Of Monsters and Pen

 

“Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly

I wanna see you be brave”

Sara Bareilles, Brave

 It was 3:00 am. I couldn’t sleep.

Half an hour ago the baby had woken up, crying.  I soothed her for awhile, kissed her little head, and gently put her back to bed.

I shuffled back to my own bed and lay down, but I couldn’t fall asleep.  My mind raced.  Yesterday had started out as a normal day.  Then one negative experience led to another and another. As the mother, I tried to stay positive and strong, helping my family process emotions. In the end, I, too caved to the negative atmosphere. I had gone to bed hoping to wake to a fresh, new start on a new day, but after the brief awaking, all of the negative thoughts had returned, and wouldn’t leave.

Half an hour later, I got up again.  I needed to take action if I ever wanted to go back to sleep.  Quietly, I snuck into the kitchen, found a pen and a spiral bound notebook, and sat down at the kitchen table.  I opened the notebook.  Most of the pages were filled with small-child doodles.  I found a mostly-blank page and started writing.

If you have read my blog in the past, this probably looks familiar to you. But I can’t over-emphasize the importance of this principle:  If you want to get something out of your head, put it down on paper. It really is that simple.  All of the tools I use are simple, but they only work when I use them.

I am not certain what inspired Edward Bulwer-Lytton to write the words, “The pen is mightier than the sword,” but I have learned that the pen also defeats the negative comments that enter people’s heads.

There are a few important guidelines to note:

1. You must write.  Thinking about the problem will not work.  Thoughts stay in your head and do not leave. Telling another person doesn’t work; even if you feel relieved, you have just slimed somebody else with your muck.  Don’t do that! Use paper and pen. Or something else that writes. Once, when I was on vacation and couldn’t find any paper in the middle of the night, I used my child’s lap-sized dry-erase board. I filled up the board, then started back at the top, writing on top of the words I had already written.  When I got to the bottom, I started over again.
2. Write everything that pops into your head.  Swear words, insults, everything.  You don’t want those things to stay in your head!  If your mind wanders off on a tangent, go with it! Your brain is smart and knows what it needs to de-junk.
3. When you reach a point where there is nothing left, wait a minute.  Keep your pen on the paper.  Sometimes your brain will start spitting out something else.  Write it down.  I recommend pushing through at least two “pauses” to make sure you get it all out.
4. When your head is finally empty, get rid of the junk!  My kids love to burn their papers; its fun to watch fire destroy all of that negative yuck, sending it out to oblivion.  But tearing the paper into little pieces and throwing it away is also effective.

This process usually takes me about fifteen minutes.  Then I can go back to sleep without a problem.  I also use this tool when I am mad at somebody and need to vent before I can communicate calmly.  It works like a charm.

Are you ready for a deeper level?

I have slowly been sharing the process I used to conquer Depression.  Well, using the Write-and-Burn method to destroy negative thoughts was another key tool.

I experienced many bumps on the road to complete healing.  I expected bumps would occur, but one day in particular was very bad.  My family had left for a while, and I sat alone in my bedroom, swarmed with self-defeating thoughts.  Actually, I sat in the bottom of my closet, the most isolated and closed off place I could find.  The negative thoughts shot at me like fiery darts; I could feel them hitting my head.  I was crying.  I was screaming and pulling my hair, desperately trying to yank those awful thoughts and images out of my head.  I needed help, but I was alone. From somewhere deep in the back of my mind, one hopeful thought started to rise: I knew that if I could get these awful thoughts down on paper, I could get them out of my head. 

My legs and arms felt like lead as I forced myself to open the door and crawl out of the closet. It took immense effort to crawl through the bathroom, back into my bedroom, and open the drawer to the nightstand.  I pulled out a pen and notebook (are you picking this up? Keep a notebook and pen next to your bed).  I sat on the floor, and opened the notebook.  Words would not come.  I was so overwhelmed with the awful thoughts and images that I could not even form words with my hand.  I was still crying.  I could not create words, so I began to draw the images in my head. 

My hand moved across the page, blue ink flowing from the movements.  A monster took shape on the paper: a big, scary dragon, breathing fire. I am no artist, and you will not see my drawing in a museum, but pulling that thing out of my head and imprisoning him on the paper freed the rest of my mind.  When I saw the scary beast, and realized he was no longer inside of me, I took my pen and scribbled him out with deep strokes that tore through several pages. I ripped him up and threw the pieces in the trash can.  Then, I was able to take my notebook and write words.  Every negative thought, every fiery dart, went down on the paper until there was nothing left.  I shredded them all, and tossed them in the trash. The garbage truck took them away, and all of those awful thoughts and images have decomposed and dissipated back into the earth, never to be seen again.

