Tag Archive for: anxiety

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.

When Doing Nothing is Everything

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I’ve always been drawn to excitement, adventure, newness, importance. I want to be a part of big things, and make big, beautiful waves with my little life. In Sunday School I was always taught that God had a big plan for my life. And so my little heart dreamed real big, like being the next mother Theresa, or carrying Jesus in my womb, or being a movie star. But what I didn’t quite understand is that God’s big plans often look pretty small and insignificant to us.

We search and search for that big plan for our lives we’ve heard so much about. But in reality, we’re already living it. Many of us won’t do a “big thing”. We won’t cure cancer, or become a well-known vlogger, or be the chef at Buckingham Palace. And the truth is, If we end up in any of those places, chances are that isn’t the “big thing” in our lives anyway. Because the little things, those are really the big things.

As I sit here staring into the eyes of my rambunctious little toddler, I’m wondering about the big things. Last week I turned down the opportunity to audition for a play I desperately wanted to be a part of. But the timing felt wrong, so I didn’t. And that felt like a much bigger “thing” a much more fulfilling purpose then choosing to be home to put my baby to bed every night. But I know, those little things matter. The cuddles, the diaper changes, the many “I love you’s”, the hand holding while I’m trying to drive. Those are really big things.

Sometimes people tell me I should write a book. In fact, I have some beautiful people in my life that believe in my big dreams more than I do. But the truth is, I may write a book, I may not. I may become a known author like my dad, I may not. But I’m learning not to care so much about the outcome, the goal itself. The meat of our lives, the shaping of who we are, it’s all about the journey. The good the bad, it all somehow means something.

Yesterday I had three panic attacks. The day felt like a total flop. Yes, I got some things done, but how am I making any kind of difference in anyone’s life, including my own, if I can’t even get through an allergist appointment without sweating through my sweater. But every panic attack is teaching me. It’s teaching me that I can mom even through really hard moments of anxiety. It’s teaching me to cling to Jesus because my moments feel out of control and scary. And it’s teaching me to slow down, to care for myself, to ask for help, to breathe deep. Important lessons that should not be ignored.

If you know me at all you know that I love David. David from the Bible that is. I love his story. Lowly shepherd boy, doing the dirty work. How boring to be a shepherd? How stressful to keep the wolves away from the sheep? How chaotic to herd all those fluffy little things exactly where he needed them to go. But guys, David became a king, and I’m sure you can guess how all of those mundane tasks translated into him ruling a nation. And yes, he might have kind of messed up a bit by having a dude killed so he could sleep with his wife. But the point is, he was just a human guy, being a shepherd, and God used that.

Okay, but we probably won’t end up ruling a nation or anything right? So what if we’re just a shepherd our entire life and it doesn’t amount to anything bigger? It always amounts to something bigger, we might just not always see the bigger or be acknowledged for it. Our lives have a ripple effect, causing shifts we know nothing about.

A few weeks ago our pastor spoke a bit about Mother Theresa. Now there’s someone who did something great, right? We can all see it, and secretly, we all want to live a life with that much purpose. But what struck me was what he said about her mother. She wasn’t extraordinary to the human eye, but she always welcomed people into her home. She told her daughter from a young age “never eat a mouthful without first sharing it with others”. That example she set for her daughter changed the world.

The little things matter, they really do. Because in the end, they really are the big things. So in the mundane day to day when it all feels like a jumbled mess, or when you’ve lapsed back into unhealthy coping skills, remember that it’s all important. It’s all about the journey. Maybe doing “nothing” is everything.

When your joy has jumped ship.

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What a loaded season. For all of the joy and festiveness, there is equally as much pain and sadness. Wounds are that much deeper around the holidays. The loss of loved ones, sickness, mental health struggles, financial struggle, relationship hardship, loneliness. The holidays seem to open the wounds and pour salt directly on them. For many, the holidays are a time of memories and tradition, so when that is lost or doesn’t feel like it used to be, there is much pain.

I’ve experienced both types of holiday. The ones where joy and laughter abound, and the ones where I can’t keep my head above water. But as a general whole, I always feel stressed around the holidays. Expectations are high, and consumerism is rampant, and my heart gets bogged down with it all-trying to find balance, rest, and peace in the midst of it.

What happens when our joy has jumped ship? When we’re trying to find that bubble of wonderment in everything we do but it’s just gone missing? The messages around us are clear-do more, be more, buy more. I wonder what would happened if we moved into the lack of joy. If we didn’t find fear in it or judgment, but just acknowledged its presence. Could we find the bittersweet? That place where pain, joy, and gratitude meet? Could we honor the journey and not wish it was something different?

