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Dear Parents: This Sucks & We’ll Be Okay

November 19, 2020 By Lindsay Gee Leave a Comment

Pandemic.

Before March 2020, if you’d asked me what a pandemic was I would know that it was global, not awesome and pretty tragic. Now, in November 2020, 8 months into a pandemic I 100% know that a pandemic is global, not awesome and extremely tragic.

I’m sure I was taught about the Spanish Flue in Social Studies in my youth but it pretty much went in one ear and out the other – much like my knowledge of Canadian history, it isn’t something I’ve retained in this brain of mine. But, I’ve read about the Spanish Flu now and yup – that pandemic sucked, too.

Spanish Flu: 1918 – 1920

I was doing a comparison – because don’t we all love to compare our suffering to others – and I came up with: (buckle up, I’m about to blow your minds) pandemics suck no matter when they happen. Sure, times have changed – but overall – pandemics change our lives on a global scale whether they happend in 1918 or 2020 – pandemics are horrible, horrible things.

As a parent, I must say – Covid-19 can suck some big balls. We all have pandemic fatigue – we’re tired of the rules, masks, social distancing. We’re exhausted from trying to figure out if we can go in so-and-so’s house or figure out bubbles (and who knew a cute word like “bubble” could cause so much stress now?!) because the rules change so often.

Remember when we could just…go out? Drop by? HUG? I see people shake hands on t.v. and I instantly flinch and think “c’mon, man…COVID!”.

WTF, Lindsay – get it together.

I must say our kids are handling this whole thing well, aren’t they? For now. I mean – my house is a bit of a shitshow – we’re battling depression and anxiety – parents and kids – so it’s a slog of mental and physical health check-ins on the daily.

I digress.

Listen up, parents:

Yes, this sucks.
Yes, we all hate this.
Yes, the rules are hard to follow.
Yes, working from home is hard.
Yes, going to work is hard.
Yes, making dinner sucks.
Yes, laundry still sucks.
Yes, kids are needy right now.
Yes, we, as parents, are needy.
Yes, outbursts from your kids are normal.
Yes, outbursts from your soul are normal.
Yes, feeling sad and missing your old life is normal.
Yes, not hugging sucks in the most suckiest of all sucky ways.
Yes, parenting in a pandemic is really FUCKING HARD.
Yes, you can breakdown.
Yes, you can shower cry.
Yes, you DO have to pick yourself back up each and every day.
Yes, you HAVE to be strong.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES. You have to do it all.

But parents, we’re going to be okay.

Quick idea though – how about you show yourself and others a little compassion? A little grace? Emphasis on the “YOURSELF”.

We haven’t done this pandemic thing before. So – yell and rage if you need to, then pull yourself together by any and all means possible – and live the next day.

We’re all going to need A LOT of therapy after all this but I figure if at the end of the day you’re still alive, your kids are still alive and you managed to find joy in the mini-moments – we’re going to be okay.

Find your mini-moments, parents….those are the moments that are going to get us through this pandemic and make it all…just…okay.

Filed Under: A Word About Family, A Word About Health & Fitness, Evolution of Parenting, Family Fitness, Healthy Family, Mental Health

Childhood Anxiety – You Slippery, Fickle F**ker

September 18, 2020 By Lindsay Gee Leave a Comment

First and foremost, please know my son has approved this post. I would like to continue to honor and share his journey as I know our words have previously helped many adults and youth , and will do so only with his permission. As he grows, I want him to know that he has the power to help through sharing and educating – but should he choose to stop sharing at some point, I will honor and respect his wishes.

Quick review

For those new to my blog, here’s what you should know: I’m a Mom to two wicked kids, I used to own a business but now I happily work for others and I’ve battled my own mental illnesses in the past, present and most definitely future. My adorable and smooshie son was diagnosed with four mental illnesses at the age of 10: generalized anxiety disorder, social anxiety, panic disorder (this one is a real bitch) and depression (also a real sneaky shithead).

