Enough

As Hillary and I walked out of church this morning, I stopped to talk with a teary-eyed friend. After exchanging hugs and words of encouragement, my friend said, "So does your daughter think I'm crazy?" "Are you kidding?" I replied. If there is one thing my family is used to it's seeing a crying (sometimes hysterical) woman. They are so used to it, it doesn't even faze them anymore.

In the beginning, I worried about this very thing. I was so afraid my recurring struggles with anxiety and depression would scar my children, making them view emotions in some distorted way. I determined this would not happen. So through the years I've stopped hiding my tears and been honest about my hard times. Only by acknowledging and explaining it, can I verbalize to them that emotions are human and are nothing to be afraid of. And that they (my children) are not responsible for mine. It's not their job to make me happy, or bear my sadness.

So I let them see me reading my self-help books...writing scriptures on my arms...texting a friend...or playing a sermon on cd that speaks to my soul...going to a counseling appointment...or climbing into their father's lap like a little girl being comforted by his calm solidness. I want them to know there are things you can do to help yourself when you feel bad. And that just being there with someone in their sadness is many times...enough.

I let them cheer me with surprises, like a just-loaded dishwasher or a new framed photo. I let them hold onto me for long hugs. And then I let them go on with their life, knowing that they've offered comfort, but it's ok to leave me and do their own thing. I let them see me get over it, and be happy and silly...because those are emotions too.

And I hope this is enough.