Category: why

Mental Health Heroes

May is Mental Health Awareness Month and this May it might be more important than ever as more and more people are dealing with anxiety and depression as we face the unknown of this worldwide pandemic that is killing hundreds of thousands, forever changing the lives of hundreds of thousands of others who are recovering from the illness and may have a lifetime of kidney, heart, or lung damage and then there are millions who have lost loved ones, jobs or are being forced to work in jobs where they aren’t adequately protected from contracting the virus for various reasons.

To be honest, this hasn’t been an easy time for me, not the worst that I’ve struggled with, but definitely not easy.

Anxiety is always there, telling me that I’m not good enough. Telling me that I don’t have enough food, toilet paper, money. That I won’t be able to keep paying all the bills in the future. That we both might be working now, but that could change at any moment.

I try to stay focused on the present. I’m thankful that we are both still working, for now. I know that when the economy is bad, my husband can get laid off so we are planning ahead for that, saving money, which is a lot easier, when there is nowhere to go. Staying mostly focused on the present is a huge tool for me to keep my anxiety from spiraling out of control with all the “what if” scenarios.

I want to take today to thank some of my Mental Health Heroes.

My counselors: I’ve had quite a few, beginning in high school with my school counselor who listened to my personal problems as well as helped with my school schedule to the many private counselors I’ve had. Each one of them has helped me find strategies to cope with the anxiety and depression that I deal with in my life. Some strategies work better in certain situations and at certain times, but I’m thankful for everything they taught me.

Carrie Fisher: This one might seem strange, especially since I didn’t really know her, but Princess Leia, the General of the Rebel Alliance, was a strong female leader when most leaders in movies are men. She also was not quiet about her own struggles with mental health issues. The more that people speak up the more it helps to end the stigma surrounding mental health. I admire her for that and it bolstered my strength to talk about my own mental health issues.

Daisy Rain Martin: She doesn’t necessarily advocate for mental health issues, but she does advocate for victims and in doing so she helps their mental health. I know that my finding her was a God-send and reading her story gave me the courage to find my voice and tell my story so that others can find the courage to tell their story.

Holly Chamberlain: Who I haven’t met in person, but is a constant reminder that I matter.

My Siblings: We each have our own issues, but we have each other to talk to and help each other out. I don’t know if I would have survived my childhood without them, and I can’t imagine my adulthood without them in it. We may not see each other as much as we’d like since we live in different states, but we are close in heart and when we do talk, its as though no time has passed.

My Children: I know that I need to take care of my mental health so that I can be the absolute best mom I can be to them. Sometimes they can trigger my mental health issues, but that’s when my counselors come back in. I love my kids and will do whatever it takes to be as mentally healthy as I possibly can for them. I will also teach them that there is nothing bad about acknowledging that we need to take care of our mental health just as much as our physical health.

My Husband: When I met my husband, I was coming out of one of the darkest times of my life. He had no idea what he was getting into. He has been devoted and caring to me for the past 19 years and helps me when he can help me and encourages me to seek professional help (my counselors) when he knows that I need help beyond what he can provide. He is supportive in everything related to my mental health issues, even when he doesn’t completely understand it all. I know that without him, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

My Friends: I have a whole bunch of friends who may or may not know that they are a part of my mental health team. I learned a long time ago that I can’t do this alone. I need other people to be in my life to support me along the way. That’s where all of you come in. You’re there for me when I need someone to hang out with, or talk to, or just to spy on, on Facebook or Twitter. Thank you all for being a part of my life.

I just wanted to let you all know that I have Mental Health Heroes during this month when we work towards Mental Health Awareness. Let’s all work together to #endthestigma.

A Switch Has Flipped

I’ve been feeling extremely good for a long time. I’ve had a few anxious moments, but no bouts of anxiety lasting for weeks,or worse, months. It’s been nice, like a little vacation for my brain.