Anxiety & what we’ve learned

We’ve learned in counselling (about a year of it now), that anxiety is slippery and sneaky. We’ve learned we can shrink anxiety and worry, but we’ve also been educated that it’s always there, making plans and scheming how to take over again. Sneaky fucker.

For many kids with anxiety, Covid-19 was a blessing. No school, no sports, no problem. This was true for my son. He thrived at home. No panic attacks, much less worry, no depression. Now granted, for others, anxiety increased during Covid because well – HELLO GLOBAL PANDEMIC. But, for my son, it seemed to give him a chance to rest his neurological system, his physical body and worry was just a shadow of who he used to be.

Oh, FYI…my son named his anxiety “Dickson”. So, if I talk about Dickson, we’re talking about anxiety.

Fast forward to present day. School is back in session for us, full-time. Hockey ice times and now assessments are running. And Dickson is back and PISSED he’s been quiet for months. He’s now puffed up his chest like the total dickhead he is and forced himself to be heard, seen, felt and feared.

Panic has been back in our house now for a few weeks and it’s exhausting. My son has “high level” anxiety, says his counsellor. And when she says it, she looks at me like “Linds, babe – he’s got it bad. You’re not wrong that he battles – his anxiety is mucho mucho grande” – probably not those words – she’s a professional – but that’s how I read her face.

Panic attacks have occurred numerous times over the past few weeks. The fear and dread of seeing these come on for my son is all-consuming. I knew they would come. We all did. But DAMN, did we all wish he would be the one that it wouldn’t happen to. DAMN if we didn’t all hang on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he was the kid to outgrow it.

Erm. No. Not gonna happen, Linds. Nice try.

DAMMIT.

So, we see Dickson coming – all puffed up, furious that he’s been ignored, DEMANDING to be heard, seen, felt and fear – and my son and I – we strap on the battle gear and stand our ground.

The difference now though is that these attacks are bigger, harder, tougher than before. Dickson is mad at being ignored and forced into the background so he’s grown, gotten sneakier, gotten stronger. The attacks are also bigger because now WE are mad. We’re pissed it’s back. So now we have panic AND we have rage.

That’s not good, fyi.

Hockey is a big trigger for my son. We can’t pinpoint exactly what it is about hockey, but currently if we mention it – my son’s anxiety “tells” begin. Dancing feet, tongue moving side to side, fidgeting – they show up. I strap on my armour of strategy and get ready to work with Dickson and basically tell him to “fuck off and leave my kid alone”. Dickson doesn’t want to listen right now. He ravages my son and leaves him exhausted, depleted, apologetic (that one kills me) and yup – pissed at the fact that this is something he has to deal with.

“Why me, Mom?”

Aw man, buddy. Because you’re strong enough to handle it? Because it’s actually a gift you’ll understand later – this sensitivity of yours? Because you’re a mother fucking warrior and will get through this?

Nah. I just say “I don’t know, pal. I would take it away if I could”.

Back to the subject of hockey. If hockey is such a trigger, why not just quit?

“Because I love it with all I am, Mom”.

Good reason. Got it.

And that has worked for a few years now. We agree to play hockey. Our family supports our guy as he panics and we cheer and shimmy-shake when he gets on the ice.

The big decision

But this year is different. Covid has added an extra stress to a place we don’t need extra stress and Dickson has taken full advantage of this and is running rampant through my son’s mind and taking over his body.

If I may just quickly: Fuck you, Dickson.

My son and I have had numerous conversations about hockey this year. My husband and I have, too. It’s a constant thought in our minds – is all this suffering worth it?

For awhile, from my son, the answer was yes. But recently, there’s been hesitaton.

