Honest Recognition

Hey, Brain. How are you?

I am fine

What about that outburst we had a little bit ago? That didn't seem fine.

I was just stressed. I'm fine now.

That has been happening regularly. Maybe something else is going on.

You're exaggerating. You're just trying to make something of nothing. I am strong and resilient.

I really think we should talk to someone.

Have you ever had a conversation similar to this with your brain? Or maybe with another person, like a friend or family member? I feel like this is the first major step to knowing yourself and healing: to honestly recognize your true state of mind. Maybe you really are fine. Maybe you are not fine. The hardest part is to be honest with yourself, especially if that means you have general or specific mental health challenges. Although I believe society is changing, many of the attitudes and beliefs towards mental health challenges in the past have been negative. It's no wonder we try to avoid the mental health labels.

In last week's post I mentioned that it took me a long time to recognize that I had real mental health challenges. For me it was the rock-bottom moment of losing my baby. I was heartbroken. I felt alone. I felt confused. I felt abandoned by God. Why would God let something like this happen when I was told that everything would be ok?

At some point in the weeks following the loss of baby Ephraim, my inability to feel happy led me to start an honest conversation with my brain. I had seen family members and friends who dealt with a range of mental health challenges. I knew the signs. Now I saw them in myself.

I pretended I didn't see the signs. I kept myself busy with my other children to avoid thinking about it. I told myself, "I am not broken! I am not (insert any common mental health label)." I was ashamed of the labels. I didn't want to be known as a person with depression or anxiety or whatever else I was facing because then people would look at me differently, treat me differently. I didn't want to be left out, but I also didn't want pity. I recognized the issues but concealed them. In those moments I pretended to be positive and happy. I couldn't let anyone know the truth. And if I ignored the issues, maybe they would just go away. We even moved to get away from a lot of the reminders. For a while I felt like maybe the issues had gone away.

8 months later I was pregnant. The same complication that caused me to bleed regularly with Ephraim happened again. I crashed! I didn't think I could face losing another baby!

I searched online for a doctor with a specialty in complications like mine. I found one at a local clinic. I went. I explained my history. I explained my fear. He said this time was different than the last time. He told me this time everything would be fine. He said the bleeding would slow down and eventually stop. He seemed totally unconcerned. I was skeptical. I had heard all this before.

The bleeding did stop around 14 weeks. The pregnancy was fine.

The delivery date came: Mother's Day. My fears stirred again. I was afraid I would hemorrhage during the delivery. A different doctor from the clinic was on call for deliveries that day. My fear doubled. "He doesn't know my history," I told myself. "I need him to understand and look out for the signs."

Looking back, I imagine he was thinking something like: "Lady, you are crazy! Everything is fine. Nothing is going to go wrong!" But never once did I feel like he brushed my fears aside. In fact, he thanked me for explaining everything. He confirmed that he would pay very close attention to potential complications. He also said things like, "You look like you know what you're doing," and, "You're a pro!" These comments helped distract my mind from the fear.

My Mother's Day baby girl came without incident. I don't know if the delivering doctor ever knew, but I think he was my first professional mental health ally.

After the birth I found myself able to push aside the struggles in my brain. I had someone wonderful on whom to focus all my attention. I felt happy!

Then I kept having the same impression: I was supposed to have another baby only 16 months after this one. I couldn't tell my husband. I feared. I kept it in as long as I could. He could tell something was wrong. I finally broke down and told him I felt we were supposed to have another baby, and soon.

7 months after Mother's Day I was pregnant again. And again I experienced the same complication. I switched doctors to see the one who delivered my Mother's Day baby. He didn't ignore my fears. I think he recognized my mental health challenges and established a trusting relationship so I had someone in whom I could confide.

16 months after Mother's Day baby, baby girl #3 was born without incident. But this time I think my brain had had enough. I was not happy. There was no joy in what I was doing. I was exhausted. I couldn't motivate myself to get anything done.

The breaking point came one morning after my husband went to work. I was sitting on the couch, newborn baby asleep in her bed, 16-month-old asking for breakfast. I was feeding her Goldfish one at a time. Goldfish for breakfast!!! As I sobbed on the couch, I called my mom. I told her I couldn't be a mom anymore. She asked if I could pack bags for myself and the kids and be ready to leave in an hour. I somehow found the motivation to do that. She showed up with my dad and sister, and we drove to Idaho.

I spent the next week in Idaho lounging around with my newborn while my family took care of the other kids. I had too many emotions in my brain, but I didn't understand them. I needed someone to explain them to me, but I was scared that someone would tell me that I was mentally ill. (At the time I had negative perceptions about mental illness, including related medications; my perception has evolved since then.)

When I came home I talked to my husband. He was honest enough to recognize that although he has a very logical brain, he didn't understand all the nuances of the human brain, especially in a mental health context. He helped me realize I needed to speak with someone who did understand the nuances.

I searched for a therapist to speak with. I went to 6 weeks of therapy with a local therapist. Over the 6 weeks he helped me learn some techniques to cope and to get through my days. I felt like he told me things would change, that everything would be fine, I just had to wait it out. He is probably a great therapist. We just didn't click. Or maybe I just wasn't ready to hear the truth and still feared the labels. But it was enough to get me through the next little while. I had enough strength again to push everything aside and focus on other things, mostly my children.

Almost 2 years later my husband had an eye-opening experience at work. A therapist came to teach his department about how to work in a team with multiple personality preferences. He explained what he learned about the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). (I'll explain more about this in a future post.) The thing that intrigued me most was this concept of personality preferences rather than strengths and weaknesses. The concepts seemed completely different from traditional mental health concepts and labels.

I reached out to this same therapist and asked if it was possible to visit him to explore these personality preferences. I visited with him several times in what I felt like was a continuous session spread over several weeks. I felt like it was a one-time deal, that it would not lead to a long-term relationship. But I felt comfortable with him. I felt like he understood me and validated my concerns. I learned a great deal in those few sessions.

About 6 months later, pregnant once again, my fears surged. I reached out to this therapist. I didn't know if he could actually accept me as a regular patient and actually asked him to refer me to someone he trusted. I just needed to talk with someone. Instead of referring me, he asked me to come see him. I've worked with him ever since.

Very early into our sessions, he helped me realize that I had Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I didn't like the label, but over time I've accepted it. He has helped me recognize other challenges that I have had for many years. As I have continued to visit with him and apply the techniques he has taught me, I have learned to accept other hard truths about myself. But through it all, this is one of the most important truths I have come to learn:

Mental health challenges are a part of me,
but they do not define me. I define me.

For me, recognition came over the space of about 5 years. It required me to overcome my fear of labels. It required me to change my perception of mental health issues. It required me to open up to trusted individuals. I didn't always like what I heard, but I learned to be honest with myself.

During my evolution in the face of these challenges, here are a few things that kept me going:

• My knowledge of God and his infinite love and mercy for all his children
• My knowledge of Jesus Christ and his perfect understanding of all my pain
• A continual belief in who they see in me, even when I can't see it
• A consistent effort to strengthen my relationship with them through daily prayer and study of the scriptures
• Opening up to trusted individuals, like certain family members, friends, and professionals

What about you? Do you fear knowing your true self? Do you avoid anything that may make you stand out from your perception of "normal people"? What have you done to help you face your true self? And while you've tried to figure it all out, what has kept you going?

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to share them publicly or privately with the links below.

Joy is possible.

Love ❤️, Jen

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