Attitude is Everything...So Pick a Good One!!

Disclaimer: This post is about MY thoughts and MY feelings about a "hot" topic. I understand that there are differing viewpoints from my own and I don't claim to be "right". I simply claim the thoughts following to be empirical and personal.


That being said:

There are a few things that I have seen and heard this week that have caused me to reflect on my, for lack of a better word, situation. Most of my thoughts can be rounded up into one subject: feminism. Here they are:


I am a stay-at-home-mom and yet, I consider myself a "liberated woman". How can this be, you ask? Refer to the title of this post. If that's not enough, keep reading and I'll try to explain.

Here's what generated a lot of my thoughts. I saw a snippet this week of an interview with a single, female movie star in which she expressed her frustration at being told she was 'equal' with men but was annoyed that she would still "lose" her name (if she were to marry) and, after marriage would be expected to make babies and "present them" to her husband ("deliver the packages" was the way she put it), as if they were trophies, all the while being more and more diminished while her husband glorified himself. She was upset because she wanted to feel that her purpose in life was more than "just to be half of something else". According to her, the evolution of women is as follows: We begin as "mistresses", graduate to sex symbols, become mothers and, because we have become mothers and breastfed children, we are no longer attractive, don't look good in bathing suits and our only option after that is "soccer mom".


Let me share my thoughts about this.
(Disclaimer 2: I understand that one of the major frustrations for women's rights activists is that women do not get paid the same amount of money for doing the same jobs as men. If that were all this person were talking about, I wouldn't disagree. I don't disagree that if you're doing the same job as someone else, you should be paid the same amount of money. Read on:...)


This woman was upset at being told she was equal but feeling that she wasn't and that she didn't have the use of as many rights as men do. Let me state, for the record, that I am not equal with my husband. By divine design, I am different. God created me with certain talents and abilities that set me apart from my husband; and vice versa. I could also say that he is not equal with me. Where we become "equal" is in the goals that we have for ourselves and our family. I like to think that we are equal when we are united in purpose. I don't mind not being able to do everything he can do because he can't do everything that I can do. And if there's anything I've learned being married it is that individually we are strong, intelligent people; but TOGETHER, as two halves of a whole, we are at our most powerful. On his own, he can do amazing things and when he gets weak, he can strengthen himself. Together, he does amazing things and when he gets weak he can draw strength from the love and support I offer as well as from himself. It works much better this way... and it goes both ways.


I was married 16 years ago. When I got married, my name changed; but I didn't 'lose' it. I surrendered it. Until that point, I had had my father's name, because he was the one who cared for me. I CHOSE to change my name; not because in marrying my husband I was becoming less but out of respect for the responsibility that he was accepting to provide for and support me. At the manly age of 20, he CHOSE to accept the responsibility to care for a person other than himself, to put my needs before his and to work hard so that the necessities of life would always be available to me. My feelings about this can be summed up in Kate's Soliloquy from Shakespeare's play, "The Taming of the Shrew". (Italics added)


KATE: Fie, fie, unknit that threat'ning unkind brow
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,
And in no sense is meet or amiable.
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty,
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee
And for thy maintenance; commits his body
To painful labor both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou li'st warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks, and true obedience--
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such a woman oweth to her husband;
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace,
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
Whey they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms,
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown.
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot,
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.
If you think about it, Kate's words ring true. When people get married there are usually words, repeated by both people, like: love, cherish, honor, obey. I personally promised to obey the counsel of my husband as he obeys the counsel of God. Does all of this name changing and responsibility mean that I am incapable of working to provide for myself? Absolutely not. What it means, to me, is that in doing this one simple thing, in changing my name to my husband's name, I honor him as he honors me with his love and work on my behalf.

Let's move on to kids:
I've had four of them. In a way, I did present them to my husband but not as trophies. The first time he held each of our children, I could see in his face and in his reverent attitude toward the life he held in his hands that, to him, these children were not simply a means of glorifying himself. These precious children, straight from heaven, were being entrusted to him for his care and maintenance; and he would be held accountable before God for the performance of that sacred duty.

Regarding my status, according to the movie star, as "soccer mom" and unattractive, I beg to differ. No, I politely request that she speak for herself. Does my body look the same way it did 16 years ago? Definitely not. Am I unattractive because I've had 4 children? I flatter myself...Definitely not. I try to eat right, I regularly exercise, I don't drink, I don't smoke...I take care of myself in mind and body...THAT'S what makes a person attractive. And my kids don't go to a million different activities. Why? Because I know I can't handle juggling 4 different schedules and because cooking healthy meals and eating together as a family are more important to me than athletic achievements and trophies.

