Your Begging Child

Dear Heavenly Father,

Why is it that 95% of the time I come to you I am screaming out in sadness, need, and most unfortunately, anger? Why is it I am so foolish and immature that I turn to you only when I feel like my life is deteriorating? You are with me all the time, in happiness and in sadness. When I am successful and when I am a failure. But I only acknowledge you when I am at my blackest. I come to you and shriek at you when darkness stabs my heart. I look at you as a hateful God who does nothing but punish me for all my decisions. Punishing me for who I am. Why have you cursed me with this burden? Why am I filled to burst with a black emptiness? How can I even begin to understand my cross if I balance between a serious chemical imbalance and my sinful doubt filled flesh? I HAVE DEPRESSION. I AM ANXIOUS. I was born with this chemical imbalance. I was predisposed to it because of my genetics. And it’s not fair. And it’s not fair that I can be told that my depression is a sin. 

Well, Father, if there’s one thing I learned, it’s this:

Life’s not fair. But Jesus is. 

My Father. Abba. Daddy. You hold my hand and you give me Jesus. I whine to you like I whine to my earthly Daddy, and you have given me your Son to take this darkness from me. To take my burden from me. And you’ve helped me understand this sickness. You’ve helped me understand why some may be tempted with alcohol, with lying, with theft, but for me, I’ve been tempted with death. So for once, I want to come to you in this letter and say something that has been overused in every day language. Something I say to you only when things are good, but never when they are bad. It’s been bad lately, and I realized I need to say it.

Thank you.

Thank you for everything. My family. Shelter. Food. A free country.

But right now I need to say thank you for my cross that I bear. It is through this depression you brought me back to the meaning of the manger at Christmas, filled with your promise of life. It is through this anxiety you drove me to you to calm my fears. It is through these burdens I have been able to grow and understand people around me. Thank you. Every day is a trial. But you remind me that my depression and anxiety were given to me for a reason. These challenges are meant for me. But I don’t suffer alone. Thank you for suffering with me.

Your Child. 

Don’t forget about me. You promised you would always be there. Take this yoke, Lord. I am weak.

2 Corinthians 12:9  But he said to me “My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 

  

 

Rejection: Thou Shalt be Conquered

Anxiety can often inflict several emotions on someone. My two personal favorites are: Fear and Guilt. They make me feel so warm and cuddly inside (read: cold and vomity). Well, my anxiety seems to exasperate a common problem that many people seem to have: Rejection. I really don’t like it. Rejection and I? We ain’t friends.

Why don’t I like rejection? Because I am a perfectionist. In my high school years, I was a tad ludicrous (no, I was not the rapper, but I can throw down with the best… in my head). I took more involved electives that I knew would give me more homework because I thought it would be better for my future and more character building. It still makes me angry that I didn’t take Art. Ugh, I could be an artist right now and draw out all my negative emotions. I also was a health nut, worked out all the time, tried to eat healthy (never once ate a soft pretzel at lunch. Never.) took fish oil and a spoonful of flax seed every day and tried to take apple cider vinegar regularly. I made varsity volleyball as a sophomore and spent my summers running (and occasionally playing racquetball with my sister even though we had no idea what we were doing and I’m pretty sure I got a concussion once). Anyway, my point is- I took it to an extreme in high school. Yeah, I was lazy and got some bad grades once in a while, but if I failed it hit me incredibly hard (see “not making the elite choir and crying in a bathroom for hours because I couldn’t face rejection” as a reference).

Well, once I got to college I couldn’t take it anymore, some new medications were playing with my brain. I developed a new course of action: AKA what I have dubbed as “the lazy perfectionist”. I wouldn’t try at anything. If I couldn’t do it perfectly I wouldn’t do it at all. Thus, I had a less than stellar gpa in college, I hardly worked out and watched what I ate – oh hey freshman 15! – and building relationships with people, something I always took very seriously, was at the bottom of my to-do list. Not only that, but I couldn’t bear the thought of letting people down so I took on a persona of a disorganized individual who has no idea what is going on.

What does this have to do with anything? I will tell you, my friends. As those who have read this blog in the past may have realized, I haven’t posted in a while. Why? Because I was anticipating rejection. You see, I sent some blog posts into a couple websites to see if I could get them posted. And I have been sitting here waiting for the rejection to come. And while I waited for the rejection, writing seemed like the last thing I could do. I thought about getting rid of the blog in my preparation for rejection. I thought about eating my feelings in preparation for rejection. I thought about crying in my preparation for rejection. And of course, I thought about vomiting in my preparation for rejection. Well, yesterday I got my first rejection email. I knew it was coming but I was still sad and heartbroken and waited several hours to tell my Marine. And then I talked to my sister Catie, who likes to write. She too has tried getting published and has felt the sting of rejection letters.

