![]() It’s business as usual for everyone else. I do not recommend it, but the truth is that the world doesn’t stop for you. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all be courageous enough to wear our emotions on our sleeves, literally? I know firsthand how difficult it is to deal with a loss, show up at work the next day, and attempt to do your job. In some cultures, those grieving a loss wear a simple black wristband as a symbol of mourning - the external manifestation of grief. I certainly would have appreciated a role model that taught me that it’s okay not always to be okay instead of taking on a “Suck it up, Buttercup” attitude. We all do, no matter our position or role. But sometimes, I need a bit of grace and help. My gut reaction to everything comes in two forms: take it as a challenge - “I got this!” - or pretend everything is fine. Understanding how much to share with the entire team can be challenging. My mom is probably looking down and disappointed in me for being honest and transparent about her struggle.īut, after going through some challenging life experiences and what sometimes feels like endless grief, I know better than to pretend everything’s okay all the time.Īs a leader and founder of our company, I don’t like to expose weaknesses. This is likely why my parents hadn’t called to tell me about my mom’s mental health issues. I remember my mom saying she had no reason to be depressed since she had a good life and no overly traumatic situations impacting her well-being. I was taught, in a way, to hide signs of weakness. When I lost my mom in 2019, she wasn’t the mom I once knew. After my dad died, she suffered from Parkinson’s and Lewy Body Dementia for nearly a decade. Out of nowhere, her mental health prevented her from getting out of bed or functioning as a human. I learned that my mom was suffering from depression and anxiety, likely the earliest symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to care for someone so sad. My Dad stood beside her with a hopeless look on his face. But now, here she was, seemingly disheveled and broken. She’d fuss with my makeup before I left the house and comment if she disapproved of my clothes. My mom was a perfectionist regarding some things, especially outward appearance and behavior - particularly regarding me. Her hair was uncombed, and her voice was different. She was standing in front of me in blue sweatpants and a sweatshirt, two articles of clothing I’d never seen her wear in public or the privacy of our home. Upon returning home from college for a semester break, I met a version of my mom I barely recognized or knew. As Mental Health Awareness Month concludes, I’d like to share a few thoughts to help fight stigma, raise awareness, advocate for anyone on our team with mental health conditions, and honor my loved ones.
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