Movin' on UP!

Hey guys and gals!  I've been researching and have decided it's time to move on up in the world.  Starting today, you can find me over at Tumblr (http://genadunn.tumblr.com/)  There are just way too many cool ways to connect and frankly, it's easier for me to post there!  I hope you'll change my info and keep following me over there!  See ya on the flip side.....

Today

Today I will...

Take a shower.

Ignore the phone.

Breathe deeply.

Make a to-do list to organize my thoughts.

Wait to do anything on the list until tomorrow.

Ask for help.

Pray.

Love my son.

Tell my husband how much I appreciate him.

Stay focused on breaking the cycle of intensity.

Be thankful.

Sip a cup of coffee.

Ease up on our family rules...and have a little fun.

Forgive others.

Forgive myself.

Just be.

Really?

So I realize that yesterday's post may have come as a surprise to some people, and that's ok.  Really, it's a lot to spill in one post.  A lot of details are missing, which I'm sure will be mentioned in future posts, but until then, let's not get picky about the details.  Some people may think less of me for it, some have been nothing but encouraging.  I pray for each one of you, and I thank God for you.

I was at a meeting last night at church, and in that meeting we talked about being negative and how it influences our lives, in every facet.  For me, I believe the purpose of it was trying to reveal how I should seek God, perhaps in prayer, in times of negativity, and to be truly thankful for every single thing causing that negative thought.  I tried putting it into a sentence, such as "Dear God, thank you for the gazillion blocks of Legos that are inevitably left for me to pick up, 4 piles of clean, unfolded laundry, the dinner that perhaps will perhaps not get on the table until 8pm, and the 2 piles of dirty dishes still left to be scrubbed, all to be taken care of before my husband gets home from work."  Putting that sentence into practice, I was able to realize how thankful I should be for having a healthy, happy child, who has blocks to play with.  I can be thankful for having the money to purchase clothes, and have a home that contains a washer and dryer to launder my clothes with.  I can be thankful for having food that provides proper nourishment for our family.  And the dirty dishes, well, I haven't really found a way to be thankful for them!!!

It was a fabulous study, and if you have the opportunity to put something like the above thought into practice, I promise you will be nothing but blessed!

What's up blogland!

I realize my last post was in March, and OMG have things changed since then!  Well, "things" per say haven't changed, but I sure have.

I'm going to reach out on a limb here, and put it all out on the table.  I've come to a point in my life that I can no longer lie to myself, my family and the rest of the world.  I have to accept who I am, faults and all.  This past summer, that meant admitting myself into a treatment center 6 hours away from my family for six full weeks, with very limited contact.  It sounds worse than it was, in fact, I think it was quite possibly the best thing that has happened to me, next to marrying my husband and becoming a mother.

For 20 years, I have struggled with depression and drinking.  I was put on medication for depression at an early age, and by the time I was in my early twenties, I had reached a place where I was a fully functioning person in society, having gotten the depression under control, but continued to drink heavily.  I married my absolutely wonderful, amazing, magnificent husband (trust me, to put up with me, he is almost a saint) when I was 25, and my drinking tapered off a bit.  Meaning, I was just drinking a little bit less.  We had a miscarriage in 2002 and at the same time discovered that we could not have children naturally.  I was devastated.

Instead of turning to God or to my family to for help dealing with my emotions, I turned to the bottle and started drinking heavily again.  None of this interfered with work.  I wasn't drinking during the day, only at night.  But my daily thoughts were consumed by how soon five o'clock would roll around.  I would start drinking when I got home, and wouldn't stop until I went to bed.  I would wake up the next morning, sometimes with a hangover, sometimes not, and proceed about my day, with work or what have you, acting as if it was nothing that I had a bottle (or two) of wine the night before.  By myself.  During all of this time, I was still taking the same medication.  Now some of you out there may be saying to yourselves "Doesn't she get it, her medication has no chance of working if she's drinking while taking it!"  And my answer to that is a big, fat NO.  I didn't get it.  The label would appear on the side of my bottle of pills, but of course, I thought it didn't apply to me.  I am the exception, didn't you know that?!?

