Part III: Should We Take the Big Leap Into Parenthood?

Few life decisions are going to have as many repercussions as the decision of whether or not to become a parent. Few life decisions are going to affect as many areas of my life as the decision of whether or not to become a parent.  Few life decisions are this darn difficult!

For much of my life I've given little consideration to having children.  I imagined myself in a job I adored and the profession-focused lifestyle I imagined left no room for babies, diapers and bottles.  I maintained this position through most of my teens and into my early twenties.  When Kyle and I met we talked about whether we wanted kids.  I didn't think I did, and he wasn't sure he wanted to start having kids at his age (his words, not mine).  (Note:  Kyle and I are 19 years apart.)  

When I started working as a paraprofessional with Kindergarten students, the kid-o-meter in my heart would swing from wild desire to have one of these five year old cuties to the extreme of not wanting anything more to do with children once 3:45 pm rolled around.  I couldn't fathom how they managed to zap the energy out of me so quickly.  They were pint-sized energy vampires.  I don't generally have a lot of energy to spare, either. 

Then came my stint at teaching high school, and I told Kyle that teaching teenagers was the best birth control EVER.  I was horrified at the prospect that my child might turn out like this.  (Of course I had amazing students, too, but in my fantasy, my kids never turn out great, they turn out to be the monsters).  I was panicked at the prospect of raising a teenager "in this day and age".  (Oh, dear, how I sound like the older generations dismayed at the way the younger generation is going...).  How would I ever convince my child to stay away from drugs that are abundant, teenage pregnancies that are glorified and encourage him or her to get that education at all costs?

Despite all that suggested I wasn't mothering material, something inside started to shift in my mid twenties.  Perhaps it can be attributed to mother nature's push for me to reproduce.  Maybe it's my biological clock ticking a little more loudly.  More likely, though, the relationship I have with Kyle and his intensely caring and loving nature began to sway my opinion about whether or not we should have kids.  


Since about three seconds after I met Kyle, I knew that he had an innate ability to care and love, and the more unlovable I become, the more he loves me anyways.  I always think of the expression "My cup runneth over" when it comes to Kyle, because he never has a lack of love and warmth.  I have an intense need to see this man holding his child.  Our child.  He was born to father.  I know this when I see him with other children.  I know this merely by being in his presence.  It was confirmed when I saw the gentle 6 foot tall giant hugging close our 3 pound chihuahua.  Not an ounce of his make-up contains meanness or an uncaring nature.  I know that he would be the best father. 


If I hadn't married such a loving and compassionate guy, I don't think kids would be as much of a consideration for me as they suddenly are.  It is only because he is such quality father material that I have to reconsider my original position and revise the picture of what my future looks like. 


I'm at an age where friends and acquaintances are having several babies each year.  Whereas it used to barely register on my radar, it now becomes surprisingly painful each time I hear the news that so and so is expecting.  Don't get me wrong - I am so excited and happy for those close to me who have made the leap.  Yet, it stings a little.  I can't explain it, and I know it sounds selfish.  I don't mean for it to be so.  I merely mean to draw the comparison between my previous stance of, "Oh, good for them!" and my current stance of, "Oh, gosh!  How bittersweet!"   


I was journaling about this issue this week, and I came to a major realization that helps me partly understand why my stance on childbearing has changed.  At times in my life I've felt that my existence was a mistake.  No one has necessarily made me feel thus; I simply have.  Even though I know that my parents wanted me and waited many years to have me, I've often felt I was a burden to them.  I believed myself to be an emotional burden on my mother and a financial burden on my father.  My perspective on children, then, is skewed.  I've viewed children as a drain.  I viewed them as a burden.  I viewed them as taking the life out of their parents instead of breathing new life into them.  I didn't see the benefits of having children coming even close to making up for all the costs involved; and I'm not just speaking of financial costs.  


I realized, too, that many people in my life are raising kids solely.  I see a lot of one parent families, and while they function and often function well, I know I would have a terrific partner in parenting in Kyle.  I know he would give me the support I need to be the parent I should be.  And I would give that support to Kyle, too. This partnership greatly diminishes that perceived "burden", and so long as I'm fortunate enough to have Kyle in my life, I will have the most amazing partnership.  


Through my journaling and reflection, I realize that the most important lesson to learn is to stop viewing motherhood or parenthood as drudgery.  I can make it - to a large degree - what I want it to be.  Many examples of healthy, happily functioning families exist.  I can make myself and my health a priority and still make my relationship with my husband and my children a priority.  I can teach my children that I have certain needs as a human just as they do.  Of course my needs and wants will often come secondary to those of my children, but that will be by choice, not requirement.  


Having kids also doesn't have to mean that Kyle and I can't enjoy some of the activities we want to experience together.  Even though we have an age difference, there will hopefully be a few years together after our children are raised or at least in college.  Either way, this can't be known, and therefore shouldn't be worried about. It will be what it will be. 


We will develop the life that works for us, either way.  I've come to the decision that if we have kids we'll make it work beautifully, and if for whatever reason we are not given children, that too is for the best.  It will happen the way it is supposed to happenWe will adapt, together, and grow together, the way we always do.

Part II: Reasons I'm Not Sure Kids are For Me...

In post 2 of 3 I list my reasons for being uncertain about becoming a parent. 

• I've already had a lot of responsibility in my life.  Sometimes I feel like I'm finally "free" and not ready to undertake such a major commitment. 
• I have so very many places to see and I fear that if I have kids I won't get to see them.  I especially fear that I won't get to see them with Kyle.
• Kids are a huge financial consideration and we are not in a very comfortable financial position.
• I would have to give up a lot of the free time I have to write, craft and pursue other personal interests.
• I'm not sure I want to give up so much "me" time. 
• I'm also not sure I want to give up so much "us" time with Kyle.
• I face huge decisions as to whether or not to discontinue or reduce psychiatric medications during a pregnancy.  I risk putting myself and my baby at disadvantages regardless of which direction I go with this.  
• Based on my psychiatric history I face a high risk of post-postpartum depression. 
• I wonder how kids will effect my professional life. 
• Beyond pregnancy and beyond the first few months of giving birth, how will being a mom affect my mental health? 
• Sleep is hugely affected by pregnancy and being a new mom.  Lack of sleep and exhaustion have frequently caused harm in regards to my mental illness.  How will the effect children have on sleep affect me?
• More pressure on Kyle to stay with a job for financial reasons and not because it's what he wants to do.
• Kids can strain a relationship.
• Fears that I wouldn't be a good mom. 
• Less peace and quiet - or a different sort of peace and quiet.

