But I'm a teacher - why is homeschooling my kids so hard?!

Teaching is my passion.  I love relating to students and facilitating their learning.  I earned two degrees in education, successfully taught middle school for six years, and founded a popular after-school girls' character education program.  I've presented at teaching professional development sessions and directed a professional development program for teachers.  I currently teach at the college level.

With all that passion and experience, teaching my own kids should be a breeze, right?  Yeah, not so much.

I started preschool with my oldest son a couple of years ago, and the mistakes were numerous:

1. Turns out there is a BIG difference between teaching one subject five times a day to 7th graders and teaching my own three-year-old how to read.  Classroom management is way easier than home/kid-raising/homeschool management.
2. I looked in all the wrong places for a short list of academic standards for preschoolers.  I eventually found the Typical Course of Study standards from World Book that were much more useful.  
3. I looked at Pinterest.  So many awesome (and overwhelming and overcomplicating) activities to do with him!

And then there is the mental illness.  There is no way I can possibly educate my three children at home well when I struggle with OCD, anxiety, and depression (says my brain).  Wouldn't it be better for them to go to school and learn from someone else?  Wouldn't it be healthier for them to learn from someone who doesn't struggle with mental illness?  Am I doing them a disservice by selfishly wanting to keep them home with me for school?

The short answer, I believe, is no.  I (and they) will be okay.  By the grace of God, we will all be okay.  And on days that I'm not okay, I have support.  My husband.  My parents.  My in-laws.  My friends.  And maybe even a Classical Conversations (CC) community.

After attending a CC open house this morning, I think it could be part of the answer to successful homeschooling for our family.  The rigorous classical curriculum is written on a three year cycle with each age group learning the same content in different ways.  Kids learn terms (really well!) in their younger years, and by the time they are older and go through the content cycle again, they are equipped to learn more deeply.  Communities meet one morning a week throughout the school year with parents serving as tutors.  Kids socialize, experience a school setting, and are accountable to someone other than their parent.  Parents attend with their children, experience community, and collaborate with other parents.  I have more research to do, but this is the way I'm leaning at the moment.

I'm very interested to hear your thoughts on both homeschooling with mental illness and Classical Conversations!

If We're Honest

I heard Francesca Battistelli's song "If We're Honest" yesterday for the first time.  And it really spoke to the theme of what I'm trying to get across on this blog - authenticity.  We all certainly have our issues, and one of my very big ones happens to be mental illness.  I love the truth that this song proclaims.  If you haven't heard it yet (and even if you have), please take a quick listen:

In an interview with Reel Gospel, Francesca discussed this song:

"If We're Honest is the title track, and the theme of that song which ties in with the record is that God has called us to live lives of authenticity.  I think that means that in a culture that says 'Crop the perfect picture of yourself, put a nice filter on it, send it out to the world and let people think that's who you are,' God has called us to be raw and be real.  We should be able to come to each other as brothers and sisters in Christ and say: 'This is what I'm going through.  This is what I'm struggling with.  This is what I need prayer for, or help with.'  It's so hard for us to do that in this culture, and I think God is really calling us to go back to that basic...He created us to live in community with each other.  He created us to need each other.  To be His hands and feet on this earth."


"If We're Honest"

Truth is harder than a lie
The dark sees safer than the light
And everyone has a heart that loves to hide
I'm a mess and so are you
We've built walls nobody can get through
Yeah, it may be hard, but the best thing we could ever do, ever do

[Chorus]:
Bring your brokenness, and I'll bring mine
'Cause love can heal what hurt divides
And mercy's waiting on the other side
If we're honest
If we're honest

Don't pretend to be something that you're not
Living life afraid of getting caught
There is freedom found when we lay
our secrets down at the cross, at the cross

[Chorus]

It would change our lives
It would set us free
It's what we need to be

[Chorus]

Starving the OCD Wolf: Exposure Response Prevention

While OCD can be overwhelming (to say the least), there is hope.  Many people have led joyful and productive lives through a combination of medication and Exposure Response Prevention.  It is possible to starve the wolf!


The Wolf

Consuming.  Intense.  Debilitating.  Disabling.  OCD is a ravenous, howling wolf roaming around just searching for something to eat - an obsession to be anxious over or a compulsion to perform for some measure of relief.  When it gets really bad, it feels like that wolf's howl is all we can hear.  If he's that hungry, maybe it would just be easier to give in to the compulsions and feed him already.  At least it will quiet him down, even if just for a second or two.

