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My Child Has Mental Health But He Also Has a Mental Illness

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When my child was diagnosed with a mental illness I was constantly talking about mental health. I was confusing the two terms and replacing “illness” with “health”, mostly because I cringed every time I used the term “mental illness”.

You see, there’s still a stigma around those words, even for a Mom who has been advocating for her son for years and years. I just couldn’t seem to easily say the words “my son has a mental illness”. It was easier to say “I’m raising awareness for mental health” or “I’m pushing hard for my son’s mental health to be taken care of”.

Day 7 of #PushingForAwareness

Until one day my son corrected me.

We were talking about the campaign we are doing called #PushingForAwareness where we committed to completing 50 pushups for 50 days to raise awareness for childhood mental illness. BUT…when we first started the campaign I kept saying we were “raising awareness for childhood mental health”.

My son asked, “Is there a difference between health and illness”? I paused, because in that moment I realized I needed to get over the stigma and educate properly.

I told him that we were raising awareness for childhood anxiety and depression.

“And those are illnesses, right? So we should say that we’re raising awareness for childhood mental illness because that’s what we’re doing”, he said.

“You’re right, buddy. You’re 100% right. We’re raising awareness for childhood mental illness.”

You see, everyone has mental health but not everyone has mental illness.

Your mental health slides on a continuum – some days you could have good mental health and other days you could have bad mental health. Stress, sleep, nutrition, life, in general, all lend a hand in dictating your mental health. But mental illness? Well, that gets diagnosed by a professional.

You may notice now that in the live videos we do for our daily pushups that my son introduces it as “raising awareness for mental illness” and after a few weeks, I no longer cringe at those words. I’ve grown accustomed to them and appreciate the power behind them.

I was feeling pretty baffled by my reaction to the words mental illness, but I’ve accepted that it was all based around the stigma we are currently battling. Even though I’ve been battling and I’ve been fighting for my son, I needed to wrap my head around the terms. They’re just words, but wow…words hold power, don’t they?

The more I’ve used the words, the easier it’s gotten. It’s not that I’m ashamed of his diagnosis at all, it’s not that I felt the need to hide it (obviously…sheesh we’re running a whole campaign on it), but I did need to address my cringey reaction to those two words.

And, the answer truly was stigma. It’s a long battle ahead of us to de-stigmatize the word. I know this because even as a true and huge advocate for mental illness, I shirked away from using the correct term for my son…and that’s the problem.

I realize more than ever that the work we need to do to help in the area of destigmatizing (is that even a word?!) the words “mental illness” is massive. However, I also know you can get the heck over it because I have done just that.

So, say it with me “MENTAL ILLNESS”.

My child has a mental illness.

I can say it now and I actually stand a little prouder. I may even throw a shoulder shimmy at you because it’s not scary at all. It’s actually pretty damn empowering.

My son called me out on not addressing the issue and using the incorrect term and I couldn’t be more proud of him. He’s not embarrassed by it and he continues to have the amazing conversations about mental illness with adults, friends and random people in the grocery store. So who am I to stand in his way?

If you haven’t checked out his campaign to raise awareness for mental illness, please do so! We have ONE WEEK left and we’re about $1300 short of our $5000 goal.

CLICK HERE TO DONATE!

“Don’t Talk To Me Like That” – That Time My 8-Year-Old Layed Down the Law

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I want to raise an independent woman. I want to raise a strong woman. I want to raise a woman who stands up for herself but does so with respect and…well…finality, no wishy-washy bullshit…just strength and power.

I want to teach her that her words matter and how she chooses to say those words, the tone she chooses is almost as important as the actual words themselves.

I want my daughter to have a voice that is intelligent, decisive and used to empower her and the person she is.

Oh Lordy…I want all of this for my daughter and in a time where women are taking so many steps forward but constantly getting pushed back, I see my daughter and the strength she exudes in who she is.

Today she was spoken to in a fairly impolite way. To be fair, the man who said the words was trying to be helpful, but his “coaching” came off as condescending and somewhat…what’s the word?…asshole-ish.

I stood up to say something to stand up for my daughter, but then I paused.

