Tuesday April 17, 2012
I realize it has been almost 2 weeks since I blogged last. A lot has been going on here and I haven't had the time or the energy to blog. Thus, my goal of blogging every day for a year has failed.
That's a really tall order.
Nonetheless, I thought I could do it.
I'm not going to be too terribly hard on myself for not making it... I can try again. I will keep blogging when I have the time. I may pick back up and publish some of the things I have written while I was taking a break, but I'll need to think about that. Thank you for reading...
There are a lot of issues being talked about right now - one of them very near and dear to my heart ~
Stay-at-home-moms and their value in this world.
I think this is a great debate. I have been on both sides of the table and currently I am the stay-at-home variety.
But not by choice. Let me explain:
Before I had kids, my heart long desired to be a stay-at-home mom. After I had my first daughter, the very first night, I knew I could never do it. So, I was happy working 40-50 hours a week, the daycare we chose for the girls was top-notch and absolutely amazing (no, not the Taj Mahal, but two sweet little old ladies who had been in childcare their whole lives, and were MIRACLE WORKERS with the patience of Job ~ they were SO good with my "special" colicky babies).
3 years ago, I quit my job (that I LOVED) of 8 years to pursue an opportunity with a different company (who, in fact, pursued me). Four months into that new job, I found out I was pregnant with my second baby. I was on part time disability for most of the pregnancy, and suffered severe postpartum depression after she was born, and I was off work for 4 months. When I returned to work, I was rejuvenated, energized and rocking my job. 6 weeks after my return to work, I was called in to the boss' office on a Wednesday morning at 10:30 am. I was told that they were shrinking their sales force and enlarging their territories, so I was out. I cried, my manager cried, and the HR Manager that was there cried. It was a hard day. I was put in a position without choice, still recovering from PPD, and it. was. tough. And that's putting it mildly.
Nonetheless, I struck out, eager to find new work. In the late summer/fall of 2009, this was NOT an easy task. The unemployment rate was sky high, and there were hundreds of thousands of people in my same boat. I was applying for all kinds of work - but knowing that I needed a certain income to cover daycare costs, and replace the company vehicle and gas that I had just lost. I was repeatedly turned down. My resume matched some of those job descriptions to a T, yet they hired a "candidate whose qualifications more closely match the position". So, I took this as sign.
Eventually I found my way at home. We had playdates, I struggled to juggle the housework, the bills, the groceries, doctor appointments, dentist appointments, the errands, the kids ~ sick and healthy, myself ~ sick and healthy, grandparents, evening events, sports, dance, school, friends, family and everything in-between. Remember, I didn't have a husband at home during the week - it was just me and the girls. All day. Every day. I did, however, have a TON of help from my parents, my in-laws who live close, my friends (with and without kids) - I knew that whatever I needed I just had to ask for it. And I did.
Yet I still searched for work. To no avail. I was told on numerous occasions how blessed I was to be able to stay at home and what an incredible value that would add to my girls' lives. I was told how I could never get this time back, never ever ever and how absolutely precious it was. I kept thinking, "Are they 10 & 13 yet, or 18 & 15? Time! Would 'ja hurry up?!"
Here I am, 3 years later, and I'm still not adjusted. I often wonder how I ever did it. Take all of those "duties" listed above "the housework, the bills, the groceries, doctor appointments, dentist appointments, the errands, the kids ~ sick and healthy, myself ~ sick and healthy, grandparents, evening events, sports, dance, school, friends, family and everything in-between" and add 40-50 hours of work to it. Sure, some things suffered while I was working, and others suffer while I am at home.
Like me.
I don't wear makeup everyday, I don't do my hair everyday. No, I don't stay in my pajamas - I actually shower and get dressed, but I don't wear heels anymore, or black dress pants and blouses. While I was working, the housework suffered (a little). It's a give and take. It's about priorities.
During neither phase of my life ~ working or not ~ have my kids suffered. They were in a wonderful daycare with caregivers that loved them as if they were their own. And at home, they're with their Mama. And they looooooove their Mama. So so very much. And they tell me every day just how much. Sometimes they'll even tell me that they don't, just so I'll tell them that I do, and how much, and we laugh and giggle and tickle until we hug and kiss. Sometimes the girls argue over who loves me the most.
I'm okay with that.
