Blooming In Hard Times

I took this photo of the sunflower during my morning walk last week. Not your typical sunflower along the country road. This plant had only grown a couple of inches off the ground because of the drought. Yet, it still bloomed. It reminded me that even when our circumstances are not perfect, we can still bloom (flourish and thrive according to Dictionary.com).

Last week, I was not thriving. I was being a couch-potato. Playing Sudoku over and over on my iPad. Scrolling through Facebook. Taking naps. Thinking I was writing my book all wrong. Thinking I am a bad friend. Thinking what's the use of having nice things when a hail storm destroys them. Thinking it's too hard to go to the grocery store. I'll wait. Thinking I can't even turn on the TV and watch the morning news like I used to do. All they talk about is COVID-19 and riots.

You get it, don't you?

I couldn't sleep Saturday night and I got up to journal. I wrote about what was going on in my life like the celebration of life we went to that day for my nephew who died in an accident in March. It was good to remember Mark with friends. But it was also hard to go through it again. I wrote about a friendship that is torn, can it be mended? I can only hope and pray. About our church and people who are hurting. About the hail storm that came through and totaled our camper and broke windows in the house. About writing my book and a question that came up.

The last line I wrote - "Maybe I need to see Dr. Anna this week."

By writing it all down, I began to see my pattern of depression. I tend to be able to handle hard things when they come one at a time. When I've got more than three hard things stacking up, that's when I start sliding down into depression. I noticed my red flags - sitting on the couch playing Sudoku, not going to the grocery store when I needed to, questioning myself about everything like writing the book, and sending an e-mail for help writing the book because I wanted someone to tell me what to do.

The first thing I did this morning was make an appointment with Dr. Anna. And I called and talked to a friend I haven't talked to in months. I am thankful for friendships that pick up right where we left off. I took my morning walk. A car stopped and I chatted with the couple I hadn't met before. They asked where I lived and I told them. "Oh, the place with the cute picnic table!" "Yes, the Turquoise Table," and I told them the story about it.

Maybe you are finding yourself in the same place as me. Maybe you are being a couch potato. Or napping to avoid making decisions. Or beating yourself up. Or... whatever your red flags are for depression and anxiety. 

You are not alone.

Once you recognize you are in a hole, do something. Call your counselor or find a counselor. Call a friend. Each small step of action leads to more action. Take a walk. Play basketball. Dance to music. Play an instrument. Sing! If you need rest, rest. Give yourself some grace. 

It's possible to bloom in hard times. Just ask the sunflower. 

P.S. I've shared lots of ways to get through depression and anxiety on this blog. You are welcome to scroll through and find some encouragement. http://beneathadappledsky.blogspot.com/

The Broken Treadmill

In early March, I had a conversation with Dr. Anna. I told her about this great book, The  Atomic Habit, by James Clear, and about the wonderful habits I now had in place. Me, the person who never does the same thing at the same time more than twice. I told her how I got up, made breakfast, unloaded the dishwasher while I made my coffee, read my daily Bible reading while I ate breakfast, then put my shoes on to walk on the treadmill. Habit-stacking at its best! And, I worked on my book every night at 10:30, after I made my Harney and Sons Hot Cinnamon Sunset tea (my cue to write). I had begun to enjoy the order these habits brought to my life and the feeling of accomplishment.

But, I soon learned a life of habits does not guarantee happiness. I had a sinus infection with a cough for several weeks, so I didn't walk on the treadmill while I was sick. Finally, I felt better and decided it was time to get back into my routine. I made my breakfast, unloaded the dishwasher, read the Bible, laced up my walking shoes and stepped onto the treadmill. When I turned it on it beeped in a way it hadn't before and then nothing. The belt didn't move. I turned it off and on, unplugged it and plugged it back in, I even removed the cover and cleaned around the motor. John worked on it, too. Still nothing.

