but be scared of it all sometimes.

“Have you heard that new Rob Thomas?” He asks another day. “Her Diamonds?”

“Only on the radio…” I answered.

“Oh. It’s a good song.” He leaves it at that.

And on yet another day, “I put the new Rob Thomas on your hard drive.”

I was looking forward to listening to it, but being back at work full time has taken a lot of my time and most of my energy. At night, I try to spend as much time with Todd as I can, and then do my fair share of housework. I’m not really doing a very good job at that; I feel like Hubby is doing most of it right now.

“Here.” He puts his new MP3 player in my hands and stuffs the earphones in my ears. “It’s got great sound for a little tiny thing.” He starts Rob Thomas playing and wanders off to take the dog outside.

I’m unloading the dryer and I catch a bit of the lyrics, understanding what Hubby meant about Rob’s familiarity with depression.

“And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
But if she feels bad then I do, too
So I let her be”

He passes by the doorway. “Hey,” I yell after him. “I see what you mean.”

He nods.

The song is nearing the end, and I am just getting the feel for it. I start it over again and sit down to really listen:

Oh what the hell she said
I just can't win for losing
And she lays back down
Man there's so many times
I don't know what I'm doing
Like I don't know now

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Says it's funny how the night
Can make you blind
I can just imagine
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
But if she feels bad then i do too
So I let her be

And she says oh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can't help her now
She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She sits down and stares into the distance
And it takes all night
And i know i could break her concentration
But it don't feel right

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Sits down on the bed and starts to cry
And there's something less about her
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
So I sit down and I cry too
And don't let her see

And she says oh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can't help her now
She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She shuts out the night
Tries to close her eyes
If she can find daylight
She'll be alright
She'll be alright
Just not tonight

And she says oh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can't help her now
She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down


I start to cry. I remember what it’s like to be in that dark place. You have no idea how dark and lonely it is, if you have never been there yourself. You forget, even if you have been there. You tell yourself that it wasn’t as bad as you remember. You convince yourself that it can’t possibly be that dark, that deep, that terrifying.

This song captures it perfectly. He KNOWS. He cannot possibly write this without having experienced it in some way. Depression is not something that you can describe from the outside.

You stare…you concentrate on staying alive, because it feels like any minute you could shatter. It’s all you can do to just keep breathing, knowing that it might just be easier to succumb to the darkness.

Somewhere, you understand that it can’t be easy for those who love you. You know that you need to pretend, if only for their sake. You just don’t have enough energy to do that, and feeling bad that you are ignoring their needs only pulls you farther into the pain.

By now, I’m sobbing. I’m feeling such grief for the me that lived there. I’m grateful to be in the sunshine again. (at least for now? You always wonder if the darkness will return) I’m feeling vulnerable, as if Rob has been watching. This song could be me.

Hubby walks by again.

“How many times did you listen to it before you didn’t cry?” I ask. I’m still wiping big crocodile tears from my eyes.

“Told you.” He seems relieved. “Now you know what it was like to be me.”

And the song could be Hubby. He tried, he really tried to reach me. I’m just not sure that it’s possible to reach that far. All he could do was watch and hope. My parents, too, stood by and tried to help. I am blessed with a good support system, and yet…the depression was so much stronger.

I notice that the song is not dark, though. It’s upbeat and catchy, which is why I never really paid much attention to the lyrics on the radio. It’s hopeful in a strange sort of way.

And then I cry because the song talks about her tears being diamonds. Diamonds! Beautiful, sparkling diamonds. Not ugly. Not the way that I see them.

Is it possible to love someone when they are depressed? It’s not easy to live with them, to be sure. It’s not easy to watch. It’s not pretty, and yet, Rob said it. Diamonds.

I remember a picture that I took the same morning that I took the dandelion photo for Wish, Wonder, Believe. There was something about the dew on the grass that fascinated me. The light sparkling through this field of droplets…tiny little diamonds surrounding a fallen leaf. A dead leaf.

