LESSONS FROM THE SOL

Can you have an internal growth spurt?  Like a spiritual, mental, emotional growth spurt?  Like your mind and heart are growing a little too fast for a normal human being?  If so, then yes -- I had one of those in 2012.

Sol has been on this earth for almost 11 months exactly.  In her 11 short months of life, Sol has taught me more than I ever thought I could learn.  She is the reason that I grow every day, the reason that I strive to be a better person.  I am her role model, and her lot in life depends almost solely upon me.  She sees me, she watches me, and she will want to be just like me someday.  Those are mighty big boots to fill, yo.

In the past year, I've learned that I can use baby wipes to remove eye makeup and to clean the hairspray residue off the bathroom sink.  I've learned to hold my breath for about 92 seconds while I'm changing what has to be the most disturbingly gross diaper in the history of the world.  I've learned that babies can't have peanut butter, and I've learned what questions need to be asked before deciding on a daycare provider.  I've learned that the birth certificate people at the hospital are the most annoyingly in-your-face employees there.  I've learned the ins and outs of the legal system as it pertains to custody and child support.  I've learned the names of the people at the Friend of the Court, and I've learned that my neighbor's dad is a family law attorney.  I've learned that I need to look at the ingredients of butternut squash bisque before I feed it to my vegetarian baby because [oh yes] it contains ground chicken.  I've learned to put the carseat on the passenger side of the car so that I can reach back, if need be, and give her a bottle or pacifier.  I've learned to carry about 82 bags at once into the house.  I've learned that you can flip restaurant high chairs over and cradle your carseat/carrier in them.  I've learned that bar coasters make excellent chew toys for teething babies.  I've learned that the specially-packaged Gerber applesauce is just unsweetened applesauce [don't waste your money].  I've learned that mirrors can bring a whole new level of entertainment to a baby's eyes.  I've learned that anything "gender neutral" automatically leads strangers to believe your child is a boy -- regardless of how many pink accessories you have [black carseat = ohwhatasweetlittleboy!].  I've learned that you're supposed to pick a pediatrician before you go into labor.

Aside from all the practical everyday things, I've learned how to live a better life.

Sweet little Sol teaches me humility.  She teaches me to put the needs of others before myself.  She comes first -- in everything.  She eats, and then I eat.  She sleeps, and then I sleep.  She shows me the value in serving others, even when it costs me or inconveniences me.  She teaches me the worth of lifting others up, especially at their lowest points. 

My Sol teaches me to be flexible.  She teaches me the merit of putting the dishes off until tomorrow so that I can spend today playing on the floor with her.  She teaches me that it's perfectly acceptable to spend all day Saturday in your pajamas, as long as that pajama-clad Saturday is spent with someone you love.  She teaches me the importance of balancing things in life.  Sol teaches me the infectious nature of a good belly laugh.  Sol shows me that there is more to life than the daily grind; there is laughter and love and frivolity to be had.  She teaches me to find lighthearted joy in the little things, and wonder in the great things.  Watching Sol examine a leaf on the ground, or the frost on a window, or the grain in a hardwood floor -- this teaches me to open my eyes and realize the amazing beauty of the world around me.  

Sol encourages me to respect the decisions of others, even when I don't understand them.  She opens my eyes to see that everyone has his or her own story; and whether you can see it or not, every heart is breaking or has been broken, and at some point everyone needs a kind word to lift the spirit.  Sol teaches me to focus on the good and forget the bad, because each fleeting day goes by far too quickly to be spent in sorrow or anger.  She teaches me forgiveness, even when it's incredibly hard.  She teaches me patience -- she teaches me to breathe and count to 10 when I'm clenching my jaw and I just-don't-think-I-can-take-any-more.  

