Dear Robert,

Dear Robert,

If today were a normal day, and you were the Robert you sometimes are, I would be picking up the phone to say, "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE." It's just one of those days when the pressures seem to be more than I can manage. I would ask you to help me see perspective, to make decisions about parenting that somehow seem to big to make on my own, to calm me down and let me know we'd weather this storm together (and all the others, too.)

But today is our new normal, and you are the Robert you are now, and I can't share the load of the burdens I bear. Your own burdens are too much for you already. Expressing my negative emotions leads to a few different outcomes. Here they are:

1. You get angry. Angry at whichever child is creating issues. Or angry at the troubles worrying me. Or angry at me for feeling like my life is hard when yours is clearly much harder. Or angry at God for giving us trials. This is the most likely response right now.

2. You get more depressed and withdrawn. You start making broad, sweeping decisions about our lives and how they are hopeless and will continue to be hopeless. You decide that there are no solutions except despair. This is the most likely response when you're even further down the path of depression.

3. You rally. I see old Robert come through the fog of blackness, and hear old Robert's kind and loving voice and feel his arms hold me and let me know that we can manage. This does happen. Sometimes this happens. I hold out hope that it will happen more and more often.

I would like to assume that #3 will be the most likely response, and handle the other outcomes if necessary. I would like to. I just can't.

So when you come home from work, and I feel fragile, with skin of porcelain ready to crack at any rough treatment, I will put on my smile, ask how your day was, soothe you through your troubles, sit you down to dinner, and do my best to love you.

But it is so hard. It is so very very hard. And I am very very lonely.

Will you come back soon? I know you would if you could.

Clara

Adversity and Liberty Jail

I promise... this really does deal with depression and trials....just bear with me.

About a year ago I was sitting in Relief Society listening to a lesson about the Prophet Joseph Smith and his arrest and detainment in Liberty Jail in 1838-1839.  (Relief Society is the women's gospel class taught in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints).   Because you may not be familiar with the story of Liberty Jail, I will give a brief summary.

The lesson that day was titled "God Shall Be With You Forever and Ever": The Prophet in Liberty Jail.

Liberty Jail was probably the worst prison that Joseph Smith ever was confined to. The material in the lesson was a good summary of the conditions in which he lived. 

As a life-long member of my church, I am familiar with the conditions of Liberty Jail, and I am very familiar with this story. Most of the women who attend my Relief Society are also very familiar with this. I wondered how our teacher was going to make this interesting and enlightening. I knew that would be a difficult task, and I was grateful it was not I who had to teach the lesson!  She took the time to remind us of the conditions of Liberty Jail, which I will also do.

The Prophet described their situation: “We are kept under a strong guard, night and day, in a prison of double walls and doors, proscribed in our liberty of conscience. Our food is scant, uniform, and coarse; we have not the privilege of cooking for ourselves; we have been compelled to sleep on the floor with straw, and not blankets sufficient to keep us warm; and when we have a fire, we are obliged to have almost a constant smoke. The Judges have gravely told us from time to time that they knew we were innocent, and ought to be liberated, but they dare not administer the law unto us, for fear of the mob.”

The room was not tall enough to allow the men to stand upright, and Alexander McRae, one of the prisoners, said the food was “very coarse, and so filthy that we could not eat it until we were driven to it by hunger.”

Mercy Fielding Thompson, a Church member who visited the brethren in the jail, later wrote: “It would be beyond my power to describe my feelings when we were admitted into the jail by the keeper and the door was locked behind us. We could not help feeling a sense of horror on realizing that we were locked up in that dark and dismal den, fit only for criminals of the deepest dye; but there we beheld Joseph, the Prophet—the man chosen of God, in the dispensation of the fullness of time to hold the keys of His kingdom on the earth, with power to bind and to loose as God should direct—confined in a loathsome prison for no other cause or reason than that he claimed to be inspired of God to establish His church among men.”

Our teacher went on to discuss how the conditions were so awful that even the Prophet, a man who had seen God Himself and Jesus Christ in the flesh would cry out:

“O God! where art Thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth Thy hiding place? How long shall Thy hand be stayed, and Thine eye, yea Thy pure eye, behold from the eternal heavens, the wrongs of Thy people, and of Thy servants, and Thy ear be penetrated with their cries?  

“Yea, O Lord, how long shall they suffer these wrongs and unlawful oppressions, before Thine heart shall be softened towards them, and Thy bowels be moved with compassion towards them?" (Doctrine and Covenants 121:1-3)

At this point, our teacher paused and she said, "Sisters, I know that most of you are very familiar with the story of Liberty Jail and I don't want this to become a history lesson. Instead, I want you to take a minute and think about this question."  She said, "Please don't answer aloud. Just think about it."

