Category Archives: Mental health

Eight tips to be a better parent to your college kid

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Just a little more than a month ago, we packed up kid No. 3 to go to college. For the most part, she’s been loving the new challenges, activities and adventures. But there have been moments when she’s called, her words heavy with frustration or panic. I’m not gonna lie, there have been moments when my responses have been heavy with frustration or panic.

Let’s get real. Freshman year of college is HARD. It’s hard for the student, and it’s hard for the parents. I’m not perfect, y’all. I write this to remind myself, as much as to inform you.

Here are some tips to help your child (and you) get through this year and beyond.

1. Keep the lines of communication open.

yes, I sometimes use text speak. I'm not too proud to stoop to teen communication modes.

yes, I sometimes use text speak. I’m not too proud to stoop to teen communication modes.

If I want to get a positive response out of my kid, I use click bait. This girl loves our hyper German shepherd-border collie and asked me to send her photos. Those always get a response, but don’t expect daily communication. Go ahead and send an encouraging text, but don’t worry if you get no response. Let your child know how often you expect a phone call or Facetime where you can hear the sarcasm in their voice instead of trying to detect it in their texts.
2. Visit campus and make it an event.
Last weekend was “Family Weekend” at Anna’s college. The day we moved her into her dorm, she talked about Family Weekend and how she wanted us to see her university and go to the game. Fast forward to the day it began, and our college girl had plans with friends during the first event (a barbecue dinner and pep rally). Imagine that, she’d rather go out with her new friends instead of spend time with her parents. We insisted that she meet us for the President’s Breakfast the next morning, and she did. We had a nice visit and then she took us on a personal tour of campus. In her defense, we’d seen her several times because she goes to school less than an hour from home. Shawn reminded me that these events are designed to make sure your kid is adjusting to college, and it was obvious she was adjusting.

Go Mean Green!

Go Mean Green!

3. Send a care package.
Box up some of your kid’s favorite treats. If you’re motivated (or have all this new-found time to ponder their absence), get creative and look on Pinterest for ideas. If you don’t have a lot of time, many university groups advertise they will put together a care package and deliver it around special days like Halloween, Valentine’s Day and finals. Nothing says “I love you” like a package of gummy worms.
4. Don’t turn their room into your office, craft room or man cave right away.
You’ll freak them out, trust me. Your assimilation of their space should be gradual or delayed. Even with my Aggie grad, I keep a bed for her in what used to be her room when I turned it into my office. When she’s home, it’s her room. When she’s not, it’s my office.
5. Invest in yourself.
Because you will have more time, resist the urge to mope or fill up the empty spaces with Pinterest or binge watching “Downton Abbey.” Think moderation with social media and entertainment and capture some of those extra minutes to learn a new skill or rediscover an old hobby. Both of those endeavors will boost your mood more than mindless media. I recently taught myself to use a video-making app on my phone for work and made a fall wreath for the first time in over a decade.

Crafted with love, not perfection...