A few weeks ago, however, I had an anxiety attack at school during my prep period. My students left the classroom and a feeling of impending doom came over me.My heart began to race, my breaths were quick and shallow. It seemed to hit me out of nowhere. I wasn’t particularly stressed or worried about anything. Luckily, I knew exactly what it was and practiced some techniques to get it under control and the whole episode lasted maybe two minutes from start to finish. I gathered up the stuff I needed and got to work, feeling back to normal.

The whole incident slipped my mind until a few days later, when I needed to make dinner for my family. I like to cook,i enjoy creating something from the ingredients I have. It’s usually relaxing to me and something I look forward to. That day, I didn’t want to cook. It wasn’t that there wasn’t much time so we were going to make sandwiches, even those can be a fun creation. I. DIDN’T. WANT. TO. MAKE. DINNER.

A few days after that was the weekend. I hadn’t written a blog in a while and I told myself that I needed to write one, but I didn’t want to write. Me, Mishell Wolff, who has enjoyed writing since I was seven years old. I DIDN’T WANT TO WRITE!

This past week, I was driving my daughter to soccer practice, dreading the drive, dreading being there, dreading seeing people. For reference, I have an amazingly fun car to drive and most of the drive to her practice is through the country where I get to legally drive fairly fast. It’s fun. Usually. And I usually don’t mind seeing and talking to the coach and the other parents, most of us are friends at this point. I also enjoy watching her practice or sitting in the shade or in my car reading or playing on my phone. But last week, I didn’t want to do any of it. I almost cried as I drove her there.

I feel like somebody came in and flipped my light switch off. I feel like I’m sitting in the dark. I feel like the brain vacation is over, but instead of anxiety coming for a visit this time, it’s depression; anxiety’s darker twin.

Some of the signs of depression are a feeling of sadness and despair and a loss of interest in activities that you once enjoyed. I’ve definitely been experiencing those for the past few weeks.

Lucky for me , I guess, is that I know the signs of depression and I can tell when they are sneaking into my brain. I know the light switch will eventually get flipped back on.

But I hat how I’m feeling now!

I didn’t even want to write today. In fact I wrote this blog early this morning and something went wrong with my WordPress app and it deleted everything I wrote, so this is the second time today that I have sat down to write this. I know though, that if I want to get the switch flipped back on, I have to do the things I like to do, even if for now I don’t enjoy doing them.

I know I can’t give in to the darkness and sadness I feel.

I know I’m not alone.

If you or someone you know is experiencing depression, anxiety or any other mental health issue they can text the crisis line at 741741.

Or call the suicide prevention line at 1-800-273-8255

Holiday Hope

I have overheard people talking baout how they don’t like Christmas because of a bad childhood. I grew up in a dysfunctional family. My mom and dad separated when I was almost 7 years old and my siblings and I spent the next several years living mostly with my mom, but sometimes with my dad, but we always spent Christmas with my mom and her family.

Even though they were separated and we spent Christmas day with my mom, our Christmas tradition included both of them.

Even though my parents fought, a lot. Even though they cut me down and made me feel insignificant, a lot. Even though most of the year was filled with anger and tension, Christmas time seemed magical.

One afternoon in December, when we got home from school, my dad would decide it was Christmas tree day. We’d load into what we referred to as the “banana truck”, a yellow, Volkswagen, flatbed truck, and drive to a Christmas tree farm. We’d see a tree and if it looked good, one of us kids stood there to guard it until we decided that was the one and we cut it down, or cut down a better one. He always let the three of us take a turn with the saw too, so we each had a part in bringing home the Christmas tree. Once we had the perfect tree for that year, he’d throw it onto the back of the truck, drive us to our mom’s and set it up for us. Sometimes he’d stay while we decorated and they’d get along for the evening. The magical part, they’d get along.

Then one year, when I was in middle school, we lived with my dad, and my mom rented a room from a friend. Even though it wasn’t my mom’s own house, we were going there for Christmas and there was already a tree. The problem, for me anyway, was that we weren’t going to be in a house with Christmas spirit, leading up to Christmas. My dad wasn’t going to get a tree if we weren’t going to be there for Christmas.

