Jillian Amodio, a licensed social worker, shares her powerful journey through postpartum depression and the profound impact it has had on her life and career. Driven by her own struggles, she founded Moms for Mental Health, a supportive community for mothers facing similar challenges. Throughout the conversation, Jillian emphasizes the importance of tailored support for different personality types, highlighting the unique needs of both introverted and extroverted individuals dealing with social anxiety and burnout. She candidly discusses her experiences with endometriosis, the difficulties of pregnancy, and the emotional aftermath of an emergency C-section. Jillian’s story is a testament to resilience and the vital role of community, compassion, and understanding in overcoming mental health challenges and finding one's identity as a mother and professional.

Jillian, a licensed social worker, opens up about her deeply personal journey through motherhood and mental health, specifically highlighting her struggles with postpartum depression following the births of her children. Her story is not only one of hardship but also of resilience and community. After experiencing her own battles with mental health, Jillian founded Moms for Mental Health, a grassroots organization that provides a supportive and nonjudgmental space for mothers facing similar challenges. Initially starting as a small coffee group for moms, it has blossomed into a thriving community that offers innovative support strategies tailored to different personality types, whether introverted or extroverted. Jillian emphasizes the importance of finding connection in motherhood, as no one should navigate the ups and downs alone.

Throughout the conversation, Jillian shares her experiences with endometriosis, the complexities of her pregnancies, and the overwhelming feelings of inadequacy that followed her emergency C-section. Her candid reflections reveal how postpartum depression can manifest in unexpected ways, including intrusive thoughts and deep feelings of unworthiness. The episode highlights the critical role of community support, as Jillian recounts how friends and family attempted to help, yet often struggled to address the underlying issues of mental health. What stands out is Jillian's commitment to creating safe spaces for mothers to express their vulnerabilities, allowing for healing and understanding.

As Jillian transitioned into her work as a social worker, she brings her lived experiences into her practice, making her a compassionate advocate for mental health. She discusses the importance of validating the experiences of clients who express suicidal thoughts, emphasizing that these moments require immense bravery. The episode culminates in a powerful reminder that mothers are not defined solely by their roles; rather, they are multi-faceted individuals who also need to pursue their own identities and passions. Jillian’s story is a testament to the strength found in vulnerability and the transformative power of community, serving as an inspiring guide for those navigating the often tumultuous waters of motherhood and mental health.

Takeaways:

• Motherhood can be isolating, and building community support is crucial for mental health.
• Jillian's experience highlights the importance of tailored support for different personality types.
• Postpartum depression can manifest in many ways and is often misunderstood by others.
• The journey through mental health struggles can lead to a deeper understanding of oneself.
• It's vital to recognize that being a mother doesn't define your entire identity.
• Seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness, especially in mental health.

Morning.

Good morning.

I would love for you to please introduce yourself and give us your backstory, if you don't mind.

Yeah.

So my name's Jillian, and I am a licensed social worker.

I work in a clinical practice doing therapy.

I have two kids, 13 and nine, and I got into the mental health field because of my own struggles with mental health, especially the mental health struggles I experienced after the birth of my children.

So I started a group called moms for mental health.

And really, what it started as was just an opportunity to get together for maybe coffee once a month with just other moms who were either dealing with their own mental health struggles or the mental health struggles of their children to just have nonjudgmental conversation.

And what I thought was gonna be this teeny little let's chat for coffee with two or three moms once a month, turned into this big movement with thousands of women who interact daily online, searching for support, because life is not meant to be done alone, and motherhood is challenging.

Motherhood is amazing.

It's one of those things where everyone's, oh, my God, you have children.

Aren't they great?

And you're like, sometimes they're great, but a lot of times they're not.

It's hard life in general, the ups and the downs, none of it is supposed to be experienced alone by nature, we're a community driven species.

We're supposed to be together.

We're supposed to be with other people.

And that doesn't just relate to those who are outwardly extroverted, even those who are introverts.

We still need a community.

We still need people to support us and remind us that we're not alone.

That's an interesting conundrum.

Yeah.

Like the whole introvert versus extrovert type.