Catie and I

(This is my sister whom I lovingly refer to as my Kitty Cat, she’s pretty good and stuff)

And she said something brilliant (I know, I was shocked too… kidding, Catie! Looooove you!)

You go ahead and be sad. I’ve cried over it before. Now I’ve just been hardened to it after what feels like hundreds of rejections. It’s not resilient, it’s forming thick scars after being whipped many times. You go ahead and hurt, just try hard to remember that it’s not a reflection of you or your abilities. (Which will be hard, I know) but it really isn’t. And don’t let it stop you from what you want to do. Please don’t.

We then continued on and bashed editors and publishers and stuff because that’s just what sisters do.

Sisters

(Sisters… Tralalalala Sisters…. we love each other and stuff… sisters)

Rejection is such a terrifying part of being a human. I’m a wife and I fear rejection from my husband, even though cognitively I know that my husband loves me and is committed to me completely. I’m a mommy and I fear that my daughter will reject me, even though that goes against the way God created our bond. I’m a human and I fear rejection from everything else that matters. But what I need to remember is this: the One who matters most will never reject me and continually invites me into His arms over and over again, even when I may reject Him. God. He will always hold me in His arms through my many earthly rejections. And with that knowledge in hand, I will get back into the boat and keep rowing into the storm of rejection until I find that undiscovered piece of land. Take that, editor who rejected me. You haven’t heard the last of me.

The First Movement

Today I was planning on writing a nice juicy blog post on juicing and the health benefits of that, and I still plan on writing that for you all, but something sparked my interest today on Facebook (shared by my Mommy and my sissy Anna) and it got my mind a-whirling. I really couldn’t pass up the opportunity to write a blog post about it. But as I began to write I realized I had A TON to say on this subject, so I’m making you a little promise… this blog post is going to be a researched and multi-part blog post, aka I am going to have several blog posts pertaining to this subject within the next week or so. Therefore, welcome all, to PART ONE.

What was the topic of this wonderful article I read? Piano and music for young children. It makes a point in saying that taking something like piano lessons at a young age can help emotional and behavioral maturity in young children, and goes on to explain the experiment used. Not only that, but it made the point in saying that music education in young children can provide the stability and tools to help cope with ADHD, depression, and anxiety.

My parents made me start taking piano lessons when I was in 2nd grade, I could never fully appreciate the fact that they were setting me up with a lifelong skill and hobby. It wasn’t until I was married and without a piano that I realized how much I loved playing. And then God was generous, as always, heard my prayers, and provided my husband and I with a free used piano. But then we moved and couldn’t take the piano with us. So now, it is sitting in my parents’s house less than half a mile away, looking a tad sad next to their beautiful piano but still part of the brotherhood of music makers.

 photo 5 (1)

(This piano will always by my favorite piano… Always. No matter what. It’s my parent’s piano and it’s the piano I learned how to play on. 10 points to Gryffindor and a high five to whomever can name the hymn that the hymnal is open to.)

photo 4

(This is the well aged piano that God nicely plopped into our lap!)

So I’ve decided to add another ingredient to my little journey to heal my mind. Music. We play music in the house a lot, but it’s not the same as sitting down and playing an instrument, which for me is piano. So here is my next commitment: I’m going to make an effort to sit down and play the piano a couple times a week whenever I go over to my parents’. Here’s the thing, so many people say they have no natural musical talent, but everyone craves music. Those people who say they don’t like music are few and far between. Even as adults, we can benefit from daily exposure to music, which can shape and influence our moods. Want to take it a step further? Join your church choir, start adult piano lessons, or any instrument you’ve been interested in. Might it cost a little extra money? Yes, but you’ll be investing in a skill that could last you a lifetime and a hobby that can help shape your coping skills. Musical therapy can…. well you know what? I’ll talk about musical therapy in the next post…

I am not a doctor or physician, but I consulted both before starting my journey. If you need help consult the professionals immediately! I have no training. The professionals do and they are there to help! 

I’m also not a music expert, except I like music because it’s real purdy. 

