40 Days of Weird

Don't be a hater. Christmas is fun

I don't mind telling you that I go to therapy once a month. I don't think that should be any more surprising than telling you that I go to the doctor when I have a sore throat. I am single mom of 5 kids with varying degrees of need and I have a trauma history of my own that leads me to a high ACE score and a propensity to fall in love with alcoholics. Of course I need caring competent adult to bounce things off of. Help me expose the stigma of getting treatment for mental illness for what it is. I remember many years ago sitting in a foster parent meeting. One of the CPS workers was  explaining that she had just discovered that one of the foster parents she worked with was in therapy. Gasp! She stated that if any of us were attending counseling or receiving mental health services the department would need to know about it. I understand that if a foster parent had a serious mental illness the department would need to know. Just as if they would need to know if you had a serious physical illness and you were caring for vulnerable children. But I wonder why it is necessary to shame people for reaching out. I long for the day when people feel as comfortable saying I have a counseling appointment today as they do saying I have a dentist appointment today. Mental illness is not like fight club. We can talk about it. So I have a wonderful therapist. She listens to my hair brained ideas and usually is on board with my crazy schemes. She hardly ever says I told you so. We can spend the whole hour talking about how something is a really bad idea and I shouldn't do it. And at the end of the hour she doesn't even act surprised when I say I am going to go ahead and do it anyway. But seriously y'all. Her insight and listening ear have been invaluable. And, truth be told, she usually lets me talk until I come to my own conclusion about what is healthy or right or helpful for my life. So imagine my surprise when she seemed unimpressed when I explained my project 50 idea. As I talked she slowly started typing on her lap top. She does that when I say something weird or noteworthy. She peered at me over her computer and asked me if I was doing this as a way to stay busy so I don't have to deal with that other thing we were talking about. Wait. What? Was she really not getting this. She is usually so tuned into my ideas. This is not a time filler idea. I have plenty of crap to keep me busy for decades. I'm trying to get my shit together here. Why was she not as excited about this as I was. Then it dawned on me that not everybody is going to get it. To some people this might seem like a strange idea. Then it also occurred to me that I really don't care. Because the more I talk about my ideas and put my goals in front of my face the more achievable they become. Because my kids are watching. They see my list up on the wall. They see me get out my notebook every night and check off the things that I have accomplished. They are invested in helping me plan family date nights and being a part of helping make welcome bags for kids. They are sitting at the table with me when I write letters to friends and loved ones and they are writing their own letters right along with me. My teenagers are helping me make the monthly budget and seeing where our money is going. They are watching me when I fail. They are seeing me say "well that didn't work. let me try again" They are in this. And a lot of my friends and family do get it. I have cheerleaders that I never expected. I am only 40 days into this project and I am having fun. My 15 year old and I found an app for my phone that shows what I would look like bald. We were sitting on my bed downloading pictures and laughing until we were gasping for air. And its inspiring. Last week we went thru the drive thru at McDonalds and I got one too many fries. We saw a homeless guy sitting on the curb with a sign. I thought here was a chance to do a random act of kindness. I tell you this not to toot my own horn. Usually when we see a homeless person my kids ask me to give them money and I explain that the best way we can help homeless people is to give to organizations that help homeless people like the Hope Center or the Cornerstone Mission. I always explain that even if we can not give money we can always give respect by looking people in the eye and not turning away. We can always say good morning or hello because often homeless people feel over looked or invisible. But this day I said "Michael. Hop out and give this guy these fries" My 14 year old ran over to the guy and handed him the food. As we pulled away my son said "Look at that mom. He's digging in!" From the back seat my 8 year old yelled "We helped a guy!" My 15 year old asked "What if he is not even homeless. What if he is a faker?" I explained that it's not even our job to decide. We just gave a hungry guy some fries and that all we need to worry about. I don't think they will forget it. I may be odd. That's ok. But stay tuned. This journey has just begun. Wait until you see my bald head riding down the street on my new bike with my make up on point and my well trained dog running along side of me on the way to some fun family outing with my crazy kids. I do it my way y'all. I'm getting my shit together.

The gang 

At the doctor for my leg appointment

Family trip to Sioux Falls

Carving our Scary Steve Pumpkins