If you have opted not to have kids, what were the biggest factors in your decision to remain kid-free?  Please leave me a comment with your reasons.

Part I: To Become Parents or Not to Become Parents...

This post will be the first in a 3-post series about my reflections on whether or not Kyle and I should become parents.  The decision of whether to have kids or not is often weighed too lightly by many people.  It is a huge decision that has not been easy for me. It's a highly personal decision, as well, and I don't allow others' beliefs about whether or not to have children should influence my decision unless I deem their thoughts to be valuable advice for my consideration.  What works for one couple doesn't always work for others, and sometimes special considerations are involved that others may not realize factor into the decision.  

Today's post lists the reasons I have come up with for having children.  Tomorrow's list will showcase those reasons that make me think twice about whether or not to have kids.  Tuesday's post will sum up my reflection on having kids and whether or not parenting is for me (or, for us).

Here is my list of reasons why I would like to have kids, in no particular order:

• I want to experience pregnancy and the sensation of having another life inside me. 
• Parenting would give me a greater sense of purpose. 
• I would love to see Kyle as a dad because I know he'd make an incredible father. 
• I want to know what it's like to bring another life into the world. 
• I want to experience childhood again through the eyes of my own child. 
• I want to take my kids on fun vacations to Disney and other awesome kid places.
• Holidays are more exciting and meaningful sometimes when witnessed through the eyes of children. 
• I want to see my parents as grandparents. 
• I want to give my brother a niece or a nephew. 
• Parenting would give me a focus outside myself. 
• It would be nice to have family when Kyle and I are older. 
• I would have a part of Kyle if anything ever happened to him. 
• I would get to see myself in my children.
• I would get to see Kyle in our children. 
• I constantly think about babies and fantasize about sniffing their wee little heads.  (Is this too weird?)
• The excitement and anticipation of a pregnancy is comparable to few other events in life. 
• I would love to see what perspective my kids have on the world.
• I know Kyle would be an awesome partner in parenting and would give me the time I need to take care of myself so I can be a better mom.  
• The joys of milestones (first steps, words, holidays, etc).
• Seeing how our definitions of life events and our lifestyle in general changes.  For example, a new meaning to "peace and quiet, date night, weekends, etc".  

Leave a comment below with the one or two most important reasons you think exist for becoming parents!

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We Teach People How to Treat Us...

These words kept running through my mind tonight after a phone conversation with my best friend.  She's been dating a guy since May that she met while I was in Texas.  I haven't had a good gut feeling about this guy.  Can't tell you why it was so in the beginning, but I certainly know why now.  He's incredibly jealous.  I would argue, abusively so.  

Over the past few weeks incidences have  popped up that have demonstrated an increasing level of jealousy on his part.  My friend would try to explain that he was this way because he'd been cheated on before, but I didn't buy it.  I was tired of seeing her punished because of what someone else had supposedly done to this guy.  On average, he was a dream boyfriend to her. Treats her daughter like a princess, (in my suspicious opinion, because he knew this was the quickest way to her heart).  Held hands with her, gave her money for groceries.  Took her on dates.  Was just an average joe, but very loving and devoted to her.  And then one night we were headed to Bible study of all things, and his behavior became unusual.  He wouldn't talk to her, said he didn't want to ride home from McDonald's with her, and proceeded to walk away.  We sat through the evening and I could see her mind was not present at the study.  She told me on the way home, "I hope he's not angry that I'm going to Bible study."  I almost laughed.  I wondered how in the world someone would be jealous of someone going to study the bible with other women.  What did he think really went on there?

But she was right.  Later that evening he told her he didn't want her to go anymore.  They got in a small argument and she told him she would be going every Thursday just as she always does.  He was not happy about it, but I guess didn't feel he had any power over the situation.  
 
Over the next few weeks, I saw less and less of my friend.  She canceled on me frequently, but that's not really out of the ordinary because we both have mood disorders and don't always feel up to hanging out together as scheduled.  However, I was seldom seeing her.  A few more incidences arose where he was upset about how she spent her time, and after he grew upset at her for not taking a phone call and wanted to trade phones with her for a week, I finally just told her that I don't like him and I have a hard time being around him because of how he is treating her.  I told her she is my dearest friend, and I can only see him hurting her.  She said she understood but that the good parts were still worth more than the bad.  I couldn't understand that, but said I would continue to be here for her as I always have. 

Today she finally "saw the light" (her words, not mine).  She realizes how controlling and, well, abusive it is really getting.  I asked her if it could get to a violent point.  She says she doesn't think so but then again, who really knows?  She is going to try to keep up the courage to tell him its over.  I hope with all my hopes that she can do this.  

I guess the saying "We teach people how to treat us" is a Dr. Phil quote.  Whoever said it, I agree wholeheartedly.  If we allow someone to treat us less than fairly, we are teaching them that it is okay to keep doing it.  My friend is a gorgeous, sweet, intelligent woman.  Men are going to look at her from time to time because it's natural.  Men are going to notice her.  I am going to want to spend time with her, because we're friends.  She told me tonight she's only been allowed to see me when he's at work. I knew that.  We didn't have movie nights anymore, we didn't hang out just out of the blue.  I may not have known he'd forbidden it, but I knew in my heart of hearts he had established a certain time schedule for our friendship.  And by going with it she was teaching him that it was okay.

I love her dearly, and the only reason I haven't liked him was because I knew he would hurt her.  A tiny part of me didn't want to be the one left to clean up the mess.  But the biggest part of me didn't want to see her heart broken, and inevitably that's happened.  I see so many women go through this.  It's always a reminder to me that we do indeed teach people how to treat us.  When we don't - no, when I don't - stand up for myself, I teach people that it's okay to walk all over me.  And it's not.  It's very hard to stand up for myself sometimes, but the more I do it, the better it feels, and the easier it gets, over time.  I'm glad this is a lesson I'm learning now, and I hope it's a lesson my friend can learn, too, because she's worth so much more than she believes she is.  We all are.

Meds or Madness?

The most frustrating part of having bipolar disorder has been the repetitive cycle of trying different medications and having to wait a minimum of six weeks for most to even begin to work.  Psychiatric medications are abundant, and each medication family has it's benefits and a seemingly endless list of potential side effects, many of which are none too benign.  Some drugs that provide the most help to bipolar patients can also be the most toxic to us, so routine bloodwork and other testing is often necessary to ensure that patients don't become physically ill from their psychiatric medications.  

