I woke up today.
I didn’t take a shower. I didn’t change out of my pajamas. I didn’t make breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.
I didn’t do laundry. I didn’t do the dishes. I didn’t sweep. Or dust. Or vacuum.
I didn’t answer the phone. I didn’t check my email. I didn’t do. Or plan. Or achieve.
But I woke up today. And today, that’s enough.
Every time I’ve chosen to write something about my struggles with mental health on social media, I’ve received messages and texts from people thanking me for sharing. Most of these include sentences like, “You’re so brave!” or “I could never share about my own struggles publicly.” And that makes me sad…because it shouldn’t be that way.
When my mom was diagnosed with cancer, people contacted me to set up a Caring Bridge site so they could follow how she was doing; dozens jumped in to help put on a benefit for her. Friends brought cards and flowers and frozen lasagnas. I still feel the warm fuzzies when I think about all the support our family received. About three years ago, I was hospitalized for severe depression. And you know what? I was honest about the severity of my illness publicly for the first time. At first I was scared out of my mind. And then the cards started showing up. And the flowers. And some good ol’ North Dakota hotdish.
And since that experience, I’ve learned that I can give a voice…and a face…to mental illness. I’m your next-door neighbor. I’m the lady in Target looking through the clearance rack. I’m your kid’s teacher who’s trying so hard not to bawl at graduation. I’m normal (I use this term loosely but I think you get what I’m saying). Normal people struggle with mental health issues. And it’s okay to say that you are part of the club, too. To quote Colonel Mustard from the classic 1980’s movie “Clue,” “There’s safety in numbers, my dear.” If you are feeling up to it, take a brave step and share your journey with someone…share it with me if you’d like…because there really is safety and comfort in sharing our struggles and carrying them together.
So I did a thing today. I cleaned out our pantry. It had turned into a black hole. Trying to find anything in there was like looking for one particular puzzle piece in a 1,000 piece box. And here’s a little trivia about me: I freaking hate puzzles. So needless to say, the pantry was turning me into a rage monster every time I needed something.
Today I decided to suck it up and clean it out. I started by taking everything out, checking dates as I went and throwing away anything that expired before my youngest son (currently 8) was born. I found five open boxes or lasagna noodles and a cake mix that expired in 2009. I am proud of neither of these facts.
After I had everything out, I started categorizing: cereal, cans, sauces, etc. I found the cute organizing bins Dollar Tree. The fabric ones I used for pasta, rice, and flour/baking supplies. The blue plasticizes I used to sort cans by type: veggies, fruit, beans, and soup. I had so much room left over that I was able to move things from other cupboards into the pantry, because having bags of flour in four separate kitchen cabinets was (insert eye roll here). I even had room for all my protein shakes that I accidentally ordered too many cases of from Amazon Subscribe and Save (don’t judge–I did the same thing with toilet paper right before the shortage and was suddenly very popular with friends and family I hadn’t seen for a while).
All in all, it took a couple of hours and I snuck away in the middle to watch an episode of Schitt’s Creek, so it wasn’t the worst day ever. My hubby made pasta for supper and could easily find the variety he was looking for. My kids said the pantry looked nice, too, which I appreciated…especially since I told them if they didn’t put stuff back in the “right” place I would kick them in the shins. Just kidding–I would never do that. I would just passive-aggressively put their stuff where it didn’t belong…like on the lawn, or in a garbage can. Anyway, even though my energy was low and my stick-with-it-ness has been less than stellar lately, I’m really proud of myself for taking it on, getting it done, and doing something that will improve our lives, even if just by a little bit, everyday. I’m going to bed tonight feeling like I kicked depression’s butt a little bit today…and that feels good.
When my mom was dying of cancer, I went quite a while without eating much; I just wasn’t hungry. I asked my doctor if he could give me something to calm my anxiety a bit. He did, and my appetite started to come back. I had a friend (I use the term “friend” more as a substitute for “soul sister” or “one without whom I could not get through life”) take me out to a local diner. I will remember that plate of pancakes and bacon for the rest of my life. To have a person in your life who so perfectly knows what your soul needs at a given moment is priceless.
