The Wonder of Ordinary Days

Last night at the dinner table one of the kids commented that it was the six month anniversary of the evacuation. (Well, the first time, we did sneak back in at one point!) Six months. Where did the time go? In some ways it seems like yesterday, the immediacy of the moment, the adrenaline of throwing everything out of the market trailer and praying that the pasteurizer would survive the hurried move from dairy to trailer...trying to grab as many collars in hand as we could to load up the goats...corralling Noah as he kept sneaking out the back of the van to grab yet one more essential item (kittens and microwave popcorn!) In other ways I look outside and it all fades away to a (thankfully) very faint and distant memory because everything here now is so very ordinary.

When I woke up this morning and headed down the hall to start getting everyone up and moving I had to navigate three rubbermaid totes, each with a set of baby goats and as I wrote this line I got a call from home of yet one more set of girl/boy twins. It is with thankfulness that we have babies this Spring as we left most of the bucks at home when we evacuated.

We have had a busy week or so of phone calls and emails and texts as we contact all of our milk customers who have been waiting (some of them patiently) for the goats to kid so that they could once again buy milk from us. (Yes, the pasteurizer survived the hurried trip off the farm and back again.)

The pasteurizer is once again running daily as we alternate batches of fluid product such as milk and yogurt with cheese. Soon we might have to go to doing back to back batches at least two days a week in order to allow room in the refrigerators. There is simply no denying that a gallon of milk stores much more efficiently as cheese than as milk!

We are making a large chart of debt accrued over the very difficult Winter that has to be paid off--as the children are older (several of them no longer actually children) we decided that we want to work together as a family paying down this debt. They know that we are bringing in more money now that the goats are in milk and we want them to see where this money goes and to have a say in what gets paid, when. We started the business in large measure not only to provide for the family financially but to give our children tools with which they will be able to build their own future and being active participants in the decision making is to be a part of this. One of the biggest challenges that we are facing with this approach is differentiating for some of our children that the fact that we disagree with how they might approach matters does not mean that we did not listen and consider their opinion. I am thinking of having a tee-shirt made that says "I listened--I just don't agree." Also part of the goal of paying off this debt as a family is to also plan something for the end of the process--maybe a camping trip?

Also navigated as I walked down the hall was a pile of library books. Seems they were pulled out to decide what needed to be returned and what renewed for school. We did the feudal system the last two weeks, this week and the next we are moving on to the Crusades. I can't wait to see what happens when Noah learns about the Children's Crusade.

The house has been full of the typical Spring conversations of changes that we want to see on the farm. There is just something about this time of year that causes forward thinking--what new pens and fences do we want to see? Those new shelters that I have been idly designing in my head are now no longer whispering in the background but clamoring for attention. We look at the baby goats and make decisions. What direction do we want to take? What bloodlines do we want to focus on this year? How many do we really want to milk? What products do we want to develop or bring back after the Winter's hiatus and which ones will we let wither? It is a particular source of joy that Tim is actively involved in these discussions after so many months not able to participate due to being distracted by his internal demons.

I am currently sitting in McDonald's getting caffeinated while I wait for Tim to finish driving his morning school bus route. I drove in with him this morning so that we could go in together to an early morning meeting in support of a new local farmers market. I do not see that we can fit one more market into our schedule, nor do we anticipate having the product to allow us to do so but we absolutely want to support the community in establishing such a market. A new market could give local farmers more access to customers and if the market becomes well established it could also bring in dollars from outside the immediate area. We also like the idea of reintroducing people to an ancient form of transacting business. For millennia people have been bringing their goods to town to sell. This continues to be the underpinning of the economies of many towns large and small across the world and we are excited to see it perhaps coming to our neck of the woods, so to speak.

In a very real sense, we are experiencing a rebirth. When we returned home from the evacuation we were struck with this same sense. Everything at home was more dear and precious for having almost lost it. Unfortunately that sense was nearly submerged in the difficult winter that followed. With the Spring and the return of the normal yet sublime joys that come with that season, the sense of living in a time and place uniquely crafted for us as a gift from the hand of God returns and I, for one, intend to revel in it.

Where Are The Depression Ribbons?

When I posted about our family struggles with depression and it's evil twin, anxiety, I did not know what to expect. I do know that what I did not expect were the comments from those who had suffered alongside their depressed family members. I appreciate the posts, they make me feel as if somehow I am not the only person who knows what it is to live in the shadows like I have for the past 26+ years. The main feeling I am left with, though, is overwhelming sadness that others have to know this life--and anger.

When Tim and I married, over 26 years ago, I doubt either of us had any clue what "depression" was. I am not sure that I had ever even heard the term used as a medical diagnosis. Back then I knew that sometimes people were crazy (after all, I had to read "One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest" in honors English in high school) and that sometimes people got down in the dumps, but other than the really, really in-your-face conditions, I had no understanding of mental illness as, well as an illness.

All I knew experientially was that after a whirlwind relationship of a few months, I married this wonderful guy who made me laugh, made me feel safe and with whom I spun the most enticing dreams for the future. And that within weeks he was struggling to get out of bed. Is it any wonder that my conclusion was that he was unhappy in our two month old marriage and that he regretted it? We now know that even positive life changes can sometimes precipitate episodes of depression.

