I married and had children young. By today’s standards, extremely young. I was neither an unwed nor teen mother, but only barely. But this isn’t about that story, it’s about the now.

Since I married and had kids so young, I think I kind of skipped over my “matron” stage. I was the eldest of several kids, so I was obligated to be a “mature” example and help care for them. While learning to be mature. It was confusing. I don’t resent nor regret a minute of it, but it did cause me to marry young. I won’t go into all the circumstances that caused me to be pregnant just before I turned twenty, but it wasn’t youthful carelessness. I also narrowly escaped the “teen mom” stigma, even if it was only by a short time. Throughout my teen years and early 20s, I was living a much more mature life than I was physically or emotionally prepared for. I was a motherly maiden. I was wiping chins and bums while hoping somebody was staring at my bum. If you’ll allow me a moment of vanity, it was a stare-worthy bum. Just sayin.

At the tender age of 40, I had already kissed my children goodbye. 7 years later, I’m still dreading becoming a granny. The Spinny Kids both say they don’t want children. I’m ok with that, if it’s what they want. If I was half as educated at 19 as I thought I was, the Spinny Kids wouldn’t exist, either. But that’s not what I’m getting at today either.

While the Spinny Kids were still “growing up”, I was still young. Attractive, even, if the attentions I received from strangers is an indication. I’m not bragging. I really dont’ care either way. Mr. Spinny somehow still finds me attractive, and for now, that’s enough for me.

I don’t feel my age, though. Time and genetics haven’t been kind to me physically, under my skin. I have pains and creaks and groans and snapping noises, and gravity provides me with a daily battle that I don’t enjoy at all. Emotionally, I feel even older. I’ve already seen the Spinny Kids and all their friends grow up. I’ve seen two new generations come into existence, before some of my high school friends have even “settled down”. I’ve seen loves and passions come and go, technologies change several times over, wars come and go and come again, countries rise and fall, and a larger number of friends pass on than I ever dreamed I would have friends.

Somehow, I’ve gone from Clotho – spinning the thread – to Atropos – cutting threads and saying goodbye to friends and family much younger than I. From Vailisa the Beautiful to Baba Yaga. And I’m ok with that, I think. I think Baba got a bad rap. Of all the Baba Yaga stories I’ve heard, the only ones to give her a come-uppance were some amazing young ladies who passed some pretty fantastic tests. I don’t think old Baba had that big of an issue being put in her place by a young woman who was clearly strong and wise. If anything, it gave her the hope to continue on and weed out the simple-minded weaklings.

I’m sure there are those who get to be old by fluke, but those who get old and wise and vain have probably earned it, and are around to take the young’uns down a couple pegs so they can be old and scary and loud, too.

At this point, I’ve actually forgotten where I was going with any of this, aside from that I’m OK with getting old. I’ve earned my grey hairs and wrinkles, and I’ll happily take my hits from young women who are smarter and stronger than I am, because it means that at least some women are getting stronger and smarter.

Whether you are a child with children of your own, old and have outlived your children, just barely manage to take care of that cactus on the window sill, desperately want children you cannot have, or have the good sense to admit that you should not be a mother for whatever your reasons are, happy Mothers day to all the humans out there who have nurtured the world in any way.

Keep setting the bar higher for the next generations!

I spent the weekend surrounded by amazing artists and wonderful old and new friends. Sales were good, but the energy of the group was… I don’t even know an English word that can express it! Of course such an overdose of people and energy left me with a giant social hangover all day yesterday, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I feel so reinspired and refreshed and renewed, and all the other “re” words! Of course that’s rather fitting because the theme of the whole retreat was “renewal”.

As soon as my day job is done for today, I’ll be getting my Etsy shop out of vacation mode, and will hopefully get some updates here happening over the next couple of days to tell you all about my fantastic 5 day weekend!