Dear friends, after more than a decade of fighting that monster, that was the last time he ever tried to get me to end my own life. I beat him! He is out of my head forever! I still have more to share about healing completely, but I want you to know that 80 percent of it is capturing and destroying the negative comments that pop into your head.  I have shared with you two very simple, and very effective tools for doing this: 1. capturing a negative thought and turning it around into a positive one (see this post), and 2. Write and burn.

So many people on this planet are being pounded with negative thoughts. The goal of the Adversary is to make each person feel so bad about himself that he will isolate himself from people who can help him.  Then, when he is alone, those negative comments try to convince him to take himself off of the planet.

Please, fight back! The tools, the weapons are easy to use.  Teach them to other people.  We are fighting a very real war with a very real Adversary.  If you don’t believe it, go write that lie down on paper and destroy it.  Because, You are under attack. 

“But this much I can tell you, that if ye do not watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds, and observe the commandments of God, and continue in the faith of what ye have heard concerning the coming of our Lord, even unto the end of your lives, ye must perish. And now, O man, remember, and perish not.” Mosiah 4:30

An opportunity!

To those who read my blog: This weekend I am attending the same seminar that, three years ago, got me started on the road to healing from depression. The information and skills I received at this seminar are invaluable to me, not just because they helped me heal from depression, but because they have helped me in every aspect of life, including financial success and family strengthening. Often at these seminars, students receive an offer to invite friends to the next one at a discounted rate. If you are interested in attending "Master Your Influence" in February (In Salt Lake City), I would love to share this opportunity with you! Please send me an email at thenattymomblog@gmail.com and I will give you the details when I receive them! (To learn more about Kirk Duncan and his classes, visit 3keyelements.com).

Imprisoned!

“Change the voices in your head

Make them like you instead.”

Pink, Perfect

One morning, not too long ago, I stood in the shower, relishing the hot water massage on my head.  I thought about all of the things I do to maintain my mental health (which I will share in the next few posts).  It occurred to me that if other people knew about all of my habits, they might think I was crazy.  I laughed as I realized that it’s all the crazy stuff I do that keeps me sane!

            Today I will stray from my typical narration and present this tool straight out.  With pictures.  Do you want to get rid of the negative voices in your head that keep trying to tear you down, or ruin your relationships, or hold you back from success? Go invest in a spiral-bound notebook; you know the type—they go on sale for 15 cents at grocery stores in the month of August. Make it black, because this is your Dot-People Prison.  

Open up to the first page and draw a line, vertically (hot-dog bun style) down the middle.

On the left side of the page, write down the voices.  Just for now, stick to the ten most persistent negative thoughts that go through your head every day.  Here is the key:  To get a voice out of your head, you must put it down on paper. I know it sounds simplistic, but it really is that easy.  The hardest part is just doing it, because there is a voice that says, “It’s too easy.  It won’t work.” Or, “I’ll do it later.” “I’m too tired.”  Etcetera. Just give it a try!

 

Now, a negative voice is a liar.  Those evil foes do not want you to know the real truth about you, so they try to convince you the opposite is valid.  Look at the first negative thought you wrote down.  On the right side of your paper, across from that negative thought, write down it’s opposite: for example, if the negative thought is “I am worthless,” then the opposite is, “I am valuable.”  But don’t stop there; for each negative voice, write down two positives:  “I am Valuable” and “I am of infinite worth.”

Do this for each of the ten negative voices.

Now, read through each sentence you wrote on the right side of your paper. If you listen closely, you can hear the messages of truth that your Higher Power is whispering to you.  Read your list again, out loud. Do it every morning when you wake up, and every night before you go to bed.

May I share one experience I had using this tool?  For most of my adult life, I believed I was ugly. Sure, I could spruce myself up and look pretty, sometimes, but I was convinced that, in general I was an unattractive person.  When I looked in the mirror, I heard voices, disguised as my thoughts, pointing out every “ugly” feature on my body; “I am fat”. “My hair is thin and stringy.” “I have acne.” “My nose is too big.” “My skin is blotchy.” And so on. There seemed no end to the list of things I should hate about my body. 

Can you imagine what that did to my marriage? If my husband complimented me, “You look beautiful,” I either thought he was a fool or he wanted something from me.  This led to, “He doesn’t really think I’m beautiful, he only wants me for my body.”  Which led to, “He doesn’t really care about me.” Then I started resenting him; "The only reason he is washing dishes is to get something from me later." I was angry at him for things he never did! It’s a vicious, downward spiral, ultimately ruining wonderful marriages when remained un-checked.

