Navigating Decades of Depression & Anxiety

February 15, 2016March 7, 2016 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ Leave a comment

Major depression is one of the most common mental disorders in the United States. (National Institute of Mental Health) More than 1 out of 20 Americans 12 years of age and older reported current depression in 2005–2006.(Pratt LA, Brody DJ. Depression in the United States household population, 2005–2006. NCHS Data Brief. 2008(7):1–8.)

Here One Brave Follower Shares Her Struggles With Anxiety & Depression. If you have a story you’d like to share, contact me. Linda

Childhood Illness Shakes Family of 8
I am the youngest of six children raised by a RN mother and draftsman father. At age eight, I suddenly became ill with three debilitating autoimmune disorders: Juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, scleroderma and Raynaud’s phenomenon. These diagnoses changed my life forever and disrupted our family dynamic. Today I know these factors are the root cause of my lifelong struggle with depression.
My mother was my lifeline and I developed an unnatural physical and emotional dependency on her to the detriment of my siblings. For example, my sister who is five years older than me had challenges with anxiety and demonstrated symptoms of hypochondria to get attention from our Mom. For many years, Mom and I left home every three months for three days at a time to get me non-traditional treatment at an osteopathic clinic. Thankfully I was able to keep up at school with the help of some amazing teachers.
I missed out on many events, both at school and at home. At family holiday gatherings, I was typically on the couch or in my room. I was spoiled and everyone knew it. We weren’t wealthy so soda pop and cookies were rare, but since I was underweight, my parents bought me any food I requested, hoping I’d eat it and gain weight. One of my brothers was observant enough to understand this and often asked me to request certain food for him. I did.
Because there were no identified treatments for my condition, I was left to battle the challenging symptoms and the accompanying barrage of viral and bacterial illnesses with the aid of my constant companion, my mother. Antibiotics worked for the bacterial infections, but I more frequently had viruses that couldn’t be treated. There were no pharmaceuticals at that time for my autoimmune conditions. There probably are today.
Junior High Challenges
I spent junior high with low self-esteem and a very small circle of friends because I’d become extremely self-conscious of my condition. While my health had improved by this time, my self-image was framed by the previous years of illness, residual health challenges and a telltale facial butterfly rash. I was isolated by the illnesses and only had friends when I wasn’t sick. I’d developed an unhealthy belief I was defective and unworthy. All of this was exacerbated by depression and anxiety challenges that I’ve since learned are associated with autoimmune disease. I was never able to physically participate in gym class activities from second grade forward and without participation I didn’t develop any skill and had physical limitations in my hands and elbows. I missed a lot of school, but kept up enough to get good grades. I was never diagnosed with depression because at this time depression and anxiety conditions were rarely discussed or treated, especially in children. It wasn’t until I was in college that a general practitioner treated me for anxiety. I was given medication I took when I felt I needed it. Even at this age, I continued to lean on my mother for support.
College Obsession for Perfection
In college I became obsessed with the one thing I thought I could control in my life – my grade point average (GPA). Achieving that meant I was good at something, but the resulting stress I placed on myself to get a 4.0 required my taking anti-anxiety medications. Unless I got 100% on all tests and papers, I felt I failed. I beat myself up for less than perfection. This causes depression. I studied a lot. I did date some, but studying and grades were my priorities and certainly there was no play before all studying was complete. I lived at home so I didn’t have the same social experiences that those who lived with other students had. I did start college in the dorms, but I had to work food service to pay my room and board. I had a full class schedule so I went to class and studied and tried to have fun, but I couldn’t handle it physically and got mononucleosis (mono) so I had to withdraw from school to recuperate. That was a real low in my life. I finally felt like I was gaining my independence and my health, once again, prevented me from doing so. I lived at home for the rest of my college career. I was very capable socially with adults, as I spent a lot of time with my parents and their friends. I didn’t do as well with people of my own age. I was unpracticed and self-conscious.
I was anxious and depressed all through college but not enough not to participate in life. I had goals and hope for my future. Good grades gave me the self-esteem to muster through and to enter graduate school.
Never Good Enough
Following graduate school, my measurement of self-worth shifted to achievement in my work and resulting job titles. However, there was never sufficient evidence to convince me I was good enough. The unfulfilled expectations of me resulted in heightened levels of anxiety and depression. At this point in my life I was married (and beginning to feel trapped in the marriage) and working at my first job. My depression led to hyperventilation. I didn’t know that was what was happening. It wasn’t like you see in movies. I couldn’t detect a breathing issue. I just felt like I was going to pass out. After being passed around to several doctors, I was sent to a neurologist, who diagnosed my depression. This is when I was put on an antidepressant that I took for many years. The number, shape and colors of the antidepressant medications changed over the many years to follow as hyperventilation and other symptoms of anxiety and depression escalated. Remember, talk therapy was not mainstream then either. In fact, I didn’t experience this until after my divorce.
Debilitating Hopelessness
A marriage, subsequent divorce, and later the death of my mother, and two reductions-in-force (job losses) resulted in a deepened state of hopelessness and heightened anxiety. My low point was after the second job loss. The first lay off was as bad as I thought it could get, but the second one exceeded the first. I didn’t have the energy or hope to go on. The depression and anxiety became debilitating. I couldn’t do anything but sleep, shake and cry. I ended up in a psychologist’s office and admitted I didn’t want to live. I wasn’t suicidal per se, but I simply had no hope for a future. She referred me to an inpatient depression program. It really didn’t help me. What I needed was a job. That’s the only way I could regain a semblance of a life. Somehow I could quit bouncing my leg and get myself together for interviews, and I did get a job that I really didn’t want because I didn’t want to move out-of-state. At this point I was on some pretty powerful medications, but I still wasn’t doing well emotionally. I was living in another city, feeling all alone and out-of-place. I was alive and going through the motions, but was not myself at all. New and more pills were prescribed with abysmal results, but I battled on…..barely.
Suicidal Co-Worker Saved Me
Miraculously, I was able to rejoin a previous employer and return to my home, but the anxiety and depression remained prominent. Because I was back in my home and in a familiar city, I was better emotionally but still struggling mightily to get through a work day. My biggest challenge was short-term memory issues caused by depression. With what I attribute to serendipity, I subsequently hired a vibrant young woman who later disclosed her past suicide attempt while taking antidepressants. Her mother, an RN, was desperate to find an effective alternative treatment. What she discovered was an amino acid protocol, the results of which literally save her daughter’s life.
Because of the honesty of my co-worker and the success I’d seen her have on the amino acid protocol, about 18 months ago; I made a successful transition from traditional antidepressants to amino acid treatment. While my results haven’t been as dramatic as hers, which I attribute to my auto-immune disease and the many accumulated years of depression and anxiety, I am functioning much better than I was while taking anti-depressant and anti-anxiety drugs, and without their many undesirable side-effects. Today I take no prescription anti-anxiety or depression drugs.
Gratitude and Hope
I feel grateful for finding a treatment that more effectively manages my depression and anxiety without the many unpleasant side effects of traditional drug therapy. I am exercising, traveling, following a healthy, gluten-free diet, and functioning better at work than I have since my second job loss.
Being open and honest about my struggles with depression is not easy. I chose to share my journey, hoping others who personally suffer, or are close to someone who suffers, from depression and anxiety will find hope.
I wish you well.

