Who Am I? Darkness of Depression Finds Sunny Skies

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Who am I? That has been something I have spent many years wondering. But in June of 1980, I was at one of the lowest moments of my life.

Everyone always says that your teen years are some of your best, for me, I sure hope not. Sure, there were some great times. But emotionally and mentally that was a very dark time for me.

I was graduating High School, and it should be having the-the time of my life. Most grads feel like they have the world by the tail and are preparing for a future. Not me, I was wondering what my purpose on this earth was, and I was lost.

Mental illness is an awful term, but that is what Bipolar disorder is in a nutshell. And I was suffering from the darkest depression I had ever experienced. I felt alone, unwanted, unloved, and completely lifeless.

Every morning I got up and went through the motions of living, but I wasn't. My sense of not belonging anywhere was adamant, and I was in such a dark place with no light. Then, out of the blue something happened.

My brother was not one who asked me to go with him places, and since he had gotten married, we hadn't spent any time together at all. So when he invited me to hang out with him after I got off of work, I should have wondered something. But in my haze of darkness I didn't.

We rode to a gas station, and Larry said he wanted to make a phone call. Again, I didn't think anything. He called Lynn asking him to come hang out with us. I thought okay, that was all right with me. I knew Lynn, but we didn't hang out or have the same set of friends, but this seemed fine to me.

It was just a matter of seconds that Lynn came pulling up in his little black cobra mustang. We all got into Larry's car and headed off to do the only thing to do in town. And that was to drive around and around until we got tired. Then we headed off on a dirt road finally making our way to a place in the woods where we could all sit around and drink beer.

Drinking beer when you are a teen can often be the only thing there is to do, I don't like beer now, and I didn't like it then. It was 1980 in the Ozarks, and that was all there was to do. So as Larry backed his car into the woods we settled in for a night of talking, looking at the stars, and pony Millers the beer of the Midwest teen in the 80s.

It was a breathtaking night. The stars were shining with such a sparkle that it felt like magic. Maybe there was some magic in the air, I don't know but as strange or impossible that it might sound I fell in love with Lynn.

There in the dark woods under the stars as we talked and walked down paths I fell in love. And remarkably he did too, it was a miracle or fate. I'm not sure,
My life would change and never be the same.I had someone that made me feel good that made me want to be a part of the world, and it was an incredible feeling.

When someone hears of that night we drove out into the woods, they always think it for us to do far more than talk. And even though circumstances caused rumors to spread, we didn't do anything but talk.

Those stories came from the fact that my work uniform which had been in Larry's car, ended up being dragged out of the car in the dark and left lying in the woods. So when a young boy found it, he took that uniform back to my work (it had my name on it) to leave it with my boss. So well I guess it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened next.

Once, the night was over Lynn followed us back to Larry's house and stayed till the early morning as we held hands and watched a movie. He was so sweet and wouldn't even kiss me when he left.

That shyness is still there under the surface 36 years later.

Our first official date happened the day after our starry night in the woods.

June 6, 1980, seems like it was just yesterday. Then, I look at the time on the calendar to realize it was 36 years ago. Lynn didn't stay away from Larry's house long that morning after he finally did go home. But it was just to shower and change clothes.

When he got back, the two of us joined Larry and his wife plus another couple. Hitting the highway, we headed to Mountain Home and the lake. It was a gloriously sunny day, and I felt alive. Alive.

We rode go-carts and got asked to leave because we were too rowdy in the owners words.

Then our little group was asked to leave Pizza Hut because we were laughing so loud. Looking back I laugh to myself because the reality was that we were a bunch of punk kids just having fun. We didn't hurt anyone; we just had fun..

That was the first day of the rest of my life. Lynn and I had a connection. One that is stronger today than ever, one that has protected us on this journey through life.

And it all started that long ago night in June of 1980.

Who Am I? Why Me What Have I Done To Deserve This? Sometimes God Has To Slap You In The Face

Who Am I? That simple question can mean wondering Why me? And Why have something happened to me? Sure it is usual for people to feel sorry for themselves but for some in this crazy world that are the only thing they think of. 

