People often ask me for advice.  They always have. I don’t know why exactly, except I’d like to think that I’m a good listener.  The great irony of course is that it takes a lot – a lot, a lot – for me to ask anyone else for advice, and advice that is unsolicited lands squarely in my top three pet peeves of all time.  I actually like giving advice though (when it’s asked for) because I like helping people.  It’s something I do a lot due to my blog… obviously not as a professional, but as an unschooler of four kids, and as a parent of nearly 21 years.  I’m not any kind of expert though, nor do I claim to be.  On more than one occasion, I’ve had to tell someone who emailed with an extreme concern (for example, their teenage child was being physically violent) that I didn’t know how to help them.  And that, honestly, it would be inappropriate and irresponsible for me to try.

Sometimes you just need a professional.

As a yoga teacher, I’m always happy to answer long distance questions about my favorite mats, which DVD series I’d avoid , or which stretches are good if you wake up feeling stiff. But if I cannot actually see you, teaching from afar is not comfortable for me.  It’s way too easy to do things incorrectly, and/or to push yourself to0 far and cause or exacerbate an injury.  Instead, I’ll always recommend seeing a professional in person, even just once, to help avoid bad habits and poor form.

I very rarely take my kids to the doctor.  Most things that people go to the doctor for – rashes, sore throats, flus, colds, fevers, stomach viruses, minor injuries – can be safely and effectively handled at home.  Plus, by keeping them home, I’m not out there spreading all those germy germs to the entire Phoenix valley.  But when one of my boys landed wrong playing basketball, and his ankle swelled to the size of, well, a basketball, we took him in for an x-ray.  (Lo and behold, a broken bone in his foot). And when that same boy had an array of weird and concerning symptoms that culminated with a symptom on the “never-to-be-ignored” list, we went straight to the ER.  Broken bones, cuts requiring stitches, serious injury, illnesses that are getting worse instead of better:  I don’t ask Facebook, I don’t fiddle around with essential oils.  I GO TO A PROFESSIONAL.

I wouldn’t have wanted anyone other than a professional to do my shoulder surgeries or remove my gall bladder, and that goes doubly for placing my kidney stent.

I don’t know how to fix my car.

Or fix my toilet.

I would most certainly struggle with doing my own taxes (being married to someone who works in finance is a big boon in this area.)

If I wanted an addition put onto my house, an addition that wasn’t at great risk of the walls caving in, I’d call someone who actually knew how to do that.

Sometimes you just need a professional.

Mental health should be no exception.

It’s alarming to me how many people either 1) completely ignore their own declining mental health (been there, done that), 2) think that they can fix it just by “thinking positively” or getting more exercise or spending more time in the sun (been there, done that, too) or 3) Seek counsel from people who aren’t actually trained or qualified to give such advice.  I recently saw a post on a natural health Facebook group that I belong to that rang some serious alarm bells for me.  The poster was asking what natural remedy they could use for alcoholism and EXTREME mental lows (emphasis is theirs).

Can I just say, as a general, blanket statement:  If you’re feeling extreme mental lows, seek professional help.

If you’re feeling extreme mental lows that are making you think you’re in imminent danger of harming yourself, go to the emergency room.

If you’re feeling extreme mental lows that are interfering with your life, go to a mental health professional.

A mental health professional, it needs to be said, is someone who has gone through years of schooling, rigorous training, and a rather long and arduous licensure process.  It is not someone who is just really good at listening.  It is not someone who attended an 8-week life-coach certification course.  It is not someone who paid $97 for an essential oil starter kit.  I’m sorry, but it’s not.

Just like the broken foot and the broken toilet and the yet-be-done taxes: if you want to get actual help, you need to go to the appropriate person.

And I get it.   OH MY WORD do I get it.  It’s hard.  It’s hard and it’s scary and no matter what anyone tells you, there is still very much a stigma about seeking mental health treatment.

Go anyway.

You don’t have to wait until it’s extreme, either!  In fact, as someone who waited until it was quite extreme, I’d very much advise not to wait until it’s reached that point.  I think that anyone could benefit from at least a little bit of therapy, in much the same way anyone could benefit from twice a year dental cleanings.  I didn’t used to think so, either.  In the interest of full disclosure, up until 18 months ago, I used to be rather anti-therapy. But because (take your pick:) people change, people grow, life happens, I value myself more than I used to…. I’m now perhaps the biggest pro-therapy champion you’ll ever meet.  I have SEEN the darkness of unchecked mental illness ….. and I so much prefer the light.

Therapy and medication quite literally helped save my life.  The hard work was mine (and make no mistake, it has been really freaking hard work), but I could not have done it without the professionals.  I wouldn’t have known how to do it were it not for the professionals.  I AM HERE – not here on my blog, but HERE, on the earth – largely because of that professional help.  I’m glad that I’m here.

Sometimes I think about it; about would have/could have happened had I not sought help when I did.  It’s not a particularly cheery thing to think about, and I know it’s not productive to dwell in the what-ifs.  But every now and then, it’s there, in the corners of my mind.

And it reminds me…

Reminds me of where I was, reminds me of how far I’ve come, reminds me of where I am now.

I’m likely going to be ending therapy soon.  Not because it didn’t work, but because it did.  Words can’t quantify how much I’ve learned from my therapist.  I’ll continue to see my pdoc for check-ins and med refills, and if I ever felt like I needed it, I wouldn’t hesitate to pick up the phone and schedule another therapy appointment either.  (Except, I’d probably hesitate just because I so dread making phone calls.  Tony, if you’re reading this, maybe we should work on my phone phobia next.)

But I would call, and I would get more help, because it’s important.  It is so, so very important.

I figure my life is – at a very bare minimum – at least as important as a broken toilet.