It's the Clouds

It’s the clouds, isn’t it? My favorite sunsets are those when the air itself seems to turn golden or rosy, and that doesn’t happen when the sky is clear. It’s the clouds that make sunsets so beautiful.

The clouds in our lives can seem annoying—like the wisps so high up in the blue, interrupting an otherwise perfect sky.

The clouds in our lives can seem overwhelming—like the ominous dark billows before a storm.

Sometimes, the clouds in our lives are frustrating—like the gray of overcast, making it difficult to see anything else.

Sometimes, the clouds in our lives are confusing—like the big fluffy puffs which you stare at for a long time and you still can’t really tell if they look like bunny rabbits or dolphins.

But it’s the clouds that when the sun begins to set make the moment more beautiful than it would be if the sky was perfectly clear. So it is in life. It’s the clouds of our life and the colors they reflect from the light that make our experiences more meaningful.

I’ve noticed that the sunsets are most beautiful after a hard day. It’s just so refreshing to see something so stunning after soul-stretching. And the most gorgeous sunsets? They’re the best after a storm.

For the sun to give us such a spectacular experience, the clouds have to be part of it.

This afternoon my toddlers spun in circles to David Archuleta’s “Glorious.” And sure, it was cute. But what made it spectacular was the cloud which was a part of it.

We’d listened to that comforting and inspiring song on repeat several years ago after I miscarried and thought Abbey would quite possibly be an only child. My heart longed for more, and wished the cloud would just go away.

Today, that cloud tied to that music made the experience of having two more children even more spectacular as they danced to one of my favorite songs.

It’s the clouds, isn’t it?

Thank You

“Thank you,” he says in his toddler accent as I place his little hand upon my own gripping the potato peeler. I’m preparing dinner, and my two-year-old son is absolutely delighted to “help” with any task I let him. He spoons the flour, mixes with the whisk, and tosses chopped potatoes into the pot of cold water. Later he scoops up the peelings and carefully dumps them into the wastebasket. He sees that he made a mess while spooning the flour and runs to get the broom from the cleaning closet. While he holds the dustpan and I sweep, I contemplate this unique little guy who is so eager to help me. Here he was, grinning from ear to ear and thanking me for letting him help me! I returned the thanks, pleased as punch that he was helping me, and then I was reminded of a recent time when someone let me know that I’d helped them.

Someone had shared a post I’d written. The circumstance and reaction of this person brought me to my knees in gratitude that I’d been able to make a difference, even, and especially, in the midst of a deep depressive episode. I realize that usually when we help someone, as in this instance, there are larger powers at play, but it cheered my heart to be a small part of it. The person thanked me for helping them, but truly, they deserved the biggest and brightest thank you card in existence. Like my little son, I wanted to thank them for letting me help because in helping, I was learning. In helping, my sorrowful heart was lifted because I felt like I have something beneficial to give. In helping, I felt gratitude.

“More help, Mom!” little James pulled at my shirt. His insistent phrase was offering, not pleading. Several years before he was born, and ever since, I’ve needed more help than I’ve ever been comfortable receiving. Yet still you offer. And now I see why.

When help is needed and received, gratitude is the gift we grant each other.

Shoulds

“You should probably open that tonight,” he said as he stood on my front porch handing me a large sealed can labeled “Flour” after one of not quite a dozen dates. It was from the service project we’d participated in that night—preparing flour for food storage at the local church cannery. Since it was prepared to be stored, I didn’t anticipate it going bad any time soon, but it seemed a little suspicious. What, did he expect me make him cookies?

I’d been getting bored, and honestly thought this was probably the last date with him because his personality just seemed too serious, but I did open that can later that night. Inside the can, where I should have seen white powder was a single stargazer lily in a small green vase.

I love a good pun.

It was enough to keep me interested to the present day.

Should. There’s no other word that inspires more achievement. After all, should is the word that leads to goal setting—I should exercise more. “Should” produces movements—we should take care of the homeless.

Yet at the same time, there’s no other word that creates more aching. For example, some people think:

My husband should be more like hers.

We should have more money.

I should be there right now.

My child should be normal.

We surround ourselves with shoulds day in and day out, both positive and negative.

I suppose it’s all because of expectations, and I learned something about those that night with the stargazer lily.

I expected flour to be in the can because it was clearly labeled “Flour”. I thought maybe he expected me to make him cookies, when all he expected was a smile and hopefully another date.

If things had been as they should have been, with flour in the can clearly labeled “Flour”. . . we would have missed out on thirteen years plus forever of growing together to be better people.

I guess what I’m saying is that when you let go of some shoulds, some pretty awesome things can happen.

