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Mental Health Matters #endthestigma

I haven’t written a blog post since February, there are many reasons for that and someday, I may fill you in completely, but for now, I will let you know one of the reasons… my Mental Health.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month and I began this blog in May 2016 as a place for me to discuss mental health and sexual assault issues. This blog has been a life saver to me as I wrote about my own struggles with mental health issues in hopes of helping others with theirs, especially during the times when I felt completely alone as though nobody was listening.

This past year has been a struggle with my anxiety often being in overdrive and leading me to question my very existence. There were weeks where getting out of bed in the morning was a herculean effort, just to do the things required of living was exhausting, never mind keeping two other humans alive as well.

I realized that my mental health needed attention and sought help in the form of a Christian counselor. I do my best to keep the fact that I follow Christ out of what I write on here, but this year that has been part of what has saved me so in this blog, I’m going to include it.

I wanted to find a counselor who understood mental health issues like anxiety, and also understood my belief in God and how strongly I hold onto Jesus in the deepest, darkest of times in my life. It has helped tremendously!

I know I will always have anxiety, it’s just a part of who I am. Most of the time it’s my superpower, but sometimes it’s my unraveling, as it tried to be this past year. Talking with someone who understands anxiety and lots of prayer helped me pull out of the deep trenches of anxiety and back into the land of the living.

Recently, a Christian told me that because of my anxiety, I live in fear. Because I’m living in fear, I’m not a good Christian and I’m allowing the devil to have a stronghold in my life.

This person has not talked with me about what I’ve done to combat my anxiety and fears. They have not asked to pray with me about my anxiety. They have not asked what they can do to ease my anxiety. They haven’t asked if my anxiety is better or worse.

They just decided that because I have anxiety, I am allowing the devil a place in my life and I need to get my life right with God and back on track. When I do that, then everything will be better.

This person has no idea the work that I have done with my counselor and with God this year to get better. I am better for the time being. I know that a bad bout with anxiety will come again, that’s the nature of the illness. It pretends to be my friend for a while, then BAM, it turns on me.

This person telling me that I just need to get right with God reminded me of this cartoon:

If we treated physical illnesses the same way we treat mental illnesses.

Mental illnesses are real! They are no more about the devil taking over a person’s life than any physical illness is.

Would somebody ever tell a person with cancer that they just need to pray more, or that they just don’t believe in God enough to be healed, or that they must be allowing the devil to have a stronghold in their life because they aren’t getting better.

Unfortunately, there are Christians who believe these lies about physical and mental health. Well I don’t.

We live in an imperfect world and I am an imperfect human. That means I have flaws and illness and I make mistakes and I have heartbreaks.

It also means that I am worthy of love.

Period.

No, “You are worthy of love; if you do this…”

I am worthy of love because I am me. That’s it. Whether you approve of who and how I am and the illness I have or the mistakes I make. I am worthy of love.

I have value because I am a human being.

I will not be ashamed of my mental illness.

“But you’re not ashamed?” “I trust GOD with all my heart. He hasn’t taken my anxiety and depression away yet…but he has taken my shame.”

Sticks and Stones

https://medium.com/@havenstrange.1/words-hurt-an-experiment-3b9bab69566f

Growing up, children should feel safe, secure, loved, and cherished. Unfortunately that isn’t always the case. Many children grow up feeling like the love of their parents is conditional. That their safety is reliant on their parents mood that day. That security is the guy at the door of the Target store. They’ve never heard of nor felt being cherished and wouldn’t even know that it was something they deserved.

Children growing up in these environments tend to become peacemakers, putting the needs of others before their own. Working their hardest to keep everyone else, especially their parents, “happy” so that they can feel safe and loved. It sounds like it might be a good thing, but it’s not for many reasons. Children who do this begin to believe that they don’t matter, their feelings don’t matter, their needs don’t matter. They internalize the idea that the only thing that matters is keeping the people who are supposed to love them unconditionally happy, so that they will continue to love them.

When they grow up, these children have a higher tendency to wind up in a physically or emotionally abusive relationship and may not even realize it, because that’s what they’re used to. They have learned that the people who love them also hurt them. That love and pain go together. They have been conditioned by the situation they grew up in to believe that those who love them will also make them feel worthless.

