I admit, I look pretty together. People come to me for advice like I have a wealth of knowledge. I wouldn’t necessarily say I have knowledge. I have experience that I gained from really just winging it. Every bit of parenting “wisdom” that I have? There was no real knowledge behind those decisions. There was gut instinct and a crapshoot hoping that things would work out. Sometimes, I just get lucky. That’s really all life and even parenting is, right? Just a crapshoot where sometimes you get lucky, but most of the time you’re just hoping to break even. Even someone as seemingly chill as I am have complicated layers of breakdowns and anger problems, that fortunately (but unhealthily) I can keep in check by ignoring them. I’m really good at that.

But really, it’s those inner layers that we need to pay closer attention to. There’s a distinct difference between just getting by (on an emotional level) and living through the day. It’s that difference that impacts the mental health and suicide statistics. Some people just give up “just getting by”, if they were even fortunate enough to get to the “just getting by” point. There’s also the “barely waking up in the morning”. Of course, these aren’t proper “clinical” terms. These are the realistic terms. Mental health issues aren’t cut and dry because people aren’t.

Ignoring issues are great until you get to the meltdown. When my iPod died, wiped itself of my entire music collection, then wiping my computer of said music collection, I melted down. It wasn’t the fact that this product died, even though there is a sweet engraving on it from my husband, it was about the music that I could never get back. It was about my reliance on this to help me through my writing struggles. Whenever I had writer’s block or needed to focus on my edits, I’d pull out my trusty iPod and things would melt away. Whenever I felt down and was struggling emotionally, I put on my headphones and listened to the music as my problems just went away with it. My music is my therapy, my writing assistant, my workout coach, and it was a love of mine. And it went away. It seems dramatic, but it’s gone. CDs that are no longer in my possession through bad luck and other misfortunes are now gone. It may not have been the thing behind my meltdown, but what it was is something that could’ve helped me prevent the meltdown or pick myself up quicker when I hit the “funk”. But… it’s not there anymore.

Realistically, it was a crutch. Some people ease their issues with medications. I’m lucky where I was able to have this crutch to help me. Even on the “barely waking up in the morning” days. Sure, talking about things would be easier. But who has time for that? Plus, I’m a natural recluse. When I have a problem, my first instinct isn’t to reach out, it’s to curl in. It’s to write it out. Sometimes I throw it out afterwards, sometimes I keep it and make something of it. I’m pretty sure the meltdowns in “A Special Place for Noah” was definitely an accurate representation of that time in my life. I like channeling emotions, not discussing them. I’d like to think that’s what makes me good at what I do. I’d like to also think that’s what makes me a good friend.

I’m here for you. I’m here to listen to what you need to say. I think one of the biggest problems today is that there are a lot of people struggling but no one feels like there is someone that they can talk to. While I relish in that solace on my difficult days, other people can only thrive when one is willing to give up an ear (or their eyes) for just a few minutes. If you don’t have anyone else, I’m here. Sincerely.