Not All Pain is Physical

It's been quite some time since I last posted on my blog. Life gets busy, kids get older, jobs come and go and priorities change. This past year, especially the last few months have been difficult for everyone due to the effects of COVID-19.  My daughter, Kate, like many young teens, has been struggling. At her request, she wanted to share her story. I can't think of a better day than today to share with everyone how proud I am to be her MOM. 
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In honor of May being Mental Health Awareness Month, I have decided to share my story, not for publicity or attention, but because mental health is a real issue that affects 1 in 5 people, including me. 

My name is Kate Smith and this is my story... 

It all started when I was a young girl. I shouldn't have had a care in the world. But instead, I remember having a lot of anxiety. I noticed it in the way I would worry constantly, have difficulty falling asleep, and the occurrence of weekly, sometimes daily stomach aches. I have loving parents, an older brother who looks out for me, lots of friends, good grades, and a home with family dinners as often as our schedules would allow. I had no reason to feel anxious about anything, but I did. 

For many years my anxiety existed but it was also manageable. For the most part, I was able to enjoy most days. However, as I got older my struggle with anxiety increased along with signs of depression. In early 2019, I realized that I needed to ask for help. I didn't enjoy the things I used to. Most nights I cried myself to sleep and I had no sense of self-worth, which is when the dark and negative thoughts started to creep in. I began to see a therapist but had a very difficult time opening up, and if you aren't willing to open up, you won’t get much out of it. Talking to my parents and telling them how I really felt was nearly impossible. It’s hard to tell the people that brought me into this world and love me unconditionally, how much I was really struggling.

I also have a very strong belief in God. My faith has got me through a lot. I have been blessed to go on mission trips that have changed my life in so many ways I cannot begin to explain. I feel so connected and so free on these trips. The friendships I have created, the connections I have made, and the presence of God have made me who I am.  During my darkest days, I was starting to doubt my purpose and questioned why the God I believe in and trust would just watch me struggle for so long.  I began to question my faith and felt a loss of purpose. This is the moment I realized I needed more help than therapy.

With guidance from my parents and therapist, I began an intense therapy program that required daily attendance for approximately 3-6 weeks, depending on my progress.  I was terrified of going but knew I needed it. I wanted to be happy and enjoy things again. Talking about my feelings and opening up about it is hard enough, let alone talking about it for 8 hours every day.  Slowly I began to share, open up, and take skills I had learned to help myself. I slowly started to feel better. I was hopeful but cautious and reluctant to believe it was possible. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop because that is how it had been for so long. I began to realize that I have learned skills to work better, smarter, harder, stronger, and differently on the bad days. As a result, I am truly getting better. Going through those darkest moments I wasn't sure I could get through it, but I did. Not all pain is physical. Not all wounds are visible. You never know what people are going through, especially during these difficult times. Check-in with your loved ones. Send a simple text saying how much they matter and they are not alone.  For anyone reading this, suffering from anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation, you truly can get through it. This is my story. It is who I am but it does not define me, it is a part of me!

Crossing the Line

In life there can be many first time experiences that become a special part of our memories. Destined to never be forgotten, they can seem as real today as the day they happened.

"There's nothing like running the Twin Cities Marathon." You've heard it before. I've heard it before. Friends did their best telling me what to expect: Cheering fans lining the streets, handmade signs, and tears from both spectators and exhausted runners. Of course, you can't forget that proverbial wall—somewhere between miles 18 and 22—where many question just how much strength they have left as they approach Summit Avenue, putting one foot in front of the other, reflecting back to those months of training leading up to that final run. 


All that stuff is definitely there on race day. But no amount of words can ever do the experience justice. To really describe the emotions a marathon runner feels striding through all 26.2 miles is hard. Sure, everyone's experience is different. But for me, October 5th, 2014 is a day that I will never forget.

For a first-timer, the camaraderie was something to behold and perhaps added to the emotional impact. From the first mile on, there were people willing each other on. There was a sense of unity among fellow runners that made the experience all the more special. Sharing the streets with so many other people all who have a story to tell, is so surreal.  The abundance of love from family who came to be there with me on my big day, the encouragement from friends, and support from complete strangers as I made my way through the “Most Beautiful Urban Marathon in America”, I was overwhelmed in the most wonderful sense of the word. 