Or maybe, the abused child has learned they were abused as a child and healed from it. Maybe they thought they learned from that. Maybe they find a romantic partner who values them and shows genuine love. Somebody who totally understands the abuse they suffered and helps them continue to heal throughout the rest of their life. That would be amazing. There are people out there who will be that person for the abuse survivor.

Then there are people who will know that the person is an abuse survivor and try to understand, but because they don’t have empathy, they may be unable to truly help. After awhile, they may end up saying things to the abuse survivor that are hurtful, that cause the survivor to revert back to the hurt, insecure, scared child, but because of therapy, the survivor is able to say something to the partner. The partner apologizes or explains away the behavior and the abuse survivor, wanting to be loved, accepts and forgives and moves forward.

The hard part in all of this is that the words leave scars. If the motivations for the negative words are never dealt with, the scars may get infected. If the words continue to happen, if a pattern of negative words emerge, the childhood abuse survivor may end up becoming the victim of adult domestic partner violence.

The survivor of childhood abuse needs to heal from that, face it and always confront it in all relationships moving forward. Nobody ever deserves to be abused, sometimes abuse is so covert that we don’t even realize it’s happening, even more so if you are the survivor of childhood abuse.

Always, always, always be careful with your words. According to several relationship researchers, including John Gottman and April Stevenson, it takes a ratio of 7:1-4:1 of positive to negative interactions for people to maintain a positive relationship. That means that you need to have somewhere between four and seven positive interactions to every negative interaction to maintain a good relationship and build a person up. So when you criticize a person, you better have at least 4 good things to say about them too, I would tend to go overboard for a child. But be specific. Say things like, “You did a great job cleaning up the clothes off your bedroom floor.” “You worked really hard on that math homework.”

If you are an abuse survivor though, I think you can set boundaries without doing this. Telling somebody they hurt you, is not being critical as long as you do it in a way that emphasizes your feelings. Such as “I felt hurt, when I was told________________, because_________________.”

www.pinterest.com/pin/323837029429358137

It would be amazing if we could end childhood abuse and domestic abuse, but as long as there are humans involved in relationships, we won’t be able to. Until then, my hope is that all who have been abused will find the help they need. Here are a few resources if you have been abused or know someone who has been abused:

The M3ND Project Home

Home

National Domestic Violence Hotline

Home

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Never Enough or Too Much

I spent a lifetime hearing from others that I wasn’t enough, or I that was too much.

I wasn’t smart enough. “Why isn’t this A an A+?”

I wasn’t dumb enough. “Oh my God, how’d YOU get an A on that?”

I wasn’t pretty enough. “You’re just lucky that I like you, with how you look!”

I wasn’t girly enough. “Do you even have any estrogen in you?”

I wasn’t Christian enough. “How can think that? Are you even a REAL Christian?”

I wasn’t American enough. “How can you teach about slavery; don’t you love America?”

I was too much of a nerd. “Do we always have to go to museums on vacation?”

I was too emotional. “Stop crying before I give you something to cry about!”

I was too anxious. “You know that’s not really going to happen, right? You worry too much about everything!”

I was too tense. “Can’t you ever just relax?”

I was too much of a vagabond. “Geez, how many places have you lived?”

I was too compassionate to others. “You want to take care of everyone else and you don’t care about your own family!”

I was too selfish. “I can’t believe you got McDonalds for dinner; you know I’d rather have something you cook?”

I was too needy. “I can drive you to school, but I expect a homemade breakfast every morning when I get to your house to pick you up as payment.”

For the longest time I believed them.

All of them.

Every.

Single.

Lie.

Because that’s what they were. Lies. Lies that said I either wasn’t enough, or I was too much for everyone else.

Because I believed them, I started to hide things about myself that I thought they wouldn’t approve of. I tried to prove I was worthy of their love, their affection, and their approval.

I worked harder in school to get as many A’s as I could. I surrounded myself with other Christians, pushing away people who weren’t, keeping them on the periphery of my life, losing out on many good friendships in the process. I wanted my parent’s approval and love. I wanted the church’s approval. I wanted boyfriends to accept me. I wanted my husbands’ acceptance, love, and affection.

I did what I thought I should, I behaved how I was told. I stayed quiet about what I thought and what I needed. I went along to get along.

Even after a divorce, even after my mom’s death, even after being estranged from my dad, even after so much counseling, I still believed the lies that I wasn’t enough. I still believed that I had to prove my worth to others. That I had to keep my opinions, thoughts, ideas, to myself if they were in conflict with those of the people I wanted to be accepted by in fear of losing their acceptance.