Just take a few moments to go shopping and listen to the people complain. It is a never-ending litany of why this and omg that. One person looks at another to mention their aches and pains. 'My back hurts.' They are then, met with a complete grocery list of the many things wrong with the other person, all in an attempt to prove who has the worst pain.

When did it become a competition to see who has it the worst? When did caring for others turn into 'but I feel worse' kind of world?

Think of the last time you went to the Doctor and remembered the people in the waiting room. For me, it was a group that all tried to outdo the others in their level of pain. I know that people have pain, I am not saying that. But why is there a contest to see how much more everyone suffers?

Isn't the pain in itself bad enough? Pain is awful. No matter where you hurt if you are a chronic pain sufferer, YOU HURT! Funniest the thing is that remember as a child the paper cuts you would get? That hurt so bad and still do. So as we remember those tiny cuts just take a moment and realize you don't have to see another's pain for it to be real.

Lynn has a head injury. We have dealt with years of people looking at him because he did things like mow the lawn or cut wood. A judge in our case answered it better than anyone ever had before. "I see nowhere in Mr. Johnson's file on his head injury that said it was his back. And unless he is mowing his lawn his head I see no problem." 

That put it in a nutshell. But the world still looks at everyone else as if each and everyone in the world is lying about pain. Why would anyone lie?


But as we go through this crazy existence that we call life, we are all in the spot to at one time or another feel depressed. That depression comes from being tired, and pain or suffering is tiresome.

We as humans have a tendency to go through times of feeling sorry for ourselves, don't worry everyone has done it sometime in their life. I had had moments when that feeling overwhelmed me, but reality came calling.

It was in 1988 when Lynn was hurt riding a four wheeler. He was wounded awful, compound fracture of his shoulder among other things. After his surgery, he began to suffer from pneumonia that had one lung full of fluid, and the other one was over 98% complete. He was in terrible condition.

He lay in his hospital bed unconscious and slim chances for recovery. I watched him terrified for his health. Here I stood six months pregnant with a 3-year-old hanging onto my leg. What would I do? I felt so alone, sitting there watching the love of my life suffer, while I had no one but my child to comfort me.

I watched him lay in that bed; he was so sick, and he was my world. Placing my hand on my belly, I cried because this baby needed a daddy too. I cried because my three years old needed her dad. And I cried in fear of losing my best friend, my partner, my soul mate, and my love. What would I do without him? 

Lynn's Doctor told me that if he were to survive the night, he had a 50% chance of surviving this. Which undoubtedly meant to me that he had a great chance of not surviving. I was horrified and more scared than I remember ever being. 

Nowhere did it feel to me that I was selfish, I only thought of myself and my little family. It just didn't seem like I was doing anything wrong. I just kept saying "Why me? What have I done to deserve this?"

Then, nearly out of the blue I heard a rattling commotion. It seemed to echo out of nowhere, so I went to the hospital room's door. Slowly I opened the door to look out. It was almost 4 in the morning, and my eyes met two gurneys pushed by a group of nurses and orderlies. Every one of the people had such a look of sadness on their faces which made me look at the gurneys again.

The first one held a tiny little thing; I later found out she was barely three years old, burnt. But not just burnt, this sweet baby was suffering burns over 97% of her body. The tears ran down my cheeks, as they do still today just remembering that sad night so long ago. I gasped as I saw the second gurney held an even tinier little body. But this one was covered head to toe. 

And I knew what that meant. A nurse stepped up to me, she saw my condition and knew I needed someone at that moment. As she placed a loving hand on my shoulders, she told me what had happened. The little girls were in a house fire, and the littlest one just didn't make it to the hospital.

My knees were weak, my heart sank, and I was ashamed. I was more ashamed than I had ever been in my life. How could I question God about my miserable life when those little babies had suffered so painfully? I was ashamed as I felt the wiggles of the unborn child and embarrassed as I looked at the beautiful little girl of mine asleep in a chair.