It snowed. It rained. The wind blew. Typical March in Colorado. I am a fair weather walker. The days went by and I found myself getting more and more depressed. My knee started hurting.

I even begged God to miraculously resurrect my treadmill. I turned it on. Nothing.

Colorado was now under the Stay-At-Home order for the Corona Virus. I couldn't take the treadmill somewhere to be worked on or go out and buy a new one. I thought about ordering one online.

Throughout the days my mind kept repeating one question. Why? Why did the treadmill quit now, of all times? I'd been sick, we'd had tragic losses in our family, March is a time when I struggle with depression with its dreary weather, and now we had the fear of the Corona Virus and isolation with the Stay-At-Home order. It also seemed as though all of my self-care routines that worked well for me were taken from me. I'd had to cut back my Vitamin D because my levels were too high when I had my physical. I can definitely tell a difference in my moods when I don't have enough Vitamin D. 

Finally, one morning it hit me. I had to accept that the treadmill was not going to run again. I had to stop questioning why this was happening to me. Stop my mind from running through the whys, the blame, and the self-pity. Thinking about it was getting me nowhere. Well, that's not true. It was taking me on a one-way trip to depression. 

So, I accepted it. Accepted the reality that the treadmill was broke. 

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change."

It is funny how acceptance opens the way for new things to come in. I started doing some exercises. Danced around the living room one day. Picked up my hula-hoop and hooped to some good music. I walked outside in the wind and the cold on the first sunny day. And I enjoyed it. I am still more of a fair weather walker, but I will get out even for a short walk on dreary days.

I am back in the habit of my morning routine finishing with a walk outside, but not quite as fanatically as I was before. Routine is good, but not when it becomes an idol. I saw this connection when I looked back at this post from 2018 - The Idol of Perfection

Life in 2020

5 years ago, I realized I was depressed and began the journey I blog about on Beneath A Dappled Sky. I've shared my ups and downs. What works and what doesn't work. I still visit my therapist, Dr. Anna, once a month. One month I share all of the wonderful progress I've made in triumphing over perfectionism, then the next I may be coping with something in my life that makes me feel as though I am starting over. It is a journey.

We are all on a journey we've never been on before as we travel through the Corona Virus Pandemic of 2020. I've struggled a little with depression and anxiety again because life, both good and bad, continues to happen even during a pandemic.

2020 has been a hard year for my family. We mourned the loss of my mother-in-law who passed away on New Year's Eve, 2019. Then, my 28-year-old nephew and his girlfriend died in a motorcycle accident on March 15 - the week Colorado was told not to gather in groups of more than 10 people. A small family service was held. Overwhelming grief shows up on days we don't expect it. And then more life happens, good and bad.

The pandemic seems to magnify everything. We stay home in isolation. We live in fear of Covid-19. We go to the grocery store where shelves were empty. We almost ran out of toilet paper! Now we wear masks when we go to the store. When fear ramps up, I play the hammered dulcimer, read a book, or take a walk. I miss seeing my grandchildren several times a week, but I am thankful for video chats. 

Today Colorado moved from a Stay-At-Home order to Safer-At-Home. Restrictions loosened a little. I went to my hair stylist and got my hair done today! Little things make a difference. I still look forward to the day when I can meet a friend at a restaurant and visit.

It seems like a good time to write more blog posts for Beneath A Dappled Sky. Because one thing about life is we keep on going. And a time like this can be a time to learn and grow.

The Idol of Perfection

The Warren Gresham Family at the Elbert Christian Church 100th Anniversary in August 2016

Last night four generations of the Gresham family prayed for unity in our families at the National Day of Prayer event in Kiowa. The event was an awesome time of prayer. We were so honored  to be invited. And I am so blessed to be a part of this family, to sit together on Sundays with my in-laws, children, nephews, and grandchildren in the same church where previous generations worshiped together, too.