Resources for those needing more information.

American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry

National Institute of Mental Health

National Institute on Aging

©Copyright. February 2016. Linda Leier Thomason

Letter to 1-Year-Old Son From Dad

February 3, 2016October 8, 2020 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ Leave a comment

The Delights of Being a 1st Time Dad

It’s amazing how you can love someone you’ve never met.

I realized on January 26, 2015 how much more fun it is when you do meet. That day my life changed forever when our son David was born. I’ve been smitten by him ever since and here is what I’d like to say to him as his Dad-a first time dad.

David,

You looked straight into my eyes when I first held you and I can’t imagine what was going through your mind. I was in pure bliss.

I was able to get a taste of your personality immediately when you were in the nursery lined up next to five baby girls who were perfectly swaddled and there you were, with the blankets kicked out and sprawled all over just like Daddy. I couldn’t have been more proud.

The delights of being your dad have all come in phases related to your development and interests.

The first was when we realized you were a very good baby. You were a great sleeper and rarely cried outside of being hungry. You did spit-up a lot, but over time even that became a source of laughter as you managed to stain nearly every piece of clothing I own. Shower time was always a favorite as you were mesmerized by the water, yet loved to get wet and watch the water go down the drain.

The rolling stage was next. You first rolled over at 4 weeks so we were always nervous but excited to watch you enjoy your new, yet limited freedom. You also started to smile a lot, which makes any new parent feel as if they’re doing something right, even though it was probably just you peeing.

You then transitioned to the almost-crawling stage. It looked more like an awkward army crawl, but it was the first time we needed to house proof. Only outlets and pictures on various furniture pieces could be reached, but it made you smile.

Then you crawled and our adventure had officially begun. Watching you follow us around like a little puppy was a hoot. We transitioned to a house that appeared like a prison with many gates. Our possessions crept ever higher. For the first time, I experienced the stage fright associated with someone staring at you while trying to do what had always been private.

You first learned to walk while pushing your bright red Ferrari F430. It allowed so much freedom between pieces of furniture that you spent most of your time on your feet. Not surprisingly we spent most of our time running after you saying ‘no’. I think the Ferrari developed your love for the color red as you became fans of Elmo and anything red with wheels. We just sat and smiled as you were so proud to push your car back and forth across the living room from one of us to the other. It was during one of the these sessions that I removed the car and you took your first actual step.

You knew that something big just happened! You held your first step and looked at your mom with the excitement that you figured it out. The next morning you took 3 steps and have never looked back. What we thought had previously looked like a prison, now looks much more restricted. Our possessions crept ever higher and the Christmas tree looked stunning from the halfway point up where your mom started the ornaments. Christmas was the first holiday where you were moving well enough to chase your cousins around and you loved every minute of it, as did we.

Recently you turned one. It was a party for you and a reflection for your mom and I on how happy you’ve made us. In writing this its become apparent that the delights in being a first time dad are the same delights that every first time parent has. The rolling, crawling, walking, and talking are nothing out of the ordinary except for the first time its my child and that makes all the difference in the world. Thank you for being in my world. You’ve changed it, in every good way.

I love you David!