Even though there were thousands running beside me, it was an extremely personal endeavor. I wasn’t racing anyone. It was a battle between myself and this idiotic notion that formed months ago when I thought it would be a good idea. For me, this was my Mt. Everest.

Despite the physical agony, the final mile was the most enjoyable. It's hard to explain what it felt like to finish my first marathon. Turning the corner and seeing the finish line, having an enthusiastic race volunteer slip my medal over my head. 



The end of the run wasn't about the last 26.2 miles; it was the culmination of months of training, 5 a.m. wake-up calls on Saturday mornings, training runs with my husband and crazy co-workers, missing toenails, blisters, sore knees, and sore hips. But the feeling of reaching my goal was worth it all. I couldn't remember a time when I felt prouder of myself, and while it was nice that my friends and family were all proud of me too, it was how I felt about myself that made it all worth it. Words alone are never enough to capture the energy, excitement and inevitable agony of running a marathon.

Runners are a special sort of kind, and I am proud to be one. I now officially belong to an elite group of 1/10th of 1% of Americans who can and do finish a marathon!

“With each step I learn more about myself

Realizing there is more to me than I knew

I have strength, I have endurance, I have patience

With each step I can feel my confidence
and I am determined to run until I’m done.”

Raise Your Glass

I don't blog as often as most "true" bloggers.  Let's face it, no one wants to read about my crazy life in the suburbs, carpool conversations between 13 year old boys, or why my clothes don't fit the same as they did just a few years ago! Wait...I might be on to something but that is for another day.  

My point is, when I do blog it's about something in my life that has meaning to me or something in my life of importance. That being said, this particular post was much more difficult and took much longer to write than I had anticipated.  I think it’s far easier for me to share random experiences and stories about myself, but it's much harder to capture a story or experience about someone else.

Let's start a few weeks back, when my family was invited as guests of Thrivent Financial to spend the weekend in Chicago celebrating my sister, Melanie Meyer’s, induction into Thrivent Financial's Hall of Fame. The Hall of Fame is one of Thrivent's highest honors. In order to be inducted you must have given at least 20 years of service, a commitment to helping others and a passion for providing outstanding customer service. Among Thrivent Financial’s nearly 2,300 financial representatives—only 183 are in the Hall of Fame.  Of those 183 Hall of Fame members, Melanie is 1of only 5 women within the group.

For those of you who have not met Melanie, let me try to paint you a picture of her.

Melanie has always been very dedicated in every endeavor she pursues. From her first post college job as a struggling interior designer in the affluent city of San Diego to the odds and end jobs (fitness instructor, paper route, etc) that helped to pay her bills prior to her career at Lutheran Brotherhood/Thrivent Financial.
She spent many evening hours and hundreds of miles in her car during her first years as a financial advisor. After more than 20 years in the industry, Melanie knows the true meaning of hard work and has a gift for doing anything she puts her mind to, and doing it extremely well.
How many people (women specifically) do you know that can go an entire YEAR without buying anything that was not a necessity???  If you ask me that is simply crazy, but guess what, she did it and no one ever doubted that she wouldn't! 

One of the secrets to Melanie Meyer's success is her self-professed stubbornness.  I remember a time when she was scheduled to fly from Los Angeles to Minneapolis for a corporate-sponsored conference, she took the shuttle to LAX – almost. On the way to the airport, the shuttle broke down on a busy freeway. Melanie knew that if she waited for another shuttle, she'd miss her flight. So she grabbed her suitcase, hopped off the bus, stuck out her thumb and hitched a ride the rest of the way!

There's no doubt that Melanie is determined, motivated – even a little "stubborn" at times – but she's also compassionate. She is a leader who shares her time, her talent and her words of wisdom as a mentor to others in the field. Melanie is a friend and advisor to all her clients. She is always eager to impart the wisdom she’s learned through many years of working in the business.

Melanie also believes in giving back to our community.  Both she and her husband Jeff, were recognized as 2012 Philanthropists of the Year in Los Angeles.
She won’t be confined by boundaries. She won’t be stopped by the word no or limited by adversity or fear.  She continues to meet the needs of others and gives back "just because".  When Melanie believes in something, she says it, she means it and she lives it!

