tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83813252823816144082024-02-20T20:20:53.079-08:00Queen of the MunchkinsKaren Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-51722847455697611522018-02-11T10:08:00.003-08:002018-02-11T10:08:31.581-08:00What Your Spouse Wants You to Know About Valentine's Day--Thinking Outside the Heart-Shaped Box<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In college, my best friend and I always called it Singles Awareness Day, laughing at how hard it was to watch happy couples floating around on clouds of chocolate, balloons, and roses every year. How could we have known how boring red roses can get after a few years of true love? If you're tired of the same old thing, here are a few ideas to make Valentine's Day fun and romantic again.<br />
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Husbands--Preparation Shows Love<br />
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It's sad but true: Valentine's Day was, in fact, invented by a greeting card company so they could sell more stuff, and it's easy to fell cynical and get in the habit of jumping through hoops just so your wife won't feel sad or neglected. But instead of sighing over the how the price of flowers and movie tickets go up every year, ask yourself: Why do you celebrate Valentine's Day at all? You're not trying to stay out of the doghouse--you're trying to have fun with your favorite person and strengthen your relationship with her. <br />
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Get proactive about your gifts and the date you plan. Your wife will feel treasured when you put in advance time and planning to do something special, and you'll be surprised how much more fun it is than just following your February 14 formula. Talk to her about what she would like, and then be creative.<br />
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The basic concept behind a great gift or date is to remember great memories together or to make new memories, Gabby Turner from <a href="https://www.thedatingdivas.com/" target="_blank">The Dating Divas</a> explains. Did you share a special night under the stars? Go to thenightsky.com and order a print of that night, from that location. If you met at a Jazz game, surprise her with tickets. Get a hood ornament from the make and model of your car that died on the honeymoon, and turn it into a key ring. Organize old photos of your dating years into a scrapbook. Frame your wedding certificate. Take her to the temple for sealings and then to her favorite restaurant. <br />
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"Some of our most popular things are the Year of Dates Kit... and Love Letter of the Month prompts," Turner says of her website, which focuses on making fun dating easy for married couples. These gifts keep giving all year long as they help you have fun together and strengthen the relationship. A coupon book is another great option for the woman who has it all. <br />
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Still stumped? There's no shame in doing a little research! A half hour of searching and a half hour of preparation willl avail you of some of the most fun you've ever had together. Remember, advance planning is where most guys fumble. Don't become a statistic.<br />
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Wives--Take the Pressure Off<br />
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If you've never been disappointed on Valentine's Day, I don't believe you exist. This year, give your husband (and yourself) the gift of a carefree night together by communicating clearly and helping with planning. <br />
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You may think you're communicating clearly when you say, "Whatever you think will be fine," but this is the stuff husbands' nightmares are made of. If you really do love a dozen red roses, tell him so. if you'd love for him to put his woodworking skills to work, tell him exactly what you'd like him to make. Husbands hate hints almost as much as they hate the cold shoulder on February 15, so cut the guy some slack and say exactly what you mean. <br />
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You've likely seen more romantic comedies than your husband would care to count. Be careful not to try and fit him into <i>that </i>box.<br />
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If it's your turn to plan the date this year, ditch the dinner reservations and surprise your husband with something more up his alley. "What constitutes a good gift or a good time depends on love language and family of origin traditions," says Mark Clayton, a licensed clinical social worker specializing in marriage and family counseling. You want to try and think outside of your box but inside of your spouse's box." <br />
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A beautifully crafted, themed date complete with color-coordinated gift wrapping and decor may be what you'd hope he'd do for you--but he's hoping you'll plan a fun game for the bedroom instead. Again, there are a million resources online ranging from super easy to more adventurous. Shake it up and make it fun for both of you.<br />
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Couples--Celebrate Your Way<br />
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Remember, Valentine's Day is all about connecting with the one you love, so ditch the Hollywood version and infuse it with all the fun and personality you share as a couple. You might find it's your favorite holiday after all.<br />
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<i>Originally posted on LDSLiving.com on February 9, 2018 under my pseudonym, Kari Monet.</i></div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-47595144895828317682018-01-13T07:37:00.002-08:002018-01-15T05:26:29.105-08:004 Ways to Help when a Loved One is Depressed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I seem to be between battles in this lifelong war with
depression, thanks be to God, which gives me the time and energy to help other
fighters. In a strange role-reversal, I
have often lately found myself the caretaker of one who for years has looked
after me. Often I’ve had to call to mind
what she has done for me, so I can do it for her.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I thought you might like a few pointers, and I even made up
an awesome mnemonic device to help you remember these steps. (Yes, I’m very
pleased with myself.) PLAN!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>P is for Pray<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Prayer has been my lifeline through years of this illness,
but maybe not in the way you’d think.
When you’re depressed, it can be difficult to feel the Spirit or receive
any comfort—even when investing the time to study, pray and worship. Still, I have come out of these years with a
burning testimony that prayer works. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When I'm in danger of drowning in despair, I call on my
primary caretakers to pray for me; it <i>always</i>
makes a difference. My burden gets
lighter, or I get stronger, or I see evidence of the Lord’s love. Almost immediately. Take the time to pray faithfully over your
loved one who is struggling. Pray
specifically for blessings sought on his or her behalf. During the day when you are reminded of the
struggle, instead of worrying, take just a moment to pray in your heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>L is for Listen<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Some of the greatest healing comes when someone is willing
to sit and listen without judgement.
Hold your loved one and ask questions.
Allow them, even encourage them to cry—thinking of tears as a cleansing
agent, a way for pain to exit the body so your loved one feels lighter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Listening to someone dealing with depression can be
confusing sometimes, because our logic is often skewed by our feelings. Resist the temptation to correct thinking
that you see as clouded judgement. There
are times for advice, but we all listen better when we feel we’ve really been
heard. Save it for when your loved one
has the strength to hear and take counsel.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>A is for Advocate<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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When the time is right, be an advocate for your loved one by
helping her find the next step in her healing process. Know what helps her individually and help her
to do it. Know what helps others and
when she’s stuck, get her moving in that direction. This takes research, talking, listening,
thinking, counseling, watching and especially praying. And then comes the pushing. Depression can cloud our judgement and impair
our ability to act—which often stymies even the best intentions for progress;
so if you have earned the trust of someone who’s been struggling, be a strong
voice for the next step. Help them call
a therapist. Point out flawed thinking,
especially as regards their own worth and value. Help them find the right medication. Get out and exercise with them. They will thank you for it, right after they
finish whining. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>N is for New Thinking<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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In most relationships, the more you put in, the more you get
out. In other words, you may be
accustomed to seeing real results every time you invest in a person you
love. However, if you’re the primary
caretaker of someone struggling with depression—that is, if you are the person
closest to them—you may feel a sense of hopelessness and futility when even
your best efforts can’t get so much as a smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Think long-game here.
It’s extremely important to be able to give as much as you can and trust
God with the rest. Sometimes you won’t
see <i>any </i>immediate results, but that
doesn’t mean your efforts are wasted.
Your goal is not to change circumstances anymore, but simply to be there
and give support. Start measuring
success by how much love and effort you’ve invested. At the end of the day, give yourself a pat on
the back just for being fully present and helping as much as you can. Lather, rinse, repeat.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As Elder Holland famously <a href="https://www.lds.org/ensign/2013/11/saturday-afternoon-session/like-a-broken-vessel?lang=eng&clang=ase&_r=1" target="_blank">taught</a>, <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Don’t assume you can fix
everything, but fix what you can. If
those are only small victories, be grateful for them and be patient. Dozens of times in the scriptures, the Lord
commands someone to ‘stand still’ or ‘be still’—and wait. Patiently enduring some things is part of our
mortal education.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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God bless you patient spouses, siblings, parents and
friends. As I said, I’m new to this
caretaking business, but I’ve watched my loved ones master the art over years
and years of patient loving care. They
have, perhaps, saved my life. They have
definitely made it worthwhile. God bless
you for being there and sharing the burden.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-34394519608306146052018-01-09T10:24:00.001-08:002018-01-09T10:24:43.241-08:00I Make the Living Worthwhile--Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello, friends. I feel like every time I write, I'm full of an awesome new plan for my life and telling you all about how great it's going to be...then I forget to share how it actually turns out--and come back months later with my NEW new plan.<br />
<br />
So just by way of an update--and also an acknowledgement of all the great excuses I have for not writing--here's my life in just a few words.<br />
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Having the kids in school has been heavenly. I know, I must either be crazy now or I was crazy to home school for four years. The truth is halfway between, I suspect. I'm just a little crazy all the time. Happier, now, though, and so I suspect that I wasn't quite cut out for it after all. No regrets, of course, we all learned so much and in a way I think it was meant to be. But I'm glad to have my house to myself now, and six glorious hours of quiet every day.<br />
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I have less free time than I thought I would, which will come as no surprise to those of you who told me so. I am busy with housework and helping loved ones for most of the day, leaving a little bit left over for my own fun projects. My home is prettier and better-organized than it was four months ago. I spend more time in the temple, more time exercising, and yes, more time reading and napping. And I've been investing a lot more time in my writing--just not here, but I'll tell you all about it when I have something to tell. <br />
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Also, my latest antidepressant is doing a good job. Not perfect, of course, but I'm in better shape mentally than I've been in a very long time. I'll forever be grateful for the amazing care of my therapist, doctor, and especially my loved ones.<br />
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I hope you, too, have someone to watch over you in times of trouble. Thanks for reading.<br />
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-41123116486815526962017-08-15T08:25:00.000-07:002017-08-15T08:25:17.794-07:00He Makes the Living, I Make the Living Worthwhile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday ALL my kids went to school ALL day for the first time ever. And I know I'm supposed to say it was bittersweet, so, okay, there was the tiniest twinge of a pang. It lasted approximately three seconds. <br />
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And then I did a happy dance. Guys! This is a whole new life for me! I have never, NEVER spent more than an hour or two alone in my whole life, and now I have potentially SIX every single day. My introverted little heart just can't stop singing. <br />
