Cruising

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we have reached cruising altitude and you are free to move about the cabin."

Whew!  The rational pilot is fully in control again.  The hijacker, depression, has been removed the cockpit.  It was a fight and I was pretty sure the whole thing was going to go down in flames but I was able to right myself.  I am more or less flying steady now.

Cat Therapy

The strategies used to fight the terrorist were varied.  I went to my naturopath to see if there was any nutritional or herbal support.  I saw my psychiatric nurse practitioner to make sure my medication was were it needed to be.  I met with my counselor.  I talked to my husband, my best friend and my mom. My best friend and I exchanged daily texts for about a month providing each other with affirmation and support. I got massages, I took walks, I did yoga.  I read funny books and uplifting blogs.  I bought plants and puttered in the garden.  I sat in a rocker on the deck and watched the chickens scratching around.  I took naps with our cats.  I pet the dog.  I slacked off on chores when I needed to.  I did art projects. Every day I made a choice to do something nice for myself.

Garden Therapy

It was hard.  All these nice things were incredibly difficult, especially at the beginning. The hijacker likes to whisper advice that is the OPPOSITE of what should be done.  The hijacker suggests that being alone is the best, hiding my feelings is always a good idea and I should probably just give up anyhow.  Hardest of all was to tell others that I was in the midst of a major depressive episode.  So often in my personal life, I am the strong one, the one who knows what to do and how to take care of others. In my professional life, I am always the strong one and the voice of wisdom.  I did my best to ignore the hijacker.

I also redirected his harsh voice that told me how awful I was.  The ugly hijacker voice had all sorts of horrible things to say.  "You are a horrible mom."  "Your family would be better off if you weren't around."  "You are a failure."  At the time, that voice was pretty compelling.  While the rational pilot didn't allow me to believe that those thoughts were real, they sure felt real. Which is why I often repeated to myself, "Feelings are not facts.  Feelings are not facts. This is a product of your brain chemistry. Feelings are not facts. Feelings are not facts. FEELINGS ARE NOT FACTS!"   If I wasn't feeling convinced, I would go find my husband or text my friend or reread a supportive message from another loved one.

It was a process.  There was not an immediate reward.  My depression didn't leave after using one coping strategy or intervention.  I had to ignore the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness and carry on with the plan of attack.  I had to always remember the hijacker was a liar.  Each of these things was a blow to the hijacker, even when it seemed he was winning. Each activity, each connection, each healthy choice was a hit against the one who wanted to fly me into the ground.  Each one of these things gave my brain chemistry a boost.  I hit the hijacker in the gut, over and over again.  Eventually, the hijacker could no longer take it and succumbed to the blows.

Like the process of becoming depressed, the process of becoming well is gradual.  The downward spiral slows, then I a fly low but straight for a while.  Then, imperceptibly, my brain begins to head upward.  After a while, I get to the end of the day and think "That wasn't so bad." "That wasn't so bad" then becomes "Life is good."  

I am back to "Life is good."

Thank God and science and perseverance.

Yoga with my friend Kira who is staying with us while her mommies are on vacation.

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 26- Piece

A Piece of My Childhood

Creosote smells of Summer to me

tangy

brash. 

Hot planks beneath my bare feet

burns

just a little. 

Pony tail kissing my shoulders

tangled

blonde streaks.

Whirs of cicadas serenade the sun

high pitched

tseeee.

Gravel driveway stretches between

dusty

full of agates.

Old Minnesota farm house beckons me

welcoming

loved.

All my Summers

tangy

brash.  

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 25- Head

"Chicken Heads"
Taken on a Fujifilm FinePix HS 35EXR
Edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

At the beginning of May, our friends who own a flock of chickens, gave my husband 6 eggs.  He was informed that they were fertilized and would hatch if we incubated them. He went home a promptly build an incubator.

Waiting for the chickens to hatch was excruciating because other than shining a flashlight on them, we had no way to know if they were developing normally or developing at all. We had to have the temperature and humidity just so and because we had this wonky homemade contraption it was heard to maintain the correct environment.  Every time the temperature got too high or the humidity crashed we felt for sure we killed all the chickens.

One egg wasn't fertilized and one egg "quit" after just a couple days, which left 4 eggs.  On May 26, three days earlier than expected, Freckles hatched in 30 minutes.  This is well under the several hour timeline Google informed us it would take. We named this chick Freckles after my Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma Freckles who had chickens when I was growing up. (Their name wasn't really Freckles, but I named them that because my Grandma looked freckled to my 3 year old self.) On May 27, Lucky agonizingly pecked her way out of the shell.  She took well over the timeline given by Google. We named her Lucky because it seems pretty lucky that she got out at all!  Two eggs didn't hatch at all but we felt a 50% hatch rate was pretty good given that we are completely ignorant chicken farmers.

Freckles immediately after hatching.

Freckles after he fluffed up a bit.

Lucky immediately after hatching.  

Freckles at a few days old

Lucky photo bombing Freckles

Lucky at a few days old.

 Chickens grow super fast and pretty soon we had to put them in a large tub in the garage.  We initially kept them in the closet under the stairs because the temperature was more consistent than the rest of the house and we could keep the cats away.  The cats were much too interested!

Lucky & Freckles around 3 weeks old. 

Exploring the chicken run.  

My daughter loves the chickens!

Freckles and Lucky around 1 month old.

The photo at the top was taken when they were around 1 1/2 months old.  They look pretty much the same except for Freckles has more of a coxcomb developing now. Yep, despite our deepest desire to end up with two hens, we have a rooster and a hen.  He is practicing his crow in an adolescent chicken voice.  Have I mentioned we are not morning people and we have neighbors? Stay tuned for future reports on Freckles' developing crow!