The Price of Love

February 5th will always be a bittersweet day for me. This year only added to it. 

Three years ago, I left my second home and a large chunk of my heart as I completed my LDS mission to Louisiana. While it was good to see my family again, my heart ached as I left what felt like my very identity behind, along with a host of family and friends. I tried not to show it, but I grieved that day for the loss of my old life - a life that lasted an eternity fit into a year and a half. 

Today we laid to rest our dear friends’ two year old daughter. Her death was sudden and unexpected, and left everyone shaken by the event. Although she passed a week and a half ago, I still wake up to check on Evelyn (who is 8 months, holy cow!) a few times a night. I have to reassure myself that she is still breathing. Emma was pure, perfect, and too good for this world. While I have a testimony that this life is not the end, her death has left me grappling with questions, fears, and grief. Today I grieve not only for sweet Emma, but for the life her parents will have to adjust to. 

Sometimes I wish that I could just forget or lock my heart up to stop the unimaginable pain of grief. To me, loss is the hardest thing I have to deal with in this life. I wish I could just fast forward through the pain and move on to the healing, or sleep through it all and wake up okay. It hurts too much. The pain is too real. It surrounds and overwhelms me to the point where I feel like I can’t continue living a normal life. How could I possibly be happy when I’ve lost someone I love? And then I feel guilty - I shouldn’t be this emotional, I know what’s going to happen, I don’t deserve to grieve this much. I tell myself to get over it.

I’ve recently been trying to understand grief. Why we have to deal with this horrible emotion that I wish I could avoid at all costs. I’ve come to the conclusion that grief and everything that comes with it is the price we pay for love. Love is the most amazing gift in the world. It makes everything around it better. The world could be going to pot, but through love we can face any storm, any difficulty that comes our way. It is the single greatest gift that God has given to man.

If we believe that everything has an equal and opposite reaction, it would only make sense that we feel so strongly when someone or something important leaves us. No one would be willing to sacrifice that much up front. The price for love comes after, but then bill does come due. With our experiences as a buffer, we can weather the storm. To grieve means to love. It means you cared enough to give a piece of yourself to the thing that you’ve lost. If we were to forgo grief, would we have truly loved?

Each person loves and grieves in their own way. Let them grieve. Hold your family, friends, and the parts of your life that make it worth living close. Embrace your grief, allow yourself to feel it. After all, the saying goes that "it’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all."

I love each of you. You’re my world and I’m so grateful for the experiences we’ve shared. I’m grateful for the chance I’ve had to love you and the love I’ve received in return. 

xo Cass

It's Not Okay and That's Okay

When the Lord arrived at Mary and Martha's home in Bethany, He must have had some idea what was about to transpire. This would be the place of one of his most magnificent miracles - perhaps only second to the Atonement and Resurrection. He had tarried, not coming immediately to Lazarus' bedside, no doubt following the Spirit and preparing for what would become a historic moment. 

Image retrieved from lds.org

Mary and Martha, however, did not know. All they knew in that moment was that the Savior could have saved their brother, but was too late. Christ didn't come until the fourth day, which in Jewish tradition, is after the spirit had fully left the body. Lazarus was dead.

When Christ arrived, He was greeted by Martha, who, while grieving, reaffirmed her faith in Him but still expressed her heartbreak that He could have not come earlier. Mary voiced similar thoughts. Lazarus was a dear friend to the Savior, as were Mary and Martha. He loved them. And so, although He knew what would shortly come to pass, Jesus wept. He wept with Mary and Martha, not only seeing their grief but also I expect keenly feeling His love for Lazarus. Those who saw were seemingly surprised to see Jesus weep. They exclaimed, "behold, how He loved him!' (John 11:36).

The rest of the story goes on from there. We know that Christ brought Lazarus back from the dead, and that Mary and Martha's joy immediately eclipsed the grief they had felt. This story has a happy ending, and a rather immediate one at that. But that's not why this story sticks out to me.

I believe that this story teaches us an important truth: that it's okay to not be okay.

Image retrieved from lds.org

This church focuses so much on happiness that sometimes I think we get a little carried away. We think (and tell other people, on occasion) "if you keep your covenants you will be happy!" As if we should live our lives in eternal bliss, never feeling any discontent or sadness. It leaves those of us who struggle with illness (mental or physical), disappointment, financial hardship, or other things beyond our control wondering why everyone else has this eternal bliss while we are left grasping at straws, only staying alive one day at a time. We think that whenever we are struggling with something - anything - that we need to chin up and face the world just as blissfully as everyone else seems to. We feel compelled to wear a mask. We feel like we have to say that everything's okay or that everything will be okay or that everything happens for a reason. 

