It's OK to not be OK sometimes: Accepting our mental health can be a great first step

I am a busy lady. I work fulltime. (And, truth be told, I work far more than 40 hours a week; but hey, that’s the news business.) I’m a single mom with two teenagers. I cook. I clean. I launder. I try far too often to try to do it all and do it all perfectly. Does that happen often? No, never. But, hey, I’m doing my best.

I’m not listing the multitude of duties I have in any given day to brag. Instead, my point is quite the opposite. From the outside, it can be easy to think, ‘Gee, that girl is on it.’ ‘She gets it done.’

And she does. I mean, I do. Most of the time.

But the side of me very, very few people see is that “other” side. I think the universe is all about balance. For every positive, there is a negative. For every up, there is a down. For every hard-working, busy mama, there is a very tired, severely depressed girl who sometimes just needs time to herself.

I have had clinical depression for … jeez, I guess forever. If you mean a “diagnosed” version? It’s been since college. So, yeah … a long time. I’m not ashamed to say that a balance of multiple prescription medications helps me to stay functional each day.

I suffer from two different hormonal imbalance conditions additionally, (PCOS and hypothyroid) that impact that fragile sanity constantly. I never know when a big, big up or a big, big down is just around the corner.

Let’s take the holiday season, for example. I spent weeks preparing with shopping for gifts, baking of cookies, decorating inside and out. It is the basic planning for Christmas for most any mom. We are the magic-makers that create that special holiday spark, and for me this year, that was tough. (See my previous discussion on this here.)

After the hoopla was over, and after the dust settled? Well, I’ve spent the last three days straight in bed. I’m not physically sick, though that can often come along with my downs. I’m not ill, at least not in a way that anyone can see. I’m just depressed.

My children are visiting their father. The chaos of family visits is over. And now, I’m home alone and have some down time. I have a break from work. I have no where I really need to be. So, what do I spend it doing? I suppose taking that “down” part a bit too seriously.

I don’t want to get dressed. I don’t want to leave the house. (Heck, if I didn’t have to use the bathroom, I wouldn’t really leave my bed.) I’m processing, I suppose. I’m trying to think about a lot of painful emotions floating through my brain.

I had a fabulous holiday time with my kids. We enjoyed an absolutely perfect secluded cabin rental, with a fireplace and a hot tub. We had Christmas snow, and the kids’ favorite meals. It was really the most ideal time, and I cherish every minute I get to spend with them. The older they get, the fewer and farther between they really are, so I am forever grateful for times like these.

So, why am I sad now? Why do I feel so down? I don’t always know. I can’t always pinpoint one single issue. (This particular spiral had a clear and obvious catalyst. I won’t get into that now, since it’d take an entire additional column, or perhaps a novel.) But sometimes, the sadness just overcomes me, and I’m not sure why.

Overall, I am a grateful girl. I am blessed. I have a roof over my head. I have a car that runs. I have two amazing humans, that I even had a hand in creating, that I’m so incredibly lucky to have in my life. I have plenty of reasons to be happy. And I often am.

But, when I’m not, that’s OK.

I like to have a purpose in my writing. They may just be weekly columns, sharing (and sometimes venting) my opinions. But most times, I hope that you can relate, or understand, or even see another’s perspective. And this one isn’t about all the hard work I do. It isn’t about gaining sympathy for my conditions. Instead, I think it is important to talk about our mental health, even when it’s not pretty. (And believe me, three days from clothes or a shower is anything but pretty!)

I have depression. I get sad. Sometimes, I stay in bed for days. And you know what? That’s OK. I have coping mechanisms. I have friends to vent to and loved ones who care. I have options to seek professional help, should I need it. (And I do appreciate not every person can do that.) I have my four-legged baby to keep me company, snuggling away every minute with me.

But the first step is just accepting it. Talking about it. Normalizing that we are imperfect humans. We are beautifully broken. And that’s OK. We have mental health crises, and that is OK.

So, if you need a day (or three or five), I am not judging you. If you need a 10-minute break to just breathe? That’s OK. Take it. If you function thanks to an annual getaway. Go! It’s OK.

Wherever you are in life, and whatever is on your plate, just know that even the most “put-together” people really aren’t perfect. As hard as I work toward it, I know it is an unattainable goal. And that … yep, that is OK.

Whatever ways you’ve found to get through this challenging and crazy world, do them. It is always OK.