I don't want to get into the debate over which is better - stay at home moms or working moms. I don't think it matters. The commonality that those two titles have is the word "MOM". Some of us don't have a choice but to work, because our household requires the income. Some of us don't have the choice but to be at home, because the economy is not kind. Others choose to work, and are perfectly happy with daycare or family members helping out with childcare. And I don't think our kids are any worse or better off for that. Some women choose to stay at home and they base their budgets and lifestyles around that choice. I don't think our kids are any worse or better off for that choice either.
You can look at statistics all day long. It doesn't really matter, does it? If we, as moms, put forth our best effort every minute of every day (ok, yes, sometimes I take breaks too) whether we're working or at home, won't our kids turn out however they're going to turn out? I'm not a worse mom because I'm at home everyday with my girls. I wasn't a better mom when I was working full time.
I am the same mom that I have been since my daughters we born. The same.
The same loving, caring, disciplining, nurturing and amazingly protective mom. It is up to me to find the best care for them ~ whether it's me or someone else doing the "caring". It's up to me, as their parent ~ working or not ~ to ensure a proper upbringing for them.
I've been on both sides. There are positives and negatives on both sides. My neighbor's situation is different than mine. My girlfriend's lives are different than mine. Everyone has their own unique situation and they base their decision (whether it's their choice or not, in my case) on the solution that's best for their family.
No one should judge that choice. We should appreciate one another for where we are, and who we are.
We should celebrate each other as mothers.
Showing posts with label Postpartum Depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Postpartum Depression. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
103 Posts Ago... (87/366)
Friday March 30, 2012
This is a neat feature that I learned from Single Dad Laughing. Each day when he publishes, at the top of his blog is the feature "500 Posts Ago". It's a flashback to posts that were so long ago, and it breathes new life into the blog.
So, I thought I would start with my most popular posts, and expand on them. I am now on Twitter (@Rairighk) and I share my blog posts with the rest of the world that can't see them on Facebook. This is in an effort to grow my blog and get it out there. Someday, maybe it will be in the right hands and go further than just my own computer screen!
103 posts ago I wrote about Postpartum Depression (PPD), and gave a shortened version of what we went through (you can read it here). This was my very first blog post and at the time I wrote it, my youngest baby was 18 months old. I was still experiencing symptoms, I was seeing a therapist weekly and I was on antidepressants.
Since that time, I have learned so much about PPD and how to overcome it. I can honestly say that PPD has affected me permanently - by that I mean that while I don't still suffer from symptoms directly, it has forever altered how I view motherhood.
Whether that was my choice to allow PPD to do that, or it happened naturally, I feel that the PPD I experienced after the birth of my first daughter was mis-diagnosed, and not treated properly.
The world of Postpartum Depression is broad, and each woman who suffers from it experiences a variance of symptoms. While traumatic for me, I consider mine on the minor side.
I have since learned more about not only PPD, but Postpartum Psychosis (PPSD) and other disorders that sway to the extreme side of instability after having a baby.
Many women are ashamed of not feeling like the mother that their friends, neighbors, family and society are, or tell them they should be. It is a haunting disease and unless you or someone you know has experienced it, you could never possibly understand.
If you or someone you know are experiencing PPD or PPSD, please reach out. Start with your doctor. Make sure you tell your spouse, your best friend, your Mom. I know it's hard to talk about, it's SO hard to explain the feelings that you are experiencing, but you cannot remain silent.
There is so much joy and life to live with your baby, your spouse, your other children and this disease will eat you alive. If you do not get the support you need from your doctor, your family or your friends, keep searching. Find the strength to keep going every day - and keep searching for an out. Below are a couple of resources that may help point you in the right direction:
The Online PPMD Support Group - this page has a link to live support, and they will search for support in your area, free of charge. There is also a crisis hotline listed on this page.
Postpartum Support International - another easy to maneuver website with links to support in your area, and a network of women having the same experiences.
Thank you for reading (again). I am thankful that I am able to share my experiences - it has taken a long time for me to come to grips with my "new" life as a mother. Here's another link to Flashbacks To Losing It. If it helps just one new mother, then my goal was accomplished.
Please share this post in your circles. Statistics show that 1 in 8 new mothers experience some form of PPD or PPSD. Motherhood is such an amazing miracle and gift from our Creator. This disease robs all of us from experiencing that joy - so hopefully together we can heal.
