Kirsten Panachyda

Writer, Speaker, Singer-Songwriter

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Tag: parenting

5 reasons i’m Writing among lions

I’m sitting on the lanai (a screened-in patio) outside my parents’ house in Florida trying to work. It can be hard here not to feel like I’m on vacation every day. But I’ve been here a while, escaping the Syracuse, NY winter, and I can’t just lounge by the pool and nap.

Actually the past couple of months have been productive ones. Besides improving my health and fitness and attending the wonderful Florida Christian Writers Conference, I’ve put in many hours writing. I have several articles in the works in addition to this blog. But the biggest chunk of time has been spent on two book projects. The first is nonfiction, working title: Among Lions: Fighting for Faith while Parenting a Kid with Mental Illness. The second is historical fiction, working title: A Hand Outstretched.

When my older son was grown and my younger son was becoming more stable and able to manage his bipolar disorder, I sat down to write. Writing has always been the passion and the plan. At first, I was waiting until the boys were more independent in their work in homeschooling. I figured they would be about 14 and 16 when I really settled in to serious endeavor. But then Nicholas got sick, and priorities shifted. When Nicholas was 18, I finally hunkered down to write the novel set in first-century Britain that I had been tinkering with for over a decade.

Somehow another book kept coming out of my fingers. One for all the parents who were like me — scared and sad and trying desperately to care for their kids suffering from emotional or mental illness. So I set aside the novel, and wrote Among Lions. 

Five Reasons for Writing Among Lions: 

1) There are at least 8 million adolescents age 13-18 in the US currently diagnosed with a mental illness. All of these have parents or caregivers struggling to navigate a very difficult life. One in five kids will need help with depression or other mental illness. This ratio is the same in the church.  Parents need help.

2) Stigma against mental illness keeps families isolated and without support. We need more voices reaching out saying, “This is my experience too. You’re not alone.”

3) Beyond the question of “Can my kid get well?” there are other questions: “Will my marriage survive? How will my other kids be affected? Can my faith withstand this pain?” Parents need more than information on how to help the kid who is sick. They need to know how to defend against the beasts which will attack their souls. 

4) Scripture, stories from other parents, professional input, and new ways of looking at life as a caregiver infuse courage into the soul-weary. This has become my privilege and my mission.

5) This is the book I wish I had when Nicholas got sick.

Among Lions has won a first place Tapestry award and has attracted publisher interest. Would you pray for this project to reach the hearts for whom God intends it? 

Next post: Why am I writing that weird historical novel?

Nature: Tool for Destressing and Restoring

 

Rocky Mountain National Park

 

Tax season is upon us. Some people spend hours in their home offices doing the painstaking task of reading through all the tax booklets and filling in schedules. Dan and I think its enough work to organize and gather our documents and bring them to an accountant. Of course, Dan had to drive through a snowstorm to drop it all off.

We all know taxes are a fact of life. I choose to improve my attitude about it by deciding in my own mind what my personal taxes pay for. So when I fret over the withheld money on the pay stub or the check I need to write to the government, I tell myself, “I don’t know what other people are spending this money on, but I am funding libraries and parks. And sanitation workers.”

I am thrilled to be part owner of the city, county, state, and national parks. Regular use of these resources improves the quality of my life. There have been many times when sitting on a public beach or walking a lakeside trail has made it possible for me to face the hard circumstances waiting for me when I left. I feel a loosening, a freeing, when I spend time in nature. God speaks healing into my soul through His creation.

More and more research bears out the beneficial effects of the natural world on mental health. I started looking into these studies first with the intent of finding new ways to support my son in his recovery. But I believe the benefits are for everyone who seeks to improve mental wellness, not least the stressed and distressed parents of kids with mental illness.

How can connections with the natural world help us, and how can we make use of them?

1) Nature helps improve attention and focus. 