The Unknown

I’ve been thinking about the unknown. There’s been a lot of that lately, hasn’t there? What I’m trying to figure out though, is why some unknowns are dreaded and others are anticipated.

You know, they say that the best part of a vacation is planning it and waiting for it to arrive. In that example, you have an idea of what’s going to happen, but you don’t exactly, and you can’t wait to experience it all! Even if things don’t fall into your precise itinerary, you know it’s going to be good.

But then, for me at least, before Monday morning even comes around, the dread of another week back in reality is there strong and sharp on Sunday night. It’s kind of similar; you have an idea of what’s going to happen, but you don’t exactly, and you just wish it would all go away. Even if things don’t go terribly, you know it’s not going to be great.

Sure, one situation is fun and the other situation is slightly mundane, but that doesn’t mean that fun situations are immune to bummers and mundane situations are free from laughter. They’re both unknown.

So what makes the difference? Is it mindset? Perspective? Prior experience?

I think that maybe the difference is hope.

Dread tricks your mind into thinking that positive change cannot and will not happen.

A vacation? That’s a change for the better and it’s full of hope.

The daily grind? That’s the usual, and it seems like it’s never going to change.

Realizing that positive change is possible—maybe not immediately—but that it is possible?

That’s a choice.

Choose hope.

Petrichor

Petrichor. It’s the scent after rainfall. You can only sense it after rainfall. The scent does not exist in fog or snow. You can’t get it from the hose or a glass of water. And though many candle and air freshening manufacturers may wish otherwise, it just cannot be replicated. Rainbows? The best ones are after rain, but you can also see them other times—like through a glass prism, or when the spray of the sprinklers dances with the sun. Petrichor? Only after rain.

It’s funny. I’ve never cared for rain much, and I’ve been known on some gloomy days to hide under the blankets. But that scent after the rain? I realize I’m not alone in saying that it’s one of my favorites. It’s invigorating and comforting at the same time. Refreshing.

My friends and I laugh at how much we love this COVID-19 world, and how much we hate it.

My storm is the pressure I feel trying to be in so many places at the same time—playing with my kids, working, and teaching my daughter second grade. But I LOVE the slower pace that also comes with this type of living. That’s my petrichor.

My storm is social distancing. But I LOVE feeling so united. That’s my petrichor.

My storm is how irritated I feel by so much whining and so many requests throughout the day. But I LOVE spending so much time with my favorite people. That’s my petrichor.

My storm is the absence of weekly dates with my husband. But I LOVE having him home so much. That’s my petrichor.

My storm is spending so much time in my house. But I LOVE my home. That’s my petrichor.

Petrichor. The loveliness only comes after the gloom. Sometimes the rain falls slowly and gently, and other times the showers come violently with upsetting lightning and thunder. But always, there is petrichor.

What’s your storm? What’s your petrichor?

Strong Lifeguards and Smart Swimmers: 10 Ways to Stop Suicide

Nearly a dozen souls were admitted to the psychiatric unit the second night I was there. All of them were seriously contemplating or had attempted to leave this world. Although I was there for the same reason, I found myself heartbroken that I had so much company. And then I realized that these are the survivors. That year, 48,344 people died by suicide in our country. The impact reaches everyone.

I’ve hesitated to add my thoughts to the dialogue, for a couple of reasons. First, I want people to understand that although my bipolar disorder distorts my thoughts in a way that sometimes makes suicide appealing, or leaves me with terrible obsessions, I am still usually stable.

Second, I found myself imagining the guilt someone might feel when a loved one dies by suicide even after following these ideas. Guilt on top of grief is a very heavy burden. But my hope that someone’s grief could possibly be avoided became stronger than my hesitation. I’m absolutely not an expert—but having been in situations that could have easily become tragedies, I feel like I have a voice to be heard. Plus, from my experience, these things actually help more than you’d think they could.

I’ve split the following ideas into two sections. One for helpers, who represent the “strong lifeguards”, and one for considerers, who represent the “smart swimmers”.

For Helpers—Be strong lifeguards 

1.  Be an available safe place

When I was out for a walk on a busy road and all I could think about was stepping in front of a car, and my husband was 45 minutes away, I called the next person to come to mind. I called my friend.

Like a lifeguard wears a universally identifiable bright red tank top marked with a large white cross, without specifically saying it, my friend had reminded me over and over again that she was there for me. And not just that she was there for me, but that in a moment of crisis, she would drop everything and stay with me as long as I needed it.

Sometimes when I’m having a hard time, I call my dad. It helps that he’s a therapist, but more than that, he’s a regular in my life. The regulars are like lifeguards, perched in places that enable them to spot the signs of something not being quite right. Just as drowning is often silent, depression is excellent at silencing the ability of a person to reach out. The regulars are the ones that considerers can trust to help, and the ones who they can think of reaching out to.

