Healthy Family Advice

Can't We All Just Get Along?

The last few articles have been on the subject of mental health and the breakup of the family unit. As the family situation changes, so do the matters of family concern. Of course, how you deal with these changes affect the future mental health of your children, but don’t forget to take care of yourself. As mentioned in a previous article, “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” My advice is this, self-care is a key element to a happy, healthy family, but be careful, don't over do it.

                                                  This post contains Amazon and other affiliate links.

If you’ve come off a long-term, unhealthy relationship, chances are you’ve been neglecting self-care. Self-care is key to your happiness. Newly separated or divorced individuals might choose to jump out into the dating scene. At first, it's exciting and new. If you've been in a bad situation, going out on dates and having fun can feel like self-care, but you need to be careful that all that good time fun having doesn’t lead to an even more unhealthy rebound relationship. Just like our children, we need to make healthy choices.

Practice being alone. I can’t emphasize this enough. Spend time alone. As much time as it takes for you to get over the pain. And as much time as you need to grow as a person. Learn from your mistakes and take care of yourself.  As I age, I see intelligent women jumping into relationships. Perhaps, they’ve been a stay-at-home mom. Maybe they’ve never held a full-time job. Some never had the chance to go to college. They’ve never managed their own finances. Often, they feel like they just can’t handle the responsibilities of taking care of themselves and their children. So, they go out on a man hunt. The goal is to find a better man than the last one. Some are looking for a man to meet their financial expectations, others are looking for companionship, and some are looking for a father figure for their children. Whatever the reason, they jump into a relationship too soon. Been there done that. 

Healthy Family

I got married while still in college. It was okay. Just okay. I wanted to be happy, but we were young and a lot was missing in the relationship. At that point in my life, the idea of a wedding was more important than the idea of a marriage. We were friends and companions struggling to find common ground, but something was always missing. Both of us had placed our focus on gaining knowledge and prepping for a career and little attention was given to intimacy. As starving college students, there was no money for fun things and then we jumped into buying a house, and then another house, and then it all just got way too overwhelming. There was simply no fun to be had.

Eventually, we talked to friends, family, and clergy. We attended counseling. It all pointed to the same thing, we just didn’t have the same goals or the same outlook on life. We ended the relationship in an amicable fashion. And that’s when my real troubles started. I briefly dated, but playing the field has never been my thing. Dating in your late 20’s is an experience that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Ugh. It’s a brave new world. With my thirtieth birthday looming over my head, I really wanted to settle down and start a family before it was too late. I had some great men to choose from, two were truly amazing with interesting careers. One was neither amazing, nor did he have a great career. He was lucky to hold down a job. But he had what I wanted. A little girl. My family doctor and the counselor both advised against any serious relationship or even dating after the first year of a breakup, but my biological clock was ticking. Tick tock. Having been told I likely could never have children, I jumped at the chance. 

However, that wasn’t the only thing. He was fun. Oh so fun! He loved to dance, hike, bike, play sports, cook, and clean. One day, he called me one of the “cools.” I had been feeling lost. I was never cool. I wanted to do all those things I felt I’d missed out on in high school and college. Except I didn’t. I was still that goody two shoes inside. His risky lifestyle stressed me out. We fought. Among other things, he drank. He was verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive. It was like a dark movie from one of those cable tv channels for women. That was my first rebound.

After that, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to pick myself up again. I had a lot of counseling. I saw a psychiatrist. I took various medications. Was I suicidal? Not really, but it seemed like life had gotten the best of me. I felt like a failure in every way imaginable. No kids, no career to speak of, and no real chance to recover from all the despair because, in my head, I was old. Oh, so old. I turned to online dating. It was uplifting to have so many men interested in dating me. It was also terrifying. That was the start of rebound number two. Not only did I not wait a year to date, in only a few short months I had moved in with a man and was pregnant. At the time, it seemed like he had everything I wanted. A good job, two kids, pets, a nice home. He was a widower and that (like the alcoholism before him) fulfilled my need for codependency. I had something to do, people to take care of, and dreams to fulfill. Except, we were less compatible than the previous rebound relationship. Shortly after my son was born, I became pregnant again.

