I kind of feel like there's a place--much like the The Upside Down of Stranger Things--where lots of scary things are lurking, and though I absolutely do not want to go there, I end up there because I also want to know what is happening right there, beneath the surface. This is partially a political post, but it is also a getting older post, and maybe even a little bit of a mental health post, all rolled into one.
The politics part is scaring the daylights out of me. Unfortunately, much like many Democrats and/or Liberals, I simply couldn't believe that division and anger would win. But, alas, here we are. I don't want to go to X to read things that give me nightmares, but I also am afraid not to. If (when) something (else) terrible happens, I don't want to be someone who had buried my head in the sand. However, for the first time in decades, my anxious thoughts can take over.
The getting older part is the soul sucking sadness that happens when our own kids struggle. The last five years, for a variety of reasons, took a toll on my family, but we seem to be coming out of it. However, a few setbacks have me feeling both wise and old. I recently said to my daughter, "It isn't fair. There really isn't fair in how life unfolds. As long as people have free will, there's going to be chaos. The only thing you can do is sit down, cry a little, let some time pass, and move on to the next thing." How dark is that? Dark, yes, but I also feel this. At almost 51 years old, I feel like I've weathered enough storms to know that we have to bend, so we don't break.
The mental health part is probably what prompted this blog. I've always thought that it was interesting that we talk about "mental health" as if that only describes someone with a diagnosis. We ALL have mental health to look after--diagnosed, medicated, or not. By always using the word "problems" or "issues" after the words "mental health," I feel like we are creating an environment where we can't think about the relationship we have with our inner monologue, pile of baggage that exists from simply living, and the very complicated concept of identity.
Politics, getting older, and mental health are all converging in my life right now, and I am writing to say that I am fighting back. It is too easy to enter The Overwhelm. I am my families unsolicited life coach, and I'm applying my tried and true advice on myself right now.
Tomorrow is a new day.
There are not many things that don't look at least a little better in the morning. My kids--and most people's, I think, get wound up at like 10:00 at night. Everyone is exhausted, the day has taken its toll, and brains are racing. I listen, but in the end, some days are meant to be forgotten.
You're not for everyone.
While I find our family delightful, I've had the occasion to pull this one out. I know who I am. I am bossy, driven, talk too much, and I can seem aloof because I don't always get involved in the minutiae. But, I'm also whimsical, smart, a good friend, and loyal to a fault. When I start feeling the "otherness" of not being for everyone, I remind myself (and my kids), would we really want to be vanilla?
Savor the little moments.
When Zoey is home from college, inevitably me, her, and Oliver will end up piled on my six foot beanbag in my room. We look at Reels or Tik Toks, listen to music, or just hang out. We are squished, there's usually a point where I have to demand that Oliver stops poking Zoey in the ribs and for her to stop screaming as if it were murder. But it is our moment, and I love it.
This was a cathartic little writing exercise. My fighting back today looks like this post with a happy picture thrown in for good measure. Plus, we got the grant again, so Fall into Reading is yet another way to fight back.
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