It’s okay if your joy has jumped ship. In fact, it’s normal. Most of us are faking our way through the holidays in one way or another (and life for that matter). Its just not human to keep it together all of the time. I would even argue that we were created to journey, not just to arrive.

Having joy in every circumstance is a tall order, one that gets a bit misunderstood I think. It’s more than a smile and a warmness in your belly. Joy can be a distant understanding of Gods ultimate goodness, or a fractured memory of a loved on peeping through the darkness. It might not look like you have any joy, but I bet it’s there-looking so much different than the Christmas decorations say it should look. It might be tattered, broken, dusty, dirty-but it’s there!

Your joy hasn’t jumped ship, it’s just in a different package than expected.

Love you guys, wishing you true peace and rest this holiday season and throughout your lives.

**special note. Let us be sensitive and overwhelmed with awareness and empathy for those around us suffering this holiday season.**

When Doing Nothing is Everything.

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I’ve always been drawn to excitement, adventure, newness, importance. I want to be a part of big things, and make big, beautiful waves with my little life. In Sunday School I was always taught that God had a big plan for my life. And so my little heart dreamed real big, like being the next mother Theresa, or carrying Jesus in my womb, or being a movie star. But what I didn’t quite understand is that Gods big plans often look pretty small and insignificant to us.

We search and search for that big plan for our lives we’ve heard so much about. But in reality, we’re already living it. Many of us won’t do a “big thing”. We won’t cure cancer, or become a well known vlogger, or be the chef at buckingham palace. And the truth is, If we end up in any of those places, chances are that isn’t the “big thing” in our lives anyway. Because the little things, those are really the big things.

As I sit here staring into the eyes of my rambunctious little toddler, I’m wondering about the big things. Last week I turned down the opportunity to audition for a play I desperately wanted to be a part of. But the timing felt wrong, so I didn’t. And that felt like a much bigger “thing” a much more fulfilling purpose then choosing to be home to put my baby to bed every night. But I know, those little things matter. The cuddles, the diaper changes, the many “I love you’s”, the hand holding while I’m trying to drive. Those are really big things.

Sometimes people tell me I should write a book. In fact, I have some beautiful people in my life that believe in my big dreams more than I do. But the truth is, I may write a book, I may not. I may become a known author like my dad, I may not. But I’m learning not to care so much about the outcome, the goal itself. The meat of our lives, the shaping of who we are, it’s all about the journey. The good the bad, it all somehow means something.

Yesterday I had three panic attacks. The day felt like a total flop. Yes I got some things done, but how am I making any kind of difference in anyone’s life, including my own, if I can’t even get through an allergist appointment without sweating though my sweater. But every panic attack is teaching me. It’s teaching me that I can mom even through really hard moments of anxiety. It’s teaching me to cling to Jesus because my moments feel out of control and scary. And it’s teaching me to slow down, to care for myself, to ask for help, to breathe deep. Important lessons that should not be ignored.

If you know me at all you know that I love David. David from the Bible that is. I love his story. Lowly shepherd boy, doing the dirty work. How boring to be a shepherd? How stressful to keep the wolves away from the sheep? How chaotic to herd all those fluffy little things exactly where he needed them to go. But guys, David became a king, and I’m sure you can guess how all of those mundane tasks translated into him ruling a nation. And yes, he might have kind of messed up a bit by having a dude killed so he could sleep with his wife. But the point is, he was just a human guy, being a shepherd, and God used that.

Okay, but we probably won’t end up ruling a nation or anything right? So what if we’re just a shepherd our entire life and it doesn’t amount to anything bigger? It always amounts to something bigger, we might just not always see the bigger or be acknowledged for it. Our lives have a ripple effect, causing shifts we know nothing about.

A few weeks ago our pastor spoke a bit about Mother Theresa. Now there’s someone who did something great, right? We can all see it, and secretly, we all want to live a life with that much purpose. But what struck me was what he said about her mother. She wasn’t extraordinary to the human eye, but she always welcomed people into her home. She told her daughter from a young age “never eat a mouthful without first sharing it with others”. That example she set for her daughter changed the world.

The little things matter, they really do. Because in the end, they really are the big things. So in the mundane day to day when it all feels like a jumbled mess, or when you’ve lapsed back into unhealthy coping skills, remember that it’s all important. It’s all about the journey. Maybe doing “nothing” is everything.

Why We Do Hard Things.

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I’ve wondered for as long as I can remember: Why do we have to endure hard things? Why can’t life be just a little bit fluffier, easier? Is it really necessary to suffer? I don’t presume to have all the answers, but through the years I have realized one thing: hard things are so necessary.

