Surprising February Awesomeness

You know how normally (in bush Alaska anyway) February drags on and on, somehow feeling more like 40 days than 28, making you wish the calendar skipped straight from January to March?

Well, this year's been different.  February wasn't all fireworks & sparkles, but darn it, it was a good month!  I worked out every single weekday in February.  Four straight weeks of working out, every morning, before my shower, without fail.  Added to the three weeks I did in January (I missed four days from being sick) and I've been working out for nearly two months.  I credit my emotional improvement to these daily workouts.  I have lost ten pounds since November (not a huge number, but pretty awesome considering I haven't changed my eating habits at all) and am feeling much stronger.  But the best part I discovered yesterday-- I had to run upstairs to get pajamas for the boys and when I reached the top I realized I wasn't out of breath. (Yes... sadly climbing the 16 stairs on our staircase used to leave me winded.)  It was the best feeling!

I also find that I am much less likely to nap in the afternoons or feel sleepy during school at the kitchen table with the boys.  This working out certainly has its perks!  

{For those wanting details, here's the lowdown on my workouts.  I bought a Leslie Sansone Walk At Home video that has 5 miles total.  Each mile has a different theme, like "Strength", "Core", and "Cardio".  I do one mile each morning while the boys eat cereal at the kitchen table.  It takes less than 15 minutes to do the entire workout.}

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Also in February I rocked at making dinner for my family.  Every Sunday night I would meal plan for the week ahead, and Monday through Thursday I would make a sit-down family dinner for my beloveds.  Friday we do something simple for the boys (nuggets or corn dogs) as we have date night (with pizza!!!) once they are in bed.  Saturday the boys get their pizza for family movie night and Josh & I eat through any leftovers in the fridge.  Sunday Josh tends to make dinner, bless his heart.  So four days a week, I'm on, and this month, I nailed it.

I was thinking about this, about my following through on working out and following through on making dinner, and I realized that I am disciplined. I never really thought of myself as disciplined.  But when I made the connection that feeding my family a healthy meal, where we sit down together, brought me happiness and a sense of contentment every evening, I committed fully to making that happen, every.single.day.  

And when I realized that working out made me feel better (body, mind & soul) and would help me defeat my demons (anxiety & depression), I committed fully to making that happen, every.single.day.  It feels so good to be back in my groove, feeling excited to face the day and ready to tackle any challenge I come upon.

In March I hope to continue these two goals and add to it a little more time spent reading.

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Thoughts & Playing Out

We've been housebound for weeks now, so when the opportunity presented itself to go outside, out we went!

It's amazing how even twenty minutes outside can make the day seem better, shorter.  And the kids more manageable.

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I've been a bit quiet on here. It's hard for me to sit still and focus when I'm feeling anxious. And I've been quite anxious as of late.  Lots of thoughts.  Thoughts of those babies I lost, thoughts of the babies I'm raising, thoughts of homeschooling, thoughts of next year, and thoughts of the distant future...

For now I have reached acceptance with the miscarriages.  A touch of sadness still, at the loss, and the thought that I won't have a squishy new bundle to tote around this summer... but still, acceptance.  I trust God.  I trust that he wants what's best for me, and for some reason, that doesn't include another baby right now.

For the three I am still here raising, loving & hugging everyday, I am feeling content.  Our days are good.  We have a steady routine, a nice rhythm, and I am calm.  I haven't yelled or lost my temper in ages.  It feels so good to fall asleep each night knowing I have filled their love tanks completely.  We enjoy each other, and that makes me happy.

Homeschooling is going really well.  We're halfway through the year, and I feel good about the progress we've made.  They are reading and doing math confidently.  They have tested well and are excited to learn new things.  They love reading aloud, chapter books especially, together on the couch, or on the rug in the playroom after calendar time.  My heart sings to think of them loving books the way I do.  

Wyatt has improved his ability to self entertain, and most days he sets off for the playroom while we settle in for our lessons at the kitchen table, and we don't hear from him again until school is done.  The only trouble with homeschool is that I don't ever feel like I'm doing enough.  I recently ordered a history book, so I am excited to add that to our days, and I also know the boys would love more science, specifically experiments.  I have to remind myself that I can only do what I can do, and there is time for everything else that is to come.

My thoughts of next year flip violently from excited to scared.  Josh got his contract for the 2015-2016 school year, and we have committed to it.  We will be back in Marshall for a fifth year.  Part of me is excited-- financially it will be really good for us to come back, to pay down our debt as planned, and for Josh to gain even more experience.  But another part of me is scared.  The last two years have been challenging for me personally.  Depression and anxiety have colored my experience out here, and it's tempting to think that if I were somewhere else, I would feel differently.  But I know that's not true.  I have had panic attacks in Vancouver. In Anchorage.  It doesn't matter if I'm in the village or in the city.  My mental health is what it is.  

So I am working to believe that God will see me through, and that the sacrifices I make out here for the rest of this year and for next year, will be worth it.  I can do hard things.  

...And honestly, I think this year would have been really good (mentally) if it hadn't been for the two miscarriages.  That gives me hope for next year.

