A Mental Health Day
When someone says they need a "mental health" day, a lot of times they need a day away from work. Rightfully so! Work can be overwhelming. Sometimes you need a reset. A day to unwind, catch your breath, and reenergize to do your best tomorrow. Those days are amazing and I think everyone deserves a separate batch of PTO for those kinds of days.
However, I don't like the term "mental health" day. I don't like it, because when I took a "mental health" day yesterday, it was because I truly needed it for my sanity.
My anxiety has been higher than normal lately. To be fair, I'm smack in the middle of my busy season at work. Yes, the State Medical Licensing world has a busy season (a fun fact to tell all your cool friends at cocktail parties....you're welcome). It is from about March through July with May and June being the peak. During this time our number of applications double, and doctors are needier than normal. In NC we have so many hospitals that are on academic calendars, their fiscal years start in July so that is when they bring in new hires. New hires need licenses to work in our state. Insanity ensues.
I try to come from a place of understanding when talking to these doctors. I know I am an inpatient person when it comes to something as little as my Ikea order being delivered by the promised delivery date. I imagine that waiting for a piece of paper (a very expensive one) for the opportunity to work and support my family would bring me a LOT of stress. Even though I understand, it doesn't make these days easy for me. I get yelled at, I get talked down to, and I get tattled on to my boss because a doctor has called me 7 times (and never left me a voicemail to call them back). It's rough. Its draining. I remind myself I did this last year while pregnant, I can do it again this year - AND I can have wine this time around.
But then I come home. I come home to a baby I adore and love more than anything in the world. I come home to a baby who is learning how to communicate frustration by yelling instead of crying. Again, I try my best to be understanding. She doesn't know HOW to say what she wants. She knows she wants to move but can't quite master how to crawl yet. Kid has spunk and spirit and I love her for it. But it, too, is draining to be yelled at as soon as you walk in the door (whether she means to "yell at" me or not).
My house is pretty much never clean anymore. This may be petty to some people- but I work best when my space is clean. If I am in a messy room, my motivation is lower, and all I can think about is the mess. I truly can't relax. It's something I'm working on, but slowly.
Then, of course, this season of marriage is tough. Don't get me wrong I still think I snagged myself the best husband a girl can get- but it doesn't come without work. He's also working full time, he has class and research to do, he also has a baby yelling at him every day, and he has a wife that is so anxious she don't seem to filter anything that comes out of her mouth. We could use an all-expense paid trip to anywhere tropical and all-inclusive at this point. We could use a reminder of how much fun we can have together.
Anyway, I veered off course here. So, all of this information has given you my back story of my anxiety. This past Tuesday as work came to an end, I sat there and thought, "I don't even want to go home." It wasn't a thought of abandoning my family or anything like that. It was just this feeling of dread. Like I was going to be asked to give something of myself to two more people (and the needy cat), and I just didn't have it in me anymore. I dreamed of checking into a hotel room for a night. Laying in bed, having room service, watching whatever trash tv I wanted, and have someone pick up the towels for me after I left. Obviously I did the responsible thing and went home to my husband and daughter, but there were some tears on my drive home.
So this is why I hate the term mental health day. I desperately needed Wednesday off work. I needed a day for self-care. I needed to go to Michael's without a baby on my hip. I needed to bake my peanut butter blondies without my husband looking over my shoulder asking me about every step in the recipe (he's very curious....that's why his friends call him Whiskers). I needed to watch Parks and Rec and laugh at ridiculous Andy and my feminist hero Leslie. I truly NEEDED that day.
So, maybe this is a PSA, but the next time someone you know with mental health disorders says they are taking a mental health day- don't tell them the weather is beautiful and to enjoy the day. Ask them if they are okay. Ask them if they need anything. Ask them if they want to talk. Chances are, if they are self aware enough to take the day- that's all they need; but your concern, friendship, and understanding that this isn't a day playing hooky will mean the world to them.
Not that there is anything wrong with playing hooky now and then....sometimes the beach just calls your name!
However, I don't like the term "mental health" day. I don't like it, because when I took a "mental health" day yesterday, it was because I truly needed it for my sanity.
My anxiety has been higher than normal lately. To be fair, I'm smack in the middle of my busy season at work. Yes, the State Medical Licensing world has a busy season (a fun fact to tell all your cool friends at cocktail parties....you're welcome). It is from about March through July with May and June being the peak. During this time our number of applications double, and doctors are needier than normal. In NC we have so many hospitals that are on academic calendars, their fiscal years start in July so that is when they bring in new hires. New hires need licenses to work in our state. Insanity ensues.
I try to come from a place of understanding when talking to these doctors. I know I am an inpatient person when it comes to something as little as my Ikea order being delivered by the promised delivery date. I imagine that waiting for a piece of paper (a very expensive one) for the opportunity to work and support my family would bring me a LOT of stress. Even though I understand, it doesn't make these days easy for me. I get yelled at, I get talked down to, and I get tattled on to my boss because a doctor has called me 7 times (and never left me a voicemail to call them back). It's rough. Its draining. I remind myself I did this last year while pregnant, I can do it again this year - AND I can have wine this time around.
But then I come home. I come home to a baby I adore and love more than anything in the world. I come home to a baby who is learning how to communicate frustration by yelling instead of crying. Again, I try my best to be understanding. She doesn't know HOW to say what she wants. She knows she wants to move but can't quite master how to crawl yet. Kid has spunk and spirit and I love her for it. But it, too, is draining to be yelled at as soon as you walk in the door (whether she means to "yell at" me or not).
My house is pretty much never clean anymore. This may be petty to some people- but I work best when my space is clean. If I am in a messy room, my motivation is lower, and all I can think about is the mess. I truly can't relax. It's something I'm working on, but slowly.
Then, of course, this season of marriage is tough. Don't get me wrong I still think I snagged myself the best husband a girl can get- but it doesn't come without work. He's also working full time, he has class and research to do, he also has a baby yelling at him every day, and he has a wife that is so anxious she don't seem to filter anything that comes out of her mouth. We could use an all-expense paid trip to anywhere tropical and all-inclusive at this point. We could use a reminder of how much fun we can have together.
Anyway, I veered off course here. So, all of this information has given you my back story of my anxiety. This past Tuesday as work came to an end, I sat there and thought, "I don't even want to go home." It wasn't a thought of abandoning my family or anything like that. It was just this feeling of dread. Like I was going to be asked to give something of myself to two more people (and the needy cat), and I just didn't have it in me anymore. I dreamed of checking into a hotel room for a night. Laying in bed, having room service, watching whatever trash tv I wanted, and have someone pick up the towels for me after I left. Obviously I did the responsible thing and went home to my husband and daughter, but there were some tears on my drive home.
So this is why I hate the term mental health day. I desperately needed Wednesday off work. I needed a day for self-care. I needed to go to Michael's without a baby on my hip. I needed to bake my peanut butter blondies without my husband looking over my shoulder asking me about every step in the recipe (he's very curious....that's why his friends call him Whiskers). I needed to watch Parks and Rec and laugh at ridiculous Andy and my feminist hero Leslie. I truly NEEDED that day.
So, maybe this is a PSA, but the next time someone you know with mental health disorders says they are taking a mental health day- don't tell them the weather is beautiful and to enjoy the day. Ask them if they are okay. Ask them if they need anything. Ask them if they want to talk. Chances are, if they are self aware enough to take the day- that's all they need; but your concern, friendship, and understanding that this isn't a day playing hooky will mean the world to them.
Not that there is anything wrong with playing hooky now and then....sometimes the beach just calls your name!
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