Could it be that through it all, I could be loved? That I could not only be forgiven for not being perfect, but that someone could see beauty there?

That would have been impossible to believe, back then. There was little to support the theory. Losing my job was nothing compared to learning that the friends that I had cherished had turned their backs on me when I needed them the most. They knew that I was suffering beyond anything that I had ever suffered before…and they purposely stayed away. I could only believe that what I was was so ugly that it was beyond making an effort.

I know better now. They have their flaws, and I have mine. I can almost feel pity for them, listening to this song. My tears are diamonds, and they have lost a friendship that was true and honest, simply because they couldn’t ride out the bumps in the road. They abandoned me, leaving me to believe that I wasn’t worth the time. They didn’t love me enough to see the diamonds.

Hubby takes the MP3 player back. “I knew that you hadn’t really listened to it,” he says. “Because you hadn’t said anything.”

I dry my eyes one last time and remind myself that not all Hubbies would cry with their wives. Not every family hangs in there while you find the daylight. And neither do friends. But some do, and those of you who have been beside me throughout this and previous depressive episodes, I will cherish always. I know that the love that I feel for you is returned.

If you know someone who is depressed, don’t give up on them. They can’t find their way sometimes, but they need you. They need to know that someone will be there when they do step into the sunlight. They need to know that they are worth loving, worth saving.

If you are the one that is depressed, take heart. You aren’t as lost as you think you are. Someone has been there before, along that sinister path, and lived to tell the tale. You will, too. Then turn back and see what you can do to lead others out of the gloom.

Thanks, Rob.

And more than that, thanks, Hubby! You did know what to do after all.

Hear "Her Diamonds" and view the video!

Just when you think that you have it all together...

I wasn’t going to write today. I’ve been out of town and missed so many days anyway, it seemed like the right thing to do. Especially since I woke up feeling physically not well…and mentally even worse.

Of course, I’m feeling a little lonesome for the family that I had to leave, even though it’s wonderful to be back with my own family. I just see Bro’s family so seldom that it’s hard to say goodbye.

I know that I am suffering from “jet lag”, that post-vacation syndrome in which all of the running and not sleeping that you did on vacation comes back to haunt you. I’d also suffered from allergies or some sort of cold, and that was wearing on me. And of course, coming back from vacation, you are always overwhelmed by the realities of life that come back all at once, like bills and responsibilities.

Before I left, I put some spare jewelry in a Ziploc baggy…everything gets packed in Ziploc bags…but it never made it to my destination. I’m really not sure that I actually packed it, as it was one of the last things to be packed, and I was debating as to where it should be stowed for safekeeping. There wasn’t anything of great value – monetarily speaking, anyway – but they were things that meant a lot to me and I cannot find them anywhere.

I’m frustrated by a world that places such a value on dishonesty, and rewards this heavily. I always fall short because I can’t seem to get it through my thick skull that honesty may be the best policy, but it means that you will never catch a lucky break.

When I get into this sort of mood, it’s easy to see the cracks in the sidewalk, so to speak. To see that the state of the economy is scary and getting scarier. The news is never good. A ten year old girl that disappeared in our area before I left has not been found. Iranian guards are raping young girls to make their executions legal.

I turn to my “happy things”…a technique that I’ve employed with my depression for many years. I go to the things that make me happy, like scrapbooking, reading, and so on. I’ve not had a lot of time to do these things, as I’m unpacking and have other things that NEED to be done. Or at least, I have myself convinced that they should be. What I need to do is stop with the things that are making me crazy today and just do what I want to do, what will make me whole again for my family.

Here are some techniques that my therapist recommended, and I highly recommend to everyone:

1) Recognize that you are sinking. You need to catch it before it drags you into the depths and you are unable to pull yourself out.

2) Do something that makes you feel good! You should have a list of things that you enjoy doing, things that make you happy. Activities, sounds, sights, anything that you can bring to mind to ease your troubled soul. Take the time today to do three things that are on your list, especially when you are recognizing a downward trend.