So I return again to my statement: I am a liberated woman. I have made choices in my life and am happy with them. I chose to honor and respect my husband by taking his name and accept my role as his wife, lover and support system with joy. I chose to have 4 children and accept my role as their mother, teacher, and guide with honor and humility. I choose to take tare of my body and my mind as an example to my children and as a proof to my husband that I know I am important to him...he wants me to be healthy and fulfilled.

There is nothing more liberating than choosing who you want to be, and working toward becoming that person.

Attitude is Everything...So Pick a GOOD One!

On Dogs and Children

So I'm sitting here late at night, waiting for something to finish cooking because I planned my day poorly, and my thoughts turned to the similarities that exist between dogs and children. Don't get me wrong! I'm not saying that dogs are better than children or vice versa. All I'm saying is that when you stop to think about it, the two really aren't THAT different, depending on how old the child is. For example:

*A dog eats everything. It doesn't matter what it is, "If it's on the ground, it's in the hound." My dog has a penchant for blankets and all things fabric. He chews on and swallows whatever he can get his teeth on. This frequently causes a "backup" which always ends up as my responsibility. A child, on the other hand, only eats everything it can get its hands on while he is young. The behavior usually stops after he learns that a)he has teeth and b)the big people will give him things to eat and he doesn't have to scavenge on the ground for cheerios and old gum.

*My dog likes to play outside for a long time and then come into the house, stinky and sweaty, and not take a shower. A male child will do the same thing and I'm told that the behavior changes eventually.

*Regarding playing outside, my dog will go anywhere and do anything. He likes to run through tick-infested grass and mosquito-laden mud spots with his mouth open, catching all the flying things as he goes. A male child is frequently seen doing the same types of activities and one may wonder if he catches any bugs in his mouth given the fact that his mouth is widely opened during most of the aforementioned activities - with loud sounds emanating therefrom to boot.

*My dog will run out the door any chance he gets if he sees his dog friend across the street or a squirrel in the yard. He neither needs an invitation nor waits for permission. A child of any age will do this. In young children it is easier to understand because they do not have the experience of understanding when it's ok and when it's not. The boggling of the mind comes in when older children, who are responsible enough to do some fairly important tasks, run out of the house when their friend walks by the front door. It's even more mind-rattling when they feel upset that you've called them in and accuse you of "never letting them play".

*My dog has a built in aversion to "bath time" and will cower in corners when he knows it is time for him to be bathed. He has learned that resistance is futile and will be still but there is a clear understanding, in the look he gives you, that you will never be forgiven for this humiliation. A child of either persuasion has this same aversion after the age of about 7. Taking a shower becomes a chore to be hated and dawdled over and there is quite a vociferous understanding given you that this injustice will be remembered, like the "poisonous" chicken stir-fry you tried to feed them last night for dinner.

These are just a few of the things I think about late at night. I probably shouldn't stay up.

Do You Ever Feel That You Become The Worst Version Of Yourself?

Remember this line from "You've Got Mail"? I do. Partly because I watch this movie about once a week (it's my laundry movie) and partly because it kept coming into my mind tonight. I didn't 'zing' anybody, like Tom Hanks' character did but I definitely became a version of myself I wasn't happy with. Read on.

I'm a "people pleaser". I want to make everyone around me a) happy and b) happy with me. Despite my knowing that this is impossible, I valiantly continue to pursue my lofty goal sure that I will succeed someday. The people I'm trying to please change but the impossibility of the thing never does. As the people change, so do the consequences/effects of my people pleasing efforts. I can never seem to remember that you can make some of the people happy all the time, all of the people happy some of the time but you can't make all of the people happy all of the time. Inevitably, someone is going to be unhappy with me, whether it's the people I'm trying to please or me. Tonight I'm sure it was a little of both.

As a mom and a leader, I have to have lines that are clearly drawn, limits that are plainly voiced and boundaries I will not cross no matter the reason. I have to be strong enough to hold my ground, no matter how much I'm tempted to cross my own lines to please someone. There are times when this is easy and there are times when this is really hard. And when I choose to cross those lines, even just one step, damage is done. People who look up to me, whose trust I have worked hard to earn, now have reason to doubt my integrity or disbelieve my sincerity. New people who I was trying to please now see first hand and first thing, weakness where they assumed strength resided. My children have heard me allowing others to speak in unkind ways and though they may not have understood why I let it happen, they know it happened. Are they now wondering if I allow others to speak that way about them, or if I do?