Things weren’t ideal, but I always questioned myself. Why not? Maybe I was the problem. I should’ve been content. I was determined to make it work. I mean, after all, he wasn’t abusing me. He yelled a lot. It triggered old feelings from the previous relationship. I cried a lot. It made him mad. I cried more. It was an endless cycle. We barely knew each other. We met online. We were both lonely. As it came to be that he was my only friend for many years, we were really never friends. We both tried. The harder I tried, the more difficult it got. And now, there were kids involved. I didn’t want to break up the family unit. I didn’t want my kids to come from a broken home. Ugh, the damage I did to all of us by trying to stick this one out. We were the absolute opposite of compatible. I will spare you the gory details.

I had so many health issues. I spent months in bed, with nothing more to do than reflect on my past. I knew it had to end. But I was scared. Could I do it alone? Was I strong enough? I started stepping up my game, working harder from home, seeing various specialists and improving my health, and building credit. Once I knew what had to be done, I still wasn’t ready to do it. Things finally worked out in a way that made ending the relationship the most logical decision. It was difficult, but I didn’t need to seek counseling. I threw myself into my work, my writing, and the remodeling of my new house.

After years of thinking about it, deep down, I knew if I were ever to have another relationship again, I’d have to be strong. I’d have to take care of myself first, I’d need a break. I wrote down the pros and cons of dating. Months passed. I thought about what I wanted. What I needed, who I wanted and why. I realized I didn’t need a man to be happy. But I wanted that companionship that had eluded me for most of my life.

Why it's okay to Need a Man

It was always the same set of traits that had always led me to the same conclusion. But, I didn’t want to make the wrong choice with the right choice. So, naively, I  attempted to play the field again, but I didn’t date. I just talked. I talked to several old friends and acquaintances. This time no online dating, no strangers. I weaned them all out. I settled on one for an attempt at dating. We talked for weeks before meeting in person. I knew him from high school. He seemed to fit the criteria. But low and behold, it was a mistake. A big mistake, but one I wanted to cling to because I was sad and lonely. I had basically given up. I was about to turn fifty. There was no more time for mistakes. If I thought dating in my late twenties was hard - whoa. In your fifties, it’s a whole new frontier. Casual dating wasn’t an option for me. 

I took a few weeks to get myself together. I pulled out my list again, and this time, I realized what I always needed had always been there. Sometimes, you just need a friend.

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Are Your Personal Intimacy Issues Affecting the Family Unit?

Is your relationship in trouble? Straying from our regular blog topics, we’ve been writing a series on mental health. Turns out something that sounds like a very adult subject matter, has a wider effect on our personal lives. Personal intimacy issues. Say what? 

This post contains Amazon and other affiliate links. All opinions are my own.

Generally, when we think of personal intimacy issues we think about sex. However, personal intimacy can also mean emotional intimacy. Many people struggle with emotional intimacy and over time, this alone can break a relationship. You don’t have to be sexually active to struggle with emotional intimacy issues. In fact, emotional intimacy issues can contribute to sexual intimacy. 

Depending on your family situation, you could be setting your kids up for emotional disaster. How do you raise healthy, emotionally intelligent children? Obviously, if we had all the answers, everyone on Earth would be emotionally stable, but life happens, right? 

Depression, anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, bi-polar disorder, and a variety of other common mental health issues can lead to a lifetime of difficulties in interpersonal relationships. If you can’t get along with family members, you’re likely not going to get along with peers or co-workers and your intimate relationships are going to suffer.

If you notice a family member struggling with interpersonal relationships, what can you do? The first step is to identify the problem. What is causing the mental health issue? It could be a chemical imbalance, childhood trauma, abuse, or even neglect.

If your children suffer, the next step is to get help. Whether you seek out a therapist in your community or find help online, getting an outside perspective is key to improving your situation. If the family dynamic is suffering due to personal intimacy issues between the parents, there are many resources online that can help. 

