In September last year I wrote a blog, describing my mental health crisis I found myself in. In some ways writing it down and putting it out there helped me feel not so alone, but it was my least read blog.
I am not sure why? Perhaps the world only wants to hear of my success and highs and not my lows. The older I am getting some days the lows get really low.
I have been on a journey quite intentionally with Zinzi in the last year (even though I have known her so much longer) as she has been working on her album. Her album launched today and I got to listen to it at 4:30 am. What a beautiful story and a beautiful album!
This last week in my life has been one of the most stressful in a very long time. It is not that any big thing happened. It was just the news that people I loved were not doing well. These people are close to me, really close to me. We had to after probably letting the concerns go on to long, stop supporting three more Community Kitchens. That was very hard and the backlash has been severe.
It is the backlash and the words spoken that probably have contributed to me having to battle my own dark night again. I have realised for a few weeks that it is all getting too much and that I had to make some changes, but every change would require a conversation and my anxiety about hard conversations are resulting in overwhelming anxiety that contributes to me feeling stuck.
On Tuesday night after a stressful day, I got a message from one of children's teachers and the picture sent had a child bleeding in it and it was not my child, but my child was a part of the reason this kid was bleeding. I had done my best to make sure this child of mine was supervised, but the supervision had life happen in the morning and could not get to the school, the back up were all busy and I was committed to do the end duck talk with the OT students and was committed to end at 2pm.
I messaged the mom whose child was hurt, I messaged Barbara who had first hand witnessed my stress that morning when I realised my child was going to be unsupervised. What followed these two messages was acknowledging that I felt incredible shame and felt paralyzed by my overwhelming feelings. I melted down. It was not pretty and very scary for both Holger and me.
The problem is that this is not the first time. I have melted down before. First time in grade 10 and I got slapped through the face. Next after Daniel was born and I felt it was confirmed to be true that the problem was me, when I could not soothe him. It was scary then too, but I got up and went to study counselling.
What followed was years of studying and working hard. I worked hard to be a good wife, a good parent, a good community worker.
After a run in with a person I really care about in 2014 and this after a spell of significant painful losses, I melted down again. That day I thought the only option was death. I left the house in the car. My poor kids, they talk about that day still an tease me about it. Instead, I went to a friend who was struggling and listened, instead of driving into a tree. I came home, said sorry and went to get help. My doctor explained I was depressed and needed to see a Psychiatrist. I did what I was told to in 2014. I have to state here that that was the worst day in my life of seeking care. She barraged at me with questions and BEING an honest person, I responded to every question as best I could. An hour later I walked out with a diagnosis and a script. It was a hard day. Holger held me as I sobbed when I got home and told him my tale. Together we decided to get the drugs, we both knew I needed help. I tried to explain to someone I worked with in trouble and he made it about me being a women! That was 10 years ago.
I stayed on the drugs for 5 whole months, but I hated it! I felt dead on the inside. I knew they were too high. After trying to get her to help adjust them and her lack of empathy to my desire to not be shut down to cope, added to my feeling that I was all on my own. I took myself off the meds, starting exercising and got into incredible shape. I thought I was healed and well. I kept the drug journey to myself and feared to tell anyone. After all I have a biological dad who had a serious mental illness, what if people start treating me like I have one too!
After all my recovery by 2016, we were on what we were certain was God calling us to adopt.
I had no idea that my journey of loss and change was far from over.
In many ways I am extremely proud of how well I coped and how much capacity I have had over the years to just keep going.
I got into help again in 2018 and it was so much more helpful and hopeful and I was on my way to really getting a handle on my mental health, or so I thought.
However, in 2019, I was diagnosed after major blood work to be burnt out. I responded well to medicine and it did not take long I felt like I was winning at life again! There was no talk of my mental health perhaps playing a factor in it all, my incredible drive to perform well and be good at what I do.
Adoption journey gave me new reason to live. I had beautiful new little humans to love.
Covid hit, miracles abounded...
Four years later, Community Kitchens started feeling like a mistake. I had tried so hard not to create more dependents, but I had some unhappy Kitchen ladies as support dropped and is it not amazing how loud unhappy people can get? It was scary how triggering this was for me...
I love the work I do, I love my children, I love my marriage, I have a great church and... but I still melted down! I still was convinced on Tuesday night that the only possible solution was that I die. Everyone else around me would be happier without me. Thank God I had a husband that walked me through that horrible moment and he never slapped me! He has never slapped me!
Here I am on Human Rights Day, 2024 and I sit after having had a melt down on Tuesday night and the worst one ever, feeling tearful and vulnerable knowing I need to go see a Doctor again.
I am making a choice today to put it out there and on my blog. I too have a right to Mental Health and my own fight with it my whole life means hiding it and fighting it alone may land up with me being dead. I do not want to die! I want to live, I need to live...
Mental health is a real need. Hiding it never helped anyone. Walking with Zinzi in the way that I have in the last year, helped me start facing my own struggle in a way that made me want to not be ill, be ok and be more... however, it has had the opposite effect, it has helped me come out and admit that I am struggling with depression and I need help.
Do I fear? Yes! I am afraid people will read this and treat me differently. I am afraid that the schools that have lined me up to speak will cancel me. I am fearful that I will be branded a fraud.
However, the pain levels in my heart are too high, my children need a healthy mom... I want to learn to give help that helps and receive help that helps.
I write this blog in honour of my biological dad today who struggled in world that did not understand or help in ways that he needed. I honour Zinzi for showing us there is a different way that helps people like me come out... and as I battle through my own story declare that I want to advocate for more helpful care to people suffering with mental health issues, people like me!
Comments
Post a Comment