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Everyone needs a posse of parent warriors

Somehow, you can never escape the influence of your mother.  Yet, sometimes you don’t see it for a long while, especially if it shows up in a different context.  Often, in fact, both the influencing and not-seeing can be a very good thing.

My mother believed in the solace and wisdom of other women, especially other mothers.  She grew up in a generation where woman shared secrets-that-weren’t-secrets only with each other, like whether you colored or permed your hair.  Women always went to the ladies room in twos or more in public places and spoke in low voices about “women’s problems.”  She had a group of women friends, kind of a posse, who knew each other for a long time.  Among this group, if there were child-rearing, marital, drinking, health or other issues, those too were shared and kept quiet about.  Besides this group, her sisters were her most precious resource, keeping family connections and, sometimes family secrets, intact.

Although I thought it was silly and even wrong, this secret keeping cast its shadow for a long while.  I was uncomfortable talking about things that were personal, claiming that respect for privacy was the only thing that motivated me.  Once, I came down to breakfast in my college dorm, to find two friends arguing hotly about the merits of Clairol versus L’Oreal hair color.  I put down my food and was quiet for a while, not joining in, not knowing why.

But I believed in the importance of a posse, a group that you could trust and seek out for their knowledge and comfort.  I believed in the value of other mothers.

Then my older son got sick.  He was only in first grade when we emotionally fell off a cliff.  He went from being an anxious child to one who was hurting himself in a few short months.  There was no mistaking that we were the family dealing with significant mental health issues.  Some of my friends drifted away, others stayed but were bewildered.  Still others offered help, advice, a listening ear and most of all the knowledge that whatever I shared, our privacy would be respected.  I found I needed that, because it gave me some space to try and understand how my life was changing and search for a new equilibrium.  It wasn’t secret keeping exactly, but my close friends closed ranks and I felt a little safer, more protected.

I needed that feeling of safety, trust and comfort the first couple of years of my son’s illness.  Like many parents whose children have mental health issues, my life often felt like it was in freefall.  If we planned an outing, it was tentative, making sure my son was okay minutes before we left, so that he could manage without being overwhelmed.  If not, we changed our plans. Heck, if I planned a meal, I never quite knew if we could make it through the entire thing or if there would be a meltdown.  Uncertainty became my daily companion.  Sometimes there were good stretches but there were lots of time when the school would call, his meds would suddenly stop working or he’d develop new fears, obsessions or even frightening behaviors.  I alternated between changing my battle plan to throwing my hands up in surrender.  There were few spaces where I felt like someone had my back.

Then one day came when I started talking about my son’s struggles as well as my own experiences complete with triumphs and disasters.  First I talked at a support group I attended and later in a support group I ran.  Other parents commiserated, cheered me on and never judged.  We would often continue our conversations in the parking lot, treasuring the sharing.  One mom, Theresa, had a son with a mood disorder, who was also using substances.  He was unpredictable and sometimes stole cash from her wallet.  She’d been widowed a few years before, about the same time her son began showing symptoms of bipolar disorder.  Her family thought she’d indulged him too much after losing his dad and that she should have thrown off her own grief earlier.  Theresa would come into the group and pour out her heart and her shoulders would relax, her face would open up and she’d feel the power of the posse. Dave, whose son had ADHD and was going through a difficult divorce, would come week after week, not saying much, but listening hard, nodding often and brought little bakery gifts.  It was his posse, too.

Motivational speaker Jim Rohn says, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”  Sometimes that’s family, but often it’s your group of friends. Your posse can have a big influence on how you feel, what you think and even what steps you take.  The people in it can support you and believe in you, but they can also shake their heads at you and nudge you in a different direction.  It’s not a rubber stamp, letting you off the hook.

Today my posse is filled with parent warriors.  They are advocates and influencers, passionate and strong.  They give me support, challenge me and believe that we can make a difference in children’s mental health for our families and lots of others.  I believe in them, too, and am sure they are right.

My son is an adult now, still dealing (mostly successfully) with his mental health symptoms and he’s doing okay.  But that wouldn’t be true without years of advocacy on my part and the part of others.  I wouldn’t have been able to push, to share my stories publicly and keep going without my posse of parent warriors.  Nobody does this alone.  My mom was right about that.

Why hope will never be silent

Harvey Milk once said “Hope will never be silent.” That quote has been an essential quote for me since the ninth grade.   As long as we keep hope in our hearts, we can never be silenced, and we can prevail.

This quote means so much due to the relevance to what I want to accomplish in my life and my future career path. This quote is also relevant to the world we live in today, and to all of the people advocating for the rights they deserve. Hope plays a huge part in our society, and we can’t just give up on the concept. If we all simply gave up hope, what would we have left? We would have total destruction, and tears in the eyes of the ones we love the most. We’d have a complete lack of progress, and more pain than we could ever begin to handle.

When I think of the word “hope” and all of the people I know who embody it, I also think of the word “fighter.” Fighters not only have hope in their heart, but they advocate for the causes they truly believe in, and fight against the things that take away from their cause. I like to hold the belief that I am a fighter. I’ve been through my fair share of tough times and challenges in my life, but in total honesty, I simply want to use my lived experience to help those who are going through similar struggles in their lives. No one should have to fight these demons alone, and that is why I want to be involved in the mental health field,

Trying to stay positive is a hard thing to do, but I really try to do just that. Even if at times staying positive seems impossible, it is vital because all negativity does is drag us down. For me, my friends play a huge part in my positivity. Almost all of my friends have been diagnosed with a mental health “disorder.” I put quotes around disorder because although these are not “normal” for a brain, they still play a part in who we are, even though that’s not all there is to it. The people who have taught me the most about hope are the ones who have these disorders. They’ve taught me about resilience.

I know in my heart that I am the fighter I am because of the friends I have gotten the pleasure of knowing. I not only fight for myself, but I fight for all of the people I love who have taught me that everyone has something to say. Sometimes they simply need help to say it. Giving everyone the chance to speak up on issues they believe in is important. Listen to the hopes and dreams of others, because hope is vital to societal growth.

No matter how grim a situation may seem, you can find hope not only within yourself, but in others as well. No one is incapable of having hope in their soul. Sometimes they just need a helping hand to guide them. So, in honor of Harvey Milk, remember “Hope will never be silent” and we as a human race can never be silenced.

Rachel LaBrie is our guest blogger. Rachel dreams of being a young adult fiction writer. She currently has 6 animals who she truly adores.