In studies, time in a natural setting has been found to improve attention both in people with and without disorders like ADHD. This is not the effect of extra physical exercise, which tends to increase when people are outside. Subjects were tested doing the same activities (eg walking, soccer) in indoor and outdoor settings. Also,the positive effects on attention, concentration, and memory continue even after the the time in nature is over. (“Why ‘Getting Away’ in Nature is Good for your Mental Health,” Ellen Hendricksen Ph.D Savvy Psychologist, Scientificamerican.com, 11/7/18)

2) Time in natural settings aids emotional regulation.

Did you know city-dwellers have a higher risk of anxiety and mood disorders and even schizophrenia? Lack of access to the natural world may be a factor. A study by Stanford researchers discovered that brain scans show decreased activity in the part of the brain that produces repetitive thought focused on negative emotion after 90 minutes spent in a natural setting. (“Stanford Researchers Find Mental Health Prescription:Nature,” Rob Jordan, news.stanford.edu, 6/30/2015)

3) The setting is flexible. 

Experiments in using nature-focused programming in the UK to specifically treat people with mental illnesses have shown great promise. One interesting facet to the work is that programs have been conducted in a variety of settings, from wooded areas, to beaches, to urban green spaces. All seem to offer similar benefits. This is encouraging because it tells us we can seek out the most convenient and accessible settings to receive the positive effects of time in nature. (“What Makes Nature-Based Interventions for Mental Health Successful?,” Dan Bloomfield, www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov, 11/14/17)

4) Even a little can be beneficial.

For stressed and overbooked parents who need to care for their own mental health, this one is important. We can benefit even from little doses of nature. A houseplant. The tree next to the driveway. A view out a window. Even watching a nature program can help us. The key is to give our attention to things not made by humans for a while. Can’t go to the park for an hour? Notice and appreciate the plantings in the road median. Stuck in a long winter? Spend a couple bucks on a hard-to-kill plant, then spend a few minutes taking care of it and looking at it each day. (Go ahead and talk to it if you want — I won’t tell.)

Robert Treman State Park

For people of faith, it should come as no surprise that science shows connection with nature is good for us. 

Consider:

Romans 1:20 tells us that “since the creation of the world (God’s) invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made…” 

Psalm 23 reminds us that God restores our souls by making us lie down in green pastures and leading us beside still waters. (Psalm 23:2-3) 

And in his Gospel, John writes: “All things came into being through (Jesus, the Word), and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being.” The same Jesus who loved me enough to die for me, who conquered death for me, and who lives to intercede for me (Hebrews 7:25) made all of the natural world. 

If you are looking for ways to battle stress and find restoration for your soul, try looking to nature. 

Both Sides Now

A couple weeks ago I ran across the phrase “ambiguous loss.” Coined by Dr. Pauline Boss, it refers to a sense of grief over something undefined. Dr. Boss originally used the term to to describe the experience of either losing a person who is still physically present, as with dementia, or someone whose physical absence in unexplained, as with a soldier missing in action. The concept of ambiguous loss has extended to something never possessed, or an event that may happen, but doesn’t look likely. For example, the child of immigrants might feel homesickness for a country and culture he never knew. A woman nearing the end of childbearing years may feel the absence of babies she never had, but always assumed she would. The loss is something they never had, and also something that has not quite become an impossibility yet.

Parents whose kids suffer from mental illness feel this ambiguous loss, often without being able to put their fingers on why they feel it. The typical hill-and-valley nature of most mental illness journeys adds to the experience. If a star student athlete endures a devastating injury and can no longer play his sport, he and his family grieves, but the loss in unambiguous. With healthy processing, acceptance can be achieved. It’s different with an injury that may heal and allow the athlete to return, or may never get well enough.

Mental illness usually resembles the second example. Our kids may someday be able to graduate high school, or hold a job, or go to college, or live independently, or have a healthy romance/marriage, or … but they may not. We can’t accept the loss of those things, because that would be like giving up. But we can’t let ourselves dream about those futures either, because how many times can we let our hearts break? We may cry when our friends’ kids start getting married and having babies. We may stay home from church the day all the graduating seniors are honored. But then we feel guilty for assuming we will never have that joy. There is still the possibility that the meds will work, that recovery will continue, that our kids will have full lives with sustainable stability.

