The Accidental Gardener

I've always wanted to be good at gardening. I'm not. My mom calls me the "accidental gardener." When I plant things they sometimes grow inexplicably well, in spite of intermittent neglect. Other times things that get lots of care and attention still wither away. 

Last month I was diagnosed with a thought disorder. It's called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. When I received the diagnosis I was initially shocked and disappointed. Everyone feels like they have OCD! And if you take a look around my messy house you probably wouldn't believe I have it. But it's not that I need everything to be clean (although it does bother me when it's not- and that has made motherhood hard for me). My problem is my mind is frequently assaulted by unwanted, disturbing thoughts. That's where the disorder lies. 

Here are a few examples: while driving I get the impulse to run the car off the road to see what it would look like after it stopped rolling. My inner voice is incredibly harsh and judgmental. I'm always dwelling on dumb things I've done that I'm sure have made people dislike me. My mind plays out horrible scenes in which my children are harmed and/or killed in front of me. I am ashamed to admit this, but I often compare Michael to other men and internally criticize him, feeling jealous and discontent. The thing that bothers me most about these intrusive thoughts is how I feel it reflects on me as a person for having them. I desperately wish I could extinguish all of them forever. Especially the negative thoughts about my husband. I want to be completely faithful to him in every thought and I desperately want to feel content in my marriage. 

While the diagnosis is new, the disorder has been there for most of my life. I can see now that when I was in middle school it was at it's worst. In the morning I would lay in bed and stare at the clock until the minutes were divisible by the hour. If 6:36 am rolled around and I didn't get up I would make myself wait until 6:42 am. I dieted and exercised excessively because I believed I was fat and should look better. I still catch myself obsessing about my weight. Motherhood has not been easy on my body or my mind. I've been plagued with it for a long time, without having a name for it and with the wrong diagnosis of Bipolar for the last two years. My horrible, paranoid thoughts have made it difficult for me to sustain lasting relationships and I have spent a lot of my adult life feeling like I'm a horrible person for having them. I was stewing on some negative thoughts about my church that were bothering me when I had an amazing revelation. I felt like I needed to share it with you: 

The mind is like a garden. I am the gardener. Negative thoughts are the weeds. It is so easy for them to take root. If you leave them there they can spread and multiply very quickly. There's no easy way to keep them out, and it doesn't make you a bad gardener if weeds sprout in your garden. The way to control weeds is to pull them out when you notice them. So when you have an unwanted, critical, or negative thought, just think of it as a weed. You're not a bad gardener for having a weed. Just realize it's not a thought or idea you want to cultivate in your garden and pull it out and toss it. Spend your energy on the things you do want to cultivate. 

I would like to take this parable a step further; education is like unto intensive gardening. When you go to college, learn a language or an instrument, it's like you are building a new raised bed in the garden of your mind. It's hard work! It takes a lot of effort to learn to play the piano. You have to pour practice into your new skill just as you would pour water over the seeds you so carefully tucked under their bed of earth. In addition to cultivating the skills, talents, and knowledge you would like to have in the garden of your mind, it's important to put energy into cultivating positive thoughts. It's not easy to be content in an imperfect situation. It is hard to focus on the positive when someone has hurt you. It takes time for a situation or habit to change, just as gardening takes patience and time. 

I love this quote and the guidance it gives me in my mind-gardening journey:"Never suppress a generous thought." -Camilla E. Kimball

Don't pull out the good plants in your garden!

Conversely, addictions are like pernicious weeds. They sink their roots deep into the soil of your mind. Some addictions will leave bits of root behind that continue to generate new sprouts. Just keep pulling at those weeds! It's possible to create a beautiful garden no matter how many or how deep the weeds are. It's painful and takes a lot of energy, but it can be done.  

It takes time to change. That's what grace is all about. Our church puts a huge focus on eternal progression. We should constantly be re-evaluating ourselves to see what we could do better as we inch toward to goal of perfection. That mindset has been really hard on me as a person suffering from mental illness. My imperfections blatantly scream at me inside my head all day. It makes me feel like I could never truly be content while I'm mortal and thus, doomed to imperfection. But the parable of the mind-garden helps here too. A dedicated gardener is never truly "done" gardening. Seasons come and go, you learn from each one. It always seems like old people make the best gardeners because they have so much experience that can only be gained during a specific growing season. That is so true with our lives! It's okay if there are things that we could do to increase the production of the garden. The soil can be amended, beneficial insects can be encouraged, new seeds can be purchased. But also enjoy the fruit that this season has brought. Don't dwell on the bitterness of what could have been. Use the knowledge you've gained to benefit your garden during the next season. Michael helped me figure this out when he said: "'Bettering yourself' is really the same things as 'finding happiness'." 

Anyway,  thanks for reading my ramblings :) I wrote this because my thoughts cause me pain and it feels better to get them out of my head and put them in a place where other people can read them. I hope it can help someone as well as help others better understand people with thought disorders.

One Over Flowing Life

My life is over-flowing. It's so full of wonderful craziness it can't be contained and it makes a proverbial mess. When I'm at the grocery store with all 3 kids at least one person always says "you have your hands full." I used to reply "full of wonderful things," but now my retort has changed to "my life is over-flowing." I have a full life, full of love, baby smiles, sticky fingers, 5 year old giggles, poop on the rug, the sweet smell of baby cheeks, and a wonderful partner who supports me through my mental illness. I don't think anyone else could handle being married to me as well as he does. He thinks he's lucky to have me, but I sometimes think he just doesn't know any better because I'm the only girlfriend he's ever had. YOU GUYS I'M CRAZY. He's a saint. He drives me crazy, but I appreciate him.

