Anxiety

Finding Distractions

~ Kara Mills ~ Leave a comment

My last two years are probably similar to what most people have experienced. Isolation, mental health roller coasters, new hobbies and time wasted on rabbit holes of mindless content online. I realized the other day that I did not write a single post in 2021. Maybe I was hoping that by not posting I could pretend that the evil twin of 2020 never existed. It wasn’t intentional, I do love writing. At one point I felt that sharing the challenges of being a working mom married to someone in medicine was an experience worth writing about. I found it therapeutic and felt that there was so much to say. I was struggling to find the right balance of wanting to grow in my career while supporting the insanely demanding career of a medical student and resident. Oh, and have kids too. Lots of them.

I had last posted that I was changing my perception of things, and to some degree I did. I lowered my bar. I’m not saying that pessimistically. I lowered it for what I felt was an acceptable reason given the current state of the world. For now, we are working on thriving while surviving. I began giving myself more grace. Are the kids healthy? Yup. Are they managing to not fall behind in school? Yup. Do we still have jobs? Yup. Ok, feels pretty successful to me.

Once I got to that point, I shifted to figuring out what I needed to begin thriving. I started with my mental health and focused on the depression and anxiety I’ve had my entire adult life. Instead of just dealing with it, I began speaking with a therapist and focusing on each piece of the puzzle. After that, I realized I needed something for me, a hobby. I love art but I do not have a dedicated space to paint and draw where little hands will not “assist”. Since I didn’t bake sourdough or get a quarantine pet, I decided to take up crocheting. True to my distractible nature, I have a lot of “works in progress” but have managed to finish a few things. Either way, it’s been a great distraction for me and for the most part, the kids leave it alone and I can take it with me when we’re running all over the place.

In addition to crocheting while surviving, I began digging into our ancestry again. Thankfully a few of hubs family members have records, pictures and stories they’ve shared along the way that I’ve been able to use while building out our family tree on ancestry.com. I was able to find pretty solid information several generations back for almost every branch of our family tree which was a fun distraction. I mean, it’s not pretty looking (I keep telling myself I’ll organize it better when I retire), but it’s made for some cool conversations.

Most notably, was learning about my maternal great-grandpa. For as long as I can remember, we never really talked about him, kind of like Bruno. My grandma never really elaborated about her father, and we knew not to push. All we were ever told was that my great-grandma died in a car accident and then he moved away. My grandma did not learn of his death until years later, but with very limited information. The family lore was that he died on an island somewhere. Having grown up in a small town where our entire family was basically born and raised, that sounded so exotic. I figured it had to be Hawaii or some other US island. My grandma, one of the most risk adverse people I knew, had to have gotten that trait from her parents. Right? Surely there are no adventurous genes in this lineage. Boy, we were in for quite a surprise. It began with an email from a previously unknown distant cousin in Scotland. It took the trajectory of our search halfway around the world and as of now has left us with more questions than answers.

If you need a good distraction during this time, join me and my family as we unravel this mystery through coming blog posts. Maybe 2022 will be the year we figure out who my great-grandpa really was.

Recent Events

~ Kara Mills ~ 1 Comment

So, I usually use this blog to write about our crazy lives with lots of kids and residency schedules mixed in with full time work. Today, I feel like the least I can do is talk about recent events that have been happening. I challenge you to read on. With an open mind. Judge me, but wait until the end before doing so. Try to put yourself in others shoes.

Most everyone has heard about what happened to Ahmaud Arbery. He was the 25 year old black man who was murdered while JOGGING. You know one of the few activities we can still do during a pandemic because you can social distance while doing so. Here’s the deal, hubs goes for runs when he’s able. That could have been him. It’s no different, it really isn’t. I mean, he’s older, sure, but he’s a black man. That alone was the grounds they used when they called 9-1-1. “There’s a black male running down the street.”. You can hear the caller say that 15 seconds into the call. That could have been hubs. That could have been one of my sons. What about him being black makes it illegal or threatening? And, IN WHAT WORLD is it okay for a citizen to take matters into their own hands? You call the police and let them handle it. I mean, if someone drives up on me with a gun, I’m running too. If they attempt to fight me, you can believe I’m going to fight back. Especially if I’m out minding my own business. I’m just sayin’.

Here is where it hit home even more. I have anxiety. I have for years. It’s managed, but sure, during this time of pandemic and kids in the house non-stop, it’s worse than normal. I grew up never thinking twice that my dad would make it home fine or that my brother, in all of his shenanigans, would be okay. We shrugged off getting pulled over. It wasn’t a big deal. I woke up earlier this week and hubs was gone. I figured he went running, that’s not unusual for him to do if we’re all still sleeping and he has the day off. All that I could think of is that he was being hunted down by some lunatic who felt they were keeping the area “safe” because they saw a black man running. That is NOT fair.

We have to teach our boys how to talk to officers so that they do not become the next Philando Castile. They are not allowed to ever play with any kind of toy gun outside of our house because I cannot turn off and forget what happened to Tamir Rice. We have had to frequently talk to the boys about how to “behave in public” because we do not know if someone could feel “threatened” and take matters into their own hands like what happened to Trayvon Martin. I could go on and list dozens of other black men who were senselessly murdered because someone decided to fully embrace their racial bias.

It is not fair that wives and mothers have to worry that their family is at risk for doing activities many people take for granted in this country, the “land of the free and home of the brave”. Hubs fought for this country and loves this country, we both do. That is not full freedom if you cannot be outside without worrying that you may be targeted.

If you can change the channel and not think about what’s happening, that is called privilege. It’s a cushy place to be, there are never uncomfortable conversations you have to have with your family. You have the privilege of not having to worry about your family being hurt or killed because it doesn’t impact you directly. This is not to say that “All Lives Matter” is untrue. We’re all part of one human race, of course everyone matters. It’s not only Black Lives Matter. I am saying that for centuries black people were oppressed and treated in a subservient manner. It’s been that way for so long that people justify sickening behavior. For so long WE HAVE GONE ALONG WITH IT. We haven’t challenged it and and asked what if it was my son or husband on that tape getting shot by those two men? Wouldn’t that have been murder in broad daylight? Of course it is! We hear the popular comments, “oh, he must have been doing something” or “if he would have just listened”. Why is it okay for those men who shot Ahmaud to demand he comply? Because they’re white and he’s black? What if it were black men doing that to a white man? Or white men demanding a white man comply? What’s different about those other examples is that the dialog always gives the benefit of the doubt to the victim. In Ahmaud’s case, the benefit of the doubt is given to the murderers.

My opinions may be unpopular or not considered factual to everyone. Your opinion is your own, as is mine. But I can assure you, based on my family experiences, this is our reality. This is what we live. Every day. Pandemic or no pandemic. We have the opportunity to change the narrative so the next generation can focus on working together and being the best they could ever imagine. Doing great things for humanity.  Please, think of those around you and be brave in standing up against traditions and false information. Instead of continuing the cycle of hate, bigotry, and denial.

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