Dad

Nathan is a native North Dakotan, raised in Dickinson. He graduated from North Dakota State University (Fargo) and is a financial advisor for Edward Jones in Bismarck where he and wife Amanda raise their son. They are joyful followers of Christ who enjoy going for family walks when it’s nice and playing indoors in forts with David when it’s not. Nathan and Amanda look forward to traveling with David as he gets older so he has an appreciation for all that this world has to offer, especially the great structures, museums, and natural wonders. His first trip, however, will be in March 2016 to meet a mouse named Mickey.

Do you write letters to your child(ren)? What a great tradition to start for each of their birthdays. My husband Ken writes one every month on the same day to our college aged son who looks forward to going to his mailbox to collect it. What a great way for your child(ren) to hear your voice through the written word and recapture who you were long after you’re gone. It’s not too late-start a writing tradition-today.

Share this post with others to encourage fathers to write letters to their sons-of any age.

Linda Leier Thomason is a former CEO who writes freelance business and travel stories, along with feature articles. Her work experiences include a Fortune 500 corporation, federal government, entrepreneurship and small business. Find out more about Linda by clicking the “Meet Linda” tab above. Interested in working together? Complete this form below.

©Copyright. February 2016. Linda Leier Thomason

An Adoptee’s Voice 54 Years Later

January 20, 2016February 13, 2018 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ 4 Comments

(Shared by Susan-a follower from Florida)
Half-a-million adult adoptees were seeking or had found their birth families according to a late 1980’s survey. (Groza and Rosenberg, 1998). In a study of American adolescents, the Search Institute found that 72 percent of adopted adolescents wanted to know why they were adopted, 65 percent wanted to meet their birth parents, and 94 percent wanted to know which birth parent they looked like. (American Adoption Congress, 1996)
Susan was no different. Here is her story 54 years later.

THE BEGINNING
I was adopted at about nine months old by loving, gentle parents who fought to conceive and maintain pregnancies. I had an older brother, Bill, who was adopted at six weeks old and a younger sister, Lisa, who was about 18 months old when she joined the family. None of us were previously related.

I always knew I was adopted. My first recollection of this awareness was when I was in 2nd grade and my teacher asked, “Who in this class was adopted?” and my hand flew up. When I looked around, there may have been one other person, but I was never bothered by the fact. I asked my mom how she told me and she claimed she didn’t really remember. She thought she’d used books from the library that talked about being chosen and not coming from her tummy. I just always knew I was adopted. I had nothing to compare it with and didn’t know what it felt like to not be adopted. All I knew was that I was very much loved.
I was born in Ohio in 1961 and it was considered a “closed” adoption: neither party was privy to information about the other. The Ohio laws have since changed and anyone born before 1963 is free to search.
CHILDHOOD CURIOSITY
As a child, I was curious about my birth mother and fantasized that she was a wealthy, blue blood type person-someone like Crystal Carrington from Dynasty, a popular TV show at the time. I was very open with my mother. In turn, she was always a bit defensive, confusing me with her instructions not to go alone if I ever searched for my birth mother. Now I know she was trying to protect me. She believed that as a young, college educated adult, I might feel obligated to help my birth mother out if I saw she was struggling. Even though I assured my mother this was not a consideration, I felt she was withholding something from me. I’m not sure if I learned then, or if I knew sooner, but I was adopted from the county welfare department, as was my younger sister Lisa. Our origin was the source of my mother’s uneasiness. At this time, I was just curious and never felt a pressing need to search because my curiosity mostly was about my nationality. I didn’t search.
PREGNANCY CHANGED EVERYTHING
It wasn’t until I was married, living in California and pregnant with our first child that I seriously began looking into my birth background. I had an unsatisfied need to know what genes I was passing on to my children. In the past, when it came time to fill out paperwork at clinics, I’d answered questions about family history with, “I don’t know. Adopted!” Now it was about to affect another generation. If I could find anything out, I desperately wanted to.
During the pregnancy, my mother came to California from Ohio to help me wallpaper the nursery and I kept peppering her with questions about this. She finally had enough and exclaimed, “Damn it!” which I had NEVER heard her say. My persistent questions really upset her. So much so that she shared with me all she knew, which was only my birth mother’s last name. Immediately I began the search, starting at the hospital where I was born and then calling the Cleveland welfare department.
SHOCKING NEWS
My goal was to know my heredity and disease history, but that’s not what I found out. I opened a can of worms that couldn’t have been further from my ideal birth mother image. The information was so upsetting that my husband Dave convinced me to put it all aside until after the birth of our son and deal with it later. It was great advice since my hormones were all whacked out from the pregnancy as it was.

It wasn’t too long afterwards though when I dealt with the information I’d received. I discovered I was the youngest of my birth mother’s five children, all adopted. The two oldest girls were in and out of foster care before their permanent homes. One brother died at birth and another I know nothing about. I learned I was taken to the welfare department straight from the hospital and that none of us had the same father. Our birth mother had psychological issues and was in and out of hospitals. She ended up dying in her 40’s in the hospital before my search began. To be truthful, her death was a relief because I didn’t have to make the decision to meet her. It was made for me.
SISTERS SEARCHING
I’d gathered all of this information from a wonderful social worker at the welfare department. As it turns out, my oldest biological sister, Judy, started her birth background search within a month of me inquiring about my background. I truly can’t make this stuff up! Judy and I started exchanging birthday and Christmas cards, all through the social worker who understood we’d have some initial trust issues. Soon Judy and I were exchanging addresses.