When I finally learned where the thoughts contributing to this vicious spiral came from, I imprisoned them in my black spiral notebook, replaced them all with positive statements, and declared them out loud until I believed them. “I am beautiful.  My husband sees my beauty.  He loves me for who I am. He cares about me. I am important to him.”  These statements were true all along, but I was blinded to the truth because I had listened to the same negative voices, over and over, for years.  

Now that I don't hear those voices anymore, I accept my husband's compliments gratefully.  I believe him when he tells me I am beautiful.  I believe that he sincerely loves and cares about me.  I trust him. I feel safe and comfortable with him. We are happier than we have ever been.

Once in a while one of those old negative thoughts pops into my head.  Do you want to know what I do, then?  I tell it to “Get Lost!”  I now know that those thoughts do not come from me or my Higher Power, and I refuse to listen. I have a wonderful marriage. I have self-confidence. I am starting to see myself as my Higher Power sees me.

I learned this tool three years ago, and I still have my black notebook.  I still use it to imprison negative voices. So far I have imprisoned over 250, and I’m sure I’ll be able to imprison another 250 in the next three years!

How many negative voices are in your head? How do they affect your self-confidence?  Your relationships?  Your family?  Your success?

What would happen if you got rid of those voices?  There's an easy way to do it. Are you willing to give it a try?

 "And his servants came near, and spake unto him, and said My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it? How much rather then, when he saith to thee, Wash and be clean?" 2 Kings 5:13

"O my son, do not let us be slothful because of the easiness of the way..." Alma 37:46

Invisible

“There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back”
 Of Monsters and Men, Little talks

            People naturally believe any thought that pops into his or her head.  And why not?  Aren’t thoughts the products of our brains? Our brains wouldn’t lie to us, would they?  Imagine the destructive possibilities if someone invented a weapon that could put thoughts into people’s heads.  Thoughts that people naturally assume are true because they believe those thoughts came from themselves.

            Back in November, 2011, I attended a three day seminar presented by Kirk Duncan. I mentioned this seminar in a previous post.  This was one of those things I did because I just felt I needed to do it.  I learned about it from Mandy-Marie; this was the same seminar at which, three months previously, she found the last piece of her healing puzzle.  I was just starting to put my puzzle together, and something inside of me convinced me that I would discover some big keys at this seminar.

            Andrew and I reserved a hotel room for a couple of nights, persuaded Grandma and Grandpa to entertain the children, and headed up to Salt Lake City.  I had heard rave reviews about “Master Your Influence”, as that particular seminar was called, but I wasn’t really sure what to expect.

            I held on to Andrew’s hand as we entered the hotel where the Seminar was being held.  I never did feel comfortable in big crowds, and I was glad to have my husband there to be my comfort.  We registered, put on our name tags, and entered a large room. Most of the several hundreds of chairs were already occupied, so we chose a couple of seats near the back.

The atmosphere bubbled with anticipation as the latest pop music blared from speakers placed strategically around the room. We made small talk with the people next to us, then finally, a lady, dressed in black, stood up on stage with a microphone to introduce our presenter.  The crowd cheered as Kirk ran up on stage, sporting a grey business suit and a big smile.  I caught the positive spirit, and clapped and whooped along. It was fun.  Kirk was fun.  The people in the room were fun.  And I was having fun.

On the right side of the stage stood a giant Post-It-Note pad on an easel. Kirk drew pictures on it to illustrate principles from time to time. I sat in my seat after lunch, and watched as he took a large, black marker and drew a stick figure in the middle of the pad. On either side of the stick figure, he drew two more, only instead of using solid lines, he used broken, dotted lines.  Dotted, he said, because we cannot see them.

The figure on the left represented an invisible person who whispered negative things into my head; “You are ugly.  You are worthless.  You can’t do anything right.”  The figure on the right represented an invisible person who whispered positive things into my head: “You look beautiful.  You are a wonderful mother. You are valuable.”