I trust people will accept me for who I am, until they show me that they don’t. Until they say something or do something that shows me that I’m too much or not enough for them and then I fall into the trap of trying to prove myself to them.

That began to change in 2016 when I started writing my book, Worthless No More. As I wrote that book, I started to realize that I have worth for the simple fact that I am a human being and nobody has the right to treat me as though I am not enough or too much to handle.

I was created in God’s image. I was made to be just as I am. I prefer comfort over fashion and jeans to dresses, that doesn’t make me less of a girl. My curiosity is what makes me smart, I want to know things so I investigate and learn, it does happen to make me a nerd and want to go to museums in new places and I’m proud of that. I want to explore new places. I have experienced much trauma in my life, which has made me sensitive and reactive in certain situations, sometimes reliving past trauma, however none of it makes me unworthy of love or unconditional acceptance by those who claim to love me.

In 2018, about a year after my book was released, the movie, The Greatest Showman, came out. There is a song in the movie sung by Keala Settle, playing the bearded lady, titled, “This is Me.” When I heard that song in the movie for the first time, I cried. Right there in the movie theater, tears streamed down my cheeks because I completely understood the lyrics:

“I am not a stranger to the dark

hide away they say

’cause we don’t want your broken parts

I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars

run away they say

no one’ll love you as you are…”

As the song progresses it becomes obvious that she (and the others) have found their worth and are done hiding away and are proud to be who they are when they sing:

“I’m not scared to be seen

I make no apologies, this is me…”

I’m tired of being cut down and treated as though I’m not enough or too much. I’m tired of being an afterthought. I’m tired of hiding away.

This is me.

I am enough

There’s nothing I’m not worthy of.

Hindsight is 2020

As 2020 comes to an end, I’ve been looking back on the year, specifically the past nine months. These have been extremely difficult for so many people to say the least. As a meme that’s been going around the internet says, “We are not all in the same boat. We are in the same storm. Some have yachts, some canoes, and some are drowning. Just be kind and help whoever you can.”

This year has brought old as well as new struggles with my mental health. There were days that the thought of getting out of bed was too much, the effort it takes to live was too much. The difference this time is that I know that I’m valuable, I have worth and that made the struggle doable, it was like a life preserver.

I learned from a lot of people throughout my young life that I wasn’t valuable, that I was just a waste of space and time. My family let me know, adults and students at my school let me know, the people at my church let know and society let me know; I was worthless.

People didn’t seem to care about my feelings, they just dismissed my fears and anxieties as being over dramatic or just shy or just too much.

My mom used to take us to this park in our town that you had to drive on a levee road to get to. I was terrified that we would go off the road into the water, be trapped in the car and drown. So terrified that I would have nightmares about drowning the night before we would go to the park, waking up in tears. She dismissed it by saying that it would never happen. I learned as an adult, we could have gotten to the park without ever driving on the levy road. This fear of drowning by going off the road into the water got so bad, that I hated going over bridges, my mom continued to tell me that my fear was irrational and that bridges wouldn’t break, and cars wouldn’t go over the edges until the 1989 Loma Prieta Earthquake where the San Francisco Bay Bridge broke and reinforced my fears of falling off levy roads and bridges, being trapped in the water in the car and drowning. It took months of specific therapy to get over just that fear to where now I can drive on levy roads and over bridges with only minimal fear and no panic attacks.

By her dismissing my fears, she reinforced the fact that I was not important, that my feelings were not important.

My dad was rarely home when we were with him, when he was home, he was busy working in the garage or watching television. We weren’t allowed in the garage; we could stand in the door to ask him a question and he made it obvious that we were interrupting his rebuilding of whatever car or motorcycle he was currently working on. If he was watching TV, we had to wait for a commercial to talk to him. Everything else was more important to him than we were.

Whatever I was, I wasn’t enough for my parents.

When I started Kindergarten, two things stood out to me that first week that showed me that the adults didn’t think I was smart enough. First, I went to school knowing how to spell my name; M-I-S-H-E-L-L. An adult helper thought she needed to inform me that I spelled my name wrong. I just remember feeling helpless and lost. I knew how to spell my name, but an adult was telling me I was wrong, so she must be right. Another adult told me that I was wrong when I said that my sister was starting high school. She absolutely was starting high school, she’s nine years older than me. I learned not to let teachers or even students know how smart I was. I needed to go along to get along. To be just smart enough, but not too smart.