About a year after Judy and I connected, I got another call from the social worker. She told me my birth sister, Jane, had made an inquiry to her background. So again, we made our introductions and became birthday and Christmas card friends. Judy and Jane are both lovely, decent women with terrific families. We have met a couple of times and I am glad they are in my life. We remain in contact and social media has allowed us to stay up to date with one another.
TO THOSE ADOPTING

I was always open with my parents about my findings because I knew they were just as curious as I was. I certainly have a better understanding of my mother’s apprehensiveness. I know she never felt she would be replaced. My brother never searched for his birth parents because he always thought it would hurt our parents. I never felt that way. Lisa, my youngest sister and only remaining family member, never searched for her birth parents either. She chose not to have children. Maybe that’s why she never chose to look into her background.
My advice for couples considering adoption is to find out the things I never did: Heredity and diseases, even if only on the birth mother’s side because these are important when you have children. I’m still curious about that part of my history.
Finally, I would say to people adopting-love those children. Discipline them and be open with them. Let them know they’re wanted.

Family is who you are with. My wonderful childhood is something I would never change. Nature vs. nurture is an argument that will continue….both are needed.
Susan and Dave and their very spoiled rescue yellow Labrador, Jackson, recently moved to Florida in search of a more relaxed lifestyle on the beach after 20 years in Atlanta, GA where their three children were raised. Susan grew up in a modest house in a small suburb of Cleveland, OH, attended Ohio (Athens) University and worked in radio in Ohio before marrying Dave whose career took them to Los Angeles, CA, Charleston, SC and Minneapolis, MN. She volunteered in her children’s schools, substitute taught and worked as a paraprofessional in an elementary school Physical Education department. As an empty nester, she’s also worked part-time retail jobs.

CONSIDERING ADOPTION?

Each year nearly 120,000 children are placed for adoption. If you’re considering adoption, Here are some resources to explore. Share this story with those you know considering adoption.

Adoption

Adopt Us Kids

Adoption Agencies by State

Adoptive Families

Leave a question or comment for Susan below.

I Spent New Year’s Eve With a New Man

January 4, 2016January 4, 2016 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ 4 Comments

A new man ended 2015 and started 2016 with me. It was the first time he invited me to spend the night. He made me dinner and showed me his city. He unloaded my vehicle upon arrival, had linens laid out and noticeably had cleaned his home in anticipation of my visit. During my stay, we shopped, cooked, talked, laughed, recalled past New Year’s Eve events and chewed a lot of sunflower seeds while watching endless college bowl games. Occasionally, he’d flip the channel and let me see New Year’s Eve programming from Times Square. We toasted the beginning of a new year and he taught me to play Phase 10-a card game.

The man I spent New Years with is our 21-year-old son, Alex. It was my first overnight at his home and it was memorable not only for the ringing in of a new year but also for his hospitality. Admittedly, I was a bit tepid about encroaching on his space for the first time-sleeping on his bed, using his shower, eating his food and following his house rules. The truth is thinking about the role reversal on the drive there far exceeded the reality of it. Once the door opened, it was quite natural.

For the most part, I checked my “mother role” at the door and entered his home as a guest. Okay, I did offer some non-solicited advice on cooking and, when he wasn’t looking, I took a couple extra swipes with the dishcloth at the oven top. And I might even have reset the coffee table and opened the blinds. But, don’t tell him! It’s just not that easy switching from mom to guest so abruptly. When he asked me to get him a beverage from the refrigerator, I knew the role shift wasn’t that easy for him either. We all fall into natural roles like mom and son. But I did want him to know during this visit I was also a guest and he was the host. It’s one of those things you learn over time-how to host guests. With more practice, I’m sure I’ll do better as a guest and he will continue to excel as a host.

I left my man’s home feeling proud and blessed that our son has matured into a person who can fund his own home, keep it clean, furnish it and even host his parents for a holiday with graciousness and charm.

It was a wonderful New Year’s Eve and a very special start to 2016.

I’m already waiting for the next invitation. This time I’ll leave the dishcloth, oven top, coffee table and blinds alone. Promise? Maybe! I’m still his Mom.

Do you recall the first time you spent the night at your child’s home? Can you relate? How? Comment. Share.

©Copyright. January 2016. Linda Leier Thomason

After Divorce, Love Liberates

November 6, 2015February 21, 2018 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ Leave a comment

I still love my ex-husband.

(Contributed by Maureen-an Oregon follower.)

I love him like a recovering alcoholic loves her drink of choice – with fond memories, from a great distance, and with absolutely no desire to rekindle. Sobriety has gifted her with wisdom to understand the chaos of such reunion. The problem isn’t with the alcohol or the alcoholic. The problem is when they are in a relationship together.

Co-Parent

My ex and I both love our children with fierce dedication. He’s an excellent co-parent: He returns my calls and gladly lets me borrow needed items. The lines of communication about our kids and their needs are very open. We cooperate while also maintaining healthy, new boundaries set after the divorce because, when children are involved, divorce does not end a relationship, it only changes it.

In fact, we filed for divorce together, submitting a stipulated judgment reached in agreement through mediation. The legal part was fast. It was reaching this point that was painfully slow and exhausting. After several rounds of pastoral and secular counseling, both as a couple, and individually, and only God knows how many tears and best efforts, I could state without reservation there was nothing left to try, no more effort to make.

