Mental Illness is Not the Same as a Lack of Mental Fitness

My mental strength is not always apparent to my children. I do everything in my power to manage my mental illness. This includes therapy, medication, supplementation, exercise, and dietary restriction of problematic foods. It also includes telling my children when I'm having a hard time and need to take a break.

My kids know my closet is my safe space. We all have spots we frequent to calm down. My eldest son goes on the trampoline. My middle child gets under the blanket in my bed. My youngest chooses my arms or the shower. I go into my closet and close the door.

My daughter, yesterday, wanted to be snuggled and tickled.

Recently, I was in the closet and my kids hadn't heard me telling them where I was. They came looking for me. My middle sweetheart came straight to my room and said, "Mom, are you in there?"

I told him yes.

"Okay."

His sister started to open the door.

"No, don't open it," he said kindly. "She's calming down. She'll come out when she feels better."

Me from my daughter's POV.

I lay across my closet floor and cried because his understanding was both complete and supportive. I used to feel ashamed that, as an adult, I needed such a "childish" calm down space. In fact, I rejected the space for months when a therapist suggested it was regressive. That is how I discovered my autism. It was ultimately a good development, but I was severely disregulated due to denying myself my safe space.

I have had to work to be proud of listening to my body and using the space again. By refusing to interrupt me, my son validated me in several ways. First, he demonstrated that he recognized my need for the space. Second, he stated that I was succeeding in my use of the space. Third, he maintained the sanctity of the space because safe spaces and calming down are important.

In my home, we talk about recognizing and honoring our bodily needs in the same terms as our mental and spiritual needs. It is important to rejuvenate all aspects of ourselves in order to be our best.

Sometimes that means goofy selfies to make ourselves giggle.

I know that my choice to tell the kids I'm calming down in my closet seems odd. I have judged myself for it for years. But the truth is I am modeling self-regulating behavior that my children follow. They are stronger mentally because we celebrate taking care of ourselves. Self-chosen time outs are our norm.

But the kids don't always see this as a strength. It is frustrating to have a mother who can't self-regulate with deep breaths. Who, after walking around the grocery store, has to sit in the car for several minutes with her ears covered and her eyes shut before driving.

Yes, they understand. Yes, they support. But they also see other parents who are able to truck through life in regulation. Like their father. Or their grandparents. Or their friends' parents. In comparison, I look unhealthy.

Here's the thing: "mental illness" doesn't mean unhealthy. It implies dysfunction that may or may not be managed. Mine is managed. I am healthy even though I experience mental illness. I know plenty of unhealthy people with no apparent mental illness just as I know other healthy, mentally ill people.

I am physically very well. Here I am working on handstands at the gym yesterday. Photo credit goes to Kid 1.

I hope my choice to be open about my self-regulatory needs benefit my children, that one day they see how much strength it took to set judgment aside and share the imperfect parts of myself with them. I hope they know that I do it because it makes me a better parent, more consistent, more present. I hope they set aside what society says about those of us with different ways of processing experiences and recognize that every person is unique, every body has different needs, just as does every mind.