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What Scaring Turkeys and Catastrophic Thinking Have in Common

09 Sep

What Scaring Turkeys and Catastrophic Thinking Have in Common

I was out of the house for a while one day not too long ago, and when I came back, the kids were very excited to tell me how our 10-pound Shih Tzus, Samson and Delilah, scared off wild turkeys in our yard. Apparently, they howled and howled, diligently assuming their roles as our protectors, and when the turkeys returned a second time, the kids took Samson and Delilah out again so they could give those birds another talking-to.

I thought a lot about how my pups are really not any different in size than these feathered impostors in our yard. And how in that moment of angst, Samson and Delilah took their job seriously, no matter the cost. Yes, they bark at butterflies. They also bark at the black bear that visits our neighborhood each spring and fall. It really doesn’t matter the perceived foe—big or small—they’re at the ready to scare intruders off, tiny Shih Tzu teeth and all.

And isn’t that really what hypervigilance is? Don’t we all get that way sometimes? With some of the anxiety struggles in one of my children this past year, I have remained in a constant state of “watch,” not being able (or willing) to let down my guard. I think at the root of it is a trust issue. I wrongly believe that the minute I take a deep breath and sigh, all of the balls I think I am holding up in the air will crash down on our heads and shatter, never to be repaired. But, isn’t that really arrogant in a way? Do I really even hold them up? When I look in a mirror reflecting back, I see them up there, but it’s not my hand keeping them spinning in the air. It’s an invisible, mighty one attached to my Father in heaven.

And, the truth is: I have had to scare turkeys this year. There have been wild flocks coming into my life pecking at what doesn’t belong to them. There have been bullies (in adult form), anxiety, depression, toxic people, gossip, malice, slander, you name it! Things have been taken, or attacked, that were mine. And then beyond our own home were dear ones struggling through job loss, affliction, mental illness, death, disease, injury, personal loss of other kinds.

Sound familiar? It’s the world outside of the Garden of Eden—

—And we all live in it.

So, it’s easy to see why we get catastrophic in our thinking after a while. After a year (or even a few weeks) of one thing after another slamming up against us, we don’t live just “at the ready.” We live at Disaster Preparedness Level 10.

And that’s where I was sitting when I went in to see my son’s therapist to check in, only to have her tell me I was readying for a war that isn’t really even on the horizon. And while I wasn’t suited up sitting in a tank, I was definitely eyeing the property line for more turkeys. She more or less told me I could relax my shoulders now. It’s not all up to me. The turkeys aren’t there right now. At ease, Bonnie. At ease.

Say what now? It’s not all up to me?

That was such a huge relief.

I cried for days after that.

Because she was right.

If the Time of Great Sadness comes back into our house again, God will be with me just as much as He was then. Like Samson and Delilah, I will naturally kick into protective mode, but I don’t have to live there all of the time. I can enjoy the in-between moments and live. My Shih Tzus bound around fighting over a rubber alligator and see how many different ways they can jump on my couch when I’m not looking—and practice quick jump-aways for when I am.

The turkeys aren’t actively hanging out in our yard right now. They’re probably a few streets over taking their good ole time crossing a road in rush hour traffic—just because they can. Samson and Delilah aren’t staring out the window in expectation of them. They only scare them off when the need arises.

When anxiety strikes and we can’t let go, we need to know we don’t have to walk around scaring off turkeys. They will find us; they always do, eventually, and if we’re prayerful and consulting with our Father in heaven, we’ll know how to scare them into retreat when they do. But not everything is a wild turkey.

And there’s so much living to do in-between the times the turkeys visit. Catastrophic thinking steals our joy, drains us of the energy we need when it is time to protect, and cheats us of the peace of looking up into the very capable eyes and arms of the loving Peace Giver.

Isaiah 26:3, Isaiah the Prophet speaking

You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you.

John 14:27, Jesus speaking

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

This blog has also been shared at any link highlighted here: Mom 2 Mom Monday Link-Up, Make a Difference Mondays, Pick Your Pin Tuesday, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Grace & Truth, A Little R & R, RaRa Link-Up, Me, Coffee & Jesus, Dance With Jesus, Blessing Counters, Coffee & Conversation, Saturday Soiree, Tell His Story, Find Stability, So Much at Home, Faith-Filled Fridays, Reflect His Love and Glory Link-Up, Bonbon ‘n Coffee Linkup, and Christian Mommy Blogger.

More anecdotal stories about an everyday relationship with God can be found in Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day (includes Book Club Discussion Questions).

 
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Posted by on September 9, 2014 in Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Renewing Our Minds, Shih Tzu Shenanigans

 

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Mental Wellness: Paper Airplanes in Full Flight

06 Sep

When You Are Loving Someone Through a Mental Health StruggleWhen you have a loved one struggle through a mental health issue, you almost stop breathing. You hold your breath each day and ask yourself: “Is he back? Is that him? Will he be staying for a while this time?”

The answer to “How is ____ doing?” has never been: “Aweome, totally back to normal!” or “Oh, all better, thanks!”