Filed on Anniversary

By coincidence, we filed for divorce on July 8 – our anniversary – so, poetically, 14 years to the day we ended our marriage on the same day it began. Officially, the judgment was entered into the record six days later, but who’s nitpicking? That would mess up the way I’ve chosen to remember things.

And that’s the scary, and the beautiful part. It is my choice to remember things how I want to. Some may say I’m lying to myself, but we all lie to ourselves, all the time. I’ve chosen to stop hoping things could’ve been different. Rather, I’m grateful for how things are, which is the best definition of forgiveness I’ve found. I could list his failings and the compounded disappointments leading me to finally decide there was no hope for a shared future. But, then to be fair, I’d have to provide a list of mine. I don’t want to.

Imperfect

I was not perfect. I did things I am not proud of. Words were shouted. Names were called. Doors were slammed. Tires were squealed. Spit was spat. Yes, we’d known for years we were making each other miserable. I also knew if we split, he’d stay alone for approximately five seconds. I understood a separation would be permanent. I solved the problem of being forced to make this decision by lying in bed and crying about it for two years.

Support System

When I finally reached out to my friends, my sister, and my parents, their reactions told me I had no more time for such indulgences. They assured me they’d be there every step of the way and that if I returned to him without a full reckoning by both of us; they’d be forced to accept they could never take me at my word again. I knew once I started to share the truth of how far my marriage had gone off the rails, they’d expect me, and hope for me, to choose to do right by myself and my children. I fondly called this the Nuclear Option – drastic and irreversible, once begun.

On December 3, 2013, with the help of my sister and my parents – who could have so easily said, “I told you so,” but instead swooped in like a professionally trained search and rescue team, I pushed the red button by moving out and everything, I mean everything, has been better.

Circle of Stones

The process itself was brutal. Maybe I should say I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but that isn’t true. Life is full of pain and disappointment and the sooner one acknowledges it, the easier it gets. Everyone is carrying their own sack of rocks, why whine about mine? Instead, I put together a team I fondly called my Circle of Stones. The inner circle was my sister and my parents, and my dear friend, Mindy, who was the first to be told and the first to withhold judgment. I honestly don’t know where I’d be if she hadn’t been the perfect friend to me in the exact time and way I needed her to be. Her nonjudgmental response gave me courage to reach out to my family – a family that, through my silence and shame of feeling like a failure, I’d metaphorically been giving the finger for over a decade.

Added to the Circle were my brothers and their wives, whose humbling, unexpected and greatly appreciated generosity arrived exactly when I needed it. Donna, Ellen, Debbi, Marta – a.k.a “My West Coast Mom,” Jim, Andrea, Ree, Char and so many others joined the Circle as did my doctor. She wisely put me on a short round of antidepressants when I asked her for something to help me sleep. And then, at just the right time, I learned of a reunion of female first cousins, some whom I’d never met or seen in over 30 years. Being with these strong, beautiful, caring women buoyed me, reminded of the stuff I was made of, helped me remember where I came from, and gave me the support and perspective I needed. It’s taken time, counseling, grief and being embraced by this Circle but yes, I still do love my ex-husband.

Love is an Active Choice

Mr. Rogers in his book The World According to Mr. Rogers said, “Love isn’t perfect caring. It is an active noun, like struggle.” It is an active choice to behave in such a way that is beneficial and nurturing to all involved. Dr. Maya Angelou is credited with saying, “love liberates”. So it is my choice to love myself, my children and my now ex-husband enough to liberate, or set us all free.

I also choose to stop hoping things could’ve been different and instead be grateful for how things are. Rather than dragging my bag of rocks, I stand solidly inside my Circle of Stones and know I am forgiven, I am free.

We all are – or at least we can be. We only have to choose to liberate.

Want to share a message with or ask Maureen a question? Do so below.

If you’d like to be a guest contributor, please contact me.

©Copyright. November 2015. Linda Leier Thomason

School Shooting In Rural America

October 30, 2015October 30, 2015 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ Leave a comment

First Year Teacher Shares Incident Experience

Sarah is a first year teacher and daughter of a veteran police officer. She knew of crime but never realized she’d be so close to a shooting until a student opened fire inside her school during her 1st month on the job. This is Sarah’s account of September 30, 2015 in rural Harrisburg, South Dakota, population 5000.

I’ll never forget this day. I was supervising a study hall of diligent students when just after 10:00 AM; the intercom came on with static and white noise. Quickly following was the administrative assistant’s voice saying, “We are in lockdown. We are in lockdown.” She did not yell, but panic was heard in her voice. In fact, still today, over and over in my head, I hear how she said those words. Instantly I knew this was not a drill. Instead, a real incident was happening somewhere in the school.

Immediately I instructed my classroom of 25 students to get as close to the back wall as possible so they were not in direct site from the door. As they moved, I ran to shut and lock the door, turn the lights off and close all the shades. The next few minutes of uncertainty felt like an eternity. Students rightfully asked if this was a drill and what was going on. I had no answers. Finally our principal, who I later learned had just been shot, came on the intercom announcing the person causing the lockdown was apprehended and authorities were enroute.

