Vacation

It's been a long time coming and I didn't think we'd make it. With everything going on, this vacation we planned in December felt like it would never get here and if it did we would probably miss it. Yet here we are, at the beach. Eight days just the five if us. All five of us. Together. A miracle.

My daughter got out of the hospital on May 20. Can't believe it's been that long already, although some days it feels much longer. Sometimes it feels like everything learned there, everything gained was lost. By all of us. Like we have forgotten what she is dealing with and go back to the everyday, get-through-the-day lives we always had. We forget patience, she forgets her coping skills. We forget her brain is sick and she forgets we support her.

I think her biggest fear is that since she isn't in the hospital that we think she is better. That we think her new medication has solved everything and we don't need to worry about her mental illness anymore. As long as we dole out the proper number of pills everyday and make sure she gets enough sleep, she's fine. It's hard to remind her that we know that isn't true. We know that every day is a struggle. Every day is work. For all of us, just in different ways. Just as we can't fully understand what it is like to be her, she can't fully understand what it is like to be a family member, a parent, of someone with a mental illness.

But we try. We do our best, most days. Most days are good. Most days we are coming into our new normal. A family better understanding and adjusting. Most days, not all days. Many days we argue. Many days we don't want to try. Many days we blame each other.

Yet here we are. Imperfect. All five of us. Together at the beach for eight days. We brought it all with us, but we also left it all behind. Twenty-four hours in and we are enjoying each other again. Carefree and fun. Just what we needed. Re-energizing so that our best days continue to be most days. So that on the bad days, we can forgive each other a little easier. So we can have a little more patience. So we have more better days. This is the perfect reminder that each one of us, all five of us, matter as a part of this family and as individuals. We are the best, strongest, perfectly-imperfect family because we have each other.

This is our life. We are learning to live it. Together. All five of us.

The first day of the rest of her life

I don’t know why it feels that way. She is just out of her junior year and started her job shadowing today. Somehow she is all grown up and still my little girl who needs to be fiercely protected and monitored, watched over like a new baby. And yet there she is. In a salon all grown up and learning as she hopes to soon begin a career in cosmetology.

I have to admit, I am very nervous for her. What if she becomes overwhelmed? What if she talks too much or not enough and the stylists don’t like her? What if she doesn’t answer the phone correctly or forgets to offer a glass of water? Will she feel like a failure? Is she strong enough to try again and again? Or will she want to quit? Will her anxiety overtake her at the worst possible moment? Will she call me crying and wanting to come home early? If not today, when will it happen? Will it happen? What will it mean for the rest of her life? Why am I putting so much worry into one job shadowing experience half-way through her cosmetology education?

I have to remind myself that she is smart. And strong. And talented. And loves this field. I have to remind myself that we are still there when she gets home from the salon and there before she heads out. We are there if she falls and we are there when she succeeds. Because she will. She will struggle and she will excel. She will fall and she will soar. Everyone does. And she will learn how to handle it because we will be there every single step of the way. To support, to encourage, and to celebrate every single step. 

End the Stigma

I believe in the power of words and this Washington Post article is proof of just how powerful they can be. I appreciate the personal stories it includes and am encouraged by the support each person received once they shared their experiences and illnesses.

I could relate to so much of what was said in that article. My daughter has heard it all, especially about being overly dramatic and attention-seeking. My heart broke for her all over again as I read the stories. And I wondered, as a 16-year-old girl, will her peers be as accepting to her as adults have been to those in the article? I hope so, but I fear not.

I believe it is the personal stories that will help end the stigma of mental illness, not just those of the people diagnosed, but of their families, friends, classmates, and co-workers as well. We all are living with the illness. We walk on eggshells and try to console without truly understanding or comprehending the issue. We get verbally attacked and demeaned for not “getting it”. We are expected to come running when needed, but know when to provide space. We hear “I’m sorry” more than anyone on the planet. And sometimes we get blamed for making it worse.

We need to be strong. We need to learn to listen and be patient. We need to accept apologies every time because they are sincere every time. We have a responsibility to support our loved ones with every ounce of our beings. Even when it hurts, because it will. Even when we want to quit, because we will. Even when they push us away, because they will. We need to tell our stories so they know it is okay to tell theirs.

We need to keep the conversation going, to draw attention to the need for better care, not just for the ones we know, but the ones we don’t. Our loved ones, co-workers, friends, and strangers deal with enough most days just trying to be healthy. They can’t escape it. They don’t get a break. They don’t get to walk away from it or go on about their day without it. I don’t think we should either.

We need to be their strength when they have none. We need to listen when the world won’t. We need to be their voice when they don’t have one. We need to step up when they shut down. We need to do more than just listen to their stories, we need to act. We need to make it our job to end the stigma.