What I Did On My Summer Vacation

It's summer. You know, the time of year that teachers look forward to with anticipation and a slight giddiness. I would love to be on a beach somewhere, or in the mountains, or exploring the French countryside...or even accomplishing some of my summer projects from "the list". I'd rather be doing anything other than fighting anxiety and depression accompanied by chronic pain. But for the past 5 years or so, that's how I spend my summer vacation.

It's out there now. For all to see.

I have decided to go public about something that most people would prefer to keep hidden--whether they're the one afflicted, or the one hearing about it. But you know--hiding just isn't working for me anymore. The pain aspect is somehow easier to put out there, though I don't like to. But start talking about depression and anxiety, and yikes. It doesn't help that I have one of those double whammy lifestyles. "You're the preacher's wife. You probably need to keep those things to yourself." "Whatever you do, when you step into that classroom, leave your personal issues at home." And I've done just that-- to the best of my ability. I have suppressed feelings, swallowed anger, and cried in the bathroom. But you know what? That still leaves June, July, and part of August--minus workshops, meetings, Sundays, Wednesdays, VBS, and assorted and numerous other church activities--to contend with. The void. I have approximately 45 days every year to drop the mask. Scattered days in June, July, and August to slow down and process. Add a healthy dose of severe chronic pain to the mix, and let the battle within begin. It never goes well.

I have tried medication. But the side effects range from inconvenient to alarming. I have tried to relax, but I am overcome with guilt. I have adjusted my diet, cut caffeine, added supplements, pushed my water intake, experimented with everything from gluten free to you name it. I have prayed more, watched television less, read books, and started my lifetime exercise program for the hundredth time. I have been to the doctor, who sent me to the neurologist, who sent me back to the doctor, who sent me to a rheumatologist, who sent me to another neurologist, who sent me to the gynecologist, who suggested I dabble in Eastern medicine for a while. Unfortunately, insurance is not keen on Eastern modalities. While I wouldn't object to trying something new...money is an issue.

I don't know if it's age, or circumstance, or weakness, or (I've been told) lack of faith. I'm not sure what age has to do with it, other than certain seasons of life are just more difficult. Circumstance is huge in this case. As much as I wish I could say otherwise, I've not healed or recovered from several years of being a caregiver. Maybe you never do. Weakness? When people tell you forever that you're strong, you feel obligated to be. Whether you are or not. Faith? You can tell someone all day long to have faith. But it doesn't work that way. Oh the countless platitudes.

When we went from the hell of RSD with Conner, to a complicated form of epilepsy with Caleigh, RIGHT into stage 4 cancer with Russell--there was no stopping to catch your breath. Our oncologist sent us to a psychologist, because he was worried about the stress level in our lives. When I think back on that day, it was just that. One day, at one appointment, after one question, I let a single tear fall in front of the oncologist. He made an appointment for us, and after a fifteen minute meeting the psychologist said we were fine. And maybe we were at the time.

 So many people did so many things for us during the worst of the storm--and I am eternally grateful for every single act of kindness. But there are things that no one can do. Things that no one can see. No one, and I'm sorry but I don't care who you are, no one can prepare you or adjust you to the new normal. You can call it self pity, you can call it a lack of faith--I've heard it all. I think, and feel free to disagree with me, but I think that families in ministry are sometimes held to a different standard. Is there a font for sarcasm? I'm human. I'm tired of internalizing. And yes, I internalize. I'm an outspoken introvert. Things that seem small have a way of being magnified these days.

As an example, one of the things that is just so painful for me at the moment is the whole ordeal with my driver's license. Most know, but just in case--during the craziest of crazy times for us, my DL expired and I never saw the reminder that they send in the mail or had ANY idea that it was expired. About a year ago, I was cashing a check and the teller noticed. I was mortified--thought I would have to pay a fine, but more than that I was just so angry with myself for letting that happen. I had no idea what renewal would require. I am still trying to get the paperwork together to go and take the written test as well as the driving test. If you haven't tried calling the DMV lately, you have no idea. Just trying to finalize some things today, I called the DL office in Floresville 93 times trying to get through. That kind of time during the school year is hard to come by. During this past school year we just decided to operate with two vehicles. One going to the prison every day, and one going to Runge. It worked for us. I have endured everything from good natured teasing, which I'm fine with, to all out ridicule that this happened. I do not enjoy feeling out of control of the simplest things in life, nor do I enjoy being ridiculed. Or being told that I'm an inconvenience to my family. In all honesty, part of my anxiety is directly related to the issues we have on the roads in our county. I have attended three heart breaking funerals. And I know what the Bible says about anxiety. I promise I do. 

I'm going to stop here. While I'm okay publicizing my own issues, I'm going to respect my family's right to some semblance of privacy. If that's even possible. I just felt like today was a good day to announce to the world that I'm a real person, with real emotions, and real struggles.