That year, my siblings and I took matters into our own hands.

My sister and I went hunting for the box of Christmas decorations, while my brother raided the wood pile. He found the perfect pieces of wood to fashion together in a Christmas tree shape, it wasn’t huge, maybe 2 feet tall, but it’d work.

Then, the three of is found my dad’s supply of green butcher paper. We cut off enough to wrap around our wooden Christmas tree frame, laid it out on the floor and decorated it. We drew on ornaments and Christmas lights in bright colors. Once the paper was Christmas-y enough, we wrapped it around our frame.

We took the Christmas lights and strung them up around the room, we didn’t want to put them in our paper tree, because it was the eighties and those big, old Christmas lights got hot and we didn’t want to burn our paper tree. We even hung lights in our bedrooms.

It was perfect.

Looking back, it’s still my favorite childhood Christmas memory. My siblings and I took a bad situation and filled it with hope and love. I spent many evenings that December sitting in front of our homemade, artificial tree, with nothing but the Christmas lights to illuminate the room, dreaming of a magical life and feeling peace in the hope that I could make Christmas magical on my own.

Right now, this world we live in is dysfunctional. People are fighting, a lot. People are cutting others down and making them feel insignificant, a lot. People are filled with anger and tension, alot. We can have a magical Christmas season.

We can choose to dwell on the negative and talk about how horrible things are. We can choose to keep the divisions between us and them.

Or…

We can choose to do something else.

We can choose to work together to make the world a better place, just like my siblings and I made our house a better place.

We can choose to see hope in the holidays.

We can choose to stop fighting and start talking.

We can choose to stop cutting others down and making them feel insignificant and start building others up and letting them know how important they are.

We can choose to let the anger go and find constructive ways to release the tension, like giving to others and loving them.

Each person in this world can choose to make it a better place.

My holiday hope is that everyone chooses love and peace.

Where Did The Time Go?

Children look forward to summer break all year long. I’ll let you in on a secret, most teachers look forward to it as well.

If you read my post “Hello Summer, My Old Friend” , ” you know that summer has been a difficult time for my anxiety in the past, I haven’t been looking forward to summer break for the past few years because of it.

This year I had a plan. I was going to get through the summer without a major episode of anxiety or depression and with one week left, I have been successful.

I’ve kept myself busy with my family and running my kids to all their activities. I’ve practiced relaxation breathing techniques as well as yoga stretches to start each day. I’ve focused on God and his role in my life. I’ve limited my time on social media and seen a purse and worked on my next book.

Most of the time I try to stay out of my own mind. I’ve learned that if I spend too much time in my mind, it begins to lie to me and drag me into it’s depths. Social media adds to those lies my mind tells me, so I limit it.

I’m thankful that I’ve made it through this summer. I go back to school in a week and my kids go back in two weeks. I know the school year will bring it’s own challenges as we adjust to another diagnosis for my son, autism, as well as homework demands, learning new routines and meeting new people.

This summer seems to have flown by, where has the time gone? I’m thankful I survived it and know that will give me strength to survive the school year.

How to Stop Sexual Harassment

This week a former student of mine shared her #metoo story on Facebook and Yelp. Thank you Erica Yamane for your bravery in calling out those people and sharing what happened to you in your workplace.

This incident happened to her in a popular industry in our area, wine. I actually had the amazing privilege (read “agonizing horror”) of serving on a jury for a workplace sexual harrassment case for two months a few years ago.

Sexual harrassment happens in the workplace, schools, streets, shopping centers everywhere, and it never should, so I have come up with a few steps to finally stop sexual harrassment.