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It has been a long summer. A long life, come to think of it, and particularly the last fifteen years since I first clocked in as a stay-at-home mom. There have been diapers. There has been drama. There has been depression. And thanks to the grace of God, there has been a boatload of joy as well.<br />
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But honestly? I am delighted to be starting a new chapter of mothering. <br />
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I'm not exactly sure about my plan. As you read this, I am celebrating by binge-watching whatever people binge-watch these days and eating copious amounts of good chocolate. But don't worry, that kind of behavior won't last long. Eventually I will transition into sitting by the pool and reading. I am taking a long-deserved break.<br />
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(If indeed this version of stay-at-home-mommying turns out to be a break. I have my doubts.)<br />
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I have seriously thought about going out and getting a job or continuing my education right away. I have a some dreams that are brewing, dreams that have been on the back burner many years while I have focused on the kids. And I wouldn't have it any other way. They and TJ are the<i> real</i> dream. So yes, I can feel the pull to get out in the world now that I have a little more freedom. But for now I'm going to let those dreams brew a little longer while I enjoy success at this job I've been doing for so long. <br />
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Don't get me wrong, we are so far, so good. None of the kids seem to be considering a life of crime, so I think my life's work has yielded good results. <br />
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But I have felt underwater for most of the time I've been mothering. While I've been raising kids, an enormous amount of homemaking and self-care has gone completely untouched, and I'm pretty stoked to try my hand at it. I want to balance our budget. I want to paint our ugly walls. I want to plant roses to give to friends. I want to do more yoga.<br />
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I even plan on trying out the previously unheard-of arts of dusting and window washing. And maybe I'll figure out the mystery of why our dishwasher makes things dirtier instead of cleaner.<br />
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My dream is to cultivate a happy family. My dream is to have a home where the<a href="https://www.lds.org/topics/family-proclamation?lang=eng&old=true" target="_blank"> Proclamation on the Family</a> is a way of life. I want to make this place a respite from the world when my kids are tired from their battles. I want my husband to find good food and happy faces here. I want to be a listening ear, a messenger of love, a supporter of dreams, a fighter for freedom. I want to be healthy enough myself, well-cared for enough myself, to overflow with nurture for the ones around me. <br />
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Is this to say that women should always stay home? Nope. It's not even to say that I'll be here for long. But maybe I will. Even without the kids at home during the day, I think I might still be more valuable here than anywhere else. <br />
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Yesterday being the first day, I ignored previous plans to veg out in favor of getting the house in shape and walking the dog. Then my brother dropped in and we had a nice, long heart-to-heart. Then, more housework, and as it was almost time to pick up the kids, I forced myself to read and nap for about an hour. So, mostly work. <br />
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But when I picked the kids up, I felt like a whole different mommy. I had dinner prepped already, so I sat around and listened to Eliza and Ezra chat about their first day of high school. I saved Eliza's life by driving her to get some jandals to replace the ones the dog had eaten. I read to them after dinner. <br />
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Counting the time I spent taking care of the kids before and after school yesterday, I still worked a seven-hour day. Add five hours of housework and I still worked a twelve-hour day. But I was more relaxed and happy than I've been in a long time. That mysterious back pain of mine almost disappeared. And those hours of silence recharged me and gave me a sincere enthusiasm for time with my kids I haven't felt in a long time. <br />
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Today I'm aiming for more play and less work, because I'm pretty sure a happy mama is the best gift I can give my family. Three cheers for a husband who makes the living so I can make the living worthwhile!</div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-77931014524700512082017-07-09T17:31:00.001-07:002017-08-03T14:33:01.112-07:00Christ Has Boundaries<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Is "boundaries" a buzz word this year, or have I been hiding under a rock my whole life? I never even heard the word before last year when my world exploded. But it turns out that a lack of boundaries can make your world explode. Haha! So I'm learning now. It's uphill work: imposing boundaries typically makes me feel un-Christlike because I've internalized some ideas about the Savior that aren't quite right. The best antidote I have found to this unhealthy sense of shame is a study of Christ's life and teachings. <br />
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<b>What are Boundaries?</b><br />
Simply stated, my boundaries define my own knowledge of who I am and what kind of treatment I will accept within a relationship. Boundaries do not dictate others' actions, but guide my own in providing safety for myself when others fail to show respect. <br />
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Within a relationship we issue invitations to interact in ways that work for us. When our loved ones can respect our boundaries and help us feel healthy and safe within the relationship, those boundaries can move in a little. When they refuse to respect those boundaries, the boundary moves out to provide protection. <br />
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Boundaries often get the bad rap of killing intimacy, while really it is the fertilizer that grows closeness. For example, say my best friend knows that trust is a basic principle for me within a relationship. I let her know that it's important she doesn't share anything confidential with others. If she honors that need and can keep a secret, I feel safe letting her see more and more of me, hence the boundary moves in toward greater closeness. If she chooses not to honor that boundary, it moves out and I no longer feel safe sharing personal things with her. I find a safe place in the relationship either way. The quality of the relationship, the closeness and intimacy are determined by both members knowing and respecting each other's boundaries. <br />
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<b>Does Christ Have Boundaries?</b><br />
In Christ's mortal ministry, he demonstrated boundaries in his daily life and taught them in precept. Christ knew who he was and did not allow others to define him. Christ knew his personal mission on the earth did not extend in every direction, and so focused his efforts where he knew they should be.<br />
Christ took time to rest physically, ate when he was hungry, and took time to be alone when he was tired or heartsick. Christ didn't comply with unreasonable demands.<br />
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Christ's teachings are replete with these principles, too. I would copy Matthew 18 word for word here, but for the sake of brevity, consider these (and read the rest as soon as you can!)<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. <br />
Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!<br />
Wherefore if they hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast them from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire.</blockquote>
My translation? Relationships are important, but only insofar as they promote our health, happiness, and progression back to Heavenly Father's presence. <br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The ultimate example of Christ's boundaries is that he has decreed only those who love him will enter into his presence. This very simple concept is the basis for a healthy life for us as well.</span><br />
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<b>Boundaries=Love</b><br />
There is a little devil on every covenant woman's shoulder, telling her to be "Christlike" whenever she starts to establish boundaries. Search the scriptures carefully and see Christ for who he really is, not who he is painted to be. True disciples of Christ must emulate his example in kindness towards themselves before they can ever minister to anyone else.<br />
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If you desire to be a blessing in the lives of those around you, start by becoming the happy, loved woman God created you to be. Only from a full heart can flow those acts of genuine kindness and those principles of truth that will lift the world each day. Only from healthy relationships founded on Christ's teachings can come the light we are commanded to shine. <br />
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I had a very tender experience recently as the Lord set about to teach me what boundaries are about. I had felt some pressure to let down a boundary in order to see family members who have recently hurt me very much, had held firm to protect myself (yay!) and had felt immediately guilty about it (boo!) I took my problem to the Lord and he asked me if I would ever force my 10-year-old self to participate in a family gathering with people who had been mean to her and most likely would do so again. My mind recoiled at the thought of forcing a child to be with people who make her uncomfortable, and the Lord told me, "that's how I feel about you." I felt a flood of peace and love from the Savior, and perhaps just as important, for myself. <br />
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That honest, kind, nurturing love toward myself has been a lifetime in coming. It swells when I listen carefully to my own feelings and honor them as I would a tender child. Because I am safe and loved, I have a lot more love and tenderness to share with those around me. But I must resist the impulse to say that is the whole point--that kind of martyr attitude hurts after awhile. While the ability to minister to others certainly increases with a true sense of self, the point for me is that I can feel the love of my Heavenly Father. <br />
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Christ did and does have boundaries. He provided them for us not to keep us out, but to draw us ever farther in toward the center of his love by making us more like him. As we allow his love to refine us and feel it burn more brightly, we will guard that light from the winds around us so that those who want to, can draw closer and feel it, too.<br />
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<i>PS: After you've read Matthew 18 (for real), you should really take a look at <a href="http://www.soulshepherding.org/1998/07/jesus-set-boundaries/" target="_blank">this article</a>, which details many instances of the Lord showing a healthy sense of his boundaries. It greatly influenced my progress and helped me to write this post!</i></div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-59209464613488042652017-05-28T11:57:00.000-07:002017-05-28T12:20:06.152-07:00Choosing to See<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>
What I Had to do Before I Could See Christ in My Troubled Past </b></span><br />
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Since the family pictures have fled with all their cheer and beauty to Instagram lately, this blog has experienced a bit of an existential crisis. Why did I write here and why did you read here? Do I continue my ruminations on what pain means to a woman of faith? I guess part of the reason I've been silent lately is because my story has expanded from the lonely battle of depression to the wider war of family dysfunction--and I don't know how much of that you need or even want to know.</div>
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<br />
But I'm still here and the major theme of pain through the lense of faith persists in my life. I assume it persists in yours as well, or you would not be brave enough to keep coming back. <br />
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And so as long as this soapbox of mine continues to bear my weight, you will still see me here, whining just as little as I can, but mostly sharing my hope of a better world to come. This blog is a love song to my perfect Savior, and so...I write.<br />
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If you've missed the basic outline of my last eighteen months, and just so you can have some context, here it is. My brother admitted to a major pornography addiction, left his wife, and left the church. My parents separated, then divorced. My dysfunctional relationship with Dad has painfully exploded into complete rupture. The counseling I've resorted to in order to help me cope has sometimes been a cocoon of validation and support, but more frequently a brutally painful opening and scrubbing of old wounds so that they can heal properly. And the past year has been very physically painful as I've battled chronic pain and tension in my neck and shoulders, which no amount of medication, yoga, exercise, massage, chiropractic care, or physical therapy seems able to touch. <br />
<br />
There is a lot of good news, though. I've won a lot of battles with anxiety and depression this year because of all the great therapy, medication, and especially love and support from family and friends. My kids have thrived in their new Montessori School, alleviating my responsibility to home school them and also the guilt that I would have struggled with if they didn't love their school. My relationships with TJ, the kids, my mom and my siblings have grown in intimacy and joy--more, I think, than they ever could have without these struggles to pull us together. I spend hours and hours every week connecting with my loved ones as we do everything from Muppet movies to serious discussions about our feelings and our lives. The adults in my family have given me the most important validation, counsel, feedback, and support, despite my excellent professional counselor. And I'm learning to make friends for the first time since college, fighting my way out of the self-imposed isolation and loneliness depression often brings. Girl friends! Thanks for loving me even though I have no social skills. <br />