I feel my son worries about letting us down, feeling like a failure, “letting anxiety win” and there are a few things he should know:

  • As long he does what’s right for him, he won’t let us down.
  • There is no failure when you make a decision based on personal health and happiness.
  • Anxiety isn’t winning, we’re just controlling it – that little beast doesn’t get the best of you, O, you get to control him and the decisions you make to shrink Dickson back down? – THAT is winning,

We are in assessments right now at hockey. We haven’t been able to get to any ice times yet because – because well anxiety/panic. A few days ago I let our son know he had a practice coming up. The immediate panic response was visible. As we watched tv that night, my son turned to me and said “I’m getting really nervous about hockey”, and so began our conversation on the option to continue on or to not play this year.

We left it at “Let’s just table if for tonight and see how you feel in the morning”.

That night at bed, my son let me know again that he was nervous. It was all over his face. I said to him “O, why don’t we just take hockey off your plate tomorrow and see how you feel after that?”.

The visible reaction was incredible. You could SEE the weight lift off his chest and he took the biggest breath I think he’s ever taken in his life. A moment later he said “Whoa. That was a big breath”. I smiled and said “Yeah, I saw that and I did the same, buddy”.

We smiled at one another in that moment of knowing and, our continued support of one another grew again. As I left his room that night he quietly said “Mom, I don’t think I’ll play this year”.

“Sounds good, pal. How does that feel?”

And we both took another huge, cleansing breath and he said “Those were some big breaths for us both. I feel good”.

So, friends. No hockey for us this year. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love the sport. It 100% doesn’t mean he’s given up on managing anxiety. It means he’s chosen to put suffering away and choose a path he can manage and as his Mama – I COULD NOT BE PROUDER of that hard decision he just made.

Most adults I know aren’t as mature when it comes to doing what they need to do for their mental health as my 11-year old son.

This year, we play basketball. Practice last night was “the best basketball practice ever”. There was some nervousness going in – but hey – everyone gets nervous going into their first practice of the year. That is normal anxiety.

I’ve had a lot of people asking how our family is. To answer – we’ve been through the wringer the past month – but we’re growing, learning and managing. We’re happy and supported. My son is finding his voice when things bother him and THAT is worth it all.

Thanks for being here. Thanks for supporting us. Thanks for caring and asking. Our journey is not over and together we can do anything. From supporting one another, to knowing I have support from my husband at home to knowing I have a ray of sunshine from my daughter always waiting for us – we’re okay.

Filed Under: A Word About Family, Evolution of Parenting, Healthy Family, Mental Health Tagged With: buddy check for jesse, Childhood anxiety, childhood depression, childhood mental illness, panic disorder

Let’s Just Agree To Say It: F**k You, COVID-19.

April 9, 2020 By Lindsay Gee Leave a Comment

Warning: Very ranty. Very sweary. DO NOT READ IF JUDGEY.

If one more person tells me to use this time in isolation for good, there is a 100% chance of a swift kick to the crotch and a jab-cross combo coming their way.

I don’t want to be positive about this pandemic. I don’t want to create anything new or come out of this thing with a new side hustle. I don’t want to renovate my house, do cutesie crafts with my kids and bond over the monotony that is our lives right now.

I’m tired of trying to fucking think of different things to do around the house to “keep the kids engaged”.

Fuck you, Corona. I want my life back. I want my kids’ lives back.

Also – you’re ugly.
*stomps feet, crosses arms, sticks tongue out*

Yesterday I went out and did some errands and damn if people aren’t super weird right now. I mean, okay – this is a pandemic, I get it. We need to be super careful. We need to self-isolate. But when you do need to go out for the essentials, it doesn’t mean that everyone walking past you is going to cough or sneeze on you – so don’t look at me like I’m a criminal as I put toilet paper in my cart – BECAUSE I NEED TOILET PAPER – I’m not fucking hoarding it.

Fuck you, Corona. You’re making people paranoid and er – scowly? So many scowls out there. I mean, COME ON, people. I’m not going to jump across the aisle and lick your face, so fucking relax.

So. Many. Swears.

