Daily Archives: April 2, 2014

Sending My Daughter on a Mormon Mission

I got married when I was twenty.  Twenty years old seemed so mature.  So wise.  So ready for independence.  So ready to start my own life and choose my own way.  It seemed that way when I was the one who was twenty.

But now my daughter is twenty.  And today we took her to the MTC (Missionary Training Center).  And today twenty seems so very young.

Today, as I watched her walking away, I saw a five-year old girl.  The little girl she was walking into kindergarten.  Head tucked a little.  Shy smile.  Eager.  Anxious.  Trusting.  Quietly walking away to start something new.  Something so important for her growth.

But that day she came home to me.  This time I won't see her again for eighteen months.

One day soon my son will go on a mission.  He will leave for two years, to serve wherever the Lord calls him.  I've been preparing for this his whole life.  I wasn't prepared for my daughter to leave.

In the Mormon church, we are taught that every worthy young man should serve a mission.  And every young man should spend his life working toward this goal, making himself ready.  Young women are able to serve a mission if they feel so directed, but it isn't pushed the same way for them.

And none of my daughters ever expressed any interest in serving a mission.  Until last November.  My second daughter came to me and my husband, crying, saying she needed to go on a mission.  It had not been in her plans either.  She never had any intention of going.  Until God asked her to.

And being the person she is, she said yes.

She is my most shy child.  She is my most anxious child.  My least independent child.  But when God asked her to serve, she said yes.

I admire her.  I am so proud of her.  But, even though we dropped her off only five hours ago, I miss her terribly already.

Her mission will be eighteen months (for young men it's two years).  In that eighteen months we will not see her.  We will only talk to her on the phone (or Skype) on Mother's Day and Christmas.  The rest of the time we will exchange letters the old fashioned way.  And she will get to email one day a week.

We are giving her up for a year and a half.  She is giving a year and a half of her life to leave her world behind and serve God exclusively.

She will teach others about the gospel and about God and Jesus Christ.  She will tell them that they are loved and valuable.  That they matter.  That there is so much more to life than what the world has to offer.  That there is so much more to each of us than just this life.  She will perform many acts and hours of service.  She will give and give and give.

And she will grow.  She will learn to believe in herself and in her ability to do hard things.  She will learn to reach out to God when things are difficult (partly because we won't be there for her).  She will learn to lose herself in service.  She will experience miracles.  She will learn and grow in ways I can't yet imagine.

Our family will grow, too.  We will be blessed through her service.  We will learn from her letters and her experiences.  We will grow in some ways just because she isn't here.

And, as a mother, I will learn a little more about God.  He gave His Son.  In a way I cannot ever understand, He offered His child for me.  And for you.  And for all mankind.  This experience will give me a glimpse.  As I offer my child to Him, I will gain a tiny bit of understanding.  Like when I became a mother and learned a little about how He loves us.  I will learn more about God as our Heavenly Father.

There will be so many wonderful things that happen in our lives because of her willingness to serve a mission.  And it will get easier.

But right now, I just want to hold her in my arms.  It hurts so much.  Because a piece of my heart is gone and won't be back for eighteen months.

All The Things Are Happening, Again

Been awhile, hasn’t it? That’s because life has been a nonstop action-packed adventure flick for the last few weeks. After …

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All The Things Are Happening, Again

Been awhile, hasn’t it? That’s because life has been a nonstop action-packed adventure flick for the last few weeks. After …

Continue reading

Full-Blown Panic

So…I learned today that I have no health insurance (at the moment).

My father cancelled my insurance 2-ish weeks ago. And didn’t bother to tell me. Best part of this, I have to say “2-ish” because I have no clue when it actually was. Because he wouldn’t tell me about it…I have absolutely no freaking clue when I lost my insurance. I just know it was cancelled sometime in March.

That’s one of the most frightening things I can consider, honestly. I have prescriptions I have to fill for my mental health…as well as for my physical well-being. And now I learn that I cannot get those prescriptions. Then…there’s the fact that I have preexisting conditions. I know it’s too soon for the preexisting clauses for insurance companies to kick in…but I can’t stop myself from being one step from panicking about what could happen to me. It’s not logical, in the slightest to be freaking out yet, but I’m seriously nervous. Because if something happens, I have nothing to fall back on. But, I had to find out today. Which just causes problems. Because I need all of my medications in the next week or so.

