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Mental Illness Awareness Month: How You Can Help Your Loved Ones

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May is Mental Health Awareness Month and I wanted to do SOMETHING. Like storm into Congress and tell them we need more funding, more accessible health care, psychiatrists and therapists that file their own insurance claims. I want to ring the Mental Health COWBELL and tell the world how difficult it is for those suffering to get help.

But, I don’t want to go to jail and I don’t have a cowbell. So I do what I can. I try to be transparent about my own struggles. I’m not ashamed. Not anymore. It took me awhile to get here but I made it. Because the more open we are, the more the stigma begins to loosen it’s grasp on society.

So I went to my readers and asked what has helped/hurt them in their own mental health struggles. They had a lot to say. And I’m going to lean HEAVY on how people have helped. I get a bad taste in my mouth reading the 8000 lists shared on FaceBook about everything you are doing wrong with your friends with anxiety, things you should stop doing. Because, let’s be real– anybody who is reading those articles are people who WANT to help.

I heard from one reader who said all those lists have made him gun shy about saying ANYTHING to people he knew were suffering for fear of saying the wrong thing. I get it. I know I’ve snapped at my family for saying the “wrong” thing. But I’ve learned to give them the benefit of the doubt– because I don’t doubt their love and commitment to me. I can’t kick their legs out from under them for TRYING to help and encourage me.

WORDS THAT HURT

I could post a lengthy list of quotes I received from almost 100 readers. But I’m not gonna, Imma summarize.

Don’t minimize.

I worry, too.

Just relax.

Don’t worry about things you can’t control.

The Bible says, ‘Be anxious for nothing.’ 

These phrases and ones similar to it imply that the person has a choice. And they don’t. You wouldn’t tell someone with a broken arm, “I have an arm too!” You wouldn’t tell someone with diabetes, “Hey, relax. Just let this whole blood sugar thing go.”

The Bible/God/Church thing is an ATOMIC BOMB to drop on someone suffering with mental illness, because it implies their struggle is a moral issue. And it is NOT. If faith and prayer could fix mental illness, it wouldn’t exist. NO ONE wants to be able to ‘let things go’ more than the sufferer. Implying that they are somehow being disobedient, lacking in faith, or sinning is heaping coals of shame on their head.

 

Don’t try to “fix” it. 

You need to exercise/go for a walk/work out more. 

SHUT IT.

Would you say that to someone suffering from mono? No, because they are sick, exhausted and need rest. The physical toll of depression and mental illness is real. Offer to take their kids so they can nap. I spent months sleeping over 12 hours a day. I couldn’t stay awake, I felt like I was swimming through wet cement. The idea of exercising was totally out of reach.

HOW TO HELP

I am so, so, so fortunate to have the best support system ever. I have an ARMY of women friends who treat my kids like they are their own. A husband and family that will, and have, bent over backwards to help me. They have let me nap and sleep in, they have cooked me meals and driven me to the doctor. They have prayed and encouraged me and there is SO MUCH you can do to help your loved ones.

ASK QUESTIONS & BE HONEST

If you can’t relate, then don’t try to– saying, ‘I worry too” doesn’t help. That’s being human. But saying, ‘I know you’re hurting how can I help?’ shows them you see their pain and are willing to help.

Instead of quoting Scripture to them, ask, “How can I be praying for you?” My friends were so good at doing this and it always took my breath away. I honestly couldn’t pray. I was numb and could barely focus on anything, but it meant so much that they were. And the specificity of it– not just saying ‘I’m praying for you’– was so meaningful.

‘HOW can I help you?’ is so much more meaningful than, ‘Let me know if I can help.’

It takes the pressure off of them of having to call you randomly and ask you for help. Because we already feel like a burden.

Ask questions:

Can I run to the store for you?

Let me get your kids after school.

I’m cooking dinner for you tonight.

These are tangible things you can do to help without your loved one feeling like they’ve inconvenienced you.

One of the most powerful conversations I’ve had with a friend was only a few months ago, I was changing one of my meds and not handling it well. I was weepy, exhausted and overwhelmed. It was time for carpool and I had no idea how I was going to get my kids home and to after school activities.

I called my friend and asked for help…

Her: You don’t sound good, are you sick?

It always feels like a trick question, because I always feel guilty for not being able to do what everybody else is doing. I feel like the biggest failure on the planet when I am too overwhelmed to take care of my kids.

Me: *bursts into tears* Yeah, I guess. We’re changing my meds and I can’t get it together. I’m in the bed…

She cut me off.

Her: You don’t EVER have to explain to me why you need my help. You ARE sick. Just like any other kind of being sick. You’re not putting me out. The only thing I’d be mad about is if I found out you were in the bed sobbing and DIDN’T ask me for help. You don’t have to explain yourself.