Maybe it’s because I have two jobs that I’m trying to maintain, two kids to safeguard from all the fucking weirdos out there right now, a stupid rec room we needed to get organized to MOTHER-FUCKING HOMESCHOOL and a bunch of mental illnesses in my house (including my own) to make sure that we’re all okay.

(We’re all okay, btw.)

Aforementioned stupid rec room mid-renovation.

I have tried to stay positive for the past four weeks. I didn’t get to go on a vacation to Hawaii which was desperately needed and I’ve gotten over that. My kids are doing just fine. The rec room is almost done – but this total and complete feeling of overwhelm? Well – it’s sitting in my stomach like a cobra about to strike.

I couldn’t catch my breath yesterday…and I felt soooooo angry all day. Angry that my kids now can’t go and walk at the beaches and parks they love, even if they keep a proper distance. Angry that I can’t see my people. Angry that I can’t hug my people. Angry that I can’t just text my buddy and say “I gotta get outta here, meet me at the pub”. Angry that I can’t lick my peoples’ faces – okay – not that one.

Just. Angry.

So angry.

And yeah, yeah, yeah…I will get over the anger. I will get over this complete feeling of overwhelm I’m going through right now. Ugh, for the love…please don’t comment about how much I must hate my life or that I should be grateful to have a home, be healthy, etc (I know all this, I’m just ranting so LET ME RANT).

I love my life. But THIS is not my life.

I will do the crafts. I will watch ALL the movies. I will make this time as happy and healthy as I can as a Mom – all the while maintaining two jobs (and YES, I realize I am sooooooo very lucky to have kept my jobs – I am beyond grateful for this), one volunteer position (which makes my heart happy), two happy kids, one house in need of renovations and what the fuck? – now being called “Miss Lindsay” by my kids.

I swear…if the next 5 words don’t send you over the edge every day – are you even parenting through a pandemic?

“What are we doing tomorrow”?

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I hate that question.

The same bloody thing we did today. We’re staying home, you’re doing an hour of school and then you’re probably going to end up bickering with your sibling for hours on end because you are booooooored and I am overwhelmed…then we’ll hug, say I love you, go to bed…on repeat…for what seems like forever and ever, amen.

Phewf. Rant almost over.

Listen, I know we’ll get through this. I know that we’ll be okay. I know that my sweet kids – who honestly are getting along so great and are being so awesome – will go back to school at some point in the next year (wtf…year?!). But for now, this Mom is 100%, absolutely, positively missing my people, giving hugs, smiling and I’d do anything to not walk around with this cobra of anxiety in my belly.

And you know what?! It’s okay. It’s okay to feel this overwhelm and this anxiety. This is a fucking pandemic we’re living through and it’s scary and overwhelming and the demands on parents right now are incredible. At least, it feels like it is for me.

I will get back to positivity soon, I’m sure. That’s what we do, isn’t it? We get through, we find the bright side, we forge ahead. But, for now…

Fuck you, COVID-19. Fuuuuuuuck you.

And…I’m done.

Filed Under: A Word About Family, Evolution of Parenting Tagged With: coronavirus, COVID-19, parenting during a pandemic

COVID-19 & Childhood Anxiety – The Surprise Twist

April 7, 2020 By Lindsay Gee Leave a Comment

First and foremost let me start this by saying that I hope you’re all well. I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re healthy. What a wild world we’re living in right now. (Also…congrats to BC for doing an amazing job at flattening the curve – Dr. Bonnie Henry is my hero).

I have had many people emailing, messaging and texting me to check in on my son. If you’re unsure of our history – he has severe anxiety – and yes, it’s severe, I’m not being overly dramatic. He battles massive panic attacks and he fights his mental illnesses like a true warrior. He’s also my hero.

Here’s what I’d like you to know: My son is living his best life. He’s relaxed. He’s silly. He’s super funny. It’s as if his anxiety has disappeared (I assure you it hasn’t – it’s laying in wait, of this I’m certain).

