It’s 2:53 am, and I am up and awake. When I took one of my nightly walks to the bathroom, my son approached me as I was walking out and said in a somber tone, mom, we need to talk. When your kid (no matter the age) asks to speak with you, sleepy or not, you listen. Alex reminded me of me when I was younger. I allowed my head to conjure up all types of fear, and I would trash them around and develop them. My mind’s eye would photograph each thought in bright techno-color. If I didn’t talk them through out loud, I would worry to the point of anxiety and depression. Hoping to help my son avoid those lows, I let him talk…All he wanted was for me to listen.
Many of us are not sleeping well during this strange time in our lives. The last time I remember feeling a sense of control outside of my home was in the ’60s and the race riots that were ragging. The news information we received then was not delivered 24/7, and we were dependent on the morning or afternoon paper and the evening news.
Back in the 60s, we didn’t spend much time calling family and friends outside of our area code as long-distance was costly and often used for special occasions, not daily chatter. We didn’t have social media or email, so even a letter or a blog like this would need to be mailed to the person you wanted to share with.
Since my youth, in the 1950s, I have witnessed many changes in life and have experienced stress, anxiety, as well as depression, but I refused to let the situations destroy me. I took the opportunity to create myself, often taking the fork in the road to keep me on a path of growth. However, to maintain my health, I must now find a way not to let the needs of others invade my calm. I must place the oxygen mask over my nose and breath so I can be of assistance when someone calls my name.