3) When all else fails, let today be your down day. Cry if you need to, feel sorry for yourself, and wallow a bit. But promise yourself that you will not allow this tomorrow. Tomorrow is a new day, and you can overcome these feelings of hopelessness then.

I think that I’ll take some Tylenol, let the tears flow, and pull out some pictures to scrapbook. I’ll hang with my family and ignore the dog hair that has accumulated in the corners, the suitcases that need to be unpacked, and the bills that have yet to be paid. I may plant some crops on FarmTown and read a little Harry Potter.

Tomorrow, we’ll face the world again.

Asking Yourself the Hard Questions

I believe that in order to truly be whole, we need to know ourselves. Of course, we know what our favorite color is, what we like to do…all of the usual things. But do you know WHY? Have you asked yourself the hard questions, and heard the answer clearly?

It’s so easy to lie to yourself. We do it all of the time, to justify our actions, or to eliminate pain. It’s a great defense against the barrage of messages that bombard us every day, chipping away at our psyche, making us question our beliefs.

But is it healthy? I’m going to say no, as a general rule.

Even our most mundane tendencies can usually be explained, and the explanation might just be as mundane as the idea itself. But what of the times that it is not? When the tendency is something that hurts us, or hurts our loved ones around us? That is when it becomes necessary to question our motives and discover what makes us tick, so to speak.

It sounds easy, doesn’t it? But don’t kid yourself, we are very good liars, especially when it is to ourselves! We WANT to believe the inaccuracies that protect us from making changes that may be painful to address.

Here’s a simple example: Seat belts. There are laws to ensure that we wear our seat belts, whether we like them or not. This practice may or may not save lives, depending on whom you ask, but our responses are more important. Do you readily agree to this, because it is a law? Or do you chafe against the idea that someone is telling you what to do? Do you avoid wearing your seat belt just to prove that you CAN? Even though you believe that it will save your life?

It gets more complicated.

I have a real pet peeve about people falling asleep on the couch, watching TV. It used to make me crazy! I would get so irritated at people, and I had quite a few friends who made a regular habit of it.

But why did it irk me so?

It came down to the fact that I am a schedule girl, a deliberate girl, and one that sees everything as a procedure. I simply cannot “fall asleep”, because there are things that must be done before one goes to sleep. Put on pajamas, brush your teeth, turn off the lights…that sort of thing. To simply drift off in front of the TV set implies that you have no regard for these duties. Or that you are too lazy to do so.

Is that true? Of course not! Everyone has different priorities and ways of doing things, and that does not mean that one is right and another wrong. Once I came to terms with this, I am much more tolerant of drifters. Which is the way that it should be, of course.

I had a real eye opener once when I was talking with a cousin that is much more laid back in her approach to parenting. At the time, I was a stickler for bath, teeth brushed, pajamas, put the babies to bed routine. I would pack to go visit my family, and it took many suitcases just for me and the two boys. She, on the other hand, arrived at home with a couple of suitcases and six children in tow. I was amazed that she could travel so lightly, so we were discussing how she did it.

She never carried her own hair appliances, as she would borrow her sisters’ when she arrived. And she only packed a few changes of clothes for each of her children. What it came down to is that she would allow her children to wear the same clothes, both day and night, for a couple of days. I was shocked. That was just….WRONG! Children need clean pajamas! Children need clean clothes! There was impropriety here! She simply shrugged it off, laughing that it really didn’t matter to her.

I thought about it for a few days after our talk. I simply could not bring myself to allow my children to sleep in their clothing…even if I planned to bathe them and put on clean clothes in the morning! (Dirty clothes in bed??? OH MY GOSH!)

She emailed me a few days later, laughing. She had pondered this thought, also, and as hard as she tried….she simply could not force herself to worry about her kids wearing clean clothes at every moment.

Part of this is simply our personality types. I am a germophobe, she doesn’t believe that they exist. I am a neat freak; she is more concerned about activities than whether or not her house could pass a white glove test. We could not change our basic “spots” if we tried.

