Vulnerable

I care about what others think. It doesn’t often influence my actions but it can influence how I decide to feel about myself. Sometimes my personal opinions, beliefs and actions-though right and good in my mind-might expose me to ridicule or harsh judgment from others. That’s the way it will always be in life for everyone.

I’ve never been good at letting things roll off my shoulders. I replay unfair events in my head long after they happen, which only serves to rile me up again. I’m not good at shaking off the hurt. But I have gotten much better at it over the years.

In part, I have this blog to thank for that. On June 27th I hit my two year blogging mark. When I started blogging I never had the intention of creating a venue for sharing my innermost thoughts. But that is what it has become, and most of the time I don’t mind. Occasionally though I’ll find myself thinking discouraging thoughts like, ‘What you wrote the other day is so stupid’ or ‘That comment was nice but I’m sure she didn’t really mean it.’

In short no matter how hard I try, I feel vulnerable at times. But I’m not going to stop sharing just because I suspect there might be someone out there mocking me. As I said in a previous post, “I learned that much of what I think others must be thinking of me, is based on my perception of myself.” Of course, not everyone that comes across my blog is going to appreciate my poetry or frankness about mental illness, but I think there may be some who will.

Today I’ll share a piece of poetry I wrote around age 17. It was not too long after the suicide of a friend, and you can be sure I’ll be writing more about my experiences around that in the future. At the time I wrote this poem, I was feeling not only hope but love. I wanted to reach out to others who might be struggling with the same suicidal tendencies I had, and urge them on. As I wrote, I relived the seeming eternity a person spends as they contemplate whether to get it over with now and just how to do so. That moment that you linger between the choice to live or succumb is filled with conflicting thoughts, all so clearly screaming their case inside your head.

This poem-I realized as I wrote it-was written for my past self. It’s God’s voice trying to sway me to live. It’s what I believe He truly does feel.

Live!
by Summer Owens

I’ve been where you stand.
I’ve felt just the same.
Forsaken you feel,
Though I call your name.

Search your mind deeper,
You’ll hear me cry out.
I’m there with you always,
Can’t you hear me shout?

Child don’t come home yet,
You’ve to much to do!
Your life has a purpose,
I’m counting on you!

Though things appear dim now,
I know that you’re strong.
Through desolate feelings,
I’ll help you along.

My hand’s always reaching,
My faith in you, stout.
Follow my voice and
You’ll find our way out.

Does he really have to grow up?

Conversations with Obi Wan:

“You break my heart mom.”

“I do?”

“Yeah!”

“But what did I do?”

“You maked me so happy”

“Oh, well then I don’t think I broke your heart. If I break your heart that means I make you sad. But if I melt your heart than that means I make you happy.”

“Oh. Well den my heart is melting cause I love you so much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I like girls!”

“How interesting son.”

“I like you.

“Well, I like you too.”

“Someday I’m gonna marry you mama”

* insert my melting heart here*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s daddy making for dinner mom?”

“Pasta.”

“Pasta?!? EWWWWW!”

“Pasta is good buddy.”

“No it’s not. It tastes like, like, Apple Pie!!”

*Obi Wan loathes apple pie, so anything he thinks tastes bad is compared to it. I have no idea why he hates apple pie so much*

Super Paper Mario Cake

I was introduced to the world of video gaming when I was seven. Super Mario Brothers was the first game I played and I still love any game with the Mario brothers in it. I’ve evidently passed my enjoyment of gaming down to my sons - Obi Wan requested a Mario cake for his birthday. I envisioned Super Paper Mario jumping up to hit a coin block, and it turned out just the way I pictured:

Can you believe my second is 6? How do they go from babies to school aged so fast?

Tainted Perception

If you’ve been around this blog long enough, you may have gathered that I was not a happy teen. My later teenage years, when I was 17 and 18 years old were pretty good. I was coming out of a deep depression and gaining a new perspective on life, although I was still far from finished (and ever will be) with my mental battles.

But before that time, things seemed very bleak. I remember many days where I would come home from school and shut myself in my room. I didn’t want to see anyone or go anywhere and I would often lie on the bed without any desire to move.

I spoke of suicide almost daily to one of my closest friends at school but she didn’t seem too concerned. I was stung to eventually realize that she thought all of it to be a joke. In my yearbook she wrote, “Summer, It’s going to be so depressing not seeing your shiny hair every day. You have to call me this summer and amuse me with your crazy antics and threats of suicide…”

Shiny hair refers to the state of my personal hygiene. Why should I take care of myself when I hated me? I knew people could tell I rarely washed my hair (and therefore anything else) but I loathed myself too much to care. When I wasn’t in school uniform I was hiding behind baggy clothes and long bangs that hung over my eyes. It felt like some sort of protection at the time. Some good it did me. I felt ugly inside and out and there was probably more than one person taking “amusement” at it.

The despair continued. One day during the winter, my dad took me shopping for a new winter coat. I looked through the selection and then picked out an over sized, plain, dark gray coat. It looked as ugly as I felt and was therefore, perfect. My dad took a look and told me he would be right back. He returned with a velvety black coat that had purple and gold trim around the shoulders and he asked me to try it on. It was lovely, and as I looked at myself in the mirror I realized that the coat I was wearing had more value in my eyes than I did. I wasn’t worthy of it.