1. If you are married or have a significant other, only talk about sex with that person.

2. If you are “flirting” with someone and they don’t reciprocate, stop flirting with them.

3. If you say something to someone and they ask you to stop, then stop.

4. If you touch someone and they ask you not to, then stop.

5. If you talk to or touch someone and they look uncomfortable or disgusted with you, then stop.

6. If it’s not something you would talk about with your grandma, then don’t talk about it.

While not comprehensive, I hope this list gives a little help in putting a stop to sexual harrassment.

Everything I’ve read on how to stop sexual harrassment is speaking to the victim. In reality the only way to end sexual harrassment, is for the perpetrators to stop what they’re doing.

One last step…

7. If you need to stop and ask yourself, “can this be seen as sexual harrassment?” keep it to yourself.

Hopelessness and Suicide

If you experience suicidal thoughts or have lost someone to suicide, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741741.

Two people from popular culture died this week by suicide; Kate Spade on Tuesday and Anthony Bourdain on Friday.

On Thursday, the CDC published a report about the rise on death by suicide in the United States between 1999 and 2016. According to their statistics, suicide rates have increased by 25% nationwide and up to 57% in a few individual states, such as North Dakota. According to the data the CDC receives from various reporting agencies, 2016 saw nearly 45,000 deaths by suicide in the United States, which is approximately 105 people in America who die by suicide everyday.

We heard about two of them this week, but in reality, according to those numbers, this week in America, 735 people have died by suicide. That’s the equivalent of an entire junior high school in my town being wiped out.

That’s a lot of hurting people whose lives mattered, who left even more hurting people behind.

According to the lead scientist of the CDC study, 54% of those people who died by suicide did not have a diagnosed mental illness.

That doesn’t mean they weren’t suffering from a mental illness, it just means that for some reason, they had not sought medical help for what was troubling them.

But that statistic caused me to ask a question, “If they aren’t doing it because of mental health issues, why are people choosing to die?”

I scoured the internet searching for answers. Some of the other reasons for suicide, besides clinical depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and other  mental health issues(diagnosed or not) include:

Situational depression: this happens when a person has experienced a negative impact in their life, but hasn’t quit met the criteria of clinical depression.

Divorce, separation or end of a relationship.

Loss of a child: either through death or custody battle.

 Death of a loved one.

Financial loss.

Terminal illness diagnosis.

Fear of being “found out”: a person may have made decisions that will cause somebody close to them to lose respect for them or refuse to love them anymore.

Fear of consequences for their actions.

The list can go on and on. Some of the sites I got information from are:  http://www.suicide.org/suicide-causes.html,  https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/suicide/statistics/index.html,  https://www.healthline.com/health/suicide-and-suicidal-behavior, and  https://psychcentral.com/encyclopedia/suicidal-ideation/

The common thread in all the reasons for suicide is feelings of hopelessness.

Feeling as though the situation you are in will never get better.

Experiencing pain so intense that you’re sure it will never go away.

Expecting those you love to be angry with you, lose respect for you or stop loving you because of choices you’ve made.

Hopeless is a terrifying place to live.

It tells you that you’re alone and nobody will understand you.

It tells you that the world and those you love will be better off without you.

It tells you that death is the only solution to end the pain you’re in.

It tells you that you’re helping your loved ones by ending their suffering too. They may be devastated now, but you’re saving them years of heartache of having to live with you.

Hopelessness is a liar, one that clouds your mind and judgement so that you believe the lies it tells you are the truth.

This week we heard about two people who died by suicide, don’t forget the 733 others. Be there for people, listen to them and guide them towards the help they need.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741741.

 

Maybe I can’t…

I quit taking my anti-anxiety medication about 3 weeks ago, tapering off, just like my doctor recommended. I remember a post I wrote about how good I felt when that medicine kicked in and I could finally relax and breath and felt generally at ease. I still had periods of anxiety, but they lasted weeks instead of months, like they usually do when I’m not on medication.

I’ve started exercising, not a ton, I don’t want to overdo it, but it’s been gradually increasing. I’ve begun to eat more real food and less chemicals, which is definitely not an easy task.  In other words, I have been learning natural, healthy ways to fight my anxiety.