He's not always noisy though.  In times of relative mental peace, he can even sound a little friendly.  Like a cute little puppy sweetly begging for something to eat.  And so, because he isn't really bothering us that much,  we give in and feed him just a little bit.  Just a tiny compulsion before moving on to something else.

But feeding that wolf even just a little bit always keeps him coming back for more.  And more.  And more again.  Each time he comes back, his howl is just a little (or a lot) louder.

What if, instead of feeding the wolf by giving in to the compulsions, we starved him instead?


Starving the Wolf

Exposure Response Prevention (ERP) is described by The International OCD Foundation as follows:

"The Exposure in ERP refers to exposing yourself to the thoughts, images, objects and situations that make you anxious and/or start your obsessions.  While the Response Prevention part of ERP, refers to making a choice not to do a compulsive behavior once the anxiety or obsessions have been 'triggered.'"

ERP is, essentially, starving the OCD.  Exposing yourself to the intrusive thoughts and then forcing yourself not to give in to the compulsions that the wolf is howling in your ear MUST BE DONE.


Personal Experience

I hope it doesn't sound like I have this all figured out, because I most definitely do NOT.  But I do have personal experience.

I've mentioned in recent posts that I lapsed in November after having over 3 really good years (!).  There were hard days here and there, but overall I totally felt like myself.  I was working 20-30 hours per week (mostly from home), taking care of my (then) two little ones with my husband, and maintaining an active church and social life.  Living well!  Even though the wolf was quieter, however, I still fed him.

• I wrote down prayers asking for forgiveness to make sure I said the right thing.  
• I went through my nightly before-bedtime routine of checking and re-checking (multiple times) the door locks, stove burners, candle, wall outlet, and kids.  
• I checked and re-checked (multiple times) the baby's collar after I put her in the crib to make sure it wasn't too tight and that she could breathe, in addition to checking that nothing except she and her pacifier were in the crib.

Then, on the morning of Monday, October 26, I started praying compulsively (again) for God's forgiveness, and what had been manageable not long before quickly became unmanageable and spiraled into many other obsessions and compulsions.  I was terrified of so many things.  I returned to an intrusive obsession from several years before about the existential meaning of time and how it works.  It sounds so weird as I write that, but it truly became paralyzing.  And unfortunately, it's still a struggle (even within the last week).

My treatment included increasing my medication and starving the wolf through ERP.  I stopped writing down prayers.  I strove to replace false thoughts with true ones.  I determined that trying to figure out time was not focusing on what was lovely and admirable (Philippians 4:8-9), so I forced my brain to refocus on something else.  Eventually the howling started to fade, but not without lots of discomfort on my part.  In fact, it felt like the howling got louder before it got quieter.  But it did get quieter after I pushed through the noise without giving in to the overwhelming anxiety.  And those times when I gave in and fed him?  He got louder.  And louder, and louder, and louder, until the howling became unbearable once again.

Eventually, I had the first time in weeks where more of the day was positive than negative.  And I was able to climb back out of the hole.


Bottom Line

Starving the wolf is a daily - and I do mean daily - battle for me.  Intrusive thoughts pop in to my head all the time, and I'd love to say that I always resist every compulsion.  But that's not realistic.

Let me be clear: I believe that the wolf will probably always be a part of my life here on earth, but he will not be a part of my life in heaven.  God's sustaining grace pulls me through those days when the wolf is howling so loudly that I can't hear much of anything else.

My prayer is to be fully delivered by God in this life.  But even if He chooses not to do that, He is still good.  And sovereign.  And loving.  And, I believe, He is helping me starve the wolf.

My Mental Health Story: A Timeline

Freedom comes with authentic openness, and it is with that mindset that I share with you part of my story.  As I've recently experienced, sharing our stories has the potential to help us in all of our journeys!

