A Football Grandma

dcoleman22357:

My life has been filled with it’s ups and downs but overall, it’s a good life. I chose to have my children at a young age so that I would still be able to fulfill some of my life goals as they became independent adults. My plan was NOT what destiny had in store for me.

As I approach my 58th birthday early next year, I find myself raising two of my teenage grandchildren. Kim will soon be 18 and DJ will be 15 in December. They are great kids who were dealt a really bad hand in life. You see, their mother suffers from mental illness. She struggles on a daily basis with her own survival needs. Their father decided he should move on with his life, divorce their mom, and start a new family with another woman. I do believe that they both love their kids, unfortunately neither is capable of supporting them. Not emotionally or financially.

My husband and I have raised Kim since she was 3 months old. Her parents were too busy living their own lives to take care of the needs of an infant. DJ lived with his biological parents until July 2014. For the previous 2 years, he struggled to live with his mom who was fighting her own demons. Never having a stable home, he had attended as many as 5-6 different schools in his young life. He went weeks without electricity and sometimes water because the bills hadn’t been paid. The two meals that he could count on were the free breakfast and lunch he got at school. Weekends he prayed there would be food for at least 2 meals.

In early July, he came to visit us. He was excited to be starting high school in August and he was especially excited about playing football. Practices had been in full swing since early June and he was working really hard to make the team and impress his coaches. Unfortunately, he was also homeless. Sleeping on the floor wherever his mom could talk someone into letting them lay their heads. His few clothes were in trash bags. DJ was embarrassed and totally uncertain about what tomorrow would have in store for him. How could I selfishly sit back and watch a child endure all of that and not take a stand? The answer is that I couldn’t!

DJ is now living with me, my husband, and his sister Kim in our home. He is attending the local high school here and he made the JV football team! Not one week has passed since he began living with us that he doesn’t say “thank you so much grandma and grandpa for letting me come live with you and Kim.” He is thriving emotionally, physically and socially. DJ no longer has to worry about adult problems in life. He knows there will be food when he is hungry. He can take a daily shower without fear that the water will be turned off. The electricity is on so he can do his homework and actually concentrate on his schoolwork. Also, he now has a bed in his own bedroom!

My life is nothing like I envisioned it would be at this point in time but I wouldn’t change a thing. I have found a new purpose in my life. A new reason to get out of bed every morning. I’ve joined the PTA again! My social calendar now includes Thursday night JV football games cheering for my #10 corner back!!! Friday nights are now spent working in the concession booth at the Varsity football games! As a Bengal Booster Club parent, that is now my job. So as I near my 58th birthday early next year, I am traveling the path of parenthood all over again. It’s a path that I wouldn’t trade for any other and that I thank God for giving me the health and means to provide for His two beautiful creations!

Warm Hugs My Friends,
Donna

Don’t Call Robin Williams’ Death a Waste

sonneillonv:

When people describe a suicide as a ‘waste’ IDK it pushes buttons inside me.  When I was younger, and when I was so depressed I was considering suicide, my primary reason was feeling like I was already a waste – a waste on peoples’ time, a waste on their resources, a waste of their affection.  I’d been convinced that I was completely selfish, that I took and took without giving back, and that I only caused misery to others by being alive because I was so thoughtless.  I was convinced that, after a brief mourning period, their lives would be better if I wasn’t around to ruin them anymore.

Now I’m an adult and I understand that when a thirteen-year-old feels that way, it’s because the adults in their life have failed them.  Kids, as we say in the SPN fandom, are supposed to eat your food and break your heart.  A teenager being self-absorbed is developmentally normal, especially when that teenager is being relentlessly bullied, is friendless, is struggling with school, and otherwise has plenty of misery going on in their own lives that prevents them from being terribly interested in other peoples’.  I stopped being suicidal when someone told me it was okay to care about myself first.  I had literally never heard that before.  I thought I had to justify my own existence.  I thought if I wasn’t satisfying other people, if I wasn’t making other people happy, then I didn’t deserve to live.

When people talk about ‘waste’, what are we wasting?  Are we wasting their time by forcing them to grieve?  Are we wasting their resources by demanding their attention?  ”You’re wasting the rest of your lives”.  Okay, fine, but they’re OUR lives.  They aren’t yours.  You aren’t entitled to them.  You don’t get to obligate us to continue in misery because our deaths would affect YOU.  People who say suicide is selfish, or a pointless waste, make me furious because they want us to just continue living on in abject misery, the kind of misery that makes us literally want to die… why?  Because they’re entitled to us?  Because we owe it to them?  Because their discomfort is worth more than our agony?