Yeah, definitely.

And it's funny, especially with my work with the group moms to mental health, the way we combat that is those with social anxiety or those who are just, like, really burnt out after big groups will either do a mix of online.

So, for instance, actually, this Sunday, we have a Facebook live meditation session, like a guided meditation, where those who aren't really interested in getting together and talking and having big conversations, but they still want that sense of support and community.

They can come and join this Facebook live.

They're just with this community of support, surrounding them in silence, or with a guided meditation, offering support for their mental health and giving them a place to relax and unwind and reflect, but it doesn't drain their social battery.

But then we also do in person events like coffee, meetups and they're super low key where, like, listen, you don't even have to RSVP.

I don't care if you decide if you want to come morning up, does it matter?

And if you have social anxiety, once you get into the parking lot, text us, let us know, and we'll send somebody out.

Somebody will come to your car and walk in with you so you don't have to walk in alone.

So really, it's just about figuring out what people's needs are.

Everybody needs connection, but everybody connects in different ways.

That is so important.

I haven't really seen or heard anyone touch on this.

I think that's incredibly important.

Yeah, it is.

Because when we think of traditional support groups, for instance, it's, okay, let's go around in a circle and let's share and let's talk about our shared experiences.

And that is really helpful for a lot of people.

But sometimes there's people who just want to sit back in the shadows a little bit.

And it's not because they're antisocial.

It's not because they're nervous.

It's not because they're ashamed.

It's just because that they're more of an observant personality.

And that's something to be celebrated, too.

Or maybe you fill your cup by being alone.

Or maybe at the end of a long day with your children, you can't.

Imagine giving, I don't want to sit human anymore.

Right?

Yeah.

Yeah.

And I think that's the great thing with an online group, too, is you interact on your own time.

If you're in a moment, maybe you're hiding in the bathroom.

You're like, I have to pee.

But really, you're sitting there on your phone.

You can scroll through the Facebook feed on the group and go, okay, what are other people experiencing today?

Oh, you know what?

I really resonate with that.

That makes sense.

I'm going to like that.

I'm going to comment on that, or, oh, my gosh, I'm hiding from my kids in the pantry.

I'm quickly just going to write this post real quick to vent that I'm ready to scream, but then I'm going to walk out of this pantry and put my Mary Poppin smile on.

So tell me about, if you don't mind, your first experience.

You were young.

Yeah.

So I don't know.

It's weird because people always talk about, oh, I never wanted kids, or, I always wanted kids.

And when I think about it, I'm like, I don't know.

Actually, I don't know what I wanted when I was younger.

I think I probably imagined myself married with kids, but I never really gave it any thought.

And then my husband and I got married when we were 18.

Worked out for us.

Absolutely.

Great.

Awesome.

I don't recommend getting married at 18.

Definitely a rye.

You're growing as an individual, and then you have to learn to grow as this couple while your frontal lobe is still developing.

So that's an interesting thing.

We got married at 18, and I found out when I was 19 years old that I have endometriosis, which was really no surprise, because ever since I started puberty, the pain associated not only with just my menstrual cycles or just my period, but also throughout my menstrual cycle was unbearable.

I was missing school.

I was missing work.

I was vomiting and fainting from, and I was like, this can't be normal.

Like, something has to be going on.

And when I was finally diagnosed with endometriosis, it was a relief because it's okay now.

We have a path forward.

But then I was also faced with this, like, question of, okay, doctors are telling me if I want to have kids, I need to do it now, because it might not happen ever otherwise.

And that also wasn't that surprising.

So I was born via in vitro.

I'm one of three.

I'm a triplet.

That's right, that's right.

Yeah.

And I knew my mom went through that, and that was definitely something that I just.

I didn't know if I wanted to go down that road.

And I'm also one of those stubborn people where if you can't do something, I'm gonna be like, watch me.

Focus on me.

Cause when they're like, hey, you might not be able to get pregnant.

I was like, I'm gonna do it right now.

So, yeah, that was how I found myself pregnant at 21, which is fine, but I also don't think I knew what really went into pregnancy.

And postpartum, I was completely unprepared.

