I’m working on so many things right now to try to get myself back to a place where I actually feel okay. This week’s Six Word Fridays word – “near” – seemed apropos, and I can sum up how I feel right now without having to say much more:
Making progress, getting closer, drawing near.
This week my sources of inspiration came mostly in snippets of song on the same theme – the one that keeps coming up over and over. This is the start of trying to explain what all this means.
***
I’m driving, going I don’t know where, in one of those sick-of-this, taking-lots-of-deep-breaths mindsets.
Another song comes on the radio. I don’t listen to the first verse, but I for damn sure hear the chorus.
This ain’t a song for the broken-hearted
No silent prayer for the faith-departed
I ain’t gonna be just a face in the crowd
You’re gonna hear my voice
When I shout it out loud[Chorus:]
It’s my life
It’s now or never…
It’s my life. Whether I feel I’m in control of it or not, it is. Now or never? I choose now.
(Thank you, Bon Jovi.)
***
Saturday morning. It’s raining. My boys are gone for the day. Rain drops tap on the skylight. “Sleep,” they tell me. “It’s a perfect day to sleep.”
I waffle. Close my eyes a bit more. Look at my puppy on the bed and think how nice it would be to just stay there, in the quiet, and sleep.
But I need to get up. I’ll feel worse if I don’t, and I need this run. And my friend needs it too. I committed to this – for her and for myself – so I leave the sound of raindrops behind and get up.
A bowl of cereal, half a cup of tea, and I’m out the door. The car radio’s on and there’s another song with a chorus that speaks to me.
‘Cause this life is too short to live it just for you
But when you feel so powerless what are you gonna do
So say what you want, say what you want
Nelly, you’re so right. (And you’re from my hometown.) This week I have felt powerless, more than ever before. I have to get this sorted out for me first, I know. But from very early on in this process of writing about my experience I’ve known this is more than just about documenting my experience.
I could get better and carry on with my life. But I don’t want to live it just for me. There’s an opportunity to do more and help others. So I’ll say it: that’s what I want. I want to do more than just write words on these pages. I want to help others.
***
Why do I want that, when I’ve got a perfectly good life that I could keep on living? Because I think it matters. And it’s about more than recovering from postpartum depression. It’s about being the best parent or the best person you can be. It’s about living the life you’re meant to live. So many people are paralyzed with fear. I have been and I’ve used all the same excuses: I can’t leave this job that pays well / I can’t lose my benefits / I can’t move away because my family is here / I can’t do that because I might not be good enough / I have no experience and no one will take me… I just…can’t.
I’ll tell you something – I feel all of that again now, and it’s only peripherally related to PPD.
I see all of these message on this same theme as signs and I’m trying to listen to them.
It’s your life – now or never.
Don’t be just a face in the crowd.
Say what you want.
Because life’s too short.
***
The final snippet came my way following a conversation with friends about depression, about what we want our lives to be, about how happiness is not a number on a scale or a certain lifestyle.
It was a conversation that was honest and inspiring and heartbreaking all at once. On the way home I heard a song by Amanda Marshall. The first time I watched the video, years ago, I cried. Driving home the other night I cried again because there is power in this song’s message.
I believe in power and in possibility. I believe in inspiration. I believe in myself. And I believe in you.
Yesterday, I blogged for Mental Health Day. And then in a fit of bravery, I posted the link to that post – and therefore to my blog – on my personal Facebook page, admitting what’s going on to another group of people.
And you know what? Today the world is still turning. Nobody called me crazy (at least not to my face.)
I was so scared to do that for so long, but it’s okay.
Throughout the day, there were reminders everywhere of how important mental health is. I mean, I’m aware of this all day every day, but yesterday was different.
I had an appointment with my therapist that was kind of hard. There’s something quite separate from my PPD that I’m struggling with right now, and she encouraged me to work on that. I don’t want to. I don’t even know how. I’m afraid that if I open that door it will be like opening a closet that’s been stuffed full of junk for years and years. Right now it’s only open enough for me to see what’s in there, but if I open it all the way the piled up junk is going to rain down on my head. I don’t feel ready to open it, but I might tomorrow. Maybe.