This is a neat feature that I learned from Single Dad Laughing. Each day when he publishes, at the top of his blog is the feature "500 Posts Ago". It's a flashback to posts that were so long ago, and it breathes new life into the blog.
So, I thought I would start with my most popular posts, and expand on them. I am now on Twitter (@Rairighk) and I share my blog posts with the rest of the world that can't see them on Facebook. This is in an effort to grow my blog and get it out there. Someday, maybe it will be in the right hands and go further than just my own computer screen!
103 posts ago I wrote about Postpartum Depression (PPD), and gave a shortened version of what we went through (you can read it here). This was my very first blog post and at the time I wrote it, my youngest baby was 18 months old. I was still experiencing symptoms, I was seeing a therapist weekly and I was on antidepressants.
Since that time, I have learned so much about PPD and how to overcome it. I can honestly say that PPD has affected me permanently - by that I mean that while I don't still suffer from symptoms directly, it has forever altered how I view motherhood.
Whether that was my choice to allow PPD to do that, or it happened naturally, I feel that the PPD I experienced after the birth of my first daughter was mis-diagnosed, and not treated properly.
The world of Postpartum Depression is broad, and each woman who suffers from it experiences a variance of symptoms. While traumatic for me, I consider mine on the minor side.
I have since learned more about not only PPD, but Postpartum Psychosis (PPSD) and other disorders that sway to the extreme side of instability after having a baby.
Many women are ashamed of not feeling like the mother that their friends, neighbors, family and society are, or tell them they should be. It is a haunting disease and unless you or someone you know has experienced it, you could never possibly understand.
If you or someone you know are experiencing PPD or PPSD, please reach out. Start with your doctor. Make sure you tell your spouse, your best friend, your Mom. I know it's hard to talk about, it's SO hard to explain the feelings that you are experiencing, but you cannot remain silent.
There is so much joy and life to live with your baby, your spouse, your other children and this disease will eat you alive. If you do not get the support you need from your doctor, your family or your friends, keep searching. Find the strength to keep going every day - and keep searching for an out. Below are a couple of resources that may help point you in the right direction:
The Online PPMD Support Group - this page has a link to live support, and they will search for support in your area, free of charge. There is also a crisis hotline listed on this page.
Postpartum Support International - another easy to maneuver website with links to support in your area, and a network of women having the same experiences.
Thank you for reading (again). I am thankful that I am able to share my experiences - it has taken a long time for me to come to grips with my "new" life as a mother. Here's another link to Flashbacks To Losing It. If it helps just one new mother, then my goal was accomplished.
Please share this post in your circles. Statistics show that 1 in 8 new mothers experience some form of PPD or PPSD. Motherhood is such an amazing miracle and gift from our Creator. This disease robs all of us from experiencing that joy - so hopefully together we can heal.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Fork In The Road (83/366)
Monday March 26, 2012
I love to write.
It's incredibly therapeutic for me.
I appreciate everyone who reads my blog, whether you get the email feed and click right away, or you come to it at your leisure.
Lately I've been feeling like something is missing.
I started this blog in 2010 when I was in the process of pulling myself out of the deep, dark hole of depression. There were so many things bogging my mind down. Not the least of which being the Postpartum Depression I was still struggling with. That post, Flashbacks To Losing It, remains the most popular and by far the most read.
My goal at that time was to write about things that NO One was talking about, but SO many people were feeling or experiencing. I've never been afraid to speak my mind or say things that some might find uncomfortable.
Of course, this leaves me open to judgement by many. I've gone back & forth about how far to go with postings. I've always done my best to be anonymous, never naming names. Any pictures I post of others or their kids are done so with their permission first.
Recently, I've been posting about my kids, things we've done or things they've said. I think that's important to do as well.
But not everyday.
When I agreed to blog everyday for an entire year, I had no idea really what I was getting myself into. It is a huge task.
Not every day has a story. Not every day has a momentous occasion to share. Not every day is there something weighing heavy on my mind.
I am almost 3 complete months into my year of daily blogging and I feel it has gotten a little off track. When I write about the hard stuff, the controversial stuff, the personal stuff, there are at times 10 times more readers on those posts.
That tells me a lot.
