More than ten years ago (wow) I had a breakdown. I'd been secretly struggling for a while but one day I was sitting in a meeting with my boss at work going through all the projects and tasks I needed to complete. And my entire self was filled with a suffocating sense of 'I can't do this any more' while I used every iota of my energy not to fall apart right there. I remember struggling to speak while also trying not to cry. The meeting stalled. My boss sent me to see a doctor. At first it was a huge relief. I went home feeling lighter, sure I just needed 'a bit of a rest' and that I'd bounce back quickly. But I didn't bounce back quickly and when, at my next medical appointment, my doctor said 'I'm not seeing improvement' and said I was still unfit to work I remember walking home in the sunshine thinking 'What am I going to do if I don't get better?'
Over time I did get better, and went back to work, part time to start with. Supportive people in my professional and personal lives for whom I am still deeply thankful helped me, and managed to avoid everybody knowing that I'd crashed and burned. And some time later I was able to help another friend - a high flyer in their industry - when they had a similar mental health crisis, because I had been there and recognised the signs.
And that is why It's Okay Not to Be Okay is such a powerful read. It's because author Sheila Walsh has also been there, and walked that uneven path. She writes from personal experience, but she doesn't expect her experience to match everyone else's.
I'd like to quote a small piece from early in the book, where Sheila talks about reaching the point of having what she calls a 'gut-level, honest, pour-your-heart-out conversation with God':
'I held it together until I couldn't anymore. I remember a night in my bedroom where I literally soaked the floor with my tears. I was bone-tired from pretending to have it all together, from trying to be okay. So, I let God have it. I told Him I was afraid and angry and tired and sad and lonely and confused and everything else I could think of. I didn't edit myself. I just let it all out.
I believe my final words were, "I can't do this anymore."
Rather than feeling rejected by my broken outburst, I felt as if God bent down and said, "I know. I've been waiting."'
Sheila's experiences have helped her reach out to others. A powerful snippet from the book gives an example:
'A woman pulled out her cell phone to show me a picture of her son. I'll protect a few of the details to honour her privacy, but even as I looked into her eyes to comment on how handsome he was, I saw an ocean of sorrow. She had faced the unthinkable in any mother's life: having to bury her son.
The thought of that took my breath away. I had no words. All I could do was hold her and weep with her. She had come alone to the conference, which was titled "In the Middle of the Mess, Finding Strength for This Beautiful, Broken Life." I imagine that the only word that made sense to her was broken. Life was not beautiful. She didn't even want strength. She was broken. This was never the life she imagined. I was afraid to speak a word to her. What could I possibly say that would touch the depth of her pain? In what felt like a holy moment, she hugged me and through bitter tears said, "Thank you." I have no idea what God gave her that day ... The Holy Spirit had taken truth and poured salve onto a broken heart. It's a mystery to me.'
We may not all be broken to the extent that this grieving mother was, but we all carry scars on the inside. If you're struggling, I urge you to let someone you trust know. Be honest. Don't give them the sanitised version of your pain.
I'm convinced this book has already helped many people, and will help many more. Whether you're flying high or passing through the valleys, I recommend this as a personal, thoughtful, and helpful read.
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