I saw my daughter take a deep breath, roll her shoulders back, lift her chin and say:

“Don’t talk to me like that. I don’t like it. You can coach me, I’d like to learn. But please don’t speak to me like that”.

The man’s jaw dropped open and he seemed unable to speak for a few moments.

I smiled, breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down. I watched the man gather himself.

“Sorry, Paytie. My bad. You’re right. What I was trying to say was….” and off they went for a respectful conversation.

And there’s me…watching my daughter do something I’ve fought my entire life to do. She found her voice and without any edge to it was able to communicate how she felt, that she didn’t like it and how the person could fix it.

I mean…SERIOUSLY.

She’s EIGHT.

What a fucking superstar.

She is constantly teaching me and I am constantly in awe of her spark, compassion and overall knowledge of who she is and what she deserves in this sunshine-y life of hers.

“Don’t talk to me like that”.

WHAT A ROCKSTAR.

It really can be that simple. Use your words. Let people know when they’ve over-stepped and find a way to make it work. Or not…of course…some people are just total assholes, but she knows that too. She knows when to walk away.

But today she corrected and became a smarter, more confident woman today. I have no idea if she’ll remember this moment, but I will, and I will use it in my own life to stand up for how I want to be treated.

I love that at 41 I’m learning from my 8 year old. I love that she is strong and powerful and beautiful. I love that she is confident and respectful.

I love that she is who she is and I truly love that she is mine to adore and be in awe of.

Well done, baby girl. Well. Done.

Burpees & Booty Workout

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I adore burpees. Love, love, love them. I feel like they are the most epic full-body workout (if done properly) with a snazzy bit of cardio for your heart health pleasure. See? I can make them sound so great.

I do not, however, love leg day. Truly, I can’t stand it. So I thought the best way for me to get in a good leg workout is to combine it with a lot of burpees.

Fair warning: This is an intermediate to advanced workout, so if you’re starting, I recommend you start with a more basic workout and learn proper form, get stronger and then tackle this beast. Try my 5 & Thrive series…it’s a week-long series of 5-minute workouts targeting different body parts each day. Linked below is Day 7, it has links to all five daily workouts.

CLICK HERE to try out 5 & Thrive.

The Workout:

There are 4 types of burpees and 4 leg exercises. Match up a burpee and a leg exercise, complete 20 reps of the burpee exercise and 50 reps of the leg exercise. Match up another burpee with another leg exercise and continue on until all four burpee and leg exercises are done.

You do not need to do these in order, switch up the order to do what feels “good” to you.

Want a challenge? Think 20 and 50 reps are too few? Okie dokie…I challenge you to 50 burpees and 100 reps of the leg exercise.

Enjoy! Let me know if you give this workout a try! I’d love to know how “burny” it was for you! Because my legs were screamin’ by the end! Good luck! You’re amazing.

Off you go!

It’s Hard to Be Excited When Your Completely Exhausted

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I remember dreading summer last year. Dreading it. I 100% did not want my kids out of school and I 100% did not want summer to start.

I saw other Moms posting things like: “I can’t wait to have my kids home with me all day” and “I can’t wait to make memories with my kiddos all summer”. I’m not kidding when I tell you that I practically dislocated my eyeballs from rolling them so hard and was muttering “fuck off, already” at my screen more times than I care to share.

Last summer I was exhausted. I work from home and that doesn’t mean I’m a stay-at-home Mom…let me be perfectly clear…I work longer hours than most people BECAUSE I work from home. And summers? Summers are harder than anything else.

Why?

Because the pressure is ON to make summer memories for my kids. So, I wake up at 4 am and get 6 hours of work done by 10 am so I can make those GD memories all summer long. Come September…I’m burned out and exhausted.

Early morning require bombass big mugs! Thanks, Chris!

Last year, I had zero reserves. I started the summer exhausted. I remember my kids asking if I was excited about summer and the shitty reality is that I told them “No. No, I am not”. Which I’m sure was pretty damn hurtful.

I was barely surviving last year. I was exhausted in June. I started the summer burned out. I was angry, irritable and overworked. I was unhealthy, sad, depressed and so full of anxiety that I couldn’t breathe.