To someone considering suicide, the regulars in their life are like lifeguards jumping into the water. If you can be on the phone, great. If you can be together in person, even better. It’s important to reduce the person’s sense of isolation, because depression is also excellent at amplifying loneliness.

In your attempts to help, be careful to not imply in any sense that the person, their situation, or their requests are a burden. A lifeguard would consider it their duty and responsibility to help. It’s what they signed up for. Grief would be a heavier and longer-lasting burden.

I remember the night of my first daughter’s blessing day, when she was only a couple of months old, feeling like such a burden with my postpartum issues that it would be better if I just left the world, and that anyone would be a better mother to her than I would be. Looking back now, I realize how wrong I was, but in that moment it made complete sense. I’m grateful that when I shared these thoughts with my husband that he took me seriously. That’s part of being an available safe place.

2.  Take it seriously

Both times I was admitted to the psychiatric unit, the first professionals who evaluated me didn’t think I was truly at risk. But I knew myself more than they did. I feared my spontaneity and I knew that I didn’t feel safe. Later in the process, I was finally taken seriously. Viewing someone as attention-seeking is not helpful, and honestly might even encourage an attempt. I’m sure I’m not the only one who might have sarcastically thought, Oh really? If I attempt or follow through, then will you take me seriously?

Lifeguards are trained to be the most serious person at the pool. When someone has enough courage to say they’re having a hard time, pay attention. Start talking about it.

3.   Talk about it

Shrink the elephant in the room. Someone asking me if I feel suicidal is not going to suddenly make me feel like it’s a good idea, whether or not it had already been on my mind. In fact, bringing it up and discussing what I’m going through and giving me feelings of purpose, belonging, and hope help me realize and reinforce that it’s not a good idea.  Think about it.  A swimmer talking about drowning isn’t more likely to drown. And a lifeguard can give tips to help in dangerous situations.

More than once, my husband has been the one to drop everything, and he has become excellent at talking about my suicidal thoughts. If something’s not clear to him, he’ll ask, “Should I be worried?” That question helps me sort out what I’m feeling and communicate the urgency of the situation.

     4.  Keep them safe

When I was seven years old, the lifeguard at our local pool instructed me to swim from one side of the pool to the other to test if I was ready to play in the deep end. I really struggled, and as I caught my breath, I was told to stay in the shallow area.

I’ve asked my husband on more than one occasion to hide the sharp objects and medications in our house so that I don’t have access to them. When I’m feeling more stable, we put them back where they belong. Ask the considerer what you can do to help keep them safe and do it.

     5.   Help get help

A strong lifeguard knows his or her limits. Once they’ve done their part, others, like paramedics, step in.

So, when you’re helping someone who is considering suicide, help them get professional help. You can get on a call to a crisis line with them. Go to an emergency room or mental health access center with them. The simplest things can seem so overwhelming when depression is involved, and there’s a particular fear that comes with considering suicide which is hard to overcome alone. But with someone by their side, they’re much more likely to get the help they need.

For Considerers—Be smart swimmers

     1.  Go through the motions of coping

You’ve probably often heard the phrase, “Just keep swimming.” If you’re considering suicide, trying coping activities may be helpful. Some of my go-tos are music, funny tv shows, cooking, exercise, art, and writing. Find something you can count on to soothe your soul. Work to find a distraction, and if you need to, take a break.

     2.  Make other plans

Smart swimmers know when their body needs a break and they need to float. Sometimes, however, I find that doing nothing exacerbates my feelings of worthlessness. My psychiatrist taught me a trick though for those days I need to float.

She said to make plans. Make a plan for tomorrow that will improve it. They don’t need to be grandiose things. For example, even though I don’t feel like doing anything today, I can plan to take my kids to get ice cream tomorrow. Planning the memories you want to make is incredibly powerful against suicidal thoughts.

    3.  Find a way to be kind

Okay, so maybe this one doesn’t really fit with my swimming analogy, but planning to do, or actually doing something kind for someone else is another powerful tactic against suicidal thoughts. Again, it can be something simple and even anonymous like picking up some trash at the park, or doorbell-ditching a treat for a neighbor. It increases self-worth almost instantly. Intentional kindness makes intentional living easier.

     4.  Leave triggering situations

One cold rainy day, I found myself at work with an intense obsession to jump off of the balcony near my cubicle, and as the urge became stronger, I realized it was time for me to take a sick day and leave the situation. Smart swimmers do their best to stay out of dangerous water.

     5. Have a safety plan

Smart swimmers wear life jackets in open water. Prior to being released from the psychiatric unit, patients are required to write a safety plan for those times that they find themselves again in figurative open water. We write down our warning signs, coping skills we can use, the people we’ll reach out to (choose some good lifeguards beforehand, so you’ll never find yourself swimming in a pool with no lifeguard on duty), the places we can go for help, and then we sign our name in a promise to live as long and as best as we can.