Psychiatrists blend together countless medications to create the perfect concoction for each patient.  Often, we patients end up with drugs that are prescribed only to offset the side effects of other drugs. It creates a domino effect of sorts that can lead to patients taking a shocking amount of medications each day. 

Psychiatric medications must be taken at certain times throughout the day, depending on the drug and the needs of the patient.  Some patients take drugs three to six times a day.  Some people, like me, take some drugs first thing in the day and then other drugs at the end of the day.  Patients find all sorts of reminders to help them keep up with their dosing schedules.  Some of us use medication trays labeled with days of the week and times of the day.  I put reminders in my calendar on my cell phone so it will beep to tell me it's time to take my meds.  There are also med trays with alarms built in. Some people have a friend call them, or they set a regular alarm in the house.  Orchestration of a med schedule can be a major task for some psychiatric patients. 

Then the side effects.  I've had them all.  Everything from weight gain, anxiety, nausea, muscle twitching, headaches, sexual dysfunction, appetite suppression, irritability an on and on.  Sometimes I would manipulate my meds.  I would take them at certain times, or not take them at certain times.  I would learn how each one affected me and I would adjust dosing schedules myself so as not to have to pay for a trip to the doctor's appointment.  (This is NOT something I would encourage anyone to do!!!)

I have resented my meds at times, and I have been deeply grateful for them, too.  I curse the way they make me feel sometimes, and at other times I am so glad they help me get out of bed.  I grow dismayed at the way they stunt my creativity, but I appreciate that they give me focus.  It's truly a mixed bag when it comes to meds. 

I've had people tell me, "Oh, you should just get off those meds.  You'd feel so much better."  Or, "You're just using those meds as a crutch.  You could do this on your own."  I used to get angry at such insults, but now I just realize those persons don't understand mental illness.  I doubt those same people would make those remarks so a cancer patient receiving chemo or a diabetic using insulin.  And yes, there are folks out there who do not believe in medications and pharmaceutical intervention and they are entirely welcome to their opinions, but as for me, I know that I will rely on psychiatric medications for the rest of my life unless a better alternative for treatment or cure of bipolar disorder is discovered.  And I'm okay with that.  I haven't always been okay with it.  There are still days when I don't want to take my meds.  There are days when I skip them altogether.  But most often I am glad that I have found a combination that works well for me. 

In two weeks I will see my doctor to tweak my medications.  I need help in a couple of areas and I am having trouble controlling my weight because of a certain medication.  However, the medication works so well in the area that it is prescribed for, that I will take the risk of the weight gain before I quit taking the med.  It's a pro/con sort of situation.  Which outweighs the other?  

Meds, for many, many people are a simple way to manage an illness.  For some people, medications are an enemy of sorts.  For others, meds are seldom given a second thought.  I find it interesting how my relationship with medications changes as I become more settled with the notion of psychiatric illness and treatment.  The medication element is certainly a very important part of the journey to mental health.

Having Regrets is Pointless - I Choose to Learn from My Mistakes...

In the last 48 hours the topic of regrets has come up in my life a couple of times.  Once was on the 50 questions post I did, and two other times it has coincidentally come up in real-life conversations I've had.  I feel strongly that regrets are pointless.  What has happened has happened, and there is nothing to do about it other than learn from it and keep a similar occurrence from happening in the future.  

People most often regret those events that cause them pain or embarrassment.  It's easy to wish the pain away and to want to re-experience the moment in a more positive way, but this is a situation when "no pain, no gain" really applies.  We don't grow from the easy life events.  We grow when we hurt; we hurt when we grow.

By virtue of the fact that we are human, we more than likely have a skeleton or two in the closet, or moments we remember with anguish and try not to remember.  I have many corners of my memory that are shady and cobwebby and which I try not to disturb.  That gets me nowhere, though.  

Have I made stupid decisions?  Undoubtedly.  Have I hurt others and then felt very badly about it and wanted to undo it?  Of course.  Each circumstance is a great opportunity for me to reflect upon and think about what I would do differently next time to prevent the same outcome.  History does often repeat itself, but it doesn't have to.  In instances that I might choose to regret, I instead look at it as gift to myself.  A chance to grow and be the person I really want to be.  Otherwise, I'll always just aspire to be that person and never really get there.

I'm Almost to my 100th Post...

How should I celebrate my 100th post?  Would you like a giveaway from my Etsy shop?  Would you like to see a guest poster?  Give me feedback and help me celebrate 100 posts!

50 Questions to Ask Myself...Part II

1. Do you think you can be completely satisfied living where you do right now?  Yes.
2. What do you want to accomplish?  I want to help others. I want to feel good about myself and proud of my accomplishments.  I want to write a memoir or other work of nonfiction.
3. Do you want to change your career? Absolutely!
4. Do you wish you lived closer to a certain someone or group of people?  Yes, a certain someone in Oregon. 
5. Do you wish you lived in a foreign country or a far away state?  Every now and then I have a hankering for a fresh start, but I love Wyoming.
6. What are three things that you do everyday that make you totally happy?  Check my email to see who's been thinking of me.  Play with my little Pip and then cuddle him until he falls asleep.  Receive a kiss from my hubby before he leaves for work and as soon as he walks in the door at night.  
7. What do you want to pass on to your children?  Stability.
8. What is something you have never tried but would like to?  Karate or judo.
9. Are there things in life you wish you could reverse or make right?  Generally I don't waste time thinking about what could be.  I learn from my mistakes and move on.  We make mistakes for a reason.
10. Do you feel like you have enough money to live the way you want to?  No, but that is mostly my own fault.
11. Are you happy when you think about the upcoming day and all that it comes with?  Generally I am neither happy nor unhappy.  Just endure it sometimes, I suppose.
12. What do you find challenging?  Sometimes simple things, like being around other people or getting out of bed.  Relationships are always a challenge, but not always in a bad way.  My anxiety challenges me to be courageous instead of controlled by it.  Figuring out what to do with my life has been perhaps the biggest challenge.
13. What do you find thrilling?  Sadly, shopping at times.  A great class.  A great conversation with a knowledgeable and reflective person whom I admire.  Payday.
14. What are three memories you haven’t yet created but you would like to?  Seeing my first book in print.  Completing my thirty before thirty list.  Seeing Peyton win a superbowl - in person!
15. Do you feel energized when you work?  No, I am generally depleted at the end of the day.
16. Do you feel creative when you work?  No, although the kids are certainly creative in coming up with the 9 million reasons they have to leave the classroom right this moment.  I suppose I try to get creative in ways to say "Get to work or else".
17. Describe what you consider work, and what you consider play. What are the differences?  Work depletes me.  Play gives me the energy and inspiration to work.
18. Do you feel blessed or lucky to wake up each day? How can you get to that point?  Not sure I feel blessed or lucky but I face the day with much more energy and positivity than I once did.  I generally am okay with starting the day.
19. If all of your debt was forgiven tomorrow, and you had a completely clean slate, what is the very FIRST thing you would change about your life?  No more credit cards.  EVER. 
20. Where are three places you have always thought about living but never did? New England, the upper West coast.  Idaho.
21. When do you want to retire?  No idea.
22. Is there an award or accolade you have always dreamed of winning or being recognized for?  Nobel Prize in Literature, of course.
23. If you could learn how and money was not an issue, is there anything else you would do for work besides what you are doing now? Be specific.  I would go back and stick to a Literature Masters and PhD program.
24. List three things you would immediately change about your work day if you were the boss (assumes you are not the boss).  Late start, few meetings, clear responsibilities.
25. List three things you would immediately start doing on the weekends if you had the money.  Travel! Travel.  Maybe travel.