When it was my turn to pray, I prayed for the wives, mothers, grandmothers and daughters to break down the idol of perfectionism. That is how I've come to see it - an idol. If I can be the perfect wife, mother, grandmother, daughter or Christian, then I am doing what God wants. And, if not, then I have failed. Even when I am falling short of perfection or not even trying because I can't do it perfectly, the idol still stands before me.

Somewhere along the way I got mixed up about God's love, thinking he loves me best when I am perfect. And he loves me less when I am not. 

Somewhere along the way I thought I could be perfect if I just worked a little harder, wasn't so lazy, could be a better wife or mother, and was a better housekeeper. My idol of perfection stood before me. When I read the Bible, I only saw how I would be perfect if I did all of these things. And, since I didn't do them all, I wasn't perfect. Pretty soon I stopped reading the Bible.

And I know I am not the only one. In 2012, the Barna Research Group reported that 50% of women stated that "disorganization" is their greatest struggle followed by 42% listing "inefficiency." That tells me that many women idolize perfection. And worshiping before this idol does not make the family stronger, it tears away at it piece by piece.

The thing about having an idol before God is it doesn't make you better, it only keeps you from God.

My clinical depression (which I viewed as a journey with God) and three years of therapy helped me to understand perfectionism. And perfectionism isn't about doing everything well. Brene Brown defines perfectionism (in part) as "Perfectionism is a self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect, live perfectly, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgement, and blame."  (From The Gifts of Imperfection, p. 57)

What I know today is only the blood of Christ makes me perfect. There is nothing I can do to be perfect or live perfectly. And when I try to live in this way, then I am making Jesus' sacrifice out to be meaningless. It is as if the Law of the Old Testament is in effect today. What better idol could the enemy put before us to separate us from God?

My perfectionism is overcome by God's love and grace and learning to Love Myself and give myself grace and compassion. I seek God and spend time with him in silence. In silence, I am not trying to control anything through prayer, just listening to him, trusting him, and knowing him. When silence is part of my day, I move forward from a centered place, a place where I know I am loved and cherished by God.

I trust God and talk to him throughout my day. I ask him to Order My Day. I live in the moments, rather than being overwhelmed and escaping in a book or being perfect and controlling everything. 

Will you join me in praying for women to break down the idol of perfection? Will you offer grace and compassion with loads of encouragement to the women in your life? Will you reach out to the mother who is hanging on by a thread as her toddler has a meltdown in the grocery store? Will you stop your judgmental thoughts and words when someone isn't doing something just the way you would? 

Wouldn't we all be better off if we look at others and think, "She is doing the best she can." And don't forget to apply that to yourself, too.

When It Is Time To End Therapy

Three years ago, I started a journey—a journey through depression and anxiety. Like any journey, it has a beginning and an end. Well, maybe they are important way-points rather than a beginning and an end because the journey started many years ago and will continue for the rest of my life.

My journey to healing and life started with awareness. “Gayle, are you depressed?” my friend, Victoria, asked. I answered, “Yes, maybe I am,” after I thought about describing my day to her which included trying to decide whether to go to the grocery store or not.

The awareness of depression prompted me to seek counseling. I realized I was living in a box and I didn’t know how to escape it. My world had shrunken to my home and my family. I felt alone, ostracized and hurting. I knew that if I didn’t get help, I was on my way to becoming agoraphobic and never leave home.

I began seeing Dr. Anna and she gave me the tools I needed to move forward. She taught me how to deal with the depressive and anxious thoughts in my head and so much more. I am so thankful for Dr. Anna and her work as a therapist.

Over the past three years, I have:

·         Overcome a phobia of driving across bridges

·         Let go of perfectionism

·         Turned off the “you should, you need to” taskmaster in my head

·         Learned to give myself grace and compassion

·         Received the love of God, who loves me just because he loves me

·         Learned that life is uncertain and sometimes all we can do is accept it

·         Learned to say, “I trust you, Lord,” instead of trying to control

·         Connected authentically to my family and friends

·         Connected with people who have different backgrounds and beliefs than me

·         Embraced this crazy thing we call life

Today, at the end of the counseling session, Dr. Anna pulled out her phone and asked when I wanted to set the appointment for next month. I said, “I don’t think I want an appointment next month. I think I am ready.” She smiled and said, “That is the goal of therapy.”