All breathed a sigh of relief knowing with near certainty we were no longer in danger. Then I realized my loved ones, who’d in all likelihood heard about
the shooting, were probably trying to find out if I was okay, only I didn’t
have my cellular phone. For once, I was thankful for social media because I took to Facebook to contact my friends and family, letting them know that my students and I were safe.

I was on the job a month when this incident happened. I never imagined having to follow active shooter procedures ever while teaching, let alone in the first month of my career. The staff had practiced a lockdown drill just two weeks prior to the shooting so I knew what to do in the classroom that day and automatically did as we were taught.

September 30th I became a more confident teacher. Confidence in the classroom and relationship building with students typically come with time and success. Ironically, this experience jump-started both. I know, if faced with a similar incident, I will be confident in my actions. That morning those 25 students and I bonded and I feel closer to them now then I think most teachers in their first month of their first year could wish for.

I will admit that on the day of the shooting I really didn’t have any feelings about it. But the next day, when seeing the students and our principal, who thankfully was only slightly injured, I was overwhelmed by the enormity of what happened and the realization of how it could have been much worse for all.

October 1, 2015 when I got home from school, I learned of the Oregon college campus shooting and what happened the day before at our school really hit me hard. I thought to myself how easily that could have been my school, and my students. Yes, all of us at Harrisburg High School went through a traumatic event but it could have been a tragic event as well.

I was thankful then that I am close to my family. Some of my co-worker’s families live in other states and could only communicate through telephone or text messaging. I was lucky enough to have my family in the same city, offering me support and talking me through this incident.

I believe one of the biggest factors in this situation was that the student doing the shooting was new to the school. No one really had a chance to know him. And it is hard to say why he chose to use this act of violence with the limited background information we had on him.

What I can say is that parents should always be mindful of what their teenagers are doing and who they are hanging out with. As a sister to a brother seven years younger, I know keeping tabs on teenagers can be challenging because they don’t always want to talk to their parents. As a teacher I try to develop relationships right away with my students so they feel comfortable opening up to me about their struggles in and outside of school.

I don’t know if I am really the right person to dispense warning signs indicating a child might be considering an act of violence. I will say parents should try their best to be involved in their children’s lives and to pay attention to how they normally act. If abrupt change is noticed, it would be best for all to sit down right away and talk about it. As a teacher, and also someone who not too long ago was a teenager, I do know students absolutely want their parents to be involved and to talk to them, even though they may appear resistant and non-receptive.

Today I feel safe at Harrisburg High School. How I enter the school and go about my day has not changed. Honestly, being in lockdown was the last thing I ever expected when I decided to be a teacher. Yet, September 30, 2015 changed so many things for me. Teaching is as much about my learning as it is educating my students. That day I both taught and learned and I’m more confident for the experience.
What message would you like to convey to Sarah and all teachers? Leave a comment below.

©Copyright. October 2015. Linda Leier Thomason

If you’d like to contribute as a guest, contact me at llthomason60@gmail.com.

1st Time Grandparents

October 13, 2015February 20, 2018 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ 5 Comments

JOYS AND FEARS

(Guest Contributor-Kelly Weaver)

Updated March 29, 2016

Lennon Elizabeth arrived one week early on Sunday, March 20^th at 7:05 pm weighing 5 lbs. 15 oz and measuring 18 ¾ inches long. She is a beautiful healthy baby and everything is going well. Kelly said, “I was not prepared for the love in my heart for that little girl and I cried when I held her (as did my mother!).” Adding, “You hear that being a grandparent is the best, but you don’t truly know until you are there. I look forward to the many moments of joy she will bring to our lives.”

Share your messages of Congratulations with Kelly and her family in the Comments Section below.

———————————————————————————————-October, 2015

This summer our daughter and son-in-law made an announcement that took my breath away and, somewhat unexpectedly, brought me to tears. They’re pregnant! This will be our first grandchild. While I am excited, I feel a bit unprepared for my new role but I guess I will figure it out along the way. Just like I did as a parent! Like any change in life, embarking on this new journey brings with it both fears and joys.
Fears –
1. My husband’s biggest fear is that the baby won’t be healthy or our daughter will have complications. He had the same fear when I was pregnant with her. Given that she’s been feeling well, as I did during my pregnancy, and extreme complications are rare, this is one fear that doesn’t keep me up at night. I’m more worried about how their puppy will react.
2. I think my biggest fear is not overstepping my bounds and being “that” mother/mother-in-law. Our daughter and her husband only live a couple of miles from us, and we have a great relationship. I have always been the parent that couldn’t wait to share all my knowledge and wisdom with my daughter as she was growing up. I will need to police those tendencies and perhaps bite my lip at times when new methods don’t match up with the ‘way it used to be’.
3. Selfishly, I am embarrassed to admit one of my fears is a possible loss of freedom. My husband and I are just becoming used to being ‘empty nesters’ and taking opportunities to do things we haven’t done for a while or doing things as just the two of us. Will being a Grandma take away from other leisure time activities? I shouldn’t be worried based on what I hear from other grandparents. We’ll likely find that we can choose ‘Grandma and Grandpa time’ over any other activity.
I am blessed that there are many fears I do not have. I don’t worry about family discord, being separated by long distances, or having my grandchild raised in a different faith tradition.
Joys –
1. My daughter and her husband celebrated their first wedding anniversary this fall. While she hasn’t lived in our house for a few years, it’s been a transition of separation since the wedding. It’s been wonderful to witness her in her new fully adult role as a wife. The joy of seeing her as a mother will be even greater. That joy will be compounded by the fact that she will be accompanied in that journey by a loving husband ready to take on his role as a new father. What more could a parent ask for?
2. My husband is so looking forward to the things he can do with his grandchild. His first favorite thing will be snuggling up on the couch with a sleeping child reminiscent of the times when our daughter was young. Of course, other activities on his list will be camping, fishing, hunting, snowmobiling, and trips to Storybook Land.
3. I too look forward to activities with our grandchild because it allows us to be a positive influence in their life. To share our faith, to be awed by their outlook on the world, to encourage them to be themselves, and to be their biggest fan. I think one of the joys of grandparenthood comes from being able to ‘be present’ in their world in a way that parents are not always able to be. We have a calm demeanor that comes from life experience and the lack of responsibility for the daily duties of raising a child.
I remember when my daughter was born and my father held her for the first time. He was so in awe of this little being and how everything about her was so tiny. He was particularly enthralled with her delicate fingers. Granted, it had been a long time since his own children were born but it was almost as if he had never seen a baby before. He often said, “If I had known how much fun grandchildren were, I would have had them first! “
With that in mind, I can only hope to approach the birth of my own grandchild with a sense of wonder and joy. (And it will be fun to see my dad’s reaction to his first great-grandchild!)

