• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to footer

LINDSAYGEE.CA

Fitness programs, workouts and so much more to help you keep active, motivated and on track.

  • HOME
  • Safe & Sound Protocol
  • Blog
    • Blog
    • Podcast Episodes
    • Videos
  • About Me
    • Speaker Opportunities
    • About Me
    • Contact Me
  • Shop

The Importance of Buddy Check for Jesse for Our Family (and yours)

July 23, 2019 By Lindsay Gee

Last night my son got to meet the man behind Buddy Check for Jesse. To say it was an emotional night would be an understatement. At least it was for me.

If you’re unfamiliar with Buddy Check for Jesse, it is an organization that brings mental health awareness to sport. Buddy Check is most known for the “Green Tape” initiative where kids tape their sticks with green (the color for mental illness) tape during the last week of October. It’s an incredible way to raise awareness and start conversations about mental illness – what it can look like, how to support, how to check on your friends, etc.

Most importantly was the message our coach talked about in the dressing room. The message of checking on your friends, of reaching out if you see someone struggling…of reaching out if you ARE struggling. It’s this message that created the environment in which my child could vocalize what he goes through and feel supported by his coach and his teammates. The green tape was a tool for the conversations. Now, every time Owen sees green tape, he feels supported thanks to the words of his coach.

Buddy Check for Jesse came into our lives last fall and it changed both my son’s and my life. It may seem like a fairly simple thing to do…tape a stick…but it was the conversations, the openness, the support received during this initiative that brought strength to both my son and me to speak out about what my son goes through (recently diagnosed with several types of anxiety and depression).

My son has always been open about talking about his mental illness – he does not know that this is uncommon – but Buddy Check seemed to really hit his heart and soul and light it on fire. He became braver, more vocal, more proud of overcoming his anxiety and – seemingly, more accepted.

Since the Green Tape initiative in October, Owen has talked openly about his mental illness as he battled hard all season. It was a very difficult season for us, but I believe he felt supported, accepted and honoured by his teammates and coaches. His openness to speak about what he goes through still humbles me and the messages he speaks constantly patch my heart back together and make me so very proud.

His main message: You’re not alone. You’re supported.

I mean…seriously. He’s 10.

During Owen’s 50 for 50 campaign to raise awareness for mental illness, we knew a large portion of the funds raised would go to Buddy Check for Jesse. Last night we were able to meet Stu and his wife and Owen donated $2500 to Stu and the work being done at Buddy Check for Jesse.

Last night I watched my son, shy at first, hand over his hard-earned money to a cause he truly believes in. As the evening progressed, I saw my son open up, be silly, and engage with Stu and Niki and I was just so proud. He even read an entire article OUT LOUD to them about how his dog helps him cope with his mental illness.

At one point Stu turned to me and said: “You’d never think he has a mental illness, would you?”. And we both just smiled at one another and shrugged our shoulders…because we know. We know mental illness looks like the kid or adult next door. The silly one, the quiet one, the loud one, the extrovert, the introvert, the sporty, the shy…mental illness does not “look” like anyone in particular.

In our case, it looks like a ridiculously kind, sweet, smart, funny, sometimes loud (aren’t they all?) 10-year old. For Stu, mental illness looked like a smart, kind, loving son. You simply cannot look at someone and know the battles they must wage to live the life they live.

Owen was given the gift of acceptance, grace and education through Buddy Check for Jesse and honestly, it was this initiative that helped me through an extremely difficult season. Knowing that there are many other parents out there advocating for their kids, knowing I wasn’t being judged, knowing that this is a big enough issue for someone out there to be fighting for awareness…I held that in my heart daily as we battled.

Owen was given gifts from Stu and Niki last night that took my breath away. I will keep those private, but I know Owen will cherish his gifts forever.

As we drove home from meeting Stu, on Jesse’s birthday, we had a bigger conversation about depression – a topic we haven’t discussed much. He had a lot of questions and I could see him grappling with the loss Stu and his family feel. Once again, we keep learning and growing because we talk about it. We talk and talk. I am honest and open with my son – hiding facts won’t help. So, he asked the questions I think he may have been nervous to ask before. I answered and I cried. When we got home, he was the one to come to me in our driveway and give me a hug.

My son is incredible. He battles 3-hour panic attacks, he makes it through “sad days” and he advocates for others to reach out and find support. He raised over $5000 to raise awareness for mental illness and he isn’t done. He wants to do more. So we will. Apparently forever.

The fact that my son, at 10, is using his own mental illness to let others know they aren’t alone, to raise money for organizations that help bring awareness and to not even think twice about sharing what he does – it humbles me and makes me want to be a better person for him.

Stu – Thank you. Out of tragedy and heartbreak, please know you’re helping so much. I am sorry for your loss, with my entire heart and soul – but we promise to continue to talk. We promise to educate and support and help as much as we can so others can find the light again. We will be here fighting our own battles all while drawing a sword to stand strong for others.

Owen, my son – you are the strongest person I know. I hope you know the strength and power you have inside you – but when you don’t – I’m here – arms wide, heart open and fighting for you.

