Making Changes: No Crystal Stair

I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.

Let’s discuss making changes, why they’re important, and to understand you’re never alone.

It’s easy for anyone to say, “You’re never alone,” but the dark corner in which those of us who face the greatest heartbreak, we feel alone. In order to make changes, we have to understand the path through our depression, anxiety, or other mental health diagnosis isn’t a straight path.

As Langston Hughes wrote in his poem Mother to Son:

" ... Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
  It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor.
Bare." 

Setbacks

For weeks at a time during the past four years, I’ve had long periods when I’d feel content. Since Corrie’s sudden death due to an abdominal tumor, I’ve been triggered mentally, physically, and medically in two major setbacks. One occurred in 2021 when our son, Hayes, became ill with COVID-19, I couldn’t have teletherapy at the time, and I saw myself losing my other child.

This sent me back the day of May 27, 2020 when Corrie went into cardiac arrest. Anytime a setback happens, society so easily judges us with “you should be over that by now,” or “you were doing so well. What happened?” “Life ain’t no crystal stair,” Langston Hughes wrote in the context of a mother speaking to her son.

Setbacks will happen, and sometimes, if we’re not careful in monitoring our physical and mental health, it will throw us knocked out flat on a boxing ring floor.

The second setback occurred in April of this year in a case where untruths were stated, and without going into detail, it took back in time to May 27, 2020, as if it had just happened.

I was written out of work medically for a week after I suffered a panic attack, and encouraged by my therapist and doctor to withdrawal for the remainder of the school year.

I made it.

When I look at myself now, I can pinpoint all of the differences.

1. School’s out and I’m in heaven on the farm. (I enjoy the act of teaching students, but am growing tired of everything happening in education like every teacher in this nation.)
2. Diagnosed with PCOS in March, it seemed as if it might be worse than it actually was, and I received excellent medical news today letting me know that I still have good reason to hope for another child. My doctor gave me so much hope.
3. Three weeks ago, I started a PCOS nutrition plan, and I’ve lost twelve pounds.
4. We’re getting the pool up soon, and John’s working on two bathroom renovations after we had to pause renovations after a tornado, Corrie, and John’s cancer diagnosis and recovery.
5. Those gardens and being in the North Carolina Piedmont and travel to the mountains feel me with peace and joy every time.

You’re Never Alone

While you might lose people in your life in the way of support, you’re never alone. My grandmother used to say, “Don’t make a decision in the dark. Things will look different in the light of day.” I’ve never had the unicorn and ponies view of the world my mom possesses, but I believe–based on the depth of pain and heartbreak I felt–I will do everything in my power to make others feel a little better about their day.

I try to do this with floral arrangements from the farm that my students give to the teachers they love. When I left for the week in April, I had to take time for myself. I couldn’t give to others during a time when I was so damaged. I thought of giving up my job altogether. To make myself laugh, I said, “I’ll just become a trucker.”

It’s that twisted, sarcastic sense of humor which has helped me overcome setbacks, and remind myself, “You’re not alone.”

I started making content on TikTok about the gardens, found support, and hope it also supports others who might be struggling. It opened my mind to what John and I could possibly do with the gardens.

The Next Step

There are new steps for you to take. I’m not defined by the loss of my daughter, nor the time period in which my husband battled cancer. I’m not defined the choices and actions relations of his took. We are not defined by the heartbreak or heat of the moment, but by how our souls endeavor to fly when others would have us fall.

I reminded myself I start my educational doctorate this August. I’m not “stuck.” There are steps and options. We’re looking at ways to expand how we present the gardens, including a new blog I’ll share soon called Corrie’s Acres and Farm Photography.

You’re not stuck either. You’ll find the way, but it won’t be a straight path or a “crystal stair.”

By R.A. Bridges, Corrie’s Mommae