Sol teaches me to find peace and tranquility in the terrifying silence of dark, lonely nights.  She teaches me that loneliness is only temporary; those feelings are not permanent, nor will they ever be.  There is always a daughter, a friend, or a sister to pull you out of the depths of solitude.  Sol teaches me that there is no such thing as being unwanted.  There is always someone, somewhere, who loves and cares for you and wants you for who you are.  Sol teaches me hope and faith.  She teaches me that we all have a Grand Purpose, and she teaches me that prayers are always answered, even if it takes longer than we would like.  Sol teaches me that everything is okay in the end, and if it's not okay, it's not the end.  She teaches me that there is always sun over the horizon, regardless of whether I can see it or not.  Sol has taught me bravery and courage, and to stand up for things I believe in, even in the face of impossibility.  She has taught me that nothing is impossible.  

Above all else, Sol teaches me love.  She teaches me to fight through the doubt, the evil, the temptation to give up, and she teaches me to prove that love conquers all.  Love is ultimately the thing that brings each human to life, and love will always win.  Someone once told me that there is no such thing as unconditional love, but Sol has proven him wrong.  Sol is on this earth because I loved her, even before I knew her, and she will never know a life without love.  If my journey has been to find perfect love, I've arrived.  I've found it.  Sol is perfect love.  

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Happy New Year!  

Here's to a 2013 filled with peace, joy, and above all else, LOVE. 

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THE ONE WHERE MELANIE COMES BACK TO LIFE

Okay, okay, okay.  After far too many phone calls/emails/texts saying, "Heeelllooooo... where are the new blogs?"  I'm back.

I've been in a rut.  A residual rut from my last uber-depressing post, The One Where Melanie Screws It All Up.  I've been crazy-mega-busy at work, and amidst all the shopping for Christmas gifts and groceries, I've been trying to find a store that will sell me 2 or 3 extra hours in a day, but alas, I return empty-handed every time.

And every night is one of those "wake-up-every-night-at-2-3-and-4-am-because-you-think-of-something-else-you-have-to-do" nights.  And Sol gets sick - conveniently enough, when I'm literally the only person from my department in the office that week, so I literally can't call in or work from home.  And at the end of the most non-stellar day possible, I get fabulous emails with not-so-fabulous words from a not-so-fabulous person *cough*deadbeatdad*coughcough*.  And then I go home to a wailing child with a temperature of 102, who refuses to sleep longer than an hour at a time.  And I don't know what she wants or how to help her, and I end up crumpled up on the floor next to my crumpled bath towel from that morning, pulling my hair out and sobbing in frustration, which (surprise, surprise) doesn't make Sol stop crying.  And I just want to have a real conversation with another human being.  I want to sit on my couch with another adult and have random pointless conversation and talk about things that happened to me that day.  I want to tell someone about the funny license plate I saw, or the food that someone brought in and it smelled gooooood, which was surprising, because it was chicken.  I want to ask them if my hair looks better like {this} or like {this}.  And I want to do all this while donning sweatpants and a sweatshirt I acquired while working at a pumpkin farm.  But alas,  it's 11:47pm and I'm silent, alone in the kitchen, busy making a dessert for the office potluck tomorrow, and I'm still in my sweater, jeans, and boots that I've been wearing for 16 hours straight.  I've turned my phone off because I just don't want to talk to anyone.  And I don't even have time to eat, much less write anything for my #$%^ blog.  And I'm hungry because I haven't had a bite to eat all day, but at this point I'm so tired that I just need to cover the dessert and go to sleep. My world is killing me, and I'm exhausted.  Mentally, emotionally, physically exhausted.  I am worn down with life.

And then something happened this morning.  I woke up at 5am and stayed awake.  I watched a couple episodes of Full House while lying in bed.  And I took a shower and got everything ready for the day (including the dessert I slaved over).  And I went up the stairs to put on my watch, and I heard "ba! ba! ba!" from the tiny bedroom next to mine.  And I ducked into that little room and I saw the chubbiest-cheeked little face peeking at me over the railing of the crib.  And as I walked into the room, that little face broke into the biggest smile I've ever seen.  And she reached out to me with her ever-growing arms.  I whisked her out of her crib and held her close to me.  And she removed her pacifier and offered it to me, and I pretended to bite the end of it, and she ROARED with laughter because she thinks that's the funniest thing that's EVER happened.  And her hair was sticking up five ways from Sunday, and she pushed herself away from my chest and studied my face with her ever-curious fingers.  And it was like she was reaching straight into my chest and tugging on my heart.  And at that moment, I felt patience.  And peace.  And love.