50 Questions to Ask Myself...

Over at Living Legacy they had this list of "50 Questions to Ask Yourself" and since my thoughts are racing tonight and I can't sleep I thought I would attack the first 25 and tie it up with the second half tomorrow.  I've had a less than wonderful week and I'm really struggling to look on the bright side today, so I'm hoping this activity will give me some perspective. 

1. How do you really feel about what you are doing right now at this exact moment?  I'm glad I'm blogging but I'd rather be sleeping in bed with my little Pip and Kyle, while the heating pad keeps my feet warm despite the cool October breeze that pleasantly chills our bedroom.
2. What is your fondest childhood memory? Who was there? What was going on?  My mom reading with us or going to work with my dad.
3. How comfortable are you in your home?  Right at this moment, the mess is making me want to crawl out of my skin.
4. How comfortable are you in your town/city? State?  Love my state, mostly love my city but sometimes I miss the quiet of the small town or country life.
5. What kind of weather do you like? Spring weather - 70s with a light breeze and lots of sun.  An occasional rainy day is also fun.
6. Do you believe you can have your cake and eat it, too? Why or why not?  Yes, if you play your cards right.
7. What is one quality about your parent(s) that you really loved? Their unconditional love.
8. What is one quality about your parent(s) that you really do not like?  Mom's swearing, Dad's having to work away from home sometimes.
9. Do you like what you are doing for money?  Not loving subbing.
10. What do you feel is your greatest skill?  Hmmm... I hope my writing but I don't know.
11. What do you feel is your greatest personality trait?  My caring nature
12. Do you feel like anything in your life is holding you back from ultimate joy? List everything.  My tendency towards depression, my spending habits, my fear of people,  my occasional dislike of myself, my extreme introversion, my tendency towards pleasing everyone else and not myself.
13. Write a paragraph or two about your ideal weekend/time away from work. Include location, sights, smells, food, activities, and people.  I love solitude and quiet.  It would include sleeping in late on Sunday.  I would have cleaned the house on Friday from top to bottom.  Saturday consists of catching up on odds and ends.  Sunday Kyle and I would watch NFL with Pip and take a nap.  We would play scrabble.  Kyle would cook a turkey and mashed potatoes.  We would enjoy the fall weather and temperatures by taking a walk together.
14. How close are you in proximity to the people you absolutely adore the most?  I have a small social network that mostly consists of family and a couple of friends.  Most everyone lives very close except for one person.  I don't have a wide range of relationships,  but the few that I have tend to be close.
15. What do you want out of life?  To do good work, to be as happy as possible, to appreciate what I have, to know I am doing what I love.  To have a purpose. 
16. How do you think people will remember you, when you die? Hopefully they will say, "She did her best.  She loved, played had fun while she was here.  She triumphed over obstacles."
17. How do you want people to remember you, when you die?  She enjoyed the ride.
18. Write your epitaph - the sentence you would want to appear on your grave.  "Lived every minute to the fullest."
19. What is one thing you could do today, this week, this month, or this year to get a step closer to creating the legacy in #17?  Conquering the items on my 30 before 30 list. 
20. How do you feel about your home furnishings?  Love some, tolerate some.
21. Do you have a hobby that you like to do but you don’t get paid for? What is it?  Writing.
22. Does money hold you back from anything? What does it hold you back from? Be very specific.  Because my spending habits are out of control thanks partly to bipolar disorder, money is a major issue for me right now.  It is very stressful, embarrassing, frustrating and plain old tough to deal with.
23. What do you think of passionate people?  I admire and envy them.
24. Do you know anyone who you feel is living their dream? Who? What do they do all day and night? Be very specific.  Unfortunately, most of the people in my inner circle are merely getting through.  They plug away at jobs or lives because they have to, not because they want to. 
25. Do you think you can be completely satisfied living where you do right now?  Yes.  Make the best of what you have.

100 Simple Pleasures...

After the heaviness of the last post I thought I would look on the bright side with this post of 100 of my favorite simple pleasures.