However, I know from personal experience that it can be difficult to get both partners on the same page. Sometimes, one partner would rather throw in the towel than ask for help from an outside source. I’ve been told that if you need an outsider to help, it’s far too late. Other people may feel uncomfortable or embarrassed to talk about their personal intimacy issues. For more information on common intimacy issues visit this link:  https://www.regain.us/advice/intimacy/common-intimacy-issues-and-how-to-deal-with-them/

When parents aren’t emotionally or physically connected, the children often face emotional issues as well, and can suffer from neglect. Parents can get so wrapped up in their personal problems, that they neglect their children without even realizing it. The key to a happy, healthy family is to keep all of the cogs working cohesively. Immediately after the breakup of our family, as they watched me fall apart, my children seemed surprisingly well adjusted. 

However, whether they knew it or not, they were holding it together, trying to be strong for mom. As time passed and I grew stronger and more sure about my own choices, my children began to show the after effects of the reality of a broken family. They withdrew, became emotional, and even aggressive at times. It seemed their entire personalities had changed in a few short weeks. 

Not only were we dealing with the break of our family unit, but the raging hormones of the wonderful land of teendom had conveniently coincided with it.  While there’s no good time for a breakup, note to self, the early teenage years have got to be worse. If I had to go back in time and do it all over again, I would do it sooner. My relationship with their father wasn’t good for any of us. Our personalities were not compatible and no amount of trying or counseling were going to improve it.

I struggled with perfectionism and obsessive-compulsive disorder, admitting the relationship wasn’t meant to be was extremely difficult for me. It took my children growing up and becoming reasonable, rational human beings who could recognize that the situation was impossible to repair, to give me the kick in the butt that I needed to move forward with my life. Unfortunately, all of this took a toll on their emotional well-being. 

If you’re facing a difficult situation in your relationship, don’t be afraid or embarrassed to seek out help. Don’t wait until the issues are out of control and beyond repair. Though humans are resilient, many mental health issues can get worse over time. Be sure you’re doing everything you can to satisfy the needs of your children and protect not only their physical, but also their emotional well- being.

 

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Step on a Crack Break Your Mother's Back Dealing with OCD

Dealing with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) ~ "Step on a crack break your mother's back"

My musings on life and obsessive compulsive disorder.

Sunday Food for Thought

I write with the human spirit in mind - Christians, Agnostics, Atheists, and Others:

This Sunday, I take a moment to reflect on the eccentricities of me.  Please be gracious and ignore any typos or grammatical errors today.  I will edit them later after I've had a break from writing.  Read on to learn why-

Last week my little ones and myself were baptized.  We are four, six, and forty-one.  The other members of  our family were baptized as infants in the Catholic church long before we met. They stood up for us.

I am not a religious person.  I am, however, extremely spiritual.

You might be wondering, Why?  Why haven't we been baptized yet.  Or why do it at all?

I have some peculiar answers to those questions and I have decided to share the deepest interworkings of my brain on OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I am a recovering Obsessive Compulsive. These days, it has become a popular turn of phrase.  So many people joke about it- maybe they joke because they fear it.

I expect Tom Cruise has an opinion on OCD and religion, but I digress.

Most of us can find something about ourselves that is compulsive or even obsessive.  It may be embarassing but it is unlikely that it greatly reduces the quality of your life or well-being.  My brain on OCD stifled my quality of life in many ways.

For example, as a child I had been an avid reader.  I read most of the classics by the fourth grade.  I.E.  Jane Eyre,  Wuthering Heights, Tom Sawyer, Pollyanna, Of Mice and Men, etc.  I read the Communist Manifesto in sixth grade, you get the picture. 

In college, I became incapable of reading.  I could not read the Bible, a text book, a script, or even a newspaper.  My life had changed.  I sat in class and struggled to stay awake taking explicit notes that I would not be able to study later.  I had hoped writing the information down would help my brain retain it for the test.

Before this particular OCD trait afflicted me, I made the Dean's List with a 4.0.  I was accepted into the College of Architecture and Planning.  My future looked bright.

One day, I woke up with numerous health concerns all of which grew worse with stress.  Suddenly, I could no longer read.  As I read, the words would mock me and block me from reading any further.  A simple word like 'but' was impossible to get past.  In my head, the word didn't read correctly and I'd have to read it again until it fit the right pace. 

This is difficult to explain.  It makes no sense.  As I type, I can akin it to my typing issues.