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. . .</div>
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I suppose the best news of all is what you hoped it would be. My testimony of Jesus Christ becomes brighter and more hopeful as time passes and I learn more fully what he has done and continues to do for me. <br />
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As I said, I've had to revisit some very painful facts about my childhood, and there have been some very dark times when I've wondered where God was when I was suffering so much. Those who enjoyed relatively healthy childhoods will struggle to understand this, but examining my past has brought home the painful reality that I'm not sure God loves me--and the closer my therapist has helped/forced me to look at the painful circumstances of my childhood, the more this wound has hurt. It's not the age-old philosophic debate, <i>if God existed he would not allow so much pain in this world. </i>It's worse than that: <i><b>H</b></i><b><i>e does exist and He is full of love, but he doesn't love </i>me<i>--or I would have felt his love during that dark time. </i></b><br />
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One of the most painful and lingering effects of childhood abuse is that it can be difficult and even impossible to believe in a loving Heavenly Father. Feeling unloved and unlovable is also a classic symptom of depression. And this can rec havoc on our faith. It's a pretty awful irony--those of us who feel unloved by parents will also struggle to feel God's love. <br />
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I listened to a <a href="https://www.focusonthefamily.com/media/daily-broadcast/forgiving-the-past-embracing-the-future" target="_blank">podcast</a> recently featuring Deborah Pegues, who wrote "Forgive, Let Go, and Live," and identified so much with her story. My heart especially resonated with what she said about facing the fact that God has allowed our suffering. <br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"First of all, you understand that everything that has happened in your life--this is a hard one--God saw it before it happened. He saw it before it happened and He saw it while it was happening. And He could've stopped it. That has been a big pill to swallow. God saw that. He could've stopped it. So it must gonna be something that's gonna work together for my good ultimately...I'm gonna grow. Something good is gonna happen. If you don't take a divine perspective towards that kind of pain, you're gonna get stuck in it. You're gonna say, "It shouldn't have happened." And it probably "shouldn't have happened," but in His divine providence, God knows..."All the days ordained for me were already written in His book." Not the good days, the bad days, too. And so, yes, I can relax. So I'm gonna choose how I remember this...When you walk by faith, at some point, you gotta start abandoning the "why" and just say, "it did and that I'm gonna trust God."<br />
I like what Joseph said when his brothers came to him. And you know the story, how he was sold into slavery and they came and they knew they were mean to him and they said, "Forgive us, we're sorry." And he said, "Listen, you meant it for bad, but God meant it for good." </blockquote>
I've been grieving this year, hard. I have been shedding a lifetime of bottled up tears. I have been kneading and beating on my grief like a big wad of bread dough, trying to pound out my anger and expel my pain. It's been necessary, completely awful emotional work to say goodbye to the blessings denied me over all these years of life. And even through this latest installment of pain, I've asked Him, "where were you all those years? and where are you now?"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I </i>planned<i> on wearing this t-shirt for a picture in a canyon<br />just for you guys. I didn't plan on waking up feeling alone<br />and unloved on the day of the trip--and I almost didn't go. <br />Yet the combination of a favorite t-shirt and God's glorious <br />creation tuned me right in to his love. Not always that simple, <br />sadly. But sometimes it is. </i></td></tr>
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So this painful, painful year has been very much about forcing me to face The Big Question: does my painful past prove that He doesn't love me, or is it just the opposite? Emotionally this year would look like a V on a bar graph, with my grieving over all I've lost, feeling abandoned and forgotten, and generally unloading a lifetime of repressed sorrow. Down toward the bottom of the V, I was still hanging on to some kind of hope that Heavenly Father loved me, but it was very academic at that point. My whole life is based on the assumption, the trust, that it's true, but I needed to know. And so God has been teaching me in real time that the hardest trials are <i>proof</i> of his love, because this, the hardest of years, has taken me to the nadir that I needed to reach in order to be ready to believe. I had to climb to the bottom of the canyon before I could ascend the mountain on the other side. And God let me do it, because it was part of his plan for me to feel the joy that can only come when we're willing to face our fears down. </div>
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I reached the bottom of that canyon, and I'm climbing up the other side now. The height of the mountain will crown me with sure knowledge of my Father in Heaven's love, but for now it's just wonderful to take step after step up into the sunshine.<br />
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My sense of how much Heavenly Father loves me has deepened as I have looked back over my troubled past and have seen the multitude of tender mercies He gave to me. My vision has cleared , and now when I look back on the pain of my past, I see that Father in Heaven tempered my troubles. He cleared dangerous obstacles out of my path and saved me from many snares. He sent care packages, always at the right time: teachers, friends, mentors, siblings, great books and beautiful music--to inspire me, give me hope and joy, and to teach me about a beautiful life just out of reach but worth hoping for. <br />
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But the most important thing he did was to provide a Savior. My Savior redeemed me from my many follies and mistakes, making me worthy through his grace of the Comforter. He gave me hope for a bright future in the company of the most loving Father a girl could have. And at great personal cost, Heavenly Father allowed his precious son to <i>suffer with me. </i><br />
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I have come to know that I never cried alone. That sad little girl who has always lived in my memory as very alone and unloved--had her Savior beside her, helping her bear her burden, comforting her, protecting her from trauma that would have undone her, and this is the most important part, <i>crying with her.</i><br />
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Elder Merrill J. Bateman's words on the Atonement have helped me come to this new understanding of my painful past. He said,<br />
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For many years I thought of the Savior's experience in the garden and on the cross as places where a large mass of sin was heaped upon Him. Through the words of Alma, Abinidi, Isaiah, and other prophets, however, my view has changed. Instead of an impersonal mass of sin, there was a long line of people, as Jesus felt "our infirmities" (Heb. 4:15), "[bore] our griefs,...carried our sorrows,,,[and] was bruised for our iniquities." (Isa. 53:4-5).</blockquote>
The memories have gone from bitter to semi-sweet, because that image has changed. I wasn't alone. He literally shared my pain, felt it in its entirety for as long as I was feeling it. He experienced the full magnitude of it not only so he could help me heal, but really for the same reason my earthly angels do--because He loves me. He loves me enough to suffer <i>with</i> me. <br />
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My trials will continue to refine me, and I will still struggle to feel loved sometimes, but I'm climbing up into a safer and surer knowledge that <i>feeling alone is not the same as being alone</i>. My Heavenly Father and my Savior lavish me with more love every day than I can even conceive. Especially when I'm in pain. </div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-86538480779990852782017-04-23T14:08:00.000-07:002017-04-23T14:08:52.232-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There comes a time in your grieving when you're ready to say goodbye to what you had and move forward into a new life, and I think I might be getting there.<br />
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Isaiah provided the perfect illustration for me this week. He has been faking sick lately to stay home from school, and sometimes even if I can get him to go, I get a call from the office asking me to come pick him up. (Ain't nobody going to face the shame of making her child sit in the office all day because she doesn't believe he's really sick. He's totally got my number there.) He even asked recently if I would home school him again, which despite the boost it gave me, also was sad because the answer is almost certainly no. It's strange because he has enjoyed kindergarten soooo much, and while I know all kids start to burn out in April, this has seemed more serious to me. Finally I got him talking about school friends, and he started crying and telling me that they're mean to him. <br />
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So first you should know that Isaiah is your classic type four child, and I can identify, because I was and am exactly the same. We type fours can be very intuitive, sensitive, visionary, smart, and honest, but we are also sometimes guilty of dwelling on things that bother us. We can be so inward focused, too, that we even imagine slights and insults where there are none. So in an effort to draw him out and honor his feelings, I was careful not to give too much credit to the idea that "no one" at school likes my very likable boy. I will be talking to his amazing teacher about her observations and making sure she's aware, but I am certain that Isaiah is experiencing normal inconsiderate behavior from kids, and not bullying. <br />
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I was a little stuck on what to do. TJ promised Isaiah a super soaker if he would attend every day of school for the rest of the year, but I didn't know how to address the more serious issue of how he was feeling so insecure socially. God's grace gave me the answer as I drove Isaiah to school the next day. It was very simple, but very profound--which is how I know it came from the Spirit. I told Isaiah to keep his eyes open for instances of kindness each day, and tell me about them. And it's working! Isaiah is learning that we see what we're looking for, and he's looking for evidence that he's loved and respected.<br />
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I'm in a similar place with God right now. Satan has been trying very hard to turn my challenges into evidence that God doesn't care about me, and too often I have fallen into the trap of feeling abandoned and unloved. But recently I have made the simple but profound decision to <i>believe</i> that the good things in my life truly are evidence of God's love for me, and not the result of chance or circumstance. I'm choosing to <i>believe</i> that He knows and cares about the tiny details that make up my life. And I'm choosing to <i>believe </i>that my trials are even proof of God's love. And so, instead of yelling at God for not being kind, I am looking for (and finding!) his kindness. <br />
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It's amazing how such a simple thing can be so hard. I am tempted to doubt God's love. I am tempted to reserve a corner of my mind for the possibility that my faith is an illusion. Truthfully, I am afraid of being made a fool and so I keep up a constant Socratic debate in my mind about God's word. But enough. I don't want to be smart anymore, I want to be happy. I want to feel my Savior's love. I want to see clearly the plan He is carrying out in my life. <br />
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Too much I have been guilty of focusing on Satan's work instead of Christ's, by sorrowing over the sins of the world. My Savior has overcome this world, and from now on I will lift my eyes to Him. <br />
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-46654885404461826682017-02-14T15:28:00.000-08:002017-02-14T15:32:31.605-08:003 Media Lies About Intimacy You Didn't Know You Believed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">How many times can we watch women being sold before we start to feel exploited ourselves?</span></div>
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Happy Valentine's Day, my dear friends. I hope that you come to this post with your heart full of the validation we all hope for on this day, and especially that you can feel the warmth and the truth of your worth independent of any circumstance. In short, I hope you come to this post feeling loved.<br />
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As I've mentioned once (or five hundred times), it's been a tough year. One of the big struggles has been grieving my naivete about the goodness of humanity, and this partly because I've discovered that pornography use is rampant, even among those we cherish and look up to. If you and your mate are fighting this battle against the destroyer, my love and prayers go out to you. There is some pain too great to imagine, and since most couples are not able to share the struggle, they bravely face it alone. I wish I could sit and cry with you. It is hard, so so hard.<br />
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This is not to say that all struggle with pornography addiction. In fact I think it right to clarify that I am lucky enough to be married to a man who doesn't.<br />
