It was a typical afternoon. My oldest daughters had just arrived home from school and were unpacking their things in the kitchen. I began my usual questions starting with “How was your day?” and multiple conversations were filling the air when one particular sentence caught my attention.   “I saw a counselor today,” B mentioned nonchalantly while pulling wads of papers from her school binder. I was immediately concerned, confused, and had to stop and pause for a moment. I interrupted her, “What do you mean you went to a counselor today?” I asked.  Still shuffling between her backpack, the refrigerator, and the pantry, she began relaying a story I had not expected.

It all started when B shared a secret with one of her friends at school. Unfortunately, a game of telephone followed, giving way to this tightly held information. When B found out her friend had betrayed her trust, she was understandably upset. Sadness turned to devastation when learning that her secret had spread even further, as she followed one trail to the next. When B asked one of the girls why they had given away her secret, they were offended by the question and responded back defensively. With a whirlwind of negative emotions enveloping her, B was a state of distress. The situation was brought to the teacher’s attention, and B was sent to see the counselor on campus in an effort to help her feel better.

“So what did you talk about with the counselor?” I asked, genuinely curious. “She just asked me about what happened with the other girls and we talked about it. Then we talked about what we could do next time, so hopefully it won’t happen again,” B replied. “Oh,” I responded, letting the thought of my eight-year-old seeing a counselor roll around in my mind. “She is there in case we need help working something out,” my daughter added. Her story ended, and she was headed to the living room, a snack and drink cupped in both hands.

My first experience with a counselor was when my Dad took me and my siblings when I was fourteen.  My parents were going through the beginnings of a divorce and it wasn’t consensual. This was a shaky time for me in life. Things at home had not been good for some time now, and I was emotionally unstable. That visit to a family therapist was a one-time thing and ultimately benefited  me very little. It wasn’t until I started seeing another counselor about a year later, and on a regular basis, that I gained the value of seeking professional help.

This source as a vulnerable teenager dealing with the challenges of divorce and chaos was paramount. It helped me to get through a rough patch in my life when things were very uncertain, and at times very tense and scary at home. He helped me to talk through all the different feelings I was going through, and the questions on my mind. His counsel always left me feeling more calm and confident, like I could keep going, and eventually, things would get better.

After that time I didn’t see another counselor until four years into my marriage. Maintaining a healthy relationship with someone who doesn’t think exactly like you is no easy task. I reached out to the same counselor I had seen in my teens and met with him a few times. He listened to my marriage concerns, validated me and added some tools to my belt to help me move forward. He worked to help change my perceptions of others and their actions, especially those of my husband. This counselor taught me that I was in the wrong at times for making assumptions about my husband’s actions or inactions and what they meant. He wrote down the name of a book that he felt would make a difference in my relationships. These resources continue to be a blessing to me throughout my marriage and in other relationships as well.

Fast forward several years to the first six months after Josie’s birth. Up until then, anxiety and depression were just words used on pharmaceutical commercials.  I grew to know them personally during this postpartum period. It was the first time I had that tight feeling in my chest on a daily basis, brought on by something as simple as my toddler asking me for a snack. Over time, and as I realized the anxiety wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, it was coupled with consistent dark days of depression and eventually harmful thoughts.  I had fallen into a deep pit of despair and the thoughts inside my head told me that I was worthless, that my family would be fine without me, and that it was OK for me to “go.” Even scarier was that I found these thoughts believable at times because of all the pain I was going through, and the lack of confidence in my abilities as a mother.

After realizing no one else was going to get me the help I needed, I made the call to LDS Family Services. I saw a counselor there for several months, and while she wasn’t the best fit (looking back), having her there to listen, validate and counsel me through some horribly dark months was lifesaving. Once things began to stabilize, I stopped seeing her and went on with life.

Another few years passed, and life continued to offer its learning experiences. Our marriage was suddenly on the rocks. We had been through several dips and waves in the past, but this was rock bottom. I was devastated and swallowed up in depression because of it. My soul was crushed, and hope was bleeding out of me. I began having harmful thoughts again, but this time to help distract from the pain of the situation. Once again, I reached out for help, and took my pain and struggles to a new counselor in hopes for encouragement and direction. She helped me square up the situation and look at my options. She was validating and didn’t judge.  Our work together lasted several months, and fortunately, our marriage was on the mend; I was off again on my own.

Jack was born last September, and unfortunately, his birth was traumatic. Afterward, I felt broken and abandoned, and patterns of negative beliefs were brought up to the surface. Some things inside of me that I thought I had processed, were once again taking over. I did six weeks of energy work and counseling right after he was born, and things seemed to be getting better. I wasn’t getting triggered as easily, although I have yet to write his full birth story, and I still don’t understand everything quite yet. Life went on.

Then, months of sleep deprivation started to pile up, along with a load of mothering five children under eight. Add on the callings, and the side sales work, the house, and the marriage and I started losing hope again. This whole “mom” thing just wasn’t working out.  My anxiety was in full force and many days I felt like I was being tortured. I saw my medical provider and decided to try antidepressants. When they didn’t help, and in my case made things worse, I made the call once again. I’ve been working with an amazing psychologist and am reaping the benefits of better mental, emotional and physical health because of it. She gets me, she validates me, and she’s teaching me how to cope with life in healthy ways and keep my feelings and harder days from taking over. She also puts me in my place when needed. I love her!

When my daughter told me she saw a counselor at school, my knee jerk reaction was to feel negative about it, and well, that it shouldn’t happen. My kids are just fine, they don’t need any help! It’s based on the false idea that needing help equals weakness, or that only people who have something inherently wrong with them would need a counselor. When was the last time you heard a friend or family member talk about going to see a counselor? Was it in a Facebook post, a sacrament meeting talk, or at the park with a friend while your kids played?

The truth is, telling someone that you are seeing a counselor or going to therapy is often seen as sad and shameful. While I understand that it’s personal, and not necessarily something to shout from the rooftops, when never spoken about it creates a stigma.  The reality is that we are all human, and consequently have weaknesses.  Whether your Instagram feed portrays it or not, WE ALL HAVE PROBLEMS, and sometimes they cannot be solved without seeking professional help.

After some thought, I realized that I’m actually glad my kids have a counselor available to them at school. I’m grateful that they now know at an early age what a counselor is and how they can help. I hope that as they get older they will remember that there is value in seeking professional help when it’s needed and that it’s not a bad or shameful thing.

For that positive perspective to stick, I’m going to need to reflect that belief as well, which means not getting all weird if they mention something about it. So I’ve made it a point, to be honest with them. When they ask me where I’m going when the babysitter comes over, I don’t cover it up anymore, I just straight out tell them. I’m going to see my counselor. She helps me with the things I’m struggling with, so I can be a better, happier person and ultimately a better mom. We talk about how it’s hard at times doing my job, and that I don’t always know what to do or how to handle things that come up. Believe it or not, they get it, because well they are human too.

*Special thanks to my daughter “B” for giving me permission to share her story on my blog.

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