She makes me feel complete, and on mornings like this, she makes me feel a little less alone.  She makes me hate the daily grind a little less, and love my life a little more.  And she makes me realize that I need to stop dropping to the floor in fits of frustration and despair, because she sees me.  She sees that I'm sad.  She sees that I'm lonely.  And while I know with every thread of my being that she is NOT the reason for my sadness, she doesn't know that.  I don't ever want her to think she's an inconvenience, or that my life would be better without her, or that she's the reason for the tears that so often find their way down my cheeks.  She doesn't make me sad; she brings me back to life when the world seems to be killing me.

So that was a bunch of rambling, but the point is, I'm back.  I'm writing.  And I will continue to write.  I very seriously considered never writing another blog ever again, but that's one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had. Stay tuned; I have much to say after 2 weeks of silence.

{random side note: maybe I should've named this post "The One Where Melanie Overuses the Word 'And' "}

On a brighter note, check out my office!  Holy festive, batman.
Imagine trying THIS at my old job.  In ya face.

THINGS DESIRED

I bought this a long time ago.
It now hangs in my living room :)

When I was growing up, we had this great-big-long-poem;

it hung in a frame on our living room wall.  

I never read any further than the title, which didn't interest me at all.  

Too bad.  I could have learned a lot.

The framed poem was Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata."

And now?  I read this poem to Sol every single night.  

Its beauty never ceases to amaze me.

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I spent this past weekend with my mom, daughter, sisters, and niece, shopping in Ann Arbor. We arrived home Sunday evening.  I dropped all my bags off in the middle of the living room floor (where most of them still are, yet to be unpacked), got Sol ready for bed, grabbed a couple books, prepared her bottle, and continued on with our nightly routine.

She lied there in my arms, legs kicking around in her little sleep-sack for no reason than just to kick, her chubby little hands holding her own bottle to her mouth, her ever-chameleonic eyes gazing up at me.  I finished Goosey Goosey Gander, finished The Snowy Day, and went on to wrap up our evening with Desiderata.

Profound as it is, with its brilliantly raw, honest words, Desiderata is my daily reminder to focus on the beautiful and important things in life.  And tonight, between the lines of Ehrmann's life lessons, I hug Sol close and say a silent prayer of thanks for the miracle falling asleep in my arms.  And as I set her empty bottle down and give her a pacifier to keep her content through the night, I think about how greatly she's changed my life.  As I carry her up the stairs, carefully and quietly to avoid waking her up, I consider how peaceful our lives really are.  As I lay Sol down in her crib, with her silky little bunny that keeps her company every night, I wonder what grand adventures I might have someday with this little person.  And as I linger for a couple minutes, I watch her sleep under the soft glow of the lamp nearby, and realize just how perfectly this has turned out.  In our quiet little house, on a cold, quiet little November night, my quiet little daughter is fast asleep and dreaming the sweetest, most wonderful little dreams.  And my heart aches - a good ache - because it's attached directly to hers by some invisible cord, and her sweet little sleeping face makes me melt.

Everything is right in the world.  Everything is turning out exactly as it was meant to be.  It makes no difference whether I realize it, whether I understand it, whether it makes sense.  Loneliness won't last forever.  Tears are just tears, and bad days are just days.  Bad days don't make a bad life.  My life with Sol is exactly as it should be, regardless of whether this is what I had planned.  Whether or not it is clear to me,  no doubt my universe is unfolding as it should.  Yours is too.  Embrace it.

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Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy. © Max Ehrmann 1927

ALWAYS SOMETHING THERE TO REMIND ME

My baby is officially one month old!  In her first month, she gained exactly 2 pounds, lost an umbilical cord (gross), lost some hair, and grew some sharp little fingernails (ouch).  As always, I love her more and more every day.  I didn't even realize it was possible to love one human this much.  My whole world revolves around her. I take her out in public, and my heart swells with pride as people "ooh" and "aah" over her.  Everything is going well - better than I expected, actually.

