Grateful for Brighter Days

I was looking at Selah's cute feet today and marveling at how much I love her. I said aloud, "I love being a mom."

Miriam heard me and commented, "I thought you hated being a mom." It just about broke my heart.

But here's the thing: two months ago, I was saying things (sadly aloud) like "I hate being a mom." I was overwhelmed and sad. I was tired all the time. I was frequently angry and didn't do a very good job about hiding that from the kids.

Then I got help.

In the past few days, I've thought a lot about how drastically I've changed since seeing a doctor and being prescribed a new-to-me antidepressant and large doses of iron. I truly feel like a different person.

For one thing, I have much more energy than before. For another, I don't feel sad and angry everyday. I had heard many people recommend antidepressants for years, and in fact, I had tried one type multiple times before. But I had never noticed a change. And I was so steeped in my depression that when family advised me again just a few months ago to give meds another try, I honestly couldn't even picture how life could be better. I couldn't imagine reaching a happy place. Now I understand. The things that used to drive me crazy, don't anymore. And when I'm irritated, I am much more likely to react with a calm response instead of shouting or crying.

Additionally, it's very clear to me that my feeling better is having a positive effect on the girls as well. There are likely multiple factors at play (the girls' inevitable maturing being an important one) but even during my despair, I had noted that I was in a "downward spiral" with them. They would misbehave. I would get upset and likely "lose it;" they would get more upset. I would not want to be around them at bedtime because I was so tired of the struggle and fighting, and I felt like a horrible parent. So they would start their next day already feeling bad because they'd missed me the night before. Often I didn't want to be with them in the morning either. On and on.

Now it's the reverse. I stay calm when they act up, and even have hugs and encouragement to offer. They behave better. They give ME hugs and encouragement. That feeds the whole cycle, making me even more likely to be cuddly when I've received love myself. I spend time with them at night and in the morning without feeling like I'm going to lose my mind because now I have more energy and I haven't heard as much fighting during the day. So they feel cared for. On and on. It's truly remarkable.

I know I'm not getting everything right. I still have issues, still have some anger and anxiety. But to look back and remember how low I had gotten, makes this turn-around all the more precious. Grateful for medicine, grateful for family who doesn't give up, grateful for brighter days.

Stuff

 My life has been a strange one of continuous transience. I grew up moving a lot as my dad went from graduate degree to graduate degree. When I relocated to Nigeria as a 14-year-old, I was told I had a box I could fill with my stuff and that was it. And we owned no house in the U.S. in which to store stuff. Stuff. I held it loosely as a child, and I've held it loosely as an adult.

I've continued to move a lot as my husband has gone from graduate degree to graduate degree. I've moved overseas five times (self-funded) when I've had to pack our belongings into a few boxes or suitcases. The difference has been that my in-laws DO own a house, and it's big enough for them to have let us keep things there while we're abroad. 

Through this long process of Steve trying to earn his PhD, I always envisioned that he'd eventually be teaching at an American university and that we would have a home of our own at that point. I envisioned a place to put down roots, a driveway in which to shoot hoops, a basement in which to let teens play foozball and board games together, a spare room in which to do crafts with the girls, a yard in which to grow plants and play Kubb, a kitchen in which to use my good mixer and blender, and a dining room in which to have lots of company over and use my nice dishes. Anticipating all that, I admit: I did begin to accumulate STUFF.

I didn't guess that we'd be making another overseas move. 

So now my stuff stares me in the face, almost taunting me. 

"Ha ha! You thought you'd get to use these gathered art supplies to make projects with the girls?! Nope!" 

"Ha ha! You thought you'd actually have people over and get to use all your matching dishes and make a cake with your fancy mixer? Nope!"

"Ha ha! You thought you'd get to ride bikes and shoot hoops and jump on a trampoline in your yard? Nope!" 

Now begins the process of getting RID of most STUFF. I don't know how long we'll be abroad, or what will happen when we return. To be honest, I would like to hang on to a few valuable things -- yes, the expensive mixer, blender and sewing machine, maybe my prettiest jug -- but this is my chance to loosen my grip, to change my direction, to embrace a new way. A way of less stuff.

On the Edge of a Precipice

Twenty-one years ago, Steve and I started our marriage full of hope and expectation. We had no idea what would come, but we had dreams, some only whispered, others acted upon. The thing is, I never envisioned it would take this long for Steve to finally finish his education. I never thought we'd go for so many years without income or live in so many foreign countries as Steve pursued two Master's degrees and a doctorate.

But here we are. 

Despite Steve finishing his PhD in August 2020 and beginning a new job in November, he is out of work now and we are back in a holding pattern, unsure of our direction or next steps. He has his education, his knowledge, and his idea of what he wants to do for a career, namely teach college courses. Those jobs aren't knocking at our door, though. And I? I've had my hands more than full, trying to graduate my two oldest homeschoolers, teach my 8th grader, and teach/parent/corral my two preschoolers. But I feel like there is something more. Something missing that's a deep part of who I am.

We stand on the edge of a precipice. 

Will we spend another decade of our marriage waiting for "our real life" to begin? Will we have to do more stop-gap work? Will we struggle to find any work at all? Or are we on the cusp of something new and beautiful? Are the puzzle pieces about to start fitting together? Every week, Steve applies to more jobs, more post-doc programs. Many of them are in the U.S.; some are overseas. Only a couple have seemed like really good fits for him. Only one has felt like a good fit for me. 

I want to look over the edge of this cliff, to see what comes next.

But I'm afraid I'll fall.