Realization of a Problem

I have been toying with the idea of writing this for some time now. It's extremely personal, with a little TMI thrown in for good measure. But I share basically everything with you guys, so why not share this too?

Here is the TMI part...we'll go ahead and get that outta the way. I have been bleeding since October. Like...lady parts bleeding. However, I couldn't afford to go to the doctor to get it checked out, so I dealt with it. My insurance kicked in last month, so I finally went to the doctor and found out that I'm not producing enough progesterone and I'm not ovulating. For this, I have to take Provera for 10 days every month.

They also found out that my thyroid is a little messed up. I'm on medicine for that and will follow up in a month to see how it's helping.

But that's not what this post is about. It's about something even more personal. This ordeal has caused me to go into a deep depression that I'm having a really hard time getting out of. As I put it to some friends and to my doc (who will be known, from here on out, as Doc Z), I feel like I'm trapped under water and I can't get to the surface.

I've dealt with depression before. I've always been able to bring myself out of it. Usually, it strikes when my monthly friend leaves. This time, I haven't been able to shake it. I hadn't really noticed it, however. I guess because I'd grown so accustomed to feeling the way I felt. The Hubs pointed it out to me and my bestie backed him up.

Somewhere, in all of this bullshit, I'd gotten lost.

It takes courage to admit it. It takes more courage to talk about it openly. It takes even more courage to bring it up to someone who could likely toss you into the psych ward. If you are a long time reader of this blog, you know that I use to be a cutter. For the first time in several years, the urge to pull a blade across my arm was there and it was strong. Luckily for me, however, I feel strong enough to fight that urge. My life, my family....they are more important than that need for a release.

So, I went to the doctor yesterday for my thyroid. And I took that much needed step to get better. I told her how I was feeling, I told her about the urge to cut, fully expecting to be judged. Doc Z not only DIDN'T judge me, she LISTENED and she made me feel like there was hope. She was AWESOME and words can't describe how thankful I am for that half hour or so she spent with me, just listening to me ramble about nothing and everything.

I never thought I would need an antidepressant. I always thought I was stronger than my depression. I guess, in my already weakened state, my depression finally whipped me into submission. In addition to the thyroid meds and Provera, I am now taking Zoloft. I'm hoping this will help bring me out of it.

Having an amazing support system helps so much. Knowing I have my husband, my family, my friends, my doc, all of these people on my side...it gives me hope. I can see the surface now.

And I know that soon, I'm going to reach it.

Bullying: My Pledge To The World

Sarah: Circa 2000

When I was in middle and high school, I was bullied relentlessly. I was the perfect target; I was overweight, I wore glasses, I had braces, I was poor and I was a nerd.
I've heard it all....."fatty, fatty two by four, can't fit through the kitchen door", etc, etc. No, it wasn't fun times at all. I hated high school, but it was an escape from home, where life wasn't much better (sorry, mom...but it wasn't). Often times, you found me hiding in the library, reading a book. At home, you found me locked in my bedroom, escaping in to the world of Dawson's Creek or Friends.

A scar from one of my cutting sessions.

How did I deal with the pain? I wrote horrible poetry and I started cutting myself. I often thought of suicide but, honestly, was too chicken to follow through, so cutting myself seemed to be the next best thing. This continued into adulthood, but that's another story for another day.
When my kids started school, I was terrified that they'd have to go through the same thing I went through or that, worse, THEY'D be bullies themselves. I tried to teach them acceptance and, so far, I think I've done a pretty good job. They are very understanding that people are different and that they shouldn't pick on them or be mean. Anastasia has a little trouble with this with Sebastian. She can be mean to him and pick on him, but we are trying to break her of that habit.
One thing I teach my kids is that words can hurt.
A lot.