I don’t support suicide.  I don’t want anyone to commit suicide.  But I understand why.  And I understand that half the time, the people who claim people who kill themselves are wasting their lives, or being selfish, don’t actually have any interest in fixing the real problems, because that’s too much work; it costs too much; it requires too much time and too much care.  If you actually cared about helping people who are in agony, you wouldn’t call them selfish for wanting to escape it, and you wouldn’t call that escape a ‘waste’.  You’d call it a tragedy, because whatever could have been done to make life bearable HERE was not done.  A solution was not found.  The pain was not eased.  And only one escape was left.

I’m still depressed, but I’m better now.  I haven’t been in a suicidal state for more than ten years.  I was able to change my circumstances enough that the people who had instilled those toxic beliefs in me no longer had control over me, and I had a daemon at my side reminding me that it is okay, that it is healthy, to care about my own self-interest.  Now my husband is in the hospital because, like Robin, he is bipolar.  He’s been depressed, without a manic swing, for three months, and it’s only getting worse.  He’s hurting himself, and he’s looking for a way out.  But he has a way out that isn’t killing himself – there is a good hospital close to us where he knows the doctors and feels comfortable, where they will listen to him and adjust his medication.  He has a wife and a son who understand his illness, who support him and NEVER blame him, and who will gladly take on the challenge of handling his affairs in his absence because we are his team, and we are on his side.

Despite all this, I honestly believe I’ll lose him one day.  It gets worse, it doesn’t get better.  The progression of his condition has been so severe over the course of six years that I’m scared to contemplate where we’ll be in ten.  And I’m resigned to that.  I accept it.  I love him for the time he’s here, and I want to ease as much of his pain as it’s in my power to do.  I’m furious that I’m so impotent and I can’t do more because when you love someone you don’t want them to suffer.

Robin Williams was in pain.  Now he isn’t anymore.  I’m grieved for the suffering he endured, and for his family and friends who are suffering now.  Losing a battle like this is terrible and tragic and heartbreaking.  We all wish we could have done better by him.  And if you want others to avoid following his example, we need to do better by them.  We have to ease the pain HERE.  We have to make good care accessible to them HERE.  We have to fight stigma and support members of our community HERE.  It may not always end up being enough, because most of the time it gets worse, not better.  But we should do it because people are suffering, and they need help, and they don’t have to earn the right to their own existence.  They don’t owe us their suffering.  We owe them relief.

Don’t Call Robin Williams’ Death a Waste

Today’s Victories

nearconstantsadness:

When I was discharged from the hospital, I was put in an out-patient program to educate on mental health and coping strategies.  One of the biggest things that our teacher, C, taught us, was that despite the things that DO go wrong, there is a success not far away.

I got inspired to start posting my daily successes, which I called ‘Victories’, before I went to sleep at night.  Most days I was good about it, some days I slipped.  I’m going to endeavour to write them here and start up again, because it’s inspired some of my friends.  If I, a simple little lady from Canada, can inspire someone, then shit, I might as well keep on going.

So today’s victories are:

Woke up despite an exhausting night.
Made it to my counselling appointment.
Took care of the baby despite the exhaustion.
Had a fun visit with my grandmother.
Overcame some hefty grumpiness during the day.
Problem-solved an issue with the house.

Sigyn as a Child

bonesandblood-sunandmoon:

I don’t have a lot of experience with Sigyn as a Child, but I thought I’d try to put something together.

UPG: Sigyn is the offspring of one of the Aesir and a Jotun (specifically a Mountain Jotun, for my experiences). Because of this, She was abandoned (probably somewhere in Asgard) and eventually found by Njord, who took Her in and raised Her as a Foster-father.

From what I’ve gathered, She isn’t fond of discussing Her life before Njord found Her. This doesn’t mean She may not discuss it with someone, just that I think it’d be more tactful to approach this topic cautiously (and with the possibility that She won’t want to discuss it).

Colors: Pastels.

Animals: Urchins, butterflies, ladybugs, snails.

Imagery: All kinds of beach stuff (first example coming to mind – seashells), white and/or pink flowers (see this Ask).