In 2007 we had the chance to have a child via in vitro fertilization (that's another post), and we were blessed to have it work on the first round.  I am level headed enough to know not to drink during pregnancy, and I had no problem restraining myself.  I was entirely too excited about the child growing inside me to even think about picking up a drink.  During my first trimester, my OB recommended stopping my medication so it wouldn't pass on to my son.  Instead of checking with a licensed psychiatrist first, I simply stopped taking my medication cold turkey.  Biggest.  Mistake.  Ever.  I had very little problems with my mood swings during the rest of the pregnancy, I mean, ALL pregnant women are hormonal and moody, c'mon!  By the time our son was born in November, I was a shaky, wound up ball of anxiety and gloom, pretending that everything was all right on the outside.  My line of thinking was...I had my dream of having a child realized, I had no reason to be anything but greatful and happy, which made me even more mad at myself, and just kept spiraling me downward.  By the time my son was two months old, I realized that something serious was wrong with me.  I called my doctor and distinctly remember telling her, "I don't want to be a mother you see on tv", meaning I didn't want to be a mother who harmed her newborn.  She immediately sent me to see someone that night, and I was set up seeing a therapist and a psychologist twice a week.  We tested what I believe to be every single medication known to mankind before we came up with a combination that seemed to work well for me.    I was also delivered a hard knock during this time, I had to stop breast feeding because of the medication.  My goal was to breast feed for 8 months or so.  I was very upset by having to stop abruptly, but I also wanted my son to have a sane mother.  One of the first things I did once I gave up breast feeding was pick up a glass of wine.

After a few months on a good combination of meds and getting settled into our new family life, things were going ok.  Not great, but not terribly awful either.  Again, you're yelling out "MEDS +ALCHOL=PARTY FOUL!"  Yeah, I still didn't get it.  In 2009 my husband got a job in North Carolina.  We packed up our things and said so long to the cold Chicago winters!!  I was excited for the move.  It meant a change of scenery, being closer to my family (South Carolina) and a time when I hoped I could finally learn what it meant to be me.  What I didn't see coming was how hard it was going to be making friends, and the nights spent alone at home with the bottle.  My drinking got much heavier after moving to NC.  I did make friends, and we drank together, and when I was at home, I would drink.  There was always an excuse to have a drink!  One of my main struggles was trying to hide my drinking.  My husband is a Youth Pastor, and it doesn't look really good if your wife is a mentally unstable alcoholic.  Don't lie.  You know that's the truth! I cared entirely too much what other people thought of me and kept trying to be one person at night and around my friends, and be a completely different person during the day and while I was at work.  I was getting so very tired of keeping up this game of charades!  It's exhausting!!

It all finally came to a head one weekend while my husband was out of town for a conference and I found myself drinking, at home, alone, at two o'clock in the afternoon, while I'm supposed to be tending to my child.  Something is VERY wrong with that picture folks.  If you don't think so, you might want to check yo' self!  I admitted to myself that I had a problem drinking.  I looked up the term "functioning alcoholic" and it described me perfectly:

A High-functioning alcoholic (HFA) is a form of alcoholism where the alcoholic is able to maintain their outside life such as jobs, academics, relationships etc. all while drinking alcoholically.^[1] Many HFAs are not viewed by society as alcoholics because they do not fit the common alcoholic stereotype. Unlike the stereotypical alcoholic, HFA's have either succeeded or over-achieved through their lifetimes. This can lead to denial of alcoholism through both the HFA, co-workers, family members and friends. Functional alcoholics account for 19.5 percent of total U.S. alcoholics, with 50 percent being smokers and one-third having a multigenerational family history of alcoholism.^[2]

Oh.my.goodness.  Houston?  We have a problem!!  I contacted my husband and told him I had a problem.  That was on Sunday.  The following Saturday I was admitted to a treatment facility on the other side of the state.  Like I said, it was the best decision I ever made.

