Got Therapy?

I told my therapist that one of my meds was making me crazy. Yeah she didn't laugh either. This is not a moment of bashing or dishing unsolicited advice. If you've read any of my blogs or scrolled down to see my profile, you know I suffer from depression and anxiety. I'm not ashamed.

For the past nine years I've been seeing a therapist. Not the same one, I've been through my fair share until I found a good fit. Here's my issue, I've noticed the downplay of mental health within the black and church community. First of all, mental illnesses affect all races and religions. The problem is more people are suffering and too ashamed to get proper help. I'm not standing on the mountaintop bubbling over for joy about this. I do recognize that being mental un-thy requires seeking help to HEAL your mind and body. Maybe a person doesn't need medication and just CBT. That's fine too. I just wish people wouldn't suggest I pray more or act like therapy is a secret. I do pray more and I'm also in therapy. It's like physical therapy for your mind. If your brain is sick how can you expect your body to function properly. Seriously it gets to me each and every time I hear someone make a joke or criticize someone else for their mental illness. It's not like they would poke fun at a physical disabled person.

When I was hospitalized during my pregnancy, I was on an antidepressant until I gave birth. Everything seemed normal or what I perceived as normal for a new, single mom. When my daughter was 10 months old I unknowingly took a test for postpartum depression. I was told I scored so high the nurse wasn't supposed to leave Z alone with me. In my defense, not once have I ever had thoughts of wanting to or attempted to hurt my child. I thought PPD was when a mother wants to harm her kid. I was however overwhelmed with not knowing what I was doing and having to do it all alone. Because I was so sleep deprived, I didn't know which end was up and thought it was normal to feel that way. I began seeing the therapist and she told me that normally she admits patients that score where I did. I told her that if she or anyone else separated me from my child, I would really have problems. (that's the edited version) Through therapy and being a proactive patient I've discovered that PPD is not at all what I thought and what I felt was not normal and healthy.

                                                                    
I'm a better mom now and in the future because I recognized and accepted the help needed to care for my Z. I could write a million blogs to tell you all how much I love this little girl. She has changed my life and made me realize that I need to be well to give her all that she deserves. I have a feeling there are a few other moms that feel the same way and won't get help for whatever reason. Trust me, you won't "just" get over it.

Creating Her Own Traditions

Before Zaynub was born her father and I discussed a few things that we wanted in her life. I wanted both parents to be active. That's another blog when I'm able to say something nice...more like say it nicely. Back to this, being from Iraq he wanted her to have an Arabic name, learn to speak Arabic and have the choice to choose a religion to practice. I agreed she should be exposed to both parents culture however besides the name I'm not able to teach her what I don't know.  

So her name is Zaynub Inaya Alea...check. I've already begun to purchase Arabic children's books and language learning DVDs...check. Teaching her Muslim customs is where I hit a brick wall. Not because I don't want her to know. I want her to be respectful of other traditions and cultures regardless if we practice the same. I sort of know maybe one or two things and not nearly enough to instruct her.

Z has spent just about everyday of her life with me not her father. When she did have an overnight away from me, it was maybe 12 hours and has only happened twice (I think). Her father hasn't spent more than 15 minutes with her and it was in my home. She's not ever seen him pray or done anything more than speak Arabic to her. A few days ago my manfriend (he's more than just a boy) came to visit and it just so happens he is a Muslim. When he began to pray, Z watched from her recliner very carefully. Once he got on his knees she got out of her chair, knelled down and touched her forehead to the floor. She's not ever seen this before yet she didn't mess with him, instead she mimicked his actions. The next day I was feeding her breakfast and when he entered the room it was as if she knew it was time to pray. She turned away from me and faced eastward just like him. once again when he got on his knees so did she except this time she started reciting something in baby babble. Truly this touched my heart. She may not have understood what she was doing yet she observed a sacred tradition. I want my daughter to have tolerance regardless of the ignorance she will face in life.

She said it!

Those who know me know I'm nowhere near being a chocoholic. Yet I'm just about ready to inhale this pan of  low-fat brownies. Now that I got that off my chest and it has absolutely nothing to do with this entry, let me tell you what happened.

Z finally said her first French word last week which is papa (means daddy). I am stoked! She's been watching her videos and listening to a CD since she was just a few months old. It was easier to make sure she heard it when she was younger. Now that's she's mobile she will stay in her room to watch bits and pieces. Some days she watches the entire lesson without leaving her room. Anyway, my ultimate goal is to get her in a French immersion school. Why French? I say why not. I would like for her to be bilingual. Whether she continues with speaking French after high school is up to her. There are so many benefits to being bilingual and that's another subject for another day. To get back to papa, she loves saying that word and I love hearing it even if she's calling me daddy. She even sings it to me several times a day.When she watches her lesson I hear her saying papa as instructed. Makes me smile each and every time.

So last night we went to hang out at the coffee shop. Teri was occupying Z by teaching her to say mama. After a minute or so she says it plain as day! I heard it but when she said it the second time I saw it. Almost as if she said it in slow motion and the letters literally came out of her mouth. Well that's how I felt when I saw and heard my daughter (I'm still in shock that I got pregnant and now I'm a mom ) call me mama for the first time ever. She's my sweet pea even though she's working on her terrible two. I look forward to hearing her next French and/or English words.

My First Wedding

On February 25, I was the official photographer for a wedding. This was huge and gave me another opportunity to meet with the best photog mentor ever. I took note of every instruction and though I'm overly critical of my work, I did an acceptable job. A couple shots really made me happy. The darkroom is where I'm having the most challenges. I know what I'd like to see, after the event has come and gone. I do however have notes of how to work quicker and smarter if there is a next time. Out of respect for their privacy I'll only posa select few on photo-related sites. Naturally I'll keep you all posted.

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