Then we were at friends’ last night for a barbecue, and Connor’s visit ended with a rather spectacular demonstration of Really Terrible Behaviour, so he was whisked home by dad. The good news is that while this incident caused a boatload of adrenaline to pump through me, I didn’t actually lose it. At other times I might have wanted to throw him across the yard, but that particular demon didn’t appear that time. Small steps.
Yesterday I also talked to some friends about depression – one who lives with it too and one who is struggling but finding it hard to let us help her. I want so badly to help, but I don’t want to push her either. (I’m still thinking about you, Ms. L. Take some time, but don’t hide for too long.)
The nightcap was a chat with my husband about this afternoon’s visit to the psychiatrist. I’m expecting her to tell me she wants me to stay on this medication for another two weeks. If she does, I’m also expecting her to tell me what that will help at this point. I don’t think it’s working and if I have to have one more anxiety attack or one more I-don’t-think-I-can-do-this-another-day sort of day, I’m going to take this precious medication and throw it out the window.
So yesterday I thought and wrote and talked a lot about mental health. Now I’m heading out to my appointment hoping someone will offer something that will give me a break for mine, because tomorrow is another day and I want it to be better.
Mental health issues are scary, right? If you have one, whatever you do DON’T ADMIT IT.
That’s the common philosophy, anyway. Why do we think that? Because we think that by not acknowledging the issue it will go away and no one will ever know we’re not perfect? Because we don’t want people to see us as weak or somehow less?
That’s what I thought, anyway.
I used to think mental health issues were scary. After dealing with my own and talking to others, I now find them a lot less scary.
I used to think people would see me as weak. After being open about it, I’ve discovered the exact opposite.
Right now I’m on leave from work to deal with an ongoing and very stubborn case of postpartum depression. My son is three. That’s a lot of crap, people. A lot of tears. A lot of yelling. A lot of pretending things were okay when in fact they were less okay than they had ever been.
When I first went on leave, I didn’t know what to say to the people I work with so I copped out with “spending time with family”. When it turned out my leave was going to be longer than the month I had indicated, I decided to fess up.
So I sent a note to my branch (about 10 or so of those people report to me) and to some others I work closely with. It took me several days to work up the nerve. And about 18 drafts in my head. And a few very deep breaths before I finally hit send. It’s one of the scariest things I’ve ever done.
What I expected was responses along the lines of, “Oh, I had no idea. Thanks for sharing. Wishing you well.”
What I got back was so much more than that – nothing but absolute support and sharing of their own personal stories.
Since it’s Mental Health Day I thought I’d share with you excerpts of some of the responses I got. A lot of these say really nice things about me, which I share not to make me sound awesome, but because sometimes these comments only come out this clearly when we tell people something honest and difficult about ourselves.
Here’s what some of them said:
“… I think the part of me that tends towards an emotional sensitivity gravitated towards the sensitivity and authenticity that is part of your nature. I think you’re an incredibly strong and wonderful person and I admire so much not only the way you lead but what you express of yourself, which is enlightened, passionate and straight from the heart. You make it easier for me to feel comfortable being my true self.”
“…What was not a surprise, and rather consistent over space and time, is your courage and ability to communicate and share your thoughts on a tough situation. As always, I’m blown away by your gift, to speak openly about something that is difficult to discuss. So thank you for sharing your story. Although it is tough to hear coming from someone you know (and can’t help them fix overnight), I would prefer to try and understand than to not know ….or worse be told something untrue.”
“I’m giving you a virtual high-five for sharing your story with me. Wow. Your courage is amazing. I’m honoured that you would share.”
“You are very brave and I am honoured that you shared this with me. It is so important to rip the veil off of the entrenched stigmas that keep us believing that we are less than perfect if we can’t just rise above.”
