Easter
h a p p y . h o l i d a y s . < 3
h a p p y . h o l i d a y s . < 3
hump day!!
I attend weekly group therapy with my family on Tuesdays and in that community I have learned that sometimes when we are doing reflection, we should look at the positives and assess whether they outweigh the negatives. That is not to undermine or compartmentalize (a word I hate btw) intolerances or patterns of inconsistency - but to be realistic. So when talking about my personal life I want to begin on a positive note! Now my short term memory is definitely shot, but I have been journaling. After due consideration, my best day of the professional work/school week was Wednesday of last week. I would like to share what that looked like, to anyone who wants to hear: from start to finish. Grab your popcorn!I guess that it really begins Tuesday evening with a preface: it is Spring Break. So that means one child is on break and they are both coming to work with me. That in itself is a luxury I am grateful for, though it can be trying when the sibling rivalry hits or the little one is having big feelings. But, that also means we can enjoy the evening a little longer and sleep in too. So we spent the night in North Cleveland. It did not mean that I had to wake up much earlier than usual, but makes for a longer commute which stresses me out on a regular day because my vehicle is not really street legal due to financial hardship. But, YOLO.
Life persists, so I must as well.
Who knows what time I woke up, but probably sometime around 6AM. I definitely made coffee, showered and brushed my teeth. Personally, I have an issue picking outfits on hangers: so I would have to stop by my house to dress for work on the way there. Which is fine because I almost certainly forgot something. Once I was good and awake, I ran a bath for my daughter and woke my son by giving him his OOTD. I bribed my daughter into the bath by promise of a happy meal - which worked! (Whew!!) Little to no tears were shed and she even let me do her hair without complaint. I collected the majority of our things, the kids got what was theirs and after loving on the chicken nugget of a cat that is Taco, we were out the door by 8:o5. Morning commutes are less stressful for a number of reasons, but I have found the morning officers in my city are less aggressive than that of the evening so I was pretty calm.
We made it home without flashing lights. I rushed to dress, do skincare and grab a bandana. I was probably about ten minutes late to an already accommodating job and I had to redress my daughter before she got out of the van. The oldest was in the doors before us, where we were all greeted by a 9 year old boy dressed as a robot and a colleague I am going to call Bumblebee.
It was an easy workday. I was busy with small tasks. There was no social work, no educating patrons and no adverse encounters - no unsolicited bugs or pests. I got to spend time outdoors with my daughter collecting sticks and flowers and nature things for the day’s Spring Break event. The kids did not fight and the program was epic. I was able to break away from the floor and make a bug hotel with my daughter, as her mother, not as a member of staff and we were all able to socialize with some friends in the community. We love that. Earlier that morning I had been given a poem, hand delivered by a long-time volunteer and I found a lovely piece of writing at my calming space. This day at work was a sort of organized chaos. It was memorable in that nothing heavy occurred, but it was largely peaceful despite the business of all entailed during school holidays.
Ok so the kids both behaved pretty well based on bribes. I promised the boy his happy meal if he was extra nice to his sister. It worked and after flashing lights - because shocker! I got caught for my registration - we headed home and I practiced yoga. Once I had gathered my courage again and could kind of breathe like a person not being chased by a dragon, we headed to McNasty's. They ate, I worked. It was peaceful and then by 6PM I dropped them off for Wednesday service at the church they attend. My son was nervous about a bully, so I reassured him that he was safe and spoke with his teacher.
Wednesday is my grown up day: cause frankly one meal and a drink or two is not why I am in a fiscal bind. I also work immensely hard and deserve time in tribute to that. So I met my boyfriend at a spot and ordered half a sammy and salad (something I asked for with some kinda entitlement), some rose and I think I read while I waited. Maybe I worked some? Who could say. My meal arrived and so did he and we shared a second drink and small talk and after I paid he took me to pick-up. By 8PM we arrived at Ingles before heading home, where we got desserts and I bought myself flowers. When we got home the oldest did his own thing somewheres and in my studio I painted a fossil for the summer reading program with my daughter at her easel and the boyfriend at my work desk. Us girls crashed out first in my room, my son followed shortly afterwards and J was found in the living room the next day.
Thrilling topics, I know. But if you stay tuned, maybe it gets spicy.