1. Sleeping in on a rainy, snowy or cold and cloudy day.
2. The way I feel after a good workout.
3. Putting the heating pad at the foot of the bed or turning on the electric blanket to let it warm the bed before crawling between the sheets. 
4. A real letter in the mail - especially one with stickers or fun decorations. 
5. Spending the afternoon reading a stack of favorite magazines. 
6. Hitting only green lights on my way home from work. 
7. Someone remembering me or recognizing who I am. 
8. Getting a parking spot close to the door when I'm in a hurry. 
9. The smell of rain. 
10. The first spring thunderstorm when I am cozy in bed and curled up with Kyle.
11. A favorite sweatshirt or sweater and jeans. 
12. Anything lavender. 
13. The sweet scent of lilacs.
14. The comforting scent of baking bread. 
15. The first bite of a slice of cheesecake. 
16. The feel of the sun on my face. 
17. A slight breeze on a hot night. 
18. Holding hands with Kyle.
19. Freshly washed bedding - especially if I can sleep in the next day. 
20. Chapstick.
21. Knowing I can stay home on a cloudy, rainy or snowy day.
22. Football games. 
23. Snuggles with my hubby. 
24. Snuggles with my puppy. 
25. Friendship.
26. Understanding another without saying a word.
27. The scent of a bookstore. 
28. Cracking the spine on a new book.
29. A brand new purple pen. 
30. A new notebook to write in. 
31. New journals. 
32. Wearing a favorite outfit.
33. Cute shoes at a bargain price.
34. Feeling pretty.
35. Helping others. 
36. Making cookies. 
37. The repetitive task of folding, hanging and putting fresh clothes away. 
38. Knowing you have nowhere to be. 
39. Paying the bills. 
40. Giving a gift.
41. Planning to do something warm for someone.
42. Writing lists. 
43. Finding anything hedgehog.
44. Harmless secrets. 
45. Ignoring gossip.
46. Watching water run down a creek or river.
47. Throwing rocks into water. 
48. Breathing in fresh air.
49. Hearing a favorite song on the radio.
50. Singing along at the top of my lungs. 
51. Fresh bathmats in the bathroom. 
52. An afternoon nap. 
53. Finding a bargain. 
54. Sunday oatmeal.
55. Watching football while snuggling under a blanket on the couch with Kyle. 
56. Riding my bike and feeling like a kid again. 
57. Being read to by my hubby. 
58. Reading to my hubby. 
59. Scrapbooking memories. 
60. Making memories.
61. Coloring - I never get too old to get satisfaction from staying inside the lines. 
62. Flowers - any kinds, but especially pansies or carnations. 
63. A special dinner out. 
64. Time with family and friends. 
65. Making a child happy. 
66. Making a spouse happy.
67. Making anyone happy.
68. Singing in the shower.
69. Having a new scent of shampoo, shaving cream or hairspray to try.
70. Getting my nails done. 
71. Pedicures!
72. Massages.
73. Getting excitedly greeted by my puppy, whether I've just been out to get the mail or out to get groceries.
74. Getting a sale on Etsy.
75. Seeing someone remembered me on facebook.
76. A comment on my blog.
77. An email from beloved friends or family. 
78. Chocolate. 
79. A stack of books in my "to read" file.
80. Soft cotton pillowcases. 
81. Fuzzy socks or favorite slippers. 
82. A drive with my honey. 
83. Fridays.  
84. Weekends.
85. Notecards. 
86. Organization.
87. Putting the pieces together. 
88. Making it work. 
89. Knowing I've taken the right action.
90. Letting the other guy go first.
91. Knowing I'm loved. 
92. Finding purpose. 
93. Thinking about sweet memories. 
94. Making sweet memories.
95. Christmas shopping. 
96. Wrapping presents.
97. Asking for what I need. 
98. Smiling instead of grousing. 
99. Being thankful instead of crabby. 
100. Loving what I have.

The Hardest Post I've Ever Written...The Longest...But the One You Need to Read the Most

September 10th was World Suicide Prevention Day.  I wanted to write this blog post then, but I didn't have the courage yet.  

November 20th is National Survivors of Suicide Day.  I am glad my friends and family won't be recognizing this day.  They very easily could be.  

October brings out a sort of pensiveness in me; a meditative and solemn thoughtfulness.  You see, six years ago this month I attempted to take my own life. 

Yes, I am a sort of suicide "survivor".  Not a year goes by when I don't use the autumn quiet of October to reflect upon how far I've come since that dismal month when I wanted so badly an end to the emotional pain that crushed me.  I know I will not be able to find the words to explain what could possibly be so wrong in my life that I would turn to such an extreme alternative, but I will try.  


It had been an incredibly difficult year for me.  I was in my third year of college, and I couldn't sleep for days at a time.  I was exhausted, yet I would lie awake night after night until the sun would finally rise and I would fall into a fitful sleep for an hour or two before the alarm would awaken me for my 8 am class.  After years of struggling with undiagnosed depression, I finally began seeing a college counselor who encouraged me to see a doctor.  As a broke college student, I could only afford to see a physician's assistant at the local clinic.  She put me on Prozac.  I continued to see the counselor, but my moods didn't change much, and my sleep got no better despite numerous over-the-counter and prescription sleep medications.  I felt that I must be a failure in some respect because the miracle drug that had rescued so many from the brink of despair seemed to do me no good.  I must not be trying hard enough.  I didn't want to disappoint my doctor by telling her that I wasn't better, so I just kept the fact to myself. (I clearly recognize now the clouded thinking and clouded judgment I had then, but at the time it all seemed perfectly logical). 


Through the summer my depression worsened and my shift-work as a night security officer at a state park only added to my sleep problems.  I had also been living with my grandmother at the time, and our relationship was quickly deteriorating.  When I wasn't at work I was in my bedroom whether I was sleeping or not.  I saw no one, went nowhere except to meet with my counselor, and I had no one over to visit.  As the summer wound down my job ended and I looked forward to the start of the semester.  

School gave me my sole sense of purpose.  I had wanted to go to college since I was in grade school, and I knew that college was one of the only ways to succeed in life and get to the many places I had hoped to one day be.  It also gave me structure and routine that were essential to my well-being.  All sense of stability dissolved on the first day of the semester, though, when my situation with my grandmother came to a head.  The night before we had had a disagreement, and it was the straw that broke the camel's back for me.  I wrote a letter to my grandmother telling her that I thought it best for both of us, as well as for the sake of our relationship, that I find a place of my own to live.  I told her I loved her and valued our relationship, but that I believed we would not salvage it if we continued to live together and eventually despise one another.  Because she would not come out the next morning, I left the letter for her as I left for classes. 


When I came home a few hours later, she had all her belongings packed in garbage bags and informed me she would be gone by the end of the week.  She didn't even know that she had a place to go but she was leaving promptly anyways.  I had less than four days to figure out what to do.  She had been paying our living expenses, which I was very grateful for.  It was the end of August, and the rent was due in just a few days.  The rent alone would take 25% of my student loan money, and that would only cover one month.  I was in no position to try to find roommates, having lived basically as a hermit for two years and knowing virtually no one. 


I eventually broke my lease (well, grandma's lease, actually), something that I felt a great deal of guilt over (after all, a contract is a contract).  The one friend I had offered to let me stay with her until I figured out what to do.  I thought I would probably just move into the dorms at the start of the second semester.


