To The Teacher in Oakland......

Ok, so... it’s no secret.... I love Bravo. Specifically, Real Housewives. Sure it’s mindless and sometimes panic inducing entertainment, but occasionally between Turtle Time and flipping tables, you get little pieces of wisdom. I promise. A few years ago I heard a quote from Caroline Manzo- a cast member- that resonated with me as a mom. My littles were very little, but it made such sense. She said, “As a mother, you are only as happy as your saddest child.” It broke my heart and also opened up a whole new understanding of our hurdles within motherhood. Let's dissect this. Does this mean your happiness should lie solely in your role as a mother or on raising your children? Probably not. Motherhood is so much more complicated than that. What I took from this brutally honest moment was this: as good as your life is, as happy as you are, if your child is suffering or sad, your heart is heavy. As a mother, you will suffer, you will carry the weight of their worries. This is what mothers do. We worry, we love, we solve, we guide - we are the glue. We bind our children with our love and care until they are able to stand tall. When your child is sad and struggling at 5, 15 or 25 - any age really- your happiness will take a different shape. Of course you laugh and of course you smile, but there is an ache and a worry that doesn’t go away..... because how can you truly be happy when your child is so sad? Having a child means sharing a piece of you- your heart and soul- a living being who walks around outside your very own body.  You watch, observing the journey... sometimes helpless, but nevertheless there.  When all cards are laid on the table, my days are pretty good.  We are busy with a “new normal”. Here’s the thing, this pandemic has seeped into all our homes whether we were sick or not. From loss of life, loss of jobs, loss of homes, loss of food- we all lost normalcy. So much is out of our control. I remember thinking LAST March “OK- just a couple of weeks to pause, clean up and move on.” I  was so wrong.... so wrong. But, here we are almost a year later. Together, happy and sad. Grateful and anxious. Here we are balancing a life that is so far from normal. Rising to unreal expectations each day and collapsing into bed with exhaustion. And the kids. Holy Cow- these kids. Their lives have been turned upside down. They’ve become political pawns.Even our youngest ones are expected to be more emotionally mature than most adults. School- a safe haven for most- has become a game of tug-o-war, with children bearing the brunt of endless arguments. Fully remote, 1 day in, 3 days off. As parents it’s a roller coaster that we can wait to get off, escorting our children safely off this ride. Imagine how our children feel.  How can we expect our children to be functioning at a “normal” level when NOTHING is normal. In our home the conversation is cyclical, “We know this is hard. Things will continue to get better, we promise.” We truly believe it, but to a child hearing this everyday where very little changes, it’s hard to understand and then believe. What happens to the already anxious child? They often get lost in their thoughts with no one to pull themout.  Depression, increased anxiety and other mental health issues begin to creep in. Mental Health is deteriorating quickly. This is the truth- this is what is actually happening and what many are choosing not to believe, accept and mitigate. How many American families are equipped, willing and/or able to tackle this very real and growing crisis plaguing our children? How many families feel helpless combating youth mental health issues? My guess is a lot... It’s an absolutely heart wrenching journey and we need safety nets and support systems. How will we support them when the system is so broken? I don't have the answers, but the more people who ask and demand help, the better.  So, as I embark on another day of remote learning we will continue to search for pockets of happiness.  But day will turn into night and without fail, I will be forced to confront the compounding worries of my saddest child. They seem to grow stronger throughout the day until they overflow with silent tears. I will rub her back, wipe her tears from wide open eyes, talk the talk and try my best to believe that things will get better. I will close her door and say a prayer for her, for me, for you and your babies- big and small.  To the teacher in Oakland, mental health is real. Our kids are suffering. Situational, environmental or genetic- these are real issues. Mental health doesn’t know race and economics. Anxiety, depression and other disorders do not choose sufferers based upon the color of their skin- black, brown, white or whether they are from affluent or impoverished families. Many children have pre-pandemic mental health issues, compounded by a year of loss. Others have been triggered by a year of isolation and trauma- some atrocities we can’t even begin to imagine. The bottom line is clear- most of us are trying our best to move through each day. But we need help and support. We need teachers to put their best possible foot forward for this very moment. Most have and we feel it, we appreciate it. What we can do without are condescending and judgmental tweets. We need educators who understand and advocate for the whole wellbeing of our children. xx MLT