Yesterday Eric, Lilah, and I flew to Florida. No big deal right?

WRONG!

I hate to fly. I hate everything about it: the teetering above the clouds in a metal contraption, being stuck next to strangers in a small space, not being able to move around with ease, tiny cramped bathrooms. I’m a claustrophobic control freak. You do the math. Flying is not for me. And in case you don’t really believe it’s all that bad, I once got out of my seat during take off and demanded that the stewardess land the plane immediately (and no that wasn’t yesterday, I was 16 at the time).

This wasn’t necessarily a trip that I HAD to go on. It was a three day work trip for Eric, so it might seem a little odd that I would want to take my neurotic self and teething 16 month old to tag along. But something inside me knew I had to do it.

I knew it would be really really hard. I knew that I might have a million panic attacks, and maybe barely get through it. I knew it might be miserable. And deep down inside I just wasn’t so sure I could handle it. Especially with a baby. And I’ve been challenging myself to push back against those lies that I won’t make it through hard things. So here we are, in Florida. Yesterday felt like a nightmare, but we did it. We boarded that bare bones, possibly made of tin foil, aviation contraption, and we lived to tell the tale (I’m nothing if not dramatic FYI).

But why the hard stuff, right? Why the pain, the suffering, the adversity? If God was really good, wouldn’t He/She lighten things up a bit? There can’t really be a point to all this madness. Listen, I’m not going to get into the black hole question that is “why is there suffering”. But I think it’s important to note that without suffering we would be empty shells. The hard things are what teach us who we are, and who God is.

Anyone who really knows me knows that I believe in a complete correlation between knowing and loving ourselves, and knowing and loving our God. They work in tandem. And how do we really learn about ourselves and our God? By journeying through life’s ups and downs and realizing that we will make it, that God is with us.

Please hear me, I am not suggesting that this is in anyway easy. As someone who struggles with anxiety, depression, and has been an empath my entire life, I pray daily for “easy”. I still don’t want the hard. But when I take a deep breath and dig down deep, I know that it is the key to so much of what I am searching for in my restless soul.

What can you do today to embrace the hard? Can you let yourself feel sad, heartbroken, disappointed, angry, and still leave your hands open to what it is teaching? Can you take a deep breath and lean in, knowing that it might be the hardest thing, but you can do it. We will be more empathetic, more whole, more in tune with ourselves, more in tune with God and the world around us, because we have chosen to press into the hard.

Much love you on this journey my friends.

When your joy has jumped ship.

/in ,

What a loaded season. For all of the joy and festiveness, there is equally as much pain and sadness. Wounds are that much deeper around the holidays. The loss of loved ones, sickness, mental health struggles, financial struggle, relationship hardship, loneliness. The holidays seem to open the wounds and pour salt directly on them. For many, the holidays are a time of memories and tradition, so when that is lost or doesn’t feel like it used to be, there is much pain.

I’ve experienced both types of holiday. The ones where joy and laughter abound, and the ones where I can’t keep my head above water. But as a general whole, I always feel stressed around the holidays. Expectations are high, and consumerism is rampant, and my heart gets bogged down with it all-trying to find balance, rest, and peace in the midst of it.

What happens when our joy has jumped ship? When we’re trying to find that bubble of wonderment in everything we do but it’s just gone missing? The messages around us are clear-do more, be more, buy more. I wonder what would happened if we moved into the lack of joy. If we didn’t find fear in it or judgment, but just acknowledged its presence. Could we find the bittersweet? That place where pain, joy, and gratitude meet? Could we honor the journey and not wish it was something different?

It’s okay if your joy has jumped ship. In fact, it’s normal. Most of us are faking our way through the holidays in one way or another (and life for that matter). Its just not human to keep it together all of the time. I would even argue that we were created to journey, not just to arrive.

Having joy in every circumstance is a tall order, one that gets a bit misunderstood I think. It’s more than a smile and a warmness in your belly. Joy can be a distant understanding of Gods ultimate goodness, or a fractured memory of a loved on peeping through the darkness. It might not look like you have any joy, but I bet it’s there-looking so much different than the Christmas decorations say it should look. It might be tattered, broken, dusty, dirty-but it’s there!

Your joy hasn’t jumped ship, it’s just in a different package than expected.

Love you guys, wishing you true peace and rest this holiday season and throughout your lives.

**special note. Let us be sensitive and overwhelmed with awareness and empathy for those around us suffering this holiday season.**

When you’re a mom with anxiety.