As I listened, a lightbulb flashed on inside of my head. Suddenly, I saw the whole good versus evil concept in a tangible way. Existing around me were beings who were fighting over my mind.  They couldn’t hurt me by touching me, necessarily, but they could convince me to hurt myself, if I let them.  I had always believed in a higher power, God, as I refer to him.  I have also always believed in an adversarial power, which I call Satan. Both forces, God and Satan, want me to listen to them.  God, who loves me, wants me to follow his guidance so I can be happy and eventually live with him after this life.  Satan, on the other hand, seeks my destruction, and would love to use me as a weapon to destroy others. Even this was not new.  What was new to me, and switched on the light bulb in my mind, was that both forces were engaged in a battle over my mind.  On the one hand, the evil voices whispered negative thoughts into my head.  It was them, not me, who were trying to convince me that I was ugly, worthless and couldn’t do anything right! On the other hand, I had God supporting me, whispering to me truths about myself:  I am beautiful, wonderful, and valuable.  God was my creator, and as so, he was the being who whispered divine truths into my head.  All the other thoughts, those which I had been listening to, the thoughts that dragged me down and made me feel lousy about myself, came not from me, but from the evil voices of Satan.

Which voice did I want to listen to?  That question was easy to answer; of course I wanted to listen to the voice of truth, the voice which told me good things and made me feel good about myself! The problem was that the negative voices were so persistent! How could I get rid of them?  Was that possible?

Of course it was!  Kirk shared with me, and everyone else in attendance, the tools to imprison the negative voices, and strengthen my ability to hear the good voices. I will share those tools in the next few posts.

“ …and thus he whipereth in their ears, until he grasps them with his awful chains, from whence there is no deliverance.”  2 Nephi 28:22

Magic

 

“If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to”

Anna Nalick Breathe (2am)

What do you call your higher power?  I call him God, Lord, or Heavenly Father. Perhaps you call your higher power by a different name.  If so, please feel free to substitute that name as I share my experience with you.  If you don’t have a higher power, maybe it is time for you to find one.

That night, I left my sister-in-law’s house with something new to try. 

Andrew and I helped the children into their pajamas, offered an evening prayer, and tucked them into bed. Finding a few quiet moments to myself, I thought I’d give Mandy-Marie’s suggestion a try. Switching on the overhead light to my bedroom, I quietly shut the door. I walked over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out the pen and notebook I kept tucked inside. I sat down on the floor, opened the notebook to the first blank page and started writing.

Perhaps the tears came before I started writing.  Perhaps they waited until the first thought found its way to the paper. It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is this: I took the burdens from inside my head and transferred them to the paper. Everything that popped into my head, I wrote down.  I just let the words flow through the pen until nothing was left. And then I waited, pen still on the paper. It seemed my brain got stuck for a moment, pausing. I waited for a minute or two, until another flood of thoughts found its way to the tip of my pen. All of the worries, heart-aches, and stress, turned into words, I copied into the notebook.

I had tried similar techniques when I had gone to therapy. There seemed to be magic in writing down plaguing thoughts, transferring the negative 'junk' I held inside to something tangible outside: words on paper.

The next step was new to me, though. I looked at the pages I had written, spread them open on my bed and knelt down. I folded my hands over the paper and commenced a sincere, heart-felt prayer.

 “Dear Heavenly Father,” I began. “Thank you for Mandy-Marie.  Thank you for something new to try. Tonight I have written down all of the burdens I am carrying.  I am struggling with depression.  I can’t do it on my own.  It is too hard.  Will You please take this burden from me?  I don’t want it anymore. I will give it to you, if you will take it.”

As I closed the prayer, I felt a sense of peace.  My heart still ached, but my mind felt calm.  Then, I did the last thing Mandy-Marie had instructed me to do: I took the pages on which I had written all of the burdens, ripped them out of the notebook, and tore them into hundreds of little pieces.  Oh, it felt good! As if I was saying, “So long!” to all of those heavy burdens forever.

After chucking the paper pieces into the trash can, I climbed into bed and turned out the light.

The next morning, as I woke up, I listened to the birds chirping outside. I enthusiastically thought about jumping out of bed and making breakfast for my children.  I felt happy.  The depression was gone. The sad, achy, dragging, tired feelings I had been experiencing, had simply disappeared. My heart felt light. I felt energetic again. God had taken the burden from me! Mandy-Marie’s advice had worked.

It wasn’t the end of my battle with depression, but it proved to be the end of that episode.

I now had a new tool to use to fight the depression monster: writing down the negative thoughts in my head, taking them to God in prayer, and shredding them. How simple, yet how effective!

“Behold also the ships, which though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth.”

                                                                        James 3:4

 “By small means the Lord can bring about great things.”

                                                            1 Nephi 16:29

The Beginning of the Miracle

            I felt happy as I sat in the grass on that summer evening.  I had missed these Sunday evening get-togethers with Andrew’s siblings and cousins, and it was nice to be back, having lived hundreds of miles away for several years. 

