Getting Help

Three visits in with my therapist and starting to feel a smidge better. Not all the way better, but some of the way better. It’s hard to sit and be vulnerable and raw and talk things out and then shut the computer down and my brain is still swirling. I feel like those times that I have laid out too long on the beach without sunblock and I get in the car and my brain is fried and my body feels overexposed and I don’t want to talk to anyone. But it is worth it. The work.

I also have to work against myself. Ever since I was a little girl, I have been able to walk into a room and read people and know exactly how they tick within ten minutes. I always knew what my teachers would like for a response, what would get my coaches hyped up, what it would take to make my parents stop fighting, what guys would think was funny at a party. This is both a blessing and a curse. It has allowed me to get jobs, make connections, teach kids, help people. This knowing what makes people tick kind of a curse, but it has also left me terribly lonely at times. Just because you know what someone wants you to say, doesn’t mean you need to say it. Just because you know what will make someone else feel big and bold and brave, can make you feel small and less and nothing, And so, I am going into this therapy, this therapist, let’s call her Joan, because that’s a very therapy-like-name and I don’t want to win Joan’s affection, I don’t want to get an A+ in therapy. I really, at my core, just want to feel better.

Now if you are still feeling the post-Christmas bliss, this story may bring you down a couple notches, so maybe stop here if that feels right. Right before Christmas, my husband went on a trip out of state to see one of his closest friends. He had made the plans this summer and helped me secure rides and make plans for our two busy kids while he was gone. The problem with anxiety and depression is that you don’t shoulder it by yourself and someone helps you hold that backpack up and secure it on your back so that you can do your day and that someone is my husband. Before he left, I was terrified. He has been doing the rides, the soccer games, the ortho appointments, he has been doing the reminders in his phone and picking up the vitamins. I am embarrassed to admit that because work has had me in such a way, I have had trouble tracking the times of their games, when a friend needs help with a ride, when a neighbor has a holiday party. I have been so occupied making it minute-to-minute at work that somewhere along the way, I just let him take over. My kids even text me and write we will just ask Dad. I have felt lost and stupid and hopeless. My new gal, my new Joan, she reminds me that the brain protects itself in times of deep stress and it doesn’t take on new info anymore, it can’t and so she says give yourself a break for right now. Cut yourself some slack and so I try.

Which leads me to my husbands trip. He left and I did all the things. I woke up at 4 am. I worked out. I lifted our 14 year old chocolate lab down the stairs and gave him his four medications. I did the Christmas wrapping and the last minute shopping. I drove to the games and asked people for help with rides and I HATE TO ASK FOR HELP WITH RIDES. I kept my head up, I met friends for a drink at the depot. I tried to get the most sleep and yet as proud as I felt, I still felt like one of those late in the game Jenga towers that is just one block short of falling to the ground in a heap.

When my husband came back, I smiled and hugged him. I smiled only on the outside and relaxed a little on the inside. In being totally authentic, I waited until we were in a public restaurant and then boxed him into a corner and told him how miserable I was when he was gone. I sobbed in a downtown restaurant that we both love and frequent and sent my food back, because of the fight or the spices or both. It was then that I knew that my meetings with Joan brought up some of the ugly waves, before I could get to the nice peaceful water. I could see that my mental health had become a burden to the person that I love the most and this was the most eye opening of it all. And so my work continues. On myself and the reminder to not answer her the “right way” but the honest way. The way that opens doors instead of shoving shit into bins or closing the cupboard fast and hoping everything stays put.

I have people coming up to me and sending me messages saying they could never be as open as I am about the way that I struggle and that they pray for me. Make no mistake and I mean no disrespect, but I am not sharing my struggle because I am weak, I am Strong AF and brave like no other. People, especially women, and mothers have been struggling like this for years and turned to alcohol or drugs or any avenue of distraction that really solves nothing. I appreciate the prayers, but more than anything I appreciate your honesty, especially if you read all of mine. Don’t act like it’s perfect when it’s not. Take time during your day to feed your soul and show others your imperfections. They are not weakness. They make you human. Feel all the feels, say what you need and get help whatever means necessary.

These past couple of days, have felt really blissful to me. I was at my most joyful Christmas eve, during brunch at A1 Diner. I was sipping on hot coffee, eating a gingerbread waffle and my son was next to me, my daughter diagonal, my husband opposite. The presents were finished, no one had to quarantine, no one was wearing a mask. My heart was happy and my brain did not have that weighted blanket on it. I want this for myself always, at work, everyday. I want to be the bright light on every restaurant booth and not the fake, synthetic bright light, but like the real bright light that I know I can be . 2022 here I come, not boldly into the room, but softly and with a few hands on either side until I find the right door to open.