And even as things are going so well, I still read through the journal I kept while I was pregnant.  I find myself holding my daughter in my left hand, my right hand flipping through the pages of the book that tells the story of how she came to be, complete with all the sadness, anger, and hopelessness that accompanied the pregnancy - and it seems like the greatest paradox in the history of the world.  How could I have felt this sad, this lonely, as I was pregnant with Sol?  If only I'd known just how easy it would be to love this little person. 

At this point, it seems a little counterproductive to continue reading my pregnancy journal, doesn't it?  Why relive the loneliness and sadness if everything is going so well?  That's an excellent question, and I'm not even sure I have a good answer.  But I can tell you this: even if I weren't reading the journal, the sad feelngs would still be there - they would still bubble up every so often.  Even if I don't read my own descriptions of how hopeless I felt during my pregnancy, I remember those feelings pretty vividly.  I remember them every single time I see a happy family - a baby with both a mother AND a father - or even a pregnant woman and her beaming husband/boyfriend.  I feel the ache deep in my chest, and my throat tenses up as I smile at the glowing family in front of me, though inside I'm wishing it was me in her shoes.  I know the feeling well.

I felt it when I was shopping in the maternity store in the mall - where young men would be standing outside the fitting rooms, waiting anxiously to see their wives come out and model the clothes that flattered their new curves and showed off the bellies that carried babies-to-be.  I always shopped alone.  There was never a man waiting outside the fitting room for me.

I felt it whenever I sat alone in the waiting room of the OB-GYN office, watching the other patients sitting there with their husbands and talking excitedly about their babies-to-be.  And while my sister Liz came with me to as many appointments as she could,  I always wondered what it would be like to have my baby's father there with me, to be excited about what was happening to me.  I felt it the first time I heard my baby's heartbeat, and every time after that.  Tears welled up in my eyes every time I listened to the little life in my belly.  Each time I imagined what it would be like to have my baby's father there, holding my hand and listening with me.

I felt it when I registered for gifts for my baby shower.  I had my sister Amanda there with me to register at one store, and I registered at another store by myself.  I watched as other couples excitedly scanned their favorite strollers, but it only reminded me that my baby's father wasn't there to offer his input or help me decide which pack 'n' play would work best.

I feel it when I see happy couples proudly announcing the due date of their baby.  They aren't worried about shame or disappointment, or how their friends will react.  Their news is happy news, and they don't need to write their families a letter to explain the situation.

I feel it when I see a brand-new set of parents out with their baby.  I see the father holding his daughter and proudly showing her off to everyone in his vicinity.  I hear him talking to her in his cutesy-cute "baby" voice, and I hear him telling everyone at the table all about the wonder of the birth of his baby girl.  I see him cradling her in his arms and making no attempt to hide the amazing love that he holds for his daughter.  I see him take great pains to strap her safely into the car seat (one he helped pick out, no doubt).  I see him carry the car seat and the diaper bag out of respect for his wife, the new mom.  As I pack my own daughter into our secondhand car seat, juggle it with my purse and diaper bag, and head home without anyone to help us, I wonder what it would be like to have her father around to share the "new baby" excitement with.

I feel it whenever I see Sol's dad's name pop up on my phone.  Every single time, a very small part of me hopes that he's calling because he wants to be in her life.  It would make things easier... or would it?  Miss Solaya and I certainly find ourselves in an unusual situation.  And with every single call, I wonder what it would be like to just have a father in her life, no questions asked.

I feel it as I look through gifts Sol has received from our loved ones.  I feel it as I look at all the "I Love Mommy" and "Mommy's Little Sweetheart" outfits.  Although no one has mentioned it to me, I know that people had to look closely at the words written on each outfit before making their purchase.  In the stores, there are too many sets of adorable onesies with "Daddy Loves Me" written on them - and it makes me feel badly that our family/friends have to stop and think about the words on Sol's outfits before buying them.  I feel awful that I'll never be able to just pick up a set of green striped onesies and buy it for my daughter - I have to check whether it mentions anything about the daddy that's not involved. 

I feel it as I try to fill out things like Sol's baby book.  Everything is about "Mommy and Daddy."  Look through the baby book section at your local big-box baby store.  They don't sell baby books specifically geared toward single moms.  I wonder what it would feel like to have someone to help me fill this book out.