Tonight, I became a worst version of myself (because I'm sure there's more than one...). I could end my post here but that is just as impossible as pleasing all the people all the time.
I can't leave it at that, with me being a terrible person (because that would rob my loyal readers of the happy ending that should come at the end of every story - I've got to make you happy!) :)I can't go through the rest of my life with the version of myself I became tonight. It was only for a little while but the effects would last a lot longer than that if I didn't have some way to get rid of this version. So I turned to my Savior, Jesus Christ.


I am so grateful to know that He suffered in Gethsemane for just such a night as this in my life. He felt the weight of the realization of what my actions cost, He felt the sick, sinking feeling that only ever comes when the Spirit of the Lord leaves you and He paid the price for it all; All so that I could kneel before the Father in Jesus' name and plead for forgiveness of my weakness and the grace to remove this 'worst version of myself'. I know it's not the last version of myself that I'll want to be rid of but knowing I can repent makes tomorrow a little easier to face somehow; the apologies are becoming a little easier to make and picking myself up and dusting off is becoming a joyful task. ('Cause when you're as imperfect as me, you fall down alot!)

Just Like in the Story!

Throughout my long, movie-watching life, I've seen a lot of stuff. Stuff that is completely realistic because it just happened to you yesterday, stuff that you can totally see happening because you've felt the same way as the person in the movie, stuff that just makes you laugh because the situations are so funny... all kinds of stuff. But I've always wondered if all the stuff you see in movies is really trustworthy. I mean, I already know none of the women are...they're perfect. Whatever. I'm talking about the stuff that isn't so far-fetched as to be completely unbelievable from the get go but too simple for Mythbusters. Stuff like:

*If you put regular dish soap in a dishwasher, will it make bubbles come out and go all over your kitchen?

Answer: YES. In the movie "Maid to Order" Ally Sheedy's character, having never operated a dishwasher in her life, puts Tide in it. At my house, it was my 12 year old daughter, who has been starting dishwashers ever since she realized there was a little compartment to put soap in with a little door that closed. She's always known which soap goes in the dishwasher but I guess I've never covered what to do when the bottle of dishwasher detergent is empty before the little soap container is full. She improvised. Just add regular dish soap til it's full and run as usual. Not only were there bubbles emanating from the dishwasher and running/spreading all over my kitchen floor, when I opened the dishwasher and pulled out the rack, it was actually a square shaped mass of bubbles.
Thankfully my kitchen floor was in desperate need of cleaning, my children in desperate need of fun and me in desperate need of comic relief. I restarted the dishwasher to let the bubbles flow, they removed their shoes and socks so they could "skate" and I cooked dinner (in bare feet) listening to them cooperate.

*If you turn on your blender without a lid, will it really go all over and make a mess?

Answer: YES. Arguably, this might be said to be dependent on the type of blender you have. Mine happens to have a variable speed switch that I always turn all the way down when I turn it off. I have, however, gotten into the habit of tossing things into the container and blending with no lid at a low speed...because I always turn the speed all the way down. This is a bad habit to have if there are other people in the house who might conceivably use said blender AND LEAVE THE SPEED SWITCH WHEREVER THEY WANT...LIKE ON HIGH. Needless to say, being barely awake,getting all of the smoothie ingredients gathered in the blender and flipping it on with no lid creates quite a mess. All three of the small appliances on my counter, some fairly important papers, the wall, two cabinets and the writer were summarily splattered with what looked like vomit. Thankfully, 45 antibacterial wipes later, there was still enough to salvage.

*If you turn on the gas in your barbeque BEFORE you open the lid and then light the barbeque, will it make a fire ball?

Answer: YES. It turns out that a young person who has completed this task several times under the direction of his father and several times with no direction (just supervision) will indeed forget some miniscule detail. After reassuring me that he could do it, I looked out the kitchen window to check his progress and saw, with no time to do anything, one hand lifting the lid and the other reaching for the ignite button. It went BOOM!, I said WHOA!, he shrunk from the flame and then sat, with singed hair, eyelashes and eyebrows, with frozen soybeans on his face. My heart fluttered until I was able to get a good look at him; no blisters, eyes were fine, ears were fine - just looking a little sunburned. His biggest concern? How bad does my hair look?

