Thank you, Tony Stark

I love Jimmy Fallon. I appreciate his humor and the way he makes silly songs and his down-to-earth style with a funny flair when he interviews people on his show. But since he is on the late show at the later time, Josh and I never make it to that time before we are dead asleep. The only night we stay up later and watch his show is on Fridays (because there's no school the next day). We don't do it on purpose, it just always happens that way. And every Friday night, he does random "Thank You's" that are hilarious. So since today is Friday, I will honor that weekly tradition, and I want to thank Tony Stark from Iron Man 3 for having panic attacks.

Except, this is not a humorous thanks like the ones that Jimmy Fallon gives, but more of a very raw & emotional one. This is the long explanation behind the reason why Tony Stark receives my gratitude this week:

Nearly 10 years ago, in 2003, I delivered twins via C-section 9 weeks prematurely. They were life-flighted to a different hospital in another state the following day. My husband and my mother drove to that hospital, and I was left alone in my hospital room, recovering from the previous day's C-section. I never thought I would see my babies alive again. I hated being alone. I hated knowing that my oldest son was being taken care of by friends, and that I couldn't be with him. I hated thinking of my babies who were struggling for their life and I couldn't do anything for them. I hated not being with my husband or any family member. It was one of the lowest points of my life. 3 days later, I was discharged, and my dad drove up from Utah to pick me up in Idaho Falls, and then drove me to Salt Lake City to reunite with my husband and my babies. From there, my mom & dad returned to their home in Tremonton, my husband returned to Salmon to take care of Ammon, and I was once again left alone to care for my twins for the next 2 months until they were discharged from the hospital. This fragile beginning of their life began some serious depression inside of me. I had Post-Partum depression, as diagnosed by my OB/GYN at my follow-up 6 weeks after giving birth.

When my three-month maternity leave ended, I had to go back to work full-time at the Credit Union. Josh took care of the twins during that time in the winter. I worked for almost a month, but quit to stay home with my little ones who needed full-time care at home. And when I quit my job, my health insurance coverage ended. That meant I was no longer receiving services that I so desperately needed. So, I quit going to the doctor and I no longer took medicine because I couldn't afford it. And being home all day caring for two intensive-care babies began to take its toll on me. My emotional health went from bad to worse.

For months I felt like I was barely surviving. It was one of the twins' therapists who came to our home that realized I needed serious help. She had a social worker come and talked to me and offered me some counseling. After speaking with another social worker, I was also referred to a psychiatrist. Then I saw another psychiatrist. I was diagnosed as Bi-Polar from both Psychiatrists. When Post-Partum depression goes untreated for a long period of time, it can turn into Bi-Polar; that's what had happened to me. For months, I was put on a mirage of medications and doses, and every month I would have to return to the Psychiatrist and report, and have my medications adjusted. It was not a pleasant time. I also had to go to monthly group therapy, and weekly individual counseling sessions. This went on for over a year, until I finally felt like I had a grip on my life once again. I went back to work again at the credit union part-time, and I established a daily routine and healthy habits for myself.

During one of my monthly group sessions, there was a girl who had an anxiety disorder that often talked of things that made her have panic attacks. I had never had this happen to me before, so I didn't understand where she was coming from. I am an uninhibited person who does what I feel like & says what I want to say, so I couldn't believe she would have panic attacks from the simplest things. I truly felt sad for her, because she was unable to live a full life of joy as her fear of things were always holding her back.

When I became pregnant in 2006, I had to stop taking Lithium, the drug that worked the best to treat my Bi-Polar. And once again, I quit working. After delivering Kanyon in 2007, I breast-fed him, so I still wasn't allowed to take Lithium. I was afraid of having Post-Partum depression again with him. I was deathly afraid of it--but thankfully, it never happened. I felt like I was doing so well that I didn't even need to take medication anymore; I felt like I knew myself well enough that if I just took care of my needs, and made sure that I didn't over-extend myself or do anything extreme, that I could manage my Bi-Polar without any extra help from anyone else.