Kelly Weaver lives in Aberdeen, South Dakota and spends her days helping people in northeast South Dakota realize their small business dreams by providing guidance and business planning services. For the past 9 years, she has coordinated the BIG Idea Competition, a business idea competition for high school students. In her free time she enjoys singing in her church choir and camping and snowmobiling with family and friends throughout the year. She and her husband, Jim, have one daughter and son-in-law and are anxiously and excitingly waiting the arrival of their first grandchild.

Share this message with others. Comment below.

Replaced Mom?

October 12, 2015 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ 1 Comment

Google-the Nasty Step-Mother

Soon no one will speak any longer. Texts, emails, Facebook, Twitter and other social media have nearly replaced telephone calls. A hand-addressed, hand-written letter in the mailbox has me rushing back to the house excited to read words committed on paper forever.

Long gone are the days when I made, or more recently received, phone calls about ingredient substitutions for a family recipe, remedies for an illness or techniques for stain removal. Nope! No one calls for that advice or wisdom any longer. Instead, we log onto one of our many electronic devices and ask Google. Google is the end-all and the answer key for virtually everything we need to know. It is the nasty step-mother who’s replaced mom’s wisdom. It’s left mom feeling worthless and not needed. Heck, even mom Googles when she needs information now.

What’s missing from this instantaneous Google search for answers and information is the appreciation of experience and wisdom of the elder being called who knows the right answers through the trials and errors of living life. Every time I hung up the phone (Phones haven’t always been carried.) after calling to ask a household or vehicle operating question, I was grateful for the answer and deep down I knew it gave my parents a boost to be able to answer and to help. It proved their worth, even as their child aged.

Recently our son called to ask how to dispose of kitchen grease. I answered. And then I got suspicious. What was the real reason he was calling? Was everything okay? Was he lonely? Did something happen? Oh Dear! Maybe he just wanted to know how to get rid of the grease that was smelling up his apartment.

I wish he’d call more often with questions I can answer without looking them up on Google. If only he knew how that one little ring on my cellular phone boosted my sense of worth as a mother. Save the texts and instant messages for someone else. Today, let the phone ring or the mailbox contain a hand-written letter.

Need to know how to write one? Call me!

A Week in Solitary

October 9, 2015 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ Leave a comment

I vowed to spend the week in solitary when my husband left for business. I spent a week by myself not a week in silence. Baby steps here. A week alone with complete silence seems insurmountable.

Solitary has never been my thing. How can it be? I was raised in a family of 11 with hundreds of cousins. I lived in dorms. I worked in offices and on Capitol Hill. There was always noise and movement around me. I thrived in these settings, or at least I thought I did as a social creature.

As the week in solitary progressed and my “to-do” list rapidly dwindled, I grew somewhat contemplative. I thought about those devoted to monastic silence by choice and those placed in solitary confinement in prisons. Monks seeking calm, serenity and peace of mind conflicted with prisoners in confined spaces filled with angst, rage and contempt. Such contrasting routes and approaches to solitude.

Little noise and distraction unlocked solitary moments warehoused in my memory. I relived my wedding day before driving downtown Charleston, SC to get dressed for the ceremony. The calmness I felt as I lazily completed piddly tasks alone around my house came back. I recalled sitting on the porch marveling how I was living my last minutes as a single woman while feeling the excitement of our forthcoming ceremony and reception. Insisting I be alone that morning was the right decision. It kept me focused and in the moment. Solitude prepared me for commitment.

Later I recalled overnight feedings of our infant son. Holding him in the crook of my left arm propped up with a pillow while rocking him in the night’s darkness: the intimacy of those silent irreplaceable moments. In the stillness I listened to him, though he could not yet speak. Solitude naturally bonded mother and son.

Not all unlocked memories of solitude were blissful. Sometimes being all alone in thought and presence is scary. I shivered recalling how solitude paralyzed me as I sat next to a friend dying of AIDS. Though together, I felt completely alone. The room was eerily quiet, except for the surrounding machines and medical staff moving in and out of the room. None made eye contact. An unspoken understanding existed that these were our last moments together. I grasped his limp hand and didn’t dare cry, trumping his pain with mine. Crying would ruin the silence needed for his ending. Solitude readied me for grieving.