Sometimes that reason is that life sucks. 

I think that in our quest of eternal bliss, we tend to forget the sanctifying power of grief. Grief and sadness have the power to be sacred experiences, although not in the way we'd prefer. Those moments when someone is hurting too badly to move shouldn't be glossed over. We shouldn't feel guilty for being sad, for missing loved ones or relationships or previous life experiences. Grief is the price we pay for love. Without that, our love would seem cheap and meaningless. It would have no worth if we could lose something or some experience that meant a great deal to us and be able to move on with no problems and be blissfully happy.

The point I guess that I'm trying to make when we struggle, it's okay for things to not be okay. It's okay to take the time, however long we need, to be sad. The Savior doesn't expect us to just move on. In fact, while we know He is the Master Healer and can solve any of our problems, Christ wants us to know that sometimes He is just there to hold us and grieve with us. He's not pressuring us to square our shoulders and be happy all the time. While the promises of eternal life teach us that eventually things will be okay, He understands that sometimes, that's not right now. Sometimes, that's not in this life. He does not dismiss our sadness and grief. Instead, He sits next to us, mourning with us, feeling our hurt and listening to our cries. He doesn't try to make it better, not yet. And although He knows that He can heal our hearts, He waits until we are ready to be healed. In the meantime, He is content to stay with us through our pain. 

"Surrender" by Mark Mabry

"And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people...and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities." (Alma 7:11-12).

In time, those moments of darkness become some of the most sacred experiences. For me, it is those times that I really came to know my Savior. I came to trust in His promise that He would not leave me comfortless. I came to rely on His always listening ear. And although I would never, ever, choose to go back to those dark times, it is through them that I can be who I am today.

Disease

I'm hurting right now. I knew him. And yet I didn't.

I know I'm not hurting as much as those who were directly involved in his life. His wife, his daughter, his family. In fact, his death won't directly affect my life in any way. He was an acquaintance, one I never spoke to after he left Louisiana, and one I barely spoke to while we were both there.

I'm not hurting because someone dear to me was taken from me. I"m hurting because I know where his thoughts were.

I know I write about morbid topics. For me, as I've said previously, this blog isn't for anyone but me. I don't offer advice or ways to fix things because that's not why I'm doing this. I write because I need to move things from my brain somewhere safer. I write because my internal dialogue needs to become an external monologue for me to process and move past my own emotions.

I deal with suicidal thoughts on a near-daily basis, even while on medication. It's something that's always in the back of my mind. I've done the research - I know what I would have to do in order to end my life as painlessly as possible. Sometimes, those dark thoughts consume me even while I'm pretending to be fine. I think most people who suffer with these kinds of thoughts are similar, though I don't know.

For me, what has saved me has been other people I love, even if they didn't know it. Little texts. Responding to my one last cry for help, framed in a "how are you?" question. My sweet daughter who still literally depends on me exclusively for another 45 days. My husband, who anytime I imagine the look on his face after I had lost the battle with my disease, convinces me to press on one more day. It doesn't change the thoughts. Sometimes, it just feels like it pushes off the inevitable. I'm just hoping that I can push it off so long that instead of losing to this disease, I end up losing the battle to old age.

This isn't the case for everyone, though. Depression is one of the worst diseases known to man, and sometimes even those people you love can't penetrate the darkness long enough to make living worth it. To go from day to day, feeling like a burden on the world is an exhausting way to live. To constantly feel like your life has no worth or purpose, even if others outside of your hurricane can see how much you are worth to them. For some people, knowing that others love and care for them is enough to delay the inevitable. For others, it just makes them feel worse.

I've been one swallow away from the end three separate times. So I don't grieve because I lost a dear friend. I grieve because I know how much pain you have to be in to get to that point. I grieve for anyone who has to go there, whether their lives are taken by the disease or not.

I don't have any advice. No happy ending, packaged in a nice little bow. This world loses good men and women every single day because they don't believe they're good enough to be alive. My heart hurts for every one of them, but today those people are represented by one I know.

He will be missed.

On Depression

CONTENT WARNING: discusses depression, self-harm, and suicide.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, please reach out to me or call 1-800-273-8255 (National Suicide Prevention Hotline), or visit their website http://chat.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/. 
 

Once again, this post is more for me than for anyone else. I just felt like I needed to get my thoughts down because they float around my head all day and all night.
In addition, this is stuff I have never discussed with anyone, except my husband. But I feel like maybe, if I share what I've been through, that someone out there may feel like they're not alone in the world.

This is me, today. Well, yesterday, as I'm writing this.

I feel like I have experienced every dark corner of depression. I know I haven't, but the symptoms are as varied as each of those struggling are, and I feel like throughout my life I've kind of run the gamut. Every different kind of depression is a fresh version of hell for anyone who is struggling with it.

