Yesterday we celebrated my daughter Ellie’s 19th birthday. Per family tradition, we woke up before dawn to hang streamers over the kitchen table and inflate balloons with a squeaky plastic pink pump. We forbid Ellie from entering until the table was set and a platter overflowed with pancakes and scrambled eggs. Then we smiled and sang and hugged her.
Ellie smiled so broadly that her grin seemed to jump off her face. She beamed as she opened birthday gifts, especially a new cookbook to support her baking obsession (she’s trying to master the science of gluten-free baking). She exclaimed over how good the food tasted (which is no small thing, given her eating disorder history). In the evening, she almost fell over in shock when her boyfriend surprised her at our family birthday dinner (for context, they live in different areas and neither of them has a driver’s license, so their ability to hang out is limited). It was an evening of Ellie smiles, Ellie giggles, Ellie hugs, for our family of five. It was joyful.
But the shadow of Ellie’s 16th birthday three years ago still haunts me. Months earlier, Ellie admitted her depression, suicidal tendencies and eating disorder. Soon it became apparent that she needed hospitalization. I remember spending hours making her a birthday video, filled with contributions from thirty family members and friends, hoping it would show her how much we all loved her. Even though we filled her birthday with pedicures, gifts, and the fanciest dinner we’ve ever paid for, none of it could make a dent in her illness. I’ve rarely felt more desperate, angry or terrified than I did as her eating disorder spiraled out of control that week. Since then, every Ellie birthday feels a little nerve-wracking for me.
Last week, I wrote about finding joy as a parent of a teen with mental health issues. I talked about how much we need joy, yet how elusive it can be. It’s especially hard when we are weighed down by heavy emotions like fear and grief, which are common for those of us who love an “Ellie.” Author Brené Brown talks about the vulnerability of joy, because joy reminds us of all we have to lose. She says, “If you’re afraid to lean into good news, wonderful moments, and joy – if you find yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop – you are not alone. It’s called “foreboding joy,” and most of us experience it.”1
But there is hope! Last week, we talked about gratitude journaling, naming affirmation, and tracking progress (all of which is connected to gratitude). I want to offer a few more ideas about finding joy. I’d love to hear your ideas too!
Ways to Find Joy
Connect with the Divine
I believe that spirituality is the greatest source of healing and joy. Whether you believe in God or not, finding a connection to a higher power brings a peace and contentment that is hard to replicate. Agnostic and atheist friends, stay with me! I know this can feel daunting because I was once there. But what I’ve learned in Twelve Step rooms is that, when it comes to recovery, anyone can find their own version of faith to support the healing process. For my agnostic friends, a spiritual connection could look like a breathing meditation, a walk by the river, reading favorite poems, or just an appreciation for the gift of life.
Ironically, having the freedom to explore spirituality helped me to find God after growing up in an agnostic home. At eighteen years old, I followed my curiosity about God and my hunger for a higher power and it led me to embrace Jesus. Today, I have a relationship with God based on unconditional love and grace, which grounds me regardless of whether my daughter is choosing recovery, regardless of my successes or failures. Some of my favorite spiritual practices are “Centering Prayer” (using this app) to calm my anxious brain, singing songs about God’s goodness (here’s a favorite), and praying through the psalms (this one has brought comfort in tough times). I love having the freedom to express myself to God without filters, whether I’m furious or desperately scared, and being able to listen for some kind of response. Sometimes those answers are simply a sense of peace; sometimes it’s a more tangible word or direction; sometimes I don’t hear anything, but I feel a bit of relief.
Whatever our spiritual practices, it helps to believe that the burden of our teens’ healing is not solely on us. In Al-Anon, I often hear people say, “Your daughter has her own higher power, and it’s not you.” Spiritual practices provide perspective when we most need it and they make room for joy.
Go Outside
In our family’s darkest days, I would drop Ellie off at the treatment center and walk around a nearby frozen prairie. It might have been fifteen degrees Fahrenheit, and I walked with scarves wrapped around my face, but it was worth it.