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Forty-eight thousand, three hundred and forty-four people—all with names. All with families, and hopefully friends. All of them felt they were drowning. Maybe now, by keeping these ten ideas in mind, we can keep more of us afloat.

Seven Ways to Escape Your Life

Being real here for a minute. I just want you to know that if things have been hard for you lately, you’re not the only one. I’ve thought about writing several times over the last few months, but each time, I couldn’t push past the negativity. I even asked my psychiatrist to raise the dose of my medication because my coping skills weren’t cutting it. So many days, I wish desperately that I could just choose to be happy. I’ve found though, that I can choose to be hopeful.

Recently, I’ve been watching a quote float around on Facebook lately that basically says we need to build a life that we don’t have to escape from. And every time I see it, I feel a sense of betrayal like I don’t have what it takes to change my life.

I was changing my one-year-old daughter’s diaper this morning while she bawled a million tears. She didn’t want her diaper changed. She wanted her bottle.

I tried to tell her that a fresh diaper would allow her to more fully enjoy her bottle when it was time. The time during which she wasn’t getting what she wanted was a time of preparation. That experience and its sacred parallels opened my heart to be more patient with my own circumstances.

But my point is that I think a lot of us feel like we’re figuratively getting our diaper changed. And it’s not fun! We know what we want, and this is not it! Sure, we’d love to have a life we don’t have to escape from, but there is no way we can currently achieve that. 

So in the meantime, we need to find escapes to enjoy life during stinky situations (pun completely intended).

Here are seven inexpensive ways I’ve learned to do that...until I can escape to Hawaii—which sounds really appealing right now as I look out the window at twelve inches and counting of white powder.

1. Build relationships

The thing about stinky situations is they suck our energy. When this happens, I intentionally surround myself with people who rejuvenate me. If you’re feeling introverted, discover how to build relationships in ways that don’t drain you. Say something nice to a stranger. Try texting, calling, or Facetiming. Heck, write a letter. Be the person who invites others to join you. I’ve learned that there are lots of people wanting to get together, but not many wanting to plan something to do. Take one for the team and plan a night to the movies. Speaking of movies…

2. Find a favorite show

Entertainment is one of the biggest keys you can use to escape. In addition to movies, look for shows you can binge watch. Hey, binge watching is only a not-so-good idea when you really, truly should be doing other things. And if that laundry really, truly can’t wait, break up the monotony of matching socks with a couple of episodes of I Love Lucy. Oh, it will take you more than a couple of episodes to get that laundry done? Me too.

     3.  Read

They say reading is the easiest way to see the world, and I love the way learning positive new things naturally lifts my spirit. My parents instilled a love of reading into my soul. Before the world of Kindle and Audible, they took my brothers and me to the library weekly. And not just our local library. For years and years, they paid an out-of-towner fee and drove an hour and a half round-trip for access to one of the largest libraries in the state. These days, during my weekly Friday FaceTime ritual with my dad, I love to hear about the half-dozen books he’s tackling at once.

     4. Listen to music

It's easy to match your mood with music. It's also easy to change your mood with music. That's one of the things I love about music is that even if I can't escape the mundane or tedious, I can escape the drudgery of it all with the right songs. Sometimes they're instrumental, and sometimes they're power ballads. And sometimes they're playful showtunes. Snow White, Giselle from Enchanted, Mary Poppins, Cinderella, and other Disney ladies know what they're talking, er, singing about when they break into song all the time while cleaning.

     5. Listen to podcasts

When I was young, I always wondered what the deal was with talk shows like Oprah. Now, as someone with limited adult interaction, I totally get the hype. Podcasts are like the Oprah you can take with you anywhere. When I'm listening to a podcast, it helps me feel like I'm not so stuck in the same old same old. It’s amazing how much a little learning can help me feel like I’m actually going somewhere in life.

    6. Have a short-term thing to look forward to

This one is critical. We absolutely always need things to look forward to like dessert, listening to a new album, taking a bubble bath, or going for a walk. Whether our goal is to have that something be daily or weekly, looking forward to something in the near future helps us realize that our current situations and feelings are not permanent. And when those things aren't permanent, it's easier to persevere.

    7.  Have a long-term thing to look forward to

For the same reasons, by looking to the long-term, we realize so much can change. Choose things to help you hope like planning a party, the 4th of July, a road trip, a meet up with friends or family, or accomplishing a goal. It can be counting down the days to that new chick flick. Heck, plan that trip to Hawaii so that when the opportunity arises, you’ll be ready! #HopingforHawaii.