I hope you'll come back to hear more about all the wonderful changes God has made in my life.

I am so grateful for strong women who speak their mind boldly about experiences and beliefs that are bigger than they are. 

One such woman is Melanie from Big Mama. 

I've been a fan of Melanie's for a few years, and she always has the funniest way about her, and she can spot a bargain a mile away.  However, in her most recent post (and a surprising one at that) she delves into the realm of Christian vs. Christian and what that means to her. 

I would do her a great injustice if I tried to sum up her thoughts, so I'll just let her do the talking....

LOVE NEVER FAILS!

After reading the above said post, I have to agree with Melanie wholeheartedly.  In a world where injustice roams rampant and humanity as a whole suffers and toils to their own demise, one must realize that there are greater things to consume ones time and efforts with. 

I grow very tired hearing over, and over, and over again, who's right, who's wrong and who's doctrine we should be following. 

Our focus should be on Christ Jesus, our Saviour, our Redeemer.  Not which translation is the "right" translation, not whose worship facilities are bigger and badder than the others, not whose doctrine is more sanctified than the rest.  Give it up already! 

As Melanie says in her post:

I don’t believe any of us will get to heaven and receive a trophy or a plaque with “YOU WERE THE MOST RIGHT” engraved on it.

True dat sista, TRUE DAT!

Since the new year, I've been reading thought provoking literature like there is no tomorrow.  Well, at least what I consider to be thought provoking.  My latest in the long line of reads was One Thousand Gifts, by the very, very talented Ann Voskamp.  I've been a fan of her blog for a couple of years now, and when I found out she was releasing a book based upon the way she examines and experiences God's extraordinary grace in her everyday life, I had to have it.

A while back, I joined the bandwagon and linked up to Ann's site a few times, with my own lists of thanksgiving.  However, time constraints led me to end my journey of online thanks counting.  Ann's book came out at just the right time.  Over the past couple of months, I had been having an extremely hard time emotionally.  I had fallen blind to the blessings that God had so graciously placed in my life.  Call it a mid-life crisis, a melt down, label it however you like.  What I have been experiencing is a bone dry soul, longing for a sign that somehow, my life has been moving in the right direction.  Ann's book, along with much prayer and reading the Word, has helped me along this journey.  And what I've found, after much examination, is that I was naive to think that God would grant me a sign when I wanted it.  I have been acting immaturely in my faith walk, like a pouting, foot-stomping, screaming three year old, who doesn't get whatshewantswhenshewantsitthewayshewantsitNOW!  Ugh.  I have had enough of myself and my lame pity party.  Grow up and put your big girl panties on already, will ya?

Well, part of that growing up, involved learning how to give thanks in the here and now.  In the pain, in the beauty, in the Ugly Beautiful.  Ann's words gave me hope.  Hope that I can still exemplify God's grace and honor Him, by giving thanks, even when I'm not sure what to give thanks for.

I wouldn't say that the dry, winter season is over.  It's slowly being edged out by God's sure signs of spring, and the promise of the new life in Christ.  From this, I've learned to embrace the various seasons of my life, and to offer thanksgiving for the manna that Christ presents to me.

Enough of the heavy stuff...on to my review of Ann's book...

It's a fabulous read.  Her prose is absolutely breathtaking at times.  Sometimes the reading was slow going, as she tends to offer even the tiniest of details, and I could have done without some of them, but others may view it as necessary.

As grand as it was, there were a couple of points that had me saying "Say WHAT?!"

First, she states that not giving thanks could be viewed as a form of atheism.  SAY WHAT?  She says that when we don't trust in God, not offering thanks for even the ugliness in our lives, that we're basically saying that what he provides isn't good enough or that He doesn't exist.  That's a stretch for me.

