A Personal Note

This post is so moving. So real, so true and the reason that I turn to this blog on a daily basis (and to this post quite often). To everyone going through their own daily life struggles – I wish you love, laughter and a bit of wine to get you through. My own struggles have consumed me the last year. From a bi-polar sister-in-law that I had to take care of, fertility issues and a husband who was dealing with his own medical issues and eventual brain surgery. Goodness – what a year. I’ve needed a place, person and community to turn to and I’m lucky that there is CupofJo. Thank you for everyone sharing their stories and experiences, it helps to know that I’m not alone and 2018 has to be a better year. Sending lots of positive love to all.

I’m way late to this, but this post has been rolling around in my head for the past few months and I just had to say something. Of course I don’t know specifically what you’re dealing with, but I’m a grown-up version of that kid going through difficult times, and it only recently occurred to me how it probably affected my parents. This is kind of long, apologies in advance…

For one, I’ve had a mild/moderate/severe (depending on the day) stutter since I was 3, and my parents took me to specialists and therapists, and had to watch me struggle with less-than-kind peers and strangers, and to deal with the emotional ups and downs that came with this thing that is a constant source of anxiety and stress for me, while being largely brushed off as something to joke about by the larger world that makes assumptions about people who don’t speak “normally” (for one, I was told by my guidance counselor that I wasn’t really “college material”) must have been heartbreaking. Having to stay up with me while I cried about an oral presentation I had to give, or watching my confidence deflate when yet another person jokingly asked if I forgot my name.

I’ve also dealt with severe depression and anxiety since I was a kid, but only got up the nerve to deal with it when I started graduate school (what now, guidance counselor?) at 25. Fast forward to this past year, and two hospitalizations later, I’m now on five (5!) medications, see a therapist every week, and am seven months into regular electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) with ketamine infusions.

I was hoping to tell my parents about the first hospitalization at the “right” time when I was home for Christmas, but a friend’s mom spilled the beans first. That kicked my carefully plotted out schedule into high gear, and they were sort of hit with all of it at once. The first six weeks that I had ECT, it was three days/week, and my parents came down for the first two weeks, one at a time. The procedure is done under anesthesia, and causes serious memory loss. I can only imagine what it’s like to see your kid be in such an awful place that this treatment that leaves you confused and wiped out is your best last hope; to find out (from someone else, no less) that your kid wanted so badly to die that they used an x-acto knife to give themselves ridiculously deep cuts that were still not done healing when the ECT started. It kills me to think that they might blame themselves for any of it, when they’re a big part of the reason I decided to Uber myself over to the ER that night instead of finishing what I had started.

And now I’m tearing up at my desk thinking about how scary it must be to be a parent. Whatever you and your family are going through, you’re all so, so lucky to have each other and I hope your support system in real life is as amazing as the one online! Sending you so much love.

I also used to say, “It’s not my story to tell,” in reference to my husband’s and children’s mental health issues, and no one knew how I was suffering silently. I eventually went to a support group for family members of people with mental health issues, and the leader stressed that it IS at least partly my story. I live and struggle with this every day, even if I am not the one with the diagnosis. There are still details and aspects that I don’t share out of respect for my family, but I am starting to feel more free to share my own struggles and concerns related to my family’s mental health because it IS my story as the person who loves them most. Best wishes to you and your family.

When I feel bad, I use to think, like you, that everyone has a personal story behind them, not gentle, sometimes… and that helps me not to feel alone in the world.
I can see that you are strong, and, whatever that is happening to you at this moment, you will find the way to hadle it, I’m sure. So, be confident. There are a lot of people, around the world, praying for you.
XXOO, from Spain.

Jo, your blog has been a warm, happy, womanly home for me. I love it so much. I come here, well, all the time really, but especially when I just need a hug. I am so thankful for you and for this wonderful community.

