Disappointed

*The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints holds meetings every Sunday for a three-hour block. There are three meetings; Sacrament Meeting, Sunday School, and for women Relief Society.*

A few Sundays ago I was having what would be considered a good day for me. I felt up to going to church, which doesn't happen on a regular basis. I showered on Saturday night so I could sleep in on Sunday morning. I was able to get up, get ready and be to church on time. 

During Sacrament Meeting I had a little anxiety, but I was able to control it. Being able to get up and walk around the foyer helped a lot. It also helped that I was able to hold a friend's little boy. 

The next meeting I spent in the foyer holding the baby and working up the courage to go to Relief Society. 

Relief Society has been very difficult for me to attend since my depression and anxiety became all consuming. Even stepping into the room has been enough to throw me into a downward spiral of anxiety. I had been talking myself into going for two weeks.

I made a conscious decision to arrive to the Relief Society room early and sit on the back row right next to the door. Doing this I knew I would be able to see out the door and have the ability to walk out if needed. I wasn't planning on leaving though. I wanted to attend and listen to the prepared lesson. I had the perfect spot for me to sit...right next to the door, I had a baby in my arms and one of my best friends sitting next to me. 

The Relief Society president walked in and asked me if I wanted to say the prayer. I told her I could say the prayer and leave or not say the prayer and stay for the meeting. She choose someone else to say the prayer. 

The meeting started out nice. The door was open and I was semi-comfortable. Opening song was sung and prayer was said. The lesson was getting ready to begin. 

Then, coming from the hallway was the sound of men voices. And these men had voices that carried. Eyes were starting to turn to look at the door. One woman stood up and started to shut the door. I kept it open a couple inches so I could still see out the door. A couple minutes later another woman stood up and shut the door all the way. I snuck out because I couldn't do it. I couldn't be in that room without the door open. I needed my security of seeing. 

In tears I walked the church looking for my husband. I found him and pulled him out of his class. I burst into tears and told him I just wanted to go home. That I couldn't do it. I wanted to leave and never come back. He calmed me down somewhat and drove me home. 

As I sat on my bed crying I tried to figure out exactly what had upset me. Was I upset that I hadn't been able to attend all three meetings? Or, was I upset that the woman in my class, those who should support me, didn't even try to understand what I was feeling?

After some deep thinking I realized I was proud of myself for making it longer at church then I had in years. I had done well! I had succeeded in moving forward with that part of my life. For me it was a success.

I then realized that I was more upset that it seemed no one even wanted to take my feelings into consideration. Not one person came after me to see if I was OK. No one called to check on me. I felt, and continue to feel, that I'm just a small ant that no one truly cares about. I'm hurt. 

Yes, the noise coming from the hallway was louder than it could have been. But, leaving the door open just a couple of inches would have made it manageable for me. Am I being selfish with feeling this way? Should I not have become so upset over something that would have made class easier for me? Am I right to be feeling as though I don't matter? Is there a right way or wrong way for me to feel? That depends on who you are. However (and this has taken me years to understand), I have the right to feel how I feel, and NO ONE can tell me that it's wrong. 

Now, am I going to let the this event stop me from attending church. No. However, it will be some time before I'm comfortable even attempting to attend Relief Society again. I'll go to Sacrament Meeting and then sit in the hall waiting for the rest of the family to finish up their classes. Yes, I'm hurt. But, I go to church for me, not for others. I just have to remind myself that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is perfect, but the members of the church are not. 

So, as I go forward, I'll take what I can get and feel good about what I'm able to accomplish, not what I'm not able to do.

Depression and Pain

*Disclaimer: When I set out writing this blog my goal was to help others understand how a family could live with depression and anxiety. This has come more to be how I personally handle what life throws at me. This in no way deters from what my children and husband feel. But, it has come to be an outlet for me. If anyone would like to hear from another member of my family please let me know. For now though, I'll be the one posting.*

I love memes. Especially those that describe how I'm feeling as accurate as the one above. Having to deal not only with my depression and anxiety but I also have to deal with chronic pain. 

There are many who think I'm lazy and just don't want to be responsible. However, this is not true. Why would I want to spend hours and even days in pain? I would so much rather be an active part of my family and friends lives. 

The pain I have to live with, is at times, unbearable and difficult to explain. Depending on which part of my body is hurting the most I can be feeling anywhere from pressure to unmanageable burning and stinging. Regardless of where I hurt, many don't believe me. This hurts me. Truthfully, I fake being well so much more than I admit being in pain. 

One of the many struggles I have with my pain is the ability it has to worsen my depression. When my pain becomes so intense that I cannot force myself out of bed my depression becomes debilitating. 

Unable to be up and about makes me feel worthless. Then I begin to think that everyone would be better off without me. No one would have to take care of me, take off work or miss out on wanted activities because of my health. My loved ones wouldn't have to worry about what was going on with me at home while they are at work or school. There would be no more hospital/medical or prescription bills. They could use their money for things they want, instead of having to spend so much money on me for my health.

Now, I know this is inaccurate thinking, and I know where these thoughts come from, but worrying is something I struggle with (my grandmother was the "Queen" of worry). 

On Tuesday I had a discectomy on my L4/L5 disc and L5/S1 disc. I was in so much pain that I couldn't walk more than 10 steps without my hips and legs feeling like I had 1,000 pins pushed into them. This pain had kept me in my own world for weeks, making my depression deepen. I was ready to just give up, but knowing my family was around I knew I couldn't give in to that feeling.

My surgery worked wonderful. I no longer have the shooting, burning pain that I had. I can feel my feet. They aren't the shape of cantaloupes, they look like actual feet. Not being in excruciating pain 24 hours a day is wonderful. 

I'm so thankful for modern medicine and doctors who can perform surgery as less invasive as possible. I don't have a large scar on my back. I have a small incision the size of a fingernail. I was home 8 hours after leaving my home. I was up and walking the day of surgery. I was able to feel everything I needed to feel. It has been so nice. Not being in pain has helped immensely with my depression. I am more upbeat and happy than I was before. I am so thankful for that. 

When seeing someone who cannot get out of bed, or move with ease I beg of you to try and see the person, not the situation. You never know what someone is feeling. Don't judge. Don't guilt. 

Be understanding for, 

. Thanks for being understanding.