As I worked through one memory after another, testifying that I’d previously not only endured but sometimes thrived in solitary, it became clear that a very distinct difference exists between loneliness and solitude. One is painful, the other meditative. While I advocate for meditation and solitude, I understand that many are lonely and suffer deeply from disconnection and loneliness. Loneliness feels like punishment while voluntarily placing oneself in solitary is a priceless gift.

And when the garage door opened signaling my husband’s return, my week in solitary ended. My unlocked memories remained as did faith in myself that I could endure and appreciate future weeks in solitary.

If you are feeling overwhelmed or confused by the busyness of daily life, force yourself to a period of solitary. Be quiet. Recall the past. Relive the joy. Understand the pain. Appreciate the moment. A week in solitary is worth the initial discomfort. It offers perspective. It adds depth to your life.

“We need to find God. And he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature-trees, flowers, grass grows in silence. See the starts, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence. We need silence to be able to touch souls.- Mother Teresa-

Retreat Centers:

Cloisters on the Platte in Nebraska http://www.cloistersontheplatte.com

Benedictine Peace Center in Yankton, SD http://yanktonbenedictines.org

Creighton University Retreat Center in Griswold, Iowa http://creighton.edu/ministry/retreatcenter

St. Benedict Center in Schuyler Nebraska http://www.stbenedictcenter.com

Website of Retreat Centers http://www.retreatfinder.com

Have you been on a silent retreat or forced yourself into a week of solitary? Comment. How did the experience work for you?

Halloween Party Planning–Include Boys

September 24, 2015 ~ Linda Leier Thomason ~ Leave a comment

Boys get the short stick of holiday party planning. Some say they don’t care. I beg to differ. As the mother of an only child who happens to be male I want him to experience the excitement and anticipation of all holidays too. I understand he’s not a girl, I am. I want him to bank memories of holidays and to recall the fun, festivity and even the calamity of the planning and the party itself. In addition, I want him participating in the planning. There is so much learning for kids involved in planning and hosting events-everything from envelope addressing to budgeting to handling conflict between party guests. Sit down with your child, or children, and plan a party TOGETHER. You will be doing them a favor and teaching them more than you realize.

Pre-Party To-Do List

Pick a date, time and location.
Decide who to invite-all boys, co-ed, adults?
Purchase or create invitations. Child completes Who, What, When, Where and RSVP details.
Child addresses envelopes, stamps and mails invitations 2-3 weeks before date.
Plan a menu. Traditional kid food or holiday food?
Create a grocery shopping list by menu item. What buy, what make?
Decide where to serve food-outside vs. inside-where at each location?
Make list of tableware and decorations needed.
Giving guests party favors? What? Make or buy?
Shop together. Compare prices. Decide together.
Plan activities for party. Indoor and outdoor. Inclement weather plan?
Make a time-line of actions to be done the week of the party and the day of the party. [Teaching time management skills and big picture thinking.]
Follow up with non-responding RSVP guests. (Major pet peeve!)

Week of Party Reminders

Check the forecast
Balls inflated? If any sports balls being used in activities, are they properly inflated?
Gather serving platters, trays, utensils, etc. for menu items. Clean? Ready to use?
Making party favors? Do so. Place in basket and set aside.
Can any ingredients be cut or prepared in advance? Check recipes.

Party Day

Set up serving tables, if not using kitchen or dining room table.
Prepare menu items, paying close attention to preparation times and safe storage.
Place serving trays, bowls, etc. on table.
Double check items needed for activities- all present and available?
Is bathroom ready for guest use?
Be ready for guests to arrive at least 1-hour before start time.
ENJOY the party!
Hand guests party favors as they leave and thank them for coming to your party.
Clean up.
Children, thank parents for helping you plan such a great party!

Sample Menu From Halloween Party for Pre-Teen Boys

Bloodied Fingers-twisted and baked breadsticks with food coloring added. Almonds (fingernail) pressed into bread after 5 minutes of baking.
Blood Shot Eyes on Guts-can of black beans spread on plate (guts). Deviled eggs with pimento or red pepper (blood shot) and sliced olives (eyeball).
Spider Web 7-layer dip-see photo for ingredients or use your favorite recipe. Put sour cream in bag with small hole so child can draw web on top layer.
Cheetos and black tortilla chips
Sliced red and green pepper
Punch over dried ice
Jean’s Ghost Cookies-see under “recipes.”

Sample Activities

It’s a sunny fall day and the invitees are pre-teen boys. Flag football supervised by an adult. Game of “Horse” on the basketball court-winner is first in line to eat. Age appropriate Halloween or other scary movie. At dusk-Flashlight Tag.

Party Favors

Battery operated flashlight for Flashlight Tag and a pre-packaged Rice Krispie treat covered with a ghost face decorated (Sharpie) paper towel tied on with black or orange yarn.

Linda Leier Thomason

Hauling Rocks From Prairie to Shore TM

Parenting

Navigating Decades of Depression & Anxiety

Letter to 1-Year-Old Son From Dad

An Adoptee’s Voice 54 Years Later

I Spent New Year’s Eve With a New Man