            That particular evening, I sat with my Sister-in-law, Mandy-Marie, and other relatives, as she shared her latest life-changing experiences. 

I had looked up to Mandy-Marie from the time I met her. From parenting advice and books, to Bed-and-Breakfast recommendations for much needed marriage getaways, she was my mentor—someone who walked life’s paths just a few steps ahead of me, and succeeded.

That night, I listened intently as Mandy-Marie explained how, over the last few years, she had been seeking natural ways to treat Depression.  She had learned about gut-health, something we had talked about before.  Altering her diet to fit her body’s needs had gone a long way in managing Depression, but there was still something missing.  She explained how, while attending a seminar, she had found the last piece of the healing puzzle. 

Something awoke inside of me.  Ten years had passed since I was diagnosed with Major Depression.  I struggled with it’s symptoms off and on since I was a teenager, and finally sought professional help around my twenty-third birthday.

At this time I do not think it’s necessary to share the details of my own battle with depression; if you haven’t experienced it yourself, chances are you have witnessed someone close to you who has.  It isn’t pretty, and unfortunately can be a tragic battle.  Suffice it to say, I, like so many others, battled the Depression Monster.

Seven months of therapy and anti-depressant medication proved an effective treatment.  I returned to a fulfilling, happy life, married a wonderful man and started a family.  The next decade passed with only occasional depressive episodes. I felt lucky that my body responded so quickly and positively to medication.  I did not experience side-effects, and I was quite content to keep taking medication for the rest of my life.

Then, that summer evening, as I listened to my Sister-in-law speak with power and confidence, I felt a longing for something more.  What was it?  I could not figure it out right away.  She had something that I didn’t.  Something.  It wasn’t about medicine.  I was quite calm and happy with the medicine I took.  But she had something else that my body ached for.  She spoke with confidence and Power.  She had a sense of…Freedom!  That was it. I knew that’s what I longed for: Freedom.

Freedom from what?

That was the question that consumed my thoughts for the following days.  Exactly What was I seeking Freedom from?

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself struggling with yet another Depressive Episode.  Sadness and discouragement prevailed in my thoughts.  I felt tired.  I dragged through each day.  I knew the familiar symptoms.  I faithfully took my medication, without relief. 

Once again I found myself at Mandy-Marie’s house one evening. Like so many others battling Depression, I hid my symptoms in public.  I put on an obligatory smile and contributed to seemingly shallow conversation. Then, in a private moment, she asked how I was doing. Tears poured from my eyes as the ache in my heart burst.

“I’m having another episode,” I confessed.  I couldn’t even identify the trigger this time.  Looking back, I believe that depressive episode was one of God’s Tender Mercies so I could have the conversation that followed:

Mandy-Marie led me to a room where we could talk privately.  She opened the scriptures and shared with me a story I had read more than a dozen times.  It’s a story about a small group of righteous people who were discovered by wicked men.  The wicked men enslaved them and placed heavy burdens on their backs.  As the righteous people raised their voices in prayer to God, He heard their prayers, and gave them strength to bear their burdens with ease.

But the story didn’t end there.  Finally, a day came when God decided to deliver his people from their oppressors.  He caused the wicked men to fall into a deep sleep.  The righteous people escaped, and after traveling several days in the wilderness came to a land where a good king and his people welcomed them. Those who had been delivered lifted up their voices in praise of God, who had delivered them.

Suddenly I saw my battle with Depression in a new light.  I was still its slave.  Up to this point, God had eased my burden with medication.  Oh, how I was grateful for that ease! But perhaps that was not how God intended my story to end; here was my friend and mentor, suggesting that maybe it was time to be delivered from the monster which held me captive. Perhaps my journey was not just to endure the burden until life’s end; perhaps God desired to heal me so that I could testify of his goodness and power.

Then she shared with me the first tool I needed to begin the healing journey.
(To be continued...)
(Note...I realize my last post was titled, "The First Tool."  To avoid confusion with this and the next few posts, I have changed the title to "Fortify Your Mind" It is not a continuation of this discussion.)

Fortify Your Mind

Every so often, and sometimes quite often, I converse with mothers of children older than mine. They empathize with my “up all night with a crying baby” stories, and then follow up with, “I remember those days,” or “I’m glad I’m not there, anymore.”  Occasionally I get, “Enjoy every minute; they grow up so fast.”  That’s when I think, “Seriously? Enjoy every minute?  Can’t I just take a shower without someone screaming at me?”

