Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put 'em in quotations

Say what you need to say [x8]

Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead,
If you could only ...

Say what you need to say [x8]

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open

Say what you need to say

My neighbor Donna took me to lunch yesterday. We rarely get the time to talk without some little person screaming that they need a band-aid or a snack or a ride, so it was an unusual treat for both of us.

Donna has been one of two of the angels championing the meal donations for our family over the last five weeks. She's also been the "go to" woman for those who've been searching for more info on our situation, which has put her in a somewhat awkward position, not knowing exactly what I would want her to divulge. Its the tricky part of my diagnosis- if I had cancer or a broken leg, one would not hesitate to state plainly and factually what was going on. But there exists an unspoken stigma in our culture when it comes to depression or other psychological impairments....the reality of which is that there are millions suffering in silence with diseases no one wants to discuss....and sometimes those secrets have tragic consequences.

I live in a smallish suburb of Pittsburgh. Most of the people in my community are aware, from one source or another, that I'm having a difficult time right now. And what is so amazing, really, is that everyone seems to get it, and some are even sharing their own journeys with me, of depression or anxiety- being on meds- feeling crazy.

Perhaps when this time in my life has passed, and I'm out and about like I used to be, I will get some stares, and maybe there will be some whispers. But I've decided not to care about that, because deep in my soul, the truth seems much more important right now- and there is a sacredness to sharing your imperfections without caution- I believe there is a unity formed- with humanity- amongst those of us who are suffering or have suffered- the mothers who feel crazy sometimes and then feel guilty because they don't love this job as much as they think they should.

My truth is that I'm just getting by right now. I'm no longer clinging to my husband for dear life, as I was when I first left the hospital, but I'm not walking in my old shoes yet either. Some days I feel okay- like maybe I see the light at the end of this tunnel and I'm getting there, then other times, like last night, when my head feels so heavy that I can't imagine taking one more step, and the light has faded. I don't know why this has happened to me- a combination of post-partum depression laced with drug interactions and allergies is my best guess right now. And its hard. And sometimes I just want to quit.

Tonight, this is just what I needed to say.

If you've made your way into the blogosphere, and onto my site, searching for more info on Don Lehr, his services, or the Lehr family, you can find updates at: http://caringbridge.org/visit/donlehr, using the password: friendscare

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

For all of the beacons out there, currently lighting my path, as I take baby-steps back into the life I used to know, I am forever in your debt. Your love and support is a true testimony to the generosity of the human spirit, and my family and I are in awe, everyday, to witness this amazing outpouring of kindness.

Five weeks ago today I called my neighbor Donna for help, feeling so dizzy that I could no longer stand or continue my general motherhood duties. For days afterward, I continued to spiral downward, experiencing panic attacks I never could have imagined, along with uncontrollable vomiting, headaches and depression. A drug I had been prescribed, in order to give me a "boost", so to speak, had, after just two weeks in my body, caused debilitating side effects, then, once removed from it, the withdrawal became, for me, a nearly life-ending experience. Four trips to the ER and I was admitted to the detox unit of a local hospital, where I spent nine days. While my hours were passed with drunks and crack addicts, I met some of the most amazing beings- people who, though imperfect in their coping mechanisms, have survived traumas beyond human comprehension. There were times that I would sit amidst these souls and feel blown away by their courage- the woman who could barely speak, due to the ravages of a stroke, but wrote on a "wipe-off" board, so eloquently, about being abandoned by her mother as a child and the emptiness in her heart; the mentally challenged man who smiled all day long and told us all we'd be okay- he knew we were "going places"- who wept with appreciation when my husband brought in clothes to replace what were his own- tattered and a couple of sizes too small. The gay man who made me laugh continuously with his antics, the grandmother who kept assuring me that I was a good mother even when I could find no evidence to that fact, toward the end; and my roommate who, while suffering greatly herself, took care of me every single day, like a big sister, doing my hair and lauding my worth to anyone who was listening.

Then I came home- and the world was suddenly a scary place- paralyzing fear of what lay ahead- would the symptoms all return? Would I be able to parent my children again, whom I loved more than life itself but who could not sustain me when the worst of the withdrawal plagued my body. Would I again feel what it was like to no longer wish to live- to no longer want to be in my own skin? Three weeks later and I cannot say that the road has been smooth....but as the drug continues to be released from my body, and as I make small strides proving to myself that I am alive and coming back into being, I am feeling more hopeful and able to face my days.

My community of friends and neighbors- our heroes- have not allowed a day to go by where my family (including my wonderful parents who've been holding down the fort this whole time) did not have a warm meal to nourish them. My husband has remained with me, since my discharge, and while it has meant the lack of pay, has never questioned my need for his presence or my ability to get past this seemingly insurmountable hurdle. He has been my rock and his love for me is indescribable and awesome. He will return to work tomorrow, as I continue to heal in a part-time hospital program close-by, working on small goals and finding my true self again.

While I would never choose to relive the horror of the past month, I believe, now, in my heart, that the purpose behind this nightmare will be revealed in time as are all of our sufferings.

Our friend Don Lehr lost his battle with congestive heart failure yesterday. Please continue to pray for his wife and daughters as they meet the sorrow and the challenge of having to live without him.