I feel it when people ask me about Sol's father.  Whether we're out in public or meeting someone who sort of knows us but doesn't know our story, we get the same sorts of questions.  Well-meaning strangers will ask how excited Sol's dad is (I answer with "Oh, he almost can't believe it, he's so excited").  Acquaintances or younger children will ask where my husband/boyfriend is (I answer with "Oh, he's in Kalamazoo").  Maybe it's lying, maybe it's just avoiding the lengthy and uncomfortable conversation that would soon follow.  It's not their fault that they ask such perfectly acceptable questions - why would anyone assume that someone with a brand-new baby is single?

And yet, the reality is just that: I'm a young mom, and I'm single.  I don't have any idea what I'm doing.  And every time I look around, I'm reminded of all that.  Whether I read through my journal or take in my surroundings, there will always be something to remind me of the situation I'm in.  I will never have a chance to forget the choices I made, nor the choices that Sol's dad made.  I'll always be reminded that I wasn't enough to keep him around.  No matter where I am in life, I will always have this dream of what it would have been like to go through my first pregnancy the "right" way - with someone there to love me and my changing body, to tell me I was beautiful, to tell me he loved me and couldn't wait to meet our child.  I'll always feel cheated out of my first pregnancy.  While the end result is so wonderful and perfect, the road to get there was anything but ideal.  It's definitely not easy to be a single mom, and it's not easy to have so many reminders that her dad doesn't want to be around.  I know that we won't be alone forever, though, and while I'm not rushing to find someone, I can't help but dream of what it will feel like to have a complete family.  And I'll find someone good.  She deserves it.

Compliments of Barking Bird Art

PATIENCE: NOT MY STRONG SUIT

First things first: TODAY IS MiniMon's DUE DATE!!!

Well, it happened.  I had my turn at false labor.  I was having contractions all Thursday night, couldn't sleep, and ended up calling my doctor at 3am.  He told me to take some Tylenol, take a warm bath, and check back in the morning.  So after drawing myself a nice warm bath and trying to doze in it (using a rolled-up towel as a pillow), I realized I would probably drown myself before anything productive happened.  So I got out, went back to bed, caught maybe an hour of sleep, and headed to work.  Contractions continued all day until I saw my doctor at 3pm.  After an uneventful non-stress test (monitoring both Baby B's heartbeat and my contractions), they sent me home.  So here I sit, Monday morning, after an entirely unsuccessful weekend of long walks and spicy food, waiting for Baby to signal that he/she is ready to join the outside world. 

This weekend I realized for the very first time that I'm waiting IMPATIENTLY.  Had you asked me six months, three months, or even just one month ago, I would've told you that I wanted Baby B to arrive late because I just wasn't ready in any respect.  It goes without saying that my pregnancy wasn't all rainbows and sunshine.  However, I can't deny that with time, prayer, love and support from my family, I felt less hopeless and more excited about the baby that was coming into the world.  Looking through the journal I kept during my pregnancy, I see too many early entries about feeling alone, sad, and hopeless.  However, things start to look a little brighter after I broke the news to my family.  The following entry, for example, was written after I had told both of my sisters about Baby B:

August 7, 2011:  Dear Baby, I wonder what you look like.  I wonder what color your hair will be, and what color your eyes will be.  My Baby :) I'm sorry I've been so sad.

It was pointless that I ever felt so sad about something so amazing.  Expecting a baby is never a curse; it is always a blessing for SOMEONE.   Today I couldn't be happier that I was able to get past the sadness and find the joy in my pregnancy. 

And here I am, on my due date, and I can't wait to meet my little monster!  I can't wait to kiss Baby's nose and have Baby's perfect little hand wrapped around my finger.  I can't wait to watch my little one sleep, or to hear him or her cry for the very first time.  Above all, I can't wait for the moment when the doctor places Baby B. on my chest for the first time.  I can't even imagine what that will feel like.  It's surreal to have lived every day of the past nine months, both waking and sleeping, with this little human living right there inside my belly.  And although I've probably felt every possible emotion about my baby throughout this pregnancy, I feel nothing but elation and excitement now.  I love this baby more than I ever thought was humanly possible.  You can come on out whenever, Baby - there are plenty of people who can't wait to meet you!

