Author: Melissa

A New H.O.P.E.

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Hello! I haven’t posted in quite a while because I felt I needed to rethink my site’s mission. I thought about what I love the most–being a mom and being a teacher–and how I could incorporate both of those into my message about mental health. So, welcome back to H.O.P.E. with Melissa:

Honest

Odyssey of a 

Parent and

Educator

When I think about what I want to share, my main goals are to be transparent in my family’s experiences with mental health, as well as offer ideas to others that I use in my classroom and at home that have been helpful in some way with this adventure we call life. 

This school year I started a new teaching position at a psychiatric hospital and I. Love. It. I have up to 36 students each day coming from up to just as many different schools. When they enter my classroom for the first time, all I know about them is their name and age. Diagnoses can include depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, and bipolar disorder. I’ve had students with intellectual disabilities and others who are taking advanced placement and college-level courses. They can be in kindergarten or seniors in high school.

I feel I’m pretty good at flying by the seat of my pants; this may sound like I just make things up as I go but I really just have Plan A, and Plan B, and Plan C, and Plan D ready to go, with a sprinkle of “just in case” also lined up. Because this is how my brain works, this job is a really good fit for me. I’ve developed some strategies that may be useful for other educators or parents to try, and I’m excited to share them with you.

I’m finding my own mental health to be, actually, the best it’s been in probably as long as I can remember. I’m genuinely happy to get out of bed in the morning. I didn’t know you could spend Sundays with no anxiety about the upcoming week. I want to do lots of stuff, not just take naps (although I still enjoy a good afternoon snooze when I can sneak one in). 

I know I haven’t been taking care of my physical health as much as I should. I need to make better food and exercise choices. My headaches and migraines have been especially bad lately which makes it really hard to want to cook a meal and hop on the treadmill when I get home when we can just grab a pizza and watch tv. I need to find some ways to motivate myself to make the changes I know I need to make. I can do anything but not everything; I just need to move the healthier stuff up in my priorities list.

I’m pretty much addicted to Schitt’s Creek.

So welcome back to Hope with Melissa, or just welcome to the page! I hope you’ll stick around and I’ll try my best to get new content up at least once a week!

When Nothing Is Sure, Everything Is Possible

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As you may have noticed, I haven’t written a blog post in quite a while. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and have been wanting to write; the problem has been not knowing what to write that sticks with my topic of coping and hoping with mental illness.

I’m feeling good. Really good. Happy. I feel so much more “me” than I have in literally years. Life isn’t perfect but those things that could ramp my anxiety from 0 to 100 in two seconds flat just aren’t affecting me the way they have in the past. I wake up in the morning excited about the day ahead of me and without the anxiety elephant sitting on my chest squishing the air out of me. The only thing that is kind of getting to me is the voice that says, “You know this probably won’t last forever, right?” It might not, but I’m going to enjoy the heck out of it while it does. And, honestly, I feel like the good stuff is going to stick around for quite a while.

This school year I started a new position teaching at a mental health hospital. I get to teach the kids who are in the partial hospitalization program. They come to the hospital in the morning and go home in the afternoon. I have up to four one-hour-long class sessions each day where I get to work with the kids to keep them caught up with what’s going on in their regular classrooms so they aren’t as behind when they go back.

I. LOVE. IT. I have a spacious classroom with THREE windows (just having a window is a first)! I get to work with kids of all ages and ability levels. Every part of this job is like it was made for me. I get to combine my passions of teaching and mental health every single day.

Additionally, both of our boys have had great back-to-school experiences. We “graduated” from in-home therapy and Cullen will continue seeing his own therapist who goes out to his school to see kids (which is amazingly awesome so parents don’t have to worry about how to transport kids into town for an appointment on a weekday when most work). I’m very hopeful that he will continue to have a great school year with his friends AT SCHOOL!!

I just got a new set of stickers for my planner and as I was looking through them, one stood out to me so strongly I felt like it punched me in the brain. It says, “When nothing is sure, everything is possible.” If that doesn’t perfectly sum up the last year (or more), nothing could.

I am a person who likes (…ok, needs) organization, order, planning, rules, checklists, spreadsheets, agendas…you get the picture. When I can’t count on those things, my brain short circuits. It wants to follow a nice, straight, predictable line. It does not want to follow the scribbles of a three-year-old hopped up on hot chocolate and M&M’s who just dumped out a 64-count box of Crayolas.