• As a kid: 
• What if a burglar breaks in to our house?  
• What if a person close to me hurts me in some way?  This is the first true intrusive thought that I can remember.  I knew that the people in my life would NEVER do  the horrible deeds that I was afraid of, and that led to lots of guilt, even as a young kid. 
• 10 years old: I had my first bout with depression and didn't like myself much at all.  My mom, who has been a huge support to me through my journey, noticed that I was down and asked if I wanted to make sure that I was a Christian.  I did, and even though I'd said the sinner's prayer as a preschooler, this was a significant part of my journey as a Christ-follower. 
• 6th grade: I washed my hands to get rid of germs - over and over and over - which led to them becoming very chapped and dry, even to the point of bleeding.
• Middle School: Checking compulsively became a big problem.
• What if someone is hiding under my bed or in my closet?  
• What if I turn the light switch off with wet hands and start a fire?  Better turn it off with my dry elbow.  And then on again.  And off again.  And on again...
• What if I sinned and didn't ask God for forgiveness?  
• What if the stove is on?
• What if the door isn't locked?
• What if the curling iron was left on?
• What if something got on the toothbrush that will make someone sick?
• Age 15: I became obsessed with not eating much fat.  I ate only about 15 grams each day, and I was very thin.  It got very close to being an eating disorder.
• Age 16: I went on a trip with a friend I didn't know very well to her dad and stepmom's house in a different state.  The environment in this house was very different than what I was used to (alcohol, her stepbrother was a partier who they later found out was gay, we were stuck at the house without a vehicle, etc.).  This stressful trip triggered a lot of OCD.  
• High school: 
• I played conversations I'd had with people over and over in my head to make sure I hadn't said anything wrong.  
• I was also very afraid of free time (with no good reason), so I would fill my days to the brim with activity - compulsively.  
• College:  
• I had a season of intense OCD which caused me to move home (I lived on campus at a local Christian college) for three weeks.  It was during this time that my mom took me to our family doctor who was a friend.  He prescribed medication for me, and he also prayed for me with tears in his eyes.  
• It was soon after this that I met my husband at a Bible study.  We started dating very soon after we met, and I remember wondering before I met him if I would ever meet anyone who would want to untangle the mess that I was on the inside.  When I told him that I was taking medication for depression and anxiety, his response was to tell me something that he was struggling with as well.  What a relief it was that he wasn't repulsed by me!  
• 24th Birthday: My 24th birthday was a low point.  Again, my mom helped me, this time by helping me get in to a Christian counselor.  This is the same one that I'm still currently seeing this many years later.  He encouraged me to adjust my medication, and we eventually found that Zoloft (which I'm still on) works very, very well for me.
• Mid-twenties: I became a middle school teacher after college (and I LOVED it!).  There were some really difficult, foggy days, but I still went through all of the motions to get the job done.  Not easy, but I made it.  
• 2011: After my first son was born, I had a very difficult time postpartum.  He was born 3 1/2 weeks early and aspirated during birth.  This put him in the NICU for 10 days, and that time was extremely stressful.  I took a 14-week maternity leave from teaching in which I felt very lost.  The shock of going from no kids to suddenly having a son was a big one.  I was completely responsible (at least while my husband was at work) for this new little life.  It was overwhelming.  No longer could I fill all of my time up with activity, because I never knew when the baby might need me.  We got through it, but the first 8 months or so of his life were difficult for me.  
• 2012-2015: I went off of medication while trying to get pregnant with baby #2, but I had a very, very difficult time.  I was in lots of distress but still managed to get pregnant.  This son was also born prematurely at 34 weeks.  Surprisingly I did okay after that kid.  He was in the NICU for 8 days, and soon after we left the hospital I felt my thoughts starting to slide toward depression and anxiety.  We immediately upped my medication, and that seemed to do the trick.  I felt pretty much completely fine until this past November after my daughter was born in August.  
• 2015-2016: Body/hormone changes + lack of sleep +caring for a newborn, toddler, and preschooler = lots of OCD triggers!  The past five months have been a bit of a mental roller coaster with existential obsessions (How does time work?  I must figure it out!) and scrupulosity (Do I really believe that Jesus is the Son of God?  What if I'm misinterpreting Scripture?  Have I made God mad?).  I've tried to make changes in my life to better manage my mental illness after my counselor told me in no uncertain terms that if our family was going to be healthy, we were going to have to make some major changes.  At the end of the year, I pulled way, way back from my work.  Even though I was working mostly from home, the stress of trying to get everything done and take care of the kids took its toll.  Since cutting back, I've been able to better take care of myself and my family, even though it's still very hard at times.

I'd love to hear your story if you're willing!

"Acceptance is the Enemy of OCD"

"Acceptance is the Enemy of OCD."

At least, that's what my counselor once told me.  I take copious notes at all of my sessions, and I recently found this phrase in some of those notes from a few years ago.  What does "acceptance" mean, exactly?  How do I "accept" that I have OCD?  And anxiety?  And depression?

After a very high-anxiety day on Saturday, I woke up with it again yesterday.  I tried to resist it, ignore it, do all of the things I'm supposed to do, but it just wouldn't leave.  Finally, after feeding everyone lunch, I started to cry and shut myself in my room so that the boys wouldn't be aware that I was upset.  

