Beating the Blues
When my daughter was first diagnosed, I walked around in shock.
For months that felt like years.
I stopped brushing my teeth. I stopped taking care of myself. I would look in the mirror and not recognize the person looking back at me.
A colleague told me I had lost so much weight so quickly that I looked “fragile.”
I kept busy. Overly busy.
I read everything I could get my hands on. I researched diet options. I cooked those foods on repeat—complicated recipes that took a long time to make, only to sometimes throw the entire meal in the trash.
I’m not going to say I felt hopeless. I don’t remember how it felt, if I’m being honest.
I remember it visually.
Maybe that’s what protects me from it a little.
It wasn’t until years later, at my therapist’s insistence, that I had to restart my own life.
I had to find my own happiness.
I had to stop waiting for her to get better before giving myself permission to have a life of my own.
I’m so glad she forced me to do that.
It feels like it took a long time to get there. But bit by bit, I started to rebuild myself.
It started with walks outside in the morning, without sunglasses.
I signed up for a weight-training class and built physical strength.
A class here.
A meditation app there.
Little pieces of myself started coming back.
Looking back, I put myself in a Time Out. I wish I could go back in time and intercept that self-inflicted punishment sooner.
Because that’s what it was, right?
Not intentionally. Not consciously.
But somewhere along the way, I had decided that because my child was hurting, I wasn’t allowed to be okay.
And maybe that’s something we don’t talk about enough.
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THE EXTRA QUESTION
What do you do to beat the blues?
Not the big, complicated answer.
What’s the little thing that brings you back to yourself?
A walk?
Music?
A ridiculously good cup of coffee?
A workout?
A friend?
Five minutes alone in your car?
I’d love to know… drop a comment. Or just think about it. Either way- be good to yourself too.
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