Crafted with love, not perfection…

When I was trapped at home with three small children, I did a lot of crafting. Now I can flex those glue gun and paint brush muscles again. How does that help your child adjust to college? It’s kind of a stretch, but it shows kids that you’re never finished learning and growing. Just being happier with this season of life helps us grow into it. Which leads me to the next point…
6. Let go … but not all the way.
Realize your child will have lots of exciting and stressful events as they move towards independence. Don’t panic when they become anxious over a bad grade or want to change their major. Work on becoming more of a coach and less of a dictator. Your adult child will thank you.
On the balance side, I want to insert a warning to you moms and dads out there. MANY young adults struggle with depression, anxiety and other mental health challenges. According to the National Alliance on Mentall Illness (NAMI), 20 percent of teens will experience some kind of mental health condition; 75 percent of chronic mental illnesses show up by age 24. Suicide is the third leading cause of death for those age 10 to 24. I’m dwelling on this heartbreaking topic because we parents need to know that the potential is there, and we should seek professional help if we suspect our child is struggling with mental health.
7. Expect change and talk about expectations.
Your son or daughter will come home on breaks. You will be glad to see them come. When the break is over, you will be glad to see them go. They will try new fashions, new philosophies, new political points of view. Don’t let this rattle you. Keep calm and laugh on (in private, not in their faces). Most likely, they will push way past the old curfews. Let them know what you expect from them, even if it’s just a text at midnight saying they will be home later. They will forget about pitching in with chores and treat you like the hotel maid service. Ask them to do their fair share. Plan fun times for the family during breaks, but don’t over schedule because they love staying out late with friends and sleeping much of the day away. When they go back, plan fun times with whomever is left at home (or with other friends and family). Have a party without them. You have a life, too, and it’s good for them to know it!
8. Don’t tell your kid, “These are the best years of your life.”
Most of us who went to college have great memories of that time. But we don’t have to think too hard to remember the late night projects, the worries about grades and the anxiety over our future. College is fun and college is hard. Both concepts are true. In the same way, parenting is rewarding and parenting is the hardest job we’ll ever do. What do we do in this new frontier of parenting young adults? This mom prays a lot. I pray they will know God loves them, and they will want to follow Him and discover His amazing plan for their lives. I know God is watching out for them even when I can’t. As Christians, we believe the best is yet to come.

On procrastination, purpose and the miraculous healing of a printer

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A misty morning on our North Plum prairie in Central Kansas.

A misty morning on our North Plum prairie in Central Kansas.

Friday was Sandra’s “Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” and I wanted to run away to Australia.

I won’t give you all the gory details because even if I changed the names to protect the innocent, most of the trouble was caused by that person I see every day in the mirror.
A large percentage of the remaining problems resulted from brokenness. No, I don’t mean that feeling when you realize you can’t make it on your own and would someone up there send some help already (although there may be a bushel of truth in that).

I mean stuff was broken. Broken oven, leaking shower head, a tear in a favorite shirt. And technology rebelled and refused to do my bidding. I was coming up against a deadline to get some important papers signed. How dare my laptop and printer conspire to revolt after I’d put off the task for so long!

Ah! There’s the rub! I procrastinate in many areas of my life, but I can be responsible in others. I can exercise self-control when it comes to paying bills, running several times a week or completing work assignments. On the flip side, I often delay cleaning chores, writing blog posts like this one or tackling difficult projects with indeterminate deadlines.

Why do some jobs get done with minimal will power and others seem to take monumental effort?

My easy-to-complete tasks all have a quick consequence if they don’t get done. I HATE paying late fees, my hyper-energetic dog pesters me to play (or shreds my socks) if she doesn’t get exercise and if I’m not meeting my work commitments, I’m forced into uncomfortable conversations with my boss (who is very understanding when real problems pop up).

The “to-dos” that are “not-dones” are more under my control. If I don’t clean the shower as often as I should, it really just impacts me and my hubby. I drag my feet in posting to my blog because I worry I don’t have anything interesting to say. I avoid big projects with unclear paths.

If I dig a little deeper, I know I procrastinate sometimes out of fear of failure.

Cleaning and organizing do not come easily to me. And I’m often in my daydream world where it’s easy to ignore the clutter and the dirt until it begins to spill out of the closets and attract wildlife. After weeks of neglect, I can spend 48 minutes scrubbing my shower and it still doesn’t look perfect. So why bother? Those are the times I need to remind myself that housework done imperfectly is better than housework not done at all. Spending 24 minutes or 12 minutes or 6 minutes is better than 0 minutes. Clean and de-clutter anyway.

As for the blog, almost every time I write a post, I feel a twinge of anxiety when I hit the button marked “Publish.” Creating makes us vulnerable. What if no one reads this? Or they think it’s a waste of time? What if I run out of things to say? Then I need to remind myself that connecting with others through writing is part of my primary purpose. Why did God give me this dream for my writing? So others will be encouraged. There will be times when my posts are dull. I must wrestle worry and pin it to the mat in the process. Write anyway.

