It’s okay not to be okay.

My family and those close to us already know this first bit but I’ve decided I’d share it with you because it’s raw and real and feeling depressed and broken isn’t talked about enough; grief isn’t talked about enough. The day following my son’s funeral I had a breakdown and decided in that moment that I felt like I no longer wanted to be on this Earth anymore. My pain was too much, it was too raw and unbearable in that moment of time. I was utterly and completely broken. I felt like I was beaten to my knees and I just couldn’t get back up again. The thought of going forward in life without my son was just a thought I didn’t think I could bear... But the father of my son stopped me. He stopped me before I could make any irrational decisions. He stopped me before I let my emotions take my life. I spent that night at the hospital. It seemed like I had to repeatedly explain my pain to everyone that came in the room - the social worker, the psychiatrist, the doctor and whoever else wanted to walk in and ask me what was going on. I had this feeling of unbearable pain that I felt like I had to just keep reliving. A part of me felt good talking about it but another part of me was just so angry I didn’t care to keep explaining myself. I knew I was broken but the more I talked about it, the more I just felt like no one understood how I felt. Why would they? It’s not normal for a mother to bury her child. It‘s just not natural. Children are supposed to outlive their parents. But I think this is when I realized I was going through a pain not many other people ever get to know, and wow was that a thought to take in. Because then it shifted to why me? Why my baby? And everything else that comes rolling through your mind when grief takes hold. I experienced the loss of my child at 20 years old. Most people never experience that loss. And how lucky you are if you haven’t... I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. It’s a pain that I’ll never be able to explain and an emptiness that never goes away. And honestly, I didn’t know how to cope with it, I didn’t know how to control my emotions, my anger, my sadness, my frustrations. But who would? No one can ever be prepared for the loss of their child, even knowing beforehand that it’s coming. No one. But I spent the next few days reflecting on those thoughts and after speaking with a psychiatrist that night... and having my whole family by my side, I decided I didn’t want to feel like that anymore. My family just wanted me to feel better and hell, so did I. In the moment, I didn’t care what any of them had to say but then I realized I just lost the biggest part of me and I didn’t want to lose anymore. I didn’t want my family to lose anymore. I didn’t want to fall any deeper, because if I did... I think we were all afraid I wouldn’t get back up again. So, in those following weeks - 4 to be exact, I spent everyday at a Partial Hospitalization Program at my local hospital, Monday through Friday (8:30a - 2:45p). This program is a mental health program but in a group setting. In this program, you are surrounded by many different individuals who are all fighting their own battles daily. You work with many health professionals throughout the days to learn how to cope with and manage your mental health. And I made a choice. A choice to get up everyday during my darkest time and get help. To connect with other people who also were vulnerable and needed help. To share our struggles with one another and accept help. And I’m so glad that I did. On January 24, 2019, I graduated from this program.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn't terrified to graduate and be without all the people who had been there helping me everyday, to get through the roughest time of my life but if there was one thing I did learn in all of this is that change can be a good thing and that I was stronger than I thought, so it was time for me to take this journey head on, on my own and use what I had learned.

Many of you may not know this about me but I am Bipolar. Bipolar Disorder is a condition that affects the brain in a way that can cause extreme mood swings that vary in length. This means I have episodes of manic highs and very depressive lows, both at an extreme level when experienced.

About 5 years ago, I was misdiagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and was put on anti-depressants. These medications did work for me somewhat but at times, it would only handle the depression and send me into manic episodes. About 3 years ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I started on new medication and shortly after my son was born I started going to therapy weekly. Not too much longer after being diagnosed though, my son was diagnosed with a severe brain infection.

At times, I was able to manage my mental illness fairly well... but other times I was not able to manage it very effectively.. especially as my life became very stressful and I was very vulnerable. Most of these times, I wasn’t able to manage it at all. Living with bipolar, just like any mental illness, is something you have to learn how to manage each day. It takes practice and it takes time. It also takes a willingness to learn from yourself too, though.

Along with Bipolar Disorder, I have also been diagnosed with PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). The traumatic events I had endured over the 5 months my son was sick are more severe than some of you may think. I’ve shared a lot but believe me, I have not shared everything. A lot of things were things that cannot even be shared, they were things you had to have been there for to feel for yourself. And even then you wouldn’t have been able to feel the depth of it as his mother. The things I saw, experienced, felt, and heard are things I will never forget. As I am so lucky to have had 5 months with my beautiful son, I will tell you, it was certainly not easy. The endless nights of no sleep, stress, worry, anxiety, sadness, fear, anger and every other emotion you could possibly feel as each day went by and I spent everyday worried it would be my son’s last. But the time spent with him will ALWAYS be worth it. Every moment was worth it to have gotten the time that I did with him.

