Most of my family and friends know that of January that Brett and I were expecting to receive into this world our first child in late August or early September. Unfortunately, our son Alexander went to heaven on March 27, 2018. We were blessed with many people around us that understood, and did not expect us to “get over it”. There was one that thinks that I should have already moved on and does not understand how the death of this little one can make my anxiety and depression worse. News Flash it does. I mostly avoid that person, however, he is the priest of my parish. I have many who stand with me and supports me.
Now I realize that I am blessed because just this last month, on August 17th I was admitted to the River Oaks mental facility in New Orleans LA. Many I met there did not have a good support group, and one other young lady there also had a miscarriage like I did. She is stronger than I am that is for sure. She has gone through so much on her own, more than I have, and she did not have a good support group. Family members that should be there for you, were absent or abusive in her life. I was blessed with an awesome mother and father that when Alexander died, came to spend Easter with us so that we will not be alone. I met some whose families were like mine and very supportive, yet like me, did not know how to ask them for help. We want to take care of ourselves.
We are taught in school that it is COOL to be independent and do everything by ourselves. We are not taught how to ask for help, and when we do ask for help in school, we are made to feel dumb sometimes by our peers. Sometimes we want to be a good friend, mother, or daughter, and say yes to things that we just are not comfortable with. Take for instance, this weekend. My mother offered me a pants suit, that by the ways looks good on her and is her style, not mine. Normally I would just take it and let it collect dust in my closet before the cat or cats would pull it down and poop on it. This time I told her no thanks. A little happy dance for me as it too me was a small victory. I told mother no. I would rather it go to one of the places that she donates too than be destroyed by cats, because I could not say no.
I am learned while I was at the facility, that I need to ask for help and to tell those that wish to support me what I need them to do to help me. To tell people what I really mean. Yes too mean yes instead of saying yes to avoid conflict. That it is better to sometimes say no and protect your mental health in the beginning instead of suffering later. I learned that sometimes despite the odds, we can find others to help us on the road to healing. Sometimes it just means, ask for help; say no instead of yes all the time; to count your blessings, for the are more numerous than the curses in your life.
Frances Lejeune is a student at Catholic Distance University and is a Theology Major. She is expected to receive her Associates June of 2019. She also writes about day to day life about living with depression, anxiety and loss.