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But everyone in this fallen world suffers from the effects of porn. It exists on a spectrum: on one end are the most horrifying images and ideas one could imagine--on the other something as seemingly innocuous as a child's toy. Each of us has a line we prefer to stay on the right side of, and while I'm not here to get you to move yours, I hope you can bravely examine how some of what we consider innocent could be harmful. Because we as women are being bought and sold like cattle every day.<br />
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And the men aren't the only ones buying in.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lie #1 Your worth is based on your sexuality.</span><br />
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You think you can spot this one a mile away, but stay with me. <br />
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Of course we can all see the subtle messages aimed even at children. Let's pass over the obvious fact that every Disney princess since 1989 (with the exception of Mulan) is portrayed with fantastic proportions and revealing clothing.<br />
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Let's even ignore the standard story line, used in everything from cartoons to reality TV to commercials, that has a guy ignoring a girl until she gets her dream makeover and is dressed to kill.<br />
Blatantly, the message is immodesty=attention-from-the-guy-you-like.<br />
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Usually the media tears women down in far subtler ways. <br />
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Consider the storyline that has the woman using sex to get what she wants. She lures, teases, maybe seduces the ape of the man who can give her a promotion, entrance to the top-secret lab, or tickets to a sold-out show. It's often portrayed humorously, but the message is clear: sex is a commodity; you are a commodity.<br />
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Most of the time it manifests as the constant objectification of women in every form of media. Commercially, but also artistically, women are manipulated like props on a set for maximum sex appeal. Take a woman, vamp her up, airbrush her, and make sure there are lots of revealing shots of her body to produce eye candy so you can sell everything from chewing gum to blockbuster action movies. Women's bodies are no longer sacred, they're a commodity to be bought and sold. And just to be extremely clear, when we see sisters used like that, something changes in us whether we know it or not.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lie #2 Sex is selfish and sinful</span><br />
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Some TV shows and movies are so steeped in pre-marital sex from the first frame, that while there may be many hookups in your 120 minutes, the heroine may never get real love or respect by the end of the film. Let me translate: give sex first, and maybe, just maybe, you'll be valued and loved. Probably not, though, because there's lots of sex but not lots of love to go around. <br />
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We consider the sex in these movies as inappropriate, the worst part of the movie, the part we fast forward through or wish we had. How can all of this not train us to feel negatively or at least conflicted about sex?<br />
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And we're not even going to go near 50 Shades, because I hope with all my heart you know as little as I do about it. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lie #3 Married Sex is Boring</span><br />
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You would just assume that this is true if you take your ideas straight from Hollywood, which represents married sex only 15% of the time versus extramarital sex 85% of the time. But even if you chalk that up to unimaginative writers who can't find a way to build tension within a married relationship, what gives? The <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/13/marriage-sex_n_1422644.html" target="_blank">statistics</a> don't lie: married people have more sex, and more varied sex, and report higher levels of sexual satisfaction than those who aren't married. Add to that your own experience. If you don't know how hot married sex can be, find out. Today is Valentine's Day, after all.<br />
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Could it be that even within sexually fulfilling relationships we could still be buying the "grass is always greener" garbage the media is selling? And if we are, how does that show up? Well, I don't want to cross any lines here, but maybe if we're told married sex is boring, that's what we expect and that's what we get?<br />
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Ahem. Enough said. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's not just the men.</span><br />
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We think we're above these messages. We think that guys shouldn't watch movies that objectify women, but that it's okay for us. <br />
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How many times can we watch women being used as sex objects before we become jaded and cynical? How many stories can we ingest where sex is inappropriate in every form--manifesting as lust, selfishness, and filth--before the pure and beautiful sex in our own lives starts feeling wrong? How many times can we equate airbrushed, perfect women with desirability before we stop feeling desirable? How many times can we see men portrayed as unfeeling sex maniacs before we stop trusting our husbands?<br />
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Again, you're thinking that you know sex is a good thing within marriage, but ask yourself this: how many times do you think you've misinterpreted your husband's desire for you as selfish? How many times have you resisted him because you were afraid it didn't mean real love--that if he loved you, he'd have (fill in the blank.) How many times have you struggled to enjoy yourself in bed because you are so hung up on what you think your husband wants you to look like? <br />
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It is time for thinking, feeling women and men alike to identify, reject, and fight these slanders against the human race. We need to open our eyes to what messages are coming across, whether blatantly or subtly. Spotting these lies is really half the battle. Are we talking to our daughters about how unfair the media is to women? Do we talk to friends about how objectifying women in public leads to distrust and insecurity in our own hearts? And (you knew I was going there) are we turning off YouTube when one of our sisters is on-screen selling out? Money talks, friends, and if we keep sending it to Hollywood, they'll assume we like the product. <br />
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The most important battleground, though, is in our hearts. Think seriously about how a lifetime of media lies has influenced your feelings about yourself and about the men in your life. Where you've been mistaken or mislead, start mending and rebuilding. You may find yourself speaking a different language from the people around you, and that's okay--this is a conversation worth having. We've only been getting one side of it for a very long time. </div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-81981953987808103472017-01-29T15:02:00.002-08:002017-01-29T15:07:44.154-08:00Humble Pie, Part 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For those of you who were not with me back in July, I wrote a big <a href="http://queenofthemunchkins.blogspot.com/2016/07/wellbutrin-tastes-like-humble-pie.html" target="_blank">post</a> about my decision to try an anti-depressant after wearing out every other option. In that post and in a <a href="http://queenofthemunchkins.blogspot.com/search?q=%22humble+pie%22" target="_blank">subsequent post</a>, I unpacked the reasons that had held me back from taking medication for so long. And I'm glad I documented that for posterity, because I'm already beginning to forget what it's like to be chronically depressed and to have my thinking messed up all the time. <br />
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This is not to say that medication is right for everyone, but it is to give hope to those who've been struggling with the decision. And to give you an update on my life.</div>
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The good news is, that I'm truly better. I feel like myself again, not just that I'm acting the part of a happy woman. It doesn't take a great deal of effort to get through the day anymore. Looking back I can't believe that I was able to function so well and for so long without this life-changing treatment. I've struggled since my mid-teens, and feeling balanced and normal on a consistent basis is amazing. Honestly, and I hope this doesn't scare you, I don't care if I'm taking medicine for my depression for the rest of my life. I wish I had started a lot sooner, and so do all of my loved ones who've had to hold my hand through thick and thin.</div>
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And because you're my friends and I've felt like I've been holding out on you for quite some time, here is the rest of the story. While my brain chemicals are finally balanced and I feel like a normal person again, I'm still going through the hardest time of my life. I'm still in counseling, plowing through a bunch of garbage from my childhood. I'm still grieving for my dear, dear brother whose life went off the tracks last year. I'm witnessing my parents' divorce after 37 years of marriage, and I have front row seats because my Mom and little brothers are living with me. <br />
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And in case you've ever wondered, there is a huge difference between grief and depression. I would rather grieve, because grief comes in waves and is something that ends eventually, where depression is a constant, unremitting weight that you may have to carry forever. </div>
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I feel like I've turned a corner. A bunch of secrets came out last year in our family, and while they hurt and while they were a terrible shock, now I know the truth. Some of the painful changes were actually very good things, and I look forward to positive changes in my extended family. I don't have to go what I've just gone through ever again. And by the grace of God, all is well within my own little family circle. My kids are healthy and safe, my husband is faithful and kind, and we never go hungry or cold. I have a great deal to be thankful for. </div>
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And because I had Veyo pie for breakfast this morning, here's a picture. Like I said, I have a lot to be thankful for!</div>
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-81654659218896498942016-11-24T09:14:00.000-08:002016-11-24T10:17:34.967-08:00Thankful for Him<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"All things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator."</h3>
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A week ago today, I heard the voice of God. <br />
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<i>Rest eternal grant them,</i></div>
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<i>Lord our God,</i></div>
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<i>we pray to thee:</i></div>
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<i>and light perpetual forever shine on them</i></div>
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It came to me in a concert hall, during a dress rehearsal for my chamber group. Dancers, singers, orchestra, and soloists, had all prepared for weeks and months, and as I found, lifetimes for this night. I hoped that it would be enough, hoped that the music would be done justice. <br />
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The orchestra was good! My heart went out in gratitude to them for the countless hours of preparation they invested to master their instruments. The amount of time and talent and God-given goodness sitting in those chairs blew me away. </div>
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<i>Lord Jesus Christ, thou that rulest in majesty,</i></div>
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<i>O free the souls of they faithful departed</i></div>
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<i>out of the lion's jaw...</i></div>
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<i>Grant them, Lord, </i></div>
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<i>Grant them deliverance from death unto life,</i></div>
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<i>We pray thee, as of old thou has promised to our fathers</i></div>
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The vocal soloists were masterful, tender, fervent, and sweetly floated their voices fifty feet to the ceiling on their own power. My heart soared with those voices in the praise of Him who made them.</div>
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<i>Light perpetual shine upon them, shine upon them, Lord, we pray.</i></div>
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<i>With all thy saints in endless glory, for thy tender mercy's sake</i></div>
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My favorite piece of the work, "Sanctus," features a violin obbligato of such tender sweetness, words completely fail. Give it a listen:</div>
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I was overjoyed that the violinist did it absolute justice. How could I be so lucky, to be sitting in a room with so much beauty, all devoted to the Master of the universe? It was as if He was there in the harmony, there in the dance, there in the perfect sweetness of the violin and the voice. It was as if He was showing me His greatness through all this beauty. </div>
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<i>Heaven and earth are full, </i></div>
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<i>Full of thy glory, O Lord. </i></div>
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<i>Hosanna in the highest!</i><br />