In the week following my son’s passing, I had a few depressive manic episodes that were very extreme. One I mentioned above, the night after my sons funeral... I was angry, upset, and hurt in a way I hope no one will ever feel and I had no idea how to handle any of it. I had not been managing my mental illness either... and then I lost my son and it broke me. Broke me in every way you could possibly think of. I will admit, I had officially hit rock bottom. I reached my breaking point and then some. I was at the lowest I had ever been. At that point, I knew enough was enough and that I needed to learn how to cope with my loss in healthy ways and how to manage my mental illness. Nothing is harder than battling with your own mind every single day... then add grief on top of that... my mind was spiraling out of control. I was beyond broken and lost. There’s no instructions on how to deal with losing your child, or any loss for that matter. Grief isn’t a straight line and it’s carried with you every single day and everywhere you go.

As each day goes by, I think of my son and I think about all that he went through, the days he got to spend with us, the unconditional love he got to know and feel but it is so hard to not think about all he didn’t get and won’t ever get. Seeing and feeling what I have has forever changed me... in some ways not so good but in most ways, for the better. I have learned to look at life so differently now... I’ve learned to live my life fuller and happier, don’t sweat the small stuff, learn from mistakes and grow from them as well, focus on and take of yourself always, accept the things you cannot change nor control but the courage to change the things you can, learn to love yourself because you are amazing and you are here for a reason, live your life for you because YOU are the most important person in your own life, appreciate the little things in life but always remember the little things are also the big things, admire the beauty of this world, be open-minded and willing to accept change, love hard and appreciate what you have while you still got it, take pictures of the moments you love, sing, dance, cry, when you get knocked down, don’t stay down but more importantly, even when you feel like giving up, ALWAYS keep pushing yourself and always keep moving forward. You pick yourself up and you keep going. My son may not have gotten today but I did. We did. And I am going to make what I can out of the days that I get on this Earth. I will continue to live for me and James.

I am my own reason but... My son is also my reason. I think of him and think “I want him to be so proud to have me as his mother.” And I have no doubt that he is looking down on me right now, with his cute smile saying how proud he is of his mommy. My babyboy may not be here physically but he is always with me and being his mother makes me want to be the best me that I can be. Healthy me is the best me and it feels so good. My family deserves a healthy me. I deserve a healthy me. And to be honest, this is the happiest I have ever felt about myself and it’s ironic because I had to go through the worst time of my life to get here and am suffering from a loss I will never fully recover from. But in the darkest of days is when I was able to find myself and that is something I will always be proud of. I found strength in my struggle and I will continue to keep pushing forward to be the best version of myself that I can possibly be. I could choose to let my struggles weigh me down but again, it is all a CHOICE. You can choose to stay down or you can choose to get up, get yourself together and keep going. Living with a mental illness is hard. Living with a loss you will never recover from is hard. But you choose how you decide to look at the world and how you decide to live with your struggles. Life is all about choice and you are the only one who decides how you get to feel and how you get to live. Choose a way your mind and body will thank you for.

And even though, some days I still get knocked down and I am a broken mess, I still choose to pick myself right back up and keep moving forward.

I am still picking my pieces up. I am still broken and I know a part of me will always be broken but I have learned how to manage my mental illness. I have learned healthy ways to cope with my grief. That doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. These are things I live with every day that aren’t easy. Things that take practice. It will always be a struggle to continue to live each day without my son but its how I choose to live each day now that matters. I still do therapy weekly and I still use my coping skills I learned in my group. But it is me, who chooses to still take care of myself even in the toughest of times and I think I will always thank myself for that.

The year following my son’s passing tore me apart, kicked me when I was already down, and shattered me into a million pieces.. It pushed my limits and it tested my faith but it also brought me strength, courage, and more importantly, growth. And I am still growing. I still have days where I’m knocked down, and I’m sure as more years pass I’ll still keep getting knocked down by the grief but I’ll keep going and I’ll keep growing through it all. You can choose for your struggle to be your weakness or you can choose to turn that struggle into strength.

This is something I never thought I’d do. And this step was a huge one. It’s always hard and scary to reach out for help but admitting you need help and taking that step is the strongest thing you can do. Some things you really can’t do alone, as much as you want to. Today, and everyday, I am extremely proud of myself. There is no better feeling than truly loving yourself and being happy with the person you are, despite your everyday struggles.

And it doesn’t matter how long it takes you, as long as you get there... slow progress is STILL progress. Keep going, and don’t worry about your speed. Forward is forward, no matter how slow.

To my 2018/2019 self, I wish I could go back in time and just give you a big hug and tell you that everything will be okay and that better days are coming. I know a part of you wouldn‘t have believed it anyway but you stuck it out and made it through. And now it’s amazing to look back and know that there truly were better days coming for me...

I can’t stress this enough - it is okay not to be okay. It is okay to cry. It’s okay to breakdown and feel all that you are feeling. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay. It is okay not to be okay.

Take care of yourself. Your mental health is important.

Always remember, you are not defined by your mental illness.

I also want to thank every single person who has supported me and who continues to support me through each and every day. I honestly am so lucky and so grateful to have such an amazing family and support system.