Filed Under: A Word About Family, Evolution of Parenting Tagged With: anxiety, childhood mental illness, depression, mental illness

5 Emotions I Felt When My Child was Diagnosed with a Mental Illness

May 16, 2019 By Lindsay Gee

The battle to get my son into the mental health system seems like it lasted years. Because…it lasted years. From trying to manage his panic attacks and anxiety with books, online strategies, Dr. Google, school counselors, psychologists and waitlists up the wazoo (yes, wazoo), we fought for over 4 years.

He fought for four years. And, there’s guilt there – but I’ll get to that.

I learned a ton. I still need to learn a ton. But, I’m constantly asked why I’m so public about the process and why I share as much as I do.

Why? Because…how else can we create change? How can we force people to pay attention to the mental health epidemic (yes, EPIDEMIC) that is waging war on our kids? How else can I force the difficult conversations that I know need to happen?

I’ve always been authentic and true and brutally honest in my writing, so why would I start sugar-coating something as important as childhood mental illness?

The day my child was diagnosed by a psychiatrist with panic disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, social anxiety and depression will be forever engrained in my soul.

Here’s what I actually felt:

1. Relief. We’d been battling for so long and the relief was visible from my son when he heard his diagnosis. When he heard the words, he exhaled deeply and his little shoulders, that had held so much tension and stress for so long, relaxed just a little. His relief is my relief.

I was relieved not only for him, but because having a diagnosis gets him “in the system” and finally, finally, we were going to get the help and care he needs. Relief was a strong emotion, but not the strongest.

2. Sorrow/Anguish/Sadness. I group these words together because they relay the overall grief undertone of my reaction. I felt sad. Sad for my child. Sad for what he’s had to endure. Sad for the years he’s battled and won but that had caused his little body to shut down and let depression in. I began grieving the moments he didn’t have because anxiety held reign on his brain for so many years.

3. Dread. I was filled with dread. 100% dread. I wasn’t terrified for the medication the psychiatrist wanted to put him on. I was filled with dread for my son because I know the hard work real counseling involves. I know how draining it can be and I was so scared of the things that were to come for him. I wasn’t wrong to dread this. It’s been really hard. And, to be honest, being in the middle of it now, it hasn’t gotten better. I dread the sessions every week because I hate putting my son in a place so raw and scary for him.

And yes, I know they need to uncover and heal and dig in to the sensitive areas, but I can still dread it. I can dread walking into the room after his session and seeing his little face exhausted and sad. I’m allowed to dread that. You never, ever want to see your child suffer. And yes…I realize…short term pain, long term gain. I can still dread those moments. And I do. 100%.

4. Guilt. If I had pushed earlier. If I had not yelled at him on this day. If I had just a little more patience. If I had protected him a little better. If, if, if. Those if’s are going to get you. Hard. While I realize I’ve been a pretty okay Mom, there’s always the guilt of “maybe if I had _________, we wouldn’t be here”. For years my child battled. For years he suffered. And I wasn’t able to help him the way a Mom should help. Guilt. It’s a real bitch.

5. Anger. My son and I often talk about how much we hate anxiety and depression. We hate it. It takes control and we haven’t learned to tame it just yet. We hate it. So, when my kiddo was diagnosed, I was pissed at anxiety. I was pissed that these were the cards he was dealt because mental illness sucks and why, oh why, did my son have to get it?! Why him?

He’s a rockstar. Smart, kind, caring, sensitive. So I was pissed that this had to happen to him. That he had to battle the way he does. I was pissed because I knew the stigma associated to this and I was pissed because NO ONE was talking about it. NO. ONE.

So, what does one do when they’re pissed off and angry at a thing they have no control over? They create change. They ban together, with one another (mom and son), and go public. A decision made in the vehicle after diagnosis. A decision made because my child was relieved and overjoyed with being diagnosed.

My emotions were NOT his. I don’t think he truly knew the work he had to do to “get better” and I think that now, after some of that work has taken place, he may not be so thrilled with the diagnosis…but, I still believe his #1 emotion would be relief.

My #1 emotion? I couldn’t possibly say. All I knew was that I was going to have to be stronger than ever before…and I wasn’t at all wrong. If I thought panic attacks were hard…they aren’t anything compared to healing and working through the “stuff” my child needs to work through.

To all of you out there reading this and who have a child with mental illness, I guess I write this to say to you: embrace your emotions. Use them to fuel change. Use them to support, advocate and persevere through healing. Because this road is treacherous and you’re going to need any and all emotions to get you through.

They key? Any negative ones? You MUST turn them to fuel for change and you must somehow find the positive. You must. For yourself. For your child. For your family. They all need you.

We’ve funnelled our emotions into a campaign to raise funds for raising awareness for childhood mental illness. My son will help allocate the money raised and present it to organizations he believes are doing great work in the area of childhood mental illness. If you’ve yet to donate, please consider doing so. We’d be forever grateful. If you have donated already…THANK YOU!

Please continue to talk about this. It’s more important than you could possibly know.

CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO OUR CAMPAIGN to raise awareness for childhood mental illness. Thank you.

Filed Under: A Word About Family, Evolution of Parenting, Uncategorized Tagged With: Childhood anxiety, childhood mental health, childhood mental illness, depression, supporting mental illness

© 2025 LINDSAYGEE.CA | Website by LL
 

Loading Comments...