Either people like to read about the hard stuff, or they are sharing it more with their friends, or they are talking more about me and how my (sometimes crazy) mind works, or they're trying to figure out who I am talking about ~ no matter which it is, people are reading.
9 times out of 10, I am getting praise and compliments for the popular posts. I've been told to reserve a copy of my first book for some friends. I get private messages from people that can relate. I get public comments of praise.
I also get some criticism, but that is to be expected. I don't expect anyone to think or feel the way that I do. I blog based on my own life experience and how it has shaped my mind to think.
So I've decided to go back to posting about the things that no one talks about. Of course, some of these posts will be controversial and you may not agree with them. I'm going to try to keep it personal and relay to you how it seems from my eyes, but I welcome your comments and your feedback. I will, of course, continue to be discreet and respectful of the situations and experiences I choose to blog about. Losing followers in no way compares to losing friends ~ and I would never want to alienate any of my friends. I may even change the name of this blog... I'm still debating that one.
I want to grow this blog, and hopefully turn it into something bigger someday. Since I have become a mother, I have very much desired to write a book. I would love to write about divorce and how it affects teenage girls (I'm sure this has been done hundreds of times, but my story is different), I would love to write a book about how having step-parents has affected me as a young girl, teenager and a woman (also, been done before), and I would love to write a book about the after-life of becoming a mother. While joyous and miraculous, having children for me has not even come close to being the experience I had in my mind that it would be. I think that is something many women feel, don't talk about, and may find some comfort in knowing they're not alone.
Today, I'm thankful for the decision that was so hard for me to make. I am thankful for those readers that stick with me through this and help me along the way.
It is with a deep breath that I click "publish".
I love to write.
It's incredibly therapeutic for me.
I appreciate everyone who reads my blog, whether you get the email feed and click right away, or you come to it at your leisure.
Lately I've been feeling like something is missing.
I started this blog in 2010 when I was in the process of pulling myself out of the deep, dark hole of depression. There were so many things bogging my mind down. Not the least of which being the Postpartum Depression I was still struggling with. That post, Flashbacks To Losing It, remains the most popular and by far the most read.
My goal at that time was to write about things that NO One was talking about, but SO many people were feeling or experiencing. I've never been afraid to speak my mind or say things that some might find uncomfortable.
Of course, this leaves me open to judgement by many. I've gone back & forth about how far to go with postings. I've always done my best to be anonymous, never naming names. Any pictures I post of others or their kids are done so with their permission first.
Recently, I've been posting about my kids, things we've done or things they've said. I think that's important to do as well.
But not everyday.
When I agreed to blog everyday for an entire year, I had no idea really what I was getting myself into. It is a huge task.
Not every day has a story. Not every day has a momentous occasion to share. Not every day is there something weighing heavy on my mind.
I am almost 3 complete months into my year of daily blogging and I feel it has gotten a little off track. When I write about the hard stuff, the controversial stuff, the personal stuff, there are at times 10 times more readers on those posts.
That tells me a lot.
Either people like to read about the hard stuff, or they are sharing it more with their friends, or they are talking more about me and how my (sometimes crazy) mind works, or they're trying to figure out who I am talking about ~ no matter which it is, people are reading.
9 times out of 10, I am getting praise and compliments for the popular posts. I've been told to reserve a copy of my first book for some friends. I get private messages from people that can relate. I get public comments of praise.
I also get some criticism, but that is to be expected. I don't expect anyone to think or feel the way that I do. I blog based on my own life experience and how it has shaped my mind to think.
So I've decided to go back to posting about the things that no one talks about. Of course, some of these posts will be controversial and you may not agree with them. I'm going to try to keep it personal and relay to you how it seems from my eyes, but I welcome your comments and your feedback. I will, of course, continue to be discreet and respectful of the situations and experiences I choose to blog about. Losing followers in no way compares to losing friends ~ and I would never want to alienate any of my friends. I may even change the name of this blog... I'm still debating that one.
I want to grow this blog, and hopefully turn it into something bigger someday. Since I have become a mother, I have very much desired to write a book. I would love to write about divorce and how it affects teenage girls (I'm sure this has been done hundreds of times, but my story is different), I would love to write a book about how having step-parents has affected me as a young girl, teenager and a woman (also, been done before), and I would love to write a book about the after-life of becoming a mother. While joyous and miraculous, having children for me has not even come close to being the experience I had in my mind that it would be. I think that is something many women feel, don't talk about, and may find some comfort in knowing they're not alone.