But, I woke every morning, put my time into my business and tried so hard to get water from this stone.

It was not our best summer. At all. But, we did manage to have some good times.

But this year? I CANNOT WAIT! I’m one of those Moms who is ACTUALLY looking forward to spending time with my kids!

Why?

BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO REST! I’m not starting the summer in a deficit.

Hey, I know by the end of summer I will be tired and done and ready for my twerps to get back to class, but…then I have 10 months before I have to do that all again. I will get up and work at 4 am because I truly cannot wait to explore with my kids. I will put my phone away for hours on end (something I felt I couldn’t do before) and I will live my summer with my kids…beside them, not dragging behind them willing it to be over.

I’m rested, my friends. And that makes ALL the difference in the world. You truly cannot be excited about things if you’re exhausted. There is no physical way you can fake your way through that. Trust me, I tried.

I am finally looking forward to summer again. And that…feels so good.

Our Dog Helps Us Battle Mental Illness

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Her name is Sunny Spot and she is a rottweiler. Terrifying, right? Bahahahaha…if you’re terrified of big, sweet, loveable, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly babies then yes, she’s super terrifying.

Her name is Sunny and she is one of the most effective tools we have in our support toolbox for managing my son’s anxiety (which he has officially named “Dickson”, lol). My son has asked me to write this post about him and his dog because she is critical to his comfort, safety, security and managing his anxiety.

We surprised my son with Sunny about 5.5 years ago and he immediately fell in love. She has always been and will always be “his” dog. She sleeps on his bed every night and she can hear him playing at school when he’s out at recess or lunch (our house backs onto his elementary school). She will whine at the back door if she hears him playing and greets him at the front door when he gets home from school. When he leaves, she watches him go every day, sighs, sleeps and waits.

Baby Sunny

When Owen started having panic attacks he would immediately run to her when we got home. If you’ve ever had a conversation with my son, I’m certain Sunny will be brought up. No one, and I mean no one, who knows my son doesn’t know that we have a dog named Sunny.

As Owen’s panics started growing and anxiety started ruling our lives more and more, Sunny’s love and comfort became a critical piece to managing the hard days. I truly do not know what we would have done without her. He often got through a panic attack and would immediately say “I just want to get home to Sunny. I really need her now”.

Doing what she does best…lovin’ up on my son.

The best part? Sunny knows. On hard days, she stays close. She comforts. She loves. She protects. She gives and gives. On easy days, she…stays close, comforts, loves and protects…LOL.

She’s an incredible dog and has become a major part of Owen’s recovery. She is a huge part of his counseling and is officially a character in his strategy to shrink his worries.

The bond between a boy and his dog is strong. But the bond between Sunny and Owen is 1980’s megahold hairspray strong. Unbreakable. Wonderful.

If your child suffers from a mental illness and you’re able to, I would highly recommend you get a dog. There are a lot of lessons she has taught Owen, from responsibility to forgiveness (she eats a lot of his toys), to learning what it takes to take care of a live animal (it’s a lot). But one of the greatest lessons she’s taught us is the power of complete and total acceptance and unconditional love.

Dogs don’t judge. Dogs don’t hate. Dogs don’t make fun. They simply love you for who you are on the good days and the bad days. They love and love and love and all that love builds a bed you can crawl on to recover, rest and become whole again.

She is the greatest gift we’ve ever given Owen and when we got her we had no idea how critical she would be to our son’s growth as a human. We had no idea how critical she would be to our son’s recovery from mental illness.

If you have a child who battles, I would absolutely, 100% urge you to consider bringing a dog into your world. They take a lot of work, but if you make the dog your child’s dog…I’m almost certain he or she will feel more supported than ever before.

Dogs help with anxiety. Well, at least ours did. And I, for one, am extremely grateful for that big goofball. Even if she does eat entire bags of chocolate chips (bad), all the bagels off the counter (bad), roast chickens fresh from the oven (very bad) and my shoe (very, very bad).

Also…she’s MY dog, dammit. MINE. He think she’s his, but…oh fine…she’s his but I get my snuggles in every now and then when he’s still sleeping.

Get a dog, my friends. They help in thousands and thousands of ways.