*************************************SPOILER ALERT*******************************

The other thing that had me scratching my head was the entire last chapter.  Ann talks about making love to God.  And it doesn't stop there.  Her use of sexual tones and comparisons was just way over the top for me.  I'm not saying she is wrong in her thought(s), I simply cannot relate to her personal relationship with God.  You really have to read it yourself to make your own judgement, please don't simply rely on my review!

All in all, it was a great book and it lent a helping hand at a time I needed it most.  In fact, I'm about to start reading it for the second time.

Something that resonated within me yesterday....an email from a friend:

Is it true, kind, necessary?

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was a young mom with a preschooler and a new baby and another mother I’d met working at a small magazine called Welcome Home invited me to her house to watch her family in action. She was a Catholic woman, a few years older than me, whom I admired greatly. She had five children at the time. The oldest was 10 or 12. In my book, that made her a veteran. I had no idea what parenting a large family looked like from the inside and was grateful for the invitation.

What happened there that day has had a profound effect on the every-day conversations in our own home ever since. I still clearly remember the incident: Her eldest, a boy, said something to her third, a girl. She came running, crying, to protest. My friend called her son and began what was obviously a well-known routine.

“Was it true?”

“Well, yeah, sort of, it was.”

“Was it kind?”

“No,” he said, shuffling his feet and hanging his head. “Sorry, Sis,” he offered without prompting. And that was that.  

“The third filter is, ‘Was it necessary?’” my friend said. “But we rarely get that far. Every time one of these squabbles breaks out, every time one of them comes to me with a tale to tell, we filter it three ways: true, kind, necessary. It’s a simple way to teach them to communicate with grace.”

And so it is. For 18 years, I’ve taken that three-way filter as my own.

Is it true? This means we stop before passing along hearsay or gossip. It also means that we hold a grand story up to the exaggeration test. While I encourage flights of fancy and happy imaginings, it’s important for children to learn to distinguish truth from fantasy, opinion or supposition in their retelling or relaying of information. This is also the filter that says we won’t listen to gossip in our home, nor will we pass it along. Unless we know something to be absolutely true, it does not get by this filter.

Is it kind? In his classic, Spiritual Conferences, Father Frederick William Faber writes:

“Devout people are, as a class, the least kind of all classes. This is a scandalous thing to say; but the scandal of the fact is so much greater than the scandal of acknowledging it, that I will brave this for the sake of a greater good. Religious people are an unkindly lot.

“Poor human nature cannot do everything; and kindness is too often left uncultivated, because men do not sufficiently understand its value. Men may be charitable, yet not kind; merciful, yet not kind; self-denying, yet not kind. If they would add a little common kindness to their uncommon graces, they would convert 10 where they now only abate the prejudices of one. There is a sort of spiritual selfishness in devotion, which is rather to be regretted than condemned.

“I should not like to think it is unavoidable. Certainly its interfering with kindness is not unavoidable. It is only a little difficult, and calls for watchfulness. Kindness, as a grace, is certainly not sufficiently cultivated, while the self-gravitating, self-contemplating, self-inspecting parts of the spiritual life are cultivated too exclusively.”

In a family, self-gravitating, self-contemplating and self-inspecting cannot be allowed to crowd out simple kindness. Familiarity cannot be allowed to crowd out simple kindness. Home should be the place where a child or an adult can feel safe from the lack of compassion and bullying so common in the world outside. Home should provide the shelter of kindness.

Is it necessary? Does this need to be said? As our communications lurch forward at reckless speed and it becomes commonplace to tweet, share and blog every time we sneeze, children have to be intentionally taught the value of silence. Without quiet, we cannot hear. Without quiet, there is no white space; there are no boundaries. Does what I’m going to share contribute to the holiness and happiness of our community? In a big, busy family, quiet is a valuable thing.

It’s a simple three-fold filter: true, kind and necessary. The people who use it are happier, and the people who live with the people who use it are cradled in grace-filled communication.