Ammon woke up this morning and started calling for Daddy. He has just gone to work, so I went upstairs and laid down next to him. I said "Good morning, sweetheart." His hair had the delicious, salty just-waking-up smell as I kissed it. He reached over and caressed my cheek and said "Aww. You're my sweet little heart." Moments like this make my life!

Things I love about Ruby

I love the moment when a baby realizes that kicking a foot in the bath causes a splash. It's so fun to see her get excited about what her body can do. She loves to be held and it feels so wonderful to hold her. She melts perfectly into you, like she's giving you a warm hug.

She loves her brothers and is entertained by them. Even though they are a little rough, she still loves it when they are near her. She smiles when she sees them and Quin can easily make her laugh. Quin loves to roll her over on the bed and play with her.

She is the easiest baby ever! Last night she fell asleep around 10 PM. She woke up at 7:10 AM feeling happy and full of wide muppet smiles. She fell asleep in the froggy seat while Ammon and I took a shower around 9 AM and has been asleep in her bed for two hours!

A Birthday With Depression

Many of you have wished me a happy birthday today, for which I am grateful. Birthdays are hard for me. Not because I'm getting older or closer to dying. I've always been happy to have a birthday to get my physical age to closer match what I feel is the age of my soul. Birthdays are hard because they are supposed to be happy. And they're not. And that makes me feel guilty. My birthday screams "you should be happy!" and all day I listen and wonder why I'm not.

My inner child loves all of the attention from people wishing me happy birthday. The shadow of the child I once was is constantly begging to be validated and praised. I've had a really difficult time figuring out how to be a friend as an adult. I struggle between craving attention and needing alone time. I'm an introvert who has mostly figured out how to behave like an extrovert in public. I only truly feel comfortable being around and talking to other humans when I'm around kids. I love that they are genuine. They will tell you exactly what they are thinking and what they want you to do differently. With adults I constantly feel like I'm playing a guessing game. I want to make the other adults in my life happy, but I'm always paranoid that the people I am surrounded by aren't telling me all the things I do that bother them. And that fuels my social anxiety.

I really should be happy. I have been blessed with three beautiful, healthy, loving children. A fiercely loyal and devoted husband who treats me like a queen. I'm so lucky to live here in a small town that I love, surrounded by family, friends, and an amazing community. We are so lucky to live in a beautiful two story house with a two car garage and a spacious backyard in a quiet, safe neighborhood with kind neighbors all around. Maybe it's hard to have all these things while simultaneously harboring the disturbing sensation in the pit of my stomach that I don't deserve any of it.

I can't handle my life. Maybe I shouldn't have had so many children. I wanted them more than anything, but I'm finding that I don't measure up to the challenge of mothering three small children and maintaining the 1300 square foot home they romp around in all day.

My 25th birthday was probably the worst one. I was extremely suicidal that day, a tragic irony because I was supposed to be celebrating being alive. This year, 27 doesn't feel much better. I don't know how to fix it. I feel like a tiny curl of butter that is trying to be spread across a football field of bread. I'm failing at everything I do in some way. Taking on too much while not doing enough at the same time.

Anyway, sorry to put a damper on your day with my depressing thoughts. I will try to pretend to be happy for you because I know that's what you want me to be. I hope you have a happy June 4th.

A Perfect Moment

Every once in a while you catch yourself savoring a perfect moment. I experienced one such moment earlier today. My parents and my brother had come over to help with yard work in the backyard. Quin and Ammon had been playing nicely and sharing candy from the Strawberry Festival Parade while we worked. I paused from digging up a Rhododendron to hold a fussy Ruby. She calmed the instant I embraced her. As I sat down on the grass, Quin ran over to me with a smile as bright as the sun. He sat next to me and told me how much he loved Ruby. Then Ammon bounded over on his little preschooler legs, cheeks jiggling slightly with each enthusiastic step. He sat so close to me it was almost as if he was trying to sit on the half of my lap that wasn't occupied by Ruby. I sat there with my three beautiful children, feeling the gentle breeze, the warm pressure of my children lovingly leaning against me, the delicious smell and feeling of June wafting over us. Sitting in the back of the yard I was able to fully view the tree that is situated near the garage. I wish I knew what kind of tree it was. It is taller than the house with thousands of narrow green leaves that give a satisfying rustle in the wind. I love that tree. I'm so grateful to the people who planted it many years ago. I appreciate the shade it gives the yard and the enjoyment it brings us. I savored the thought of my kids having memories of that tree and this very backyard where they played when they were little. I want it to stay like this forever. Quin: 5years old, very helpful, empathetic, thoughtful, and overflowing with love. Ammon: almost 3, sweet as honey, thankful, articulate, creative, and loving. And Ruby: nearly 4 months old, calm, easily delighted, intelligent, enraptured by Quin, fascinated by busy little Ammon, with cheeks as smooth as silk and soft hair that smells of honeysuckle. You melt so perfectly into my lap. I love the feeling of my children near me, wanting to be with me and needing me. I love being a mom. There is nothing I would rather do. I am so proud of the wonderful people that my children are, and are becoming.