That was a moment when I know God reached down and slapped me. He hit with the knowledge that no matter how bad you think you have things, look around.That night I did look around, and I saw sights that would haunt me forever.

As I stared at my little girl asleep and I laid a loving hand on my stomach, I fell to my knees and begged forgiveness. I asked forgiveness for the horrid ways I had forgotten all the wonderful things in my life. I had forgotten just how fortunate I was.

In my begging I thanked God for my beautiful little girl, I thanked him for the healthy pregnancy. I thanked him for the time that Lynn and I had together. I thanked him for everything in my life, and I told him that if it was his will to take Lynn, then I only asked for the strength to handle it. 

I said that if this was all the time with the love of my life, then I was grateful for that happy time. And I cried. I cried for those little angels that had suffered; I cried for the shame I felt at questioning.

The night continued as I cried and prayed. I gave thanks for every second of the time I had with Lynn and the morning sun finally came up.

With the rays of sun shining into that white hospital room,  my morning greeted me with the beautiful blue eyes of my husband. He was lying there staring at me, and he had a beautiful smile on his face. And he was hungry. I laughed, I cried, and I hugged him.

The Doctor was surprised by the strange quick recovery he was witnessing. But I told him I wasn't surprised I knew why. And I was thankful.

So when I look in the mirror and ask Who Am I?, I know I am a grateful, very fortunate woman who has suffered, but I have made it through.

Do I step over someone who needs help? Not if I can do anything at all to help them.


Will you help someone? 

Who Am I? Redheaded BiPolar Irish Danish Native American Gemini Mutt

Who am I? I am a person who wonders, do you ever get used to the loss of your parents? Especially on your birthday.

No matter how many birthdays I have celebrated with the gaping holes left after the passing of Mama and Daddy. I never stop thinking about them and longing to hear “Happy Birthday baby.” But they aren’t here, and I will never hear them say it again. That brings such a pain to my heart I can’t even put words to it.

Even though they aren’t here I see them everywhere, I see Daddy in Cole as his significant height looks down at me, and he cocks one eyebrow up. I see Mama in Heather as she does whatever she sets her mind to. And I see them in the flowers I plant, the stars I watch, and the laughter of my family. My parents aren’t here, but they are everywhere because they made such an impact on me.

I never went a birthday that I didn’t have them to say they loved me and wished me Happy Birthday, no matter what was going on or the circumstances they did. I never failed to call her every day even when we weren’t getting along because I loved them dearly.

There are instances in life now where children and their parents do not talk; I am sadly too familiar with it. I wish things were different, but you can not force others to do what they do not want to do.
So with my birthday approaching, I look back at the years. I never really had a birthday party, Larry was the one who had parties. It wasn’t until after Cole was born. It was an average birthday, or at least it started that way.
I got so mad at my girls because they ran off and didn’t help with the chores or do anything. They left me on my birthday. I was furious. Then I got a phone call that said they needed their dad and me to come pick them up at the neighbor’s house. So we got in the car, and I was still fuming, bitching and complaining about those ungrateful little girls.
We drove into the neighbor’s yard, and I was still furious as I walked inside to let my kids have a piece of my mind. Then as I entered their dining room, I was met by an entire lot of our friends. Yeah, my girls had left me to do all their chores, but they were off busy planning a surprise party for me.

The tears still fall my cheeks as I remember the feeling of everyone screaming Happy Birthday and the look on my girls’ faces. It was priceless, and everyone liked to remind me how mad I got

 But I had never gotten a real birthday party, and I had no idea this was going to be one.
It was unbelievable, and they were all so wonderful. But boy did I get mad that morning. Now, it is funny. Then, not so much.

Birthdays to me are a time I reflect on the past, a time I remember the tears, the laughter, pain, and joy of being me. It is when I try to see the world through the eyes of my family, and I know they haven’t had it easy.
Dealing with me is something they need commendations. Being a Bi-Polar redheaded Irish Native American Danish Gemini is not easy for anyone. They need medals.