I don’t handle surprises well. Especially not related to my health and mental stability. So getting this dropped on me without warning, when I go to get a prescription…it was pretty much my worst nightmare. I think I’m more furious and panicked that I wasn’t told weeks ago that I had no insurance. I could have looked for new insurance before it ended on March 31st. But instead I found out roundabout today, when I officially have nothing to cover me. That seriously scares me. Because if something happens, I’m not covered. I can’t afford to be without insurance.

And my father didn’t even bother to call me and give me a heads up. So now, I’m just hoping that I can figure something out, promptly, to get me covered. I need insurance. Being this freaked out is really not healthy for me, I know. But I’ll find a way to figure this out. It’s just enough to make me one step off a full-blown panic though, which is why I had to vent this out.

Psychotically,yours

I don’t hear voices telling me to kill. I don’t have violent outbursts. But I feel psychotic. The level of fear and paranoia have reached fever pitch. I constantly feel scared and threatened, suspicious of every sound, every person who passes by. I tell myself it’s not real, it’s my illness, but it FEELS so damned real it sets off that physical fight or flight panic response like gangbusters. I don’t think anyone can understand or even empathize because it does sound crazy and it’s not really textbook. It is, however, my unfortunate reality.

Today has sucked. I buried 4 dead kittens. We had a power outtage during the night and it corrupted my external hard drive so when I got things running again, all my file paths were fucked and no longer usable. I needed a sitter today to go answer R’s beck and call and mom never did return my call. I had a nervous stomach. Since I started the Paxil, I feel like a narcoleptic, my limbs feel like they weigh a ton and no amount of sleep makes me feel rested.

I am fucking frustrated, but also pissed off. I didn’t ask for this. I’m of the mind that genetics raped me. It gave me this junk dna without my consent. I’m not some evil monster who has mood swings for shits and giggles. I am ILL. And it was done against my will, so maybe I’m not being so demanding expecting a little empathy instead of all this “suck it up” and “try harder,you LET it get you down.”

I watched a show the other day, and while yes, it is fiction, it depicted a shrink forcing his severely phobic patient to face his panic inducing fears. And all I could think was, if a shrink did that to me, I’d sue them. That’s not therapy, that is exploitation of someone who has some major issues going on. Maybe immersion therapy works for the select few. For most of us, it would make things worse to the point of hospitalization.

Which I’ve actually thought about a lot lately. Nothing is getting better doing it outpatient. But the sad truth is, you go in for an appendectomy, no one goes to court and uses it to declare you an unfit mom. If I sign myself into the rubber ramada, I am as much as giving up my parental rights for the next 14 years. People aren’t forgiving of mental patients, especially those who’ve had to be hospitalized. Mainly, single moms who have an errant baby daddy who’;d probably relish the chance to use a hospitalization as a way to get custody and avoid paying support. Do I sound paranoid? Fuckers should quit making me be. It doesn’t make it any less real.

Fact is, society at large cannot differentiate between “Mentally ill” or “Mentally ill and a danger to self and others”. They actually view hospitalization as a character weakness.

And I’m not convinced it would do me any good, either. I’m back in that weird space where finding the magic bullet, aka pill, is the name of the game. I’m not saying the right med will cure me, but if it would just get me back in my right mind…I’d be grateful. This should be prime manic time for me, where I get uber energetic and happy and hopeful. Instead, I am dreading every single part of life. Everything. I’m being ripped off, ffs.

Ass trash day. I can’t wait to go to sleep. Except I take Paxil at night and it keeps me awake yet I can’t stay awake during the day. How’s that for fucked up. I just know it wasnt like this on the Viibryd. This started as I stopped it and started Paxil and the shrink did say it makes some people tired. I didn’t realize he meant ALL THE TIME. I won’t last long on this crap if this doesn’t lift soon. People don’t understand why you haven’t raked your yard or why you’re ready for bed at 7pm and when you say “I started a new med” they just act like it’s Tylenol. They have ZERO clue of the side effects of this toxin we so gleefully pump into ourselves in an effort to claw our way out of the depressive abyss.

I haven’t heard from a soul today, even the usual suspects, and it’s making me paranoid. Did I offend someone? I burn bridges like an arsonist burns down buildings. Or am I making myself overly important by assuming it’s anything to do with me?

My brain has been busy with its thoughts today. My skull aches. I need a break from thinking. I will probably take a Trazadone. Screw the hangover. Then I’ll just have to deal with the fucked up nightmares it gives me. I can handle chainsaw wielding killers. I can handle venomous snakes. The one I had the other night was a bank alert telling me my account had been hacked. THAT is a true nightmare. If you don’t agree, try dealing with on line banking one day.