I still don't trust Hollywood but there are going to be things that I see that ring more and more true the longer I live, the longer I live with children and the closer I get to the edge of the cliffs of insanity.

Shoes

My daughter asked me recently why I have so many shoes. Let me set the record straight and then we'll go from there, mmm-kay?

I don't have a TON of shoes, but I do have quite a few pairs gracing my closet.
There are shoes in there that I keep because I need crappy sneakers every now and then.
There are others that shouldn't be there but are because a) it's the wrong season to buy something to replace them with or b)when it was the right season, I couldn't find anything I liked.
There are shoes that serve a specific purpose (like hiking boots) and hence are not suitable for everyday wear - for me. (My boys are a completely different story...)
There are also shoes in my closet that I've had FOREVER.

They just don't go out of style OR they're a color I like/want and I can't buy anything to replace them; either way, in the closet they stay.

Now, back to my daughter's question. Why so many? Well, aside from the aforementioned reasons, I like shoes. Specifically, I like high heels. And if you want me to be even more specific than that, I like shoes with heels that start at 4 inches. (I'll wear shoes with a heel as high as 6 inches, but they'd have to be absolutely perfect.) Why, you ask? Read on.
I'm 5 foot 7 inches; by all accounts of average height. I married a guy who's 6 foot 4. That means there's a 9 inch difference between the tops of our heads. Now, if we take into account the fact that our eyes are NOT on the tops of our heads, the difference between the heights of our eyes could be even greater, depending on how far from the tops of our heads our eyes actually are. Did any of that make sense to you? NO?? *sigh* Suffice it to say that at 5 foot 7, I feel very small and it's not a very strong position to fight from. BUT...I put on a pair of 4 inch heels and all of the sudden, I'm 5 foot 11. Almost eye level with that 6 foot 4 man. 6 inch heels? 6 foot 1, baby! Look me in the eye and say that again!

Now, all that aside, for some reason I can wear shoes in colors and styles that I would never dream of wearing clothes in. For example:

Hot pink is a little much for me in a dress but a pair of hot pink shoes? Absolutely. Beige or tan - blah. I look like a popsicle stick...all one color. BUT, nude colored shoes are perfect to wear with colors that are hard to match or occasions when you don't want your shoes to get all the attention.

One more reason I love high heeled shoes. I'm sort of enamored of the styles of the 1940's. Not really the ideas but the way that women dressed. If pictures can be trusted (and not just Hollywood-ized ones...I'm talking about pictures from family histories here.), there was so much more emphasis placed on taking the time to look pretty. Now I'm not saying that these women spent hours each day getting just perfect but what I am saying is that they took care of themselves and it showed. They weren't vapid or indecisive. They were confident and capable. They wore modest clothing but still looked very attractive.

They wore MUCH less make-up but were still bombshell beautiful. Was it all because of the shoes? Probably not; but I'm pretty sure that putting the shoes, the dress, the make-up and the hair all together equalled women who believed in themselves and their abilities. Women who were not about to be told that their value lay in their sexuality; Women who were strong enough to hold their families and their nation together when a world at war threatened to tear it all apart. Sometimes I contrast that with women of today and find today's women wanting. There is an emphasis placed on taking care of oneself but it seems to me that it's only for the sake of looking pretty, of fitting in or having what "she" has. Buy this or that make-up and look as pretty as someone else who uses it. Buy this brand of bra and look like a supermodel. The take-care-of-yourself of today seems geared toward making a woman attractive to a man. The take-care-of-yourself of back then was geared toward making a woman attractive because that's what a woman is. Granted, there was still a lot of pressure for women to be beautiful because men wanted to marry beautiful girls but I like to think there was so much more to women back then because they chose to make themselves so much more.

I could go to a plastic surgeon and be "re-constructed" so that I have teeth and a face and breasts and legs that, according to today's standards, would make me beautiful. I'd get looked at and checked out because of my body. OR, I could do may hair every day, put on a little make up, a cute outfit and a pair of high heeled shoes. Will I still look beautiful? Darn Tootin' I will! But why? Well, mostly because I'll be smiling at the thought of how much money I saved by buying a pair of shoes instead of plastic surgery. I'll still get looked at but I don't think it would be because of my body. (Probably mostly because who dresses like THAT nowadays??) I'd get looked at because I was beautiful in a different way than anyone else...and maybe, just maybe, it's a little nicer to see.

"Oooohhh Fuuuuudge!"

