Is it OK to not be OK?

How are you?

Fine. You?

Great.

We have these mini-conversations every day. And it is a standard. For the most part, no one is really inviting you in that moment to discuss your general well-being. It’s the new hello. How are ya? Good! Great. Have a good day.

But what about people you know? People you REALLY know. At what point can you say, you know what- I’m NOT OK. Not even a little bit. Seems to me noone really wants to hear it. And that’s OK, too, because lord knows we all have enough going on.

One of my favorite replies came from one of my grandparents who used to say, “Can’t complain. Who would listen anyway?” I don’t remember which grandparent would say this, maybe they all did. Maybe you just get to that point in your life where you think no one wants to hear your laundry list of Things That Have Gone Wrong Today. And that’s true. No one does. Again, lord knows we have our own sets of crosses to bear. But at what point does not burdening another with our bullshit become holding in things which are actually kind of significant to us? Things that will eat at us from the inside if we don’t let them out.

I was a Facebook “vague book” offender the other day when I posted that my heart was heavy and I urged people to be nice to one another because as the saying goes, we are all fighting battles no one knows about. I received so many lovely and comforting comments and texts. It felt good to know I was supported. But I didn’t necessarily want to get down into the deep and nitty-gritty. And I don’t, on a public blog, want to go there now.

However, I realized today when I let loose my angst on my child that I had been keeping too much bottled inside. It’s not that I don’t talk to people–I do. My mom. Sometimes my sister. I have friends I tell things to piecemeal. But I’ve been known to hold back and sugar coat. Because who really wants to hear that I’m hanging by a slender thread of sanity? That even though I could rattle off a gratitude list as long as your arm and I start and end each day with a prayer and I realize I am among the very blessed of this world, I am still sinking deep into a place where I desperately don’t want to go.

Admitting weakness is not one of my strong suits. I can self-deprecate with the best of them, but when it comes right down to it I feel like I am a strong mofo, above weakness of any sort, and there is absolutely zero room for me to complain or accept sadness or accept anything that is not within my immediate control.

But that’s all a load of horseshit.

There are a zillion things out of my control. From as big as the constant barrage of violence in our world to the way my children react to the only parenting I am qualified to give to health issues that arise which I am not qualified to fix, whether they be mental or physical.

This is certainly not something that the odd passerby who asks me how I’m doing needs to hear. But it is something we all need to address in our lives; whether we need to find that trusted confidante or we need to admit to ourselves that there is a problem that can’t be solved on our own, we need to stop pretending that things are OK when they are not.

Maybe if more people said, “I’m not OK right now” and weren’t looked at as freaks or inappropriate or whatever, this world would be a different place.

I know that today is just a moment in time. I know that this, too, shall pass.  But let’s all remember people need a safe place to say, “I’m not OK”. If we all strive to be a safe place for someone, anyone, maybe the world wouldn’t seem so overwhelming.

Just a thought and I haven’t written anything in so long, I’m just hitting publish on this baby…

 

 

 

Black and blue

Imagine swimming in a cold blue ocean. Then diving down, down, down until there is no blue, no sun, only black. Heavy, oppressive black. And you can’t break the surface because suddenly you don’t even know which way is up. That is the weight of depression and what many struggle with every day.

Like for many, the news of Robin Williams’ suicide has affected me. Not just because the man was such a huge part of our culture and touched so many with his humor and in the amazing characters that he so convincingly brought to life, but also because this genius man, who brought joy to so many, suffered the weight of that oppressive darkness. That the pain he felt was so great the only way he could finally find peace was through death. I’ve been trying for days to make sense of these feelings and had thought I would write about it last night, but was too “tired” to do so. And yes, I was tired, just not from the physical exhaustion of a busy, active, productive day, but from the mental strain of trying reconcile all the thoughts and feelings that I was having.

When I first read the news, I just immediately shut down my computer. I told my mother of his death and said that apparently it was self-inflicted. Self inflicted. And although the words were apt in some ways they were completely false and hollow in others. It is often said we our own worst enemies. Or is it just those of us who struggle with depression or anxiety or addiction or some other mental illness that feel that way. So then are we to blame? After all we are the ones inflicting these wounds upon ourselves even if we feel powerless to stop. We are the ones whom people judge for not being strong enough to “snap out of it”. We are the ones whom people call selfish or crazy or ungrateful. We are the ones that are told to look on the bright side or appreciate all the blessings we have or that it could be worse. We are the ones who know it could be worse and despise our weakness and fatigue from fighting this invisible assailant. It’s our own fault. Right?