I type a sentence. I type a sentne   I type a I type a sen   I type a senten   I type a sentence.  If I catch a typo, I must immediately correct it.  I do not erase only to the misspelling.  I must erase the entire word or sentence depending on my level of stress.   Currently, that level is low.  I misspelled level like this levle.  I deleted only the last l and completed the word lev- level.  Are you with me?

This type of compulsion is frustrating.  It slows me down and takes up time, but it does not affect the quality of my life- at this time.  If I were to become obessesed with writing this post perfectly and completing it quickly, conceivably I could sit here for hours without eating lunch or dinner or cleaning the house.

Luckily, I have learned to work around these blips in my brain.  Sharing the affliction with others helps too.  Family and friends can hold me accountable.  Jokes work but shame just aggravates the disorder.  It's a very fine line.

Remember in grade school when you said, (Yes, I am talking to YOU) "Step on a crack, break your Mother's back?"  Did you step on cracks?  I remember kids jumping over them on the sidewalk, I remember other kids stomping on the cracks, still others just walked across them without thinking anything of it at all.

What did I do? I struggled.  I didn't want people to stare at me.  I didn't believe if I stepped on a crack my mother's back would immediately break.  I shut my eyes.  Sometimes, I held my breath.  I had to step over the crack to get to class.  I couldn't draw attention to myself. 

When people teased me or even just looked at me funny, I turned pomegranate.  So, I developed a pace.  Walking with my stride paced perfectly I could avoid all pre-planned cracks. If the sidewalk had cracked from the elements I could not avoid jumping or bumping into my neighbor.

As a teenager, I tried switching off my bedroom light and jumping into my bed from across the room before the light went out.  Of course, I knew this was impossible. I hoped to avoid walking on the floor in the dark.  Apparently, the monsters under my bed stayed idle until the lights were off. 

Luckily, I was a smart cookie.  I would go to bed early and read until my brother or parents came to bed then I would holler at them, "Can you please turn my light off?"  Problem solved.

OCD has nothing to do with intelligence or the ability to tell right from wrong or sanity from insanity.

Intellectually, I knew the act of stepping on a crack would not break my mother's back.  Spiritually, I believed God was watching over me.  I could pray to save her back.

But there is always that 'What if?'  What if a coincidence occured and something bad happened after I stepped on a crack?  What if something bad happened if I stepped on my floor in the dark?  Perhaps, I'd step on a spider or a mouse?  What if I read the word wrong and I failed the test?  What if I made a mistake and someone I loved died.  What if...

Coincidences are grueling.  Oprah says there are no coincidences.  Don't tell that to an OCD.  The strand of logic is broken.  If this = that, then that caused this with no relative cause to rhyme or reason.

In fourth grade, (I've discussed this before) we were given a card to fill out.  One of the questions asked for religious affiliation.  My parents never went to church, occasionally I went with an Aunt.  Distraught over the question I took it home and asked my mother what to say.  I didn't want to write n/a.  What would people think? 

"We're Christians, write that."
"We don't go to church!"
"We believe in Jesus.  That makes us Christians."
"They want to know what church we go to!  I go to different churches."
"Just, put Protestant on the line.  It will be fine."
"I don't want them to know I'm Protestant!"
"We are not Catholic.  We believe in Jesus.  You are Protestant."

I didn't exactly understand.

"I haven't been baptized. I'm not Christian."
"You've been baptized."
"When?"
"Oh, I don't know, but you've been baptized."
"Were you there?"  "How come I don't remember?"
"It was a long time ago."  "Just drop it.  I'll fill out your card."

After that, I went to church as much as I could. I had several offers to be baptized. I wanted to be baptized.  I didn't want to be a sinner.  I  had heard the stories.  But I felt my family should be there with me. I was also filled with fear.

I saw kids slammed in the head, and people immersed in creeks, and holy water splashed in faces, and hands hovered over heads...  Pastors, Preachers, Priests, Ministers, Reverends.  The only thing I didn't see was a Rabbi.

I didn't want to do something so important without my family there. 

They weren't coming.  People, asking me to persuade them to come, only stressed me out more and kicked in my fears that something bad would happen.  I couldn't think about that- it would greatly reduce my quality of life. 