At the same time I have been doing all of that, my medicine was causing me to feel exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep, not as bad as my last medicine eventually made me feel, but my bed was my best friend. I would usually not mind that, my favorite pastime has long been taking naps, but I like to feel in control of whether I nap or clean the house or hang out with my kids or a variety of things that I find joy in, but I was to the point where sleeping was all I wanted to do.

Now, how do I feel? The restless nights have already begun. My brain doesn’t want to turn off at night. Remember that thing I said to you ten years ago? I don’t remember, until three a.m., when my brain dwells on what I could have said instead and if  I hurt your feelings or if you’re mad at me for it. It royally sucks!

I told my dear husband a few days ago that I can handle the extra energy I have when I’m off the medicine. I can even handle most of the thought spirals. I can handle anxiety most of the time with positive self-talk, exercise and healthy eating.

What I can’t handle… Why maybe I can’t do this.. (without medication) is my family and my job.

When I’m on meds,

  • every little thing doesn’t have to be perfect and I don’t dwell on them if they aren’t
  • if someone doesn’t do what I ask, no big deal, natural consequences will catch up to them sooner or later.
  • if you tick me off, I’ll let you know and I’ll get over it.

When I’m not on my meds, its like everything is magnified.

  • There’s a piece of paper on the floor, what kind of disrespectful person leaves a mess for others to clean up?
  • I asked you to do your chores and you didn’t do it the first time I asked, do you even love or respect me?
  • You ticked me off, I will yell at you until you’re tired of hearing my voice and then I’ll yell some more.

I need to be able to do this without hurting my kids, husband or students. I need to be able to do this without hurting myself.

I don’t want to sleep all the time anymore!

I don’t know though, maybe I can’t do this without medication.

Love After Abuse

In high school I was raped by my boyfriend. When I finally had the nerve to dump him, I easily trusted another boy with my heart. We broke up because of my mom and I began to date a young man from my church. He wanted to be a youth pastor.

He was a charmer. Everybody loved and trusted him. He was hired as a youth pastor and an administrator at a Christian school. He was the “perfect” man. He had charisma, he was a great speaker, he knew how to talk to people and make them feel comfortable in any situation. If someone was upset, he knew how to make them feel better. He was trusted with kids by church staff, school staff and parents.

I saw some of who he really was, beneath the facade, but only some. He ended up being much worse than even I was aware of. He was hiding a monster beneath his smooth exterior.

He started out building me up, telling me how pretty and smart I was and what a strong Christian I was. He used 1 Corinthians 13, the “Love Chapter” in the Bible, to explain his love for me. I had a broken heart and he seemed capable of putting it back together. I gave it to him. I trusted him.

We dated for a long time and over that time he began to change towards me. He was the same with everyone else, so I thought it was me that caused the change.

I thought it was my fault that he started to make comments about how I looked.

I thought it was my fault that he reprimanded me about the way I talked with my friends or at work.

I thought it was my fault that he didn’t like my friends or want me to hang out with them.

Instead of seeing his mistreatment of me as his problem, I believed it was mine. I believed that if I could just act right, talk right, work right, be right, he would go back to treating me right.

Then he asked me to marry him. If we were married, he’d have to treat me right, right?

So wrong. Things got worse. He didn’t support me getting a college degree. He told me he regretted marrying me. By the end of the marriage we were no more than roommates who never spoke to each other.

He got arrested for the double life he was leading. Everyone who knew him, including me, were absolutely shocked. I knew he was not who he pretended to be, but not just how evil and twisted he truly was.

I was devastated. I swore I’d never love again. How could I ever trust anyone again? How could I trust myself to pick a good guy? Two of the three loves of my young life abused me, that’s not a great track record for my choice in boys.

I learned a lot about love in the midst of my devastation. I learned that the two boys who abused me, one sexually and the other emotionally, didn’t love me. They loved the idea of me and what I provided for them. I was an object to them to be used as they desired.