If anyone out there is like me, you had someone in your life teaching you what was right and wrong when you were little. A parent, a grandparent, an auntie, a friend's mom or dad...somebody. That person who always expected good things from you and let you know it; who would drop the hammer on you just like you were their own kid when you did something stupid and who made it clear which rules you could bend and which ones you'd better never break. They expected you to be polite to them and their family; they expected good table manners and good language.

I think that, somewhere in our DNA, is a list of "bad words". We don't always have to hear them to know them...somehow they are built in and we wake up one bright 3rd or 4th grade morning knowing we know something we aren't supposed to say and wickedly looking for opportunities to say it. It might be under our breath, it might be at the top of our lungs (granted this is while we're at the top of the highest tree, farthest from our house) or, if you are exceedingly good, these words might cross your mind, but never your tongue. After all, these are the words that would make grandmas blush and certainly cut short any chillax time with friends.

I would like to add to the "hard-wired" list of Unsayables, a few words that,over the past several years, have become just as irritating, just as thoughtless and rude as any of those 'other' words.

1. an·a·lyze 
to examine carefully and in detail so as to identify causes, key factors, possible results, etc.

I hate this word. More to the point, I hate when I am the one being analyzed. I don't want to be examined so that the examiner can try to figure out why I do something, what went into my decision to do it and the far-reaching (sometimes REALLY far...) consquences of whatever it was I did. If I had done all that, I may not have done what I did. BUT, not having done that does not make me dumb, or stupid or thoughtless and not thinking that way habitually does not make me somehow 'less than' those who do.

2.ir·ra·tion·al   
1.without the faculty of reason; deprived of reason.
2.without or deprived of normal mental clarity or sound judgment.

I used two definitions for this one because both mean sort of the same thing but in different ways.
First of all, I am NOT deprived of reason. I am quite capable of being reasonable. Will I get annoyed if I am treated with condescending disrespect? Yes. Does that make me irrational? No.

Second of all, I am not deprived (or denied the use of) mental clarity or sound judgement. These things are not like food and water which can be taken away as a punishment. They are inherent. Do some people think more rationally than others? Absolutely. Are there those in this world who think more rationally than me? I'm sure of it. Am I irrational because of this? No.

3.nor·mal   

1.conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural.
Psychology
2.approximately average in any psychological trait, as intelligence, personality, or emotional adjustment.
3.free from any mental disorder; sane.

Another multi-definitional one.
As far as conforming to societal standards regarding the laws of the land and "appropriate" sociological behavior, I am normal. That being said, I am also very different. I am ME and I like me. I like me BECAUSE I am different and others like me (so I've been told) because I'm different. In all the responsible citizen, be-a-good-neighbor, set-a-good-example ways, I'm normal. In all the make-your-own-kind-of-music, march-to-the-beat-of-your-own-drum, be-comfortable-with-who-you-are ways, I'm ME. (Which is probably pretty normal, because everyone wants to be a little different from everybody else.)

As far as being of average intelligence, personality or emotional adjustment, I'm probably on the side of the bell curve toward abnormal; but only just. I'm not free of a mental disorder, as my last post clearly outlined. BUT, (there's always a big one somewhere...)I'm not insane. I could probably be called quite rational. :)

4. house·wife   
1.a married woman who manages her own household, especially as her principal occupation.

—Usage note
Housewife is offensive to some, perhaps because of an implied contrast with career woman (just a housewife ) and perhaps because it defines an occupation in terms of a woman's relation to a man. Homemaker is a common substitute.

OK - this one doesn't bother me so very much and certainly not for the reason stated that it defines me in relation to a man. Specifically, MY man. It bothers me because saying I'm a housewife implies that I'm married to my house. Ummm...no. By one definition, to marry is to unite closely or intimately. I really like my house and the views are great. I find peace in my backyard and it's in a good neighborhood but, we just aren't that close. We're really just good friends. So I'm NOT a housewife, I'm Dan's wife. That's a HUGE difference! I have moved from house to house to house and never once felt anything close for them as I do for my husband. I am definitely a homemaker. I make the empty house into a home with my flair for decorating (which is really just putting stuff away) and my charming, effervescent spirit. (HEY! I was actually told that by somebody once...in the family I married into!) So don't call me a housewife.