Church was another place that I learned the lesson that who I was wasn’t good enough and that I had to keep who I really was hidden to be accepted. My very first Sunday wasn’t like that. I went to Children’s Church and there was a very large, extremely loud, bearded man in the front of the crowded room trying to get the kids to quiet down. I burst into tears because I was separated from my sister. He stopped what he was doing, came over to me, and helped me. He calmed me down and got me and my sister seats together. He paid attention to me, he didn’t dismiss me or belittle me, he helped me.

Then I got involved in the girls’ group at the church. In that group I learned that we are all sinners. One of the first Bible verses I had to memorize was Isaiah 53:6, “We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” Another one was Romans 3:23, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” It was verse after verse about what a sinner I was. What a horrible person I was. How I wasn’t good enough.

Luckily, that loud, Children’s Pastor had a discipleship group, and I was in it. In that group I learned about God’s love for me from verses like John 3:16; “For God so loved the world that he sent his only son, that whoever believes in him shall have eternal life.” And Ephesians 1:4, “For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.”

So, while I may not have been good enough for my family, or my teachers and others at school, or most of the people at church, I was good enough for Pastor Tim and God.

Unfortunately, I never believed I was good enough for any person. I always believed that I had to prove my worth to others, that they wouldn’t accept me for who I was, but then I wrote a book which I titled Worthless No More, and I realized that I am a valuable human being. I don’t need to keep any part of me hidden from others for them to accept me, if they don’t accept me, that’s their problem, not mine.

It hasn’t been easy, especially considering this last election because for some reason Christianity seems to be deeply tied into Republicanism. My Christian friends are where it’s the most difficult because I don’t like Trump. I’ve never liked Trump, since before he was President. I’ve had people question my Christianity because of it. Christians have called me a socialist, libtard because I believe that we should have accessible health care. Christians have called me a sheep because I believe we should wear masks to keep others healthy.

However, looking forward to 2021, I will no longer go along to get along. I will be me. I am valuable for who I am. I am Worthless No More.

Christmas Looks Different This Year

I have a friend who had a small gathering of family to celebrate a milestone birthday, just 9 people representing 5 households. Four days later one of them tested positive for COVID-19. The rest need to get tested now and are in quarantine.

I have a family member whose neighbor had a small gathering to celebrate something, 12 people, I’m not sure how many households were represented. Ten of them tested positive for COVID-19, a few ended up in the hospital, one sadly passed away due to complications from COVID.

This Christmas I’d really like to see my family, but I think I can handle a different Christmas this year if it will help, not just my family, but many families to not have a missing family member at the next birthday or holiday gathering.

Thinking about how different Christmas will be this year, and how different this whole year has been, I wrote this poem:

Christmas Looks Different This Year by Mishell Wolff 2020

January, whispers began in the news eclipsed by death of a basketball icon.

February into March, murmurs rippled as a cruise ship stays at sea, later docked in the bay, passengers in quarantine.

Mid-March became a full-fevered, all-out effort to stop the spread of Coronavirus, “Fifteen days to slow the spread.”

April and May, stay home, wash your hands, social distance, distance learning

Restaurants, take-out only, salons stay closed, hospitals fill, nurses stretched, protests.

End of May 100,000 U.S. COVID deaths, George Floyd, “I can’t breathe!” protests.

June, July, August, protests fill the streets, open business, save the economy, defund police, Black Lives Matter, defend America, antifa, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Rayshard Brooks, too many to name, protests divide, tear gas, flash bangs, photo op in front of a historic church.

September, open schools, teachers are lazy, kids need socialization, they’ll fall behind.

October, small schools manage in person, others COVID spreads and revert back to distance learning, some stayed online, safety first.

November, please stay home, wear a mask, Zoom Thanksgiving, hospitals have no capacity for gathering-driven surge, staff is exhausted.

December, why didn’t we listen, ICUs expand, not enough, over 300,000 U.S. dead from COVID alone.

Many families, many reasons, no option to choose, an empty place this holiday season.

Christmas looks different this year; stay at home, wash your hands, physical distance, wear your mask.

Christmas looks different this year, help others, household only, so next year won’t have to be different.

Christmas looks different this year, the Spirit of Christmas doesn’t have a look, love others, do justly, love mercy, walk humbly.