This same friend sent me a book last week. It was exactly what my soul needed. And now I have decided that it is my job to tell everyone on Earth that they must read it. “Broken (in the Best Possible Way)” by Jenny Lawson will make you feel all the feels. I laughed so hard (at several different spots) that I had to stop reading because I couldn’t see the page anymore through the tears. There are other chapters where she talks about her struggles with anxiety and depression so relatably (stet) that I was channeling my inner Jonathan Van Ness and exclaiming, “Yas, girl!” (stet) as I read. If you’ve ever been frustrated with your health insurance, there’s a chapter for you. If you’ve ever been mad at your significant other, there’s a chapt…nah (stet), the whole book is for you. Now when I’m frustrated with my husband, I call him Victor (okay, maybe only in my head). And my new favorite word is “stet” (if you couldn’t tell). My friend enjoys her copy as an audiobook; I enjoy mine as a hardcover. Whichever way you experience it, maybe don’t while you’re driving (at least the first time through). You’ll probably get into an accident from laughing so hard you can’t see straight or, you know, having your face in a book while behind the wheel. I give this book all of the stars, infinite thumbs-up, a big hug, and my whole-hearted endorsement. Grab a copy today. Go. Now. Enjoy!
Why do you get up in the morning and why should anyone care? This is a tough question to answer any time, but ask someone with depression and anxiety and it can send them into a tailspin. The school at which I teach asked all educators to answer this question and hang this–our “why”–by our door. Until recently, I felt a huge slice of the pie chart of my life revolved around being an educator. If anyone asked me to tell about myself, my answer was always “wife-mom-teacher” with what felt like almost equal weight to each title. Then…
Then I got the answer to the other big question of my life: If everything happens for a reason, why do I have depression and anxiety so freaking badly?! The answer seems to be to help my son, currently eight years old, with his mental health issues. When our mornings were filled with suicide threats and screams of monsters and shadows coming for him, I knew I could not be both the mom he needed and deserved and the educator my learners at school needed and deserved. While I never had considered homeschooling before the development of these issues, it quickly became the most logical choice for our family. The letter saying we were breaking the law because of all the school he missed and that we’d need to go to attendance court was the cherry on top of my anxiety sundae. So, I took a leave of absence from school starting in early March and started spending all. the. days. with my son. Slowly, things are starting to get better. We continue with therapies and finally got him started on medication. He has moved on to third grade curriculum and learned some extra stuff like how to play chess (he’s scary good).
He wants to go back to school this fall. I want him to go back to school this fall. But that’s where my fear kicks in: What if things go wrong? What if we need to go back to homeschooling? I am scared to death to sign a contract for next year not knowing what his needs will be. On top of that, I feel like I’ve let my co-workers down so much this year that I don’t deserve to go back. I’m sure they hate me–and they should. I’ve truly let everyone down. My own anxiety and depression have really ramped up over the past few months, and I’ve never really bounced back after a particularly rough patch about a year ago. These days I accomplish very little other than teaching my kiddo. I spend most hours of the day in bed, either sleeping or worrying.
So, what is my “why” in starting this blog and YouTube channel? Why should anyone care if get out of bed in the morning?
Because of the hope I want to share with you. Because every day you and I wake up breathing there is hope for a better tomorrow, a better afternoon, a better morning, a better minute. Join me for little things that can help you and me get through the day…or survive a few minutes at least. Let’s do little things together to take care of ourselves even when we don’t feel like it or feel like we deserve it. I’m going to be raw, and I’m going to be real, and hopefully sometimes I’ll be funny, too. I’m going to be myself–mental health issues, messy house, messy ponytail, and all.
Thanks for joining me on this journey, and for coming with as we find hope in the little things.