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Hosanna, indeed! The God of creation has endowed this earth more beauty than can be seen, more loveliness than can be heard or felt. He is in the taste of a perfect mango. He is in the joy of a happy marriage. He is in the great bodies of knowledge to be found in libraries all over the world. He is in the majestic power of waves breaking on the shore. He is in the works of masters like Gabriel Faure, and he is in the work of the musicians who work to bring it to life. <br />
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I am grateful for who He is. I am grateful for what He has done for me. I am grateful I can see and hear him when I'm looking and listening. Not only is he the Great Creator, but he loves me enough to make himself known to me. </div>
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-31551001285362534682016-11-01T21:54:00.001-07:002016-11-02T17:38:38.308-07:00Bedtime Battleground<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You might say my house resembles a battleground all day. There is deafening noise. There are piles of rubble and debris everywhere. There are blood-curdling screams. There are projectiles. There are strange smells. There are displaced persons on occasion. Sometimes there is even violence. <br />
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Here the forces of order and wisdom battle the forces of confusion and anarchy. Here I am a lone soldier striving to overcome the noise and disorder of a large family.<br />
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The first skirmish of the day sees me fighting to get four kids out the door with lunches in hand-- without letting them completely destroy the house. Sometimes we start with a clean house, most of the time not, and sometimes I win this first battle. Either way it's only the beginning, because people come and go all day, gleefully scattering personal possessions like Tinkerbell flinging pixie dust. <br />
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I do that early cleanup, the after-lunch cleanup, and an after-dinner cleanup if I'm on my A game. In between times, I nag, cajole, remind, plead, and threaten my kids in order to get them to clean up. I dream of the peace and quiet and cleanliness that will come once my darlings are all packed off to bed. I fight valiantly through dinner, through dishes, through stories and sometimes even through baths. I get sooooo close. <br />
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And here is where I typically fall apart, because lately I have been fleeing the battleground as the kids get ready for bed. I barricade myself in my bedroom with a good book and smuggled brownies while TJ sings the two youngest to sleep. After about a half hour of haranguing the oldest four to go to bed, he, too retreats, knocking pitifully until I'm sure it's him and that he's alone so I can unlock the door and let him in. We cower in there together, shouting bribery and threats from the room to get our older kids to pipe down and go to sleep. They pretend to be contrite for about two seconds before the raucous victory party continues. We pass out at some point and hopefully they are kind and don't wake us up. And in the morning? Big surprise! The house I fought so hard to get clean before bedtime was reclaimed by the enemy while I slept. <br />
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Snacks on the counter. Shoes on the floor. Cushions scattered all over the living room. Backpacks, papers, journals, pencils, clothing, hairbrushes, toothbrushes, towels!!! How is it possible to do so much damage in less than an hour?<br />
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I blame myself for being such a coward.<br />
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But recently I realized that some of my younger siblings still do bedtime the old-fashioned way. You know, the parents tell the kids to go to bed, and the kids go to bed? I have faint memories of when my kids were smaller and less intimidating. Glorious memories of driving the enemy out of my territory. I remember when every night I proudly retained the battleground of my living room. <br />
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And so I have taken courage, and with the promise of self-respect lighting my way, I tell my older kids that they are welcome to stay awake for an extra half hour after family prayers--if they would like to quietly read their scriptures in the living room. During this time I fight the urge to flee to the security and peace of my room, and instead enforce peace or drive out the unpeaceful. Too much noise and they're off to bed, shoes and clothing and books in tow. Somehow, under my watchful eye, they just don't have the courage to produce new mounds of detritus.<br />
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Victory is sweet.</div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-85529184550862533382016-09-18T14:49:00.001-07:002016-09-18T15:09:59.343-07:00Humble Pie, Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">As my marvelous cousin said, "Eat organic, take your meds!" This is my new motto, and since it's such a reversal for me, I'm glad that humble pie goes down easier with a good antidepressant. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've been thinking about all the reasons that have prevented me from taking an anti-depressant all these years. I started the excavation of all those ideas in my first <a href="http://queenofthemunchkins.blogspot.com/2016/07/wellbutrin-tastes-like-humble-pie.html" target="_blank">Humble Pie</a> post, but there were a lot more. They were always so nebulous, but a phone conversation with a trusted friend helped me crystallize my thinking and I came out feeling that I knew myself better. I'll share my thoughts with you if you promise not to laugh at me for being a weirdo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Identity</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm starting with this one because it's probably the one that startled me the most when I heard it coming out of my mouth. I've been dealing with the illness so long and have been so open about it, that I have really started to identify myself as a depressed person who makes the best of it. The love and positive feedback I get from friends about how bravely I face this challenge has become a bit of an addiction. My inner martyr just loves the attention. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Could it be, I wondered, that I'm so content with the counterfeit happiness of praise, that I'm actually not willing so seek healing anymore? </span><span style="font-size: large;">I know. It's so sick. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">My second identity question has a little more credence. There have been so many real and wonderful compensatory blessings flowing from this disease. As Ether 12:27 teaches, this weakness brings me to my knees over and over, teaches me humility every day, gives me gratitude for those who help me, and keeps me from forgetting how pathetically dependent I am on the Lord's grace. I wondered where all those blessings would go if my struggle with depression ended. In the end, I had faith in the adversary to present me with plenty of opportunities for humility and growth. That's his job, not mine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Diagnosis</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"There should be a blood test," my friend told me, and she's absolutely right. Depression is such a subjective thing. I was diagnosed with depression after a couple of sessions with an LCSW. I told my doctor, who will prescribe anything I ask him for, that I wanted an antidepressant, and he really didn't even ask me any questions before scribbling my prescription. What if I'm not really depressed? What if I'm too lazy to create lasting happiness, or too negative and ungrateful to see my blessings? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I grew up laughing at people who need a pill to feel good, at a society that over-prescribes pharmaceuticals. Doesn't everyone suffer? Why should I be different?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I believe this paradygm has kept some of my dearest loved ones from seeking treatment, and I've thought all these years I was smarter than that--truthfully it's been influencing me anyway. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But when I'm honest with myself, if a doctor told me I was not depressed, that I was just too lazy or too negative--I would know he was wrong. I know the truth about who I am and what I struggle with. And that's enough for me now. I don't have to prove myself to anyone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Existential</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Existential" being the only one-word title I could come up with that conveys the idea that I'm depressed because I deserve to be depressed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This one was tough to pinpoint, because it goes against everything Jesus Christ wants me to know about myself. But it's been there all the time anyway, subtly and constantly influencing my decisions for my whole life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't remember ever feeling like I was good enough, even when I was very, very young. I've only ever seen my failings and weaknesses, and so when things go wrong in my life, I'm not really surprised. It kind of seems like if I could just be a better person, I'd be happier. And so I try harder, I run faster, I pray longer, and when I'm still unhappy it's just another failure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Depression is so very difficult to distinguish from spiritual problems. We talk every week in church about how unhappy we are when we're not living gospel principles. And so if happiness is not a good yardstick for worthiness, then what is? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm working on this one, and I don't have all the answers yet. But I'm trying to take my worthiness on the word of those who know me best: my bishop, my parents, my siblings, my friends, my wonderful husband. Heavenly Father, too, makes contact once every ten years or so to tell me what I'm really worth to Him--and I treasure those experiences with all my heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">And what if my depression does stem in some part from some of my own bad choices? Does Heavenly Father want me to punish myself by not seeking treatment? Of course He doesn't. He wants me to repent. He wants me to trust in Christ's grace to make me clean. He wants me to be as happy as I can.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If my sister were in my shoes, I'd tell her to be nice to herself. </span><span style="font-size: large;">So I finally decided to cut myself some slack. I decided to assume the best about myself and to get the treatment that might just lift my burden. I finally decided to be kind to myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And for those of you <i>still</i> reading and just dying to know how my medication is working--haha!--it's working great. It took five whole weeks to kick in, and then one Sunday, I felt normal and cautiously optimistic. Then I had a normal Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and so on until today. I feel whole and well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I still cry sometimes--my family is still in turmoil and there's still grieving to get through--but I only cry for good reasons now, and I don't carry the constant weight of despair. I feel emotionally sound and strong. And that's way more valuable than my pride, any day. </span></div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-39355022575777467952016-08-29T12:33:00.000-07:002016-08-29T21:09:43.589-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
2016 can die.<br />
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And don't tell me about the law of attraction, because this year was a disaster right out of the gate. I gave it plenty of chances to reform itself, but it continues to break my heart. Every couple of weeks brings a new crisis, and I've pretty much stopped fighting it. 2016 is a black-hearted villain. This year our extended family has dealt with serious illness, abuse, loss of faith, addiction, betrayal and divorce, and depression.<br />
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Lately more than ever I have felt that my "adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." And I have had the deep grief of seeing him rip and tear at my family. He is the master of chaos, filth, and despair, and he has surrounded me in a whirlwind of his finest work. I have seen so much evil this year that I never wanted to know about, and sometimes it has threatened to extinguish my hope.<br />
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But you know what? Bring it.<br />
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I am not afraid of the darkness anymore, because the darker it gets, the more Christ shines by contrast. All the ugliness and pain of this year have given me a clearer view of the One who has already conquered it all. <br />
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"The future of this world has long been declared; the final outcome between good and evil is already known. There is absolutely no question as to who wins because the victory has already been posted on the scoreboard. The only really strange thing in all of this is that we are still down here on the field trying to decide which team's jersey we want to wear!" -Jeffrey R. Holland</blockquote>
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I don't know Him as well as I someday will. I have been showered with evidences of His love for me all my life. But this year, when other helpers fail and comforts flee, I am amazed to find I believe in Him even more. I don't see Him in the light, I see Him in the dark, fighting my battles and vanquishing my foes. And the darker it gets, the more I marvel at his might.<br />
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Evil as the world is, He is that good.<br />
Disloyal as the world is, He is that faithful.<br />
Brutal as the world is, He is that tender.<br />
Selfish as the world is, He is that generous.<br />
Hurtful as the world is, He is that healing.<br />