I once read the words of a man describing his alcoholic mother on the incredibly brilliant Humans of New York. He said he separated his mom from the disease and imagined there were both an alcoholic and his mom living in the same body and that he knew his mom loved him and that she hated the alcoholic. It was so insightful that this man could recognize this about his mom and it touched me greatly because I think that this is the way many addicts and those struggling with other mental illnesses feel. There are two people struggling for occupancy in one body. And it is difficult to fight against yourself. And it is even harder when people don’t understand or try to understand what this battle is like.

When someone as amazingly talented, and by all accounts kind and generous and sensitive, as Robin Williams loses that battle, or is so tired of fighting against the darkness that they feel the only possible way to bring peace to themselves and to the people around them is by killing themselves, the world grows a little dimmer for everyone. The darkness that is depression, addiction, anxiety–diseases, all of them–has claimed another soul. And for those of us who can relate because we’re either surviving through it or because we love someone who is or because we are currently embroiled in the same battle, it can be scary. A scary reminder that the darkness can come upon us at any time. That we need to continue our meditations and our meetings and our medication and all the other things that we do to survive and thrive. That we aren’t ever totally out of the woods and must be vigilant and light as many candles in our lives as we can to cast out the darkness.

There are many people throughout my family and within my circle of friends who have suffered with some form of addiction, depression, anxiety, PTSD, or other mental illness. Perhaps this gives me more compassion for these conditions than others seem to have, but it is truly mind-boggling to me and breaks my heart to realize how many people are ignorant about these illnesses and cast blame on those who suffer. People who can’t understand why others who lead such “charmed lives” or appear to “have it all” can “throw it all away”. That people actually presume to know what is in another human being’s heart or mind and that they don’t seem to believe that mental illness is an affliction. They believe those who suffer actually choose to do so. I know I wrote about my reaction to these ignorant thoughts and feelings when reading comments people left on the Internet after Phillip Seymour Hoffman died, but in the shadow of Robin Williams’ suicide people’s attitudes and comments have left me feeling colder, sadder, and more scared.

Perhaps it is because I, too, as a younger version of myself had to fight the good fight against depression. Not just “the blues”, not just being negative or failing to see the good things in my life or wallowing in self-pity (as all have been suggested to me at some point), but the true black, oppressive weight of depression. I was terrified when I was pregnant that I would have to deal with post-partum depression on top of taking care of the twins on my own. I was concerned enough at one point about 3 months in, when I seemed to be crying a lot and one day I just let out a scream; a long, loud, horror-movie scream that just erupted from me and seemed not to have been prompted by anything in particular. It was then that I thought I should probably see a doctor. I’m pretty sure I have told the story before about dragging myself to a psychiatrist with my ginormous double stroller and my fussy infant twins and relaying my story while trying to feed one child in one arm and rock the stroller with the other hand and the psychiatrist sort of gently suggesting that it probably wasn’t post-partum, but that I was likely just experiencing some adjustment anxiety due to my new situation. She gave me some pills and sent me on my way. I was able to fight against the depression and avoid being consumed by it, but for anyone who has ever been there you know that it is never conquered, only managed or tamed and too often it is simply hidden or ignored. But although I know that I am in a much better place, I also know that if I don’t continue fighting, the black can find me again. I assume that is why this has hit me so hard and why I find people’s callous comments about his death so difficult to bear. So many people are fighting these invisible battles. We would do better as a society to offer some loving shields, some empathy and and understanding with which to arm these warriors rather than casting stones of judgement and ignorance and aligning with the enemy. The enemy is the illness, the scorn and derision of people should be wielded against it,not those who are fighting it every day.

Mrs. Brightside

Those that know me know that winter just isn’t my time of year. I really dislike being cold. As a kid and young adult, I enjoyed skiing and ice skating (still do) but what always killed it for me was being cold. And when I get cold it seeps all the way into my bones and I feel like I can never get warm. It sucks. Add in the darkness and basically my instinct is to crawl into my nice warm bed and come out sometime in April.

