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[et_pb_column type=”4_4″][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text”]It was 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday night when my younger sister called me and told that was my father was in the hospital and he was unresponsive. She told me to get home right away. I live in Georgia and my dad was in California. I immediately scrambled to catch the next flight out, it didn’t leave until 5:30 a.m.
I went straight to the UCLA Medical Center from the airport. Seeing my father connected to several machines, his eye half mass, his body still warm, his chest slowly rising and falling from the artificial breaths he was being forced to take. I could not process what was happening.
A week prior, he called me to chat. He sounded distressed. I sensed something only a child could pick up on. My dad was a contractor and part of a union. Often times consistent work was hard to come by and there were always issues with the union. I offered words of encouragement to him. Our conversation some how shifted to end of life care. I asked him what he wanted me to do if he ever became incapacitated. He said, “I do not want to be a burden on anyone, take me to a home”. I want you to take care of everything.” We ended this conversation like every other one, Daddy loves you, he said. Moments after, he sent me a text, “Thank you, I am one of the luckiest fathers on planet Earth to have a daughter that understands and will listen to a father expressing thank you very much.”
That would be the last time we would speak.
Time To Say Goodbye
November 3, 2017, I sat by his hospital bedside for an entire day, urging him to wake up, squeeze my hand, something. Nothing happened. The neurologist informed us he had suffered a severe stroke, they showed me on his MRI, that blood pooled into a region of his brain that had essentially “turned out the lights”. I would later learn after checking his phones’ search history and hearing his voice search “How Do You Know If You Are Having A Stroke”, that he knew what was happening. He collapsed, hitting his head on the frame of his bed and would not be discovered for another eight hours. As the next of kin, I had to make the most difficult decision of a lifetime. The hospital staff quickly unplugged him and we all said our goodbyes. I knew exactly what to do, because he told me what he wanted less than a week before. I would spend my birthday writing his obituary and planning a funeral.
I Was Close to Giving Up
Life became a meaningless task after he was gone. Each day I struggled to accomplish anything other than the necessary basics. I walked by workbench, looked at the piles of scrap wood, the unfinished projects, the unboxed power tools. I did not want to build a single thing. I didn’t care about wood, this blog, or fulfilling my purpose. I knew I was created to build, but not now and maybe not ever again. My mental health was deteriorating, anxiety became a mainstay. Were these the stages of grief? How do you process grief? Does it get better? Why did this happen? How will I ever be okay again?
Gut Punched Twice
On Christmas Eve my mother and step-father called me from California. My step-dad had fallen beside his bed and could not get up, he was in his eighties. They were at the hospital treating him for pneumonia and other ailments. When an elderly person falls and cannot pull themselves up, they tire and subsequently lay on their backs. Apparently, being in this position for a number of hours, combined with the cooler air that flows close to the floor can cause pneumonia. The good news is that the doctor would keep him for a few days and send him home. Before he could make it home, he would need to be resuscitated three times. The last time was unsuccessful. By January he was gone.
Stress Nearly Killed Me
The irony of the situation was too much to process. My father and my step-father both loved me immensely. They were both from Mississippi, born on the 24th of July (years a part), both found laying on the floor beside their beds. Within two months I had lost both of my dads. By the end of January, my vision in one eye became blurry, the right side of my body became weak. I underwent several MRI’s, a lumbar puncture, and a barrage of other tests. They found lesions on my brain and optic neuritis. A healthy woman diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I hit rock bottom. I needed help.
The Mental Health Stigma
Therapy is for crazy people, people with issues, for the weak, it costs too much, what can a stranger tell me about my life, I am not putting my business out there. I could go on about the excuses we make as to why professional help isn’t sought if we need it. I am not weak, I am not broken, but I am deep in grief and it was causing a great deal of anxiety. Speaking to someone openly about it, that wasn’t biased helped me a great deal. I began to learn tools for coping with anxiety and reinforce the positive mindset I had before my life took a different turn. Believe it or not deep breathing relieves a lot stress. It almost sounds too silly and simple to actually work. And here is how to do it…Take a deep breath in through your nose, blow out through your mouth as if you were blowing out your birthday candles, repeat this at least five times. Feels good, right?
There are many different forms of help you can get and no one has to know, although it shouldn’t be seen as a negative thing. If anything it will make you stronger not weaker. I still have days like today, when I relive what happened, when I had to hug them both for the last time, when I had to watch them lowered into the ground, but I am doing better and the best part of it all, is I don’t have MS. Call it a miracle. After receiving a second opinion, speaking with a therapist, and relying on my family for support, they couldn’t find the lesions anymore and my vision was restored 100%. So you see stress can not only take an emotional toll on you, it can also manifest itself physically.
Nothing Can Stop Me I’m All The Way Up
I am happy to be back in my shop. It was a long road for me. Like I said before, I was born to build and that is what I am doing. I am still on a mission to pursue my passion, encourage you to pursue yours, and share easy DIY builds that anyone can do. Please come back for more inspiration, the mental type and the maker type. Leave me a comment with an inspirational quote or advice that you would like to share with me and others about coping with grief.
Types of Mental Health Practitioners:
Psychologists: Medical doctors that specialize in behavioral health and can prescribe medication related to a specific issue.
Psychiatrists: Providers that have earned a Ph.D. or Psy.D.and focus on psychotherapy. They typically have thousands of hours of clinical and/or research experience before treating patients.
Licensed Social Workers: A Masters Degree is required, usually in social work. These providers also have thousands of hours of clinical experience under their belts.
How to cope with anxiety at home
Prayer
Deep Breathing
Yoga
Meditation
Online resources for coping with anxiety:
American Psychological Association (http://www.apa.org/topics/index.aspx)
psychologytools.com (Self-help worksheets)
http://www.therapyforblackgirls.com
Be Great! Live Passionately!
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