I know I can call for an appointment any time and I probably will during the winter months. But, I also think I have the skills to cope with life’s ups and downs and my Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). I also have a great support system with friends and family. And I know how important is to keep connections and communication open.

I appreciate all of your support through this journey. Your stories have encouraged me. I will continue this blog, sharing things I’ve learned and what works for me in this life Beneath A Dappled Sky.

Monsoon Season

Today I called my therapist. "I know you're not surprised by this call with this rainy weather," I said on her voicemail. "I need an appointment."

She once told me my diagnosis should be "weather-affective disorder" instead of "seasonal affective disorder." She could tell by looking at my face when I walked into her office whether it was sunny or cloudy outside. It's a good thing I live in Colorado.

It is monsoon season. We've had at least 5 inches of rain the past couple of weeks. Heavy, moody clouds cover the sky and rain comes down as though poured by the hand of God from a pitcher. And it kind of feels like this whole year has been a monsoon season for my family. One crisis after another has fallen.

Last weekend I escaped with my husband to the mountains. I took photos of the moon over Pikes Peak. I sat in my rocking chair reading and soaking in the sun when it chose to appear through the clouds. Silence. Nature therapy. Stillness with God. It helped.

Today I felt the sadness descend on me. Now, I can accept a sad day, knowing the next day doesn't have to be that way. But I realized it's more than just one day. It's time to get some help with it.

I am grateful for the understanding I have about depression and thankful I don't have to handle it by myself. It's hard when you think you are doing so much better - and I was - to feel like you are taking a step back, but that's life. We all do the best we can. 

Vulnerability = Eating Alone At Taco Bell Without Looking At Your Cellphone

If you had asked me a year ago, “What is the definition of vulnerable and how does it make you feel?” I could not have answered your question. Really, I had no clue.

But today I can tell you that eating alone at Taco Bell without looking at my cellphone makes me feel vulnerable. And I know I am not the only one, judging by what other people do while they eat alone.

Brené Brown defines vulnerability as uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure. It has taken a while, but I can recognize when I am feeling vulnerable.

Going inside to eat by myself at Taco Bell is hard. I’d rather go through the drive-thru, order my Burrito Supreme and small Mountain Dew, and find a place to park and eat with the windows rolled down. (Yes, I am an introvert.)

Sometimes, though, I think I’ll just go in to eat. I order, find a place to sit, and pick up my phone to look at Facebook before I take the first bite. Before cellphones, I always carried a paperback book to read.

I loved the day I walked in and saw two of my friends eating there. They invited me to sit with them. Courage has its rewards at times.

Last week, I realized I felt vulnerable when I walked in and ordered. And, because I felt vulnerable, I decided to sit at the table and eat my burrito without looking at my cellphone. I made the choice to stay in uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure without avoiding, shutting down or numbing the emotion by reading Facebook. I leaned into the discomfort and sat with vulnerability.

The first person I noticed was a man in work clothes intent on his cellphone while he ate. He was the only other person there by himself. A woman sat at a table with her elderly father while he told her stories. An employee brought out their order and gave it to the woman and her father. They looked up in surprise, saying they hadn’t heard their number called. I know she didn’t call the number, just cared enough to deliver it without so they wouldn’t have to interrupt their conversation. Two women engaged in excited conversation as they caught each other up on their lives.

Nothing dramatic happened. Just life. Life I would have missed if I hadn’t chosen to spend a few minutes in vulnerability.

I am learning that staying in vulnerability when I feel it makes me more open; open to people, open to circumstances, and open to life.