Telling Our Stories- Living in the Yellow Zone
We hope that telling our stories will help strengthen our community and give hope to others in similar situations. This anonymous reflection is one parent’s journey through their child’s mental health struggles.
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My family is coming up on the one year anniversary of a recent move we made. It’s been a tough change for our entire family but particularly for my husband and me. He and I never wanted to live where we are now. March 15th marks the one year attempt by our daughter to take her life. For the past 12 months we’ve been living in what I’ve come to refer to as “The Yellow Zone”.
We knew for a while our daughter was dealing with depression. We understood from the doctors that it wasn’t uncommon at her stage of life and they assured us with treatment and medication she should be fine. But there were things we didn’t know.
We didn’t know how hard it would be to keep her motivated to take her medicine. We didn’t know to listen to her when she said she didn’t like how it made her feel and we didn’t know we should have gone back to the doctors to work through other options. We didn’t know that adjusting the medication, changing the type she used and trying new ways to treat her illness is a very common thing in these situations; especially early on. We’d never lived in the yellow zone before and we didn’t know anyone we could talk to. We didn’t know how things worked here, and most people didn’t really know how to talk about life in the yellow zone.
We also underestimated the impact of the pandemic. Sure, we knew she was having a hard time with the changes. She spent hours in her room, working and studying and sometimes, unknown to us, spiraling with her illness. By the time we knew how weak she was feeling our sweet girl was being carried by an ambulance to the hospital. As parents, we moved into an abyss of fear and angst. Our child purposefully overdosed in order to end her life. We were evicted from our green zone of relative normalcy and slammed into the red zone of survival.
We lived in the red zone for what seemed like forever as we struggled to find our footing in the swirl of mental health options and restrictions. We grappled with insurance requirements, unavailable mental health providers, and limitations on our ability to get help. The first weeks were horrible and were compounded by the fact that our daughter was an adult. As an adult she didn’t need to share anything with us and at first she didn’t. After her hospital stay she went to an in-patient treatment facility. We travelled to her location to drop off items of comfort; her pillow, a blanket, a book and always her favorite fast food meal. But we couldn’t see her, touch her, hold her, and pull her into our arms and let her know she was the world to us. For the first time in her life we couldn’t help. In hindsight it was better that she struggled and found her footing on her own. “In hindsight” is something I say a lot now.
One year later, with the help of our own therapists, my husband and I live in the yellow zone. It isn’t comfortable but it is safer. We text with our daughter and struggle to overcome the impact of that terrible day. We are learning to forgive ourselves for the situation that led up to the day we moved. We’re learning that nothing we did caused her to do this act. We’re facing things we didn’t see, or catch, or listen to, and showing ourselves grace. We often feel anger, sadness and total despair but we’re learning to balance that with our fierce love, our hope and our determination to support our daughter’s safety.
These days, when things are at their best, we exist in a yellow/green zone. We do things we love to do as a family like walks, talks and big family dinners. We celebrate to support birthdays and holidays and happy times. Our daughter shares what’s happening at school, talks about her friends and the certain someone she’s dating. We laugh and she pokes and jokes with her brothers and sisters. We see how strong and how special she is, and we know how much the world needs her special talents. That’s when we are content, almost thrilled to be in the yellow-green zone. That’s when we can see the green zone clearly and remember how peaceful and calm it was to live there.
But to be clear, all it takes is one out of character text from our girl to send us reeling. When we sense her despair because of a bad grade, or a missed assignment my husband and I immediately move to the yellow/red zone. When we are there we are in a hyper state of vigilance. We look for any sign to confirm our daughter’s wellbeing and we have a constant sense of fear that we’re moving again, without our consent or control, back into the red zone. It’s hard not to panic. It’s hard not to drive to her dorm and sit outside her window and stare at it for signs of lights flickering on and off; to watch shadows through the curtains that might assure us she is okay inside. Sometimes when we text as we wait in the yellow/red zone, we stop breathing until we see the dots and symbols on the phone that tell us she is texting back. We know the red zone is close, dangerous and unsettling, and it plays to our darkest fears. My husband and I talk about the red zone with our own therapists now. With their help we’re trying to see into the shadowy murk that comes with the depression our daughter fights. We can’t see things clearly yet but we are getting a better sense of what a fighter she is.
I don’t know if we’ll ever move back to the green zone. That’s bearable as long as our daughter is safe. I’ve gained the courage now to know each zone has nooks and crannies I must explore to understand. With our therapy, the light is flickering to show us more so we can learn about the darkness we’d never understood before this move. We try and focus on the thankfulness we feel living in the yellow zone as opposed to one zone over. Even if we do have the good fortune to move back to the comfort of the green zone, I’ll never act unaware of this new place and the people in this neighborhood who’ve helped us keep our daughter safe.
We’ve lived here a year and it sometimes feels like forever. But as long as everyone stays strong, I’m content to call this home.
Supporting MHAF Through Art – Betsy Glassie
Betsy Glassie is an artist inspired by nature.
“Beauty in nature is my joy, and I love to seek it out and share it,” she said recently.
“The visual music of leaves in the wind; the flow of a river in its ever changing moods; dramatic light in a landscape; a sparkling field of wildflowers; every season in my garden and flowers posing in a vase,” these all spark Betsy’s imagination and bring her to her canvas.
Her interest began in her early teens, and she majored in art at Catholic University. She studied with Kenneth Noland, who was one of the founders of the Washington Color School inspired by Jackson Pollack and Helen Frankenthaler, artists who created large abstract color field works.