POSITIVE...? QUITE THE CONTRARY.

Many women have, at some point in their lives, feared the little blue plus sign.  I was one of them.  They say the plus sign is a "positive" test result, but if you're not planning on a pregnancy, your reaction to that plus sign is anything but positive. 


Not long ago, I was talking to someone who was recently surprised by a positive pregnancy test.  She's 30.  She and her husband are educated.  They already have kids.  They have a beautiful home and great jobs.  To sum it up, their life seems pretty sweet.  However, they weren't planning on having another baby.  She was telling me the story of what happened when they found out she was pregnant.  She and her husband were both shocked.  They were upset, they weren't talking, and they could hardly sleep.  She woke up the next morning to find him gone.  Naturally, the first thought that popped into her head was that he had left her.  She felt alone and scared.  As I listened to her story, I was choking back tears and my heart was breaking for her.  I know what it's like to be in her position - to feel abandoned and terrified of what's to come.  However, I'm very happy to say that her husband did NOT leave her; he had gone in early to work because he couldn't sleep.  They're very happy now and the whole family is excited for baby-to-be :)
That story is proof: it doesn't matter if you're 16 or 26, married or unmarried, if you have kids or don't have kids. That plus sign can be hell. 


I saw my plus sign on May 25.  And I can assure you that what followed was NOT positive.  I kept a journal for a few months starting immediately after I found out I was pregnant.  Until recently, I refused to look in it because I was afraid of what I would find in there.  And for good reason, because the entries were so drenched in hopelessness that they were nearly impossible for me to read through.  I won't post the entire journal, but here are a few entries:

May 25, 2011: Dear Baby, today I took a pregnancy test and it was positive.  Your daddy wasn't happy.  I was very scared.  We both just sat there and wondered what we're going to do.  I don't know if I'm ready to be a mom.  I don't know what to do.
May 26, 2011: Dear Baby, I don't know what to do.  Your daddy didn't show up to work.  He said we were over.  He's looking for a way out. 
May 27, 2011: Dear Baby, your daddy left today.  He's never coming back.  I'm not stupid.
June 9, 2011: Dear Baby, today I'm 24.  And I feel so much older.  Your daddy and I had plans after work today.  But he left me at my apartment and drove off.  On my birthday.  I called and begged him to come back - I wish I were stronger.  I felt very alone on my birthday.  I'm 24, alone, and very sad.  Happy birthday to me :(

Even as I type those entries now, seven months later, the tears still come.  I was sure that I was alone in this.  I was sure that my family would hate me.  It's funny how an obstacle can seem so big that we can't see beyond it.  I wish I had been able to see past the fear and uncertainty of my pregnancy back then - even if only just far enough to reach out for help.  If there's one thing that I've heard over and over again since I shared my news, it's this: don't be afraid to ask for help. 

We're human.  We are not wired to handle everything alone.  We are social creatures.  We're designed to support and be supported.  And after all my ups and downs these past few months, I solemnly swear that I will never try to handle anything alone again.  Gelato and sobfests in my car didn't fix the problem.  It wasn't until July 18 when I decided to ask for help. 


July 18, 2011:  Dear Baby, I called your aunt Amanda and told her everything.  She was very supportive and she was very mad at your daddy for telling me that his choice was the only choice.  I cried to her on the phone for hours.  I cried and cried untili it felt like I couldn't cry anymore.  She cried, but only because I was alone and had been alone in this for so long.


My sister Amanda was my saving grace. She loved me and helped me see that this was not the end of the world.  After I told her what I was going through, life was better.  Though it took a while for that plus sign to truly feel POSITIVE, I was on the right track.  I just needed a little help.  Sometimes that's all we need.

I write this to show what an amazing gift family can be.  When support is needed, turn to your family.  Your family will love you unconditionally, no matter what.  Your family will bring you back to reality and help you back on your feet.  There's nothing negative about that.