TMI, in Honor of World Suicide Prevention Day

While I was pregnant with my fifth, the whole world fell apart. Some nut jobs flew planes into the twin towers and the Pentagon. People started getting envelopes with anthrax. My girl scout co-leader staged a coup. ("Good news! We have enough girls from our school to start our very own troop!") The city came into my home under the guise of a rehab loan to insulate our ceiling and get a safe water heater, and decided that a third of my home had been built illegally and needed to come down. I already was experiencing my usual pregnancy depression, and things went south from there. I couldn't take it. I didn't want to take it. Thoughts of death filled my every spare thought. I wanted to die with every iota of myself.

It was obvious that I needed to get back on anti-depressants. I'd gone off mine because I didn't want the extra risks for the pregnancy, but the truth was that suicide was 100% deadly to a fetus. The benefits clearly outweighed the risks. I happened to have insurance at that point so I called Kaiser to get an appointment with a therapist and/or psychiatrist. They asked basic questions to ascertain whether I was planning on killing myself. I knew that a yes to any of those questions would result in a "5150," an involuntary stay at a psych hospital. My kids were 10, 8, 5, and 3 at the time. Where would they go?  The only possible answer: "No, I am not going to kill myself." The Kaiser employee, having determined that she didn't need to send the police to save me, scheduled me for the next available appointment, four months from then. Four months. Luckily, I got into my primary care physician after only a month for an SSRI. I just "talked back to the crazy" while I waited.

My crazy brain thought of caulking myself and the kids into the kitchen and having a "movie, ice cream and pizza party" while the gas was on, and I told the crazy brain to SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP, I'd ponder snow camping and freezing to death, and I told myself that it wouldn't work and to SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP. Envying people with cancer, wishing for a meteorite to take me and my house out, hoping for a deadly car accident, all were greeted with my standard SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP. Never underestimate the power of telling the horrid thoughts no. It got me through while I waited for help.

Eventually, I got my SSRI and I started meeting with the Kaiser therapist, a kind of crappy therapist actually. It was enough to keep my domino up. Kaiser eventually got me in to see a psychiatrist and she was a delight. I later found a private therapist who was willing to do phone therapy with me and I worked hard to find my joi de vivre again. The meds stopped the death thoughts. The therapy gave me tools to deal with the emotions that come with life's trials. I was out of my house for fifteen months with a young family. It sucked in the biggest possible way, but I stayed alive. And I got better.

My husband later told me that while crazy me and sane me were fighting it out in my brain, I was calmer than usual and easier to get along with. He couldn't tell that I was on the edge of the abyss. I was running girl scout meetings and interviewing contractors and meeting with midwives and homeschooling and wanting to die with every iota of my being. I talked to some of my closest friends about it. I talked to my husband about it. They all knew I was stressed, but they didn't know how tempted I was. How close I was. Even though I was saying it, they weren't seeing it.

One of my closest friends saw it. She was similarly tempted. She and I made a living pact, similar to a suicide pact, with a happier outcome. The image of the line of dominoes falling and standing strong to hold up the dominoes that depended on me came from this pact of ours.  If I were to kill myself, people would be affected. Period. A lot of people.

I don't say this because I am immensely popular. I say it because when Carla jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge, it affected me. We weren't close, but she was my friend. She bought cookies from my girl scouts. She was a Pampered Chef host for me. We'd talked about life, parenting. I say it because when the daughter of one of my best friends from college took her life a few weeks ago, when the sweet girl from my first married ward and sister of my good friend killed herself last week, those deaths affected me. When they died, my domino took a hit, a big hit. Every domino that falls hits so many others. Some we would never suspect. I do not want to knock other people's dominoes over.

I'm not blaming people who kill themselves. Depression is a real illness.When people kill themselves they are not being selfish. They are being sick. Their brain chemicals and their hormones are out of whack. When I started taking the SSRI, my death thoughts stopped. I didn't have to shut them up. They went away because my chemical imbalance was being corrected. It wasn't magic. I had to try several different kinds of SSRIs and fiddle with the dosages with my doctor, but it worked. I'm healthier.

