Mental health is real. It’s mean. It’s ugly. And it’s present.
Everyone battles some form of it. My friends and I joke that we are all on the spectrum somewhere (no disrespect to those on the spectrum. I have family members actually on the spectrum).
But for some reason it’s so hush hush. No one wants to talk about it because it may be a sign of weakness. I remember when I first started taking antidepressants I was so embarrassed and didn’t want anyone to know. I thought that if people knew they would think I was mentally unstable and crazy. Depression nearly ended my marriage once so maybe I was a little unstable but that’s why I needed help!! Duh!!
As an educator, I see tons of teachers dealing with their own mental health while trying to help students regulate their own. It’s exhausting. There are days that I can’t even get a lesson started because I’m trying to help my emotional students cope with their lives. The tears, the drama, the pain; it’s all very real to them so I treat it that way.
So many people are told to just “buck up and get over it.” While I actually have been guilty of saying this to my own children, there are times where you can’t just “buck up and get over it.” You need to cry buckets of tears. You need to wail. You need to ugly cry until you lose your voice. But should you feel guilty for that? NO.
There are so many misconceptions about showing emotions that even 10 year olds are confused about it.
Being emotional makes you very vulnerable, I get it. But we should be allowed to do it. It should be socially acceptable.
So why am I talking about this? Because I live in a very emotional household. My children are all over the place right now and I haven’t really felt I could honestly talk about it without judgement.
My oldest wants to move out because of some attachment issues. Got it. My middle lies and is so impulsive that he cannot be trusted alone anymore. Got it. My youngest knows everything and will argue that the sky is purple. Got it. And then there’s my second to oldest who has her life together for the most part and hardly needs me anymore. Got it.
Just typing this makes me want to cry. But I can’t. I don’t have time. (I’m literally moping after having a small therapy session with my middle son and his therapist.) And I have to be okay about all of this. But I’m not.
I hate seeing my kids suffer through their trauma. I hate trying 6457568754 different strategies to help them at home and watch every single one of them fail. I hate that they don’t see us as their family. I hate that they CAN’T see us as their family because of all the crap they’ve been through. But I’m supposed to be okay with it all because I’m the mom.
So I’ve been doing a lot more praying. I try to have quiet time but there’s always interruptions. I have joined a gym and work out with my second to oldest and my bestie. I write. I want to publish my book so bad I can taste it. I also read. I read through most of the winter to get my mind off of things. It was great therapy. So I am taking care of myself. I know how important that is. I really do. But I can’t help how I feel some days.
So the next time you see someone having a meltdown or needing to cry, take the judgement out of it and just look at the facts.
Love to all.