And that picking on people and bullying is so far from cool, it's not even funny. It doesn't make you cool, or rad, or bad ass. It makes you look weak, in my opinion. It makes me feel sorry for all parties, because I truly believe that a lot of bullies are doing it for reasons other than just being mean. I think there is something going on in their home life that is making them so miserable, they are trying to get company.
More and more, you are hearing about young people committing suicide over being bullied. Off the top of my head, I can think of two; Amanda Todd and Felicia Garcia. Both girls committed suicide after being tormented and bullied, in person and on social websites like Facebook and Twitter. Both girls torment and bullying stemmed from sexual things. They were called names, treated horribly, Felicia's sexual act was filmed, unbeknownst to her.
Kids have so many outlets at their disposal these days, outlets that enable them to be even more cruel than necessary. Young kids have Facebooks..hell, MY kids have them! Parents are busy and aren't as proactive in their kids lives. Have you seen the movie "Cyberbully"? I think it's a must watch with your kids.
So, after reading these stories, I decided to take a stand and make a pledge. My pledge is to teach my kids against bullying and to stand up for people they see being bullied. And I, myself, won't be a bully either. I wish bullying would end, but I don't see how when many adults are just as cruel (take the website Cafemom for example.....you'll see plenty of grown women purposely being mean to others.).  The only thing I can do, as one person and a parent, is teach my kids that bullying is NOT okay.

Bullying is stopping here. I'll not tolerate it and I'll not accept it. I wish I could come up with ideas to get this message into schools, ways to help students learn acceptance.
Here is where you can all step in.
Pledge to do your part to teach your kids, or ANY kid for that matter, that bullying is NOT okay. It's simply not.
We may not be able to do much, but if it reaches just one person, then I call it a success!
~Sarah

Our Scars Remind Us That The Past Is Real

My good friend Stephanie, over at Gumdrop Pass (Our Spotlight this week!) posted a really interesting post about scars. You pick one scar that you have and you share how you got it. It can be funny, serious, whatever you want it to be. I'm going to post one that is serious, the story behind it is dark and the message is huge.
I have a scar on my left inner arm, right above a tattoo that I have. It's raised, probably 6 years old, and flesh colored. This scar serves as a reminder that, sometimes, pain is too much to overcome, but stupid things could lead to unnecessary pain to others, because YOU lost control.
I'd only been broken up with my boyfriend of a year and a half for probably 6 months or so. I'd met someone else who was just playing with me and toying with me. I was a single mom of 1 year old twins, working, going to college and taking care of my mother, who was on chemo. I was overwhelmed. I was depressed. I was stressed and stretched beyond my means.
I was sitting in my room, listening to depressing music, lights out, candles burning. I was thinking about my life, all the things that was going wrong and I just couldn't take the pain anymore. So, I resorted to doing something I did quite a bit as a teen. I pulled out a box cutter and decided to cut myself.
Let me back track here. In my teen years, I was horribly picked on. It seemed like kids were really mean back then. I was overweight, I was poor, I wasn't cool at all. And these kids tore into me. I found that hiding in my room and cutting myself eased the pain. So I did that...frequently. I always hid it from my mom, doing it in places that no one would see. I'd slowed down when I met my boyfriend my Junior year. The middle of my senior year, we got married. Almost a year later, I found out I was pregnant, which I lost that baby. I'd started cutting again. Not even 3 months later, I found out I was pregnant again. Again, that resulted in a miscarriage. I kept on cutting. Then, we split up and I moved in with my Dad...kept cutting. Then, I moved back with my mom, started seeing someone, he played me, started cutting again. Then, I met my twins' biological father and stopped. I was done for a long time, almost 2 years. Then that night, I cut again.
I pulled that box cutter across my arm and felt a release. Then, I looked down. I was bleeding...A LOT. More than I'd ever bled. And I got scared. I wrapped a towel around my arm to stop the bleeding and bled through it. I called my friends Justin and Kymmi, crying, freaking out, because I thought I'd hit a major artery. They came over and the bleeding had stopped by then. They talked to me and I cried and got it out and it felt good, better than when I cut myself.

What this taught me was that cutting CAN get too deep and you CAN get carried away. I'm lucky I didn't die that night, because I wouldn't have this AWESOME life I have now. My kids would have been motherless. Looking back, it was stupid and I hate myself for it. But I have this scar to remind me, when things get bad, cutting is not the answer. I haven't cut myself SINCE then.....well, once, but that is actually a funny story. My husband found a fabric cutter at my step-grandma's house and I bet him it wasn't sharp enough to cut skin. It was. lol. Now, I talk to people when I'm upset. Sure, sometimes, when it gets to be too much, I want to cut, but I don't. I have far too much to live for.