I’m crying just typing this. No explanation required. I’m sick, I’m not feeling well. I need help.

Best friend ever.

There is so much you can do to help, and for those of us suffering– we have to be willing to accept it. We have to show grace to those who are trying to love us without truly understanding where we are.

We have to be there. For each other.

 

 

 

Peeking Out of the Closet

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I’ve spent the last nine months fighting a dark and intense battle with depression. When I just counted back to when things started to get bad, it took my breath away.

Nine months.

Nine months of darkness and mental torment. Nine months of feeling helpless and hopeless. Nine long months after a lifetime of smaller skirmishes with mental illness.

After my book tour ended in April, I sent my manuscript to my editor, and promptly fell apart. There are so many words, so much pain, and such a depth of despair I could tell you about during that two month period. But it’s not time for that, yet.

I quit blogging and writing my newspaper columns because I was incapable of doing anything productive– like getting dressed, taking care of my kids, or cooking meals.

There have been times in the past few years when I’ve felt down and had to fake the funny to keep writing. That wasn’t even an option. I was being smothered by a concrete blanket which settled heavier on my chest the more I tried to fight it.

In May, I gave up and gave in. My disease had become life threatening, disabling and I begged my doctor for help. I “summered,” if you will, at an outpatient treatment center in Jackson, MS to get the help I needed.

I spent 12 weeks in intensive outpatient care. This means I had to stay in a hotel, take my own meds and eat my own food– which was a huge disappointment to me. I had fantasies of three meals a day I didn’t have to cook, taking pills that somebody else counted out and possibly cutting my hair like Winona Ryder’s to look more waifish.)

I’m telling you all of this because I can’t find a way back to writing without being honest. I know writing is my gift and my life’s breath. It’s what fills me up, what connects me to other people and more often than not– it’s how I begin to heal.

But I’m terrified. As much as I’d like to say, “I don’t care what anybody thinks of me,” I do care. As much as I’d like to pretend there isn’t a stigma attached to being mentally ill– there is. I worry about small town gossip in front of my kid’s school mates, I worry about people telling them their mother is crazy. I worry about becoming so associated with mental illness that it becomes my identity. I worry that instead of being Robin– a compilation of strengths and weaknesses, humor and pain– instead of being human, I’ll become something less than.

So why the hell am I telling you this?

Because I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. It’s impossible for me to go back to being funny without acknowledging where I’ve been… where I am.

We all know that life is brutal. But that’s what makes the beautiful things absolutely breathtaking. Sharing the laughter without the pain makes the exquisite joy of life and laughter less meaningful.

I’m so much better than I was a few months ago, a few weeks ago, a few days ago and I am hopeful that my recovery will continue. But I’m taking it slow and struggling everyday to show myself grace– to take care of myself by doing simple things: drinking water, going to bed early, reading lots of real paper books and lying on the bed with whichever of my girls will be still and talk to me.

I needed to tell you where I’ve been, and that I’m okay. And if you’re there, hurting and hopeless– it gets better. I know you don’t think it ever will. I know you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. From where you are, it’s too dark and you doubt if a way out even exists.

But I promise it’s there… I’ve seen it myself and I’m reaching backwards, offering you my hand in the dark and urging you to take one tiny step forward.

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If you need help call 1-800-273=8255 and Google “low fee therapy” for affordable therapy in your area.

*I am working on a mental health awareness project, if you are interested in being involved please email me at robinschicks (at) gmail.com, with a photo, your name, age, short description of who you are/what you do and your diagnosis. And I’ll send you more information. 

 

Shoeboxes For Kids

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I haven’t talked about relief for tornado survivors in awhile. But that’s not because I haven’t been thinking about it. A Facebook friend of mine, Chasidy Estes (who is married to the reason I had to take Algebra II twice in high-school– her husband is hilarious and distracting) and her sister-in-law Chelsea South have started a program in Jasper, AL called Shoeboxes for Kids.

They are collecting shoe boxes, or similar containers, full of happies for the children of Cordova. Cordova is a small town on the outskirts of Jasper that was hit really hard by the tornadoes on April 27th. According to a report by WKRG news 90% of the town’s infrastructure was destroyed when they were hit by an ef-3 and an ef-4.

Tornado advances towards Cordova. Image via justpiper.com. Copyright 2011 www.countynews49.net.

One of hundreds of pictures of the devastation in Cordova. Image via al.com

Last week, Cordova’s elementary and middle schools held a balloon release ceremony for two brothers who were killed during the second tornado. The boys were 10 and 12 years old and their classmates didn’t even know about their funerals in enough time to attend due to the fact that the area was completely without power for 10 days after the storm. Chasidy’s goal is to have a shoebox for EACH child at Cordova Elementary. They have 224 boxes and need 163 more.