Monterey Jack

So I’m having a bit of a rough evening (I wrote this about 2 days ago). My kitchen is disheveled. The meal I was cooking turned out like… well the words I would like to use to describe my black bean soup would not be very lady like. But the fact that my schedule for the day began to flounder that usually tends to mean that I am about to plummet. So my Marine told me that I had to write a blog post. And I could choose out of two topics what my blog post would be about. The two topics were 1. How I was struggling and could feel a potential beginning of an anxiety attack or 2. How I miss cheese. Obviously, I chose the latter.


(My love for cheese is as beautiful as this sunset…a picture I took on a mission trip to the beautiful island of St. Lucia)

You see, my vegan /gluten free/ sugar free diet is almost over. I have 5 more days. 5. The fact of the matter is I really don’t mind this diet. Like at all. (If you wanna know what my diet is and why I’m doing it, check it out here.)  But. Holy cow. I. MISS. CHEESE. When these 5 days are past I will continue with a gluten and sugar free diet. But I will start to add meat back in and enjoy it 1-2 times a week. But I have no idea how I am not going to sit down and devour a block of cheese. Now, I have to be honest, I have had cheese 3 times this past month. But boy, was the cheating worth it. Let’s compare me cheating by eating cheese to if I had cheated on a test in grade school and the teacher caught me. This is how I would have reacted to the teacher:

Teacher: Ruth! What are you doing? This is so unlike you!!!

Ruth: I needed those answers. They are vital for the blood running through my veins.

Teacher: That makes no sense. You know that because of your decision there are consequences.

Ruth: BRING ON THE CONSQUENCES.

Teacher: Are you talking back to me?

Ruth: Your silly consequences are futile against my love of cheating. I don’t care what you have to say. I’d do it 500 more times

Teacher: Let’s go to the principal’s office

Ruth: Should I continue to cheat on my test as we walk there?

I need cheese in my life. In fact the cheese is a part of my life. My Momma can attest to the fact that when I was little I would claim to be a mouse and sit and nibble on cheese, how simply and wonderfully psychotic of me. My husband told me I remind him of Monterey Jack from Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers, hopefully it’s purely by love of cheese and not by my looks that reminds him of Monterey Jack. (Don’t know who that is? I would suggest you look him up) I love the cheese and the cheese loves me. Something doesn’t taste good? Throw some cheese on it. Need a snack. Cheese. Want something gooey? Obviously melted cheese. Toast? Cream Cheese. Dessert? Cheesecake. Halloween costume? Muenster Cheese. Bleeding? Cheese band-aid. Crying? Grilled Cheese sandwich. Country vacation? Cottage Cheese. Broken Foot? Cheese splint. It all just makes sense. Did I mention I grew up in Wisconsin? Our Christmas trees are made of cheese there. Cheese. It’s what’s for dinner.

I know this has nothing to do with depression and anxiety. Except for the fact that my evening feels a whole lot better. Oh. Add that to the list. Need an antidepressant? Cheese it up.

A Treatise on Depression…of Sorts

You wanna know the truth? Depression sucks. Anxiety too. They both just bite. You wanna know one of the main reasons for this? It’s not measurable. I can’t go in and get a blood test done that tells me my depressive levels have sky rocketed or that I my anxiety is off the charts. And because of this no one, not even the person suffering, can truly understand. You wanna know why I had anxiety as a child and never realized it until I was in my 20s? Because I thought it was normal to get these random waves of “unease” that would cause me to be physically ill. I thought it was normal to have to sit quietly and reassure myself that I was safe and nothing was going to happen. And because I thought it was normal, I never shared it with my parents or doctor. And because I thought it was normal, no one saw a trace of it in any tests run at the doctor’s office.

photo 3

(Psalm 31:15 is the passage that I have used as comfort since I first memorized it from my Memory Treasures in grade school. I debated sharing it because I hold this passage close to my heart and didn’t want to share something so personal… I then realized how foolish I was being since 1. God’s Word was never meant to be kept from others, it is meant to be shared 2. I’ve basically already thrown “personal” out the window with this blog)

Today, I know it isn’t normal. I know what a lot my triggers for anxiety are, and I generally know how to handle them. But it makes me sad that when I tell people of my issues I can’t give them tests results to show for it. I get the oddest reactions when I mention my struggles. Truthfully, more than anything, I find the reactions hilarious. When I was first dating my Marine and he asked what my medication was for, his reaction was priceless…. “ooooooooooooooohhhhhh…..” haha I still chuckle thinking about it… I wish I would have just looked at him and said “That’s right kid. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into *insert eyebrow wiggle* ”