All I was hearing from friends and family was, oh, my gosh.

This is gonna be great.

This is gonna be the best time of your life.

You're gonna welcome this baby into the world, and your life is gonna be complete.

You're gonna know a love unlike any other.

This is your passion and your purpose in life.

And some of that's true, but also there's this whole dark side of it that literally no one prepared me for.

And my pregnancy was rough.

It was rough in the beginning.

I don't really know that we got an answer as to why.

But I was fainting almost daily, every time I would stand up.

It wasn't just this, oh, I feel lightheaded.

It was like I can't breathe.

And I was fainting, like up to seven times a day.

So I couldn't drive, I couldn't get out of bed, I couldn't work anymore.

So I was put on bed rest and it was, I don't know, it'll fix itself when the baby comes.

So that already started depression, because I have always been a very independent person and I've always worked, like, my entire, like, older adolescent life.

I mean, I started babysitting, of course, at like twelve.

And by 14, I was working a pretty steady part time job.

By 16, I was working almost full time hours and I had been working full time then by the time 17 or 18, up until the birth of my child.

So it was like, or close to the birth of my child.

It was just weird to be like, okay, now I'm not doing anything.

Like, I'm nothing.

What's my purpose?

What's my value to society right now?

So I tried to, like, combat that with things like online classes.

I was like, I'll continue my education.

But the anxiety and the depression began to set in early and I didn't know it.

I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't identify what it was.

And then when I had my first child, it was an emergency c section.

So not only was I struggling through the pregnancy, but my daughter was struggling too.

She, like, her heart rate kept dropping, so they were really concerned.

I was going in for regular monitoring.

And the last monitoring session I went in for, they're like, we have to take her now.

Like, her heart rate is way too low.

She's not going to survive.

We have to take her.

So that was, it was another moment where I didn't have control.

And I think what we all want in control, what we all want in life, is autonomy and control.

And in that moment, I had none.

So we rushed, we did the C section.

They put this baby in my arms.

And I don't know why, but the first thing I said, I looked at my mom and I said, is she supposed to look like that?

And my mom's like, what?

And I was like, I don't know.

She looks weird.

My mom was like, that's a newborn.

That's what a newborn looks like.

And then the next thing I knew, I was just sobbing.

And they were not those tears of joy.

They were not those tears of, oh, my gosh, this is my life's passion.

This is my life's purpose.

They were tears of uncontrollable grief.

And in that moment, I know it's a lie now, but in that moment, my brain was telling me, you're unworthy and you're undeserving, and you will be, without a doubt, the worst mother ever, and your child deserves better.

And the only thing you can do to fix this is to not exist.

So postpartum depression hit me like a brick wall.

I did not know that's what it was.

Asides from the outward symptoms of crying, I think I hit it very well, but it did not get better for a very long time.

Experience.

Oh, my.

I'm so sorry.

And the emergency c section, it's not just not having control, it's complete disempowerment.

Absolutely.

And you don't have a say in anything.

They're like, this is what we're doing, and we're doing it now, and we're doing it.

Yeah, yeah.

And it's interesting that you say that, too, because I don't.

I remember the anesthesiologist being really gentle and really kind and just trying to soothe my anxiety, but nobody else was talking to me.

They were talking at me, and I don't remember feeling like I had a single ally in that room.

And not to say my husband wasn't there.

He was, but I think he was just as shocked as I was.

You have to remember, we were both 21, and we were both like, we have no idea what's happening.

So, yeah, it was rough and a.

Moment that could be, I'm bringing life into this world, whatever.

But instead, it was like, I'm having life ripped out of me, and I don't feel in control.

I don't feel empowered.

I don't feel safe.

I don't feel like I have a knowledge or understanding of what's happening.

Well, yeah, it was not a beautiful start to motherhood.

Yeah.

Set you up for failure.

Not for failure.

That's not the right word.

That's what it felt like, though.

I think it embodies what I felt.

Yeah.

That might not be the truth of the situation, but that's definitely the messaging that the environment and my brain were telling me.

You've already failed.

Yeah, you've already failed.

You're bringing your daughter into the world in a state of chaos, and you've already failed to.