The depressive thoughts that often accompany anxiety started in:

• This just won't leave!  
• Why am I STILL dealing with this in my 30's after it started when I was so young?
• I just want this struggle to go away.
• This is so huge and all-encompassing.
• I'm so overwhelmed.
• This is more than I can bear.
• Something is really wrong with me.
• My heart, my mind, my life....just feels so heavy.
• Why can't I make this go away?
• My kids deserve better than this.
• My husband deserves better than this.
• This is affecting everything I so very badly don't want it to affect.
• I can't possibly be a good parent when I'm feeling this bad.

After taking a few minutes to cry and pray (not compulsively), I composed myself to get everyone down for naps.  And then I was able to talk my feelings out with my husband, who has been a wonderful support to me throughout the almost-eleven years we've been together.  He reminded me that beating myself up for having the intrusive thoughts that I honestly can't help only worsens the depression.  It makes a manageable problem (OCD) way less manageable because of all of the emotion that comes from the depression.  I need to accept that this is something that I deal with.  And when I can do that - "there's that anxiety again" - things become a little bit more bearable.   

So, I'm trying to accept it, but I'm not really sure how.  Suggestions?

Mental Illness and the Church - Christianity Today article

Interesting Christianity Today article by Ed Stetzer,  See below for some relevant portions from A New Approach to Mental Illness in the Church:

• "...there is a unique challenge created for Christians, who believe God heals people. He heals our hearts of an all-encompassing sin condition, and he heals physical illness. But when we experience situations...where clear healing did not take place, we are often overcome with unanswered questions."
• "I was unprepared to deal with mental illness, and by my actions, I almost denied that it is even real. Of course, I would have been prepared for any number of other forms of illness. If someone had come to my church with a broken leg, I would have recommend they go see a doctor. For virtually any other illness, I would have said the same."
• "The fact is that mental illness and spiritual struggle can be (and are) related. We are not separate things, we are complex people—remarkable connected in spirit, soul, body, mind, etc. But, let me be direct here: if we immediately dismiss the possibility of mental illness and automatically assume spiritual deficiency, our actions amount to spiritual abuse.
• "The reality is that regardless of the situation—even in the most prepared church—mental illness can be deep, traumatic, and life-changing. Even if our churches talk about the issue and have a plan to address it with our own people, it tends to be a long road to healing or discerning how to manage the disease. Ministering to those struggling with mental illness, and the family members of those struggling, requires a tremendous amount of grace, but God’s people should be first in line to offer it."
• "Mental illness, mental disease, is a reality."
• "To ignore the reality of mental illness hampers our ability as the church to have robust, intelligent, helpful conversations to find ways to come alongside those who are suffering and offer hope. Churches and leaders, we must offer hope."

Flowers from Rain

I remember the first time I heard the phrase "April showers bring May flowers."  For some reason, it's one of those random memories from childhood that sticks out.  The phrase came back to my mind today as I was driving in the rain.  I'm sure I'm not the first one to make this connection, but flowers, things of beauty, need rain.  These beautiful flowers are not possible without the rain.  Maybe we personally experience greater joy from going through the struggle and heartache of mental illness.

As I referenced in yesterday's post, the past five months have been somewhat of a thunderstorm of OCD/anxiety/depression.  But today and yesterday, I've experienced the flowers.  Even in the midst of the intrusive thoughts that continue to threaten me, my heart has overflowed with joy four times since yesterday afternoon, and all because of other people:

• My sister told me of how her wonderful boyfriend sees and treats her as the treasure that she is.
• I can't remember exactly what was said between my two boys in the car, but they were playing so well together and having the cutest preschooler conversation.  
• The third time happened just a few minutes ago when my oldest son was interacting so, SO sweetly with his baby sister and making her laugh.  It was precious.  
• And as I write this, I'm listening to my just-turned-three-year-old yell-singing from his bed when he should be napping.  He was just calling for help, and I went to see what he needed.  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  He was pretending to be Woody from Toy Story with his stuffed animals, and Woody was calling for help.  

Such simple things, but would I feel these joys so deeply had I not experienced such deep suffering?  Would these feelings of joy be the same regardless of my struggle?  Or do I feel them more deeply because I have intensely felt the opposite?

Laura Story has a song called "Blessings" that beautifully speaks to this.  Here is the chorus:

"'Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops?

What if your healing comes through tears?

What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near?

What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?"

Thank God for the flowers!