The grieving process (for those who hate exercise)!

As a therapist who supports many clients struggling with grief/loss issues, I am very aware that the grieving process (the five stages, a la Elisabeth Kubler-Ross) does not just apply to death. It can apply to ANY loss- a relationship, divorce, jobs, etc.

Recently, as in last week, I received a vivid reminder that grief can even apply to exercise. I hate exercise, but I am training for a 5K because I tell myself "it will be fun". (OK, stop laughing). I was out for my morning run, and in a span of two miles, all of the stages of grief were represented, and here is how they played in my head.

Denial/shock: "This will be great- think of how good you will feel when you are done!" huff/puff/huff "Wow, it's nice and cool out here this morning with a light breeze-- perfect".

Anger: "This humidity sucks- I can barely breathe already and I am only in the first quarter mile going up a hill. And this 'breeze' is blowing right in my face, drying out my mouth". A few steps later, "I hate these &^*&%^$ HILLS! Why am I doing this to myself? Am I a glutton for punishment????"

Bargaining: "OK- when I'm finished, and I get ready for work, I will reward myself with a caramel macchiato from Starbucks. I deserve it". "Come on- just get to the bottom of this hill, then you can walk for a bit."

Depression: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I hate running!" "Why am I such a big loser? Why can't I be one of those people who gets addicted to running and gets that "runners high"? I don't think that is even REAL".

And finally....

Acceptance: "Crystal, It's OK that you don't like running. And you may never LIKE it, but you need to do it, because it's good for you. Stop beating yourself up, and allow your feelings" (like I tell all of my patients, right?)

Acceptance is a good place to end up- it's a positive thing to complete the whole process before I get back home. I never did go get that caramel macchiato...

FUN- the new "F" word!

"Yes, fun -- the "F" word, my friends and I would call it, chiding one another to make sure to have some fun each day. We rarely succeeded; the needs of everyone else always got in the way". From "A Year by the Sea" by Joan Anderson

This quote struck me as the way most moms (and probably dads, too!) probably feel. Why don't we allow ourselves to have fun? Here are some excuses that I hear:

1) My own needs come last (AKA, "I don't have time") Somewhere along the way, either someone told you that your needs aren't as important as everyone elses, or it was modeled to you that that was the case. Perhaps your own mother was the "martyr mom", caring so much about everyone else that she was constantly depleted (and probably crabby!). Perhaps someone in your life told you that doing what you like is "selfish", which carries a negative connotation. But have you heard the saying, "If mom (or dad, or wife, etc etc.) ain't happy, ain't nobody happy"? This is true because if your own needs aren't being met, it is carrying over into your other relationships, whether you want to admit it or not. It is likely leaving you feeling depleted and resentful.

2) I feel guilty when I try to relax.  Similar to messages that we get from our family about putting our own needs last, we also can get messages from our families about being "productive". We also get messages from society that we need to be getting things done: we should be working several hours a week, and when we're not at work (if you leave the home for work) then you must be taking care of your house/kids/yard, etc. "Fun" has become a negative word that implies laziness to a point where you may try to relax, but then find yourself with eight million thoughts going through your head about what you "should" be doing.

3) My husband/wife/daughter/son/boss/mom/dad think that "having fun" is a bad thing. Perhaps someone in your life glares at you when you try to sit down and rest. Or you find yourself sitting for a quiet moment and your child needs you to watch them perform their new magic trick for you "right now". Or perhaps you are relaying your weekend to your co-worker and you mention going out for a night with the girls/the guys and the co-worker says, "Oh, how nice for YOU" in a snarky tone.

When you find yourself feeling guilty or questioning if you are allowed to do something fun and unproductive, instead ask yourself what will happen if you continue to not have fun in your life? Picture someone you know who does not allow any fun, and ask yourself if that is who you would like to be. Is that person someone who you want to model to your partner or children? Start small and find some way to insert some fun into your life- a silly song played loudly in your car (instead of returning phone calls) or reading a chapter from a book instead of washing dishes right that moment. Graduate to bigger things, like a night out with your partner, friends or on your own!! Ask yourself how you feel after, and if it is refreshed, not resentful and even MORE productive, then it was worth it.

                                       

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree....

It's no secret that I am passionate about postpartum mood disorders. Most people also know that I experienced my own story with postpartum depression following the birth of my 2nd child, my daughter, who is now almost 7.
I had coffee with my mom this morning and had a chance to ask her a bit more about her own postpartum experience with me. I knew bits and pieces-- that I had been a difficult, colicky baby. That my mom had dreamed of having more than one child, until she had me. That things had just been tough in my early years. But I really had never asked for more information. Knowing what had happened to me, and the reading I have been doing about how having a PMAD (Postpartum Mood/Anxiety Disorder) can impact early childhood, made me very curious. She went on to tell me more in depth about how difficult it had been for her. We discussed bonding and she said, "I don't think I was able to bond with you until... oh, about a year". Wow. She also reminded me how they had made the move from California to Minnesota, in a car, with no air conditioning, across Death Valley, when I was two weeks old. I was sick often, and very colicky. She had little support.
Knowing what I do now, it really makes sense that my mom was depressed. I remember her being depressed and anxious when I was growing up. I am sure all of that was exacerbated postpartum. And back then, in the 70's, "doctors were so stupid" she said- nobody talked about or knew what PMADs were. I do believe growing up with a mother who had untreated anxiety and depression contributed to my own anxiety and PPD.
Now I have my own daughter (and I don't want to forget how my PPD likely affected my son, who was 2 1/2 when my daughter was born), and I can't help but wonder how my PPD affected her and our relationship. We did not bond for the first five months of her life. In fact, the thing that still breaks my heart is that I don't have a picture of me holding her as an infant. She was very colicky (which we now know was acid reflux and a milk protein intolerance, which it was likely I also had as an infant) and had complications from that. I even had a deliberate plan once to leave her and run away for six months and stay at a hotel.

My goal of writing this blog is not to bring you down. But it's about taking a long hard look at the intergenerational transmission of PMADs and how we need to talk about it. How we need to prevent, or at the very least, identify these issues sooner. My wish is that if my daughter ever has a baby and ever has a PMAD, the best gift I can impart to her is that she needs to speak out about it and get help. Don't suffer in silence. Don't become a statistic. Don't let it linger for months or years, and impact your child long-term. Speak out about it. Write out your birth and postpartum story so you can share it with your kids. And if you are able, talk to your own mother about her birth and postpartum experience. It may be scary and sad, but it can be very informative, and break down the shame of having a postpartum mood disorder.