5. stu·pid   

1.lacking ordinary quickness and keenness of mind; dull.
2.characterized by or proceeding from mental dullness; foolish; senseless

This word really bugs me because I have heard it so often in reference to ideas I've had or questions I've asked or things I've done to help someone else. I've heard others use it in reference to my children's questions and they, in turn have started to think it's okay to say it to one another regarding their respective knowledge quotients. I'm not the most intelligent person in the world, I know, but I'm pretty smart. My kids are fantastic and capable of advanced work in many of their school subject. And we are by no means DULL. (If you think this, you have clearly never been to our house!)

So, loyal readers, as with those other words that must not be spoken, keep these out of your vocabulary. Replace them with words like pulchritudinous, effervescent, reasonable, extraordinary...you get the picture.

I Really Hate This

About two years ago, after 7 years of treatment for depression, I was re-diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It was liberating and terrifying, vindicating and disheartening, great and terrible; all those oxymorons that are bipolar in and of themselves. It was wonderful to finally understand what the heck was "wrong" with me but also awful, because I finally understood what the heck was wrong with me.

After struggling with this for the past two years, and knowing I'm nowhere near done and not nearly as awesome, strong or patient as people I know who've struggled with this for a lifetime, I thought I would take a minute or two, on a good day, to let you all know what bipolar disorder looks/feels like. It might also help to realize that when bipolar hits, it hits hard and fast, with little or no warning and can stay for as long or as little time as it wants.

So, think of an earthquake; it can hit at any time in any place and can affect a relatively small area or, as we've recently seen, a huge area. It can cause damage and wreak havoc on things that are totally unrelated to the ground shaking but that have a lasting effect on the quality of life for weeks and months to come. It is surprising, shocking, painful and always requires time to rebuild when it's over. This is what bipolar disorder feels like to the people who love someone or care for someone who is bipolar. It comes out of nowhere and shakes everything, sometimes to the very foundations of what their relationships are built on.

Now, think of a tornado. There's always a little warning. A storm or a flat sky...some small signal. But there's usually not much time between that little warning and the touchdown. Like an earthquake, a tornado can be relatively small or it can be really big, as we have also recently seen. It twists and turns malevolently, it thunders and roars, it tears through things that seem solid or unmovable and terrifies everyone in its' path. And then, of a sudden, it's gone. The swath of destruction it leaves behind causes grief and heartache to those who have been affected by it and the silence in place of the cacophony of noise is almost ear shattering. And like an earthquake, there is always rebuilding to be done. This is how I feel when I get "in one of my moods." I feel it coming but am powerless to actually do anything to stop it. I rage and rip around, saying and doing things that have the power to break apart what needs to remain strong. And always there is the heartbreaking realization, when the storm is over, of what I've done, and what needs to be mended.

From the outside looking in, (and speaking from personal experience) bipolar is hard to understand and frequently is seen as nothing more than a scapegoat for bad attitudes or stupid behavior. If you wake up feeling depressed, just choose not to be. Attitude is everything, right? If you're getting mad, take a breather. If you're getting manic, just calm down. Sure everybody has hard days but you ultimately choose what kind of day you're going to have, right?

Well from the inside looking out, it's so much more difficult than that. Waking up feeling depressed feels more like swimming for miles in the ocean. After a while, it's so tempting to stop; to quit swimming and just let yourself go under. The fact that I'm still alive means I haven't given up. It may be all I can do to just float, with no thought about where I may be headed. But I haven't gone under, and that's the most important part. Getting mad isn't really accurate because it feels more like that tornado...that tiny little warning signals and then BOOM - touchdown. Sometimes the tiniest, stupidest things flip that switch. I see the signal and before I even have time to really process what happened, I'm tearing around like a tornado. (The most horrible part of THIS is I feel like I stand looking at myself from the outside and shaking my head...knowing how hard life is going to be when my personal tornado has ended.)

I guess what I really want you to know is that it's not all lollipops and rainbows, people. It's not easy to know you (and , by extension, your family) are going to deal with this for the rest of your life. It's not fun knowing that you are going to have days, no matter how much you try to prevent them, where you feel like you're living alone in a black hole that nobody else in the whole universe is aware of. It's heartbreaking (especially for loved ones) to realize that when you're really down, you're going to be firmly convinced that there isn't a single person in the world that you can call on for help.

The only saving grace in all of this is the fact that Jesus Christ suffered what I suffer and not only understands completely but also knows how to help me. He knows where I need to focus first when I need to rebuild. He knows which people to put into my life to kick my butt, which ones I'll need to empathize and which ones I'll need to be life preservers. He knows it all and it's only because of Him that I don't give up and go under. I'm still here. I haven't given up. Please don't give up on me!