Wanted to share a piece of advice I got from my dad. He counsels people dealing with trauma and major anxiety, and once offhandedly mentioned a suggestion he gave to a client: when you’re out, look for people being nice to each other. Having sweet interactions. Look for friends getting coffee, or a person holding open a door, or strangers saying “how you doin”, or a dad kissing the top of his daughter’s head. And in Brooklyn, if you look for them, you get to see these tiny magic interactions everywhere. It’s gotten me through moments of secret darkness; it makes me well up with love for all these sweet, fragile, striving people around me; and for the gentle, kind man I learned it from. I hope it can bring comfort to someone else who needs it.

Much love to you Jo, as you navigate this time. Thank you for this wonderful, warm home/blog of yours.

Jo,
You are loved.

Thank you Joanna for this heartfelt and authentic post. I too have my own secret struggle with my eldest (5). Reading through these comments one theme seems to keep re-emerging… our sons have us for mothers for a reason. We can help them deal with the struggles, and we will. Love to you and your family at this tough time. Know we are all with you.

I am so grateful that this is a place that feels warm and safe when the world feels harsh. My boyfriend and I broke up this week and it seems that everywhere I look, everyone is cheerful and poised. So sad for all of the aches shared here, but thankful to know I am not alone in my sadness and heartbreak. Love you to all. xo

I have two boys too, my oldest a few days ago was finally diagnosed a day after his fifth birthday with Aspergers and a few other things that go hand in hand. It has been a very difficult, isolating at times and confusing 5 years. When I was at my lowest, most exhausted, dealing with his distress and his constant attacks, I many times felt (was) judged, given awful condenseding though well meaning advice. This has changed me, I am stronger, less judgemental, (I think I would have once offered unhelpful advice, smiled disapprovingly, thought myself the better parent). But I am also sadder and tired, My love is stronger than it all. (Most of the time)! I now am learning as much as I can. I am determined to teach my beautiful son love and acceptance of whom he is and others by example.

Thanks so much for your post I have never commented before x

Joanna,
Whatever it is you are worrying about you will work through it. Please know that I am sending you positive thoughts and prayers your way.

Thanks so much for sharing, Joanna. Sending you much strength and love… xx

Dear Joanna,
I’m a long-time reader and first-time commenter compelled to write today because of the honesty of your post. I am so sorry to hear your family is facing a challenging time. As many other commenters have shared, I understand the pain and heartache you are going through. My son has faced a complex anxiety problem combined with a learning and attention difficulties since preschool (he’s now 14). Understanding and watching his struggle — and knowing we can’t “fix” it — has been one of the hardest things I’ve endured, but it’s also a beautiful lesson in acceptance and love. I was in NY over the weekend and went to see (and sobbed my way through) Dear Evan Hansen; so much of it resonated with me as a parent of a child who doesn’t exactly fit in. Based on the sobs in the audience, it seems I’m not alone.
“Even when the dark comes crashing through
When you need a friend to carry you
And when you’re broken on the ground
You will be found”
Sending you so much love….

I am very aware that you aren’t a religious person. My heart goes out to you in your time and struggle and this comes from a place of only wanting to help. It sounds like you are lost are in need of comfort from something bigger than us. Try praying or reading philosophy or whatever it is that you believe in in your higher power. Whether that’s Oprah or the sun or a lizard king named Zorp (from parks and recreation, remember?;)) I bet that will give you strength and comfort.

Oh yes. I think I might have a hunch about what it is you’re going through, but the time will tell.

Just finished watching “Big little lies” finale – the brilliant, dark TV miniseries with an AMAZING cast (Reese Witherspoon, Nicole Kidman, Alexander Skarsgard and many others) and it is exactly about how we’re all trying to paint this perfect polished picture about our lives to those surrounding us, while only opening up helps us grow and evolve.

Be strong and love your kids no matter what, that’s all that really matters.

Thank you for your honesty. Virtual love to the very real you.

One of my children has some definite challenges and I so relate to struggling with keeping privacy for his sake and finding help and support. There are a couple of online groups that have been a huge help and allow me to feel like I have the support of parents with similar struggles without having to put it all out there. Hugs to you. On my toughest days I remember that we are his parents for a reason and through it all he will come out with the understanding that he is loved, deeply and profoundly by his family and nothing that happens with the other things in his life can take that away.