 Thoughts of the distant future are what keep me going.  I know that someday I will look back on our time in Marshall and miss it.  I will miss having family dinner every single night.  I will miss our religious Friday date nights, our family movie nights, and homeschooling in such a quiet environment.  We are working right now to make a better future for ourselves.  And the work is hard.  Josh works hard at the school, and I work hard here at home.  

I am constantly reminding myself that "The days are long, but the years are short."  In this way I can remember that though the days can be a challenge, the amount of time I have with six year old Logan or three year old Wyatt are limited.

With that in mind, I am working to let little things go, and focus on big picture.  It's more important that I have special one on one time with Jack than the bathroom mirror be clean.  It's more important that Logan understand the math concept, than that lunch start exactly on time.

I hope that as time passes, I continue to feel peace about our family and our plans.  I also hope to back on the blog a bit more consistently.  I miss it.

Through the flames

I have had a tough two weeks.  Feeling down and just not myself.  Hence the absence here on the blog.  I've been spending my days getting through, hour by hour, focusing on what I'm doing, not on how I'm feeling.

Last night I got to hear Ariel Tweto (from Flying Wild Alaska) speak about suicide prevention at our school, particularly finding something worth waking up for everyday.  She encouraged us to set goals, find hobbies and reach out.  It was inspirational, and so wonderful to meet her.  It was very timely considering how low I've been feeling.

I am trying to stay busy, but the afternoons, I must admit, drag on forever.  I am left with far too much time on my hands, and my mind goes on autopilot, thinking of awful, worrisome things.  My hope this week is to pick up some hobbies I've set aside.  Scrapbooking, for one, and cross stitching, for another.  I also have a knitting kit, which I have yet to use to teach myself.  To be honest, it's a bit overwhelming, but I think I am going to dive in regardless.  I need the distraction.

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Last week I found myself standing over Wyatt as he slept (in the bottom bunk-- he's joined the "big boys" on the bed rotation) and sobbing.  Just wanting to know why.  

Why did I have to lose the first baby?  

Why did I have to lose the second pregnancy?  

Why couldn't I have another?  

Why didn't it work out? 

Why? 

Why? 

Why?

After my temporary loss of perspective, I remembered what I learned at bible study last week.  As she talked about the bad things that happen in our lives, the opportunities missed and the mistakes made, Beth Moore said, "Those things were meant to happen."  For whatever reason, we can trust that God knows what he's doing.  Even if we don't.

The truth is, Life Ain't Always Beautiful.  But it is a beautiful ride.

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On Firing My Therapist

So two weeks after the miscarriage, I kind of lost my shit. (That's also when I started calling it the miscarriage. Before that, the word felt foreign in my mouth, and I refused to say it. I would just say, "Before I lost the baby."  Now I have had a bit of acceptance, and I can refer to the loss as a miscarriage, even though it feels inadequate at describing the loss.)

The day after I lost it (my shit, not the baby), sobbing in hysterics to my poor, under appreciated husband, I got an email from that sweet guy of mine, informing me of a program his employer offers that will pay for six sessions of counseling.  That very day I called and set up my first appointment.

I believe very much in being proactive about your mental health.  I believe in self help books, and therapy and, if necessary, pills.  I believe in knowing what you're facing and in doing so head on.

When I had my first counseling appointment, it didn't start well.  I called in at the appropriate time and was asked if I could be called back. Ten minutes later my phone finally rang and I was beyond irritated. Do you know how much work it is to settle and occupy three kids in three different spaces (cause we all know they can't be quiet together for an hour) and prepare them for leaving me alone?  It's a lot of work. And actually, it's impossible, because no matter how much prep work you do, they will inevitably need you and find you during that hour.  Hell, I can't even go to the bathroom by myself. 

But I digress.

She called me back and we started talking.  Before our session I had jotted down some goals I had for our time together.  I had also made a list of issues I wanted to discuss.  This is not my first rodeo, people. I was prepared.

One of my goals is to no longer fear death.  That sounds a bit extreme, but fearing death is exhausting, and I think of it multiple times a day. I blame this fear on my being a mother and feeling irreplaceable in the lives of my children.  I have realized with time that my fearing death does not change its inevitability, so I would really love to be able to think of death (mine or someone else's) and not freak out and go into panic mode.  When I discussed this with my counselor, she told me that maybe I should write out a will and talk to my kids about my death. It felt like odd advice, but I was like, "Okayyy..."

Then we moved on to talking about the miscarriage and she said to me, and I quote, "Maybe mommy wasn't ready for a baby just yet."  What? Seriously? You're putting this on me? {sigh}  I didn't know what to say.  I just sat on the other end slack jawed, disbelieving that a person would actually say that to someone.

At the end of the phone call I didn't feel any better, and as we made my second appointment, I could tell the therapist was scattered.  She had put me on hold twice so she could help the guy who was fixing her computer, and when she confirmed the appointment, I had a feeling she wouldn't remember it. 