Because you don’t trust; you don’t let yourself hope too far into the future; you don’t assume brighter days. You wake up and weep in your Wheaties for the quickest flash of a smile, no matter how fleeting.

I will be dedicating some of my upcoming blogs to laying down the masks and shame associated with mental wellness (and lack of wellness) issues because we’ve personally dipped enough times into this pool to want to come alongside others and say:

“You’re not alone.”

I don’t pretend to understand or relate to every facet of mental health struggles. I am definitely not an expert on the subject. But I am ready to tell our story—which was first my story—and now has touched another one of us. And I won’t stop telling it, in careful honoring of those who struggle, until I feel the hope that carried us through has reached its proper audience.

This story isn’t just ours. It belongs to so many folks. As I finish up these first two books, I would appreciate prayer for this endeavor, for its reach, and for its purpose. I want to shine light in dark places and bring hope to the brokenhearted because that’s what Jesus did for us.

Below is a little glimpse of our better days lately because good moments are to be pinned up on a board and highlighted in bright neon, sang about, and danced to. We find joy and hope in each victory, and we thank God for sustaining us through both still-on-the-runway, engine-maintenance days as well as paper-airplanes-in-full-flight days because there is so much to be learned from both.

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on September 6, 2014 in Anxiety/OCD/Depression

 

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Yelling My Way up the Highway

27 Aug

Yelling My Way up the Highway

Overall, I am not a yelling kind of mom. I have my moments, but overall, I am not too bad on the temper. But this title tells it exactly as it was a few months ago. I yelled my way up the highway. On the phone. To the two family members at home who were not going to therapy, while I went to therapy with a different one. Screamed my way right up to our appointment. Yes, yes I did. To share how I got to this lovely place, let me back up.

So I picked up the child who is dealing with some ADHD-based anxiety. This required me having everything else in place for the two other children during that time. It meant making sure that they had snack to get themselves, managed homework, and were ready in dance/karate clothes by the time I arrived home to take them to their activities. It meant getting to the school before the buses lined up and getting on the main highway traveling one state over before traffic jumped on with me.

But it also meant catching a pastry and frappuccino with the one headed to the appointment. And sitting there getting some work done while soothing music played in the waiting room, eucalyptus scents pumped in the air from somewhere, and chairs were comfy. It meant quiet, calm, taking a deep breath, and something to build good things into my child.

So just as I got on the road, the first child off the bus obediently called in to let me know he had arrived. Twenty minutes later, the second child called. I asked about her day, cheerleaded her on about the list I hoped would be done by the time I came home, and quickly got off the phone, knowing my peeps were home safe and had locked all doors behind them. But then—but then. The phone rang again two-thirds of the way into the next state, and here came that Mama Know: that feeling that trouble was afoot. And indeed it was. There was a control battle going on between the one with homework to do on the computer and the one using it for game-playing who got on first.

And they couldn’t work it out themselves.

And I was driving in traffic.

And I didn’t want to be a parent right then.

I wanted my drive with the other child to be peaceful, expectant, and free of anything at home. But it never is when we are responsible for others, even when they are not physically with us. So, I ended up so frustrated and disappointed with their behavior, after several rounds of the innocent act on both of their parts via phone, that I did what every traffic-crazed, frustrated, stressed-out parent wanting five minutes of peace to him/herself does: I barked out a bunch of consequences, made the recreational-computer-use one get off the computer, drew a boundary that I would not hear any more about it (I’m a boundary junkie, after all), and hung up. But in the meantime I had yelled my way up the highway, and when I hung up, there was complete silence. Not peace, but silence. I think even the radio knew to turn itself off.

The child traveling with me shared the silence with me for the last 6 minutes of the ride. I think he knew better than to mess with me in that moment. But as I pulled in and said I was still angry because of an issue the siblings were having over the computer, this one quietly piped up: “That’s what I figured.” And, BOOM! It hit me that we were on our way to THERAPY, for crying out loud, looking for some peace in a few areas, and I yelled our way there. How’s that for anxiety levels? Blood pressure? And I could just imagine him sharing with the therapist how Mom yelled all the way there. Oh wow. I half-expected her to invite me in to the office as well. But this child, despite the anxiety, put calm into his words. He was gentle, yet strong. He reassured me just by tone of voice.

And God does this. He takes the rage in us and quiets it—when we ask Him. He settles the matter by speaking into the storm. He doesn’t take on the anger of the storm itself or fight with the wind. He just tells it to be quiet. His calming-yet-commanding voice alone has the power to defuse it. Jesus, please tell the storm in me to settle. My rage needs to lick a shut-up-sicle. In Your presence, all chaos must settle and peace usher in.

Mark 4:35-41, Apostle John-Mark narrating

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the Jesus Tells the Storm to Be Quiet
other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

I am not proud of this moment, but  am glad that there are second chances at these times, that the other child didn’t go into his appointment permanently scarred by Mom’s rage, and that I can take my lack of peaceful parenting and give it to God, and when He gives it back to me (assuming I fully let go), He will help me do better the next time. He will teach me and humble me.