Today, I'm thankful for the decision that was so hard for me to make. I am thankful for those readers that stick with me through this and help me along the way.
It is with a deep breath that I click "publish".
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Flashbacks to Losing It
This week I learned that an old friend of mine is suffering severly from Postpartum Depression and Postpartum Psychosis. Her Facebook status update simply stated that she is "struggling to stay alive", and a video posted about another woman who lost the battle to PPD "saved her life and the life of her kids". Seeing this about my friend brought back memories for me of a time shortly after I had each of my babies; a time that I almost lost it.
Hannah Grace was born on March 12, 2006. She was an absolutely beautiful baby, and rolled back to front right away on the newborn scale in the delivery room. We knew that she was going to be extra special. I was just shy of my 25th birthday and my husband was just shy of his 29th birthday. Young, first time parents, with their newborn and floating on a cloud... not so much. My husband left the hospital at night so he could get some good sleep in order to be more helpful after I got home with the baby. So it was just me, the baby and the nurses who, I could just say, do this all the time and could have stood to take a course in bedside manner with new, young, first time mothers. I had NO idea what I was doing. I had heard that babies cry a lot when they're newborns, but when Hannah cried that entire first night - all night - I couldn't believe it. I had tried to send her to the nursery because naturally, I was exhausted. They sent her back to me. I was told that I needed to be with my baby and she was crying so much that she was keeping the other babies in the nursery awake. So here I am, a mother of less than 24 hours, standing in my hospital gown, all night long, with a newborn that won't (or can't) stop crying. I cried too... a lot.
When my husband came back the next morning I told him what had happened. He promised to stay with me the second night to help me. The second night was much the same as the first, and now we were 2 stressed out, sleep-deprived first time parents with a baby that won't (or can't) stop crying.
The days and weeks went by, Hannah kept crying. And crying. And crying. Dr. appointments, diet changes for me (I was nursing), formula supplements, Reflux medications, GERD medications, and NO SLEEP. No exercise. Did I mention no sleep? We would send her to the grandparent's for a few hours so Matt & I could rest, go visit friends, get out of the house, shower. They too, sent her back. "Come & get your baby. She won't stop crying and I've tried everything". There were days I would cry so hard and so much, I would take myself out to the driveway, collapse in a ball on the concrete - in front of the car so my husband would have to run me over with it before he could leave me alone with this baby!
I was diagnosed with Situational Postpartum Depression. I was put on medication and my doctor felt that my symptoms would subside when Hannah's did, and that they were (somehow) connected. After 4 months, I returned to work, life went on and now Hannah is almost 5 years old and just as special (or more) as we knew she would be that first day we met her.
3 years later we had Ava. No colic, no reflux, no GERD. She slept well, she ate well, she was always happy. But I wasn't. Again, it hit me. About 4 weeks after she was born I started noticing those nagging, creeping feelings that weren't supposed to be in my head. I got back on medication and this time, started seeing a therapist. Not only had PPD hit me again, but I had another child to care for, and life to live on top of it. It was worse with the second one. Why? She was a great baby. Why was this happening again, and worse this time? What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I enjoy my kids? Why wasn't I happy, and why was I so afraid of being a mother?
I still don't fully understand it, but I know I got through it. It took a long time and I'm still healing. There were many people and many things that got me through it. Some days I had to be carried. The struggle was long and hard, and in the end, we all survived. Not only did we survive, but we are stronger because of it. I can't imagine my life turning out any differently than it has, and these experiences have made me thankful for the hard times. The hard times that you never think will hit you, that you never think you'll get through. I'm thankful for the gift of life, the 2 little lives that God has blessed Matt and me with. It wasn't their fault, and it wasn't my fault. It just... was.
So, when my friend posted her struggle, it really struck a nerve in me. I want to help, I want to talk about it. I want to share what I went through and how I got through it. I want to be a part in saving someone else, because I was saved.
The struggles that we endure can make us think that life sucks. They can make us wonder what we've done to deserve them. They can make us wonder why God would let us endure them. Without sounding cliche, He allows these hard times because He knows we can endure them, and there are others out there who need us. Whether we never speak of the trials again or not, we are needed. The struggles come to remind us how precious life is, and how careful we must be with it.