Thank you for sharing here and for the community you have built. I have three sons and our oldest, who is now 7.5, has taken us on an immensely difficult, heartbreaking, and beautiful journey since his birth. His struggles are “invisible” and feeling alone with them, and constantly worrying about how he will move through his life with them, has nearly wrecked me many times over the years. But this journey has also made me appreciate every thin slice of joy I get to sit with. Thank you for sharing.

I was thinking about this just a few days ago: what if we viewed our own lives the way our friends view it?

I had a lovely conversation last summer with a close friend. I was visiting for a few days in the middle of a big life upheaval. Mostly good stuff, but I was moving across the country and starting a big new job after earning a big, hard grad degree. My friend and his spouse live in a city I’ve always dreamed of living in, but there aren’t jobs in my field there, and I have restructured most of my life around the career I love. So I spent a few days with them in this dreamy summer landscape, staying in their guest room and getting to marvel at all the little details of their life together. We’ve been friends for long enough that I know where they came from, how they’ve grown, how this is what they’ve wanted for so long, the sacrifices they’ve made to be there. And it all seemed so good it felt like eating dessert.

The last morning of my trip, I ate breakfast with my friend at a neighborhood cafe. Sea breezes and sunshine and eggs. How would I get back on the plane?? He and I talked about how we each *felt* about our lives right now, not just getting up to speed on the “what”. My friend told me how much he admired my courage, how he marvels at my strength to pick up my life and turn it in any direction I decide. That he has always been a person who stays in one place, and he sometimes wishes he could shake that and hop on planes with the ease that I do. That I seem to know and trust that I’ll create the community I need when I get where I’m going — and that I’ll continue to cultivate my cross-country friendships, the way this one now is. I was floored. Wasn’t *he* the one with the dream life?

It should come as no surprise that this is also the friend who frames his own marriage as an ongoing journey rather than a “happily ever after.” This was the most kind gesture I received from anyone when my long term relationship ended. This friend talked with me about what he finds hard about his relationship even though it’s a great one, and one that he’s committed to for life. It was so comforting to know that there was nothing “wrong with me” for finding relationships hard.

Our friends (and our online communities) are there to show us we are not alone. I happy-cried when my friends welcomed their new baby this winter. And then of course I had that twinge. Here I am, stumbling through the harrowing world of dating in your 30s, feeling like a battered ship in a rejection storm. And here are my friends, living the beautiful sea breeze and sunshine life, now with a perfect little newborn. It’s exactly what keeps me up at night: worrying that I’ll never have that version of a full life, the one with a partner and a baby. But I’ll skype them this weekend, and I’m sure they’ll tell me all about what’s bone-achingly hard about parenthood, and I’ll tell them not just about the heartache of the single life, but also all the funny stories that go hand in hand with the ache. They’ll have that little twinge too, when I talk about deciding as I was heading out the door last weekend to eat dinner in a town an hour away, or when they think of the thrill of having kissed more than one person in the last few months. My life is not their lives. But blissfully, we have each other, and they are one of my anchors in my own storm, just the way I suspect they see me as an anchor rather than a wrecked ship.

And in case it wasn’t clear, so many readers and I think of this blog as one of our little slices of joy. So thank you!

Sending you and your family love and good wishes. Hope you feel the love from all your readers!! Xo

I wrote on my blog about the death of my mother and my broken wrist. It is somehow easier to write as I am not very good to speak about personal issues. But of course I don’t have so many readers as you….

I was thinking of you today, and how I so appreciate your ‘offerings’ which are so kind, perceptive, fun, and reassuring! Then this. Today we had a visit from a specialist in Sensory Integration for children. I can feel my brow unknotting, and my breathing relax after a year of worries, research and upsets. To find someone who gets what’s going on, who is supportive and kind, and who will work with us and Kindy, and school, who will advocate for us… this is a huge weight lifted. My thoughts are with you and your family, I hope things get easier. xxx

I’ve followed people, blogs, instagram feeds have come and go… I’ve left people’s social media mainly because it can make me feel less about my life (and I have a lovely, full, happy & complicated life). You have stayed, I am a mother, we’re the same age and I never tire of your angle, your honesty and articles. Thank you, thank you, thank you x