Sure, he misses his friends and all his activities but the anxiety level in him has gone waaaaay down. I haven’t seen his tongue move side to side or his feet marching (two signs of him battling anxiety) for weeks and weeks.

Our self-isolation started with a lot of anger from him and I understand that. You see, we had a trip to Hawaii planned (leaving March 15) and since January I’ve said to him “Buddy, all we gotta do is make it to March 15th and then we’ll get a break. We just gotta hang in until then and then we’ll leave and take a breath”.

Mom fail.

How the hell could I know there’d be a pandemic?! But – he was angry with me – so angry. “You said all I had to do was make it to March 15!”. On repeat. Yikes. It was not awesome. But, he quickly got over his anger (quicker than me – I was pretty damn upset myself) when he learned that by staying home we were helping others.

“So, we’re like superheroes?”, he said.

What an awesome way to look at it. Kids are the best.

No school (middle school is hard). No sports (sports are hard). No anxiety.

Anxiety is at an all-time low. Have you checked in with your high-anxiety friends? I wonder if they’re feeling the same. Because it certainly seems that although people are concerned about COVID-19 – by self-isolating and taking care of themselves and others – well, anxiety for some is down, down, down.

I’ve recently learned to try to find the silver lining in all the bad that goes on in my life – some days that is hard. COVID-19 is awful, horrible and has put our entire world in an initial state of panic but now (at least a lot of us) in a state of camaraderie. My silver lining to this horrible pandemic? I get to see and experience my son in a state of no anxiety. It’s different. Amazing. And I’m holding on to him in this state as long as I can.

He’s resting. He’s reading. He’s playing with his Dad and sister. He’s silly and he makes us laugh. He loves family time. He still pushes his sister’s damn buttons – but hey – #siblinglife.

Thanks for checking in. Thanks for asking. My son is doing well and our family is safe and healthy. If you have a loved one that battles anxiety, I wonder if your experience is the same? I certainly hope so – because it’s a beautiful silver lining.

Filed Under: A Word About Family, Evolution of Parenting

Parents: Your Kids Know More About Mental Health Than You – Get With The Program

January 18, 2020 By Lindsay Gee Leave a Comment

I was going to title this piece:

“Why?” – The question that almost made me lose my cool.

But, after some thought, the other title is better and hopefully many, many parents will read this as a way to grow their knowledge base around mental health and mental illness.

This week, my son (diagnosed with panic disorder, social anxiety, generalized anxiety disorder and depression) had a hard week. We’ve been doing really great for a few months but were warned that anxiety will creep up on you, punch you in the face, sit on your chest and demand attention at some point. That moment happened this week. Shoot. But, we’re a team and we stand together as he fights through his panic.

Team Owen – fighting one attack after the other with strength and love.

I have two scenes to share with you:

Scene 1:

Panic attack city. It started at home where my son demonstrated all of his anxiety “tells”. Tongue moving side to side, feet marching in place, pale, welling tears in his eyes.

Now, we don’t allow anxiety to rule our house and as long as my son is moving forward – I go with him. He gets a ride to school with a wonderful friend – he couldn’t get in the car. So, I ended up driving him to school because anxiety doesn’t win and I don’t allow him to let it, so WE GO TO SCHOOL.

He panics in the car. I finally get him inside. He panics in the school. I get him into the counselor’s office. He panics in the office. This has now been 1.5 hours.

He is battling HARD. He won’t let go of me. We breathe. We distract. We talk. We distract. And finally, he lets go of me and we can sit quietly for a second. We decide to go to the library to sort books – we distract.

At the library, there is a class reading. I move away from my son to talk to the librarian – who obviously doesn’t know how to handle kids with anxiety but is FULL of compassion and says “whatever he needs”.

But then, we ask permission from the adult in charge of the class and she says “You want to bring him in here like THAT?! – I mean, I guess – but *shrugs* – that won’t look good for him.”

Um…excuse me – pardon?