I'm not sharing all this for a big pity party or a love-on-Jami-fest.  I'm sharing it because I know right now there's someone doing all the stuff they are supposed to be doing while envisioning their own death, while googling painless suicide methods, while trying to figure out how to do it with the least amount of harm to those left behind. I'm begging those people to stay, to please get help, even though it all seems insurmountable.

There are happy days ahead even if you can't imagine them now. Believe me. Believe all of the survivors before you. Please seek help. For every time I've thought that life was hopeless and there was no point in going on, I've had a dozen where I experienced peace and joy that I would not have happened if I'd given up. It's not all fields of daisies, but it's do-able with moments of delight.

Those of you who are supporting someone who is tempted by suicide, I need to tell you that if they decide they are going to kill themselves no amount of following them around and trying to fix it will stop them. This is their battle. BUT you can help. You can be there. You can not judge. You can not make it worse by making it about you. You can not give up on them. There are many resources (some conflicting) that you can explore, including seeking therapy on your own. Here's a nice starting point.

For those of you who are on the edge, have been on the edge or might be on the edge in the future,  I give you one of the best self care lists I've ever run into.  Seriously, click on it and try a few of the things. I also give you the number to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-8255. Also I remind you that no one can be you. Not to your kids or your friends. Not to your mom or dad. Not to your mail carrier. You are the only you that is ever going to be and you are precious. Please stay with us. Stay to experience those bright moments of joy that will surely come. Stay to someday hold the hand of someone else who wants to die. Don't buy the lie that it won't get better. It will. Don't buy the lie that we'd be better off without you. We won't be. Stay. Please.

Twenty Years Ago

January 17, 1992

Jami and Sam were married in the Oakland temple.

It's been a very eventful twenty years. If I'd been married in a standard wedding ceremony, I would have vowed to have and to hold my sweetheart "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part." We've had better, worse, richer, poorer, sickness and health. We do love and cherish each other, but I am glad that all that work we've put in through the worst, the poverty and the sickness is going to pay off a little longer than until death. (Let's face it the better, richer, healthier times are their own reward.) Our vows are for eternity and distinctly include a third party, our Father in Heaven. Without him, we doubtless would have quit. With him, we have a relationship worth having for eternity.

I don't remember much of the ad lib part of my wedding ceremony, where the man sealing our marriage for time and all eternity gives his thoughts and advice on marriage, but I remember one thing vividly: his testimony of the importance of the atonement of Jesus Christ, of repentance, and of the need to forgive each other as God forgives us. I remember how intensely I felt the Holy Spirit confirm the truth of those words. As I've thought about what to say about a marriage that has weathered the stormy seas, I just want to say to those on those seas that there is joy and sun ahead through the atonement. Truly, God heals. "Whatever Jesus lays his hands upon lives. If Jesus lays his hands upon a marriage, it lives. If he is allowed to lay his hands on the family, it lives."

Don't get me wrong. I love my husband. I enjoy having and holding him. His quirky sense of humor makes me smile. His humility inspires me. His voice melts me. Tonight we are going to ditch our six kids and go do something fun. Even so, our anniversary is a day, just one out of 7,304 so far. I look forward to many more and to an eternity beyond our years.

Stand Strong, Little Domino

I know you're thinking "what's with the domino?" If you're not, you should be, because the sweetness of this gift is all about the domino. It's a gift from a kind and busy woman. This week, one of the speakers in sacrament meeting had been talking about adversity, and afterwards my friendly acquaintance and I were talking about life's challenges and I shared my domino image.

When things get tough and it seems like things are hitting from all sides, I have a mental image that holds me together—dominoes. I see lines of dominoes all converging at a single domino. And then from that single domino come another set of domino lines, from which spring even more domino lines. The first set all fall one after another, and then stop at the single domino. That domino stands strong and doesn't knock over the remaining lines.