But in reality the words for depression and anxiety are so vast in their meanings. Someone can say they are depressed and it can mean…

I’m really sad

Ugh things aren’t going my way

My doctor just diagnosed me with depression

I can’t get out of bed, I have no motivation

I have no emotions

I don’t want to live anymore

You aren’t wrong in any of those assumptions. The word depressed can really be used for all of those instances. So how do you react when someone says they are depressed? Well, it’s hard to say because who knows what they are talking about unless they explain further. So what’s the best response? Don’t ignore them or quickly change the subject. When in doubt, just tell them you are praying for them.

I have days where I wake up and I’m fine. And then I have days, like this past Sunday where I wake up and it’s horrible. And then there are days where it’s slowly building and I plummet. I can’t take a test and look at my depression and anxiety levels to make sure things are going ok. I by no means mean to downplay any disease or disorder where you can take a test and find out how you are doing, I only mean to impress upon people that with depression and anxiety, I can only know it’ll be horrible when I get to that point. And I have horrible thoughts. And I can’t escape my brain even though I want to. And I get irrationally angry at my husband. All of this is so not cool. Because I love my husband. Because I have an amazing life. Because my worth is in Christ, not in my daily actions.

photo 1

(Jesus is the light of the world, the light no darkness can overcome)

I am not a doctor or physician, but I consulted both before starting my journey. If you need help consult the professionals immediately! I have no training. The professionals do and they are there to help!

A Heaping Dose of Medicine

So I thought I would end the weekend/start the week with a little lighthearted post about my favorite type of medicine. I take a dose of it everyday and when I miss a day I can totally tell! Total. Game. Changed.

A dog is a man’s best friend, right? Kind of a cliché phrase, but it is a cliché for a reason. A year and a half ago when I jumped on the crazy train (yes that is how I refer to my several week long breakdown that landed me in the ER… there are two reasons why I refer to it thusly. 1. I try to make light of the situation 2. It was hilarious to watch my parents squirm when I joked about it) I vowed I would do whatever I could to feel normal again. When I was starting to come around I was ready to try some new things. And much to my husband’s complete joy, I thought a dog might help. And so enters Melvin.

Besties

( I believe this was the day after we got Melvers. As you can tell it’s a match made in heaven)

A dog is often thought to be an incredible aid to those who may suffer with anxiety and depression for several reasons:

A dog is incredibly intuitive. I could go on and on about my dog Melvin and his intuition. There have been countless times when I’ve been sitting and crying and Melvin will just come and sit at my feet. Where he will look at me and put his face right about against mine. Even when I was in labor at home my pup came and licked my legs during the middle of a contraction. And if you are wondering, my husband and I are convinced that Melvin knew I was expecting before we knew. This dog knows what’s up.

A dog will keep you company. You are never alone! This has been very nice with me since there are many times when my husband is gone because of the Marine Corps. Especially since Melvin is basically my husband’s twin. Seriously. They both are willing to wrestle those who are twice their size and will most likely come out on top. Not only that but they both play hard and sleep hard. There has been more than one occasion where I’ve called Melvin by my husband’s name and vice versa. Because my pup is always with me he helps keep the darkness that can sometimes come with loneliness. And best of all, I know that both of them will do whatever it takes to protect me and our Baby Girl and keep us happy.  Although I’m pretty sure my Marine won’t run away and shake in the corner whenever I vacuum. But there’s a first time for everything.

Twins

(Yeah, they like to watch Mickey Mouse together… and no, he is not allowed on the furniture…)

A dog forces you to be active. When you have a dog you need to take him outside and go on walks. Sometimes when the darkness of depression sets in it’s hard to get out of the house or even out of bed. But a dog makes you go outside. And things can change when you go outside, soak in the sun, breathe fresh air, and become a little active. You can get a whole new perspective on the day. Seriously. Sounds like a total joke, trust me I would know, I always resist the idea of trying the cheesy “happy go lucky” remedies. But that’s a-whole-nother blog post.

I like to refer to Melvin as my little doggy dose of medicine. When speaking to a psychiatrist who asked me about what I am doing for my depression, my husband piped up before I could say anything and said “she has a dog who is basically an antidepressant”. He brought me so much joy when I was coming out of a joyless time in my life. What’s great now is that I get to watch my little Melvin adore my Baby Girl. And I can only hope that Melvin is for my Baby Girl what he is to me! However, I wouldn’t suggest running to the pound and picking the first dog you think is cute. Get to know the pup and make sure it’s a great fit! I was lucky in that Melvin and I bonded INSTANTLY.