Offerings: Actions that help you connect to your inner child, butterscotch hard candies.

More can be found at this shrine.

My tags: Sigyn as a Child, Deity: Sigyn* (general stuff).

seashellies:

I had an interesting conversation with thornedlily Sunday night/early Monday morning that I wanted to share with you guys (their permission has been granted). This metaphor was new to me but the revelation was not, even though it was new to her.

Topic was depression.

I confided to her that I can feel my depression rearing its head for another black bout. She then compared depression to a wild, unbroken young horse that you have to coax back into its stall with a carrot. I found that analogy brilliant and told her so. She laughed and then said you could go crazy with the analogy if you wanted. Like braiding glitter into the horse’s hair and keeping the spiders away from it to keep it happy.

But really, that analogy works! Depression isn’t just this dark infection that you can never walk away from. It’s flexible. It’s fluid. With depression you have to learn what ‘breed’ you have. You need to learn what triggers it to arise in you. You need to learn to resist the impulse to collapse into it and feed it along. You need to learn if and how you can head off a bout. You need to learn what proactive coping mechanism works for you be it medication, therapy, or other, or all of the above. You need to learn to open yourself up instead of shutting yourself away.

So yeah… if a glittery mane and no spiders are what tames your horse by all means break out the tinsel and braid some in. Spider-proof that stall and then close the door and walk away. At least until you can feel the wildness breaking free again.

I’m not even trying to be ablest. I’m telling you to be proactive about your depression. I learned this lesson early and from necessity. My mom is 50 and she’s just now trying to learn this lesson after living the life of an addict. The struggle I see in her trying to learn this at her age, changing her entire life, relearning everything she thought she knew about herself and her mental illness… it’s heartbreaking. I have other family that never learned it at all and they’re miserable living miserable lives. At this point they’re too deep in their misery, too used to it to try and climb out. I want to save as many people as I can from the fate of black life lived in misery. You CAN walk away from depression. Sometimes for good, and sometimes just for a little while, but you have to figure out how to tame it in the process if you let it run wild it’ll shit all over your life. I promise you, you will come out stronger for it.

Don’t believe me? Watch this.

Links Related to Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

glegrumbles:

Not Norse-related, but a collection of my writings on BPD that are personally relevant and perhaps useful to others, particularly if they want to understand me better or communicate with me better.

My Parents are Dead and My Sister is Disabled

leahclaire:

eisforedna:

On May 28th, my sister, Edna, turned 31.

image

Her mental age is about three years old. She loves Winnie the Pooh, Beauty & the Beast, and Sesame Street. Even though the below picture is unconvincing.

image

Edna and “Cookie.” I think she was trying to play it…

My Parents are Dead and My Sister is Disabled

Gratitude: That Word Doesn’t Necessarily Mean What You Think It Means

twistedingenue:

hoosierbitch:

From the lovely, generous, thoughtful arsenicjade

1. I’m aware of what I have. I suspect many people with severe clinical depression are. And we ARE grateful for it. But being grateful is not equal to being happy, or even NOT DEPRESSED.

Depression is a chemical misfire of the brain. It’s not sadness. Sadness will come and go. Depression, if treatment-resistant, may not. And unlike “A Beautiful Mind” would have the average person believe, mental illness is not actually something you can reason your way out of.

I can no more say to myself, “It is a pretty day and breakfast was delicious and I love my dog,” and force myself out of the depression than someone without an arm can regrow that limb out of the awareness that things would be so much easier.

I almost didn’t go to therapy today, because I feel like my problems are common place, and can be solved by common sense, and I don’t want to take up time and resources that could be used by other people. And Therapist said: “You’re not ever wasting my time. You’re bi-polar, and that’s really hard for a lot of different reasons, and I’m someone who understands that. I’m here to help you.”

So now I’m crying off and on at a cafe because I’ve seen four therapists throughout my life and still don’t feel like I have a handle on how to deal with being bipolar, and I SHOULDN’T feel selfish or guilty for going to therapy. I still do, but I shouldn’t, and I’m working on treating my feelings—even the obvious ones, or ones I thought I worked through in the past—like they’re legitimate and important.

arsenicjade’s post convinced me to go to my appointment today.

This was really good to read today, for almost the same reasons. Thank you both.

Gratitude: That Word Doesn’t Necessarily Mean What You Think It Means