I also had to find a job.  I had tried to work while going to school several times, but I always became overwhelmed and felt forced to choose between my education and my job.  Living with Grandma had allowed me to not work, though money was tight.  Now work was not optional, so I began working at a laundromat.  Very quickly, I was once again deeply overwhelmed.  My anxiety and my depression made juggling work and school so difficult for me.  I saw so many fellow students working even full time jobs while going to school, and I couldn't even manage 20 hours a week.  I felt like such a failure.  Worse yet, I felt that I had to choose work or my education.  I wanted my education, but I couldn't see how it was possible without working.  I couldn't imagine a life that didn't allow me to finish school. School was everything.  It was the reason I got up each day. 


Only problem was, pretty soon I couldn't even get up with the promise of interesting classes to motivate me.  Sleep was even harder to come by than it had been before, and I was so incredibly exhausted.  I can't explain the tiredness that I experienced.  It must be akin to the exhaustion a new mother feels.  It was relentless and it only compounded all the other problems I was experiencing.  I was beginning to see little light at the end of the tunnel.  I started missing a lot of classes.  I had so much social anxiety that the prospect of sitting in a crowded classroom gave me panic attacks.  My depression was so great that I was convinced I was too stupid to grasp the complex subject matter.  I felt I was a waste of space.  I believed that my amazing professors were wasting their time with me and that there were far more deserving students that should benefit from their time.  Who was I trying to kid?  I wasn't college material.  The very classes that were once my sole motivation became one more reason for me to be convinced that I was taking up resources that were better suited for others. 


Over the course of the month of October all of these thoughts became more and more consuming.  The exhaustion became harder and harder to ward off, and it began to cause a sense of utter exhaustion in another form - emotional exhaustion.  I felt I had been fighting for years.  I was losing the battle, I feared, and I was tired of being tired.  I was tired of fighting.  I just wanted the pain and the tiredness to stop. 


I cannot clearly recall the specific time frame when the suicidal thoughts began.  I suppose I had actually thought about suicide since the time I was in high school.  The option became viable for the first time in my life.  Where once I had merely thought about it in passing, I now began to think about ways I could accomplish it. I didn't want to be a burden on anyone anymore.  I didn't want someone to clean up my "mess" - that is, I didn't want to harm myself in a way that would be messy for whoever found me to clean up. 

I ultimately decided to use pills, because I believed that they would be a relatively simple way to carry out my plan.  I also had a great deal of them from the many unsuccessful attempts to find a prescription that would allow me to sleep.  Midterm break was coming up and I was scheduled to go to my parents' home to visit for a couple of days.  I decided that I would make that trip, and that I would take the overdose of pills upon my return.  I suppose in some way it was a last visit to my parents.  In some ways I wanted to make sure they were okay when I left them.  


I felt a lot of guilt that whole weekend, but I also felt like I would be sparing them some sort of burden.  I can't really explain what I mean by this, but I guess whatever guilt I felt I also felt was balanced out by the fact that they wouldn't have to "deal" with me anymore.  I couldn't bare the thought of disappointing anyone.  My dad went elk hunting that weekend and scored his first elk in many years of hunting.  He was elated.  It was the happiest I had seen my parents in some time.  I had such mixed feelings on the way back to my college town that Sunday.  Part of me felt so grateful to be leaving my parents when they were so happy.  But part of me felt guilty because I knew that my leaving them would  cause them pain ("leaving" was the way I thought of my impending suicide - I couldn't use the harsh term "suicide" at the time, and it's still hard for me to use it).  


I didn't have a specific time in mind for my overdose, but I figured it would occur Monday during the night.  However, as hour after hour ticked by on Sunday night and I could not sleep, all I wanted was relief. I just wanted the pain to end.  Emotional pain.  Physical exhaustion.  The self hate.  The sense that I was burdening the planet. I wanted it all to go away.  And so I swallowed several handfuls of pills.  I was scared.  I didn't know what to expect.  I remember thinking, "I wish I had Googled this so I knew what to expect."  I hoped I would just go to sleep.  I lay down on my bed and picked up my worn copy of Adam Bede, the novel I was reading for a favorite class.  I would read while I waited to simply fall asleep.


I couldn't concentrate, though.  All I could do was imagine the faces of all the people who had been trying to help me through this trying time.  I had a very caring counselor at the college.  I had several wonderful, compassionate professors who had been very understanding about my haphazard attendance.  One instructor in particular had my best interest at heart and had shown an immense amount of support.  I had a roommate that had opened her home to me when I had nowhere else to go, and now I was putting her in the position of being the one to find me dead.  And then there were my parents.  Who would take care of them and make sure they were okay?  Who would tell them not to blame themselves?  I hadn't left a letter, because I didn't really feel like there was anything for me to say.  I couldn't explain why or how it had gotten so wrong that I felt like the only option I had was to die.  Nothing I could say would be enough.  


I couldn't do this to them.  I couldn't hurt the very people who were holding me together and showing me so much love and support.  It was not fair to them.


They say suicide attempts are a call for help.  Perhaps.  More often than not I think they are simply a plea for the pain to stop.  Maybe it's all the same.  I know I just wanted it not to hurt so much anymore, and I couldn't find any alternatives in my addled state. 


This story could stretch on for hours, so I'll sum up the ending here.  I awoke my roommate and asked her to take me to the hospital.  I was given activated charcoal to rid my system of the many pills I had taken.  This was a horrific experience that I will spare you details of, though better, I assume, than having had my stomach pumped.  Because I had no health insurance and because I convinced the counselor that I was "fine", I was released by 8 am, a little more than four hours after entering the ER.  Isn't that great?!


I haven't shared this story with many.  There is much more to it of course, but the fairy tale ending is that I'm here today and doing relatively well, despite many obstacles along the way. And I'm grateful to be here. 

So why share it now?  In my quest to reduce stigma of mental illness, and to provide a glimpse of what motivates me to work so hard for my Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance chapter, I think it's essential that I tell my story.  I am not ashamed of my past. I learned valuable lessons through every step of the journey that I might not have had any other way.  While my life path has not been easy, it is what it is.


I was mostly concerned with what those closest to me would think of me.  Would you think me weak, stupid, crazy, careless, selfish, etc.?  Maybe so.  Five years ago I would not have been able to stand it.  Today I can, because I know that I'm strong enough to make it through anything - sometimes it just takes a lot of patience. 