Melvin Bow Tie

(He’s got style and he ain’t afraid to show it)

I’ve never really wanted a pet. But I can tell you this much: I am so happy that we got Melvin. He has been a blessing in bringing a little joy in my life. He also happens to be my husband’s best friend. Like legit besties. It’s amazing what God will bring into your life to help you. Even something like a little white puppers.

Pelvies

(Melveroni and Cheese. Enough said.)

I am not a doctor or physician, but I consulted both before starting my journey. If you need help consult the professionals immediately! I have no training. The professionals do and they are there to help!

Food: A Love/Hate Relationship

I have to start off by saying thank you to all the positive feedback I’ve had with my first post! I can honestly say at one point there were tears in my eyes at all the support and prayers sent my way. This is somewhat of a terrifying experience, because like most humans, I fear failure and rejection in what I do… especially in the things that matter to me. And call me crazy, but my life and personal struggles kind of matter to me.

Disney Castle

(At first glance, this picture has nothing to do with what I am talking about, HOWEVER, I will make the connection. You see, this is a picture of my Marine and me in Disney World- the place where we are truly at our happiest, and I have to tell you, everyone’s feedback made me incredibly excited! An excitement that I thought I could perhaps portray with this happy picture… Did I make a good enough connection? To be honest I just love this pic and wanted to share it)

Hopefully I will be able to continue to give support to others out there dealing with their own battles! So I wanted to continue this blog by sharing the first step I took:

My diet. So, I’m no doctor but I decided to do a little research (looking at pinterest counts as research, right?). I have no idea if what I am doing will help me in the long run, but I know it definitely will not hurt me! So I figured it was worth giving it a try! I had a pretty healthy diet from the beginning, I understood the importance of having a diet primarily consisting of vegetables, fruits, good protein, and so on. But I wanted to cut the crap as much as I could. So I’m doing an experimental month to begin with. I’m cutting out all gluten, added sugars, meat, and most dairy besides butter (because let’s be honest, life without butter would probably make my depression worse).

I’m on my third week of this experimental month, and I gotta tell you, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. I don’t know if it’s been the change in diet, or perhaps my determination of a natural route for my mental health, but I went from being an emotional wreck to having more productive and positive days. Not only that, but my little girl has become increasingly less fussy… I mean that could be because of several reasons: a. she is feeding off my less stressed moods b. she is also benefiting from this new diet or c. she is being a baby and going through different phases of crankiness and good natured-ness. I like to hope it’s not the third one and that next week she won’t go back to screaming, but I really shouldn’t get my hopes up, should I?

Babies: expect the worst so you can be surprised when things go well and you can take a shower. ~An Old Ancient Proverb written 30 seconds ago.

IMG_20150811_152012250 (4)

(But none of the hardships of motherhood matter because look at their incredibly cute little feet!)

 Some of these things I’m cutting out after reading what they could do to my body and the connection to mental health they can have (aka gluten and sugar). This is a great article that gives great insight into the science of what sugar can do to your health, both mental and physical. Since gluten can turn into glucose in your body, it only makes sense to see if there is a difference when you cut it out of your diet. The reason I am cutting out meat and dairy is because I wanted to make sure that my diet was focusing solely on veggies, fruits, and some great undenatured protein that I can’t live without. After the month is up I’ll probably start bringing meat and dairy slowly back into my diet. I’m also trying to incorporate fermented veggies (like sauerkraut) to help regain the balance of bacteria in my gut, which some studies have shown to be linked to mental health. This article is for those of you who are really into the science behind the gut bacteria, while this experimental study is for those who like cold hard facts shown in numbers.

I love to cook, so trying to revamp my cooking to be primarily vegetable base has been a fun challenge for me, and a sort of mental trial for my husband who has always been an anti-veggie weirdo. This is one of the veggie based meals I made for my husband that he actually loved. (I do have to admit though, it was before I began my month long sugar-free, gluten-free, vegan diet so there is some parmesan cheese in it) It is a marinated grilled portabella mushroom “steak” with roasted sweet potatoes and bruschetta salad. I’d like to know if anyone would be interested in a recipe for this? I have a veggie-hating Marine who can vouch for it tasting good. So let me know in the comments if you are interested in a recipe and I will see what I can do!

photo

(I’m super proud of this picture… I sincerely feel like I pulled out my inner photographer/artist when I took it)

I am not a doctor or physician, but I consulted both before starting my journey. If you need help consult the professionals immediately! I have no training. The professionals do and they are there to help!