But I’ve also learned that sometimes, her way works. Tuxedo Boy was my GQ kid. He insisted on changing his clothes if they got the least bit wet or dirty, and now I’m not sure if I trained him that way, or he trained me. Musician changed all of that. Musician was a dirt magnet. I could not keep that child clean to save my soul. I eventually gave up, and allowed him to wear dirty clothes…not just for more than half an hour, but sometimes even to BED! (I heard that collective gasp out there!)

And then you begin to dig deeper. I once lit into a friend of mine for getting new glasses that I hated. I even told him that! I hate your new glasses! Can you believe it?? It wasn’t until later that night that I really asked myself what the deal was, and I was disappointed in myself.

It wasn’t the glasses that I disliked. I’d had a bad day, and it seemed like everything was changing. I was trying to deal with new policies at work, new challenges, and new concerns with my family. The changing glasses were simply one more drop in that bucket that I simply could not take. I felt like things would never be comfortable – the SAME – again.

I apologized first thing the next morning, admitting my very immature and RUDE behavior.

Thankfully, however, I was able to find out exactly why it bothered me so much, and address it like an adult. (too bad I wasn’t adult enough to act appropriately from the start!)

I’ve since learned to ask myself quickly…and respond just as quickly. It solves problems much more easily, when you know what the problem really is, as opposed to the smoke screens that we throw up in front of ourselves as protection.

I’m happy to say that when I went to lunch recently and discovered that my favorite restaurant had changed the Friday special, I was able to recover. Even though it made me feel insecure and out of control, I talked myself out of it, and ordered the next best thing.

There are great advantages to having a deep and ongoing conversation with yourself! Someday, I hope to understand why I have such an aversion to butterfly graphics…

Hmmm. We’ll save that for another day.

My one good poem

Things are crazy right now, and I haven't had a moment to write this weekend! So I'll leave you with a poem that I wrote when I was a teenager. Prophetic, of sorts, as it describes my life as a adult, and the process of losing your humanity when others disappoint and abandon you.

"A Paper Heart of Deepest Red
Fell upon the floor...
...and bled

It's sides were ragged, ripped and torn
It's center sagging, sad and worn
And then that little paper heart
began to shred and fall apart
No one saw it's final show
No one saw it's lifeline go...

...it laid upon the cold, stone floor
for hours, days, or maybe more
'til someone came and swept it away.

That's why I have no heart today"

The reason that I recite it now is that I'm no longer that little paper heart. I'm not even shredded or ragged. I've found that you can actually CHOOSE to let go, and to move on. I have a heart...and though there are those in my past that will never be allowed to touch it again, I am open to new relationships. I'm not even angry anymore, because it just doesn't matter. I don't have to be the product of what has been dealt to me, and I don't have to take it out on the people that I meet, just because I've been hurt before.

Sure, my heart was swept up and thrown away, but I've found a new one!

Clarity

The rain begins to fall, at first gently, seductively…then harder, and faster. You know that you need to seek shelter, but the change is gradual, and you keep telling yourself that when it gets worse, you will run inside.

Worse comes incrementally, until you are plunged into a world of grey, eyes half closed against the deluge. Streams of water run down your face, tears that have formed long before touching your skin. It is overwhelming and you find that your own tears never come. You are washed away by the strength of the storm, gasping against the flow, until you are sure that you can stand no more against the drenching rain. You turn your face to the skies, wishing, hoping that the saturation will come quickly.

This is what depression feels like.

But the drops that stay behind…crystal clear, perfectly formed…it is through these that you begin to see the patterns. It is through these that you find the most intricate and interesting parts of yourself being magnified, glorified. It is through these that you see the glory of the skies above, the sheltering trees that surround you, the light that permeates all that is.

THIS is Clarity.

Limp Tomato Plant

Today, I am feeling like a wilted tomato plant.