Right.

They had to intervene.

It had to be an emergency.

And that's your fault.

It's a failure.

Yeah.

Cause they tried to induce.

They tried the pitocin, and I wasn't.

I was having awful contractions, but I wasn't dilating at all.

Like, nothing there.

And they just kept saying, just relax.

Let your body work.

And I'm like, I don't.

What do you mean?

Let my body, like, what am I supposed to do?

I don't.

How do I do that?

What do you want me to do?

So did you.

You said you hit it.

Well, did you tell anybody?

No.

I was so ashamed, and I was so embarrassed.

And I knew.

I didn't know what motherhood should feel like because I hadn't done it before, but I knew it shouldn't feel like this.

But I also didn't know how to tell people, I'm not supposed to be a mom.

I'm not supposed to do this.

I'm not good at this.

I don't know how to do it.

I feel like I'm failing.

I feel like my daughter deserves better.

Like, how do you say that without.

I don't know.

My brain was, how do I say that without sounding terrible?

How do I say that without sounding crazy?

Now I know.

I'm like, you just say it.

That's how I'm feeling.

I need help.

That's what you say.

But I didn't know how to do that.

So I suffered in silence.

And there were signs.

I was crying all the time.

I wasn't sleeping.

I would go to sleep, and then I would wake up with these horrible.

They weren't really nightmares.

Cause it was like a lucid dream almost, where I would be convinced that my daughter was laying dead in her crib or that her head had caved in somehow or someone had taken her.

It was just.

And it wasn't just intrusive thoughts.

Those were there, too.

But these were very vivid lucid dreams where I was convinced I would sometimes shake my husband and be like, oh, my God, you have to go check.

Her face is caved in.

And he's like, what are you talking about?

I'm like, I can see her face is caved in.

I can't go look at her.

And he would go and check on her, and the baby's sleeping, and he's.

She's fine.

Like, what's.

You know, what's wrong?

But I couldn't get out of this cycle of horrifying imagery and horrifying intrusive thoughts.

And I couldn't sleep.

People would come over and be like, just go take a nap.

I'll hold the baby.

But I would close my eyes and even if she wasn't crying, all I could hear was crying.

I could just hear screaming and crying.

And my brain was, like, constantly telling me that something was wrong.

And it really got so bad that I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't.

It was awful.

But again, I didn't see anything.

I remember taking the baby out for a walk.

She was maybe a week old, and I got the stroller out of my car, and when I closed the trunk of my car, her head wobbled.

That's it.

It was just like, boop.

Just like a little infant wobble.

But my brain was telling me, oh, my God, you broke her neck.

So I'm sitting there, and again, she's fine.

She's literally in my arms fine, factually.

But my brain is telling me, you broke her neck because you shut the car door too hard.

I sat on the curb, and I just started crying and just bawling.

And this jogger comes by, and he's, are you okay?

And I'm like, no, I'm not okay.

I can't do this.

I can't be a mom.

And he says, there's somebody I can call.

And he called my mom for me.

And my mom came over, and my mom is like, she's fine.

Look at her.

She's fine.

Nothing's wrong with her.

We got over that.

But it was like those things happened all the time.

They're brainstor.

Do you feel like they weren't.

Do you feel like those signs weren't picked up on?

I think everybody was walking on eggshells.

Nobody wants to tell you, hey, I don't think you're okay.

And even when I went for, like, the postpartum checkup at six weeks, they give you that piece of paper that's, do you have thoughts of harming yourself?

Do you have thoughts of harming your baby?

Do you have thoughts of all these things?

And I'm like, I don't know what happens if I check yes.

And then I asked, I was like, what happens if I check yes?

And it depends.

And I'm like, okay, it depends on what?

And they're like, it depends, okay, I don't know what happened, so I'm just gonna check no.

And I'm sitting there sobbing in the office, but because I check no on the boxes, they're like, okay, you can have sex again.

Go ahead.

And I'm like, okay, thank you.

I think everybody knew, and everybody tried to help in their way.

They would come over, I have my best friend's mom was so sweet.

