~ starting the new year right: something funny, something true, something borrowed and something blue

I was reading my friend Maddy's blog earlier today and saw a link to a blog called "Seriously So Blessed!" My initial thought was "oh, barf" but I was morbidly drawn to it anyway. Maybe some of you have already heard of it, but I hadn't-- and I couldn't decide if the woman was off her meds and perpetually manic, or just one of those disgustingly perfect Barbies who live in the eternal sunshine of their spotless minds in Provo. I was thinking, "how the hell does down-to-earth, refreshingly honest Maddy even KNOW this fearsome creature?" (anyone catch that little tribute to Pride and Prejudice?) Maybe it just took a while because I didn't take my Flintstones this morning, or maybe because I really am still very much a Pollyanna, but slowly it dawned on me just how over-the-top it was (including all the most cliche misspellings... e.g., "I'm SOOO greatful for my super awesome life!"). Then I saw the links to all the editorials about her blog... ("Seriously? This woman is so great and perfect that newspapers are writing about her blog?") The real "aha" moment came after I read that her blog was "all about me, me ME ME ME! No comments about anything other than how totally cute and perfect my life is!" or something along those lines, and then in the same moment I saw that she has over 1400 followers. For a split second I actually thought "wow, apparently people really like crazy women who are really, REALLY narcissistic!" I mean, she was so over-the-top it was entirely entertaining. I think I'm more relieved than disappointed to find out that "she" is a composite character. You have to click here to see her blog for yourself... it'll give you a laugh if nothing else. And read one of the editorials on it here. Then come back to read the rest, because real life is always more interesting...


I read all that blog stuff during lunch on one of those abnormally busy days where I am gone more than I am home. (I NEED more of those days... instead of rotting here in front of the computer in a perpetual funk.) But throughout the day I couldn't help pondering some things. It made me stop and think about what blogs are all about, anyway. It's not supposed to be a platform to brag about our perfect lives, but why does it feel that way too often? The worst thing I can do for myself (besides eat an entire pint of Haagen Dazs? [does anyone ever know how to spell that? I had to look it up because I am the Spelling Nazi]) when I'm feeling like crap emotionally is to go read the blogs of individuals who only let the shiny side of their life off the leash (how's that for mixing metaphors?). I'm through with that, and I owe an apology to anyone who has ever felt like their life was crappy because of something I've posted. But on the flip side, who wants to read Debbie Downer posts, or all about TMI (Too Much Information!)? TMI is at least usually amusing, but not so much the Debbie Downers. At least those posts give me an opportunity to "mourn with those who mourn" and try to help bear another person's burdens... but those opportunities are few and far between. 


I'm not saying that I'm only gonna bare all from now on, but one of the main reasons I keep this blog is so that at the end of every year I can print it out in hardcover book form for us and posterity to look back on. And as such, I think it ought to be REAL. Not just glossy highlights of an idealized life. It is literally our journal, and I think it's so cool that technology has afforded us the ability to merge life, ideas and photos into book form and at the same time share it with those who care about us. And let me stop you right there-- if you DON'T care about us... then don't read this blog. It's as simple as that. I realize at times that it might be like passing a wreck on the freeway... sometimes it's too gruesome NOT to look... but do us all a favor and just walk away. This is your warning that things are gonna get a lot more real and personal. I'm sorry, but life is messy. Mine especially. If smirking about my life helps you avoid dealing with yours, then find a new hobby. I recently quit reading two blogs in particular because I kept getting mad when I read them. No rap on them, purely on me, but I found it much easier to refrain from reading them and thereby to refrain from passing judgement on them and thereby getting worked up about stupid stuff. I'm an opinionated person. That's gonna happen. I just try to keep it to a minimum.


So here's the blue part. I've been avoiding this for a long time, but instead of running from it I'm just gonna strap myself in and hang on to this roller coaster and just go with it (thanks for the inspiration, Andy. I warned you that you might get puked on, though...). At least for now, it's part of who I am, and thus part of our life. I've had depression issues that didn't fit any pattern I could recognize, for years. Hindsight being what it is, I'm amazed that it took us this long to figure out what was going on. "Bipolar" is a dirty word in our society, and I can at least temper it by saying that I'm not typical (aka, "crazy") Bipolar I, but I'm definitely on the bipolar spectrum somewhere, and probably fit the Bipolar II definition quite well. After years of struggling with ups and mostly downs, trying antidepressants with limited degrees of usefulness, and then having a good one (Wellbutrin) conk out on me after three years (aka, "treatment resistant" depression, which is part of the pattern with Bipolar II)... I stumbled upon a book that has lit a major "aha" lightbulb for me. It's called "Why Am I Still Depressed?" and it's written by Dr. Jim Phelps, who just happens to be a psychiatrist here in the valley, in Corvallis (party bonus: he knows what dark, rainy winters can do to a person like me). I bawled when I read that book-- and not just because I was depressed. It was the first time I realized that I fit a definite pattern and that it wasn't just all "in my head." I knew I wasn't crazy or lazy or needed to just "get over it," but for so long it felt like that because I didn't fit any pattern that anyone I knew could recognize. I wasn't classic Bipolar I (BP1) with the off-their-rocker, out-of-control highs and suicidal lows. But I definitely spent a lot of time in various degrees of depression, with some definite ups (hypomania) and some time there in the middle. I tend to feel better when I have something fun and/or social to do, especially travel or new experiences. It's better in the summer most of the time, and awful in the winter. Most of the time I can paste a smile on my face and try to engage with others at church for a limited amount of time, but most of the time, quite honestly, I feel completely crappy, depressed, and lonely. I do get some energetic upswings, which is when I get most of my laundry and stuff done. I've been rapid-cycling since November. Yeah... that's not fun. If you want to read more about it without buying the book, check out Dr. Phelps website: www.psycheducation.org. I have an appointment in early February with one of his colleagues who came highly recommended by a physician friend of ours. He's not accepting new patients, but this was one time I was glad Jonathan could play the doctor card and get me in. So, we'll see. For now I'm just trying to be good to myself and trying to be happy. I'm grateful for a good man who loves me like crazy, even when I feel like my heart is made of stone. And the one thing that always penetrates my stony heart is how much I love my babies. They are so good and so sweet and their bright little minds and their loving snuggles do me a world of good. 


And for the something borrowed: I have always loved this quote by Marjorie Pay Hinckley, and I recently was reminded of it on Ashleigh's blog. So here it is:

I want to live.

"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.

I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.

I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. 

I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.

I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.

I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."

Life's a journey. Enjoy the ride.

(dammit, I'm trying...)