This is where I’d like to spend the remainder of the winter

I’ve long suspected that I suffer from S.A.D. (seasonal affective disorder); things always seem a little harder to deal with in the winter and the dark, but like any other sign of weakness, I’ve blown it off telling myself that I need to just suck it up. Grin and bear it. Tough it out. But here’s the thing. I’m so tired of doing that. I’m tired of saying that everything is peachy keen even when it isn’t. I’m tired of feeling like I always have to be little Mary Sunshine sprinkling rose petals on the path of life and pooping rainbows. Somewhere along the line I got the message that if I wasn’t always thinking positively the world would reject me. Well, screw that. Life isn’t always puppy dogs and lollipops.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in the power of positive thinking. I know that the laws of attraction are real. I have experienced for myself the way you get back what you put out into the universe. My favorite parable has always been about the two wolves and the fight that goes on inside every person. I know which wolf I need to feed. I recently posted another parable of the same ilk on Facebook about two dogs, one friendly and one not, who go one-by-one into a room. The friendly dog comes out even happier, tail wagging and loving life. The other comes out growling and snarling. A woman goes into the room to find out what could cause such different reactions from the dogs and finds a room full of mirrors. The happy dog saw thousands of happy dogs and the other saw a room of dogs ready to attack. Yes. I love the truth in this. I get it.

The bottom line is that there are some times when I get sad or scared or frustrated or overwhelmed with everything that I’ve got going on. I know that people have it worse than I do and that I shouldn’t complain and I should just be grateful for everything I am blessed with. And I am. But it gets exhausting pretending that it is not freaking hard sometimes. Pretending that the choices I’ve made haven’t led me to a place that isn’t exactly easy street. Pretending that sometimes I don’t think, gee, I really wish I lived on easy street. Wouldn’t it be nice if I hadn’t made so many mistakes and didn’t have so many worries?

Does it make me a negative person to acknowledge these thoughts and feelings? Does the negativity just breed and then things keep getting harder for me? Maybe it does. I remember when I was pregnant in the hospital and was so scared and lonely and miserable and uncomfortable and I was crying, a nurse told me that I needed to stop or that when my babies were born they were going to cry all the time. Nice.

I feel like all along the line I have been conditioned to believe that it isn’t OK to feel  negative emotions. And it definitely isn’t OK to show them or let anyone else know you are feeling them. I want to call bullshit on this.

The last thing I want to teach my kids is that their feelings are wrong. How can feelings be wrong? Why are some feelings acceptable and some aren’t? Behaviors, OK. We can’t go around punching people when we are angry. We can’t literally crawl into our beds and never come out when we are sad. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t feel these things or that it is wrong to feel that way or even talk about it. It doesn’t make us negative people to have these natural emotions. It makes us human.

One of the things that I’m trying to work on with C is the anger thing. We both have tempers and neither of us ever know what to do with our anger. This is definitely the scariest of the “negative” emotions for me because for those of us who have stuffed it down for so long, it can be explosive. The trick is figuring out a way to feel the anger and let it out in a constructive way. What I don’t want to teach him is that getting angry is “bad”. Because what is “bad” is the stuffing it down part; the not acknowledging that something has made one angry and holding it inside because you want to be good and lovable and angry people aren’t good and lovable. I want to teach him that good and lovable people get angry sometimes. Because bad stuff happens sometimes. Things that aren’t fair. Things that aren’t the way we want them to be. And it is OK to be angry about it and to say you are angry about it and to find a proper vent for that anger.

And then there is sadness, which is the most insidious of the “negative” emotions.  Especially for sensitive souls like G and myself. We are told from a young age “big boys/girls don’t cry”. We are told throughout our lives to “get over it” and “move on” from the sources of our sadness: the loss of a prize, a dream, a relationship. Even seeing someone mourning death makes many people uncomfortable and so people who are grieving are encouraged to do so in private. Why? Why can’t we be openly sad? Because crying and sadness are equated with weakness. And weakness isn’t valued in our society, only strength. So, we try to smile and keep our chins up and all the things that show the world that we are good and lovable and strong people. But if unreleased anger is like fire that will heat us until we explode, lingering sadness is like water filling all the space inside until there is no air and we drown.

I’m not saying that one should dwell on negative emotions. What I am saying is that it is not healthy to ignore these emotions or to label them as wrong or bad or to make people feel guilty for feeling them. It isn’t healthy to constantly put on a happy face because that is what is expected and accepted by the world at large. Yes, sometimes you have to suck it up. But sometimes you don’t. And it is OK if you don’t. Especially during the winter when it is so cold and dark outside. As for me, I’m going to pour myself a nice hot cup of tea and start counting the days until spring: 50. How’s that for looking on the bright side!