It may not be much, but to a child who has lost everything, including a friend, it’s enough to make them smile for a moment. And that is something worth working toward.

Click HERE to read an article about Shoeboxes for Kids in The Daily Mountain Eagle.

Email Chasidy at shoeboxforkidswalkercounty@gmail.com for information on how you can give. The drop off location and mailing address for any supplies you might send is: 52 N Walston Bridge Road, Jasper, AL 35501. They are not currently a 501c3 but you can give to their PayPal account and Chasidy and Chelsea will mail you a receipt for the supplies they bought in your name: to make a payment to their account enter 2054713038 on the PayPal site.

Praying for Storm Survivors

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Eventually I will blog about something else. Eventually, but not yet. I am still in shock at the devastation that I see and overwhelmed by the stories I’m hearing from all my family and friends.

Last night I was looking for a new scripture memory verse for the year long exercise Beth Moore is leading, and I found these:

‎”You’ll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundations from out of your past. You’ll be known as those who can fix anything, restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate, make the community livable again.” Isaiah 58:12 (The Message)

“Relieve the troubles of my heart and free me from my anguish.” Psalm 25:17 (NIV)

This is what I am praying for every survivor– every person who lost a loved one, a home or a job.

Tornado Damage

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Warning: This is not a happy post. There are stories regarding storm victims that are disturbing.

I realize it’s been a few days since I’ve posted anything. Like many of you, I’ve been glued to the television, internet and radio. First I was watching the storms that tracked from Mississippi to Georgia and beyond, then I’ve been desperate for news reports of the aftermath. All of my family and my husband’s family and almost all of our friends, live in some of the hardest hit areas: Tuscaloosa, Jasper and Birmingham. Thankfully all of our family and friends are accounted for and safe. Many of them have extensive damage to their homes and all of them are devastated by the destruction around them.

My mom’s house.

Out of respect for these people, I’m giving the funny a rest for a few days. It seems disrespectful to be trivial and upbeat while  so many people have lost everything. Not just their homes. Many have lost jobs– business were obliterated. Daycare centers and schools are gone,  thankfully they were empty because schools had closed for the day. Families were literally ripped apart.

My brother lives in Tuscaloosa and his reports from storm victims are gut-wrenching. I spent a good part of the day yesterday searching for national news coverage and only found the same short reel on The Weather Channel, playing over and over again. I ended up on ABC 33/44’s website watching local news coverage because I couldn’t find anything else.

DCH, the hospital closest to the Tuscaloosa devastation, is out of body bags. Bodies line sidewalks in some areas because the morgues are full. A thirteen-year-old student of my brother’s pulled his dead baby cousin out of rubble. One of my brother’s friends pulled a young school aged child out of the rubble where her dead parents still lay. I am heartbroken for these people and the thousands like them across the country. Please pray. PLEASE. PRAY. If you are too far away, or not able to send supplies, donate to the Red Cross, they are helping victims country wide.

I’m sharing with you some of the most impressive footage I’ve seen.

Tuscaloosa Tornado

Cahaba Heights Storm Damage (This is my mother’s neighborhood.)

Tuscaloosa Search & Rescue

 

 

If you have stories to share or family you would like me to pray for please leave a comment and I will include them in my prayers.

Happy Easter!

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I got the girls a few little treats to celebrate Easter. One of their prizes was a plastic chicken that can be filled with egg shaped bubble gum. You wind it up and the chicken waddles around and “lays” eggs.

The girls were sitting at the kitchen table playing (they have pjs but would rather wear The Shirt Off My Back) while The Best Husband in the EN-TIRE world made breakfast. They were making their chickens “talk” to one another and Aubrey’s(4) chicken said, “Hey, I got all my children up my butt!”

Oh, but haven’t we all felt that way before?!

Today isn’t about plastic chickens or chocolate bunnies, it’s about the greatest miracle this world has ever seen. The resurrection of Jesus Christ! Happy Easter!

Be the Mommy

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As mothers, sometimes it is so easy to get caught up in the “doing” of motherhood that we miss opportunities to simply “be” the Mommy. The piles of dishes, laundry, bills and dirty diapers can be overwhelming and at times so distracting that it is hard to even focus on what your child is saying because we are mentally going through the checklist of everything still left to do.

Time flies, literally, and we can never get back the moments we have with our children, regardless of their ages. Make a concerted effort to savor every word, every slobbery kiss and yes, every temper tantrum. Soon enough we will all be looking back and saying, “I remember when…”

Today, I am going to “be” the Mommy. I will make pancakes, build forts, play with play-doh, play hide and seek in the house and read as many books as my children will sit still for…I won’t even paraphrase or pretend pages get stuck together so I can do laundry. The laundry will still be there even when they aren’t.