But I discovered that riding the Hot Mess Express can bring you to a station you didn’t even know existed…a place that is even better than what you thought you were heading for. And that’s where I am now. A few months ago, nothing was sure. Even though I didn’t realize it then, now I know that meant everything—even all kinds of super great stuff—was possible. And is possible. And is actually happening. Right. Now.

I’m not sure exactly where I want to take my blog next. I know I love writing and I want to keep doing it for whatever size audience I may have. I’m not going to worry about it. Why? Because when nothing is sure, everything is possible.

Thanks for reading.

I. Will. Do. This.

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This week in my Facebook memories, a picture from four years ago popped up of me during my first doctoral residency. Boy, do I remember that week. I still need a Tylenol just thinking about that week. Now, I think about everything I’ve been through since that picture was taken…and I’m kinda proud of myself.

During my first residency four years ago

This week I am participating in my university’s research seminar for those of us who are still working toward finishing our dissertations. I’m not gonna lie; I was super nervous about this week. I felt like I was so embarrassingly far behind everyone else I shouldn’t butt my way into class and use resources that could go to someone else. (And that sounds awful now that I’ve actually written those words out—yikes.)

But…I’m actually making a lot of headway and I’m really proud of myself. On Monday morning, I felt like I was floating around (above?) Dissertationland. By Wednesday, I felt like my anchor had dropped. Now—Thursday evening—I feel like I can conquer this beast…that I WILL conquer this beast…that I will eat peer-reviewed journal articles for breakfast until I slay this dragon.

I have every remaining step outlined with due dates so I can graduate in May 2022. I happened to look up on what day I will finally walk across that stage in my funny looking hat: May 21. My mom’s birthday. It’s like a message straight from heaven telling me I. Will. Do. This. (and my mom knows I will, too).

My planner!

I have worked harder and longer this week than I have in a very long time; it feels really good. It’s not very often (especially lately) I feel that I’m actually good at something and that I should feel proud of myself. But right now, I really do. And I’m going to enjoy it. And I’m going to keep working until I meet this goal and get to add those two wonderful little letters in front of my name.

I hope each of you has something dear to your heart that makes you feel fulfilled, accomplished, and proud. Enjoy those warm fuzzies—you deserve it!

Sincerely,

The future Dr. Uetz

ThoughtsThoughtsThoughts

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Wow, I totally disappeared for a while and I’m so sorry.

I’m used to my brain being overloaded with “bad” thoughts but for the past few weeks, my mind has been racing with “I should” thoughts: I should shop for Instacart, I should do the dishes, I should redo the flower garden, I should fold some laundry, I should binge watch Law and Order SVU, I should go to TJ Maxx and buy candles, I should sell clothes on Poshmark, I should paint the half bathroom…and on and on and on nearly every waking minute of the day and it was just so much I ended up doing…well, pretty much nothing. The thing is, while my brain was racing I didn’t realize how much it was causing a work-stoppage issue in my life. Hey, my mind is actually thinking positive, future-focused thoughts. That has to be good, right? Not so much in this case. Darn it.

Since my mind was all over the place, I decided I needed to set priorities. I asked myself where I want to be in a year, and worked backward to figure out what to focus on now. In normal “me” fashion, I thought of about 147 things I wanted to do, but made myself pick just one to start with. I thought about picking two or three or five…but I know me and I would just keep adding and adding so I made myself pick. Just. One. Ugh. Hard.

There’s SO much I want to do. I know I need to find a way to balance earning an income and being available when my kids need me. I also know I will be working on writing my dissertation, and the never-ending process of cleaning/organizing/painting/decorating our home. And that’s ok—I need to do all that stuff, too. But when I’m stuck in my mental hamster wheel of “I should,” I need one North Star to guide me into positive action instead of being glued to my bed in inaction.

What did I land on? I decided my top priority is my physical health. I am in the worst shape of my life and at my highest weight ever. I hate it. I need to change the way I eat and move. So, I took the laundry off the treadmill, dusted off my tennis shoes, and signed up for a virtual 5K (that I will walk) in August (on what would have been my grandma’s 88th birthday…I took it as a sign that I was supposed to do it). I’m also recording what I eat so I can watch the calories and make healthier choices. I decided to start with this goal because I know when my body feels better, my brain feels better. And if my body can’t do anything without feeling like its going to keel over, then I can’t do fun stuff…or any stuff…and that sucks. So, my physical health is priority one.