Truthfully, I don’t enjoy every minute. Motherhood is hard.  It is sacrifice after sacrifice after sacrifice.  And mothers of young children need more than sympathy and nostalgic suggestions.  They need tools to help them thrive, not just survive, the years of sleepless nights and constant demands. So, to mothers, and to all people, I share with you my first tool:

Tool #1:  Fortify your mind

A couple of years ago I attended Master of Influence, a three day seminar taught by Kirk Duncan. I paid about $150, but what I learned was priceless: I could control the thoughts that came into my head every day.  As the mother of, then, four young children, I did my best to love and nurture my family, and honestly, I did a good job.  Still, like many mothers, I listened to the negative voices that spoke to me.  “I am ugly.”  “I am a lousy mother.” “I am unlovable.” “My children would be better off with a different mother.”  Do any of these sound familiar? 

Until I attended the seminar, I believed that whatever I thought was truth. But Kirk taught me that the thoughts I had been listening to were lies, and that if I turned them around, I would hear truth.  According to his instruction, I took a piece of notebook paper, and folded it in half so I had a left side and a right side.  On the left side, I wrote down the negative thoughts I had been hearing.  “I am ugly.”  Next line:  “I am a lousy mother.”  Next line: “I am unlovable.” And so on.  Then, on the right side of the paper, I wrote down the opposite of the negative thought:  “I am beautiful.”  “I am a wonderful mother.”  “I am lovable.” And so forth.  Additionally, instead of just writing one positive thought for each negative, I wrote two positives for each negative:  “I am beautiful.  I am gorgeous.”  “I am a wonderful mother.  My children are lucky to have me.”  “I am lovable.  People love to be around me.”

            Once I had written down positive responses for every negative thought, I ripped the paper in half along the fold, shredded the piece with the negative thoughts, and tossed it in a trash can.  (Try it; it’s very empowering to destroy your negative thoughts!)

            Finally, I took the list of positive thoughts and taped them on my wall next to my bed.  After that, every morning when I got out of bed, I looked at my list of positive affirmations and said them aloud to myself. It didn’t matter if other people believed them.  It didn’t even matter if I didn’t believe them, yet. By reciting these positive affirmations every day, they sunk into my brain until I believed them.  Not just that; I became them. I saw a beautiful reflection in the mirror.  I saw the evidence that I was a wonderful mother, and became even more so.  I felt others’ love for me.  I  loved myself.

            My mind became strong.  When negative thoughts tried to sneak in, I told them to go away, because I knew they were lying to me.

            I added to my affirmations from time to time, and discovered I had the power to change my thoughts about anything: people, situations, even my desires.  And when thoughts change, actions change.  When actions change, results change.

The tasks of motherhood have not changed, but my ability to perform them with positive power has intensified.  I don’t just survive; I thrive! Such a simple tool. Such amazing results.

            Mothers, you are powerful. You are beautiful. You are capable. You are valuable. Go on; say it to yourself right now.  It's truth.

Resources:

Kirk Duncan is the founder of

 3 Key Elements

Two Mountains (an original poem by me, Natalie)

In my home

Two mountains tower,

Formidable, daunting,

Hour by hour:

Sort the colors,

Wash, then dry.

Fold, put away,

The first mount is nigh.

Another mount,

Another feat:

Set, eat, clear,

Scrub, dry, repeat.

They vary in size

From small to tall,

But rarely

Never there at all.

I dig and dig;

They grow and grow

Sometimes fast

And sometimes slow.

Sometimes one,

Sometimes the other,

Sometimes

Both of them together.

Mount Dish-everest

Mount St. Laundry

Ever present

For every Mommy.

The At-Least Game

4:35 am.  A hoarse whimper resonates through the monitor.  I don’t open my eyes.  “Maybe she’ll go back to sleep,” I hope.  Another cry, a little stronger.  I roll out of bed, and my feet hit the floor.  They ache.  They almost feel swollen, like I’d hiked Mt. Timpanogus the day before. 

I walk to the baby’s room, and the dim night light casts a blue glow. Sally is standing, holding on to the crib rail.  She sees me and her face wrinkles as she lets out another hoarse wail.  The poor thing.  I scoop her up in my arms and she buries her face in my shoulder, smearing boogers across my T-shirt. “At least her fever is still down,” I think.

It started nine days ago. Monday morning.  I was visiting with a couple of friends as our kids scattered toys in the living room.  I happened to mention how happy I was that my family was healthy for Christmas this year.  Three hours later a child was running a fever.

