Supporting Heartache

My phone rang and I happily answered it, thinking it was my dear friend Michelle....But instead it was her husband the Stake President, great guy and friend but not Michelle....

Pres.W asked if I would be willing to speak at Stake Leadership and share our family's personal struggle with mental illness.... A physician, social worker and the LDS Family services coordinator would also be included in this training.  He acknowledged the tender subject and asked that I please have Grant's blessing on whatever I felt I should share...then he asked that a participate in a conference call with the Stake presidency and the other three participants, so we would all understand the purpose and desired outcome of the training.  "I'd be happy to do that...."

I hung up and shed a few tears...I was humbled and honoured by the request, but there was also some fear....I'm not a doctor, social worker or counsellor... Will my message be understood without the risk of added shame or judgement...the others would be sharing clinical experience, but my message was personal, the cost higher...

The conference call came in the middle of a crazy Sunday for me, I was emotionally tired and have to admit my dislike of such calls. When you're a visual communicator, not seeing facial expressions and body language is frustrating, but I did know most on the call well and relaxed quickly...

I was instantly touched as the Stake explained their desire for leaders to better support those who struggle with mental illness through compassion, love and understanding. Without the idea of healing. I was suddenly grateful I was on the phone and could easily hide my tears. It was as if all those times of misunderstanding, stigma and shame that have come since Grant's diagnosis were being washed away as these men and woman so kindly expressed their love and compassion for my family and so many others who struggle. Their words, my tears, my tender healing....Oh how I wish everyone who has every struggled with mental illness could have been on that call. Such a gift for me.

A few days later, I woke up with the words I should share leaping from my mind to paper, the worry had mostly subsided as I felt my heavenly fathers help in choosing just the right experiences I should share in my short 5 minutes....

I spoke on Saturday with the most normal pictures of my family now and my family as a child purposely chosen, projected behind me....

Dear Brothers and Sisters it is a privilege to stand before you today and share our family's deeply personal struggle with mental illness, I do so with our Heavenly Fathers help and my husband's blessing and encouragement.

One might say I won the lottery when it comes to mental illness...my mother a gifted teacher battled bipolar disorder her entire adult life, by fifty eight she had lost her independence and cognition, peace never came, the tragic circumstances of her death at 62 we will never fully understand. 

My father an accomplished jazz drummer battled alcohol addiction. As he aged he sank deeper and deeper into its grasps. By 70 he lived in self imposed squallier. When Adult protective services stepped in six years later, we were finally able to get him into care. He died a few weeks later the effects of alcohol, dementia and malnutrition to great to recover from. I miss my mom and dad every single day.

My sweetheart and I married young and our five children came quickly. Looking back over those chaotic first years the signs of Grant’s severe mental illness were everpresent, but it wasn’t until a work injury and a pain killer addiction lead to a manic episode that the heartbreakingly familiar diagnosis of bipolar disorder came. He was 26.

We have waged battled this unforgiving illness ever since with the help of inspired physicians, psychiatrists, clinical counsellors, friends, church leaders and the never-endinglove of our heavenly father.

We know the agony of failed treatments, lost stability. We know that without education and understanding judgement, gossip, shame and stigma do indeed exist even in the church and have at times experienced the added burden of someone else’s ignorance. 

But long ago, while still acknowledging that this illness is adifficult one, we choose not to focus on the negative. 

Some of our sweetest, most sacred moments have come as my sweethearts illness has raged... most have been simple acts of kindness...  

I think of a simple email from our stake president when he knew Grant was struggling. “You are loved, thought of and prayed for.”

I think of the time Grant sent an angry and frustrated email to a church leader. A message the leader could have easily taken offence to. Instead the leader saw the cry for help and simply responded “I hear you, let’s talk”

I think of our new bishop who showed up in a time of need in our home and simply said “Look Grant, I don’t just want to be your bishop, I want to be your friend”  

I think of new home teachers who on their first visit asked 

“Grant please tell us how bipolar disorder effects your life and how we can best support you and your family”

And then they just listened, never once giving a single word of advice...ending our visit with “we are here to love and support you”

I think of the time my dearest friend sent a text message in the middle of Elder Holland’s like a broken vessel talk in General Conference. “Robin, I’m shedding tears for you and Grant and all of those I love who struggle with mental illness” and together we wept.

Leaders and friends do not need to fully understand all the facets of mental illness to be a support to individuals and families. They only need to understand that the compassion and love needed looks no different than the compassion needed for any other heartache, just continue to love them like the Saviour loves you.