The “Why” to My Journey

Tattoos

Writing a blog has always been a rather off-putting idea, in my opinion. I enjoyed reading other people’s blogs, but I could not fathom why someone would want to read what I have to say. And who knows, maybe only 2 people will read this blog (not counting my husband as one but counting one of my sister’s- Hi Anna!) But I realized this could be an amazing opportunity for reflection, accountability, and maybe- just maybe- helping someone who might be in a similar position.

I have had anxiety since I was a child and issues with depression since I was in high school. However, I hid it and didn’t seek any sort of help until the summer before my freshman year of college. The next 5 ½ years would be a journey: seeking new doctors, trying new medications, working on coping skills, but nothing seemed to help. It was always a temporary fix. And it was frustrating. How are you supposed to live your life when you never know if a slump is coming or if you can never muster up the motivation needed to live day to day. Sure, things would get better for a short while, but never permanently but I could handle it. What I couldn’t handle was only to come.

A year and a half ago I took the biggest slump of my life. I had had panic and anxiety attacks before, but this is something that was in a league of its own. The kind that lands you in the ER. The kind that keeps you from eating for a couple weeks. The kind where living becomes the biggest burden in your life. So I got prescribed a new medication. Then my dose was doubled.  I started going to therapy more often and eventually I began to feel ok. But if you know what anxiety and depression can do, you know that there can come a point where leaving your home is terrifying: you never know what might trigger an attack. It was the worst chunk of my life. Ever. But with the help of my parents and my then fiancé (now husband) I was able to get through it alive. Which I thank God for every day.

engagement

(The night that my husband I got engaged. Why in the world did I ever think dying my hair that dark wouldn’t make me look like a corpse)

Fast forward a couple months and it was summer. I did a complete 180. I had never felt so content with my life. I married the man of my dreams. I was in great shape. I was working a job I loved outside soaking in the sun. And I was dutifully taking my medication every day (except for one week when I ran out and didn’t make it to the pharmacy and kind of lost it at work and went home raging and crying, whoops). I felt so blessed. It seemed like God had worked some sort of miracle on me. Things had never been better. A couple months into our marriage, the husband and I prayerfully decided that we would put our trust in God, which then lead to one of the biggest changes of my life. A baby.

Family Wedding

(I love my family)

When we decided we would put our trust in the Lord, I realized I needed to take a gander at my medication to make sure that it would be ok to get pregnant on. Well it wasn’t. It was a DO NOT GET PREGNANT WHILE TAKING THIS STUFF OR BAD THINGS COULD HAPPEN type of pill. So, I thought better now than later and weaned off my medication. I was nervous because I wasn’t sure what pregnancy could do to my hormonal balance. But God blessed me and I exceeded my own expectations and the pregnancy went very smoothly.

pregnancy

(Pregnancy does wonders for your figure, I promise)

I began to gear up for PPD (postpartum depression). But I knew one thing: I didn’t want to start up taking any medication. So when the PPD began to hit, I knew I had come to the point where I either needed antidepressants or I needed a plan. I asked my dr. if my antidepressants would affect my baby via nursing and I was told no. But this didn’t sit right with me. I was at a loss and I didn’t know what to do. I had already lived through my worst nightmare and was moving past that. But becoming a mother brought forth a whole new set of fears. What if I had a relapse like I did before? What if I became unable to care for my child the way she needed to be cared for? Would I forever become tied to a medication? Or worse yet, what if my child suffers from the same issues I do? It’s an unbearable thought. I don’t want to have to think about my baby having to experience what I went through and possibly having to rely on a pill to bring her balance.  Therefore I decided I was going to find a new route. A natural route that I can use to maintain my mental health and help my family through whatever may come their way. So now I’m going on a journey to see if I can use food, essential oils, and exercise to manage my mental health.

My Momma always tells me that I have to play the hand that I am dealt. And I’m going to, I’ve just decided I’m going to play it my way.

cropped-baptismal-font.jpg

 I am not a doctor or physician, but I consulted both before starting my journey. If you need help consult the professionals immediately! I have no training. The professionals do and they are there to help!