“You’re one of the strongest moms I know. If you can’t do it, I can’t either.”

My friend’s words jumped out of the text at me, hitting me right in the gut. That negative voice in my head, always lurking just beneath the surface, was quick to question her view of me. 

How could it be that someone sees me as strong when lately all I feel is weak, a growing sense that I am a failure, and the notion that I am shrinking away from everyone?

How could it be that despite the fog of depression and anxiety that has lately filled my head once again, I could appear to have it all together to others?

How could it be that my outward projection is such a contradiction to my inner thoughts about myself?

Which view of me is the correct one? Her view or my own? 

“I always think of you when I am in a bad spot and wonder what you would do.”

This time her words hit me even deeper. They cut through the nonsense in my head and brought some clarity to me. 

She had no way of knowing my inner struggles, but something I was doing or saying was acting as a lifeline for her. Somehow, despite nearly drowning in my own despair, I was serving as a beacon of hope for her at times. 

Maybe, just maybe, that voice in my head was wrong. 

Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to be that beacon of hope for myself. 

Her words echoed in my head that night and kept me awake for hours as I reflected more and more about what it meant to be a source of hope for someone.

I realized that I can’t give up. None of us can. 

We have no idea who is watching us, who is holding on to their last thread of hope thinking, If she can’t do it, neither can I.

We have no idea who is wondering what we would do if we were in their shoes, using us and our experiences to help guide them through their troubles. 

Look around. Someone somewhere is watching you, desperately looking for signs of hope and a sense of guidance. Maybe it’s one of your closest friends, a family member, a neighbor, a mom who sees you in the drop-off line at school, a coworker, an online friend, a stranger at the grocery store, someone reading your words—it doesn’t matter who it is, but they need you to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep believing in yourself. 

If you can’t do it, they can’t either.

Originally published 11/27/20 on Her View From Home: https://herviewfromhome.com/dear-mama-you-are-stronger-than-you-think/

As I was listening to my sons tell me all about their impromptu baseball practice session at the field the other day, critiquing each other’s stance, swing and follow through, I realized that life is a lot like getting up to bat in baseball.

The People

Your fans
Behind you are your friends. They are the people in the crowd who are there for you and want you to do your best. They know when you need to be cheered on and when you need them to be quiet. They get you.

Fans of the other team
Behind you may also be some people who are not your friends. They wouldn’t mind seeing you strike out because they are there to root for someone else.

People only there for the snacks
Then there are the people that are just acquaintances. They are the people behind you who are totally uninterested in what you are doing — they are taking selfies on their phones and carrying on about something totally unrelated to your at-bat. Even though they are neutral, you still might not want to make an error in front of them.

Your coaches
Then there are your role models. They are your coaches. You look to them for guidance and advice. They motivate and push you.

The umps
Let’s not forget about the authority figures in your life. Perhaps they are bosses or others who are quick to judge you. They are the Umps, ready to call you “out.”

Your teammates
But, as you make your way to the plate, you also feel the presence of your team. Your success is their success. Your failure will also be felt by them. Maybe they are cheering you on, chanting your name, reminding you that they believe in you.

Your opponents
Then there is the other team — waiting in the outfield, watching your every move. Willing you to strike out and send them a nice pop fly.

Does any of that seem a bit like how real life goes?

It does for me.

I can identify people in each of those roles: fans for my team, fans for the other team, neutral acquaintances, people quick to judge or point out my errors and also my team who has my back.

Once you are in the batter’s box, all that other stuff fades away as you face off with the pitcher.

The Fear

• What if you swing and miss?
• What if the pitcher throws a crazy ball and you get hit?
• What if you get hurt?
• What if you completely strike out?
• What if you let yourself down?
• Worse yet, what if you let your team down?

I have seen countless batters step into that box throughout my years as a baseball mom. One single bad experience can set some kids into an incredible slump. Great hitters suddenly freeze, afraid to swing the bat. Some confident batters suddenly find themselves jumping out of the box because they have grown afraid of being hit by a ball again. Others lose their focus and can no longer seem to make contact with the ball. I have spent many seasons cheering on my sons, hearing coaches remind them that baseball is in large part about confidence, focus and staying in the box.

Look around. What is it like in your batter’s box of life now?
1. ​Who is cheering you on?
2. Who wants you to strike out?
3. Who is part of your team?
4. How are they supporting and encouraging you?
5. Who are your coaches and how do they motivate and bring out the best in you?
6. How does it feel in your batter’s box?
7. Do you need to make some changes to your stance?
​8. What are you thinking when you step into the batter’s box?
9. Is your fear of striking out so great that you just stand there, frozen, as the pitched balls fly by you, hoping they are called balls and not strikes?
10. Are you so scared of being hurt that you back out of the box on each pitch?
11. Do you lack confidence in yourself so you find yourself closing your eyes and swinging wildly at any pitch?​

As you move through this week, notice all of the children who are taking to the fields with their gloves, bats and balls. Let those images be a reminder to you to take some time to reflect on your life and what it is like in your batter’s box.
​
How can you regain your confidence, drown out the negative noise behind you, lean in, keep your eye on the ball and smash it out of the park?

My therapy sessions with my patients have grown heavy once again — especially for my patients that work in healthcare.

Day after day they share, with tear filled eyes, their overwhelming fatigue. They stare blankly ahead at the telehealth screen as they describe lying awake night after night, too exhausted and overwhelmed to find sleep.

Each patient and their story is different but the common theme is the same — burnout.

Complete and total burnout.

So many question their career choice — for many of them have felt failed by their employers.

So many question their own humanity — for they now dread going to work and being around people.

So many question their future — for the passion that they once felt for their work is now nowhere to be found.

Like so many of us they are crawling, bruised and broken, toward some nebulous finish line on the horizon.

Sometimes as we near the end of a session, they will stop me and ask me if I am doing ok.

“How are YOU managing it all?”

They are caregivers by nature and struggle to keep the focus on themselves-even during their own therapy session.

But I think they are mostly looking for signs of hope.

Hope is what is missing most now.

Hope is what is needed most now.

In times of great sorrow, loss, and tragedy it is hope that keeps us tethered to our life and to each other.

Hope that something and someone can be consistent.

Hope for brighter days.

Hope for rest.

Hope for passions to be reborn.

Hope to enjoy the world again.

Hope to make it to tomorrow.

As you crawl toward the finish line right now, find hope.

Find it anywhere you can.

And hold onto it.

“You’re one of the strongest moms I know. If you can’t do it, I can’t either.”

My friend’s words jumped out of the text at me, hitting me right in the gut. That negative voice in my head, always lurking just beneath the surface, was quick to question her view of me. 

How could it be that someone sees me as strong when lately all I feel is weak, a growing sense that I am a failure, and the notion that I am shrinking away from everyone?

Originally published on Her View From Home. Click HERE for full article.