MTV Cribs, but it's the Projects
It has been brought to my attention that within the confines of social media I have managed to somehow not be transparent enough. I cannot pinpoint whether it comes down to control, manipulation or just loose morals either. But, since I have reached some type of popularity within my community that has created such a demand; I am going to start sharing my story because it really has changed lives (and not just mine). I will share some of the experiences that have shaped me and most notably those that have given me purpose so that I can continue to process my own emotions and maybe this data can serve as a resource for others.Friends, please know that I spent thirty years stuck in black and white; stuck in misery learning that I was surrounded by it's company. However, I have worked immensely hard to see the color in the last 5 and e v e n harder to prune the weeds in the last 3. Now it seems I have been ignoring a call to share how I got here and for that I feel embarrassed. I am truly sorry and am excited for this chapter of vulnerabililty. I feel that it will make begin to make me softer; something only my children really know of me.
Men's Mental Health: the Stigma and Avoidance
The stigma around mental health for women in the U.S. has declined dramatically in recent years, or been rebranded rather. Over the last century we have seen some stabilization of the unethical mental facilities that housed "hysterical," women, minorities and outcasts. Whereas these environments were then structured around philosophical centered care, over time the evolution of holistic approaches, and the introduction of serene therapy offices, as well as outpatient care backed by scientific policies have become standard. And mostly voluntary. However, for men the weight that they tend to carry, and the brand of their mental wellness has remained essentially untouched.
On one hand, it is possible that they consider that seeking help is somehow counterproductive or even a weakness. Many men do that while carrying the sole financial strain for growing families. That burden in itself is a wild load to carry alone in the economy of 2026, with growing unemployment and rising inflation. Right now, only 40% of the U.S. population will not see homelessness for a minimum of 2 weeks before the end of their lives and 10% of the population will die in that circumstance.
On the other hand, men do not communicate openly with their villages (if they are blessed by any at all). What I mean by this is that while women are encouraged to have open dialogues about their feelings and openly share within their circle: men avoid these feelings by repressing their fears, angers and sadness when given the opportunity to yap; allowing it to stack and stack and stack. They may find ways to cope, but it is likely that without therapy and real communication these methods are addictions. Let us not forget anything can be an addiction. Maybe they cannot sit down, they find themselves working when they are not on the clock. Maybe they doomscroll in the bathroom for hours or maybe they really do consume drugs like alcohol, prescriptions, etc.
Why is this? While there are a few enlightened and/or medically treated men, their Rx often doesn’t come assigned with work. They may go to a doctor with the what - their symptoms (if they seek help) - they get a blanket medication (or shopped for) and what should be a bridge turns into a wall. There are rarely therapists involved. So now these particular men are stacking stress and trauma inside a medically induced box.
As an advocate, this experience is frustrating to me because I cannot receive medicinal treatment without therapy at the practice I visit and the practices of my past (Texas included). Personally, my family and I (boy included) go to therapy weekly; happy or sad. I find it imperative to our wellbeing and quality of life.
In my experience, without doing the work there will be little benefit seen from medication. Especially, when the Rx has been sought out specifically and obtained. With the blanket medication, specific symptoms aren not being considered and while they may cause a calmness: it is often foggy. In my mind, therapy is crucial to defining the necessity of medicine for the mind- the why.
This is my encouragement to all men to consider seeking the same resources that exist for women. Sometimes there are few and far between, but I am unsure that treatment can be done properly when the why does not justify the what. And I am very sure, from experience, that when these issues are left bottled up, unaddressed, mistreated or all of the above it can lead to unpredictableness, volatile behaviors and destructive patterns. I have also observed, that in some cases, this may lead some men to unknowingly become the victim of domestic violence.
t i d a l s
It comes in waves
And sometimes those waves feel like tsunamis
But isn't it imperative that we ride them sometimes?
Not each one, but the tsunami category kinds
You can count yourself lucky when there are others paddling alongside
And blessed if they throw you life rafts
Because often, that kind of support becomes a surf board
And sadly, that support is next to nonexistent without sinkers
Take it like a shot, if you gotta cause --
With support, you transform depression into power
The ride propels you and when it returns
Because it will
Like quicksand or something or other
The bravado of self, the tacit knowledge becomes alchemy
And one day, that something or other
will be a light fog
Cured by hot coffee and hobby