Doubts can paralyze me or prompt me to pray and persevere.

When facing any complex project, I can take a small step forward instead of putting it off. Most of us veteran procrastinators know that just getting started is the hardest part. I say to myself, “progress, not perfection.”

That brings me back to my foul mood the other night, when technology kept me from completing an important part of a big project. I checked the printer, Googled the error message, tried moving the documents to a memory stick and putting that into the printer port. Nothing. I went to bed grumbling about all the broken stuff and all the undone tasks and tried to fall asleep haunted by regrets and recriminations.

When I got up the next morning, I knew I needed to sit down with my Bible, prayer journal and coffee to build positive momentum for my day. Seated in the big leather chair with my KTEH San Jose public television mug, I glimpsed out of the corner of my eye a stack of paper in the printer tray. After I’d gone stomping up the stairs, the problem had inexplicably resolved itself. Yes, there were five more copies of one paper than I needed, but I rejoiced. I could get the signature I needed and move forward.

God was reminding me of his goodness in the midst of all the brokenness (yes, the spiritual kind). Life is hard more often than it is easy. I need to look to the Lord to help me overcome challenges, especially the ones I create for myself.

One of the passages I read Saturday morning was this one:

“By his divine power, God has given us everything we need for living a godly life. We have received all of this by coming to know him, the one who called us to himself by means of his marvelous glory and excellence.” – 2 Peter 1:3

Thank you, Lord, for reminding me that the presence of hardship does not mean the absence or your presence.

 

 

What will get your Olympic effort?

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My first memory of the Olympics was watching Soviet gymnast Olga Korbut, “the darling of Munich,” compete in 1972. I was 7 years old and captivated by her charm and athleticism. A neighbor down the street had a three-foot tall fence that became my balance beam. I’d scamper across it and pose, dreaming of adoring crowds and medals.

Olga Korbut, a star of the 1972 Munich games, cast an Olympic spell over 7-year-old me that continues to this day.

Olga Korbut, a star of the 1972 Munich games, cast an Olympic spell over 7-year-old me that continues to this day.

Having absolutely NO gymnastics skills, poor flexibility, sub-par coordination and a tall, lanky frame with minuscule upper body strength, my chances of becoming an Olympic gymnast were zero. But I never stopped marveling at what those small but mighty athletes could do.

Ever since 1972, I’ve been a fan of the Olympics. From Mary Lou Retton and Florence Griffith-Joyner to Simone Biles and Michael Phelps, I’ve watched in wonder at it all.

Michael Phelps has 28 medals, 23 of them gold! Inconceivable! He says Baltimore Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis, an outspoken Christian, and the book "Purpose Driven Life" helped him get back on track after he was arrested for his second DUI.

Michael Phelps has 28 medals, 23 of them gold! Inconceivable! He says Baltimore Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis, an outspoken Christian, and the book “Purpose Driven Life” saved his life after he was arrested for his second DUI.

This past week I’ve short-changed my sleep and dragged my way through some days with an Olympic hangover.

What does it take to be a successful Olympic athlete? I’d say innate talent, dedication and mental toughness.

No matter how hard I trained, I don’t think I would ever be a gymnast. God didn’t bless me with that kind of frame. The only sport I ever tried where I had some success was running. I briefly held the school record in the 880 (yards, people, because I’m old) at John Marshall Junior High, but it was broken a few years later.

I had enough dedication to run track and cross country in high school, but I didn’t have the drive to become great at it. I didn’t have that single-minded determination and will. That could have been a combination of lacking talent and mental toughness and it was absolutely an absence of sacrificial devotion.

That said, I still lace up my running shoes three days a week and pound pavement. I’m excruciatingly slow compared to the rail-thin, bouncy teen that used to win an occasional track medal in the Wichita City League. When I get a medal in a race now it’s usually because there weren’t that many 50 and older women running. You can outlast the competition in a whole different way!