But my father insisted. He pulled my hair out of my face and made me look again, telling me how beautiful I was. Suddenly I felt his belief in those words and it brought tears to my eyes. It was only the beginning of my path toward healing but at least I was finally beginning. About one year after that experience I felt compelled to put it on paper.

Tainted Perception
© Summer Owens

From the turmoil of a wounded heart
She saw life through tainted glass.
A broken will she let rule o’er her
Her sadness a malignant mass.

Thoughtless words she let seep in
Poisoning her caring soul.
Is she showed no emotion, she thought,
The pain would never take its toll.

She began the act for she failed to see
The damage wrought within her mind,
Was not incurred through ignorant words,
It came because the hearer was blind.

Blind to the fact that so many loved her.
Blind to the fact that she had a choice.
She thought flawed was all she could be.
She listened to the wrong voice.

Then one day she looked in the mirror
A worthless life her eyes beheld.
Two loving fathers stood beside her,
One she saw, the other she felt.

A glimpse of hope she then let spark.
Tears rolled down her weary face.
Love offered itself and she let it in,
Her life changed course for a better place.

One Hundred Twenty Five

Did you know, that in the span of approximately 6 minutes and 23 seconds (give or take a tad), a 7 year old boy can take one hundred and twenty five pictures with a slow, 7 year old, Kodak Point and Shoot Camera?

Here we have something a bit abstract and artistic

Here we have an attempt at self photography

The ever so important, leaning tower of Pillows. (Somebody give us a couch with sewn on pillows, please!)

And the other 122 pictures? All like this…

…and this…

…and this.

Because when you’re seven years old, recording your video game progress seems so important for posterity.

Sassypants

There’s a lot to love about my little girl. Her natural golden ringlets are just the beginning:

I don’t have to touch her hair. It does that all on its own. I’m jealous!

Her little kisses accompanied by an exaggerated MUH!!

Her love affair with milk…

…and the resulting milk gut.

The way she pokes holes in her food before eating it,

and the gap toothed smile she gives me more than 100 times a day.

The thing about Depression

It’s kind of like being caught unaware in a thunder storm.

You’re walking along on a bright sunny day with a light breeze blowing in your hair and billowing clouds in the distance. You’re busy with this and that and only take a little notice when the clouds begin to cover the sky. They still look white and harmless in any case. The day passes on and soon, because evening is drawing nigh you don’t realize it when the sky starts to darken prematurely. You notice that perhaps the temperature has dropped a few degrees but again attribute it to the setting sun. In a few moments the breeze that played lightly with your hair is now tangling it and swirling a damp smell into your nostrils. Looking up, you suddenly see the clouds, black and ominous above you. You blink rapidly as a torrent of rain bursts forth. Running for cover is fruitless as you are already engulfed in the squall and soaked through but you attempt it anyway. The rain is so thick and blinding that soon you’ve lost your sense of direction and don’t know where to find cover. You can only hope the storm will pass soon.

Rarely does anyone go from fine one day, to dealing with depression the next. There are always signs, but they are easily attributable to other things because they come on so slowly.

Oh, it’s just my stupid period again. I’m just fatigued because I haven’t gotten enough sleep lately. I’m just grumpy because things are hard at work.

These things can all be simple passing things, so how do you know when they’re not? Unless you’ve been dealing with depression for a while it’s nearly impossible to see the signs, and even then it is difficult. You shrug the bad days, the bad attitude, the lack of energy and motivation off saying it will pass. Yes, even if it is depression it will pass, but if it is depression it may get a whole heck of a lot worse and last for some time before it does. It’s usually not until your in the thick of it, till you break down that you think, “What is wrong with me?” and you realize that the little things have been accumulating and that you haven’t felt normal for a while.

That happened for me today, as I learned that my hubby would be home late again and I would need to make dinner. I thought of coming up with some creative meal because I haven’t truly cooked in a long time but the thought of the work that went along with it dissuaded me once again. As I stood stirring the reconstituted instant potato flakes and frozen peas, thoughts of what a crappy mother I am for not wanting to do more for my kids’ dinner kept entering my head. Then I remembered thoughts from earlier in the day about it being Count Dooku’s last day of school. Inside myself I was bemoaning the fact that they the boys are out now. That we live in a tiny, crummy little apartment and I have no yard to put them in. If they go outside I have to go with them to watch them and how exhausting it is to be the main source of their entertainment. My thoughts drifted from what a terrible friend I’ve been because I haven’t even tried to schedule a play date in months to how ugly I think my facial side profile is.

I KNOW my life is good. We are so blessed to have shelter, to have these beautiful kids who teach me so much every day, to have food and a wonderful support system at church. I KNOW I’m a decent mom who tries to teaches my kids good principles, who takes them to places to experience and learn new things. I am fairly certain I’m a good person and hope I at least get credit for trying to be, but lately all I can focus on is what I do wrong and I have no inspiration for trying to make my shortcomings better. It’s so difficult to do what you know is best when you’re heart isn’t in it. KNOWING and FEELING are two different things and you only get more depressed when your feelings don’t compliment what you know.