Then she asked: "What in your life has been your own personal Liberty Jail?"

For me, this was a very poignant question. I felt tears in my eyes. I didn't even hesitate with my answer. It came to my mind immediately. Without question, my own personal Liberty Jail has been dealing with Sven's illness and depression. It's not Sven. It's the illness. I love Sven. I would also say that this illness is Sven's personal Liberty Jail as well. 

Depression SUCKS. I hate it. There are days when I truly feel imprisoned by it. I know that Sven does, too. In fact, I am certain it is so much worse for him than it is for me. I feel so helpless. I wish I could break him out of prison, you know? There have been long drawn-out prayers with gasping sobs, pleading for God to free him from this trial, pleading for God to tell me how to help him.  There have been moments of deep despair in my life when I have simply told God that I can't do it anymore. I have no more strength to go on. I truly don't see where in my body & soul I am going to find one more ounce of courage to face this.

But I took immense strength from this lesson.  God teaches us a great lesson about adversity through His answers to Joseph Smith:

“… My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; and then if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.” [Doctrine & Covenants 121:7–8.]

Peace.

Peace be unto thy soul.  Thine afflictions shall be but a small moment. I reflect often on those words. Peace be unto thy soul. I have felt that peace, but sometimes I forget. I forget because I get into the middle of an argument with Sven or he refuses help or to talk to me or to get out of bed. I forget the peace. I forget to have faith. I struggle in these times  - immensely. But then God sends me an answer that I wasn't expecting, an answer like I got in Relief Society on a Sunday in a simple lesson about Liberty Jail in 1838. It was a lesson that I didn't think would be all that interesting. To be honest, I didn't think I would come away learning much that I hadn't heard before.  I wasn't very humble, was I?

So now I ask you. You don't have to answer, just think about it. (Though you can comment anonymously if you want to. It really does help me to hear I'm not alone). What in your life has brought you to your knees, begging for help, wondering why you have this trial? Why is God allowing this to happen? What has made you cry out 'How long, O Lord?'

God is there. He is listening. He will help you. I know that to be true. Sometimes it seems as though He has forgotten you. Sometimes you don't feel peace. Sometimes you do. My faith has always tried to be that I know He is there, even if it feels like He's not. I'm still going to talk to Him. I'm still going to cry and tell Him what's going on with me. I'm still going to ask for His help, even when it feels like I don't deserve it or like I'm not getting a response.

I figure that way, I've got my bases covered, right? ;)

(To see pictures of Liberty Jail, click here.  They are copyrighted).

Coping Skill #2

Prayer.

Lots and lots of prayer.

I don't mean to be flippant about this.

Prayer has changed my heart many MANY more times than I can count.

I am, by nature, more than a bit feisty. I don't like to bite my tongue. I don't like to be taken advantage of. I like to have the last word. I'm not proud of these things. One of the blessings of the years of the refiner's fire we've faced is that I've learned very slowly to improve in these areas.

But I'm still not all the way there. There are so many times when I know Robert is in a bad place and he throws out a criticism, a jab, something a little or a lot unfair. The natural woman in me wants to prove he's wrong. Because he often IS wrong, or at least his approach is wrong. Robert's depression often manifests in irritation or anger at small things: a dirty house, grumpy kids, finances. And I want to throw his unfairness back in his face because I feel defensive, misunderstood. And also very angry.

That's when I need prayer the most, not to change HIM (although I ask that, too), but to change me. I ask to see Robert as Heavenly Father sees him, to recognize the wounds that are giving him so much pain. I ask to love him more purely and to truly have charity towards him.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. But I know that over these years, I've become a kinder, more patient person because of my prayers. I'm far from perfect, but I'm learning to love with less attention placed on how fair or unfair life is. I'm learning to love because it's the right thing to do.

Articles for Caregivers

Today I ran across some additional websites/articles for caregivers:

Burden of Care in Families of Patients with Schizophrenia

A Practical Guide to Caring for Caregivers (regarding dementia, mostly)

Knowing How to Accept Support Can Help Overburdened Caregivers

Caring for Someone With Alzheimer's Disease

Bearing the Burden of a Child's Illness (while specific to phyiscal illness, this article does have some insights that can be applied to mental illness as well.)

The Personal and Emotional Stress of Caregiving and Looking After Yourself