One day when a young mother of two (very energetic) little boys looked at me with tired, defeated eyes and said, “I don't know how you do it. Please tell me it gets easier.” I wanted to be able to tell her that one day, her boys would wake up and BAM! All the hard stuff would be over and the rest would be a cake walk. But I can not tell a lie.
So, I just explained how I cope. It didn't come over night. There were times I thought I might end up in prison for the bodily harm I wanted to inflict on my offspring. Don't gasp. If you're a mom and say you haven't had these thoughts, you're a liar!
Patience isn't something I was born with. It's something that I had to work at for a very, very long time. I think it's a learned behavior but just like playing piano, drawing, or writing a good story, I don't believe everyone can be taught.
So, in walks prayer. Prayer should always be our first step, but often, we use it as a last resort. I'm not really sure why. Just seems to be how we're wired.
Women and especially moms are doers and fixers. We like to do things on our own, in our own time, without guidance, advice, or much help from anyone else. I think it helps us to feel a sense of accomplishment if we can complete a task without relying on anybody for anything! Sadly sometimes, even God.
I would like to have stopped there and told her that I just have an extreme amount of patience and spend a lot of time in prayer. That's how I deal with having five rowdy children that are never quiet for more than three minutes at a time and won't let me go to the bathroom by myself.
But I had to share the third P. Prozac.
This is foreign and unaccepted by a lot of Christians in today’s society. My opinion on the subject is this, God made doctors, he gave those doctors the knowledge and understanding to get inside our heads and know what's going on in there. We should never stop relying on God and put our trust in a pill.
Different people deal with anxiety/depression in different ways. I believe with all my heart that God can and will deliver me from mine, in His time. There's a reason He hasn't yet. I've cried, begged, pleaded, and wondered many, many times when my day would come. When I wouldn't be a mental case anymore that couldn't cope without a pill. “Not yet.” Is always His answer.
So, in the mean time Prozac is my best friend. We go everywhere together. When I first started taking it I was on one pill per day. I went back to the doctor after six weeks with bloodshot eyes and crazy hair and said, “I don't think this medicine's working.” The doctor looked at me without any questions and recommended we up the dosage.
That was almost two years ago, I'm now taking three pills per day and I'm doing great!
Oh, I still have an off day now and again. That's usually when I hear the kids in the other room asking Curtis,”Did Mommy run out of her crazy pills again?”
So, mommy's. If you ever look at that put together, perfect mom in town. And you wonder just how in the world she seems to keep everything straight: Her daughters gymnastics, her oldest sons basketball, her other sons soccer, her dog is bathed regularly, never a dirty spot on/in her car, she volunteers at the homeless shelter, she sings in the church choir, her make up is perfect, and she posts on Facebook at least five times/week about her amazing workout...yada yada yada.
Just remember nobody's got it all together all the time. She's probably trusting in my philosophy. Patience, Prayer, and Prozac.
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