I'm not saying I'm Super Domino. I'm not. And something may happen down the line that topples the setup, but it won't be me. It won't be because I quit. I don't want to do hard things. I'd much rather life was fluffy and more picturesque, but it's not. And I have dominoes depending on me. Most of the dominoes that strike me are things or situations, but all of the dominoes that stand in front of me are people. People worth standing strong for, regardless of the pressures from behind.

So that's the deal with the domino (and the flowers are pretty too).

Sad News

My mother-in-law died on Thursday after courageously going through nearly four years of chemo. (Not a whiner, my mother-in-law.) I'm surprised at how sad I feel. We weren't close. If she lived another twenty years, we wouldn't have become close, but she is the mother of the dearest man in the world and the grandmother to my favorite six kids. Her death is a reminder that my mother's is coming. That mine is coming.

OK, now I'm going to go watch a comedy and laugh until I cry.

Long Time No Blog

Yeah, I know. I've gone inactive in the blogging community. Become a sporadic stalker. I've stayed on top of a few blogs, mostly those of people who I've connected with in real life one way or another, but overall I've poofed into a poignant memory.

In the meantime, my lousy block-buster post draws the afflicted by the thousands: 83,521 overall as of 10:15 AM. Sometimes I feel like I should just change my header to some sort of lice and nit theme. Strangely, Cutest Blog on the Block doesn't have that template. Weird.

Anyhow, I'm alive. Big things have been happening. Little things have been happening. I have every intention of writing more. (see resolutions) Look for upcoming posts about my contemplation of running a marathon. And losing another 120 pounds. And being nicer. And cleaning up my language. It's going to be amazing (and vaguely nauseous).

And I Quote

"I was bred to the law; that gave me a view of the dark side of humanity. Then I read poetry to qualify it with a gaze upon its bright side; and between the two extremes I have contrived through life to draw the due medium."

Thomas Jefferson, as quoted in Thomas Jefferson and the Rhetoric of Virtue

I Need More

I think I may need an adjustment on my anti-depressants. I'm hoping that doubling the dosage will bring the excellent mood lift that the current dosage used to bring.



We may need to move to the half-gallon, but if that doesn't work I may have to take drastic measures to restore my equilibrium.

Peace and Wisdom in 313 Words

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

(Max Ehrmann c.1920)

Update

1. My dad can talk again. YAY! Still no diagnosis. So my guess? He's been drinking like a fish for fifty years now and it's beginning to catch up with him, the beginning of the prophesied end described by his doctors, his [ex-]wives and his children for years. It's sad. Free agency + Consequences + My dad = Not pretty.

2. This blasted dial-up from H-E-Double-toothpicks! It's worse than no Internet at all. I read a post and try to comment. The connection is gone. Read an urgent email, hit reply. Helllooooo? Gone. Rest assured that I do read your posts even if all of my wise comments disappear into the void before you get read them.

3.Quote of the week: So now that your Internet is gone, do you find yourself reconnecting with your children?

4. Answer of the week: No, but I finally figured out how to play Minesweeper.

5. This Thanksgiving, I thank God for the drop in gas prices. Whew! What a blessing!

Wow! What a day!

Phone's out. Spent the better part of the afternoon trying to figure out what was wrong with my modem. Answer? Nothing. It's the phone. Dial up, doncha know. I am supposed to be turning in paperwork for $6000 worth of Girl Scout magazine sales. (Yesterday at 5pm) BUT I can't get the printout I need to finish the baby up. I owe the people at council brownies or something. They have been so nice. Nevertheless color me done with fundraisers. Forever.

Dryer's out. And the sun is not. Line drying loses it's attractiveness in the pouring rain.

ANYWAY because apparently I haven't had enough irony today, I'm over at the sister's place using her dryer and her Internet. It's a darn good thing she never reads my blog or I'd be toast. Very crispy toast.

It's kinda sweet how the phone company is so concerned about my situation. They're rushing a technician out Wednesday morning. I think someone rigged it so I can't go online until after the election.

So have fun without me for a bit. TTFN.

Never a Story of More Woe

Balloons and I, we want to get along. They wish to please me. I admire and respect their uplifting potential. Alas, 'tis a star-crossed relationship. In spite of our best intentions, things always go awry.