And I did just fine for a long time. Until the fall of 2008, right before the twins turned 5, when a woman who I thought was my friend, tried to destroy my life. She had become crazy and I didn't want my kids to be around her anymore. She had done some wrong and had hurt them in ways I don't want to mention here, so when she became aware of my desire to keep my kids away from her, she did everything she could to hurt me. She spread untrue rumors about me, she called CPS and the police and Health & Welfare, and my Bishop. She claimed I was an unfit mother, and suicidal and that I also threatened to kill my children with a gun, and that I was starving my family. Police came to my house to interview me, CPS came to my house to take pictures of food in my kitchen, my Bishop came to see if it was true. All of this threw my over the edge, and I no longer felt in control of managing my Bi-Polar anymore.

I became depressed and got in a real funk, and became a hermit. I shut people out of my life in order to maintain control over it. It wasn't healthy, and it took me over a year to pull myself out of it, with the help of a loving husband and a really good and devoted friend. But I was still in a vulnerable and fragile state.

In 2010, our new house was being put together and a foundation built for it, and Josh & I and the boys lived in our camping trailer for 3 weeks. It was then that I started having Claustrophobia and Anxiety Attacks. I believe the emotional roller coaster ride and the trauma I'd experienced in the previous years, combined with the stress of being cramped in a small space with my family for a very rainy season had both been factors in this newly developing mental issue. And because of the group therapy sessions that I'd had years ago with that girl, I understood what was happening to me, and I now finally understood what she felt. I had two panic attacks during that 3-week time. They felt debilitating, and I hated them. Unfortunately, they've never gone away. But thankfully, I do not have them often.

Two weeks ago, I experienced one in a public setting in front of my son. I was unprepared for it; it came on so suddenly. I was in the middle of a meeting, and some hurtful things were being said, and members in the meeting began arguing. It had already been a long and stressful day for me, and Josh was out of town so I'd been trying to handle all the parenting and home and work stuff alone, and I couldn't deal with all this extra emotional turmoil. I instantly felt the tightness in my chest, and my vision became blurred and my head was swimming and had the inability to focus. I felt like I couldn't breathe--that I wasn't getting any air. I tried to take deep breaths over and over, but it wasn't helping. Then I felt the coldness and prickling in my head, and I knew I was going to pass out, so I got out of the chair I was sitting in, and began walking towards the door. I told everyone in the meeting that I thought I was going to pass out and I had to leave. I went outside, sat down, and tried to calm myself down. There were people outside the building, including Ammon, who were watching all this take place. One of the people in the meeting with me was a nurse, and he came outside, and talked me through it. I finally got my breathing under control, and the tightness in my chest left, and my head began to see clearly again, and I broke down and started to cry embarrassed tears because so many people had just witnessed what had happened. On the way home from the meeting that night, Ammon asked me about what had happened. He was shocked to witness my earlier state of being, and I tried to explain to him what a panic attack was. (I mean, how do you tell your teenage son that you're mental? "Um...so I sort of can't handle life son, but let's hope you don't have my emotional genes, especially as you're at the beginning of the difficult & emotional teenage years"). Explaining one of my weaknesses and what happens during a panic attack to him was not one of my finer "mom" moments, especially since I had to explain it all him AFTER the fact that he witnessed his mom going into hysterics.

Just 3 days after that happened, I took Ammon on a date to see "Iron Man 3" in the theater. In the show, Tony Stark has several panic attacks when he feels stress stemming from events that happened during the "Avengers" movie. I felt relieved that even 'superheroes' experience humiliating humanly things like anxiety, and I leaned over to Ammon and said "See, even Iron Man has panic attacks!". He was already aware of what Panic Attacks were, because I'd explained them to him just days prior. I'd been feeling bad about myself for 3 days because of what had happened. I hated feeling out of control, and having so many people witness it, and having my son see me that way. But during the movie, I felt validated. Tony Stark is a genius and is filthy rich and he has the ability to save the world as Iron Man, but still suffers from controlling his own personal panic attacks. Watching him struggle, I began to forgive myself for what had happened. I didn't feel like such a bad mom or person anymore; I felt more normal.  So, thank you creators of "Iron Man 3", for making Tony Stark have a weakness that I can really relate to. Thank you Tony Stark, for helping me to feel better about something I struggle with and hate about myself!