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The louder the lion roars, and the more power he displays, the more I glory that my Lord has already defeated him. Christ must be pretty amazing if he has already conquered 2016 for me. I praise Him.</div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-27059333984426868442016-07-17T13:12:00.003-07:002017-09-10T21:00:09.903-07:00Wellbutrin Tastes like Humble Pie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I hope you like the title, because I'm pretty in love with it myself. It doesn't match the tone of this post, though, so if you're in the mood for witty observations, I'm not your girl. In fact, I want to take this moment to say that I'm sorry for being a little too chipper sometimes. To be perfectly clear: I'm messed up. What you read here is the healthiest, most positive, shining version of Kari, cheerleading her sad little heart to the finish line--and it's funny that I chose that metaphor, because I find cheerleaders annoying. The nature of blogging is such that you see me on my best days and not my worst. The idea that anyone might think I have all the answers is too ridiculous for words, especially given the awful state I've been in lately.<br />
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Even accounting for the grief I'm still going through, which I consider a separate matter, I'm in pretty tough shape. Anxiety, hopelessness, frustration, guilt, and deep inadequacy are my constant companions these days. I spend a lot of time crying, avoiding, hiding, being mean, begging for forgiveness, and watching lame Youtube videos. <br />
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My therapist recommended medication, which idea I rejected out of hand. The whole idea behind seeking counseling in the first place, was to do the cognitive work that would help me heal without the use of antidepressants. After all, I am the cheerleader of drug-free depression here. Please don't stop reading. I hate what I just wrote, too.<br />
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I experienced a lot of relief when I took Zoloft about ten years ago. After awhile, it started losing its effectiveness, and the side effects were bugging, so I went off and tried one or two other medications with no success. Finally I sought out other options, such as light therapy and exercise, which have been huge for me. So huge that I write about them here all the time. But back to why I didn't like my counselor's suggestion that I start on an antidepressant while continuing my cognitive therapy--why was my goal to heal without the use of antidepressants? Shouldn't my goal just be to heal?<br />
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So I've been digging into all my reasons for not taking an antidepressant, and finding most of them to be irrational. I've found so much food for thought that I'm sure this post is just the first of many. But I think one of my biggest obstacles to taking medication is my perception that it would just mask my symptoms without addressing the underlying causes of the disease. To consider the possibility that medication may just be my very best method of treatment for the rest of my life, feels like giving up on real healing. But here's the thing: all these years I've been trying to get to the root or cause of the depression and fix it. It must be that my body needs more light in the winter. It must be that I have unresolved issues from my childhood. It must be that I need more exercise. All these things are probably true, but years of attacking the problem from that angle have brought only limited success. Maybe the "root" really is the chemical imbalance, and I'll be better-equipped to address peripheral attacks on my sanity if I can just get the baseline right. <br />
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I started Wellbutrin yesterday. After all I've written here about beating depression the hard way, I feel like you deserve to be the first to know. I believe in the easy way, too, if it can be called that. Facing the very real stigmas still associated with antidepressants isn't easy. The exhaustive search for the medication that will work for your body isn't easy. Dealing with side effects isn't easy. Really, out of all the steps I've taken to beat depression, this may end up being the hardest. Isn't that just classic depressed thinking--I'll seek medical attention only after I've exhausted every other possible hope for healing. <br />
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So here I go, trying another option. I really hope you find me here in a few weeks telling you how well it's working. I remember the way the world's weight rolled off my shoulders when I started Zoloft, and I long for that relief. I remember feeling truly myself for the first time in years: like I didn't have to fake being me anymore. I know that finding the right medication can be a journey. In fact, from my experience and observations I may well be dealing with this illness for the rest of my life. Oh, how I long for the permanent healing that will come when I arise to meet the Lord! Until then, it's my job to cope and to hope. Maybe I won't have to wait that long. </div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-42046407179280819372016-06-26T17:48:00.002-07:002016-06-26T21:20:12.764-07:00Bearing Depression...Cheerfully<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know my title is hilarious. In fact, the whole premise of this post is a little outlandish, so if you're not able to stomach it today, I totally respect that. But this is something I've been thinking of a lot for the past few months, and I'm excited to explore it here with you.<br />
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Just about every time adversity comes up in the church, it comes with the exhortation to "bear it well" or to "endure cheerfully." Our beloved President Hinckley used to tell us to "cultivate an attitude of happiness." And strangely, if you suffer from clinical depression, these words of encouragement can sound like rebukes, and can even exacerbate classic symptoms, such as low self-worth, hopelessness, inadequacy, and guilt. <br />
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What is the meaning of bearing your trial cheerfully when the very definition of your trial is a clinical inability to feel cheer? Does it mean pulling yourself up by your boostraps each day? Because most of us have done plenty of that. And to tell the truth, that's where this blog post was headed originally, because I consider myself pretty good at "bootstrapping." After all, the dark thoughts and feelings I struggle with would alienate me from most people in the world if I shared them as constantly as I felt them. This disease requires a good filter or it will spread. <br />
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But there's a difference between putting on a happy face--which is actually an essential skill whether you suffer from mental illness or not--and showing true cheer.<br />
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First, let's look carefully at what cheer means in an LDS context, because when I think of cheer, I tend to think of skipping down the road singing "Zippidee Doo Dah." (And to be clear, I think we could all use a lot more of that song in our lives.)<br />
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But does the Lord require skipping and singing on the toughest days of our lives, even figuratively? President Thomas S. Monson's 2009 talk,<a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2009/04/be-of-good-cheer?lang=eng" target="_blank"> "Be of Good Cheer,"</a> provides a window to our answer. <br />
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How might we have joy in our lives, despite all we may face...'Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you.' The history of the Church in this, the dispensation of the fullness of times, is replete with the experiences of <b>those who have struggled and yet who have remained steadfast and of good cheer as they have made the gospel of Jesus Christ the center of their lives</b>. <b>This attitude</b> is what will pull us through whatever comes our way. It will not remove our troubles from us but rather will enable us to <b>face our challenges, to meet them head on, and to emerge victorious</b>. Too numerous to mention are the examples of all the individuals who have <b>faced difficult circumstances and yet who have prevailed because their faith in the gospel and in the Savior has given them the strength they have needed</b>. (Emphasis added.) </blockquote>
President Monson goes on to describe the harrowing experience of a German mother who mourned the loss of her husband and her home, and who walked many miles in the freezing cold with her four small children, whom she lost to starvation and cold, one by one. Her despair almost drove her to take her own life. <br />
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Does this sound like good cheer to you? Then why on earth did our prophet and seer even bring it up? Look again at the quote. He defines cheer a little differently. He defines cheer as an attitude of faith that allows us to face great challenges and <i>emerge</i> victorious. And our German sister did exemplify this cheer, this faith, in just the way that we can, yes, even those of us whose minds aren't working quite right. President Monson shares her conversation with God during that terrible time: <br />
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Dear Heavenly Father, I do not know how I can go on. I have nothing left--except my faith in Thee. I feel, Father, amidst the desolation of my soul, an overwhelming gratitude for the atoning sacrifice of Thy Son, Jesus Christ. I cannot express adequately my love for Him. I know that because He suffered and died, I shall live again with my family; that because He broke the chains of death, I shall see my children again and will have the joy of raising them. Though I do not at this moment wish to live, I will do so, that we may be reunited as a family and return--together--to Thee.</blockquote>
Not too many days later, while still in the advanced stages of starvation, this amazing woman bore testimony that she was the happiest of the exiles because Christ gave her hope for a glorious reunion with her loved ones. <br />
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So cheer looks a little different in the toughest times: if it wore a grin, truth would revolt and the Spirit would flee. When there is death and despair, or when mental illness makes you feel like there is, cheer will look more like sincere and honest prayer. It will look like reaching, believing, hoping for better times, because Christ is still leading the way.<br />
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Let us <i>cultivate</i> faith and hope in Jesus Christ every day. It might look like "bootstrapping" to people who don't understand, and that's okay. Because when we let our faith move us out the door to help others in spite of our own pain; when we let hope put smiles on our faces even on tough days; when we keep our hearts open to the possibility of joy--then Christ can do miracles. </div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-51873768217805976092016-05-08T20:38:00.001-07:002016-05-08T20:38:13.758-07:00Praise God For Hope<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixAanEuHwrOQcKoLL26wicWFiLRzolzvXFxWTmlE8na-bM-WLK2Qs4J8oFRnGa9VJyg0a5iuVI8jhPW0dNh1I4ZmmtsAr9bxpVNX0eeDNhq1jmGXWmIZX3oX7HsjnbFKwkyk0HJCwfjLY/s1600/11269477_130938070572336_2782249795053149742_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixAanEuHwrOQcKoLL26wicWFiLRzolzvXFxWTmlE8na-bM-WLK2Qs4J8oFRnGa9VJyg0a5iuVI8jhPW0dNh1I4ZmmtsAr9bxpVNX0eeDNhq1jmGXWmIZX3oX7HsjnbFKwkyk0HJCwfjLY/s400/11269477_130938070572336_2782249795053149742_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This picture used to be my pride and joy, but the past six months or so, I've tried not to look at it too much. This family of mine has been through a pretty rough period, and it's not over. </div>
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I never knew before that one I loved so much was capable of causing so much pain. </div>
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But the healing process has begun. We are rebuilding. And would you believe it, we're already celebrating. Tonight for Mother's day some of the siblings and their families went to Mom and Dad's house. We had great food. We shared laughter and memories. We talked to Elder Monnett via Skype. And when the guys were cleaning up in the kitchen, they randomly paused to serenade me in the living room. Dad got Youtube to play accompaniment while Kendall sang the Philippino national anthem and Spencer danced the River Dance. It took me straight back to the good old days. Growing up in a family of entertainers, there is never a dull moment.</div>
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And the truth is, the good old days weren't as good as I thought they were. There was pain I couldn't see. And now that pain is out in the open where the sun will dry it up once and for all. We are moving forward and there is hope. </div>
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Praise God for hope. </div>
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-31901094074239619372016-04-24T14:59:00.000-07:002016-04-24T19:44:40.507-07:00The Breakup<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Home school and I have decided to see other people. It feels like a breakup to me, the kind where you say it's mutual to save face, but you're really being dumped and you're still pathetically in love.<br />
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TJ and I have decided to put the younger kids in a Montessori charter school this fall. Ezra is too old for the charter school and anyway, he loves his online school, so he'll be continuing at home. Isaiah is old enough for kindergarten, so he'll be going for a half day. I began exploring the idea of this school mostly because Maria Montessori's ideals line up so closely with my own--but also because my depression has been harder to manage this spring than ever. The decision was pretty much clinched when I asked the kids if they would like to go to school with their cousins, and they jumped at the idea. <br />