When we can’t acknowledge grief, then the process is stunted. Dr. Boss believes that more we can learn to live with two clashing realities, the more the stress of ambiguous loss is lessened:

“We like finite answers. You’re either dead or you’re alive. You’re either here or you’re gone. And let’s say you have someone with dementia or a child with autism, and they’re there, but they’re not always there. So once you put that frame on it, people are more at ease and recognize that may be the closest to the truth that they’re going to get.” (Dr. Pauline Boss, interview, “On Being with Kristen Tippett,” air date June 23, 2016)

Are you struggling with ambiguous loss? Just being able to recognize it is the first important step to lessening its damage to your soul. We can find similar paradoxes in the Christian faith. We are living in both the “now” and the “not yet.” We are “seated with Christ in the heavenly places,” (Ephesians 2:6) but “in this world (we have) trouble.” (John 16:33) Can we learn to rest in knowing that both are truth? Likewise, can we look into the faces of maybe and maybe not, and allow them to coexist?

A tree shedding its flowers or pinecones or whirling seedpods may or may not have offspring. But the in-between of unknowing can still be beautiful. I pray we all find peace with the unknowing.

9 Ways Having a Newborn Prepares us to Parent a Kid with Mental Illness

Newborn Lessons

I remember when my kids were babies. Parenting was overwhelming, especially when the first was a newborn. There were so many things to learn, from which direction the tape on the diaper was supposed to go, to how to cope with the total responsibility for a helpless little human. But I did learn, slowly and imperfectly. When I felt lost in the uncharted seas of my son’s mental illness in the teenage years, it was empowering to know I had already learned so much. Some of the lessons from his infancy were timeless. I pulled out the old mental files and used them again.

Nine Lessons From the Newborn Days:

1) Sleep when they sleep.

Just as it was exhausting to give birth and then nurse a newborn every few hours, it really drains us to care for a kid with extra needs. We need to rest! Also in this category: drink more water, get some sunshine, try to eat the foods your body needs to thrive.

2) Recognize different cries.

One of the most confusing things about parenting a kid with MI is discerning between typical behavior/response and the illness. Teenagers are going through a volatile time of their lives. Through close observation and experience,we can learn when our kids are experiencing extra distress that needs special attention.

3) Encourage them to self-soothe.

When our babies’ needs are taken care of, we can help them learn to settle themselves. When they wake in the night, we can pat them to let them know they are safe and loved. Then, instead of nursing or rocking them all the way to sleep, we can let them try to drift off in their cribs. When our teenagers are in distress, we can ensure they are not in crisis, then give them the chance to use healthy coping skills.

4) Swaddling is calming.

Sometimes. One of my babies would calm right down when a blanket was wrapped tight around him. My friend’s baby liked to be wrapped as long as his hands were free. My other baby would cry until he was unwrapped and could kick his legs freely. With our kids with MI, we can try different levels of closeness when they are in distress, then watch to see what works best.

5) Symptoms should be taken more seriously.

When my newborn had a temperature over 100 and was uninterested in eating, the doctor sent us to the emergency room. When my seven-year-old had the same symptoms, she advised fever reducers, rest, and watchfulness. Likewise, certain behaviors or moods are indications of more danger for a kid with MI than a typical kid.  It’s appropriate to be extra cautious.

6) Don’t tiptoe around.

It can be tempting to adjust the noise and activity level when new babies are in the house. However, if they become used to only hushed voices and lullabies, then any unexpected noise will wake or startle them. It’s better to carry on the rhythms of normal life. Our kids with MI need to live in this world and among people. They need to learn resiliency and how to function in situations that are not crafted to accommodate them. This is not to say we should not be considerate and sensitive to their needs. But we should not act as if they are the only important souls in the family.