Holiday Stress on Steroids

Holiday stress is real. COVID stress is real. Add them together and we have holiday stress on steroids.

2020 has been a year like no other that I can remember in my lifetime, I have taught about other extremely tumultuous years, where our nation was divided and a worldwide pandemic was wreaking havoc on our schools, economy and national unity, but I’ve never lived it. I know that there are some people, lucky enough to still be alive who have lived through those times. I’ve read stories of people born during the 1918 Flu Pandemic surviving COVID. That’s incredible, but for the vast majority of us, this is a new and stressful experience.

People answering surveys about their mental health have indicated that they have experienced more thoughts of anxiety, depression and self-harm since March when the COVID became big news in the United States, and those statistics usually rise between Thanksgiving and New Year’s as holiday stress takes it’s toll. Add in this year the 288,017 American families and the 1,538,317 families around the world (according to Worldometers.com on December 6, 2020) who have lost a loved one this year to COVID, that’s not including the countless other families missing a loved one due to other causes of death such as heart disease, cancer, accidents, suicide and the various other reasons that people die each year. The holidays will be different for millions of people this year.

I’m not a psychologist, psychiatrist, counselor or therapist, I’m just a regular person who suffers with anxiety and depression who gets stressed out A LOT!!! There are days that just getting out of bed and starting the day seems overwhelming and buying gifts and “Doing Christmas” is extremely daunting.

What keeps me getting up each day is my kids. Knowing that they also have anxiety and possibly depression, I want to show them that it’s possible to talk about those and survive and function and do all the things that people do, even if it’s exhausting, even if it takes all your energy.

Here are some of the things I do that help me to manage the stress. Who knows, some of them might help you too, you’ll never know unless you try.

Journal-it helps me to get the thoughts that are racing around in my brain out.
Exercise-sometimes it’s stretching, sometimes it’s taking the dog for a walk, sometimes it’s cardio videos I find on YouTube, I just need to move.
Find someone to talk to- This can be a friend that you trust or a counselor. I talk to a few trusted friends and a counselor.
Read a book-books can take you away for awhile to a different place.
Make a plan- Plan how you can conquer what you need to do, it doesn’t need to all be done at once, a little bit each day works just as well.
Deep breathing exercises- There are a ton of videos on YouTube and apps that help with this.
Guided relaxation- Again, there are tons of videos and apps that help with this.
Focus on taking care of you- if you aren’t healthy you can’t take care of anybody else.
Start a gratitude list- try to find a few things each day to be thankful for. It helps to take the focus off of all the negative, this is hard to do, sometimes it takes me a long time just to come up with 5 positive things everyday, but I can list 5 negative things in 10 seconds. But this has been a tremendous help in lessening my stress levels in the past few month.

I don’t always remember to do these things, and they may not help you. The point is we all need to try to do what we can to not allow the stress to overwhelm us, especially if we also have mental health issues to deal with on top of the stress.

This holiday season be well, have fun, and be safe!

Thankful in the Turmoil?

https://speakzeasy.wordpress.com/tag/emotional-turmoil/

I haven’t written much recently, but with what I have written, you know that I am broken, depressed, anxious, and generally not in a good place.

To help combat that I have been seeing a licensed therapist to gain insights and strategies to help navigate this cruel, cold, divided world we live in that is being ravaged by a disease that’s wreaking havoc on people’s physical and mental health.

I also just finished teaching a unit on stress and how to better manage stress in our lives. Between the two, therapy and teaching, one strategy stood out, being thankful, or showing gratitude.

I’m not talking about toxic positivity, the idea that if you think positive thoughts all the bad stuff will go away and you’ll feel all better, depression will magically disappear and your thoughts will suddenly slow down.

I’m talking about taking a few minutes each day in the midst of the turmoil and chaos that is life at the moment (because it is a moment, no matter how long it lasts, it will pass) and seeing the good things that are still there. We may have to squint our eyes and look really hard, maybe even pull out a magnifying glass or a microscope, but they’re there; those positive things that give us hope in humanity, that make life worth living, that make it that much easier to get out of bed the next day.

When my therapist first suggested the idea to write down five things each day I thought it was a dumb idea. I didn’t see how it could help, I knew it wasn’t going to make everything magically get better, but I did it anyway. For about three weeks now, I have been faithfully making a daily list of five things I’m thankful for.