Mostly, I wanted you to know that you just never know who might be on the verge of making such a dark choice in their life.  The smile you give to someone might be the very thing that makes them postpone their decision.  The essay you read to your student upon her return after a brief absence after her suicide attempt may be the very thing she needs to hear to know that at least one person is glad she wasn't successful for once.  Maybe you shoved a ten dollar bill into someone's hand as she left your presence so she could buy something to eat.  You never know when something you've done has saved a life - even if you think it too small an act to matter. 


Everyone is affected by suicide.  Someone you know and love has thought about or considered suicide.  You might not even know that she once attempted it.  Through the sharing of stories like mine we will be able to reach out and hopefully prevent many more stories like mine.

How I'm Celebrating Mental Illness Awareness Week...

It's Mental Illness Awareness Week (MIAW).  In 1990 Congress established this week to recognize and speak up about the importance of mental health issues in order to broaden awareness of mental illness.  Every event you can imagine is going on this week in the US and Canada to commemorate MIAW.  People are marching, previewing films, holding vigils, and some television networks are airing mental health related shows. Whether we are participating in some major event or recognizing MIAW in a more personal or private way, this week is an opportunity for those of us with mental illnesses to talk about our experiences without shame and without fear of stigma.  

I'm doing several activities to celebrate MIAW.  I'm launching a fund-raising campaign in order to provide my local Depression and Bipolar Support group with new members, new opportunities, and better support.  Obviously I have personal experience with mental illness, but I could certainly use some instruction to help me better facilitate the group that I founded.  I am also campaigning for new members by contacting as many local health related businesses such as hospitals, doctors offices and therapists to spread the word about our group and generate more membership.  All of this costs money, of course, so I am solely trying to find sources of funding. 

I'm contacting members of my group who have requested my help in various ways.  One woman needed some information on local medical professionals who might be able to help her son.  Another woman just needed someone to check in with her a couple of times this week.  She has no support anywhere else.  And a third called just wanting information on where we meet.  These tasks occur almost every week, but I'm especially aware this week how important these seemingly small actions are.  They are making a difference in other people's lives one person at a time.  

As the recipient of a lot of love and concern by my spouse and friends and family, I am making sure that I tell each of them how much I appreciate the care they show me by asking how I am, listening when I am struggling and trying to understand what life is really like for me at times. 

I am trying to better educate myself in many issues that interest me but that I don't have much knowledge in, specifically mental health advocacy and work to reduce stigma related to mental health issues.  I am growing more passionate about these issues and I am leaning towards pursuing a career in some aspect of one or both - who knows!  But first, I must learn more. 

I'm trying to help educate others by spreading the word about mental illness resources and giving others information via Facebook and emails.  I am also providing, as usual, a great deal of literature to support group attendees and any other interested persons. 


I'm writing about mental health related topics on my blog, as I do from time to time.  


I'm donating a small financial gift to the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance. 


Finally, I am going to blog later this week about a part of my battle with depression that I have kept very private.  I wanted to blog about this topic last month, but couldn't get up the courage.  While I'm still hesitant to discuss it publicly, I have decided I will in the hope that it helps someone else, and also with the hope that it will explain to others why the causes associated with mental health awareness are so important to me.  So stay tuned this week as I continue to post MIAW related posts.  

For My Own Good...

I was thinking today that even as I get older, it doesn't get any easier to do those life chores that fall under the heading of "For My Own Good".  I suppose I imagined that at some point, I would want to do those tasks that will leave me better off.  Thought the consequences are more apparent to me now than they might have been when I was younger, I still have moments when I want to kick my heels on the floor and flat out refuse to do whatever it is that I must get done.  I hate flossing my teeth when I really just want to fall face first into the pillow.  I detest writing that big check for the mortgage every month, even though someday I will be very grateful to own my house outright.  I never want to exercise, and eating right has never been my forte.  

The only difference now is that I'm finally doing them for me and not for the fact that it will please someone else when I do them.  I once only flossed because I dreaded the dentist's admonishment.  I only paid the bills because I dreaded the phone ringing with bill collector's threatening to garnish paychecks.  I exercise because I really do feel better.  While I don't eat well on any given day, I realize the only person who really suffers because of it is me.  At the end of the day, no one else cares whether I ate pita chips or potato chips, grapes or M&Ms.  The motivation for doing what is right continues to change from external to internal as I grow.  

I only thought about this today because I was subbing second grade and I was thinking about how external motivation is for young elementary students.  It's all about recess, stickers and earning points.  Then, as they edge up in grade level, the rewards move from tangible to internal, until either they do it for the right reasons or they don't and suffer the consequences.  
I almost always did the next right thing, but not always for the right reasons. I learned early on that good behavior and hard work delighted adults, and I craved their approval.  I wanted that gold star on my paper, but even more I wanted to stand out to my teachers.  Teachers were equivalent to gods in my world, and their praise meant more to me than any sticker or red A+.  Sometimes I wanted to be as naughty as the next kid, but more than that I wanted my teachers' good graces.  I wanted to have the sample A paper.  I wanted to do it right the first time.  I wanted to hear praise for good listening, good behavior and good citizenship.  

Like any kid, I wanted attention, but not just any attention.  I wanted positive attention, and I learned early out how to get it.  I remember studying altruism in my college ethics course, and considering whether or not people can take actions purely out of the concern for the welfare of others.  I remember being perplexed by the concept then, and I still am.  Though I still strive to do the next right thing, it's a little less selfish and a little more altruistic.  A piece of me still does it because it feels good, though.  I'm not sure anyone can do something completely selflessly, but then again, I haven't studied much about motivation and the forces that move us to do things.  I have studied intrinsic and extrinsic motivation and how that is used in education and the classroom.  

The beauty of childhood is, we get to assume that as soon as we grow up and move out on our own, we don't have to do anything we don't want to do anymore.  The harsh reality of adulthood is, there's a whole lot of activities that have to be done merely "for our own good".  I'm assuming that no matter how old (or, as I prefer to think of it, seasoned) I get, I will always have to do some tasks simply because it's for my own good, or for the good of another, and not because I actually want to do it.  The lesson is that it's okay not to want to do it, but to do it anyways.  Doing the next right thing doesn't mean doing what feels like the next right thing.  Rather, it means having the courage, the strength, the gumption, to do what needs to be and should be done.  

Not really a fun lesson to learn, but a necessary one.

Sometimes I Get Discouraged...