She would come over and pretend that everything was perfectly normal and be like, I'm just gonna clean your house.

And I'm like, oh, my God, my house is disgusting.

And she said, no, I love cleaning.

And she would just talk.

Just fill the silence and just talk and clean my house.

My best friend would come over, and she would just hold the baby, and if I would be crying, she's, what do you need?

Uh huh.

Food.

What do you want?

So they definitely tried to offer support, but no one really came right out and said, hey, something's wrong.

And the way I got through postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety with my first was just wait.

And I waited probably, like, a year.

And then slowly, I was just like, oh, weird.

Life's not so bad anymore, huh?

I haven't cried today.

Oh, I feel like I'm breathing deeper.

I feel, like, lighter.

Oh, I haven't worried that my daughter's face caved in today.

It was just these little moments of clarity that then became the norm.

I think the base level anxiety was still there, but it was much more manageable.

Yeah.

I just waited, at least with my first.

Yeah.

Not a good approach.

No.

A year is a long time to suffer.

Yeah.

And I lost friends.

Some friends could see that I was struggling but didn't know how to help.

And they just either told me flat out, like, I don't know what to do.

You're not the same person.

Like, I don't want to talk to you anymore.

Or they just slowly faded out of my life.

And I think my relationship with my husband suffered not, you know, that we were ever in, like, a terrible place, but it was like he could see that I wasn't myself.

But also, how do you say to your spouse, hey, you're not yourself?

Especially again.

Cause we were 21.

Yeah.

How do you see that?

How do you approach that?

We both just danced around this intruder in our home.

That was postpartum depression.

And I can imagine being 21 and your friend do not know how to help you or even talk to you.

No.

They're out drinking and partying and staying up late and carefree, and they love you, and they want to support you, but it's like watching a train wreck.

What do you do to stop it?

You don't, so you just watch it happen.

I had the conversations with my mom, but also, her experience was so different.

She went through a vitro, she fought to be here, and every mountain she climbed was like, I don't care how hard it is.

This is the victory.

And then her experience was hard for a different reason.

We were born super early.

We were very premature.

We were like two pounds each.

We were on heart monitors and in incubators, and we were getting oxygen, and we were in the NICU forever.

So her entire postpartum experience was really spent within the hospital environment.

Her experience was just different.

Not to say she didn't struggle.

She absolutely struggled.

She had babies that she didn't know if they were going to survive or nothing.

Imagine that burden.

But her experience was just different.

And also, the way we talk about mental health is different.

I don't even think we were really having that discussion.

I don't think it was really even a thing.

So when did you become a social worker?

Yeah.

So that journey, interestingly enough.

So I graduated high school, and I immediately started classes at the community college.

I wanted to get my associate's degree.

I knew I wanted to go into the helping field.

I wanted to be a therapist.

But then having a child at 21 really put a hold on that.

So I was like, I'm going to take a semester off just to get adjusted to, like, motherhood.

And that semester turned into a ten year break and two kids.

Yeah.

So after I had my second child, which, again, I did experience extreme postpartum depression, and that came with suicidality to the point that I had a plan.

I had.

I think I'm lucky I made it out of that one alive.

That one.

I did have to seek help, because it was painfully obvious that if somebody didn't intervene, I was not gonna be here.

So after I got over that hump of that second postpartum depression and extreme suicidality, I really had this overwhelming desire to reclaim my own existence.

And I had never stopped working.

I was either doing home daycare, I was a licensed home daycare provider for a while.

With my first, I owned two yoga studios.

I was a yoga teacher and a writer.

So I did all of these things around parenting.

But also, I think it's important to note, too, that when I say I was a home daycare provider and people were listening to this and they're like, oh, my God, if you were like that depressed, how are you taking care of other children?

But also, when I look back, my brain was telling me I'm terrible and I'm not worthy.

I'm not doing anything.

But if I look at home videos and stuff, I'm so engaged with my kids, I'm laughing and I'm on the floor playing with them, and I'm taking them everywhere, and I'm doing these enrichment activities.

I'm doing all the things, but my brain was telling me I'm doing nothing.

So it's really interesting.