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I feel that God is leading me in this new direction: I hope that by lightening my load I can heal and be a happier, better mom and wife. Paradoxically, the thought of no more home school in my life depresses me beyond all reason. True to my usual form, I've been indulging in all kinds of what-ifs about how good a job I've been doing at teaching the kids, all kinds of pity parties about the fact that the kids want to leave me, and all kinds of willy-nilly waffling about whether or not I can go through with it. Thankfully and sadly, the kids are still in love with the idea, and they keep me accountable. <br />
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Friends and loved ones have been trying to show support during this change, but because in my heart I'm still truly a home school mom, it's hard for me to hear them without feeling judged one way or another. I end up irrationally defending the institution like a girl who still loves her ex. Some people express admiration that I tried so hard and for so long to do something that they consider nearly impossible. They say funny things like "it's good that your kids will get some socialization now," or, "it's just healthy for a mom to have some time to herself every day." And I listen to the love instead of listening to the words. Other friends might feel in their hearts that I'm making a mistake--I'm not sure--but they're kind and show support anyway. And still others have the amazing balanced view that I'm just following the Lord's will for my family as best I can figure it out. It is this self-image, and not the Hero Who Attempted the Impossible, and not the Failure Who Burned Out and Gave Up, that I'm trying to embrace. <br />
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I am struggling to reconcile my gospel ideals of fortitude, patience, and perseverance with my current situation. I feel very much like I'm betraying my home school sisters in this community by walking away. We stick to it, through thick and through thin--we cheer each other on, confident that if we can just get through the rough patches that occur in all of our lives, our families will thrive and be blessed. All these past four years I've had so much positive direction from the Lord on my efforts in our home school, and we've had so much joy and success. It is difficult to believe that he would direct me away from this fertile ground. <br />
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I was surprised and uplifted by relevant counsel for my life coming out of dreary old Jacob 5. As we discussed the olive tree allegory in Sunday School, I was impressed that the Lord grafts his children where he wants them, for their growth and for the growth of the Kingdom. Callings change, life circumstances change, relationships change, all whether or not we want them to. The Master Gardener surely has directed this change, and therefore I trust we will still have a bountiful harvest. </div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-7024334175378394192016-04-12T05:37:00.000-07:002016-05-08T20:54:03.459-07:00Cry More<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is a sacred space for me. Just looking at my blog brings peace to my heart. I have always tried hard to follow Mrs. Nielsen's example by only writing when there is something uplifting to say. This is why you haven't heard from me a lot lately.<br />
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Unlike most of the tortured artists of the 21st century, I find my depression dampens creativity instead of fueling it. But I've also found creativity to be a powerful antidote, and so here I am.<br />
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Last week I finally made it in to see a therapist, and we talked about a few things that have been troubling me. My big takeaway, though, was that I am grieving and I need to honor that process more. I literally need to schedule more time for crying.<br />
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I have gotten into the habit over the years of crying for a few minutes with TJ at the end or beginning of a hard day, and then drying my tears so that I can sleep or get moving. Crying for too long, I thought, was just a waste of time. But grief is different from depression, and lately I have felt those accumulated tears as heavy and unwieldy as a completely full, five-gallon bucket. Every time I made a wrong move, tears spilled everywhere. In church. In yoga. During home school. I have often felt that I could cry for days and weeks straight and never, never run out of tears. But never having given myself the freedom to find out how many tears were in there, I just didn't know.<br />
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My therapist encouraged me to take as much time as I need to periodically just cry until I can't cry any longer. So I came home, and when I had taken care of everyone's needs, I locked the bedroom door, went into the closet and began to pray. I poured out my heart the Heavenly Father, enumerating every weight and every pain in my heart, and then I sobbed and sobbed. I cried my way through half a roll of toilet paper, and then I felt done.<br />
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The relief I felt was powerful and lasting, truly as if I had dumped a hundred pounds of tears. I went about my daily activities with a sense of lightness and even well-being. I can't believe how healing it was for me to cry it all out. <br />
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My bucket fills up more slowly than I would have thought, but I've cried in the closet twice this week and at other times to a lesser extent. <br />
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I don't know what exactly my Heavenly Father has in mind for me at this time. It is hard to find purpose in suffering. I hope that by acknowledging and truly expressing my grief, it will pass more quickly. </div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-81494829229064263822016-04-01T05:54:00.002-07:002016-04-01T05:54:17.918-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So often when I'm in the midst of depression, I feel that I am defined by it--that this is the new me that everyone is going to have to get used to. And I fight against that perception. I fight by trying to be cheerful. I fight by holding on to the things that used to be important to me, even when I'm not feeling it. </div>
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But today I realized that when Jesus Christ introduced himself to the Nephites, some of the first words out of his mouth were to recount the agony he had passed through on their behalf: it had become one of his chief defining characteristics. <br />
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<br />"And it came to pass that he stretched forth his hand and spake unto the people, saying,<br />Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world.<br />And behold, I am the light and the life of the world; and I have drunk out of that bitter cup which the Father hath given me, and have glorified the Father in taking upon me the sins of the world, in the which I have suffered the will of the Father in all things from the beginning." 3 Nephi, 11: 9-11</blockquote>
Of course, he exemplified bearing burdens in the best way; he became refined by them, and he used them to glorify the Father. <br />
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I'm trying to be like Jesus. And that means that the weight I'm bearing is defining me in a way. A good way.<br />
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-86370624818310506962016-03-20T20:09:00.003-07:002016-03-20T20:09:41.126-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm not going to lie, this week was harder, and next week looks even worse. But Thursday was a bright spot for me.<br />
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I went to yoga for the first time this year. The New Years' Resolutioners clogging up the yoga room for the first couple months of every year make it way less fun, so I stayed away completely until this week. I was surprised by how much peace and relief I got from practicing again. I wasn't aware of how much my body and mind missed yoga.<br />
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Thursday nights TJ and I go to sing with the St. George Chamber Singers. Usually rehearsals are fun, but we're getting closer to our concert date and the pieces are really starting to come together. Chamber music feels like heaven when it's done right, and we did a lot right this week. Very healing and soothing to my soul.<br />
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Several loving friends have reached out this week with love and prayers. Thank you so much.<br />
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-12316361108490314172016-03-14T21:01:00.002-07:002016-03-14T21:19:42.894-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I try to make this a whine-free zone, but today I just need to share where I'm at. <br />
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My depression has gone from manageable to unmanageable. My tricks and hacks and boosts are not getting me above water anymore. My eyelids are swollen from crying all the time. I can't sleep. I can't focus. <br />
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I'm going in to see a good therapist sometime soon, to help me manage grief over my recent loss and the attending feelings of stress, anger, and despair. It feels like a step back, since I felt I graduated from therapy about ten years ago, having sorted out all my negative patterns and beliefs. And I'm not excited about the work ahead. Cognitive therapy is a lot like physical therapy after a traumatic injury. You have to go through a lot of extra pain to ensure proper and permanent healing. <br />
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But I know it's a step forward. I choose healing and hope. I choose not to hide my condition and let it fester. I have learned from experience that pain, like Lanston Hughes' "dream deferred," can be a dangerous thing:<br />
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What happens to a dream deferred? </blockquote>
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Does it dry up<br />
like a raisin in the sun?<br />
Or fester like a sore--<br />
And then run?<br />
Does it stink like rotten meat?<br />
Or crust and sugar over--<br />
like a syrupy sweet?<br />
Maybe it just sags<br />
like a heavy load<br />
<i>or does it explode?</i></blockquote>
If you can spare a moment, please pray for me and my loved ones. And let me know when I can return the favor. </div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-59997264938749872542016-03-08T04:14:00.001-08:002016-03-08T04:14:50.232-08:00Blogging my Way Whole<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Guys! My blog just topped 10,000 views, most of them in the past year!<br />
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Some of you big-time bloggers out there will laugh, but I need you to keep in mind that I'm not a big-time blogger. A year ago I was lucky to get one or two views per month. <br />
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I felt inspired to take my blog public so that I could use it to share my testimony and my experiences. I would still blog about my family and my faith, but I started to be more open about my struggle with depression. I wanted to liberate others to talk about the battles they fight and I wanted to give them support and hopefully some practical advice. <br />
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Mostly I wanted to give credit where it's due. My Heavenly Father has helped me to rise above my disease in very real ways in the past ten years, and I wanted to share that wonder and that hope. I just didn't know it was part of his plan to use this blog to help me yet again.<br />
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I began by writing about how my faith and my depression coexist in <a href="http://queenofthemunchkins.blogspot.com/2015/03/he-gives-me-hope.html" target="_blank">He Gives Me Hope</a>. I was blown away that people liked what they read and wanted to share it. It gave me so much joy that my miserable experiences could be turned into blessings for others. I kept writing.<br />
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Surprisingly, opening up about my condition has really alleviated my symptoms. I think this is because this blog has been an opportunity for me to serve and also to create.<br />
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In October 2008, I found myself lucky enough to be present in the conference center in Salt Lake City for the Women's Session of General Conference. I will never forget the power of Dieter F. Uchtdorf's message, "<a href="https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2008/10/happiness-your-heritage?lang=eng" target="_blank">Happiness, Your Heritage.</a>" He taught sisters that we will have greater joy if we strive to serve every day and create every day. <br />
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<br />"The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before... </blockquote>
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Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty... </blockquote>
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You may think you don't have talents, but that is a false assumption, for we all have talents and gifts, every one of us. The bounds of creativity extend far beyond the limits of a canvas or a sheet of paper and do not require a brush, a pen, or the keys of a piano. Creation means bringing into existence something that did not exist before--colorful gardens, harmonious homes, family memories, flowing laughter."</blockquote>
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Okay, I'm in danger of quoting the whole talk right here, so I'll stop. But the powerful impression Elder Uchtdorf left upon me that day paved the way for this blog. And this blog has paved the way for deep joy for me.<br />
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Journaling is one of the most commonly recommended practices for healing and mental health, but writing a private journal has never been a joyful process for me. My private journal entries are dull and unpolished. But knowing that loved ones and even strangers are reading this blog impels me to think more critically, to tap into my creative self, and especially to do the work to get my real personality onto the page. It is a joy to craft a funny phrase or record a great story in the hope that it can make someone smile. <br />