Besides, what if I did get baptized and some ironic twist of fate took my life.  I know, I know, I know...   Christian friends.  Nothing to fear.  But I had something to fear, losing my family forever.
To believe or not to believe- That IS the question.

OCD was mostly controllable throughout my life; afflictions came and went.  If you'd like to learn more about them or share some of your own drop me a note and we'll swap odd stories.  thehollyjollyone@yahoo.com

In college and after, I did a bunch of Catholic stuff.  Marriage classes, counseling, and etc.  Not only must you have documentation of baptism but you must be confirmed and generally a member to take part in communion.  I'd sit in the pew as everyone filed past me.  Singled out as a sinner, oh the humiliation, oh the OCD reactions it would bring.

A twist of fate, a project  to design a church, introduced me to the Episcopalian Church.  The bridge between Catholics and Protestants.  Although I frequented many churches since the initial introduction, this version of Christianity had struck a chord of acceptance in me.

My mother once told me that she did not want to baptize me into a particular religion.  It would be my choice and not a label that someone else had imposed.

I grappled with this idea when my children were born.  I also feared death.  What if they die without being baptized.  Do I care?  Does it matter? 

The  twenty-minute ride home from the hospital after their birth was the longest drive of my life and the lowpoint of my OCD.  I am surprised that I lived through it without suffering a nervous breakdown.

I guess, I didn't.  It was insane. Totally insane... and I did it twice.

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't sit still, I couldn't look out the windows, I couldn't look away from my child, I couldn't live and enjoy the moment.  OCD had taken its toll and sheer panic had taken hold.  I didn't sleep for four years.  I had to make sure the children kept breathing throughout the night.  You laugh, you think surely I jest.  I can assure you this is no joke.

When the unreligious/unchurched die my mother often says, "Don't worry a preacher was there."  "They were baptized before they died."  Who is worrying me or you?  I suppose it matters somewhere to someone but does it matter to me?  I've heard a lot of people say, "Well, it can't hurt."  That's true, isn't it?

Forget about me, I wanted to baptized the children.  No matter what they decide later on they will be saved as long as they believe in their hearts, right?  But, OCD kept blocking me.  What if I baptize them and they get killed in a car accident on the way home?

Yeah, yeah, yeah - God and such.  BUT what IF?
Oh, the irony.  Oh, the dread, how could I live with myself?

Either way, I live in fear.  I live in shame.  What if they get sick and die before they've been baptized? 

Can you feel the stress building?  It's been six long years with very little sleep.

At the height of my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, I lived with an alcoholic.  I attended AA meetings. I took away the best lessons ever, "Let go and let God" and "Live and let Live".

Choose a phrase that best fits you - it works.

I am a recovering Obsessive Compulsive.  I lived in a funk.  A fog of worry hovered over my life.

I let it go for too long.  The biggest fear I had  last week, while getting baptized at the age of forty-one, "What would the congregation think of me?"  I have become an active member of the church.  I was embarassed and ashamed that I had waited for so long.

Irony is to blame but there is something else too -

My family and friends.  What if something happens to them before they get the chance?  Do I care?  Do they?  Does it matter?  The problem is, I just don't have an answer.

I don't care what you believe or where you go or where you don't go, but I want to go with the people I love and I want them to go with me.  Wherever.

I know some people don't like church.  I know some people fear it.  I know some people feel ashamed. I know some people don't care.  I know lots of those people have Jesus in their hearts and lots of them don't but most of them are good people, either way.  What I don't know is if any of it matters.

Some people need more.  I needed more.  A heavy weight has been lifted from my back.

Now, I can not only live and let live but also let go and let God.

If my children choose something different, that's okay. 
If they go astray and come back another day, that's okay too.

I no longer have to worry about the What if's.  For me, no matter how many cracks I step on, it's in God's hands now.  I can't change fate.

Years of habits will take years to break- don't be surprised if you catch me pacing my steps to avoid the cracks.

And what did the congregation say?  "Congratulations on your baptisms." 

That was that, so simple, so easy, and so many fears washed away with a simple splash.

This Sunday, I breathe easier than last. 

What's on your list?  Keep moving forward!