When I look back, I'm like, all of the evidence is there that I was an excellent mother, that I was always present, I was always kind, I was patient, I was loving, I was there, I was doing things, but my brain was telling me, you're not doing anything.

So that was an aside.

But.

So after the birth of my second child, when I really started to question, what do I want to do with my life the rest of my life?

I would take my kids to my yoga studio and they would sit in the back and nap or play with toys while I taught yoga classes, or I would do mommy me yoga classes where everybody had their kids.

And it was great and I loved it.

But there was still this pull of, I love yoga, I love meditation, I love mindfulness, but there's still.

I want more.

I want to be in the mental health field because I almost lost my life to mental illness.

And I know there's nothing.

I know there's more work to be done and I want to be part of that work.

So I went back to school and I finished my bachelor's degree and I finished my master's degree, and I got back into the field and it was this crazy transition of, oh, my gosh.

I've always worked from home or in an environment where I can bring my kids.

What does this look like now that I'm working outside of the home?

My kids are older.

They're 13 and nine.

They were old enough, they were at school, and I figured that was the best time.

And both of them are in school.

Most of my working hours are during the day.

I get home either right around the same time they do or a little later.

Now I work a couple late nights, but also, like, they don't want anything to do with me.

Now they're like, I don't know.

Are you going to feed me dinner?

If you're going to feed me dinner, I'm fine.

I just had to find my balance and find my stride.

And it's interesting because I always thought if I'm not home, my kids are going to think I don't love them.

But my kids are always telling me how proud they are of me, and my kids are always telling me that the work I do is important.

And I love that because they're the ones building the confidence in myself that I wasn't able to see if that makes sense.

That's beautiful.

They know.

They're.

They're special little guys.

That's so beautiful.

Yeah, it is.

They're a gift, even when they're a menace.

I love my mom, and I don't mean this in any negative light, but my mom gave up her entire life to raise kids.

That was her entire existence.

We were her purpose and her passion and her world.

And she gave up everything to be with us her entire life.

And what did that mean when we grew up?

She had no sense of self.

She had no sense of identity.

So what do I do with my life?

My kids are grown.

My kids are gone.

Who am I?

And I saw that struggle, and I still see that struggle unfolding as my mom still tries to find her place in the world.

And she's a beautiful soul.

I love this woman to pieces, but it's sad to see her sometimes question, who am I?

And what have I done with my life?

And I knew that I didn't want that for myself.

Not to say that being a stay at home mom is not incredible.

It is.

And if that is truly your passion, and that's where you belong, and that's where you're deriving, like, your fulfillment from, that's excellent.

And also, what are you doing for yourself?

Whether that's just self care, whether it's volunteer work, whether it's part time job, whatever it is, whether it's just socializing with friends outside of your kids, whatever it is, don't lose sight of the fact that you are more than just a mom.

Mom can be your most treasured role, but it's not your entire identity.

And if we lose ourself in that identity, eventually it comes to the surface, and you're like, I don't know who I am anymore.

And that hurts.

My schedule is still flexible enough.

If my kids need me, I'm gonna be there.

I will shift clients.

I will cancel meetings.

I will be there.

But the majority of the day, they don't need me now.

And it's funny cause sometimes I'll be like, oh, my gosh, I have an unexpected day off.

Do you guys want to do something?

And they're like, no.

Okay, cool.

But at night, that's when they need me again.

Like, my youngest, he still wants me to read to him at night and sing to him.

And my oldest doesn't want that, but she wants me to say goodnight.

She wants me there.

They want help with their homework, or they want to tell me about whatever drama just happened at school today, or whatever win they just experienced at school today.

So being present, it took me a long time to realize that being present looks different at each age.

So, yes, when they were toddlers or infants, I was literally always there because they always needed me.

I was their lifeline.

I was their everything.

But as they get older, they need me less.

And that's not a sign of me not being available.

That's a sign that I've raised kids with healthy attachments, and that's a sign that I've raised kids with healthy sense of self and confidence.

If they were still attached to me constantly at nine and 13, I'd have to worry.

I'd have to worry.

Why can't you function outside of my presence?

Yeah.