Yes I know the sorrow of mental illness in the loss of my parents. Yes my sweet husband’s illness will be our constant companion the rest of our lives. But there is joy in the sorrow. That joy comes in the absolute knowledge that this is part of Heavenly Father’s plan for our family, thatthe atonement is real and that, when Elder Holland’ssays...

“I bear witness of that day when loved ones whom we knew to have disabilities in mortality will stand before us glorified and grand, breathtakingly perfect in body and mind.”

It’s true.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ amen

Such a sweet experience for me. I am so grateful to live in a stake that recognizes and validate our tender struggle. I will be forever grateful for my dear dear friends who truly run to succour us time and time again. 

It's Not About the Snow

It has snowed like crazy since early Friday morning. Well over a foot had fallen before the sun finally made an appearance this afternoon...

Normally there are warnings for days before this much snow comes, but NO. Its like the weather people were completely baffled and we were stuck as real-life characters in Vancouver Island's version of Frozen, for like 96 hours....

Is it ever going to end??

Oh my...this is exactly how I've felt for a while now...and no it has nothing to do with snow, but the snowstorm we just had makes it really easy to explain...

Weeks ago I knew something was up (or down) with my Superman...he was off, but nothing seemed to make sense...a few days turned into weeks and I was baffled by the unexpected storm...

When an expected snow storm hits the island, most islanders retreat to the safety of their homes and stay off the roads, we are completely snow phobic and the rest of Canada mocks our response to snow,

When the storms hit Grant he retreats to the safety of our home, the outside world is nearly impossible to navigate as he battles the overwhelming affects of an uninvited illness. And yes some still judge him...

If you've never lived on the Island when the snow hits, its next to impossible to understand what the snow can actually do to the roads and how quickly they become impassible...

If you've never walked through a raging bipolar storm it's next to impossible to truly understand the difficulty of the road and the need for safety, in what ever form that takes...

Once it's snowed like crazy on the Island, the hills and valleys are only navigable by 4 wheel drives  or snow plows/ special equipment to get through while the storm rages...

To get through while Grant's storm rages, it takes special people. People who have laid a foundation of friendship, love, education and trust long before the storm starts...

And just like us Islanders are thrilled when the snow plow finally reached our road (jumping for joy), how forever grateful I am as I watch those special people run to our rescue with loving and open arms, embracing us in the midst of the storm. Meeting Grant where he is with love and acceptance.

Life on the Island slows down when it slows, life slows down for us when  Grant is struggling...

There is beauty and purity in a snowstorm, there is also a purifying beauty that comes as we witness the tender mercies while Grant struggles...

I know we won't be stuck in Frozen forever, but we will all be grateful when the sun shines again,

Love and Lift

I'm sharing this for my benefit so I can remember what we did and if for anyone who missed it..

We had a visiting teaching conference cleverly disguised as a Relief Society activity this week....sneaky but effective ;) People actually showed up....

I had come across this video a few months ago and decided to focus the entire meeting on its message....

We had musical numbers and speakers 

And I also used the following videos ...

Are We Not All Beggars 

Where Justice, Love and Mercy Meet

I also tied in my favourite Disney song from the Hunchback of Nortre Dame...

God Help the Outcasts   

Relief Society is such a blessing in my life. I love my sisters.

                                       

I still hate piñatas.

Have I ever told you how much I HATE piñatas....yes those cardboard, candy-filled things you swing blindly at, at birthday parties.... Well I hate them and still sense immediate panic if I see one even now. Something about getting bulldozed over one two many times as a party goer, by candy hungry savage fellow grade schoolers, who could care less about the unsteady kid in the mix.....

So yeah I HATE piñatas and totally deprived my offspring of such joys...

For months now I've felt...well like a piñata...

Swinging wildly, getting whacked with one thing or another or another.... Struggle...hurt...struggle...hurt...struggle.

Unexpected. Deeply personal. Private. Difficult. Embarrassing. And because of that all my usual coping strategies...writing, talking to a dear friend, hilarious passive-aggressive Instagram posts...just weren't an option.

Tears. Sorrow. Frustration. Confusion. Hurt.

So many things all at once, I simply couldn't catch my breath... I could feel my courage draining and my faith leaving, that actually scared me...prayers lost as things got so much harder, are you kidding me???

Why???

I spent  months, knowing that no one knew how much I was really hurting.

I felt powerless at the mercy of others choices, anger, and hurt.

"I didn't let all this happen at once to punish you, Robin. I needed to show you the depth of [their] struggle, so you could know best how to love and serve them."

The thought fluttered through my mind and in that moment emotions that had raged for weeks in my troubled heart settled just long enough that I could feel with clarity the purpose behind the chaos.