7) Cheer for smiles and first steps.

What is easy for big kids is hard for babies. We celebrate their milestones and don’t expect first attempts to be perfect. When a kid with depression takes steps toward wellness, whether it’s a homework assignment, sitting and watching a movie with the family, changing his sheets, or going for a walk, let’s not dwell on how much more or better he could be doing. Enjoy a quiet moment of celebration and respond positively to his efforts.

8) Expect messiness and don’t take it personally.

Babies are messy. For every adorable moment in ruffled ankle socks or a fuzzy bear hat, there is a blown out diaper or sweet-potato-spit-up on the sweater Grandma knit. We may sigh, but we don’t take it personally. Life with mental illness can be messy too. Steps forward and back. Progress and relapse. Meds that work, then inexplicably stop working. Ensuing relationship conflicts. Our weariness and grief can make it all feel personal. It can help to keep repeating, “It’s the illness. It’s the illness.” 

9) Ask for advice, but trust your instinct too.

As a new mom, I read soooo many parenting books. It was helpful to have that wealth of information and I used a lot of what I learned. But it didn’t take long to realize that some of the advice was contradictory. Sometimes, none of it pertained to my unique child. There’s also a lot of advice, some great, some pretty awful, about parenting a kid with mental illness. We need to sift through, use what’s helpful, and then recognize that we know our kids best. Teachable, but discerning.

BONUS:

Dedicate them to God. 

In our church, we practice child dedication, where we acknowledge our children are gifts from God, and we are just stewards of their lives. We offer our parenting to Him, to seek His way and His wisdom. We express gratitude that God has shared the gift of these souls with us, and recognize that they belong to their Creator. We pledge to faithfully do our part and entrust the rest to Him. This mindset has been the most important road to peace for me when the parenting journey got tough because of my son’s mental illness. I pray it helps you too.

The Long Dark

It is coming. The longest dark. I was born into it, just a day before winter solstice. My ancestors lived for centuries near the arctic circle in Finland, where the long dark gathers up a great swath of the year and holds it in a cold embrace.  I should be built for it; I should handle it better.

Instead I sleep, even longer than the dark lingers in the morning. And again when dark creeps toward the house in the late afternoon. I sit in front of a therapy light. Vitamin D capsules accompany breakfast. Boxes on a calendar grow a pattern of  X connecting X, filling in toward the red circle marking the day I leave for south and sun.

Dark makes me vulnerable. For others, different triggers scrape away at defensive layers. The raw spots are prone to infection from doubt, weariness, a sense of losing the fight. The triggers may differ, but vulnerability is universal. 

For parents whose kids struggle with mental illness, the defensive layers may be thin. A relapse, a post on social media about someone else’s child’s accomplishment, an unhappy anniversary of illness- all can reveal our hurt places. Unpacking the Christmas ornaments with their reminders of happier times, attending festivities while feeling numb, hearing about hope and joy and peace when these seem so far- these can wound as well.

I find wisdom in the old manner of celebrating Christmas. Advent, starting four Sundays before the big day, used to be a meditative approach to the celebration of Christ’s birth. Like Lent, it was meant to be a time of reflection, fasting, and prayer. I love that Advent can be seen as an acceptance of the long dark. Before the celebration of the Light.

At the time of the first Christmas, the Jews in Israel lived in vulnerability. They were at the mercy of the occupying Romans. Four hundred years had passed since the last prophecies. They understood the long dark. Zacharias, his wife Elizabeth, and their son John showed us how to celebrate Advent: with expectation, faith, and acknowledgement that the light was not yet. 

Zacharias, a priest, foretold the role his son John the Baptist would play in preparing the way for Jesus, and then he sang out his great hope:

Because of the tender mercy of our God,

With which the Sunrise from on high 

Shall visit us,

To shine upon those who sit in darkness

And the shadow of death,

To guide our feet in the way of peace.