I was right, the world hasn’t changed, my life is still in turmoil, I still feel broken, but it has made it a little easier to get out of bed each day. It has given me a challenge to look forward to as I try to find a few good things everyday, and I love a challenge.

Here are some of the things I’m thankful for (in no particular order)

My kids because they made me a mom and showed me what it is to love someone so much that you can’t imagine life without them and how bad it hurts to see them hurting, and how amazing feels to see them happy and successful and being who they want to be.
My job because it allows me to be immersed in my favorite subject and to be with my friends on a daily basis (pre-COVID; now it’s more on a weekly basis) and my co-workers are some of my best friends.
My friends because they are there when I need people to talk to, to have fun with, etc.
Food, because I love food, especially homemade food that I get to feed to my family at dinnertime all together talking about our day.
My family, the ones that are by blood and the married in ones, because we are there for each other no matter what and help each other out.
My students because I know that distance learning isn’t easy for most of them, but they show up on their computers every day and listen to me, then they go off and do the assignments I give them. They tell me things about their lives and struggles with school in emails, they ask for help, they’re doing their absolute best in this weird new world we live in and it gives me hope for the future that we have such a resilient group of young people who will go out into the world in a few years.
Jesus because without him in my life, I wouldn’t have any peace.

This idea of giving thanks in the turmoil is actually biblical. In 1 Thessalonians 5:18 it says to “give thanks in all circumstances: for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” Sometimes I think people mistake this to mean that Christians have to be thankful for our circumstances, but that’s not what the verse is saying at all, it says IN all circumstances.

That means, looking for the little things that make the living in those circumstances just a little bit easier. Seeing the things that make getting out of bed worth it every day.

Some days I do have to pull out a magnifying glass to find what I’m thankful for, but I still find at least five things every day to be thankful for, it hasn’t changed the chaos in the world, the division in the nation or the turmoil I feel in my life, but it has made getting out of bed each day easier.

Mental Health and COVID-19

I have been very open about my mental health struggles for years, hoping that in doing so, others who struggle would know that they are not alone and find the strength within to reach out for help. I started this blog to help end the stigma surrounding mental health issues. I talk to my classes about mental health. I teach them stress reduction strategies, we talk about suicide prevention, we learn about various mental illnesses, all in my attempt to make the world a friendlier place for those who struggle with a mental illness.

The worldwide COVID pandemic has finally caused people to talk about mental health. I hear all the time that schools need to open for kids’ mental health. Businesses need to open and get people back to work for their mental health. Depression and anxiety are on the rise because of the economic recession caused by the COVID shutdowns.

A common headline these days; this one from the Washington Post.

I don’t really think that COVID has caused the increase in depression and anxiety though.

Some of you might be getting upset with me right about now, but let me explain.

I’m not saying that more people aren’t reaching out to therapists for help because they are.

I’m not saying people aren’t self identifying that they are having difficulties dealing with the new normal that the pandemic has thrown at us with physical distancing, reduced workhours, being laid off or working from home, kids doing school from home and all the rest of the changes that have been forced upon us from this global health pandemic, because they are.

This is a terrible situation that we find ourselves in and many of us are not handling it well, especially those extroverts who want to be with other people and huggers who need to hug people. I feel for them, I really do.

But I don’t think that the COVID-19 pandemic caused the current rise in mental health issues that we are seeing.

What if the cause is the constant busy-ness we found ourselves in so that by the time we went to bed at night we were so exhausted we collapsed and immediately fell asleep and we never found ourselves with enough quiet time to contemplate the complexities of life?

What if the cause is that we never learned to deal with disappointment because somebody always swooped in to make sure that we got what we wanted when we wanted it?

What if the cause is that we don’t know how to communicate with our family members so this extended time together is a struggle; as we are daily around each other, always physically together but emotionally alone?

What if the cause is that our children are so used to others taking care of them, teaching them and making the boundaries for them and their parents only providing the fun that nobody in the situation (parents included) know how to change it up now?

What if the cause is that we are so ingrained to believe that our job or career is our identity and to lose our job means we have lost who who are?

What if we were never taught healthy, productive ways to handle stress when it comes our way (because this whole situation is definitely added stress)?

What if we were taught that the best way to deal with things is to “suck it up, Buttercup.” or “Stop being a sissy la-la.” or “I’ll give you something to cry about.”?