I remember the first time I self harmed. I was in seventh grade, and was experiencing my first round of horrific bullying. I felt incredibly alone. Worthless. Ugly. Socially inept. I hated myself with every fiber of my being and just felt the need to punish myself for existing. I was always too nervous to cut much, because the last thing I wanted to do was to talk about what I was feeling. In addition, the one time I showed a friend I had a the time, she openly laughed at me and called my attempts pathetic, rolling her own sleeve up and showing how a "proper" cutter did things. Great, I thought. I can't even cut the way I'm supposed to. I shut my mouth after that, and even if I didn't openly cut again for a few years, I fantasized often about it.

This is when I crashed and burned

That same year was my first (rather poor) attempt to take my own life. I'm grateful I didn't know what it took to die, because if I had I probably would have gone through with it. I didn't even end up seriously harming myself, but the intent was there. I remember after losing my temper at one of my bullies I yelled at her that I had tried to kill myself the day before. I got sent to the school counselor's office, who seemed very uncomfortable and I managed to talk him out of calling my parents. That was the only time my depression was ever discussed or noticed by any person who may have been able to help.

Although my self-harm and suicide attempts waned off after that point for a time, I spent the majority of my teenage years in the trenches of depression. I would frequently get in trouble for not doing my homework, because I had no motivation. I often seemed like a happy, cheerful person, when in reality I was miserable. I got really good at putting on a mask. Everything around me told me I had no right to feel the way I felt - I came from a wonderful family, I was good at school when I wanted to be. I grew up with the religious culture around me telling me that I would be happy if I followed God's commandments, and yet nothing I did ever brought me to a truly "happy" state. I felt like a failure and a liar, because I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone what was going on. I always was the one answering the questions in Sunday School and seminary, I served as a youth leader throughout my teenage years, and by any outside eye, my testimony was rock solid.

My demons never went away. My coping mechanisms have varied from the aforementioned self harm (I've been clean for over a year now, I'm really proud), not eating, overeating, lethargy, being overbusy, and crying myself to sleep. The demons always told me I wasn't good enough. I always believe them. We are well acquainted with each other. I have seriously attempted to take my own life two more times, and if I were to get to that point again, I know how I would finish myself off. I don't have access to the guns in our homes because my husband is scared of what I'll do if I did.

Lately, the demons have been working on me through exhaustion. Most days, I lay around the house with little to no motivation. Sure, I get everything I absolutely have to done, but I feel exhausted and lazy and guilty every single day. Some days are better than others, true. Sometimes I can keep myself so busy that the emptiness doesn't hit me until my husband is snoring next to me in the middle of the night. Depression has a lot of faces.

I've been through a lot of ups and downs with my depression. Lately, although I've been clean from self-harm, I've had continual thoughts and wishes to not exist. I know that I don't really want this, because of the guilt that comes after it. I don't really want to not exist because I'm having a baby, I have an amazing husband and family that would be devastated if I stopped existing. I know I'm loved! And I have a lot of people I love in return. But none of those reasons to stick around are actually about me.

I've tried a lot of things to help myself. With the encouragement of some close friends, I sought out a psychiatrist and am now taking medication to help balance my brain chemicals. It's a start. I've also noticed that I am happier when I advocate for others, which is probably why I'm disclosing this much in the first place. It's also why I'm going to be a social worker.

Where is this going? You might be asking. Don't worry, I'm asking myself that too. I'm assuming this is going in the direction of a "you can do it!" post. I don't know though. I know that medication and therapy have helped me, but they definitely haven't "cured" me of anything. I honestly don't think I will ever be happy and whole, even if I want to be. I will never be normal, no matter how hard I try.

Add two cats to this picture and you've got my happy family!

I guess where I'm going with this is that even though I know I probably will never be normal, I still definitely have happy moments. I've learned to cling to them like lifelines! I hold onto the moments when my baby girl kicks, or when I can turn over and see my sweetheart sleeping peacefully. There are times I laugh myself to tears. I am sooooo close to finishing my bachelors degree and I feel incredibly blessed to be going into a profession where I can help people. None of these things makes my depression go away, and honestly, when I'm in the middle of a bad time, they don't even make it any better. What these good things do is make the in-between times worth living.

Yes, it's a Doctor Who quote. No, I don't care.

I had a friend tell me once that she got through her hard times by finding something to look forward to every week. It could be something as little as making to the weekend when you can sleep in. For me, what's kept me going this last little while has been my baby's doctor's appointments. Knowing I get to see and hear my little one every month has motivated me to make it from one appointment to the next. In the past, it's been something as small as promising myself ice cream for surviving through the day's tasks (I'm a firm believer in bribery).

