Building Back Better

“And then my brain betrayed me.” 

“Do you think it betrayed you, or did it protect you?”  

A little background:

I spent the week learning and exploring in DC with Rural Leadership North Dakota. The experience was both energizing and exhausting, leaving me feeling both optimistic and dismal. I was simultaneously dazzled by the charisma and knowledge of those chosen to lead our country and disappointed by the messages lacking substance and consistent defeatism by several of the leaders we met with, disguising these traits in cheeky jokes about the futility of politics and government. I also struggled to sit back and listen when some of our leaders, after hearing our concerns regarding issues back home, passed the buck on several of the rural issues raised, noting that in their eyes they are “local issues.”

One of the issues I raised while we had the privilege of speaking with our legislators Hoeven, Cramer, and Armtstrong was mental health, particularly in small communities like Hettinger. The responses they gave, though eloquent, were not substantive. When pressed on the availability of mental health services in rural areas, particularly the western half of the state, they seemed to think telehealth is our savior, and it ought to be sufficient. They didn’t seem to realize that even efforts to identify professionals outside of our area and beyond the borders of our state are often met with rejections or long wait times.

Absolutely I felt their sympathy for our ag producers facing immensely difficult years ahead with natural disasters, market volatility, and rising input costs. And it was clear that they knew COVID is a major concern. What I didn’t hear, though, in their responses was an understanding of the desperation of small community leaders fighting for their dying communities. I didn’t hear from them the struggles of young leaders taking on careers and childcare and cash flow for their families amidst a pandemic. I didn’t hear the sorrow of youth who’ve lost not only two years of experiences typically important to their formative young years like proms and graduations, but also loved ones and stability and that one place they may have felt safe, loved, and fed. They didn’t convey the weight of the little things: the nearly weightless feathers in the grand scheme that when placed upon our boulder-laden backs send us toppling over. 

I have a hunch that although they weren't able to convey their concern or personal understanding of these issues in the abbreviated conversations we had time for, they too struggle. I’ve come to adopt the assumptions that everyone is struggling with mental health, including our elected officials and celebrities and role models. Mental health, however, requires leaders willing to be real about mental health. And so, as I’ve chatted with my fellow RLND leaders on the jaunts between meeting locations and laid in my hotel bed in the company of only my racing thoughts, I keep returning to the responses to my last blog post. 

Although I didn’t write Breaking Down & Building Up in search of prayers or praise, I expected those things would follow and, my goodness: I cannot tell you all how loved I’ve felt in the days and weeks that have followed those two seconds of bravery it took to post my blog. 

What was shocking in the days and weeks that followed, however, were the number of people who reached out to share their mental health challenges, noting that they felt like I finally put words to the physical experiences of anxiety and depression that are so hard to convey. The responses were overwhelming, and I am so grateful for the conversations that followed. I reconnected with best friends from as far back as middle school, college classmates, and friends scattered across the globe who related to my story.

For every word of encouragement I heard, there was a thank you that followed from others struggling for putting words to their experiences. My conversations with these friends and family – with you, my readers, touched on everything, front the challenges of parenthood and imposter syndrome to COVID and vocation. From money and family to the big things and the little. We chatted about focusing on our communities while balancing concern for our world. Above all, because of a few seconds of bravery, people have been kinder and braver, more genuine and more open. My blog opened the door for the conversations people have been craving and opportunities to connect more genuinely we all have been needing. It allowed people to put down their packs for a moment, open up regarding their mental health struggles and unload their struggles. 

This sharing of burdens can be incredibly valuable: we often hold our hurting close, scared to share for fear of judgment or burden, but when we allow ourselves to open up to others we: create safety nets ensuring we have loved ones who know to check in; invite others to feel safe enough to share their challenges; have an opportunity to commiserate, normalizing mental health and reminding people that more people suffer than not.

Mental health is for us all, and it’s not a glamorous spa day and a cushy couch at the therapist’s. It’s messy and emotional. It’s challenging and hard work. It's deeply personal and it’s profoundly universal. And more than anything, it’s work that should be shared. 

Since my last blog post, I’ve devoted a lot of time and energy to this work worth sharing. I’ve worked with Frank to develop solutions to the workload that having a toddler, a full-time job, and a business are first to be neglected. I’ve tapered off from my last medication and begun a new medication to help manage my depression and anxiety. I’ve lined up counseling and will begin next week. I’ve been intentional in my conversations with friends and family about avoiding the “how’s it going,” “good, you,” “good” cycle that tends to be numb, ingenuine, and in some ways prohibitive in caring for others and allowing others to care for us. And finally, believe it or not, I have said no.To events that will cut into my Harry Potter cuddle sessions with Frank, Josie and Luna at the end of the day and to projects that don’t light a fire in my belly. Was I graceful? Probably not. Was I confident in my decision to say no? Also no. Have I said no every time I should have? Certainly not. But I’ve said the word, and I’ve done some of the necessary but messy work so I can get back to my best self. 

Despite this hard work, I continue to waver between the ever present imposter syndrome and the feeling that I’m not doing enough, I’m not achieving enough, I’m not impacting enough. And as my opening conversation demonstrates, I have some harmful thought processes I’m still working to address. In my case, I think my friend is right: my mind and body have not betrayed me. They have done the only things in their power to slow me down and protect me from the unsustainable pressure I’ve placed on myself for most of my life. I know this is not everyone's experience with mental health struggles, but I think it is the experience of many, and this shift in mindset is my next big step in building back better for myself. 

Slowly but surely, though, these intentional efforts have helped not only me, but those around me. And for that reason, I’ll continue working and sharing. I hope you find the courage to do the same, however that looks to you.