It's Okay

A year ago, I phoned a friend of mine for no other reason than I was emotionally spiraling and I needed someone to talk to.  I knew I could count on this friend, a seasoned adventure sports athlete and former Marine, because these are the kind of people who really understand what it feels like to fall completely apart, and he said exactly what I needed to hear:

It’s okay to not be okay. 

At the time, I was unknowingly battling a double ear infection and mononucleosis simultaneously.  All I knew was that my body was being hijacked for about the umpteenth time in the past year, and I couldn’t handle the battle on my own any more.  I was down for the count, and I was at my wit’s end.  Worse than the fever, the fatigue, or the pain I was suffering was the feeling that none of this was in my control.  Succumbing to illness, be it above or below the neck, is a act of surrender that can crush a person’s spirit.  It means the demons are winning (if only temporarily) and it’s terrifying.  I was terrified.  I felt unworthy of anyone’s time or attention--unworthy of care.  My greatest fear (since 2008, when I thought I might be permanently partially paralyzed by a disc-related nerve injury) was that I would be a burden to my loved ones.  I know first-hand how seriously a family is affected by one person’s illness/injury.  My mother has cared for my quadriplegic father since a fall from the attic broke his neck in 2002.  My greatest fear was that my health would take an undeserved toll on my own spouse, and I was determined to be forever strong and healthy under any circumstances.  In my mind, it was NOT okay to not be okay.  But this time, again, I didn’t know what was wrong—all I knew was that I was not okay, and I couldn’t cope.  And so my friend simply said, over and over again…

It’s okay to not be okay.

Another friend (friends are really great, by the way) once helped me deal with my fear of burdenship by putting it more bluntly:  we’re all burdens to one another.  Think about it--your children are a burden to you, and you are a burden to your children.  Maybe it’s not like that all the time, but at some point we will all be a burden to someone we love.   When the burden is reversed, we welcome the chance to care for our loved ones.  Nothing makes a person feel more worthy than providing care for a friend or family member in need.  Like we learned from ‘Avenue Q’ – “When you help others, you can’t help helping yourself.”

Conversely, but for similar reasons, sometimes you need to distance yourself from friends (even the best ones).  Sometimes you’re all peopled out from, say, working with teenagers day in and day out for the last 9 months and you really need a day (or a week) to crash on the couch (or hammock) with Netflix (or audiobooks) and cats (or flowers).  On days like this, you owe literally no one any explanation for why you are skipping out on whatever boozy brunch or baby shower you were invited to this weekend.  It’s possible to love your friends from a distance and love yourself in solitude at the same time, if that is what you need.  They will understand. If they don’t, just show them this blog post.  If they still don’t understand…well, maybe you need different friends.

When a teenage student of mine (an extremely successful, hard-working student) was recently collapsing emotionally under the weight of her impending graduation, her parents offered to let her stay home for a day.  She turned down the offer, and came to me later that morning in tears, asking if maybe she should call them and ask to go home.  I urged her to do so.  “It just feels so silly, staying home just because I’m stressed out,” she wailed.  It was like looking in a mirror.  I told her: “Every grown-up has done this at least once—it’s called a mental health day, and you are completely entitled to one.  Now you’re a grown-up.  Welcome to the fold.”

And that’s when I realized how hard it is to listen to my own advice.  It hurts the ego to believe the world won’t stop turning because you missed a day of work.  It hurts the ego to admit that you need a day just for yourself.  It hurts the ego to realize that you can’t do it all on your own.  It hurts the ego to have to ask for help, even if the help is just a teary phone call.  It hurts the ego to admit that your body and brain are a big sloppy mess of bones and tubes that sometimes just don’t work the way they’re supposed to, and that’s NOT YOUR FAULT.  But guess what—the ego is a whiny baby, and it needs to grow a thicker skin, because doing absolutely nothing is, sometimes, one of the hardest things you can do.  Taking time to rest is one of the most grown-up things you can do.  Asking for help is one of the kindest things you can do.  Showing weakness is one of the strongest things you can do.

To quote Julia Cameron, “Treating yourself like a precious object will make you strong.”

Yes, wellness is Crossfit and walking and yoga and kombucha and green smoothies and vitamins.

And wellness is also knowing how to recognize when you’re not okay.  Wellness is knowing that sometimes the bear eats you, and maybe you just have to let it win for a day.  (And sometimes you need to actually go to a doctor and get some bloodwork done—it’s a fine line between “rest and fluids should fix you up right” and “JK you have strep”.)

Wellness is knowing that it’s okay to not be okay.  Some things are, in fact, out of your control.  Learn to recognize when you’re not okay, because it’s the only way you’ll ever learn to find your way back.


Image source:  https://me.me/i/im-fine-when-a-girl-says-im-fine-5997742