Content Warning — discussion of serious health issues and mental health.
June 9th, 2020.
I doubt I’ll ever forget that date.
That’s the date that my mother and father called our little family here and told us that he had been diagnosed with cancer.
It’s never a diagnosis that you want to hear. It is very sadly a damn near-universal experience. I don’t know of too many people who haven’t been affected by someone in their lives being diagnosed with cancer.
With everything that has been going on in the world, I was already hurting. Having to face the reality that my Dad may not overcome this… I’ll be honest – my mental health tanked. For days I tried to be strong for my husband and daughter. And it ended up with me breaking down writing a Facebook post. Full on, full-body ugly crying. Keeping things together is a hard road. But I need to do it so that things keep going in this house.
I’ve worked on dealing with this sadness and depression. I feel hopeless most days. If life was out of control normally, this was an added spin.
Now, I know that I need to take care of myself. I know and will be talking about this with my therapist. I’ll also be talking about how this has opened up old wounds about talking about my mental health with anyone. Which, considering that I fully support ending the stigma around mental health and mental health treatment – it is not a good thing.
I am not okay. I will be okay. But today, I’m not.