My Five Steps For Sadness

I’m really good at being sad. You might be thinking “weird flex, but okay” and you’d be right. Who is proud of the way they handle depression? This girl, that’s who. I’m really good at collapsing into sadness and letting it take over for a little bit, because I know how to get through it and get past it. I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety since I was a teenager, although it wasn’t until college that I allowed myself to formally admit it and get some help. My preferred method of dealing with it in high school was to be really mean to my family, especially my sister, and make stupid choices. Over the years things have gotten easier and, thanks to an amazing therapist, I know that when things get hard and sad I can make it through to the other side. Sometimes that means going back on medication, sometimes it means going back into her office for a little refresher, and sometimes it means leaning a little harder on my friends and family.

I am a person who has big emotions and feels things deeply and swallowing the pain, pushing it down and ignoring it won’t work for me. I need to lean into it and let it take over for a little while. I need to let my self cry and cry, and then cry a little bit more. I need to turn my bed into my little safety zone and eat three meals a day under the covers while I have The Office on endless repeat in the background. I need to send my son to school and then go back to bed, give him way more screen time than I’m comfortable with, and not stress if he eats Oreos for dinner. Because I know that if I allow myself to be sad for a little while I will make it through to the other side much more easily than if I try to ignore it or fight it.

My grandmother died this afternoon. It wasn’t unexpected but that doesn’t make it any easier. She was a strong, smart, wonderful woman who passed away in her home with her children gathered around her, singing her peacefully away. I’m not ready to talk about her right now, that’s not why I’m writing this. I am here in my house, my toddler asleep across the hall and my husband on a business trip in Miami. I know that the sadness is coming and I’m prepared for it. Leaning into it means I can get ahead of it so I don’t get swallowed whole. I’ve been swallowed by it before, and I can’t function in my life right now if I let that happen. So I’m preparing for it. Giving myself permission to grieve and wallow takes away some of the guilt of being down and makes my time hiding in my bed more effective. So here are my tips for being sad and hopefully making it through to the other side. (And if you can’t make it through, call your doctor/therapist/counselor and ask for help. Clean sheets and trashy movies only have so much power. Sometimes you need professional help and that’s okay too.)

My five steps for sadness

Step 1: Clean your house. Things are about to get dark and once it does cleaning will feel like the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Before you descend into the darkness do the dishes, sweep the floor, move the laundry along. It might not seem like it now, but when you finally emerge from your bedroom a clean kitchen can be life changing.

Step 2: Put clean sheets on your bed, make it neatly with your favorite comforter, and arrange your squishiest pillow just how you like it. Your bed is now your home, and all meals will be consumed in it. If you don’t already have one, put a small trash can next to your bed so those snotty tissues don’t pile up on your nightstand.

Step 3: If you don’t already have one in there, move a tv to your bedroom. This is a crucial step. You’re going to do some pretty heavy duty trashy tv watching but streaming Netflix on your tablet only works until you forget to plug it in and the battery dies, leaving you laying there alone in silence. Silence is not your friend. TVs don’t have batteries and won’t leave you alone in the silence.

Step 4: Reach out to your village. Let your husband/wife/bfff/parents/siblings/village know you’re struggling and might need some help. Ask someone to help with childcare or pick milk up from the store. There’s no shame in letting people know you’re feeling vulnerable and sad and can’t do it all right now. This is why we have a village. And if you don’t want help or company, let them know that too. If you’re about to enter radio silence tell them first. If you’re going to stop answering texts/calls make a PSA so no one comes over to make sure you’re still alive and intrudes on all your much needed solitude.

Step 5: Wallow.

I just finished step 3 and I guess this post is step 4. I’m writing from the comfort of my freshly made bed, with the tv on in the background, listening to the Kangaroos lullabies blasting from across the hall. I have dinner sitting on the pillow next to me (cheesy quinoa and fruit salad, if you’re curious) and am about to let the sadness come. I can feel it there, sitting heavy at the base of my throat. I think it’s easier to get through if I can control it like this. My way isn’t for everyone, but it works for me and that’s what matters.