“…thanks so much for taking yourself and your health & your needs seriously and for being kind enough to share a little bit with people who care. You’re a fabulous role model, and I wish you exactly what you need to heal.”
“BRAVO, Robin! It’s a huge thing to come face to face with this issue and to take the time you need to deal, process, feel better, etc. That you would share this with us is also a significant step, and shows that you are serious about your leadership, as well as your efforts to heal.”
“You are a brave and incredible woman, Robin. I had no idea about any of this. That you came forward with your personal news is inspiring and really shows me, and all of us here, about what real leadership and self-preservation mean. And those things are what really matter.”
I know other people’s mental health issues – and willingness to share that information – are different than mine. I’ve seen some people share anonymously. I’ve seen some share selectively. I’ve seen some blow the doors open and just tell people without worrying about what they’ll think.
As for me, at first I didn’t realize PPD is what I was dealing with. And then I told no one, for a long time. And then I told a few people, some of them at work, because I was just not coping and when you’re completely losing it at work on a regular basis people are bound to suspect something’s up. I preferred them to know the truth than to think I couldn’t handle my job.
Then, in January, I started blogging about it. It was a whim, and I had no idea how public that would make it. If you read my first post, you’ll see that my boss found my blog before I had even posted anything. But I kept going. And I told a few more people. And a few more. And I talked about it on the radio. And then, after a long time searching for the right thing to do, I decided to tell my whole team at work.
I still don’t tell everyone I know. I don’t post my blog posts on my personal page on Facebook…yet. But I’m getting there. And you know what? Talking about it has been empowering.
I know not everyone is comfortable sharing stuff like this. But if you’ve been thinking about it, maybe this will reassure you that it might just be okay. If you don’t want to share, that’s okay too.
Either way, your mental health matters and there are so many safe ways to get support. You can start by reading the stories being shared during this Mental Health Blog Party and the resources linked to by the bloggers participating. One thing I know for sure is one of the biggest steps in feeling better is knowing you’re not alone.
As I write it’s 11 PM on Monday, May 16. Today has been a good day. A day where I can again see what I know to be true instead of seeing nothing because I’m overwhelmed by anxiety. I’ve had some time to think more clearly today about some things that have been lurking in my brain, but veiled and unclear.
Last year I came up with my seven-year plan – what I want to do over the next seven years to get me to something that has long been a dream of mine. Over the last few weeks that dream has vanished, or so I thought. It turns out my dream has changed.
This realization was hard. It tossed me upside down and turned me around and was one thing too much on top of all the other stuff that’s currently swirling around me. It made me question everything about myself and my identity, which was based largely on who I was in the environment that would allow this dream to be.
Some time in the last week I have started to see that new vision of my future more objectively, though as I type I notice an increase in adrenaline that tells me I’m not at ease with this yet. But I know it’s a process.
The other day I came across a quote. It was one I’d never heard before, though the sentiment was certainly not new, and I liked it. It embedded itself in me, somewhere comfortable where I could sit with it and see if I could allow it to be true.
Today I came across it again. Twice.
For at least two weeks, I’ve had a series of posts in draft that are meant to be grand, insightful, and inspiring descriptions of how I’ve found my purpose and why I think everyone should pay attention to signs. So far those drafts are mostly blank – just a source and an idea – with no way to express what the path it suggests for me is supposed to look like.
There are reasons I can’t solidify that path yet. Practical reasons, like money and family and mortgages. There are also emotional reasons for it, like the bigger battle I’m currently waging, but also the unanswered questions: How? And what if? And what if I don’t…?
But those questions aren’t going to answer themselves, and I’m starting to see the practical reasons less and less as obstacles. Sometimes we’re just meant to do something and while for me it’s not what I thought, I’m starting to understand a bit more what my something might be.
So, back to that quote. It’s time to do something about it.
I’m going to start taking little steps to see if all the things I’ve held on to for so long are things I can let go of to make space for the something that’s waiting for me.
I won’t do it all at once, but I’m going to start letting go.