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The joy of creative writing has been the hook that motivated me to write about my experiences. And writing about my experiences has brought me great peace and healing. I have felt the Spirit testify to me of my divine worth, of my Father in Heaven's love for me, and of the sanctity of my life. I have felt gratitude for the struggles that have humbled me and made me seek out my Savior. And as I have revisited painful memories with the lens of faith, I have been able to see that He never deserted me. That is healing. And it could not have happened without you, my friends. <br />
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My lonely road is now packed with fellow travelers, arms linked together. Acquaintances who've read the things of my heart have in turn shared the things of their hearts, and now we are acquaintances no longer--we are sisters. You are the greatest gift this blog has given me. Thanks for bringing me hope, healing and joy by being a part of this journey. <br />
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To celebrate the blessing this blog has been in my life and hopefully in yours, I've added a couple of gadgets to the left. Check out my most popular posts, and some of the ones that are popular in my own brain. ;) And don't forget to share, it seriously makes my day. </div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-25680982259706246212016-02-07T20:46:00.000-08:002016-02-07T20:52:37.166-08:00A Grief Observed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Five weeks ago today I walked in the door after a long meeting at church, heard the worst news of my life, and sobbed my heart out for what turned out to be almost two solid weeks. <br />
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Someone very close and very dear to TJ and me has lost his faith--is deep in the grip of pornography addiction--has walked away from his wife and children--and seems to me a only a shell of the man I've known and loved for years. And the shock could not have been greater, because for all I knew he was fine. I could not have been more grieved or saddened if he had suddenly died.<br />
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If he were to read this, I think he might take offense to that last bit. But as heart-breaking as it would have been to lose him to death, in that case I would have the comfort of knowing he died in the Lord--I would feel that he still belonged to me in a way. No such comfort has borne me up in the past five weeks. He seems separated from me in a way that I never thought possible.<br />
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I have been holding off on this blog post because I wasn't sure what to say, and I'm still not. But I am a compulsive truth-teller, an over-sharer. And I feel a little bit hypocritical to post happy, smiling pictures here and not tell you the whole truth. My heart is breaking. <br />
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My Savior is at work here, I am sure, saving my loved one. I have faith that someday he will choose to come back to the warmth and light of the gospel, and I fervently hope that he will find healing from his addiction. But in the meantime, I am surrounded by broken hearts. We are all slogging through the grieving process. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance are hats I seem to alternate between several times a day. But the Savior is not only working to save our lost one. He is also working on us. He is purifying us, giving us more compassion, growing our faith in him. And He is helping us to bear it. <br />
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My faith in God is stronger today than it was a month ago. Every word of every talk, lesson, and song rings with truth, and I know that my merciful God is using this for my good. I would not have chosen this, not in a million years. And I'm still not very grateful. But God is good. I can trust Him as we walks me through this wilderness--just as I have before--He has never steered me wrong before.</div>
Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-45580808331254567312015-12-13T22:02:00.000-08:002018-04-25T17:53:16.199-07:00Give Your Gift<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I had a bit of a meltdown this weekend. And it wasn't the meltdown you might expect from the mother of a large family in the middle of December.<br />
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No, I wasn't stressed about shopping expeditions, elf-on-the-shelf exploits, baking marathons, or those endless Pinterest Christmas bucket lists, each complete with a scripture, song, craft, recipe, activity and service project for every day of December.</div>
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<i>I was stressed about making our family's celebration more Christ-centered. </i></div>
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It's easy enough to minimize the world's influence at Christmastime, especially if you were raised right--and I was. We're pretty low-key about presents, decorations, and activities. We pare down to the basics so we can be financially, emotionally and physically healthy enough to actually enjoy the celebrations we have together. </div>
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But if you're a mom who's trying hard to raise children up to the Lord, it can be really hard to feel like you're doing enough at Christmas. </div>
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Every time President Monson takes the stand, I am inspired by his encouragement to reach out and bless others. He is a walking example of the power of service, and especially this time of year, I long to do more. I hear stories of other mothers who have beautiful family Christmas traditions centered on service and on Jesus Christ, and I think, what's wrong with me?</div>
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There are homeless people who need coats. There are lonely people to visit on every street in town. There are people grieving the loss of loved ones to be hugged. There are soup pantry shelves to be stocked. </div>
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What is wrong with me, that I can't get my act together honor the Savior by serving his children?</div>
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It is strange that all the well-intentioned and truly wise advice to us moms about slowing down and enjoying the true meaning of Christmas can actually make us feel worse if we're not careful. </div>
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Our Savior was the only perfect mortal to walk the earth, and he came to bring <i>light. </i>He came to <i>lift</i> burdens, not add to them. Are we mothers allowing Satan to twist the joyful celebration of Christ's grace into a series of hoops to jump through? Even if we have avoided the common traps and trappings of commercialization and frenzied celebration--we can still miss the mark if we're focused on what we're <i>not</i> doing. Whether we're comparing our Christmas decor or our Christmas devotions to what the neighbors have done--comparison hurts. </div>
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But today the Savior opened my eyes a little bit, and I was allowed to see that I am not failing Christmas. I am giving the gifts that are mine to give. </div>
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They are small. And I've given them for so many years in a row, that I've come to feel that they don't even really count. But they are my gifts. And these gifts I give to others are really my gifts to the Savior.</div>
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Today I smiled big at a young friend walking into the church, and I felt the Lord's approbation. It's something I do all the time when I see someone who might be discouraged. It's small, but it counts. Today I bore my testimony of the Savior to twenty kids. It's something I do most weeks of the year, so it wasn't scary. Today I took my kids caroling at a rehabilitation center. It's something my parents did with me, so it comes very easily and it's something I enjoy. </div>
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I wonder how many other moms out there struggle to feel they're doing enough at Christmas? What if we all just enjoyed what we already do?</div>
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Some of us have the gift of baking treats for neighbors. Some of us have the gift of helping with toy drives. Some of us have the gift of quietly lifting and serving those who are struggling. Some of us have the gift of smiles and jokes for the discouraged. Some of us have the gift of snuggling with kiddos and watching Christmas movies. Some of us have the gift of sending beautiful Christmas with heartfelt notes of love and testimony.</div>
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There are enough meaningful, joyful, uplifting, testimony-building, Christ-centered traditions out there to drive any godly woman out of her mind if she tries to do even a fraction of them. We must reach for something better. We must reach for the gifts that are ours to give, and give them in full confidence that the Savior receives them in the spirit we give them. </div>
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When we give our whole hearts to Him, it is always enough. So don't give someone else's gift. Give <i>your</i> gift.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(<i>Special thanks to TJ for the graphic. Special thanks to Georgia for the deep thoughts. And special thanks to them both for always being willing to listen to me cry. I feel much better now.</i></span><i style="font-size: small;">)</i></div>
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381325282381614408.post-76412938842601261742015-11-29T20:47:00.003-08:002015-11-29T20:51:20.516-08:00Teaching From Rest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have the haziest memory of this book being prescribed to me by a loving friend, months ago. Now I don't even remember who it was that recommended it, (THANK YOU, anonymous friend) but thankfully the title of the book kicked around in my skull for long enough that I was able to find it when I needed it. </div>
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I finally read it this week and wish so much that I had read it my very first year of home schooling. It is inspired and powerful and it has brought me a great deal of hope and joy already.</div>
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I consider myself really good at simplifying, so a lot of the practical elements of this book were refreshers for me. But at the core of Sarah's writing is one of the most honest and relatable discourses on grace I've ever read. </div>
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"Rest" is the place between anxiety and neglect. Sarah teaches that we all tend toward one side or another of rest most of the time. Sometimes we even swing back and forth. I spend most of my time on the anxious side. But when we can still the pendulum on our trust in the Savior we are truly at rest. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"After all, our job is not to be successful--success itself is entirely beside the point. It's faithfulness that He wants. God is good! He isn't going to let us pour out our hearts for our children only to be left choking on the dust of our mistakes...The heart of this book is about remembering what our true task really is and then throwing ourselves in completely. Giving our all. The raising of children, the teaching of truth, the sharing of life, the nourishing of imagination, the cultivating of wisdom: These are all his anyway; we are merely His servants." </span></blockquote>
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Oh, it is liberating to remember who we are and <i>whose</i> we are, and to remember that we are only helpers in God's great work. It frees me up to enjoy the work more and worry over it less. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"You are where you are (which is likely to be exactly where God wants you). So work hard every day. Value academic work because nurturing the intellect is part of what makes us fully human, but don't elevate it beyond its place. There are relationships to cultivate, books to read, oceans to swim in, forts to build, toilets to scrub, bills to pay, paintings to create, dinners to make. This is why we homeschool--because we want to engage in a full-to-bursting life."</span></div>
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"Lavish" is a word Sarah uses over and over to describe the way a home school mother teaches, loves, and listens. I have been working this week on loving lavishly in my home. It is slow, satisfying work. I love thinking about what a great privilege it is for me to be with the people I love all day every day. Who gets that? When I am miserly with my time and my love, my work is tedious and discouraging. But this week, I've had a few magical moments of gratitude--of living truly in the moment. I want to love lavishly every day of my life.</div>
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And one last, lovely thought from this book that I will treasure: a woman who embraces her unique strengths and teaching style is a woman who enjoys her work, and a woman who enjoys her work has a happy family. I have often tried to do another woman's version of home school. It is unnatural, stressful, and no fun for me or the kids. But when I think about the things that I absolutely love and do those with the kids, we have a great time. So the schedule includes necessaries like math and spelling--yes--but it also honors my love of reading and conversation with a 45-minute chunk for studying the classics together. And that bright spot of teaching from my strength makes all the other hard work worth it. </div>
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There is simply too much beautiful, simple wisdom bound up in this surprisingly thin volume--you've got to read it for yourself. Or buy it for that wonderful woman on your list who could use a little rest. You can find more of Sarah's thinking at amongstlovelythings.com.</div>
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Karen Dickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14371124494084729526noreply@blogger.com0