If you're reading this and you or someone you know are or have been affected by PPD or PPS, please reach out. Don't give up. Don't be alone. Hang in there, take it one minute at a time if you have to. Some days, you will have to. The next thing you know, you can take it one day at a time, and then one week. And then, you will be through it. Through it. And you'll have the reality check that I did - it was a gift.
Hannah Grace was born on March 12, 2006. She was an absolutely beautiful baby, and rolled back to front right away on the newborn scale in the delivery room. We knew that she was going to be extra special. I was just shy of my 25th birthday and my husband was just shy of his 29th birthday. Young, first time parents, with their newborn and floating on a cloud... not so much. My husband left the hospital at night so he could get some good sleep in order to be more helpful after I got home with the baby. So it was just me, the baby and the nurses who, I could just say, do this all the time and could have stood to take a course in bedside manner with new, young, first time mothers. I had NO idea what I was doing. I had heard that babies cry a lot when they're newborns, but when Hannah cried that entire first night - all night - I couldn't believe it. I had tried to send her to the nursery because naturally, I was exhausted. They sent her back to me. I was told that I needed to be with my baby and she was crying so much that she was keeping the other babies in the nursery awake. So here I am, a mother of less than 24 hours, standing in my hospital gown, all night long, with a newborn that won't (or can't) stop crying. I cried too... a lot.
When my husband came back the next morning I told him what had happened. He promised to stay with me the second night to help me. The second night was much the same as the first, and now we were 2 stressed out, sleep-deprived first time parents with a baby that won't (or can't) stop crying.
The days and weeks went by, Hannah kept crying. And crying. And crying. Dr. appointments, diet changes for me (I was nursing), formula supplements, Reflux medications, GERD medications, and NO SLEEP. No exercise. Did I mention no sleep? We would send her to the grandparent's for a few hours so Matt & I could rest, go visit friends, get out of the house, shower. They too, sent her back. "Come & get your baby. She won't stop crying and I've tried everything". There were days I would cry so hard and so much, I would take myself out to the driveway, collapse in a ball on the concrete - in front of the car so my husband would have to run me over with it before he could leave me alone with this baby!
I was diagnosed with Situational Postpartum Depression. I was put on medication and my doctor felt that my symptoms would subside when Hannah's did, and that they were (somehow) connected. After 4 months, I returned to work, life went on and now Hannah is almost 5 years old and just as special (or more) as we knew she would be that first day we met her.
3 years later we had Ava. No colic, no reflux, no GERD. She slept well, she ate well, she was always happy. But I wasn't. Again, it hit me. About 4 weeks after she was born I started noticing those nagging, creeping feelings that weren't supposed to be in my head. I got back on medication and this time, started seeing a therapist. Not only had PPD hit me again, but I had another child to care for, and life to live on top of it. It was worse with the second one. Why? She was a great baby. Why was this happening again, and worse this time? What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I enjoy my kids? Why wasn't I happy, and why was I so afraid of being a mother?
I still don't fully understand it, but I know I got through it. It took a long time and I'm still healing. There were many people and many things that got me through it. Some days I had to be carried. The struggle was long and hard, and in the end, we all survived. Not only did we survive, but we are stronger because of it. I can't imagine my life turning out any differently than it has, and these experiences have made me thankful for the hard times. The hard times that you never think will hit you, that you never think you'll get through. I'm thankful for the gift of life, the 2 little lives that God has blessed Matt and me with. It wasn't their fault, and it wasn't my fault. It just... was.
So, when my friend posted her struggle, it really struck a nerve in me. I want to help, I want to talk about it. I want to share what I went through and how I got through it. I want to be a part in saving someone else, because I was saved.
The struggles that we endure can make us think that life sucks. They can make us wonder what we've done to deserve them. They can make us wonder why God would let us endure them. Without sounding cliche, He allows these hard times because He knows we can endure them, and there are others out there who need us. Whether we never speak of the trials again or not, we are needed. The struggles come to remind us how precious life is, and how careful we must be with it.
If you're reading this and you or someone you know are or have been affected by PPD or PPS, please reach out. Don't give up. Don't be alone. Hang in there, take it one minute at a time if you have to. Some days, you will have to. The next thing you know, you can take it one day at a time, and then one week. And then, you will be through it. Through it. And you'll have the reality check that I did - it was a gift.
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