Melanie's not all work and no fun...she spends many of her weekend nights rocking the stage with her band, BlueSky. Simply put, she is a rockstar and is living the dream!

During our trip to Chicago, I was reminded that there are some really incredible experiences in this life. Some are so fun that your stomach aches from laughing and your face hurts from smiling. Some are so inspiring you just feel like your heart is going to burst.  This weekend was a combination of so many emotional experiences...happiness, fun, inspirational, humbling, and simply amazing!

Melanie...I raise my glass to you!  

I Know All The Words

This post was written by my dear friend and guest blogger, Tricia Swenson.

I know all the words to the Christmas songs you are hearing right now – on the radio, in the stores, on your iPod.  I was just listening to the radio while in the car the other day (yes, I still listen to the radio, just regular, local radio, not even satellite radio) and the classic, “Jingle Bells” came on and it was so familiar, like seeing an old friend.  I took comfort in it, even smiled, alone in my car while trying to find a parking spot. I started to sing along for a little bit, but after years of high school and college cheerleading and yelling at little kids to “make a wedge” while I was a ski instructor, I have vocal nodes and can’t belt out much of anything anymore.  But I’ll whistle, hum along, and even mouth the words in church while the congregation is singing a Christmas carol because I don’t want to be left out of the action.

I know all the words and I know all the songs.  They bring me comfort, sort of like going back for homecoming or a family reunion year after year, these songs return, the same time every season (or sometimes earlier than expected, like in the fall when the leaves haven’t even fallen yet and the big box stores are enticing you to come in and do your holiday shopping).  But just like that, those songs surround us.  I don’t have a favorite; I like different songs at different times.  “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” when I am feeling sentimental, “Jingle Bell Rock” when I am feeling festive, and “Silent Night” when I am feeling reflective and spiritual.

Elementary kids singing their hearts out

I know all the words.  I have known most of them since Kindergarten, learning the more complex songs and multi-part harmonies later in Junior High and High School.  I was fortunate to grow up during a time when Christmas programs were allowed in schools, and my school put on one of the best shows within a 7 county radius.  Our small school (I had 38 in my graduating class) hosted “productions” – we had spotlights, props, and narrators in costume, multiple sections of risers, we had fully decorated Christmas trees, tons of them, and the whole school was a part of it.  These “productions” were the brainchild of our musical directors at our school, Myron and Pam Dybing.  This husband-wife team was a powerhouse of musical talent, not only in what they taught us but what they could pull off with limited resources and time.  We didn’t notice as kids, we just thought it was fun to sing those happy songs, be a part of something bigger.  As an adult, I can appreciate the time and dedication it took to put this together and wonder how they did it for so many years.  

 

Stage Band

The annual Kindred School Christmas program took up the entire gymnasium and it was packed not only with kids from grades K-12, but everyone’s parents, grandparents, neighbors, empty nesters and alumni who didn’t live too far away.  We would incorporate not only voices, but instrumentals, fun items from the percussion department would come out, and oh how I loved the magical sounds of the chimes.  Our best and brightest singers would treat us to fabulous solos.   If, coincidentally you lost your two front teeth around, say, November, you were probably picked to sing the solo in “All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth”.  When show time arrived, it was a big deal.  The last minute jitters, realizing the difference between feeling ill and just being nervous, sweaty palms.

Swing Choir

Mr. and Mrs. Dybing had to single-
handedly pull us all together as a group and one quote I remember them saying was “don’t lock your knees” – something about fainting if you do.   And to “take a deep breath”.  I remember it being a night everyone looked forward to and we all dressed in our holiday best.  Plenty of velvet and satin ribbons, the occasional Kindergartener getting distracted and turning around to talk to a little friend in the row behind her, only to reveal she had tucked her red velvet dress into her bloomers with the white lace ruffles on them.  That comic relief was sometimes needed when the gymnasium was dark except for spot lights.  The hugs, praise, and big smiles were evidence the show was a success and surrounding school districts would envy our shows. We took great pride after it was done.  It was a highlight of the year.  

I know all the words to the songs and I am so glad I do.  I owe that to the dedication and hard work of the Dybings and their dedication to this sacred holiday and the example they set to “think big” and go for perfection.  I am glad I grew up with that opportunity and to this day will smile, try to sing along a bit, and never turn the radio station when those timeless tunes come on.