Betsy then studied at the Corcoran for more academic training. Her personal style evolved from these somewhat opposing approaches to art.
“Color is central to my work, and I suppose a kind of intuitive abstract rhythm connects me to my subject which is inspired by nature,” she said.
Along the way, she raised five children, taught children’s art in Fairfax County, and had a studio at the Torpedo Factory. She also owned a gallery for a number of years.
About 30 years ago, Betsy moved to Fredericksburg, and her art has become known and appreciated by all. She has had a studio at Libertytown Arts Workshop since it opened and has done course work with UMW and VCU. But that’s not all. Betsy has also enjoyed a number of art trips to Europe.
“All have been so enriching in art experience and lasting friendships,” she said.
MHAF has been lucky to enjoy donations from area artists. Interestingly, almost all have personal reasons for supporting our organizations. Art, Betsy said, has given her a lifetime of joy, and she has been happy to donate her paintings to MHAF to help raise funds and awareness.
“MHAF is such a wonderful and necessary organization,” she said. “Like most people, I have experienced my own major life crises, among them, the loss of loved ones, and witnessing the pain and chaos untreated addiction and mental illness can bring.”
Betsy captured the focus of our organization in this simple sentence: For a healthy society, mental health should be as accessible as physical health.
We are so grateful for her donations and for filling our homes with beautiful, colorful scenes of nature. For art collectors, a “Betsy Glassie,” is a must.
Town Talk: Mental Health America of Fredericksburg
Jordan Alpert, acting Executive Director and Dianna Flett, Board President, discuss the work of Mental Health America of Fredericksburg in these COVID times. We talk about changes and the way forward.
How Are You Feeling These Days?
We hope that telling our stories will help strengthen our community and give hope to others in similar situations.
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I’ve been feeling disoriented lately. As an introvert, I haven’t found the pandemic as difficult as many people. I am fine being by myself, especially in these cold winter months. Sitting in front of a fire with a hot drink is particularly comforting.
But I am restless, and my anxiety seems worse than usual. I’m beginning to miss my small group gatherings, I am desperate to hug my grandchildren, and I can’t wait to actually walk into a store and go shopping without racing in and out. We’ve been isolating as much as possible— safe but difficult.
I know I am not alone. Even if you’ve continued to work or shop, you may still be feeling the anxiety that comes with this lack of control. Humans are comforted by feeling in control of their lives, and we’re frustrated by the uncertainty these days. Several articles have referred to the term “hitting the pandemic wall” to describe the feeling many of us are experiencing.
What can help? When I see the words “just breathe,” my first thought is “oh, sure.” But I have found that in the moment I CAN stop my heart from racing or my mind from going to those dark places. The best technique for me is to inhale (into your diaphragm, otherwise it can actually increase anxiety), count to three and hold, and then release. Two or three breaths, and I feel better.
Another way I cope is to try to stick to a schedule. My husband and I started walking twice a day, and though I miss on occasion, the routine brings some stability to my life.
Finally, I look for a way to do something kind for others. I might write letters to someone in a senior living facility. They’ve been isolated more than any of us, and receiving a note with kind message might make their day. Baking cookies for first responders is always appreciated and will probably help you feel better, too.
If you’ve tried these things and can’t get beyond the “pandemic wall,” or if you can’t get yourself to try. new strategies, Mental Health America of Fredericksburg has resources available, so please contact us if you need help.
Remember, we are seeing the light. While distribution may seem slow, the vaccines are here. Soon, we will be out and around. But I’ve stopped saying “back to normal.” Learning to cope, accept, and deal with this pandemic will help us build strength and resilience for whatever we face in the future.
“Our new normal is always feeling a little off balance, like trying to stand in a dinghy on rough seas, and not knowing when the storm will pass.” @tarahaelle
But knowing we are not alone matters.
Print Jazz is All About That
If you play chess (or even checkers), you’ll understand artist Pete Morelewicz’s game plan for his art.
“Creating art is a feedback loop,” he said. “I make a move and then the art tells me where to go next.”
Pete is one of many artists who have chosen to support Mental Health America of Fredericksburg with his vibrant art, which enables the organization to continue its programs for the community. He creates pieces with strong graphic geometries. Using bright, solid color fields, he depicts various buildings and landscapes around Fredericksburg such as Carl’s or Kenmore. You’ve seen them on a canvas at LibertyTown, in the window at The Visitor’s Center, and on magnets and notecards around town.
He starts with a pencil sketch, leaving space to adjust. He said he was once given good advice: “When you go from your sketch to your final, be sure to leave room for the jazz.” He liked that concept so much that he uses “jazz” as a design pseudonym: Print Jazz.
Pete’s connection to MHA-fxbg began when he started volunteering in the Senior Visitor program. Through that, he discovered the other services, including the provider resources, which he has shared with others often.
“There’s still a stigma around getting treatment for mental health issues, and the more that we can acknowledge and publicize those who are here to help, the better off we’ll be.”
Pete finds deep satisfaction in seeing his art bring happiness to others. Buying art, he said, speaks to the importance of finding happiness in our everyday lives. He finds great satisfaction in sharing that connection with the buyer.
Pete is donating his latest piece (on display at LibertyTown) to the annual MHA auction. You can also find him on Instagram using the name @PrintJazz or his website.
Like his art, Pete exudes happiness. The community and MHA-fxbg truly benefit from all his fabulous jazz.
To buy a raffle ticket, click here!