Long ago, I decided that my man needed a huge buoyant symbol of my love. What to do, what to do? Ah! Fill his car with balloons while he was at work. I would write little things I loved about him on slips of paper. "Musical genius." "Amazing singing voice." "A melt-me reading voice." "Great with kids." "Comfy hugger." "A fine enchilada maker." Stuff 'em in balloons. And fill his car! He'd love it!

Let me tell you. I don't care how much you love someone, finding 100 ways to say "You're cool! Glad I married you. Let's smooch!" is a creative challenge. "You leave fantastic outgoing messages on the machine." "You are so gifted at Jenga." "No one reaches high places quite like you." "Wow! Can you open jars or what?!?"

So after much effort, I got the little love notes done, stuffed into balloons and began inflating the eighty-some-odd balloons the old-fashioned way: I huffed, and I puffed, and I puffed, and I huffed. Then I bagged them all up and drove to my man's parking garage while he was still working, my car filled to the brim with loving balloons. It was so fun emptying bag after bag into his little sub-compact.

OH NO! I was out of balloons and the car was nowhere near completely filled. The loving gesture wouldn't work if the car wasn't completely full! He had to pop his way in so he could see how much I admired his ability to carry out the trash with athletic grace and poise. Scrambling around, I managed to come up with some leftover balloons.

But OH NO! I had no paper, no pencils, and to be frank I was plumb out of ways to say, "Hey Baby, you light my fire!" Besides he was getting off work really soon and I needed to skedaddle. Oh well, this batch would have to be love note-free.

I puffed and I huffed and I huffed and I puffed. Thirty more balloons! Whew. In they went. On his car door, I taped a pin on a copy of Browning's "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." It was SO CUTE! I knew I'd score eternal brownie points for this one.

OK...let's stop. What happens next? Jewelry, right? Special snuggles? NO WAY. The experience involved balloons. It was doomed from the start.

My man came home a bit perplexed. Apparently, being forced to pop a hundred balloons after a hard day at work didn't strike him as romantic.

"The little love notes were sweet though...right?"

"I guess, but what was with the empty balloons? It was like you ran out of stuff to say."

"Uh...well..." Doomed.

And so it has gone. Balloons have burst, gotten caught in trees, flown away, caused fights, caused tears. Balloons were shiny sorrows on strings. I swore them off forever.

Then I was struck with Stephanie Nielson's story and the whole balloon release for NieNie. Surely for something so beautiful, surely, it would all turn out well.

E and I bought our balloons last Tuesday. As always, the sight of the balloons gladdened my heart. Eight red balloons, gloriously glistening, bouncy and new! Watching the baby's delight as she bobbed them up and down—pure joy!

The homeschooled kids were curious. My man was curious. Balloons? Mom never gets balloons! Who were they for?

"You'll see," I'd answered mysteriously. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I had the markers ready. After the school kids got home, we'd each get a balloon, choose a wish and a goal to work on, write wishes and commitments on the ruby surfaces, then we'd release them heavenward. We would remember it for the rest of their lives.

OK...let's stop. What happens next? A sweet bonding moment for the family? Treats? A big group hug? NO WAY! The experience involved balloons. It was doomed from the start.

When L and V got home from school, they noticed the balloons in my bedroom right away and immediately began fighting about them. L grabbed the bunch and ran out the front door. V ran screaming after.

"Do not take them outside!" I warned. By the time I got to the door, L had released them to the tune of V's sobs.

I sighed as I watched them shimmer away. I should have known. Doomed.

Since Last I Posted

Ten days, come and gone.
A cat lost, a cat found.
A beautiful funeral for an amazing woman.
The first day that any of my children have ever attended a plain old normal public school.
(And the second.)
The first day of homeschool co-op.
The E-teen's first driving lesson (which oddly enough included no driving).
Our first two days on a comparatively firm schedule.
Four migraines.
Some gastric distress.
Hundreds of hives that come and go.
It's been grand.