CONNECT: FEELING GOOD? (Spring 2022)

YOGA IS A PRAYER BY KELLYN MCGEE

It’s okay to not be okay. That’s the mantra I’ve heard– and repeated to myself – innumerable times during the past two years. It’s okay to not be okay.

In the summer of 2020, I began acknowledging to myself the “not okay” and knew I needed an objective person to talk to and provide tools for clarity. I called an organization I belong to that offers free counseling sessions to members. Referrals in hand, I called to make appointments. Some never called me back, some called weeks later. A few more times I called the organization’s helpline, received new referrals, then… nothing. I know that I wasn’t alone in my not-okayness and I know that therapists are people, too, and that they were also experiencing the same pandemic I was. And they also had lots of people wanting appointments, not just me. In the midst of my trying, though, I felt that attempting to get help – and not succeeding – was increasing my stress. Here I was, doing the “right” thing and my pleas were not being heard.

Finally, in January 2021, I was able to schedule an appointment with a therapist. I was feeling better than “okay” by then but wanted to have someone on standby. She even said she didn’t think it sounded like I needed someone at the time. By the fall, still feeling good, I decided I wanted to get in front of any possible mental downturns. Although I liked the therapist I’d found in January, I didn’t feel a connection, so I tried again with new referrals. I found a new person but after a couple of sessions, I decided I needed another one. I had (not so) perfect timing, because I made that decision right before my father went into the hospital for emergency surgery. My search was put on hold.

Back at it this spring, I decided to go another route and try my company’s Employee Assistance Plan. Around the time my frustration with not finding one was peaking (“not taking new clients” is mostly what I heard), we started receiving the articles for this issue. I had an epiphany when I read Andrea Robinson’s “By His Grace.” I began searching Psychology Today for therapists (not just the list from my insurance company) and I decided that my mental health was more important than whether my insurance would cover the costs of service. I expanded my search. I then made an appointment for an initial consultation. I’m feeling better about the search this time because, even if this one therapist doesn’t work, I have released my limits on finding the one who will.

I’ve felt like I’m running on about “80”… out of 350! But I know that’s because it’s been a difficult year – work, death, illnesses, aging parents, aging me, the see-saw of this pandemic, disappointments, the news. Ashley Judd, the actor, said about her mother, singer Naomi Judd (who died by suicide recently): “I knew she was fragile.” I believe we all are. Even those, maybe especially those, who try so hard to be – or appear - perfect and strong and fearless and without failings. (I think we all have fit that description in some way.) A friend and I were discussing the “stuff” that came from our childhoods and how our parents had childhood stuff of their own. “Woe to children of humans,” I said. That’s what we all are: children of humans. Fragile children of fragile humans. That means we have to deal with stuff, even stuff we thought we packed in a box in the back of a closet long ago. Then, to add to our fragility, while we’re trying to ducttape the box of stuff supposedly packed away, brand new stuff pops up.

Yet, even when I’m “not okay,” I remain hopeful. Even when it wavers, I still have faith. I believe that greater can and is coming and that where I am, where we are, when the response is “I’m just okay,” isn’t where we have to remain. There are friends, family, and therapists willing to listen and help. There are bodies of water to float in and songs to fill our souls. There’s popcorn to eat while spending Sunday afternoon binging tv and parks to go to for long walks. And, of course, there’s always yoga – either to get the body moving or to give it rest.

Even when I feel stuck and immovable, I know that I’m standing in mud, not cement. And with no mud, there is no lotus. And that’s more than okay.