“How are you?” She asked.
I felt drained, spacey.
“You mean me personally…emotionally?” It’s getting harder to separate “me” from motherhood.
“Sure”, she offered.
We get together once or twice a year when I’m back in my hometown. I call it my annual counseling session, but it’s actually so much better than that. Meeting with her can keep me going for a very long time. She gets it, and she gets me.
I have considered her a spiritual mentor for a very long time, but it is the way we both waited and then came into this thing called motherhood that brought us into this special friendship.
It was time to tell someone the truth. I took a deep breath.
“I am not okay.”
The year ended with end-of-the-semester shows and church Christmas programs. After watching other people’s children perform for so many years, isn’t this one of those things I was waiting to experience? My own children waving at me from the stage. My youngest daughter did this from the soccer field instead of paying attention to the ball. It was so endearing.
But dragging the whole family to a talent show where my child pretended to fail instead of doing his best, wasn’t what I had in mind. During intermission, I tried to monitor my kids’ food intake so they didn’t gorge themselves on the hors d’oeuvres and come home with sugar highs, all while not food shaming them. Impossible.
The next night, we repeated the whole thing, except it was my other child who completely forgot her lines. Of course she did. She refused to practice with me one single time, announcing that she knew them. She clearly did not and stood there in the spotlight, continuing to shout out the first word, staring uncomfortably at the director until she finally just made something up and the show went on. It was painful to watch.
This was not my dream of a sweet child waving at me from a stage. This was something else entirely. Dare I say it? This is what trauma looks like. The things I waited for, for so long, felt broken.
This time, there were no appetizers. And I was too hangry to cook.
I don’t remember all of the words that I shouted at the fast food worker that night, but among them were, “There are seven people in this car! Of course that’s not our whole order.”
She argued with me and walked away. I was more than angry. I was panicking because one of my children wasn’t going to get their food. And food insecurity runs rampant in our family. What happened to “the customer is always right”? How dare she argue with me? My kids argue with me. They steal from me. They lie to me. One of them or all of them, every single day, every hour. I felt out of control. Everything felt out of control.
That evening, back at home with a stomachache full of self-loathing and greasy fast-food, I knew I was not okay. I know there are people who are in the habit of yelling at customer service workers, but I am not one of them. I do not yell at strangers. And I do not wish to yell at those I love.
My mental health is too close to the proverbial cliff.
My mentor asked me, “What do you need?”
I have always considered needs to be the basics: food, water, shelter etc. All else are wants. I am reframing this in my mind because I clearly have mental needs that are not being met.
I have been thinking about this a lot. What do I need? Here are some things I have come up with, but I really want you to give you the opportunity to ask yourself the same question and see what you come up with for yourself.
1. A counselor. Truly, I believe in therapy. I had such a wonderful counselor help me through my infertility grief. I think I may be too scared to try to find another one because she was just so good, and I cannot imagine a better match.
2. Coffee dates with myself. I have this once a week right now. This is my writing time. My mentor tells me I need two more of these types of getaways a week. I cannot imagine that happening, but I’m considering my options.
3. Sleep. Ever since our sweet puppy came home, I have not had the privilege of uninterrupted sleep. She likes to wake up with the sun. Going to bed at a decent time is my only option, which takes strategic planning on my part. Teenagers do not like to go to sleep. Neither does anyone else. Lord, help me. I have learned that it takes me two full hours every night to reset myself, the house, and my homeschool plan for the next day.
I am sure that this list will grow.
In the meantime, I want to encourage you in this season of resolutions. You don’t have to do all the things.
Or be all the things.
Or perform all the things.
Or succeed at all the things.
Or help with at all the things.
Or give all of yourself.
We cannot give from an empty cup. We know this. What will we do about it?
Think about it, and let me know: what is it that you need?
How can I pray for you this week?
Mindy, I also recommend Steady Now by Melissa Miller on Substack and her wonderful book Restful Anticipation.
Hello Mindy, my heart goes out to you. Life, at times can be so overwhelming and especially with children. I mentioned that the love of my life passed away last month, and I am struggling with depression, acceptance and I am not okay too. You responded with comforting words which I greatly appreciated. You're in my prayers and would you keep me in yours? Thank you for sharing! You're not alone.