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I have always been a little scared of being a mom, and at times very terrified. Anyone who has ever had a panic attack can identify with the need to have an escape at all times. What would happen if I had three kids in a shopping cart in a store and had to get out of there ASAP? I’d be stuck. What about when my kids get older and start to realize that mommy is afraid of certain things, breathes really fast in certain places? What about the days when my OCD has such a hold on me that I can’t get myself to stop organizing for even a second, plowing through my kids imaginative play in order to create my own illusion for control? And then the biggest fear, the one I don’t dare share; what if life becomes too much one day and I leave my babies behind?

I come about it honestly. My whole family struggles with anxiety. Having been a child of two parents who struggle with deep fears, I know first hand how it can affect our teeny people. No judgement-my parents did the very best they could and we all turned out pretty good, but I felt their anxiety and it greatly affected me. Knowing this, I am so very sensitive to what my anxiety could do to my baby girl. I wonder if she notices, even now, the differences in my days. But even if she can’t sense my deep feelings now, I know that someday soon she will. How do you show those hard parts of yourself to your innocent babies? How to you lay your cards all out on the table, lead by example in navigating hardships, all while not burdening them with your baggage?

How am I ever going to do this?

Before I had Lilah, my life was self centered. It had to be, it was how I survived. Every move was planned perfectly to avoid as much fear and uncomfortability as possible. I had it down to a science. I had a dozen excuses in my back pocket, knew my escapes to avoid certain situations. But I can’t quite do that anymore.

There’s more going on here now. I have to learn to do it a little bit differently now then before. If I want my babies to experience life to the fullest then I’m going to have to do some of those hard things. If I want to avoid losing my shit at home with a baby all winter then I’m going to have to go to those play dates, run those errands-stretch myself to reach those places.

But guys it’s really hard. It’s hard to recharge enough to get myself to the places I need to be and to do the things I need to do for my baby. It takes a lot of intentional time to myself, a lot of understanding exactly what I need in order to be at my best. And still some days, most days, lulu doesn’t get my best. She just gets what I’ve got to give in the moment, even if it’s teary snuggles in front of the TV.

I’m learning to have grace for myself when I don’t feel like I’m being the parent I should be. When I’m scared that I’m hurting my child by being a mess. When I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle raising her and any other babies we might parent. One step at a time right? Deep breaths, baby’s steps. That’s often all I have to give. Can I trust that is enough? Can I trust that my love for her is making the difference? I have to. Because my battle with anxiety is lifelong and it is difficult. The last thing I need is the pressure to leave that part of me out of my parenting game.

You can do this mamas. You can. We can. We will!

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?

A letter for the depressed days.

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DISCLAIMER: I am okay. I am very aware of myself and my feelings and have support systems upon support systems to help me navigate hard days. I know when to ask for help from my people. Thank you for your concern, but this is just me being vulnerable.

Anxiety is more what I am used to. Constantly repeating things in my head, wondering if I am offending anyone, doing enough, getting it all done. And so when depression seeps in, it terrifies me deep to my core. I am not quite sure how to navigate it, what to do with those incessant and gloomy thoughts, the fatigue, the all around effort it takes to enjoy what is around me. My mind tries to beat myself into submission, “get over it”, “your life is great-what are you sad about”, “you will never make it through this, you’re weak”. And with motherhood zapping me of energy and stealing my precious, much needed sleep, the voices are stronger, deeper, rooted in all the things I ever hated about myself.

This morning, as the rain beats down on our roof, I have felt this pull to bring these things into the light. To challenge all of the thoughts that grip me in these moments and to take control of them, even if just for a moment. Hear me when I say, I do not believe that depression is a mind game that you can just get over. I believe in medication to help battle chemical imbalances out of our control. Also, if you have access to therapy, do it. If you do not-message me. I am not a therapist, but I can be a friend.

Dear depressed me,

You are still you right now, just with a little depression attached. Feelings are just feelings- they don’t define you, remember? You get to decide how today goes. Bring the darkness into the light. Text your friends who get it, write about it, make an Insta video. Just don’t hide it, ok? You know that it makes it worse. And also, you’re not the only one who feels this way, so don’t believe that lie either. You are not weaker, a worse person, a broken person just because you are feeling this way. You are just you, battling your way through today because this is just what it is.

Remember all of the amazing things that you can do because you are so sensitive to the world? You’re empathetic, and creative, and passionate. You connect deeply with God because you have to cling to him/her to survive. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s a gift. You’re really awesome and you’ve got some really good stuff going on. This stuff, the hard stuff, is just a bump in the road, but it’s not the whole road.

You can do this, because you always do. Today is no different than those other days. One step at a time, deep breaths. There is another side and you will get to it.

Love love love,

Lizz

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.