We don't raise them to stay with us forever.

We raise them to leave the nest.

We kill.

Yeah.

And I had to come to that reality check because I'd be like, oh, my gosh, I used to do so much with them, and I used to be in crafts all day long and baking and cooking and taking them on walks.

And I'm like, okay, realistically, julia, what would happen if I told my kids, okay, all day long, you're gonna be with mommy today, we're gonna bake, and we're gonna cook, and we're gonna play games, and we're gonna do crafts?

They would be like, no, we're not actually doing that.

It's different stages.

And in a way, I do have to say that I'm grateful for my experience with depression, with postpartum depression.

I'm happy it didn't end my life, obviously, but I'm grateful for my experience because I think it makes me a better mom to know what it looks like to overcome struggles.

I do have a child with mental health struggles, and I think it makes me more compassionate and more understanding.

Oh, yeah.

And I think it makes me a better provider in the clinical sense, is I'm not just relying on theory.

I'm not just relying on evidence based practice.

I'm relying on lived experiences.

And then it also helps because I can help break the stigma.

I can be like, yeah, my life was literally a shit show for several years, but I'm fine now.

I'm good.

Life is great.

There's still challenges because it's life.

Life is comfortably uncomfortable.

Or the scarier thing is my family would be better off if I was gone.

Those are the scary thoughts, right?

I am a burden.

I am a burden just by being here.

Yeah.

I think that's the scariest thought that goes through our head.

But when you say it out loud, you take away that power.

You take away its power.

Or someone.

At least you do.

And also, it's almost like fact checking.

It's like when I say it out loud, I'm like, okay, that doesn't sound as great out loud as it sounds in my head.

Yeah.

And I think our minds are very skilled at lying to us.

We really are.

We can convince ourselves of some really scary truths that aren't true.

But our brain gives us all of the feedback and all of the supporting evidence to prove that those thoughts are true.

And then when we speak them out loud into existence and we really start to actually fact check it and do some reality checking, we're like, you know what?

I don't think.

I don't think that's right.

I'm seeing little cracks here.

I'm seeing little flaws in this logic.

I think so.

And then the problem is, how do we get them comfortable?

When I have clients in my office who tell me they're suicidal, who share their plan with me, who say I want to die, there's never a look of shock on my face.

There's never this.

Oh, my gosh.

Why would you say that?

It's always, I'm so happy you told me.

Thank you so much.

That is such a heavy burden to bear alone.

Let's talk about this.

Let me take some of that pain.

Let's work through this.

Why are we feeling that way?

And I always tell them they're brave.

I'm like, oh, my gosh.

You are so brave for sharing that right now.

Thank you so much.

I know that took a lot of strength.

I know that took a lot of vulnerability.

I'm so proud of you.

That's one of the worst things you'll ever do, and I'm so proud of you.

And I think on a lot of their faces, you do see this.

My gosh, I just told the world.

I just told somebody my deepest, darkest secret.

And I wasn't met with shock or disgust or shame.

I was met with gratitude.

I was met with love.

I was met with support.

And then we start.

And with the safety planning, and then we start in with, okay, what is our next step?

Are we safe if we go home today?

What supports do we need to build in?

What measures do we need to take to ensure that we can get you through this?

Cause it's not a magic fix.

It's not.

Okay, thanks for telling me.

Bye.

We have to make sure they're safe.

But it's always with compassion.

It's always with kindness.

It's always with extreme gratitude.

And letting them know from a strength based perspective, like, you have no idea the strength it took for you to say that.

You might think it's a weakness that you are feeling this way, but you walked in this door, you sat down across from me, looked me in the eye and told me, I want to die.

What an incredible amount of strength it took to say that today.

So, yeah, I think that can be incredibly empowering, just giving validation.

But I think it's really important to recognize that it's, yes, I am doing important work as a clinician, but it's the people on the other side of the room, the clients, they're doing the important work.

They're the ones showing up.

They're the ones processing feelings.

They're the ones facing uncomfortable truths and taking the next step and fighting another day and pushing through the discomfort and learning distress, tolerance.

They are.

They're the ones really fighting the battle.