There’s a growing body of research that shows that getting out and into nature lifts our mood, heals our bodies and eases our minds. Being in nature lowers stress, increases immunity, reduces anxiety and more.
“In a study of 20,000 people, a team led by Mathew White of the European Centre for Environment & Human Health at the University of Exeter, found that people who spent two hours a week in green spaces — local parks or other natural environments, either all at once or spaced over several visits — were substantially more likely to report good health and psychological well-being than those who don’t. Two hours was a hard boundary: The study, published last June, showed there were no benefits for people who didn’t meet that threshold. The effects were robust, cutting across different occupations, ethnic groups, people from rich and poor areas, and people with chronic illnesses and disabilities.”2
Some healthcare providers are embracing the back to nature paradigm, by prescribing nature as an antidote, such Park RX America. An organization called Association of Nature and Forest Therapy Guides shows clients how to use immersion in nature for healing. There’s a reason why some parents send their teens to wilderness therapy (two friends have done this with success). The mountains offer their own restoration in ways we cannot access inside brick walls, staring at screens.
What kind of green spaces, parks, forests and bodies of water does your area offer? What types of spaces help you take a deep breath? Everyone is unique. My husband begs for an annual dose of the mountains because that’s what restores him. I never get tired of watching the waves pound the beach. Maybe you love botanic gardens or maybe you like to get lost in the woods. Maybe a quiet half hour on a picnic blanket in a city park, watching people and pigeons, is your jam. Maybe you’re like my mom, who is content on her knees with her hands plunged deep into dirt. Whatever it is, can you give yourself a “prescription” for two hours a week of outdoor time, for your own healing and joy? If your teen needs significant supervision, can you take them with you?
Celebrate with Others
If it takes a village to raise a child, it also takes a village to recover from a mental health condition. Our village also just makes life better. One of my best friends has reflected back to me: “You sound happier when you spend your weekends with people you love.”
When Ellie required full-time supervision for several months, it seemed daunting to connect with my friends. I could barely take a shower. And I’ll be honest: I wasn’t up for certain kinds of friend gatherings. I had no interest in hanging out with moms planning the school fundraiser or strategizing about college readiness when I was just trying to keep Ellie alive. And some friends weren’t up for hearing about how hard our journey was.
But I did have certain friends that I could lean on in the hardest of times. Some were friends in recovery, some were trusted church friends or family members, and one was a fellow mom, Jessie, whose daughter was in PHP with Ellie. They knew how to listen well, empathize often, offer ideas occasionally, and comfort me when I needed it. Sometimes all I could do was text one of them while Ellie was next to me. Sometimes I found a way to call, leave a video message on Marco Polo, or take a walk with one of them. When my husband watched Ellie, I could go to a support group and cry on their shoulders.
In the same way, I need these friends to help me celebrate. It’s almost as if telling someone else makes the good news more real. When Ellie takes an important step forward or when we have a family “win,” I always call a friend. I pick someone who will pause long enough to cheer for us. Celebrating with others brings all of us extra joy, as we holler and rejoice together. It’s our version of throwing a dance party, even if it’s just for five minutes. These friends also offer a helpful perspective, with words like, “You guys have come so far!” or “That’s a huge step forward!” (when I am minimizing our progress) or just a bigger measure of joy than I am carrying, which somehow gives me more permission to smile. The Beatles sang, “With a Little Help From My Friends,” about how friends combat loneliness and provide support. But I think our friends also help us rejoice.
How do you find joy, especially when things are hard as a parent? What’s bringing you joy these days? Would love to hear your experiences.
Until next time…
P.S. I love connecting! If you ever want to connect, you can reach out on Substack’s new direct messaging or just hit reply to this email.
Brené Brown, Atlas of the Heart: Mapping Meaningful Connection and the Language of Human Experience, 2021 - https://brenebrown.com/book/atlas-of-the-heart/
Yale School of the Environment, https://e360.yale.edu/features/ecopsychology-how-immersion-in-nature-benefits-your-health#:~:text=These%20studies%20have%20shown%20that,reduce%20anxiety%2C%20and%20improve%20mood.