And He will for you too.

*This blog has been shared at Women With Intention Wednesdays and A Little R & R.

 
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Posted by on August 27, 2014 in ADHD, Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Grace in Big Gulps, Tweens/Children

 

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School Start: Open House Angst

21 Aug

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I have to admit that I wasn’t very enthused about going to the lower elementary school open house this morning. For one thing, it was a reminder of all the paperwork and gym shoe shopping I still had to do. For another, this week already had a middle school tour, a high school tour, four karate classes, blog deadlines, marketing plan to go over and rework, too many late nights still when the kids should be easing back into earlier bedtimes—but they aren’t—finishing those books that needed to be read over the summer by my resident tween and teen, a husband traveling all week, clean laundry all over the hallway waiting for the folding fairy, and two appointments to catch up with one of the specialists my child sees 45 minutes away. This is on top of the fact that our affordable grocery store chain in the Boston area is still on strike (pretty much the entire summer!). I’m about to let Samson and Delilah (our Shih Tzus) loose to hunt bunnies and squirrels and roast them over the fire because I do not have it in me to go into massive grocery stores and learn a new layout. (And don’t get me started on returning to school the day before the buses roll in to give asthma meds to the school nurse because that is a separate trip from the open house.)

The truth is we have great schools. I’m not unhappy about school starting. But last year was a rough ride for Little Man, and the closer we head into school starting again, the more I see the panic creeping in. It took me a few days, but I think I can name it now. I think he is processing this: “Will I feel that sad again? If we enter the same time of year when the Great Sadness came, does it get to gobble me up again?” And so I gently coaxed him into meeting his new teacher because, even though she didn’t have to, she came in today to reassure her students. But he stood there empty, flat, dark circles under the eyes, and tears brimming but not spilling. He vocalized that he didn’t want to think about school starting. And yet he is a very jovial kid, usually. He’s fun to be around and humorous. This is the kid I wanted to go in and meet his sweet teacher today.

But we don’t plan anxious thoughts. We don’t schedule them. They are always inconvenient. And I felt my own rigidity as I battled within between frustration and great sadness. He met his classmates with cautious greeting, and he wanted to rush me right out of there.

And I took a few steps back. I considered that jovial Little Man can also be fearful Little Man, but one doesn’t mean the other is no longer there. I thought about how it feels to fear the return of the Great Sadness. It sucks us inside-out. But my job is to let him know we are victors, he and I. He doesn’t know my story yet, but I know his. And we can face that time of year again together, gasping for air if we have to, but putting our hands in the hands of Jesus and taking a big step. We are not alone.

This year was full of big steps for Little Man. God gave him many people to help him, and he came through just fine. But even in the low points, there was a Best Friend walking with us, holding Little Man up so he didn’t fold into himself. We keep asking Him to make something beautiful from the Great Sadness. And we know that He will because only He can turn darkness into light that shines such beauty over everything in its path. I’m personally so grateful for this promise that a holy God would walk among us. It brings our family tremendous comfort and confidence. If you believe in Him, where do you feel Him taking steps with you in this season?

Leviticus 26:12, God speaking through Moses

“I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people.”

Philippians 4:4-9, Apostle Paul speaking

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

More discussion on how God walks with us in very tangible, clear ways can be found in Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day, expected September 2014.

 
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Posted by on August 21, 2014 in Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Dance/Karate/Robotics/Band/Basketball/XC Mom, Tweens/Children

 

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Far-Sighted Savior, Short-Sighted Me

16 Aug

Sometimes something stops us completely in our tracks, shutting out all other sound around us, demanding our focus and blurring everything else from our sight. Sometimes those moments define everything from that point forward, setting a new timeline, somehow starting a new chapter we never intended to write—or even read. And then weeks, months, a season or two later, we look back and see the road we went down in that moment that brought both panic and fear as well as blessings. We might even be able to finally bring into focus the things that were blurred for a while, mourning what we missed along the way as a “new normal” invaded our lives. I didn’t want our “new normal,” as I’m sure others didn’t always want theirs, whatever trial stopped them in their tracks. I would rather wake back up to September 2013 and restart, beating against the anxiety/OCD battle that was coming against one of our children. But while we walk this road, not only is there a Savior walking it with us, but He has eyes to see the other side of it. He can see us adapted, adjusted, accepting, dealing, coping, persevering in this new chapter. He can see the fog cleared on the other side: the answers, the new people we are shaped into from being tested in the trials of life. I trust His eyes because mine can’t see that far. How about you? His power is made perfect in our weakness. If you find yourself mourning an old chapter today, wanting the new one to disappear, this verse is also for you today and always, if you place trust in Him. Your Savior deeply loves you— enough to die on a cross for you and me.

2 Corinthians 12:9, Apostle Paul speaking of Jesus

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

 

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Posted by on August 16, 2014 in Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Tweens/Children

 

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