After what I realize was many years of worsening depression, I finally spoke to my doctor about my symptoms a year ago. I look back at how bad I felt and am so relieved I chose to get help; however, I have a problem.
I am often confronted with questions. "What do you have to be sad about?" and "Why are you depressed?" I try to be patient and explain it, but have more recently replied with "mental illness runs in my family, I guess it got me too!" That generally shuts people up, but it closes off some much needed influence I could provide.
I am very content in my life. I have a great family and we enjoy a middle class lifestyle. I am an avid book reader and home school 3 of my 4 children. I of course will cry if I am unmedicated, but not from sadness. Depression symptoms are sometimes hard to spot, my most apparent was extreme exhaustion. I fought many years trying to pull myself up by the boot straps, struggled through college, exercise required a nap (never the energy boost promised), etc. The symptoms of depression feel hopeless. I am not "sad."
I am an optimist. I have always been able to endure hard times while holding onto glimmers of hope. Even in the throws of the more difficult situations, I have the ability to be content and happy. As an optimist, I had a very difficult time "giving in" and seeking medical help. I kept telling myself it was environmental or socially driven and would naturally be alleviated at a future date. That date never came. I now realize it is chemical. My brain isn't working as it should and I have no guilt for needing medication.
My hope is that more people will let go of the "sad" idea and learn the truth. Just as each person is a unique individual, depression is unique to each individual. Pulling yourself up by the bootstraps doesn't work and you don't have to keep doing it.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Atheist Homeschool
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My youngest petting a shark |
As a homeschooling parent, I find the juggling of interests the most difficult. My twins are 8 and complete opposites. My son, the one petting the shark, loves math, magnets, Minecraft, and earth science. The questions he asks can sometimes send me down an internet wormhole for hours and leave me feeling inadequate. His twin sister loves stories. She easily uses 20 pages of notebook paper per day writing stories, jingles, riddles, jokes, leaving clues for scavenger hunts, etc. She also loves all animals, even the creepy ones. I value their interests and encourage a desire to discover for themselves. I also home school their 14 y/o brother. He is a voracious reader and teaches himself his math and science. The way I encourage studies in other realms, is a good ole-fashion debate. I always pretend to know more about any subject than he will ever know. It may take a few days, but he will revisit our debates to prove me wrong.
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The twins doing Chemistry |
I am a "veteran" homeschooler (7 years collectively). As a family, we left moderately fundamentalist christian religion (7 years ago). Previous homeschooling included, I just choked a little, Creation "Science," bible study, and ready-made, expensive curriculum. Secular homeschooling is completely new to me. I have "mommed" for almost 17 years now and have taken a "just go with it" attitude with our home school. My goal is for my children to find their area of expertise. I do require they stay on grade level with math and English, but other subjects are scheduled weekly at the whims of current interest. My children laugh at my uncouth way of asking strangers to share with them; like the fisherman that caught the shark at the beach. Yes, they were mortified that their mom said "hey, can we touch it?" Yet, they all loved feeling its sandpaper skin and their research on Bonnet sharks (related to the hammerhead).
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Fun day at the co-op |
Raw Hide
I found that personification is my "thing" in my last semester of college. Be it my childhood and always trying to figure life out or some instinct from generations past, I have always wondered what the walls would say if they could talk. I surprisingly enjoyed poetry assignments and this poem never found itself erased from my drive.
Raw Hide
On an old 6-penny nail, in the dank closet,
Hanging motionless against the wall,
He hung awaiting his sentence.
His dreams now forgotten, he had only one job.
He remembered his hopes of shiny adornment,
Like those the cowboys wore,
But was willing to take on being,
The working-man’s support.
His neighbors enjoyed being picked over and chosen,
Gone to dinner or church.
But when the yelling began, the childish mistakes,
He began to sweat.
As the stomping grew louder, and on flew the light,
He’d have hung, head down, if only he could.
This time, that old 6-penny was yanked on one last,
It clanked to the floor.
Folded over just once and tight in the man’s grasp,
No one ever asked how he felt.
He was hoisted to the highest of reaches, then
Brought down so swift the air whistled through his notches.
He felt himself bite, heard the child’s quick yelp,
Followed by sobbing.
Oh! How he hated being used on a child’s
Back end.
Debates on discipline have reached an all-time high. Corporal punishment is as hot-button an issue as abortion and taxes. I simply think consistency is key. Whatever you do, do it consistently. For our family, spanking worked when they were little to stop them from immediate danger, but did little in the way of encouraging them to think. If used to teach boundaries, why wouldn't a map work? Have you ever thought how the belt felt? The spoon? Any other instrument for exacting your special brand of discipline?
On Parenting
I have seen some of the most absurd parenting brags on social media lately. 5 weeks old "potty training," debates on the validity of the cry-it-out method, and your typical "so proud of my kid/look what it can do" boast posts.
I have 4 children. A 16 y/o daughter, 14 y/o son, and boy/girl 8 y/o twins. In short I have dealt with my fair share of insanity. I used to have it all neatly packaged and knew exactly what to do. Then, as if some cosmic force slowed the earth's orbit, I had an awakening. What awakening you ask? My awakening was that indeed I was fucking up my kids, we all are!
Of course, I do have 2 hard and fast "rules." First, never live vicariously through my children and protect their autonomy (even from me their mother). Second, celebrate their individuality. That's it! Physical protection is in there somewhere, you know the "mom gauge" of the severity of this current adventure going awry (tree climbing, starting fires, etc.). So long as potential injuries won't require more than 6 weeks of healing, I let them be.
The judges, of whether we are fucking up or not, are our kids. BEWARE! No one knows your flaws, nerves, and hurts like the ones that spent 9 months inside of you. They will use this knowledge to their benefit at the exact onset of your weakest moments! No one means to raise an asshole, but I sure have met my fair share of them!
In short, cease immediately potty training the newborn (I think you are suffering a breakdown or have the rose colored mom goggles tinted to magenta honey), hold your kids or leave them in the crib, and for the sanity of us all stop boast posting every moment of your children's lives!
I have 4 children. A 16 y/o daughter, 14 y/o son, and boy/girl 8 y/o twins. In short I have dealt with my fair share of insanity. I used to have it all neatly packaged and knew exactly what to do. Then, as if some cosmic force slowed the earth's orbit, I had an awakening. What awakening you ask? My awakening was that indeed I was fucking up my kids, we all are!
Of course, I do have 2 hard and fast "rules." First, never live vicariously through my children and protect their autonomy (even from me their mother). Second, celebrate their individuality. That's it! Physical protection is in there somewhere, you know the "mom gauge" of the severity of this current adventure going awry (tree climbing, starting fires, etc.). So long as potential injuries won't require more than 6 weeks of healing, I let them be.
The judges, of whether we are fucking up or not, are our kids. BEWARE! No one knows your flaws, nerves, and hurts like the ones that spent 9 months inside of you. They will use this knowledge to their benefit at the exact onset of your weakest moments! No one means to raise an asshole, but I sure have met my fair share of them!
In short, cease immediately potty training the newborn (I think you are suffering a breakdown or have the rose colored mom goggles tinted to magenta honey), hold your kids or leave them in the crib, and for the sanity of us all stop boast posting every moment of your children's lives!
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