As the years went on there were times of respite and relapse. There were days when getting out of bed was a struggle and many many times when he went places only to placate his aggravated wife. For Tim the commonplace yet exquisite joys of life such as new parenthood, jobs and accomplishments were often shrouded in a numbing fog. As for me, I struggled to understand why what seemed like the simplest tasks were a struggle and why I often felt like I was celebrating alone. Yet he still made me laugh. He provided the focus to my scatter when my ADHD whirled me away into spreading circles of thought. He grounded me, calling me back to center when I would wander off in belief or action.

He assured me that I was not the cause but it was oh-so-hard to believe or understand. If he was happy in our marriage, why wasn't he happy? I had never seen him struggle like this before we were married, only after. Of course knowing him less than a year, being in a romantic relationship less than four months might have been part of the reason that I had not seen this side of him--one reason that I encourage my daughters and sons to take time to know as much as is possible, who they are marrying. Would it have changed my decision? I doubt it, but I might have been more prepared and less likely to believe that *I* was the cause of his struggles.

I have to say that the confusion and uncertainty has been the worst part of being married to someone with depression. This is uncharted territory, after all when we marry it is because we believe that the person that we marry will make us happy and that we will likewise make them happy. No one gets married, thinking “hey, we may just trudge through in misery but what do we have to lose?”

It was in the early 90's that we realized that we might actually be dealing with a "condition". With a medical "condition" comes hope for relief. He tried first one, then another, then yet another antidepressant, with the hope fading.

He sought out therapy from secular and religious based counselors. Some were good, some were horrid, most were neither here nor there.

There were some among friends and family who understood and supported, but most did not, so he struggled largely alone--and his family suffered alongside.

Why? I now know that depression is not uncommon, antidepressants are among the most commonly prescribed medications in our society. Yes, they may be prescribed "off-label" for ailments other than depression, but the fact remains that hundreds of thousands of people take them for the conditions for which they were developed. This is a huge segment of the pharmaceutical industry with millions of dollars spent on research and development. Supposedly mental illness has made great gains in "coming out of the closet" and being seen as a genuine illness, so why are so many still suffering? I have gotten messages and emails and private comments from family readers who have suffered alongside their depressed/anxious/bi-polar family members for years, largely alone. Why the continued struggles, despite the plethora of medication options? Why are they and their families still ashamed to share their challenges? Why are they so confused? There are reminders to have one's cholesterol checked, lists of common cancer warning signs posted in doctor's offices. Men drive cars with bumper stickers admonishing us to "check the ta-tas" and anything that possibly can be adorned with a pink ribbon seems to be. We all march in for our mammograms, should there be questionable results we know the specialists to see and the path to take is clearly mapped out. Yet time and time again I hear of families who were caught off guard by mental illness, were unable to get answers from their doctors, felt cut adrift with no clue where to turn for help and with little family support even when they could find help. Why are families still being ripped apart at the seams because they lack direction and guidance that might enable them to know how to seek help and how to better support their loved ones? Why are children still growing up confused and unsure what exactly is wrong with mom or dad? I have nothing against resources being directed to fight cancer, but having participated in that fight several times with different family members I have come to see firsthand the difference in how society handles the two illnesses. It isn't just the patient suffering, or the wives or husbands who feel helpless and hopeless, or their kids, many of whom are robbed of their parents. Data shows that as a society mental illness costs us billions of dollars. That is BILLIONS, with a B. We all pay a huge price and the ripples spread far--the figures look at disability payments, direct medical costs and loss of earnings. What if we extrapolate it out and look at the impact mental illness has in areas such as the so-called "war on drugs", with many mentally ill turning to street drugs in an attempt to self-medicate? One promising treatment option is currently available only as part of a research study--unless one wanted to turn to the party drug scene where the same medication that is showing such promise in clinical trials is readily available.

In the end, I am just angry. Angry and sad. I see families destroyed, individuals crushed and often as much from a lack of support and guidance as from the actual illness. Where are the road maps and the treatments that we can take to get from crazy and alone to functional, healthy and productive?

On a personal level--Tim is doing much better. We are trying (yet another) medication. It has been concluded that we are dealing with Treatment Resistant Depression and it was suggested that we consider other treatment options such as Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation ($$$) or even Electroconvulsive Therapy (ouch). It is hard to feel urgency about researching new options when he is on the upside, but as much as I would like hope and dream that we will stay on the upside, unlike when we first married, I know that it is only a matter of time until we are facing the downside again.

Birthday!

Today is Linnea's sixteenth birthday. Linnea is somewhat of an anomaly here at our place. She does not look like a miniature Tim, as do most of her siblings. She is an organizational wizard and a fiend for routine. When it is her month to be in charge of the kitchen you had better not pour yourself a cup of coffee and set it on the counter-top while you turn to get cream because by the time you turn back to your cup of coffee it will be dumped, the cup washed and back in the cupboard because it "messed up the kitchen". She has been the family barrista for four years, having taken over for Katarina. The surest way to get her out of bed in the morning is to suggest that someone else make the coffee that day.

She is passionate about history, particularly the history of Texas and the South. She has been so immersed in studying southern history that she found is scandalous to learn that she had an ancestor on her father's side who was a spy for the Union--and a woman to boot.

She is also the daughter who is the most fashion-sensitive (though still adamant about modesty) and the only one of the girls even slightly interested in wearing make-up. What does she want for her birthday? Fingernails like mom's and to go bowling with the family.

I think we can manage that.