In January, everything changed. Sure, we rolled over to the halfway through the decade, and the new year, but more than that, my family experienced a major life event. Not a birth, not a death, but a ‘major mental health crisis’. Respecting the privacy of my family, I will not really say much more than that. However, it has had a lasting and significant impact on my life and family, and has essentially brought my world to a halt.

My list, my goals, my everything has paused. All my energy and focus has been placed on helping this person. Just like when my step father was diagnosed with cancer back in 2019 and I moved in with him and Mom to help out, this is very much the same. I would not have it any other way, when needed, I always want to be there.

When Ken got the diagnosis, it caught us all off guard. Quite literally, the week before, Ken was marching through the bush working. He had a pain in his side that just wouldn’t quit so he went to the hospital. Was sent to the city for testing and with in days, learned he had kidney cancer. Within a week, we learned just how bad it was, a couple weeks later, we learned it had metastasized. That was November 2018, March 1, 2019, he got worse and I moved in with them. He passed away in May. I stayed on with my Mom to help pack up the farm as she didn’t want to spend another winter there.

I didn’t think twice about how I was needed by them. Not only to help care for Ken, but support them – my Mom and him. Emotionally, physically, mentally. I just did it. My sister too. My step siblings were there as much as possible too. It’s just what family does.

So when everything broke loose in January, instead of calling in help, we retreated. Closed ranks and didn’t let anyone in. I rationalized (and still do) that it isn’t my story to tell. It isn’t, not really, but I realized recently – and many days previous, that all of it is having an impact on my mental health. But then I think “How selfish!” and shut down, buckle down, and trod forward because it is what is needed. I’ll break down another day. Sometimes, I sit in the car and drink a coffee. Sometimes, I cry on the phone to my best friend. Sometimes, I write madly in my journal. There are days I forget to eat until I stand up and am dizzy. Some evenings, I stare at the TV for hours but couldn’t tell you what I watched.

I am getting to a point where I am living this life for someone else but I no longer know how to properly support them. Everything I say (and do) is wrong and whether that I because I actually am wrong, or whether it is because our respective mental illness is getting in the way, I don’t know. But I do know it is crushing me.

The things going on in life feel permanent. I honestly do not see an end to what is going on. I do not know how to help anymore. It doesn’t seem to matter what I try, it all comes up short. I know depression lies. I know my person is struggling so much they can’t see the light of day. No matter how much I want them to, right now, they see nothing but nothingness ahead of them.

Sadly, my province, like so many others, has little to no help for those in trouble with mental health problems. There is emergency help, sort of. It is insanely hard to access and is extremely short term and diagnostic, at best. Any ‘long term’ mental health treatment clinics have a six month to one year wait list, and is 100% voluntary commitment. Private clinics can cost upwards of $40K with no guarantee of results.

So, while I want to work on my list, write my stories, and share my journey with the world, the voices in my head are busy. Many days are filled with struggles to get going, fights, crying, battles of wills, and appointments. Real life called and I had to answer. Hold the line, caller, I’ll be back soon.