             

            I settle into my recliner and try to snuggle my baby.  She pushes away.  Her little nose runs like a leaky faucet, so I get up and walk across the room, grab a tissue, and wipe.  I pick up the box of tissues and sit back down in the recliner.  I hide the tissues between my hip and the armrest, but Sally has already spotted them.  She reaches down and grabs a handful of tissues.  She reaches with her other hand and grabs another handful.  At least she is happy.

By Friday, I was nursing four feverish children round the clock.  The doctor analyzed the symptoms and declared we probably had the flu. The flu, as in Influenza.  The illness we hoped our flu-shots would prevent. At least Andrew is able to take a few days off to help me care for the sick kids.  

            That evening, as Andrew and I were getting ready for bed, we heard a seal barking. The familiar croup sound came from the girls’ room.  I gathered up my little baby-seal-girl, gave her the next dose of ibuprofen, and prepared to take her outside to let the frigid air work its magic.  Just then, we heard another faint crying.  Andrew went to investigate, and came back holding a frightened little boy, who sobbed in between wheezing and barking.

            “Should I go get a couple of chairs?” Andrew inquired.

            “Sure!” I responded.  “We’ll make it a party!”

            A few minutes later, the four of us sat bundled up on the front porch, snuggled in blankets, watching the stars.  “If we have to be up with croup tonight,” I thought, “At least we can be up together.”

            It’s a game I learned several months back. I saw it on a Facebook post:  some-number-of-things-I-learned-when… This particular suggestion stuck with me, and I tried it.  I call it the “At Least” game.  When I find myself in a frustrating situation, I say “At least…” and think of something for which I can be grateful at that moment. It helps me focus on the positive. It helps me stay calm through challenging tasks. After all, it could always be worse, right?

            It is now 5:20.  Sally has lost interest in the tissues.  Her drippy nose has settled down for the time being, and she sucks her two middle fingers as she rests her little head on my chest.  I slowly stand up, clutching my little daughter, and quietly carry her back to her room.  The humidifier hums softly as I place her in her crib and tuck the blankets around her.

            I tiptoe back to my own room and slip beneath the covers.  “At least she didn’t stay up very long,” I think. And within seconds, I am sound asleep.

I Changed My Wants!

      During a therapeutic journaling session a few months ago, I came to the conclusion that there are two things I wanted right then: a good night's sleep and a clean house. I immediately became discouraged, realizing that I wouldn't have either anytime soon. Since then, every time I thought about how much I wanted sleep and a clean house, I felt depressed.
       Then, a couple of weeks ago, I decided I needed to change what I want, since what I wanted was not making me happy. After some thought, I decided that I was going to want, instead, emotionally healthy and spiritually strong children. Every time the previous "wants" popped into my head, I recited, "No, I don't want that. I want this."
       It took a couple of days, but I really changed my wants. And you know what? I am so much happier now! I still wouldn't mind a good night sleep and a clean house, but I am no longer troubled by their absence. When the baby wakes eight times a night due to a new tooth, instead of feeling angry that she woke me, I feel love and compassion for her. Instead of fuming over the crumbs left on the table and floor, I remember that my children are still just children; they are still learning, and I love them more than I dislike their messes.
Now, I realize that ultimately my children determine how they will turn out. But the point is, I am being proactive about my own happiness and well-being, rather than focusing on what I cannot have. And that small change has made a huge difference. For my entire family.