You needed to know the depth of the struggle, so you can know how to serve them...my answer.

I feel exhausted, but I feel more courage than I've felt in a very long time, to continue trying and that these experiences haven't been in vain.

But I still hate piñatas.

Christmas is hard.

Christmas is a hard one for me... I feel like I run an emotional marathon all of December  trying to convince my heart it should be merry and bright. But try as I might,  joys and sorrows, past and present collide and I'm not sure what I feel, but it's not exactly merry....

Weeks ago I asked Kelli if she had any Christmas pictures from our years as young kids in California, after I couldn't find any in my stuff here....

She found three.  Dad and her; and Kelli and a Smurf (I'm guessing 1981or 82). Me and my Cabbage Patch Astronaut. (1986, maybe).... 

  

 

It's odd to me these are the only Christmas pictures of us... I'm sad that there aren't any Christmas pictures of us as a family....mom, dad, twin daughters, you know, together...I actually only know of two of those pictures in existence....us in Easter dresses at about 3 or 4 years old, sitting on my parents laps and a snapshot twenty years later at Kelli's BYU grad. 

There are happy Christmas memories.....Dad would often bring out his guitar and play Christmas carols and mom spent most of December practicing endless Christmas hymns for special school programs and church services  and Santa always brought us absolutely everything on our lists, every year.

We never spent a Christmas all together after we were nine. 

We lost mom in our twenties and my Dad in our thirties. They had so few Christmases as parents and grandparents. 

Christmas time is when most memories come flooding back of my parents and Christmas is strangely when I miss them the most.

My kids make Christmas joyous and irreverent and bright and hilarious and there are so many happy traditions we now share....but I also mourn a little at Christmas, wishing my parents could still be here and maybe that things could have been just a little different...together maybe. 

Mark.

For years, I've walk by the same gentleman, sitting on a bench, nearly every time I run into the dollar store in our local mall.  He always says hi and I always say a hurried hi in return...

 Tonight he was standing at the mall doors and I watched as several people hurried past him refusing to acknowledge him....

As I got closer to the door,  I heard him say to the woman in front of me, 

"Would you like my Christmas card?

"No no "the woman says as she hurried past him. 

He then looks at me...

"Would you like my Christmas card?"

"Sure, thank you!" I say as I take the white envelope from his out stretched hand....

"Can you bring me a Christmas card too? My name's Mark." 

"Yes, I'd be happy to bring you a Christmas card, its good to meet you Mark."

I hope I'm never to hurried to notice the genuine kindness of another. It is so easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle of the season. Thank you Mark for reminding me of the power of a simple, Merry Christmas, I should have known your name years ago...

Never Needed

I've struggled to make sense of the sadness and frustration I've felt lately....Life has been chaotic and emotions never seem far from the surface. Lots of really hard, personal things all came at once and my heart has struggled to find peace....

Can't you find something to do? Superman said after my second day of talk shows and donuts wrapped up in my duvet....

FINE.

I dragged my sorry-ass down stairs and stared at my sewing closet...Annoyed. Life's so unfair. Why is it always hard. 

Fabric caught my eye, I had set it aside months before....

Remembering the story behind it...

Almost twenty years ago, while Grant and I were in university with three kids under four, I worked part time at a maternity/kids wear store to make ends meet...one evening a young couple brought a little white satin tuxedo to the til to pay for it. "How old is your baby?" the store owner asked as I rang in the purchase.  The very young father replied " He would have been 7 days today" as tears rolled down the mothers cheeks... I have never forgotten those grief stricken faces or how bothered I was that they had to pay for burial clothes for their son....

Months ago after cleaning out all the cupboards in the Relief Society room, the faces of that young couple crossed my mind and I felt strongly that I should make some burial clothing for babies to put in our cupboards. I hadn't gotten to it ...

Well I guess I could tackle those gowns I thought, suddenly humbled.....

So the last two days I've hunkered down in my sewing room, stole a pattern of Pinterest and got to work...

Baby boy 2-4 lbs....

Baby girl 2-4 lbs...

Baby girl 5-8 lbs...

After doing some research...open back with ties was the easiest option for dressing....

I plan to make a few more in different sizes...

My hope is that these gowns are NEVER NEEDED and will stay safely tucked away in our RS cupboards forever....but if needed they are now there.

PS...if anyone is ever aware of a need for burial clothing for a baby I'm more than willing to give these away to anyone or make something suitable, so please let me know.

I'm still really struggling but grateful hard days haven't been totally wasted.