Tag Archive for: ocd

Prioritizing mental health in the midst of this pandemic.

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I find myself staring off into space, unable to open my mouth to answer a simple question. I feel frozen in melancholy, stuck in a way I haven’t felt in years. As the weeks turn to months, one thing is very clear: this pandemic has been so very hard on us mentally. Not just inconvenient, but actually dangerous to mental health. Friends of mine who have never struggled with feelings of anxiety, depression, panic are feeling these things for the first time and finding it hard to know where to turn to get help. And still those of us who have known this journey for many years may be be finding ourselves in just the pit we dug ourselves out of many years ago.

We’re faced with a real predicament: protect the physical health of ourselves and others and risk a real mental breakdown or find the safest ways possible to meet our emotional needs while trying to ignore the judgement that might come from those who might assume we are not taking this pandemic seriously. Because the truth is we absolutely are, but we are not willing to die for it.

A friend of mine shared with me in confidence that she “broke down and took her kids to her mother-in-laws”. Her husband is working long hours and she (struggling with anxiety, OCD, and panic attacks) felt she had reached her limit. She admitted that she felt guilty for doing so. She was worried about the ways in which that choice might affect the physical health of those closest to her. She was between a rock and a hard place, trying to choose physical health over mental health in a situation where both could be dire.

Another friend of mine is bipolar, a wonderful mom of two little ones. She makes an effort everyday to keep herself grounded so that doesn’t slide into the hole of depression she knows so well. Sometimes it keeps her down for months, where she’s not even able to text those closest to her. But in the midst of this pandemic, she feels like she’s struggling. Really really struggling. Her best coping skill is going to the beach, sitting by the waves, breathing deep. She feels guilty about considering going to the beach for the afternoon. “How can I risk it?” She asks me. “How can you not?” I say.

Mental health is not secondary to physical health. We can do both. And maybe sometimes we have to risk it a bit with one to save ourselves from the other. For instance, how many of us are severely afraid of needles and yet we would get the blood drawn for the sake of our physical health? And how many of us are pushing ourselves to our limit every day mentally in order to do our part in flattening the curve of this virus.

Am I suggesting we all go dance in the streets and hug all of our neighbors in the midst of a pandemic for the sake of our mental health? Absolutely not. But if you are struggling, really struggling, and you know you have reached your limit, please remember that your mental health is not something to take lightly. Call your mental health professional or someone you trust for guidance in how to best meet your emotional need while adhering to the stay at home order to the best of your ability.

And stay safe. Physically. And mentally.

We’re all trying too hard.

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There’s still makeup on my face from this morning, but I’ve exchanged my “trendy” ripped jeans and cute top for Erics old t-shirt and my maternity athletic shorts. “Now that I’m home I can relax” I tell myself. Ugh what a tall order. Who says relaxing is a thing just for home?

That’s part of my problem. Home is where I relax, but the rest of the world is my stage-where I perform. I don’t like that it’s like that. I don’t like that I sat at a table this morning with a bunch of wonderful women and pretended like I don’t have social anxiety and I wasn’t in the midst of the worst period of my life. Granted they were strangers, and there is something to be said about good boundaries and stuff. But it still makes me wonder what it would like if we weren’t all trying so damn hard all the time?

I toyed with the idea of wearing this outfit today. Erics baggy t-shirt, these shorts with the elastic so forgiving, but then I didn’t. Better look somewhat put together at least for our first meeting right? There will be time to look like crap later on. And heaven forbid Lilah not be wearing an outfit that coordinates pants, shirt, and hair bow (OCD coming into play. She matches even when she’s going to bed-send help-I have issues).

But I don’t want to be exhausted every time I leave my house. I don’t want to put on a mask for the world that I can only take off in the privacy of my own home.

And maybe some of you who know me are thinking that I’m an open book. I try to be. I try to be vulnerable and open and honest. And in some ways I am. I have no problem talking about my struggles, my poor choices. But you know what’s really hard for me? FEELING the pain in front of someone else. It’s even hard for me to feel the pain in front of myself.

So today I want you to know that I’m struggling with finding the right medication dose for my anxiety. I’m flailing around between scary postpartum thoughts and so much energy I can’t sleep. Eric and I are navigating a rocky road of his work schedule and my emotional needs. I continue to wrestle with stomach issues and face defeat in my postpartum weight loss battle. But most days you would never know it. I pride myself on holding it together. I never want to be “too much for anyone”.

And I know that today, in a room of so many women, we were all trying too hard. Trying too hard to get it together for two hours so we didn’t look like a blubbering mess to everyone else. Trying too hard to get it together for ourselves so we could feel normal for one second and not like just a mom with no life.

We’re living in a world of trying too hard. And that doesn’t mean we can’t dress up if we want or leave our problems behind for a little while. I will never stop loving fashion and picking out outfits and overspending on poshmark “cuz it’s so cheap”. And sometimes I NEED to pretend for a second that I’m not drowning in anxiety and obsessive compulsive thoughts.

BUT…

We don’t HAVE to. We don’t HAVE to try hard. We aren’t a slave to it. We can try hard or not try hard and pick and choose when and where and why.

My challenge to you and myself today. Go somewhere today and don’t try at all. Just be-whatever that means. And since my introvert self just had a big morning, the farthest I’m getting out is for a walk around the neighborhood, but you better believe I’m still not gonna try. I think it’s a laundry not done, bed not made (not that I EVER make it), cookies for lunch, chipoltle for dinner kind of day.

Who is with me?

Motherhood Mentality.

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It’s always been easy for me to share about my anxieties, my OCD tendencies, the negative thoughts that plague me on the hard days. But it’s oh so hard to admit that those things are a struggle for me as a mom.

I don’t want it to be true. I want the two to be separate somehow; the messy human version of me, and then the angelic supermom version of me. As much as I cognitively know the importance of my child watching me navigate my own emotions and humanity, I still so badly want to be the perfect mom for her. But on top of everything else, guilt over mental battles I cannot control, isn’t helping.

If Lilah is anything like her mama she will feel things deeply, observe closely, and internalize everything around her. Those things are amazing gifts but also very hard things to navigate in oneself. I want her to watch her mama do it with humility and honesty. And even if she’s nothing like me and calm and steady like her daddy, I want her to be able to empathize with the people in her life who are different from her.

So if I know the importance of living vulnerably for my child, then why is it so hard to let go of this “need to be supermom” mentality? The truth is it is all around us and while many of us are exhausted by the concept, just as many of us don’t even realize we’re striving.

It all comes down to this theme I’ve been wrestling with my whole life: resting in who we are and where we are. Accepting that we are not supermoms, superdads, superhumans, and instead embrace exactly who we are-even the knitty gritty stuff that sucks to know about.