In true special educator style, I invented a graphic organizer to help me succeed. A few weeks ago I crowned my self the Queen of Overthinking. I was able to reframe that title and the mental picture that went with it into the graphic organizer. I pictured a queen’s crown with the subject of my overthinking in the band. All my overflowing thoughts fit onto the short spikes and my focus thought went on the long middle spike. (Do those parts have a special name? I googled it and can’t find anything.) Picturing this has helped me tremendously. I’m allowing the superfluous thoughts to have some space and not be labeled as “bad” but my energy is directed toward the focus thought. My aim is narrowed in on the bullseye instead of over the whole wall.

“Crown” graphic organizer for overthinking
Example of overthinking crown with my focus thought in the middle. The other thoughts aren’t bad; I want to focus my thinking on my chosen priority.

Do you ever have too many thoughts going on at one time? What will be your focus? I am going to focus on my physical health right now by taking a walk outside with Bon Jovi keeping me company. And later when my brain starts playing pinball with my thoughts, I’ll keep my priority in focus as I decide the next right step to take.

Thanks for reading!

Depression & Grief

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I am in a funk. I don’t want to do anything. I didn’t wake up today until after noon. I don’t feel any more depressed than “normal” (which actually hasn’t been that bad lately); I really just teeter between sad and numb from the grief over losing my grandma. There are so many things that need to be done, but here I sit in my bed, trying to distract my brain with solitaire and Yahtzee on my phone.

I should be doing dishes. I should be doing laundry. I should be grocery shopping. I should be doing…something…anything productive. But here I sit.

My mind volleys between “give yourself grace” and “get your butt moving.” But it doesn’t seem to matter if I’m easy or hard on myself—the result is the same. My memory tries to pull up what I’ve learned in therapy in the past: set a small, reachable goal; set a timer for ten minutes and do a chore until the buzzer dings; change out of my pjs. But my brain tells me I may as well decide to fly to the moon—that’s just as likely to get accomplished as the dishes.

I think what I’m realizing is that coping with depression and grief require two separate recipes. I don’t know why I previously concluded they were the same…maybe because they both consume your consciousness in the most painful of ways.

My grandma’s death happened without much time to mentally prepare. Her funeral was only five days ago; three weeks ago from right now she was sitting at home with Grandpa watching Jeopardy with the volume set to rival a jet engine.

I’ve had depression long enough to know how to manage it—medication, therapy, and a lot of grace—and know that it’s a long-term, brain chemistry issue. I haven’t had as much experience with grief—especially surprise grief—so I’m not as familiar (and even comfortable) in dealing with it.

And that’s ok. I know my sadness is a result of an amazing love I will always have for my grandma, whereas my depression is caused by my brain being a punk. I now recognize that there is a profound difference between the two.

So here I will sit. I will give myself grace. I will be ok with some dirty dishes and laundry. I will recognize that my grief is not the same as my depression, and know that it will subside in time. I will remember that deep grief is a result of deep love and a relationship I wouldn’t trade for anything.

I don’t have any amazing words of wisdom to share. I do want you to know that if you are experiencing grief—whether it’s from last week or the last century—you deserve grace and gentleness both from yourself and those around you. There is no “right” timeline for experiencing grief. It’s ok to feel like you’re in a funk.

Recognizing the value of the relationship and reframing your grief as a tribute to the person you lost doesn’t take away the pain, but can help you feel some comfort in such a difficult time. Keep holding onto the hope of a brighter tomorrow.

Coping and Hoping through Grief

Melissa1 Comment

The past week has felt like one very long day, punctuated by brief restless sleeps and consumed with intense grief. My grandma passed away Monday just before three in the morning. I was privileged to be with her in the moment she took her final breath, with my hand on her shoulder and my eyes soaking up every last detail of her beautiful face that they could.

Losing one’s grandparents is part of the normal order of life, but for me that expected sequence was flipped around. I lost both my parents while my maternal grandparents were still alive, so they took on an even deeper importance—if that’s possible—and filled part of the parentless void that had been left in my life. My 88-year-old grandpa is still with us; seeing his heart completely break over the loss of his wife of nearly 69 years is equally as difficult as the loss of my grandma is.

Coping with grief through anxiety and depression is difficult. I am very much a “show me the schedule” type of person due to my anxiety, but loss doesn’t follow a set agenda.