I learned that I badly wanted  to be loved that I dealt with the abuse.

I learned that I needed to stop looking for somebody else to love me and love myself.

I learned that I was valuable and worth being loved by others.

I learned that I was lovable.

I learned that I didn’t need anybody else to love me in order to survive, I only needed to love myself.

In learning to live myself, I also learned to trust myself.

I learned to take care of myself.

I learned what I enjoyed and what I wanted in life.

I met a man. He looked just like Owen Wilson. He was nice. He was quiet.

It took him a month to ask me out in a date.

I was cautious. I talked to my trusted friends and counselor about him. About love after abuse.

I fell in love with him, but I moved to San Diego. I wasn’t going to let a man keep me from my plans, my dreams like I had in the past.

Four and half months after our first date he asked me to marry him. I said yes. I transferred to a college closer to home to be near him, but I kept pursuing my dream. He supported and encouraged my dream.

We’ve been married for seventeen years now and have two kids. It’s not always easy, marriage is hard work, but I love him and he loves me.

In 1999, I never thought I’d live again, but I’ve spent the past seventeen years loving and being loved right back.

Love after abuse is possible.

Faith After Abuse

I was one of those kids who always believed there was a God. As young as 6 years old, I remember drawing pictures of what I believed Heaven to look like. I had never read a Bible or been to church that I can remember, but somehow, God was real to me.

Eventually, my mom took me to church so I’d stop bugging her about it. We ended up in a church that I lived with an amazing children’s pastor and staff who were able to make unlovable, imperfect me feel loved.

Then he moved and we found a different church. I was sexually abused by a children’s leader in that church, so I went back to my old church.

In the 3 years or so that I had been gone, that church changed.

Instead of being a place where God loved me for me and Jesus died to forgive my sins along with everyone else’s, it was a place where you had to dress right and speak right in order for God to love you.

You had to stop and think “What Would Jesus Do?” Before making any decision. (We even had keychains, necklaces and shirts emblazoned with WWJD to remind us.

At that church, I was unclean and unworthy because I had sex before I was married. I needed to be extra good so Good could love me.

The pastors, leaders and “good” Christian’s were perfect and could pick out those that God could love and those He wouldn’t love.

Luckily, I was friends with a couple that truly knew God’s love. They knew that God loves us as we are, but loves us too much to leave us that way.

When the person I was married to at that time was arrested for a detestable crime against children, the pastor asked me not to return to church. It was the ultimate betrayal at a time when I needed support.

My friends supported me, my church did not.

During this period in my life I learned so much about God and His love for people.

Even though I was abused and betrayed by church leaders, I wouldn’t walk away from the Lord.

I maintained my faith through the dark times and eventually the fog lifted and the sun shined through.

Mr. Rogers said…

This week’s blog is late because I have had a difficult time comprehending the horror that happened this past week at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.

I am a teacher and I got scared. My students were scared. My own children were scared. We all have questions about our own safety at a place where we spend a good portion of our daily lives.

How can we prevent this from happening at our school? At all schools?

What do we do if/when it happens to us?

Is this why schools have fences and gates now and feel like prisons?

Can teachers carry guns to protect the students?

Even though I’m the adult, I don’t know the answers to their questions, to my questions. It seems that we can’t prevent this from happening, because it keeps happening.

Four school shootings since the beginning of January. It leaves me questioning humanity.

How do people get to a point in their lives that killing people seems reasonable?

How do school shootings and the devastation they bring to a community and families turn into a fight about gun control instead of a discussion about helping people heal?

How are we so apathetic that we miss some of the warning signs?

How do we stop the carnage?

Then I see pictures like this…

and my faith in humanity is restored.

People loving people. Being there for each other with a comforting hug and a shoulder to cry on.

I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to stop mass killings. I kind of think that as long as there are broken people in this world, we won’t be able to.

That’s a hard thought to deal with, but as long as the helpers are there, I know that we can get through these tragedies.