I only say tomato plant because we are just built a greenhouse, and we were nurturing sweet little tomato plants in the family room near the sliding glass door. The baby snapped one off one day, and by the time my hubby noticed, he had dragged it around the house for quite some time. The poor little thing was limp and bedraggled. He put it in a cup of water, and that darn thing took root! He transplanted it last week, and it seems to be surviving, but it’s not nearly as big as the other plants. (or the plant that the baby broke it off of…)

So back to me.

We had Tuxedo Boy’s graduation ceremony from High School on Friday night. For me, that meant two days of decorating the gym with dear friends, mothers of his closest friends. It meant late nights, trying to finish the graduation gifts that I had in mind for these boys, which was more ambitious than I realized, and I had waited far too long to begin. I made them scrapbooks with photos of the four of them growing up together. It was many hours in front of the computer designing the pages, then mounting them. It also meant helping Tux to get the things done that he needed to do, dragging the Baby around as necessary, and then I got a call that Musician would be receiving an award at an assembly at the school…so we dropped everything and ran to that.

I’m tired.

I was nervous and excited about the graduation ceremony, and wanted to be sure that I got lots of good pictures of the boys. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to make sure that it was everything that they expected, and more. I was worried that I wouldn’t get things done that I was supposed to do.

Once the ceremony was over, I was relieved and suddenly very, very tired. But then came the celebration, which included cake at our place with Grandma and Grandpa, then going to a friends’ gathering. We got home about 11PM, at which time it took me an hour to get the baby to wind down. He was crazy tired and I could hardly soothe him. Once I got him settled, it took me even longer to unwind, myself, so I was up late late late!



This morning, he woke up far too early. He is still crazy tired! I was tired. I had slept later than I usually do on Saturdays, when I need to be out and on my way at 10AM for a commitment. I ended up having very little time to prettify myself for the day, and just pulled my hair up in a clip. Thank heavens for those things!

Some hours later, I am sitting here feeling absolutely limp. My hair has gone from chicly swept back to a disheveled mess. Thanks to allergies, I’m not sure that there is any makeup left on my eyes. I could definitely use a nap.

These are the times that I find myself most vulnerable to negative thoughts. I know that taking care of my physical body has a great deal to do with my mental health, and I try to get the regular sleep that I need. My natural rhythm (especially when I am depressed) is to stay up all night, then sleep all day. But it’s a nasty cycle that usually leads me to those dark places.

Last night was a bit emotional, as well. I didn’t cry, but I did get a few tears as they showed the Senior slide show. I’m seeing my baby graduate and become a real adult…although he has not made any definite plans yet, he is considering the Air Force. Even if he just goes off to school, it means that he’s leaving home. That will be a tough one for me! I once had him convinced that he should live with mama until he was 47, but that’s not a good plan, either! It’s just going to be really difficult to let him take wing and leave the nest.

Just think of the shadowy places that my mind could go with those factors! I could imagine the most extreme scenarios…I could second guess every decision that I’ve made as a parent…I could obsess over his future.

But like the little tomato plant, I just need some time to rest up. Today is not a good day to think or analyze or plan. I just need to get some sleep and get myself built up again before I do any of that.

I used to ignore those guidelines and would forge on with my thought process without considering the factors that would affect it at this time. I would go from tired to worried to anxious to depressed to freaked in no time at all. This is one of those things that you learn as you work to control the disease. You have to listen to your body, and know that when your body is worn down, your mind is probably at it’s worst, too.

So today, I’m limp, and somewhat uninspired. But it’s okay, because a couple of days in my cup of water, and I just might be able to produce a tomato or two!

Gratitude at Night, your heart will take flight

The therapist that I have been working with focused on tools that I could use to keep my head above water, as opposed to dissecting the individual issues that were washing over me. I’ve at least tried all of the things that she recommended, and now that our time is done, I need to remember what they are and keep at them. I think that most of them are just good practices for everyone!

One of the first things that she asked me to start was to pray at night ONLY with gratitude. You do not ask for anything, you do not share worries, you simply thank your Heavenly Father for all of the things that you are grateful for.

