::how to be unwell well::

"You're doing really well and working super hard."

"You've totally been rocking out at this job."

"Wow, I definitely thought you've been here for longer. You seem like you’ve totally got everything under control."

"You're a natural with the kids and they seem to love you."

These were sincere remarks and ones that should send my spirits soaring and boost my confidence since I've only been doing my job for 4 months. Yes, I am young but I'm taking care of 5 little girls the best I can and they are still alive! (kidding) In all seriousness, I've been managing schedules, doing daily paperwork, dragging kids out of bed in the morning, pushing through 1st grade homework, dealing with the full spectrum of negative and positive behaviors, and everything else that comes with caring for little ones. It's been super intense and challenging to say the least. I've learned a ton about myself, kids, social work, and people in general. Like, how love is a choice not a feeling, to be creative when you're stuck inside with 5 active kids, how far I can be pushed physically, emotionally, and mentally, what my values are, what little kids truly are capable of, and what my breaking point is.

I broke down for the first time in my adult life. I started crying in my supervisor's office as I told her I was struggling mentally and emotionally and I wasn't sure I could keep doing my job. I recognized I had symptoms of anxiety and possibly depression and most importantly, that I needed help. My coping mechanisms weren't working and my mental un-health was deeply impacting my daily life. I wasn't capable of pulling it together by myself. I started seeing a counselor who has been helping me process and talk through my emotional struggles and baggage. I told close family and friends how I was really doing and asked for a lot of prayer. I was praying/ranting/crying out to God every day because I didn't know what else to do. In some way, I was at the end of myself and that absolutely terrified me.

Honestly, I wanted to run away. I wanted to leave my job so badly. I didn't want to get up at 6am and get my kids off to school. I dreaded the 5 hours between school and bedtimes when I'd have to take care of them and all their behaviors. My anxiety was exacerbated by my job and the work I do caused my anxiety to be brought to the surface in a way that I was finally forced to face it. But it wasn't caused by my job. No, I believe my anxiety is rooted in deeper fears and lies that have grown and festered over the years.

In the past, I've just managed to keep it under control and behind my mask. Now it had boiled over and all I desperately desired was to put the lid back on and run as far away from it as I could. But that wasn't possible in the logistical sense of not having a place to live nor a job lined up but also in the spiritual sense that I had to walk this trial of fire. God knew what I was bearing and He was working in and through it. So I endured through some of the hardest weeks, emotionally/spiritually/mentally, I've had in my short life. I knew God hadn't told me to leave yet even as much I longed to do so. I needed to stay where I was and face my anxiety, my incapability, my helplessness, my need for other people in order to survive. All of the things my capable, independent, strong self shrunk from admitting let alone actually doing.

As I attempted to process through my inner turmoil with a professor mentor friend, he said, "maybe this is you learning to be unwell well." He told me I didn't have to be "well", whatever that definition might be, all the time. It was okay to be unwell. It's okay to not be okay. I didn't have to "fix" myself all at once and return to my "normal" state of being. I'm still wrestling through this idea and don't have many definite conclusions. But I've been mulling on it ever since. I act like everything is okay and that I'm doing just fine which makes it extremely challenging to put down my mask and show how I truly am. More often than not, I try to carry on in a strong, solitary, and silent manner which what I actually need are hugs, tears, conversations, and being with people I love and who love me. My faith is hitting the road. Will I live out the vulnerability and community I say I believe in? Will I let down my guard and be unwell in public not only in private? Can I trust that He won't let me crumble the minute I say I can't do it alone?

I'm not posting this looking for pity. Rather, I'm writing to help break down the stigma around mental health disorders. So many of my nearest and dearest struggle with various mental health issues and I've joined their ranks. I'm taking a step outside my comfort zone and laying myself open in hopes that you can also feel free to be who you are, struggles, issues, problems, and all. One of the verses I've been clinging to is Isaiah 30:15, This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel says, "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it." It's true I wouldn't have any of it because I was too anxious, self-absorbed, and despairing. Now I'm seeking repentance, rest, quietness, and trust in this Lenten season. I'm continuing to pray, "kyrie eleison".