I think that the COVID pandemic that has hit the world is not the CAUSE of the mental health crisis we are now seeing, I believe its placing the spotlight on a mental health crisis that has been in the making for number of decades.

It’s made it so that it’s finally its okay to seek out help. It’s finally okay to talk about our mental health issues.

If you need help, as I have, during this stressful time in our lives here are some resources:

These two are from the Anxiety and Depression Association of America and offer helpful tips for navigating stress in the time of COVID.

https://adaa.org/learn-from-us/from-the-experts/blog-posts/consumer/top-ten-covid-19-anxiety-reduction-strategies

https://adaa.org/finding-help/coronavirus-anxiety-helpful-resources

Here’s a place if you’d like online therapy

https://www.betterhelp.com/

Here’s a place for physical and mental health online:

PlushCare | Sleep with Me

The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

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1-800-273-8255

There are lots of ways to get help, you can also start by talking to your general care physician, looking up a therapist in your area on psychologytoday.com or just using Google.

If you need help, please get help. I’m not trying to downplay the fact that mental health issues are on the rise, I just don’t believe that COVID is the cause, I think it’s the spotlight on an issue that has been decades in the making.

Proyecto universitario de estudio y conservacion de tortugas marinas. Trabajo de campo en la Peninsula de Guanahacabibes, Pinar del Rio, 7 al 19 de agosto de 2007. Foto©Rene Perez Massola

Migraine Day: Sense Don’t Words Make The When

According to NortonHealthcare.com, approximately 39 million Americans suffer migraine attacks each year. I am one of those lucky people.

Some people don’t seem to understand just how debilitating a migraine can be and seem to think that a migraine is just a “bad headache.” A migraine is so much more than just a headache though.

A migraine wreaks havoc on many parts of your body. It can mess with your balance, your cognition, your vision, your gastrointestinal tract, your sense of smell, your sense of touch and taste and so much more.

For some people who suffer from migraines, they can be knocked down from a few hours to a few days. Many migraine sufferers have learned ways to cope with them in order to get on with life because they happen so frequently that if they don’t they may end up losing their job.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a migraine hit me during work, luckily I was working from home, but I still had students depending on me on the other side of the computer screen. When I started to feel better, later that evening I wrote a poem about it and want to share it here with all of you.

Wake up, systems check.

Nose is clear, I can breathe.

Stretch, just the usual cracks.

I can move, not too stiff.

Roll out of bed, start the day.

Morning routine, exercise.

Breakfast, brush the teeth.

Daily dose of migraine preventative.

That should do it, fingers crossed.

Need a good day, need to teach.

Pinprick of pain, behind left eye.

Could it be, a migraine coming?

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

Swallow the meds, for onset of pain.

Gulp some caffeine, help it to veins.

Walk ten steps, work from home.

COVID era, has some perks.

Set up Zoom, students show in tiny boxes.

Pain is gone, but words don’t work.

“Student’s hello, To Welcome Wednesday!”

Funny looks, smiling faces, in little squares.

One asks, “Are you okay?”

I laugh, “I’m fine, just tired today.”

Can’t let them know how bad it is.

It’ll get better, it always does.

Classes Zoom, Periods 1, 2, 3.

Lunch and prep pass by, I’m busy.

Time for class, Zoom again.

Ice pick stabbing my left eye.

Wave of nausea, washes over me.

Students, swim on the screen.

Tiny boxes, all blurry.

“Yesterday, work to do.

Here. Questions. Let me know.

Tomorrow. I’ll see.” Waves goodbye.

More meds, dizzy, walls in my way.

Couch close by, alarm set for the end of class.

Sleep release, gone too quick.

Back to work, at my desk.

One more class to suffer through.

School is over, for today.

Sun too bright, turn it off.

Dog too loud, make it stop.

Clothes hurt my skin, take them off.

Climb in bed, maybe tomorrow…

Us vs. Them is Tearing Me Apart

Last weekend I finally told my husband what I’ve been afraid to tell anybody, but since it’s Suicide Prevention Month, I decided to be honest.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

I’m actually feeling much better now, that I put it out there to another human being and not just keeping it in my head and it was much worse back in July when I wrote the blog titled, “Broken Nation, Broken Me.” Back then it was so bad that I thought everyday what life would be like for those I left behind, now it’s maybe once every couple of weeks.