What I guess I'm trying to say is hold on just a little bit longer. It may not be okay, honestly. It may not get better. You may only be going from day to day because, like me, you feel like you have an obligation to for those you care about. But just know that you're not alone in your battle. You are strong, brave, and facing more than most people could ever imagine, because your demons are inside you. They are with you constantly, and anytime you let your guard down they crowd into your head telling you what you already know to be true. If you can survive from one day to the next fighting this kind of ongoing battle, you are a hero. You are a survivor. You are stronger than many, many people in this world.

Most importantly, you don't fight alone. It feels that way, I know. No one can be in your mind with you, but you have friends, family, and strangers cheering you on with every fiber of their being. I'm cheering you on, whoever you are. Just make it one more day. Find one more moment to hold on to. I have to believe that someday it will be a little better than today.

Living Above the Demons

 So, yeah. Anxiety.

 

Retrieved from Huffington Post

Everyone's felt it, at some point or another. Normal people feel the butterflies in their stomach, or a clenching feeling when something they're nervous about comes around. At least, I think they do. 

Then there's those of us who feel the panic attacks and think we are dying. Literally, I've thought I was having a heart attack before. I deal with anxiety on a daily basis, thankfully not as severely as my depression. And I know a lot of people have it a lot worse off than me.

We got March's Ensign (for the nonexistent audience, this is a monthly LDS church magazine that covers a variety of uplifting and inspiring topics), in the mail today. I was pretty pumped to see that there was an article on anxiety and anxiety disorders! I've been happy to see that the church has been paying more attention to those of us who struggle with mental illness. It's been encouraging to say the least.

I will post a link to the article after it becomes electronically available (it's in the March Ensign, and we are still in February). For those of you who aren't LDS, there may be a few scriptures you're not familiar with, but the concept is pretty well defined.
 

While I think it was a good start, I thought there were a few things missing. It felt like it was written by someone who had learned about anxiety disorders but never struggled with it themselves. I wanted to add some thoughts from someone who is finally doing a little better at managing her own anxiety.

PC NewBridge Recovery

Something, first and foremost, I have learned is that a lot of times depression and anxiety go hand in hand. Not only do we have to deal with crippling and damaging self talk, we have to deal with it while we are in the middle of panic attacks while not sleeping. It's a chemical cocktail as dangerous as anything the government can cook up.

So here's some thoughts.

1. I have finally come to understand that my anxiety and mental illness is NOT MY FAULT. As I was reading the article, there is a part that talks about how anxiety (and depression, of course) can make it more difficult to feel the Spirit (or the voice of God, or the Force, whatever you prefer). Immediately I felt that little voice in my head telling me that it must mean I'm sinning or less worthy, or somehow inferior to other people. None of these things are healthy for anyone to think, but especially those of us who take the bad thoughts and make them worse. This voice comes often. I'm working on kicking it out. Why? Because these thoughts AREN'T TRUE. Is having a hearing problem from birth someone's fault? Does it make someone less worthy? NO! Just as if someone who is hard of hearing can use supplementary equipment to help them do better, we may need to get some additional help to be sensitive to the small, quiet voices in our lives that tell us that we're doing okay. 

2. One thing I really liked about the article was that they suggested not telling people who are struggling with anxiety to "calm down," "don't worry," or "you're being irrational." Holy cow, have I been told to calm down or not worry more times than I can count, and I can tell you that this pisses me off. Just a helpful hint to those who are in a helping position - just don't say that. Just stop.

 

Retrieved from Pinterest

3. I think the most important thing, and this will be my last point for right now because I'm pregnant and scatterbrained, is that some of us will fight our demons our entire lives. Just because we are on medication or in therapy or are master meditators doesn't mean that we may ever completely own our own minds. All we can do is our best, and we can't even do that all the time. We can learn (slowly) to love and be patient with ourselves as we fight our battles. We can celebrate our victories, however small. And we can be there for each other no matter how hard it gets. Often, the best people to help are those who are going through their own battles.

So keep on fighting, friends. Someday, we'll make it through.

 

PC Marvel

Ollo

Hello to the sum total of 2 people who might read this blog! Allow me to explain myself.

This is me, most of the time:

My poor husband knows this, as well as most people I come in contact with. I'm not very quiet when it comes to things that matter to me.

This blog is more for me, to get my thoughts down. I have noticed that writing helps me understand myself better, even if no one reads it. However, I think sometimes what I have to say is valuable. I want my entire life to be devoted to helping people, so I figure if something I say while trying to get my thoughts together can help someone else, I may as well share it. 

Because ultimately, this is me as well:

Love y'all!