I leave it alone and go back to my son – but oooooooh, what I would have loved to say.

My son begins to engage with the librarian. She is wonderful. Distraction is key during panic attacks – engage another part of the brain. The school counselor (the unsung heroes of the education system) asks if my son would like a friend. He says “Oh yes, please” and asks for a compassionate, beautiful, warm, supportive friend he has (I adore this friend).

I told him I would get him (you see, I need to distance myself from my son during a panic or it rolls and rolls). I get to his class and see them inside, but the door is shut. So I knock. Behind me, a support staff asks what is happening and I tell her my son is having a panic attack and would like a friend.

Adult: “Why?”

Me: “Why what?”

Adult: “Why is he like that?”

Me: “He has a mental illness and he’s battling right now.”

Adult: “That’s weird. That must be embarrassing to be crying like that.”

Me: —

At that point, the teacher (she’s wonderful) came to the door, got my son’s friend and I didn’t have to reach over and strangle anyone. Back to the library – distraction in place (hello, book sorting ftw!) and support friend beside him.

BAM. That is how we do it! THAT is how we conquer a massive panic attack at school.

Scene Two:

I have a job with the Stigma-Free Society where I get to go to schools and talk about mental health/illness with our Children’s Mental Health Program (we also have a Stigma-Free Zone School presentation for older grades students in grades 7 – 12). It’s wonderful because I get to use my son’s experience to help kids learn, relate and know they’re not alone.

*And yes – he has given me permission to tell his story – thank you very much.

This week I got to speak with the sweetest Grade 4/5 class. I was warned they were a little rowdy, but they were wonderful.

Me: What do you think you can do if you see someone who is crying or upset?

Student: Ask them if they’re okay. Share your warmth.

End scene.

Isn’t that the most beautiful answer?!?!

Ask them if they’re okay. Share your warmth.

The difference between these two scenes caught be so off-guard this week, I’ve struggled to comprehend the incredible gap in compassion and understanding between adults and kids.

Kids win. Hands down.

Keep cool all of you adults who ARE educated and are starting to get mad at me for not acknowledging you – I’m not talking to you. There are many of us who are in the middle of this, fighting our way to get noticed and get attention to help educate those that are not. I salute you. I do. BUT – for the most part – our generation and the one before us SUCKS at understanding mental health issues.

No disrespect meant AT ALL – but it’s the truth. We grew up in an era of “get over it”, “suck it up”, and “get ahold of yourself”. It’s time to learn what this generation is now learning.

Compassion and understanding. Kindness. Warmth.

I love that I get to go into schools and talk about mental health and stigma. I love that I get to help this generation be the change and create safe places for people battling mental illness to exist and thrive.

Adults, please – get with the program.

If you’re unsure how to handle mental illness, the best place is for you to start using the word “mental illness” and start de-stigmatizing it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of or feared – the KIDS – they get this. But most adults, my lovelies…COME ON.

Educate yourself. Learn a little. No, learn a lot. Especially if you work with, coach or are around children and youth. Mental health matters and while a lot of the kids who are worrying and are nervous are not diagnosed with a mental illness – you can help them through their worrisome days with compassion, support and many, many strategies – BUT – you need to educate yourself.

If you ever see a child in a panic – please know there may be no specific moment that they’re upset about. Please know they would choose to be anywhere but in their brain at that time. Please know they can’t answer your WHY because they are fighting for their lives at that moment.

But to clearly answer the question of “WHY are they acting the way they are”? …it’s simple…

It’s called mental illness and they’re a f**king warrior fighting for peace at that moment.

So:

Share your warmth.

It’s so very simple.

Share. Your. Warmth.

Filed Under: Evolution of Parenting Tagged With: Childhood anxiety, mental health, mental health awareness, mental illness

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About Lindsay

Lindsay is a health warrior, passionate about supporting others to find their best life and filling her days with a business she loves, a community of women she cherishes and a family she loves with her entire heart and soul. Read more...

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