Fast forward to yesterday, and sure enough, when I called in for my second session, neither phone call was answered.  I left messages on both her office phone and her cell phone.  She called me back four.hours.later and asked what I needed.

I was like, "Well, actually, we had a session booked for this afternoon."  She mumbled something about her calendar not working and an apology. Then she asked to rebook. I told her no. That I would be going with another counselor. 

I am not a confrontational type of person, so it was really hard to tell this person, who seemed genuinely nice, that I would no longer be needing her services. But it was worth it, because when all is said and done, she just wasn't a good fit.  She was not understanding about my fear of death as a mother, she was not understanding of my need to talk about the loss of our baby without coming up with some "reason" for why it happened. And she was not respectful of my time. I am busy. Yes, I am stay-at-home mom, and our sessions were over the phone instead of in person, but that should not have made me any less of a priority to her. 

But it did.

That one hour a week is the one time that I need to be put first. It's my time to be heard, to feel the feelings I am too busy to feel the rest of the time, and to make progress toward my emotional well being. 

I am happy to report that I called the program coordinators to seek out a different counselor and my counselor that I used last year is "in network", meaning I can "see" (talk on the phone) to him.  I am so relieved to know that next week when the time comes for my appointment that I will be speaking to someone who will make me a priority and will respect my time.  Bonus? He does evening appointments, so I won't have to worry over the kids as Josh will be home to take care of them.

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On & Off Prozac

So, I wanted to share on here a little bit about my experience with Prozac.  I went on Prozac last November.  September and October were horrible.  It started with concerns about my health, and turned into me crying everyday when Josh went to work.  I developed severe anxiety coupled with total loss of interest in my life.  It was bad.

I started at 20mg once a day November 1st.  I upped it to 40mg in January when I still wasn't feeling better.  I was also consistently taking Ativan as needed for panic and anxiety.  I would say I took at least one dose a day, but often more.

While on Prozac I experienced minimal side effects.  Hunger, tiredness & sleeplessness were most noticeable.  Ironically, tiredness during the day and sleeplessness at night-- annoying. But those both could be attributed to the depression as well.  I was also ravenous, which was nice after having no appetite, but not so great when it came to the numbers on the scale.

I started feeling better, bit by bit, around the new year, and better each week progressively.  My slow & steady progress made the side effects worth the pain.

In addition to the Prozac & Ativan, I began an exercise regimen and therapy with a counselor.  I also had my vitamin D tested when I was at the doctor in Anchorage in January, and it was really low.  To up my levels, I took 50,000 IUI every week for twelve weeks.  (Now I take 2000 IUI daily to maintain.)

By March I was feeling a lot better, and by May I would say I felt like my old self again.  I was no longer taking Ativan for acute anxiety and my vitamin D was back at normal levels thanks to my treatment.  After arriving in Vancouver I decided I wanted to wean off the Prozac.  They say that staying on for at least six months is best, and for me it had been seven. 

I started in mid-June by cutting my dose in half, to 20 mg, for two weeks.  Then I cut that dose in half, to 10 mg, for two weeks.  And finally I took 10mg every other day for five weeks.  During that time I experienced pretty minimal side effects.

Since quitting fully I've had strange eye sensations and dizziness; what felt like zings (or lightening strikes) in my brain; waves of nausea and some feelings of being outside my body.  These effects were worst from the first week completely off Prozac through five weeks post Prozac.  So it was about a month of suffering.

Coming off of it has been mind over matter.  I would get a wave of nausea, or start to feel dizzy, and I'd just tell myself, "Your body misses Prozac.  It will be better soon."

I felt called to share my journey with antidepressants (both getting on them and getting off them) because when I went to look up side effects of coming off Prozac, I struggled to find helpful information.  I wanted to know what side effects I might face and for how long.  Basically I wanted to know, "Is this normal?"

I believe so much in sharing my story.  In being open and vulnerable.  If I can give hope to the hopeless, if I can help one person through this horrific lonely journey, then my hardship will be worth it.

"If you want to change the world, pick up your pen."

-Martin Luther

And lastly, a little friendly advice:

If you are experiencing depression, don't be afraid to use medication.  

Don't be afraid to find a counselor.

And don't be afraid to reach out.  

14.8 million Americans suffer depression every year.  

Chances are you know someone else who is going through the same thing.

And if you are experiencing anxiety, I recommend

Hope and Help for Your Nerves by Dr. Claire Weekes

She will walk you, gently, through everything you need to know to survive.

For sufferers of both anxiety & depression, I suggest

The Feeling Good Handbook by Dr. David Burns

After getting through the worst of it with Dr. Weekes' book (see above),

Dr. Burns book will teach you how to change your thinking & change your life!

A year ago, my emotional life was in a downward spiral. I would wake many days in tears and end many days in tears.  Here I am, twelve months later, with renewed hope for healing & zest for life, cliche as that may sound.  Whatever you do, if you too are suffering, don't give up.  

You can get better.

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A few sites that helped me coming off Prozac:

Going Off Antidepressants 

When & How to Come Off Antidepressants

Prozac Withdrawal Symptoms

Fluoxetine Withdrawal