(Luke 1:78-79)

Thank You God, that in Your tender mercy You don’t ignore the long dark. Thank You that You visited us when Christ came. Thank you that You are the Sunrise who remains with us. Thank You for Your peace soothing our hurt, guiding our way. Shine on us, Light of the World. 

A Simple Birthday Card

                        Unsent

Unsent

Do you procrastinate ordinary things? And the more time that goes by, the more the thing looms and gains importance? A simple birthday card, waiting for a stamp. Now it’s late- you can’t just send it like that, so you open it to add a handwritten letter. Now it needs a stamp and a new envelope. More time goes by- you can’t just send it like that. It needs a small gift, so you set aside the card, letter, and torn envelope until you can shop, wrap, package, and go to the post office.

Your friend never gets her birthday card. Or so I’ve heard.

My dear blog friends, this is your birthday card. The longer life pushed off writing, the more I felt that the next post had to be profound. Life-changing! The Best Thing I’ve ever written!

Would it be okay if I just let you know that God is still holding on to me- and I know He will do the same for you?

There have been lots of ups and downs in the last month. Crisis returned to visit as Nicholas’s stability crumbled. He did an incredible job of seeking help, and ended up staying in a psychiatric facility near his college for a week. He’s doing much better now, but his semester took a nosedive. Dan and I went on a couple’s vacation and had a wonderful time. We spent Thanksgiving break working through options for Nicholas and supporting him as he tried to make up missed school work. Things were looking up. A couple days after he returned to school after break, he called for another intense conversation. He’s decided to salvage as many of the credits for the fall semester as possible, and then… not return to college.

There are many paths, and college is only one of them. I fully acknowledge that reality.

Also real: discouragement, disappointment, concern for the future, a teeny bit of selfish regret that empty-nesting only lasted three months, a deep longing that Nicholas will find his path, sadness that mental illness will probably always be a factor.

More real than any of that:

“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life,

nor angels, nor principalities,

nor things present, nor things to come,

nor powers,

nor height, nor depth,

nor any other created thing,

will be able to separate us from the love of God,

which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Romans‬ ‭8:38-39‬ ‭NASB‬‬

How are all of you doing?

Wonders of Old

When I tell our story, I often say that for now, we are on the other side of the “crisis years.” During those three plus years of teetering on the edge, it seemed like we would never be okay again. There were days when I was sure Nicholas would not outlive his teen years. But even in those dark times of endless stress, God shed His light on our way. He brought unexpected comfort and fun, even a (carefully managed) family vacation. He sent people to guide, educate, and be part of the care team. Most of all, Holy Spirit spoke to our hearts about our security in God’s love.

During your crisis time, has there been light on your way? What are the moments and provisions that point you back to the love of God?

For me, living in the for now, fear is something to battle. It likes to creep around on the edges of my mind and pounce when I’m feeling tired or something has triggered painful memories. Fear itself is not real, in that its object is not part of my current situation. However, it’s not based on unreality either. Nicholas has a chronic illness. Bipolar Disorder needs to be managed, and relapses are possible. The fact is we might actually be in between crisis times, and there’s no way to know.

Circumstances can change at any time, but God never does. When we are again in the day of trouble, there is a way to peace:

“I shall remember the deeds of the Lord;
Surely I will remember Your wonders of old.
I will meditate on all Your work, and muse on all Your deeds.
Your way, O God, is holy;
What god is great like our God?
You are the God who works wonders;
You have made known Your strength among the peoples.”
Psalm 77:11-14

Did God perform wonders for me in the crisis years? Yes- my whole heart, my intact marriage, my close relationships with my sons, and especially my magnified trust in God all testify to what He did in and for me. Remembrance battles fear now, and will help me survive future crisis. The writer of the psalm emphasizes the principle with a call to muse, to meditate.

How about you? Go back to what came to mind about the light, moments, and provisions God brought you during crisis. How has He shown His love and faithfulness to you? Challenge yourself to make a list of people, resources, glimpses of beauty, spiritual insights, personal growth and whatever else you are grateful for.