I realize that I've led a pretty tame and quiet life, but I am repeatedly blown away by the degree of knowledge that grade school kids have acquired.  I am not referring to the knowledge they are supposed to have - like the times tables and reading skills.  I'm talking about those topics that make my jaw drop when I hear them uttered out of the mouths of babes.  

I'm not a prude, and I've heard (most) of it all before.  It's just disarming to me that these kids are so steeped in such matters.  Sometimes it makes me mad, because they are just trying to get a rise out of me by saying such things.  Sometimes I feel a little sad that what should be a period of innocence is already gone.  And then there are those times when I have to hide my smile and wait to laugh until I can tell Kyle about it later.  

This is the crux of why I've struggled to enjoy teaching.  I suppose I had the mental image of my idol Laura Ingalls teaching in her cozy one room schoolhouse.  I saw children bent purposely over books, studying quietly and know that misbehaving in the classroom was not even an option, and that their parents would punish them severely if they did misbehave.  

I did not envision the realities - nonexistent parents, students who haven't eaten in days, students in dirty clothes, students with one set of clothes, students with no homework, students in high school who can't read, students whose sole purposes are to drive their teachers to madness.  I didn't imagine the students who would call me every name in the book, students who were backed up by parents who imagined I must have "instigated" something if their dear Johnny or Jane had been provoked to engage in poor behavior.  I didn't consider the administrators who might instruct me to "find a way" to pass that student who had been missing from class since the second day of the semester. 

I get very discouraged, not only when working in education, but also when so many of my unrealistic and high expectations are not met.  I seem to have pretty high standards that few people can or do measure up to.  Then I get disgruntled, my depression grows and everything else goes downhill.  I have to figure out how to better establish expectations so that they are still high but not so high that I'm bound to be disappointed.  It's not fair to others and it's not fair to myself.  


I try to remember that this is a different generation, that kids are who they are, and not to be too hard on them.  At the same time, I worry for them (and for us, who will be led, fed and put to bed by them someday!).  Where should the lines be drawn? 

It Can Always, Always Get Worse...

I was complaining to someone yesterday about how crummy my day had been and she said to me, "Well, at least it can't get much worse."  No, I countered.  It can always get worse.  I remind myself quite often that it can always be worse.  That helps me gain perspective and to remember what is really important.  Yesterday, for example, I was grumpy that my house was in chaos and everything is upside down, but at least I have a house.  At least I have a comfy bed to put my weary body and mind to sleep in.  I have a loving and warm husband to snuggle up with.  What if something happened to him?  That prospect helps me remember that I am really pretty fortunate.

That doesn't mean that I don't grump and complain and gripe my fair share.  Kyle and I were both in need of a little down time tonight, so we decided to go to dinner before we went to our nieces' choir concert.  As we sat waiting on the red light we were both jolted by the impact of someone running into us.  It scared the daylights out of me.  Kyle and I pulled over around the corner to inspect the damage, which was fortunately minimal.  The person that hit us did not feel the need to stop and check on our welfare or the welfare of the Escape.  Unfortunately I was unable to get their license plate number.  Though the damage was next to nothing - a few scrapes and mars on the bumper - our evening was marred more by just one more thing to go wrong.  See - it can always get worse.  It can keep on piling up!

But again, we're well, the car is fine, and we are home safe and sound together tonight.  And so life goes on and we wait to see what tomorrow holds - perhaps a little bit of weight will be lifted off, but perhaps we will encounter another life challenge.  Either way, we'll make it through.

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day...

I stole that title from one of my favorite childhood books by Judith Viorst.  Yesterday was just one of those days that hit me and knocked me flat.  Kyle had taken a lot of time off work this week to be here when the contractors were working, so I took a turn and stayed home instead so he could get work done.  This meant I turned down sub jobs so I could be here.  I awoke bright and early to greet the contractors and while I waited I looked at our impossible budget and began paying bills.  And I waited...and waited...and waited.  By ten thirty no one had shown up and I finally called the company.  Turned out it was a day when they were waiting on supplies and were not scheduled to come out.  I was very frustrated at this point and told the polite woman at the company that we needed better communication in regards to this job.  Little communication has taken place.  No contract has been produced.  It's all very chaotic. 

As I grew steamier and steamier awaiting the no-shows, I also encountered an issue with a medical bill from months ago and spent thirty minutes on hold with the company only to talk to THE rudest customer service person.  They denied everything that another rep had promised on the 13th of September when I called in regards to the same matter.  This issue greatly affected my budget for the month and I grew more frustrated.  Taking a year off of work to give myself some mental healing has put us in a very tight financial position. 

Surprisingly, I simply burst into tears.  I am not a big crier, but sometimes when I am overwhelmed and incensed, the tears surface.  I was terribly frustrated.  And I was terribly grumpy. My head felt as cluttered as my house is.  The contents of our entire basement are crammed in the kitchen, living area and garage.  I can't stand the chaos of it all. 

When I get in one of my grumpy moods, it seems that every little incident adds fuel to the fire.  A situation that would normally just irk me or even make me laugh cuts me to the core and I feel enraged. Perhaps I have an anger management problem.  I certainly don't express anger very well.  I needed postcard stamps, and I took a shot in the dark and asked the checker at Kroger if they have postcard stamps.  He did not understand that there is a difference between "postcard" and "postage" stamps.  I told him I needed the less expensive postcard stamps.  He says, "Is there a difference?"  "Yes," I informed him.  He simply shrugged his shoulders and said "I have no idea."  He didn't turn to the person next to him and ask, nor did he pick up the phone and ask a manager.   He just looked at me as if I were the nutty one.  So much for customer service. 

None of these incidences in and of themselves is any sort of real crisis or problem, but added together and on top of life stresses that Kyle and I have encountered lately, they really overwhelmed me. Sometimes a good cry is all I really need, but sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that I am really so fortunate.  I try to look at the flip side of each situation.  For example, at least I have home owner's insurance that is making the basement repair possible.  We couldn't have done this repair on our own.  At least the issues with the bill are resolved.  I finally paid it in full to just be done with it, and even though it meant cutting other important bills, it is completely taken care of now.  And that inexperienced young checker who annoyed me - well, it's simply a test of my patience and understanding.  

It is not easy to turn negative situations around and look at the positive, but it sure helps.  It also helps to pick up my tattered copy of Viorsts' book and give myself a mini-vacation.  And remember, it could always, always get worse, so just be glad it isn't.