I find that running brings me a kind of quiet joy. I dislike the treadmill because I’d rather be outside with my crazy running buddy. If I’m in a challenging season, a run will relax the tension in my shoulders or put a bit of the old bounce in my step. A walk can work wonders, too. Now that I’m an older runner, I don’t run daily. Even a short walk will boost my mood. For me, it’s the combination of movement and nature. I also sometimes do a 10-minute exercise video for strength training because I know I’m losing muscle mass and prone to osteoporosis because of my slender frame.

Yep, here she is again. My ever-eager running buddy. She's always good to go!

Yep, here she is again. Elektra, my ever-eager running buddy. She’s always good to go!

Whether you run or walk or cycle or golf, let those Olympic efforts remind you of the responsibility we all have to take care of our bodies. Most of us are not called to be Olympians, but all of us are called to certain roles, some of them only we can do. Managing our health helps us maintain the devotion and mental toughness to continue to do what God created us to do, from caring for kids or parents or spouses to learning at school, building businesses or serving others.

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you have been purchased at a price. Therefore, glorify God in your body.” – 1 Cor. 6:19-20

“Thus I do not run aimlessly; I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing. No, I drive my body and train it, for fear that, after having preached to others, I myself should be disqualified.”  – 1 Cor. 9:26-27

Are you in my club?

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I belong to a huge club with many members, but every one of us would rather be someplace else. We didn’t choose this club. It chose us.

I come from a family deeply scarred by mental illness. My father fought bipolar disorder for decades. He battled what he thought was depression for much of my childhood until a manic break from reality (the first of many) while I was in college divulged the true nature of his disease. His father spent many years in mental hospitals.

Dad and me in our backyard in Wichita.

Dad and me in our backyard in Wichita.

Dad and his dad, Floyd Leon Crider Jr. and Floyd Leon Crider Sr., on the dairy farm near Krum, Texas

Dad and his dad, Floyd Leon Crider Jr. and Floyd Leon Crider Sr., on the dairy farm near Krum, Texas

I’m not excited about writing this post, but I know it needs to be done. Good bloggers connect with their tribe. They take what they’ve experienced and attempt to turn it into lessons to encourage others. The problem with mental illness is that there is still a lot of stigma and ignorance out there. And people don’t enjoy talking about it because it sucks. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t use foul language and “sucks” crosses a line for me (my apologies to my southern mama who raised me to despise cuss words). But there’s something deep within my gut that mourns the havoc mental illness created in my family.

Without thinking long or hard at all, I can recall loved ones with depression, anxiety, OCD, PTSD,  personality disorder, bulimia, addictions… You get the idea. According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), one out of five Americans experience a mental illness. Of those ages 13 to 18, 20 percent have a mental health condition.

In our upper middle class suburb of 43,000 souls here in DFW, two teenagers have taken their own lives in the last month. Of those who die from suicide, 90 percent have an underlying mental illness. Suicide is the tenth leading cause of death in the United States.

People, we need to seek out the mentally ill among us and show them love. We need to support their families. When someone breaks an arm or is diagnosed with cancer, everyone rallies around them. We don’t understand diseases of the mind. They don’t make sense because they are by their essence irrational. We need to rally anyway. We can listen and hug.

Part of showing love is putting ourselves out there as members of this club, both those who have loved a mentally ill person and those who have suffered themselves.

May is mental health month, and I feel the need to make sure others know about my membership in this not-at-all exclusive club. The way to reduce the stigma and ignorance is to be open about our struggles and to encourage those who are open with us.

Want to know more?

Here are a few resources:

  • More information on NAMI and mental health issues: nami.org
  • TED Talks on mental health
  • Kay and Rick Warren, who lost their son to suicide, now champion mental health issues in the church: hope4mentalhealth.com

So who is with me? Are you in my club?