She mentioned a talk that she had heard, in which a General Authority of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints was visiting with a family that had recently lost a loved one. There was great sorrow in the household, and the family members were trying to cope with their loss. When the visitors were about to leave, the family asked someone to pray before they left. The general authority whispered, “Gratitude only.”

How difficult is that, to pray with gratitude after a loss such as this?

And yet, as they began to pray, they found words of comfort to offer the family. They expressed gratitude for the gospel, that helps us to understand the nature of death, the plan of salvation, and the life that awaits us after our time on earth has ended. For good friends who gather near to comfort us. So many things came to mind that there were to be grateful for.

I tried this immediately, with the idea that I often lay awake at night, worrying and planning. I use that time to second guess myself, berate myself for mistakes or perceived misdeeds, and to think about the ‘what ifs’ that may greet me with the sunrise. It results in a very long night, spent miserably, and leaving me exhausted to face the new day.

The first night was comical, as I struggled to be only grateful. It wasn’t that I didn’t have anything to be grateful for…I found plenty that I could express my thankfulness for. It was just really hard not to tack on a “please bless me with…” on the end. Humor is a great healer for me, and I allowed myself to giggle at my stumbling. I got very creative in how I presented what I wanted to talk about, setting the groundwork to ask for blessings at a later time, but with gratitude at this moment.

I slept well, I went to bed happy for the things that I did have.

I was able to see that I am blessed even in this time of difficulty. Despite financial hardship, my family has been able to survive after 9 months of my unemployment. We have not had any major family discord, nor have my husband and I had stress between the two of us involving money. Or anything, for that matter. We have worked as a team, and even the children understand that there are things that we need to do at this time to maintain our home, our family, and our finances, and they have been very good about accepting their responsibilities. (Which means, for the baby, that we cannot go to “Dongolds” – McDonald’s – every time he feels like it!)

I have felt the hand of the Lord in our decisions. I KNEW that it was right for me to be leaving the company. It was hard, but I knew that was what He wanted for me.

I have been able to rid myself of toxic influences, more effectively than if I had made the decision to leave myself. Again, at some cost, but the end result is that I am stronger and able to make better decisions for my future. I have some freedom that I would not have had in other circumstances.

I have been granted small freelance jobs to do…always at the right time…to boost my confidence and keep my name out in the business world.

I have been able to be home, something that I have never been able to do in the 18 ½ years since I had children. I love that. I’m really enjoying this time, even though it may not last forever.

Today, a dear cousin is celebrating the birth of a child that she did not get to raise on this earth. He was born much too soon for his little body to survive, but he was a very strong spirit that she was allowed to feel before he left. While most would lament their loss, and rage against the circumstances that took him from them, she is choosing to remember him. To be grateful for the time that they had – which was precious little. To keep him in their thoughts. She knows that they will be together again, and while she yearns for that day, she is consoling herself with the knowledge that he is a part of their family forever. I’m proud of her conviction and courage to openly talk about this little boy, that others might have tried to forget out of pain. She has chosen the higher road, to be grateful.

I have incredible examples of this all around me. My extended family has experienced some heartbreaking situations, and yet, they remain hopeful. They are grateful for the lessons learned, and the blessings along the way.

I am grateful for the technology that allows me to hear their stories, firsthand. To remain close to cousins that live far away, and to be a part of their lives, even when we seldom actually see one another. I’ve recently discovered Facebook, where I’ve connected with old friends and members of our branch that have gone out into the world. I am able to surround myself with good people, even if it’s only via the internet.

The second thing that I gained was a greater appreciation for those morning prayers! I often hit the ground running in the morning, and it is midday before I remember to pray, and then I’m usually on the run and don’t have the peace and quiet that I would like. It gets lost in the shuffle and my day does not start with that sweet, quiet moment of prayer. With the stipulation that I cannot ask for blessings in my nightly prayer, the morning prayers became much more important. I would never be able to ask for things if I didn’t TAKE the time to pray at the beginning of the day!

Give it a try, and let me know how it works for you!