All tagged Mental health
“What if we bought a house in the country and homeschooled the kids?” I thought out loud in my husband’s direction. Miguel, ever-patient listened as I played out my daydream before I came to the obvious conclusion that I would be miserable after two weeks. Still, life suddenly felt too fast – I was capable of keeping up, but for the first time in a long time I didn’t want to.
Earlier this week, I gave a virtual keynote on our family’s journey and various themes from my book, Normal Broken. During the Q&A, an attendee mentioned she had been reading my blog, but until this talk hadn’t known what the name of my blog, Inchstones, referred to. So, this week, I’m taking it back to March 22nd, 2019, and resharing a blog about what the concept of inchstones means to me.
As caregivers we spend so much time resisting the idea that our loved one is a burden. We love them, we want to care for them, they deserved to be cared for, and if we don’t do it who else will? In a world that measures human value in physical or financial productivity, the last thing we want to do is show the toll their health takes on us as well.
I know we are never healed, and that we will always grieve our lost loves. I’ve written those words here, in my book Normal Broken, and say them in nearly every speech I give. I could accept grieving Adelaide forever because I will love her forever. Grief = Love. What I didn’t understand is that the trauma of her life would be with me forever as well.
Strength, or our perception of it, is a theme I have come back to time and again in my writing. For a long time, I didn’t think I deserved to be considered strong because it wasn’t something I chose. Though I eventually accepted that there is always a choice, even when the alternatives seem unfathomable. So why, if I am now able to own my strength, am I still struggling to define it?
There will always be stresses in life: plans that go awry, disappointing outcomes, and the occasional asteroid. This summer, I want to try and enjoy life more, even amidst the inevitable chaos. Or, perhaps, despite it. I know that one day I will miss attending little league games, that I will look longingly at the cherub-faced child in the preschool graduation photos. I want to enjoy it all more NOW.
During a text check-in with a fellow Dead Kids Club member this past weekend, our conversation turned to how no one tells you just how challenging life can get. She noted that sadly, she learned that as a child, but she had a similar conversation with another DKC member whose life was uneventful until the passing of her son. It had been incredibly jarring for her to find out as a 40+-year-old that life does not always go as planned.
If you are fortunate to live long enough, inevitably you will experience moments that forever change the trajectory of your life. These are the dates we recall effortlessly, markers in time, that separate life into before and after. My most significant date is May 26th, 2016. Not even Adelaide’s death, Jackson’s birth, or Anessa’s arrival can compare to the change leveled on our family that day.
This week, pretend play gone wrong, surging hormones, and slamming doors had me questioning if Anessa was right and I am indeed, “doing it wrong”. It is a gift to be a mother – and to stay a mother – but that doesn’t make the challenge of being a mother any easier. Thank goodness for dear friends who can remind you (and your children) that you’re doing a great job.
I don’t do boring and avoid it at all costs. I’m not an adrenaline junky by any means but I do crave an exciting life. If I look at a calendar and see too many days that look the same, I get itchy. That is one of the reasons I think Miguel and I work so well together: he keeps life exciting by simply existing and I make sure we don’t forget our toothbrushes.
Logically, I know that our bodies hold on to grief. I’ve read about it in various books, researched it for my own, as well as had personal experiences. However, my knowledge revolved around episodic symptoms. What I didn’t understand were the long-term effects.
One of my favorite things about writing this blog is continuously being reminded how many of us are struggling with the exact same things. While I never want other people to struggle it is comforting to know that we have shared demons. Kind of like how Anessa and her friends share a love of the color purple, unicorns, and a difficulty transitioning from one activity to the next. We share anxiety, trauma, and crippling ambition. Same-same.