When the light seems dim, go back and meditate on God’s wonders of old.

My Boy from Before

Missing my Kid
Artist:Giotto

I miss my kid.

A few months ago I did a ten-part series on the worst pains of parenting a kid with mental illness (you can find that here). There was one I left out, not because it didn’t belong, but because it seemed like it needed its own space.

The mourning over the kids who used to inhabit our lives aches in us. So much can be stolen away: laughter, silliness, moments of growth, flashes of new insight. The “awww” moments of peeking in on them while they sleep. The messy, chaotic, normal interactions with siblings full of play and squabbles. The way they enjoyed their hobbies or sports.

When Nicholas was really sick, he seemed gone from me. It wasn’t that I didn’t love the boy who was there. I did, fiercely. He was still mine. But the Nicholas from before mental illness seemed to be present only in briefly glimpsed shadows. Sometimes I spent long hours looking at photographs of him and other times could hardly bear to think about him, my boy from before. It wasn’t that he had grown up and moved away. He had not died and left this world. He was just gone.

Sometimes when I left visiting hours at the hospital, I would get back in the car and turn on songs about loss. Volume up, almost to pain, I would sing along with force and rage. I would get to the end of a song, press repeat, and sing it again. I wrote one too:

“In a paper gown in the sonogram room
The door clicks shut and I wait.
If I stay in bed, can I keep you safe
Or am I losing you today?
Four months later I hold you close
As I meet you face to face
Glad I brought you this far
But every mama knows
She’ll lose her baby someday…”

I’ve heard that being being a parent helps us understand God’s heart toward us. I find this true- the protective, do-anything-for-you, unquenchable love that I have for my kids echoes the love of God. My grief over my boy from before also echoes this love. When Israel had turned away from their God, He yearned over them:

“When Israel was a child, I loved him,
and out of Egypt I called my son.
But the more they were called,
the more they went away from me.
They sacrificed to the Baals
and they burned incense to images.
It was I who taught Ephraim (Israel) to walk,
taking them by the arms;
but they did not realize it was I who healed them.
I led them with cords of human kindness, with ties of love.
To them I was like one who lifts a little child to the cheek,
and I bent down to feed them.”
‭‭Hosea‬ ‭11:1-4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

God understood my heart. More, I had a window into His.

Dear friends, maybe you are grieving your gone-but still-here kid. I pray God will comfort your sore heart. If I can pray for you, please let me know in the comments or through my contact page.

Book Homes

A part of one of the dozen-plus bookcases in my home.

Books have always been one of my great escapes. I was the kid who brought a book to the Superbowl party. My math teacher routinely confiscated books during class (I wasn’t as sneaky as I thought), and returned the stack on Friday. When I spent months in a hospital with Crohns Disease at age 14, I slipped away from the pain and homesickness in the deeper home of my books.

Three decades, my heart was in a hospital again, a piece of it anyway, the part that is called Nicholas. Books came to the rescue again. I went back to old favorites, because I needed to make sure they would do their job- uplift me, rather than bring emotional upset. My emotions were already plenty upset.

Here is some of my reading list from that time:

All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot, and then all the sequels.
At Home in Mitford by Jan Karon, and then all the other Mitford books
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

Although I preferred to read to escape, I also read to help me with the steep learning curve of parenting a kid with mental illness. There are many, many books for this. Some that helped me the most:

You are Not Alone by Dena Yohe
The Novelist by Angela Hunt (this is fiction exploring the parent’s heart when a young adult son first develops a mental illness- creative and healing)
Stop Walking on Eggshells by Paul T. Mason and Randi Kreger

Full disclosure: I also watched a lot of TV. I remember watching many episodes of Bones, which ran in 3-4 hour stretches during the times in between visiting hours. All those experts and interns became my TV friends.

How about you? How do you escape and soothe when things are overwhelming?

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