A year ago I went from hating life to honestly wanting to end it. My life isn’t (and wasn’t) bad. Sure, there’s plenty of room for improvement, but I have enough to eat, clean water, a safe home, and gentle and loving family and friends. For many people, that’s a hopeless daydream.

But it wasn’t enough to make me feel OK.

Somewhere along the line, I “lost a few cards from my deck”. I felt tired and bored all the time. I felt sadness and fear for no apparent reason. I stopped taking my thyroid meds. That exacerbated things. Over the course of a few years, the boredom and fear and sadness went from annoying to crushing. Then it because a self-feeding monster and in a few short months it snowballed.

The bigger problem? I kept silent and put on an act of confidence and contentedness that should have won multiple awards. Why? I didn’t want to bother anybody. I was tired of being told to “cheer up” and “lighten up” and all those other phrases that end with “up” and are totally unhelpful to somebody who can’t remember which way is “up”. I felt like nobody “got it”. Seriously, did people really think I was so stupid that the thought of “cheering up” hadn’t occurred to me? “Oh, cheer up and get over it? Thank you, you just saved me, because I’d have never thought of that by myself! “Worse yet, I had gotten to the point that I really didn’t care. It was hopeless wishing I could feel better, so I did what everybody seems to tell depressed people – I put on my big girl panties and got on with life.

When I got to the point where I felt like life was a nightmare full of invisible monsters, I developed a plan. I don’t recall consciously thinking about it, but suddenly I had a fully thought-out foolproof plan to end my pain in a way that wouldn’t hurt for long or leave a mess for anybody who would have to clean it up. I still didn’t tell anybody. And I’ll let you in on a secret. You know those posters and ads and all kind of other lessons that tell you the signs that somebody who is planning suicide? Seriously suicidal people know those signs too. And we do everything we can to not give signs. It would have looked awfully suspicious if I started liquidating my fibre stash, wouldn’t it?

Anyway, on a very warm day last May, I calmly left the building where I work. Mr Spinny was waiting to give me a lift home. I got into the car and told him I needed to see a Doctor. I had him drive to the hospital, where I approached the triage desk, told the kind person that I was afraid I was going to hurt myself, and broke into tears. They asked me if I had a plan. I told them what it was. They found a quiet room for me to sit in where they could watch me (they didn’t say so, but it was pretty obvious). Pretty much all I remember for the next several days is alternating between tears and anxiety attacks. The ER psychiatrist felt that my self-admission was a good indication that I wasn’t an immediate danger to myself, so Mr Spinny got to take me home. I was prescribed strong antidepressants and thyroid medication.

After a lot of work, I have come a very very long way. I still feel like I somehow betrayed myself. How did it get so bad? When was the point of no return? How did I manage to rationalise my way out of the guilt of hurting my family so badly? How dare I blind-side the man who stands beside me through everything with such a terrible thing?

I have been fortunate enough that my antidepressant worked without needing to experiment with several types. They had (and still have) some unpleasant side effects from time to time, but I am alive. I feel joy again. I still feel anger and sadness, but they go away when I’m done feeling them. I melt when I see puppy lips and cat’s toes. I hear people when they speak to me. I feel love.

Please, if you feel like you might hurt yourself, seek professional help. They are equipped to assist you. Family and friends can give you love and support, but unless they’re trained, they can’t fix what’s broken. It can feel like there’s another mind in your head making the decisions. You can’t let it take the wheel.
On the other side of the coin, if you fear that somebody is headed down a path they won’t come back from, say something! Telling them to cheer up won’t fix it, especially if they don’t seem to have a “good” reason to feel bad. Depression and anxiety do not revolve around a single mishap or loss or event. Spend some time. Listen to them. Ask them if they’re thinking of hurting themselves. Encourage them to see a doctor. If somebody had mentioned a counsellor to me, I’d have brushed it off, because a counsellor can’t make the bad go away, and in that frame of mind, everything seems unfixable. Share your concerns with other people who also care. Knowing how much other people care is motivating. Trust me, I know.