Before Grandma passed, at first we thought she would return home, then we thought she would go to a rehab facility, then we thought she would go home under Hospice care, then she declined so quickly that she stayed in the hospital. Everything happened so rapidly that the only thing I came to expect was more change.

Then, after she passed, not knowing the exact itinerary of the memorial service ahead of time made me feel quite anxious. Who would be there? How would Grandpa hold up? Would there be songs? Which ones? How would my boys be? Would Cullen make a “Karen” joke to a relative named Karen?

Cullen, our 8-year-old, is named after my grandma (it’s her maiden name) and has anxiety and depression just like me. He was very close to his great grandma—Nana, as my boys called her. My husband and I knew he would need breaks during the two-hour visitation time before the service so he took both our boys out for a bite of food and then took Cullen for an extended car ride before returning for the service.

My heart broke even further seeing my boys weep during the service for the Nana they so dearly loved. At the same time, my heart was filled as they comforted me despite their own grief.

How can we help our kids—with or without mental health issues—through the death of a loved one? How can we be gentle with ourselves through our grief? Here are some things that helped my family throughout the past week, especially during the visitation and service, and I hope they can help yours, too:

1. Let everyone know what to expect (to the extent possible). Will there be an open casket? An urn? Who will be there that they know? Will there be any unfamiliar-to-them religious practices that you can explain ahead of time?

2. It’s ok to cry. It’s ok not to cry. Whatever you are feeling is right for you.

3. It’s ok to laugh at happy memories and stories. It doesn’t mean you are any less sad.

4. It’s ok to hug. It’s ok not to hug. You get to decide.

5. It’s ok to take a break. Scope out some break-time options like a separate room, a back corner, a place outside, or even the car.

6. It’s going to feel weird and uncomfortable at times. Everyone else is feeling it, too.

7. It’s ok to ask any questions you have.

8. People will be sad for different amounts of time, including after the funeral. A piece of you may always be sad. However, it’s ok to start feeling happy again, too, whenever you are ready.

I think the most important take-away is that everyone grieves in their own way. There isn’t one right way to do it, and sharing information and answering questions can help calm anxieties. Grief has a thousand different faces and it can be complicated by mental health issues. Give yourself, your children, and those around you grace and space. Today might not be the day a smile returns to your face…but tomorrow might be.

I was beyond blessed to have my grandma for 42 years of my life. It doesn’t quite feel real yet that I won’t see her again on this side of heaven…but it’s time to start a new day. Love you forever, Nana!

Love and Chicken Nuggets

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There are nine chicken nuggets in my purse.

My 87-year-old grandma is in the hospital. She hasn’t had much of an appetite for quite some time, and it’s hard to see her so weak and in pain.

Yesterday she got hungry specifically for Burger King chicken nuggets and I was more than happy to deliver. I ordered ten nuggets, remembered the honey mustard, and headed up to room 527.

In perfect Nana style she said, “Why’d you order so many?! I can’t eat that much!” I assured her ordering ten was cheaper than four or six (I’ve never understood nugget math) and that answer was acceptable enough for her to request the opening of the sauce.

She managed to only eat about half of one and adamantly insisted that I take the rest home for the boys. So I dutifully put the bag of leftovers in my purse.

I forgot about it until I got to CVS in Target today so Harris could get his second covid shot and I opened my purse to find his vaccine card.

Nuggets. I cringed. Then I giggled.

My grandma is the woman who has been in my life the longest (my mom, her daughter, passed away in 2010). Grandma is absolutely the most stubborn, bull-headed (Grandpa’s word) human being I have ever met. And I couldn’t love her more.

Because of her, I grew up knowing that women could be feisty and opinionated. I’ve only ever seen her wear a dress in pictures; she made it quite clear she would be attending my wedding in pants…and I couldn’t have cared less as she danced with me that night more than anyone else (I also knew if I ever met anyone as kind and patient as my grandpa, that’s who I should marry…and I did).

I took the bag of nuggets out of my purse when we got home. It’s still sitting on the kitchen counter; I just can’t bring myself to throw them away yet. They are a tangible memory at a time when I don’t know how many more I will get to make.

I do know that whenever that time comes, I have been blessed with over four decades of my grandma’s love…and her feistiness, her passion, and her example of how to be yourself. For that, I will be eternally grateful. Love you, Nana!