I don’t feel like eating healthy even though I know it can help my mind and body. I feel like junk so I crave junk.
I know I should spend more time doing worthwhile things but I just want to veg out on video games and TV so I don’t have to think about everything that is making me discouraged.
I know I should cut back the kids TV time and game time but I’m so uninspired and grumpy that I just want them out of my hair at times.

I’ve been fatigued, uninspired, hyper critical of myself and cynical of others and these symptoms have slowly been gathering like storm clouds. The thunderhead burst over me today and I realize that it’s more than just a passing moment. Now that I realize what I’m in the middle of the only thing to do is wait out the storm and hope it passes fast. I may not be able to control the way I feel but I CAN still control what I do. I’ll keep trying to do the things I know I should and hope that my feelings will soon echo my actions. I KNOW I’ve passed through before (and will again) and that gives me some strength. That and the love I feel from my family. No matter how gray I feel, my baby girl’s smile, Obi Wan’s laugh or Count Dooku’s reading out loud to himself can always lighten the downpour a bit.

Fit for His Needs

I learned a very beautiful truth tonight. We are like flowers in a garden and the experiences life hands us shift around us like the seasons. Because of things that happen life may become gray, we may even feel as dead as the earth in winter, but there is always a spring on the horizon. A time to grow again and to fortify ourselves against the dark times that are ceaseless in their return.

I am a person with so many follies. Though my heart is often in the right place, I still manage to make poor decisions. In times of great discouragement I am prone to give up on myself. But God who knows me better than I know myself, reminds me of that fact and I find strength to continue on because of His belief in me.

I have realized that one of the greatest joys in life comes from serving others. God has given each of us a gift - the ability to be a tool in His hands. To be given inspiration that will benefit the lives of others. But He’ll only give that inspiration to me if I am fit for the task. If I keep myself sharp and ready and willing. This humbling realization is in and of itself a gift to me, for it helps me find the determination to continue trying to make myself fit for His needs. I want to be the one with an open heart and mind that God can inspire to visit the lonely mother who is afraid to reach out herself. To be the one who is prompted to write a random note of encouragement or thanks for someone who is discouraged. I want to be the help and comfort that someone needs because I know how it feels to be lonely and discouraged and scared.

God has given us the ability to be the answers to each others prayers. I hope that for the sake of someone else in need I am always ready to hear Him and act.

I tried to be nice

I tried to catch those annoying mice in live traps but they just wouldn’t have it, so two days ago I set out the quick snap traps. Two down and probably more to go.

In other news, Obi Wan graduated Kindergarten today. He is thrilled to be done with school, but I had to explain that it wasn’t forever. He is going back in the fall and he’s not happy about it. I don’t know why. He has a good time at school. Maybe he’ll grow to like it more as he gets older. Right now he and Sassypants are jumping on couch pillows spread all across the room. Sassy loves having a big brother here to play with during the day.

Hubby is currently working on a research project that may be our ticket out of here. No matter which way the results go, they ought to be interesting enough to publish. He could start writing his thesis in two months. He could also be starting over on something else if this one doesn’t pan out. Hey, we’ve been here 7 years, what’s one more right? heh…heh…sigh…

If you’re looking for something to do with all those delicious strawberries and mangos that are in season, here is the recipe for a Strawberry Mango Milk Tart I made yesterday. It’s gone already. It was good.

Obviously I haven’t got much of substance to say today. The important thing is that life is good. I love my family and I’m so thankful to be alive and for all the good things in my life. My husband, my kids, my faith and my friends. I’ve been trying to simplify my life more lately and it has brought me greater happiness and a clearer view of all the things I’ve been blessed with.

Liking the Balance

This blog never fully developed into what I envisioned for it. But that’s because my vision changed.

I began to see two separate places for two distinctly different sides of me. I started Perfectly Provident last year, knowing that I wanted it to encompass much more than just frugal endeavors and I’ve finally made that transition. It’s for all the upbeat, busy things I do in my life - do it yourself projects, provident living, frugality, other hobbies and the like. It’s the me that I imagine those who don’t know me very well, always see. It’s a blog I started with the vision of sharing my knowledge freely and as such, it has been a delight. I expect nothing in return from it. I don’t share intimate details of my thoughts because on that blog it’s not what people have come for. I see that people are reading and hopefully learning new things and I am thrilled. I can give away products and knowledge, knowing that’s the only reason people visit, and being ok with that.

Likewise, Summer’s Nook is still a place where I hope people will learn, but about different things. Where I hope you might benefit from my writing and poetry. From my thoughts on motherhood and life. Where I hope some will find encouragement from my honest and open experiences about my battle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, depression and anxiety.

Over at Perfectly Provident you get the happy go lucky side of me and around here you see the inner workings and thought processes that fuel that side of me. I’m feeling much more at peace with having two different venues for expressing the aspects of my personality that never seemed to mesh on one blog. I’m hoping that by dividing the two, I’ll be happier knowing that those who stay around Summer’s Nook are doing so for who I really am and not what products I have to give away.