I don’t have a plan, I’m actually scared of the thought of going through with it, and I would never willingly leave my children without a mother, but somedays it is extremely difficult to get out of bed and do all the things required of living.

Now, with that out of the way, let me explain why.

I’m hypersensitive. Many people don’t know that about me because I learned at a young age that showing emotion caused me to be called weak. If I cried over something my dad would ask, “Do you want me to give you something to cry about?” usually reaching for the stick he used to beat us with. The “stick” was a piece of wooden baseboard about 3 feet long that he kept on top of the refrigerator. I learned rather quickly to not show when I was upset by something and just bury my emotions.

That was probably the beginning of my anxiety and depression issues, but that’s not what this post is about.

Every four years our nation goes through a presidential election cycle and of course people choose sides. I was raised by my mom in an uber-conservative Christian church, part of the “Moral Majority” led by the likes of Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson, and Jim Baker. While my mom was a registered Democrat because of John F. Kennedy, she completely agreed with everything the Moral Majority preached and pretty much always voted Republican as far as I knew. She and my Grandma loved Ronald Reagan and everything he stood for and voted for George Bush when he ran because he would follow in Reagan’s footsteps.

I say all that to say that I was raised in a religion that attempted to teach me that if I was a true Christian I would always vote Republican because they were the party that supported life. The Democrats were the evil ones who supported killing babies. I was even taught that some Christians weren’t Christian enough if they were Democrats, because Democrats were so evil.

So every four years, I see our nation divided between those who vote Republican and those who vote Democrat, however this year seems to be the absolute worst!

If someone criticizes anything that the Republicans or Trump has said or done they are automatically labelled a “libtard,” a “sheep,” a “bleeding heart liberal” or many other not so nice names. If a person criticizes Biden or the Democrats they are “haters,” “Trumpkins, ” or “racists.”

In my lifetime, I have never seen our country so divided. I teach history, so I know that it has been this divided in the past, I mean we had a Civil War, talk about division! However, I wasn’t alive for that, so it didn’t affect my mental health.

The election isn’t the only thing people are divided on. People are divided on race issues, whether or not there is systemic racism in this country (there is).

Whether or not we should wear masks.

Whether or not hair and nail salons should be open as well as other businesses.

Whether or not COVID-19 is real.

Whether or not schools should open and if teachers are actually working when they do virtual school. (This one really hurts me mentally and emotionally because I am working my behind off to be there for my students and teach them and answer their questions any time of the night or day. I mean, I am getting emails from them at midnight and one o’clock in the morning sometimes.)

All this division is wreaking havoc on my mental health as well as on our nation.

On June 16, 1858, Abraham Lincoln quoted Matthew 12:25 in his “House Divided” speech when he said that, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Matthew 12:25 actually says that, “Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation and every city or house divided against itself will not stand.” New King James Version.

This amazing, great nation that we call the United States of America is not very united right now. It is extraordinarily divided right now.

This division is breaking me. I speak about something and I’m attacked by one side or the other. Just seeing the division is disheartening and making me not want to be a part of this life.

When I have spoken how disheartening this is for me, I hear amazing platitudes like, “God is in control.” or “Give it to God.” or, “It’s just the devil trying to get you down, you need to rebuke him.”

I’m tired of Christian platitudes.

I want to see Christians begin to live by the example that Jesus taught. To love your neighbor as yourself. When they asked who was our neighbor, Jesus told the story of the good Samaritan where a priest saw a person who needed help and he walked by on the other side of the road, then a Levite saw the man and he also walked by on the other side of the road. When the Samaritan saw the man who needed help (Samaritans were looked down on by Jews in that time) he helped the man, took him to an inn and paid to have the innkeeper look after him. (Paraphrased from Luke 10:25-37)

Instead of Us vs. Them how about we begin to look at it as we. We need to get along. We need to survive this life. We need to help each other. We need to understand and support one another. We don’t always have to agree with everyone in order to love them.

Love is a choice and it seems the United States of America have become the Divided States of Hate and my mental health is deteriorating in this nation as well as the mental health of many of my fellow Americans.

Instead of demonizing “them,” maybe we can begin to work to understand where they are coming from.

Instead of demonizing “them,” maybe we can listen to what they have to say instead of what “Us” says “they” want, believe, are going to do etc.

I find myself retreating further and further into my shell to get away from the division in this country, in this state and in my city. There are still days I don’t want this life.

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