Thoughts on Andrew

      At one point in what's considered my adult life, I learned that when God says "Do", I don't ask "Why", but "How". So when a fifth little spirit whispered, "It's my turn," I prayed for courage to do it again.
       It didn't take many times to realize that pregnancy is my great trial in life, despite doctors and nurses and midwives and well-meaning friends. I don't know why God keeps sending me little spirits, while I am surrounded by friends who would give their right arm to have just one.
I don't know all the "why's", but I've learned a little about the "how's." Among them is #1, I married a good man. I knew he was good when I married him, but that's another essay. These pregnancies have been challenging for him, too. He could write his own essay on that.
Last night as he climbed into bed next to me at a crazy early hour (I don't do late, or even normal nights), and said, "Let's play 101 things I love about Natalie," I smiled.
       Day after day he arrives home from work to a mountain of dirty dishes, kids still needing help with homework, toys and chaos everywhere, and an almost vegetable-like wife (of the potato variety: you know, one of the really round kind) on the couch. Okay, not everyday. Some days I do get a simple dinner made, and on rare occasions I'll get the kids to clean up their toys and empty the dishwasher. But yesterday it was paper plates and pasta for dinner, with three loads of laundry piled on the couch. And me, nauseated, shuffling around in a zombie-like manner, attempting to function.
       So when he started his list, "You are beautiful," my brain seized. Washing my hair takes so much energy I need a nap afterward. I don't shower every day. Applying make-up? Only on days that I feel a surge of energy: hardly ever. And yet, he stills sees the beautiful me. The one that's really me. Not the zombie-creature.
       "You still have great legs." Here I agree with him. Whatever else pregnancy and sickness do to my body, I still have great legs. They are my best feature.
       "You are goblin craft." What the--? Turns out this is an analogy about the quality of goblin-made weapons from Harry Potter. Quality, able to absorb the strength of other materials. I apply the good principles I learn from others.
       And on and on. I don't know how far he got before I dozed off. ("Gracious" probably did not make it.) Not 101, but a pretty good list.
       Here is the man who has become the Dad and the Mom. Whose own needs go unmet. And yet, he still rubs my feet, knowing it won't lead anywhere other than rubbing my feet. He rubs my back and runs his fingers through my hair. He sits with me while I cry because I am frustrated and want a break from the never-ending yucky. He does not criticize. Does not tell me it's all in my head or that I should take a Prozac.
       If one of God's "why's" to rotten pregnancies was to teach my husband to be unselfish, loving, self-sacrificing, and patient, it's done. Lesson learned.
       What I DO know, is that when I ask "how" I'm supposed to accomplish what seems to be an impossible task, there he is: a little bit of God in the face of the man who loves me.

Anniversary Morning

            Exhausted, I cracked an eye open.  Light streamed in through the window above my head.  I glanced over at the baby.  How long had she been smacking her lips?  She spotted my face and let out a hungry squawk.  I scooped up the tiny little person and began to nurse. 

Gradually, my brain emerged from its sleepy fog and I could hear the other children in the kitchen.  “What time is it?” I wondered.  I hoped we weren’t late for school.  Carefully, so as not to disturb munchkin’s breakfast, I craned my neck around to look at the clock on the night stand.  “7:11; make a wish,” the childhood phrase popped through my head.  That should be plenty of time.

Andrew had only been gone for two days and I was already scraping for an extra dose of energy to survive the next four. 

A minute later, someone knocked on the bedroom door.

“You can come in,” I called.

The door opened just enough for Martin’s head to poke through. “Mom, can you stay in bed? We want to bring you breakfast in bed.”

Did I hear right?  I must still be dreaming.

“You want to bring me breakfast in bed?” I repeated.  “Sure, I can stay here!”

And the door closed.

As the baby continued her rhythmic sucking, I pondered, “What could have gotten into the kids this morning?  Why were they being so nice to me?”

Another knock on the door. 

“Come in.”

This time the door flew open and James hopped in, holding up what appeared to be two or three pieces of copy paper taped together.  He stood in the middle of the room, beaming.  I realized he was waiting for me to notice something on his hand-made banner, but I couldn’t see a thing.

“Oh, I wish I had my glasses on so I could see it!” I said.

Understanding, he explained, “It says ‘Happy Anniversary!’” and ran out of the room.

A light bulb clicked on in my head.  It’s May 1^st, my wedding anniversary.  How sweet of the children to remember, and to want to celebrate!

By this time, the baby had finished her meal. She let out a satisfied belch and I gently placed her on the bed.  Again, the bedroom door flung open.  I grabbed at the bedside table and, finding my glasses, I placed them on my face.  Martin stood next to the bed holding a cookie sheet. On it sat a plate piled high with scrambled eggs.  He must have cooked at least half a dozen.  I made a place on the bed for the cookie sheet and properly expressed amazement and gratitude.  Luke, who had followed Martin in, climbed up on the bed.  He obviously wanted to share my feast. He clearly needed a diaper change, too.  Oh, well.

James appeared at my bedside with another cookie sheet holding another plate.  He had sliced pieces of grapefruit for me. Mmmm.  I love a good, ripe, pink grapefruit. I took the grapefruit plate and placed it next to the scrambled eggs.

Next, Mary entered with yet another cookie sheet and a plate of toast. She also remembered the knife, fork and spoon.  Ah, my wonderful, thoughtful daughter, who surely instigated the entire scheme.

I thanked my children for the breakfast.  I kissed the ones I could reach. I gave Luke the first two bites of scrambled egg.  And I realized I am the luckiest Mom in the whole wide world.

Happy 12^th Anniversary, my wonderful husband.