A Gift for Mom! 🤍

Hey, friend. Do you have a minute to chat? Do you mind if I ask you a question?

Has depression swallowed you alive? You smile on the outside, but feel dead on the inside? Life, and everything in it, has lost its meaning?

It’s OK to not be OK, but it’s not OK to stay there.

Is anxiety running the show lately? You can’t sleep because you can’t stop worrying? You know your concerns aren’t logical, but that doesn’t stop them from consuming your every waking moment?

It’s OK to not be OK, but it’s not OK to stay there.

Are you staggering from loss? Your job, your health, or someone you loved very much has been ripped from your hands? Has your heart been shredded into so many pieces, that you can no longer function? No longer live?

It’s OK to not be OK, but it’s not OK to stay there.

These situations make you feel helpless, hopeless. And it’s tempting to believe the lie that this is your life now, torn up into pieces and thrown in the gutter. But the problem with believing lies, is that your belief gives them life.

Because if you believe that nothing and no one can help you get your anxiety under control, you won’t seek help. What’s the point, right? And if you allow loss to permanently paralyze you, you’ll never be able to walk into the future. And your lack of action will help to ensure that you don’t ever leave that place.

But taking action is easier said than done, isn’t it? When you’re already feeling overwhelmed by life, who wants to add another box to check? Who wants to squeeze in a doctor’s visit or counseling session or weekly support group? You may fear that talking about your anxiety with a professional will only increase your anxiety, that going to another doctor, a different specialist, may result in the diagnosis you were most dreading.

But I’m telling you this: this addition to your schedule is the most important thing right now. Because until something changes, nothing changes. Depression and anxiety don’t normally disappear on their own. And grief can hold onto you for years, haunting you with what ifs and whys until it’s taken not only the future you hoped for, but any future at all.

It’s OK to not be OK, but it’s not OK to stay there.

We cannot expect things to change without doing something differently. We must take that first step, even if it’s the smallest budge, even if all you can do is crawl. It’s not your pace that matters, it’s the direction you’re moving.

Start with your primary care doctor, or a counselor, and allow them to suggest your next step. If that feels too overwhelming, start by sharing with a friend, asking them for support and encouragement to help you take action.

It hurts, I know. Your pain already hurts and talking about it, bringing it to the surface, usually deepens it at first. It’s like you’re breaking open your wounds all over again. 

But you have to get it out. And until you do, it will continue to torment you and call all of your shots. And you deserve better than that. You deserve to call your own shots, to determine your own future.

You may not be able to change the past, but you can certainly change your future. And you can start doing it today. 

This is not how your story ends. It’s not over yet. But in order to leave this place, you have to start walking.

Because it’s OK to not be OK, but it’s not OK to stay there.

You may also like:

I Take This Little White Pill

To the New Mom Hiding Her Anxiety: You Don’t Have to Circle “A”

My Anxiety Makes Me Feel Like I Fail Over and Over Again

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Deb Preston

Deb Preston is an author, editor, amateur gardener, and professional cheese lover. Originally from Iowa, she now lives just outside of San Antonio, Texas with her husband, daughter, and unnecessarily loud beagle. You can find her writing on her website (DebPreston.com), HerViewFromHome.com, or in any of her books. You can also connect with her on Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest.

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

In: Living
birthday balloons

When my dad turned 80, he—and we, by default—celebrated all year. My sister made a fantastic, larger-than-life sign of him posing in front of his friend’s antique car, with beautiful calligraphy that trumpeted, “Cheers to you, celebrating 80 years of life!” The sign welcomed his closest friends and family into a private room at a steakhouse, where we toasted his 80 years—and the grandkids toasted his steady presence in their lives. The sign moved from the swanky steakhouse to the second-floor banister in my parents’ house. When you walked in, it greeted you—a feel-good conversation starter and a reminder to...

Keep Reading

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living
Woman worried with head in lap

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

In: Living
Woman standing in field wearing hat

“You have to accept that you will likely never get the apology you deserve.” When my therapist said those words, I felt everything at once-anger, resentment, heartbreak. It was as if the air had been pulled straight from my lungs. Because accepting that truth meant letting go of something I had been holding onto for a long time: the hope that one day, it would all be acknowledged. My family was deeply wronged. Not in a way that can be brushed off or easily forgotten, but in a way that cut to the core. There were lies wrapped in deception,...

Keep Reading

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

In: Living
Little girl in t-ball outfit

To the little girl with pink flowers on her white shoes and lacy fold-down socks, down and ready, tee ball glove in hand, teeth marks worn into the top. The Pittsburgh Pirates hat from Uncle Dave, a sign of camaraderie. A part of something bigger than herself. A too-long, locally sponsored t-shirt, tied up with a ponytail. Jean shorts and a belt. The type of ordinary only childhood can be. When ordinary is more than enough. No one can tell in this picture that you were scared. That you didn’t feel ready. That behind that tiny-toothed grin you were holding...

Keep Reading

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

In: Living
Woman shopping for jeans

I don’t know about you, but finding a good pair of jeans has always felt like a process to me. These are too tight. Those are too loose. They fit my thighs but bunch at my hips. The dreaded waist gap. Too short—high waters. Too long, and suddenly you can’t find your legs. Before you know it, you’re ordering your fourth pair and eyeing a fifth. A woman on a mission. And still, as I stand there looking in the mirror at everything that doesn’t quite work, I just know there is a perfect pair out there for me. Somewhere....

Keep Reading

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

In: Living
Doctor examines mammogram images

My journey with monitoring benign breast lumps began in July of 2020 when my OB-GYN found a lump. I was sent home with an ultrasound referral. I called immediately after I got home and asked for the soonest appointment at any location. I had a young son, and was absolutely terrified. They got me in at the end of the week. My husband was on vacation that week, and what should have been an enjoyable family time was plagued with worry. At the ultrasound appointment, they saw two small lumps. I was told these were “likely benign” and was given...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living
Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

Farewell To the Bus Stop Moms

In: Friendship
Four women pose in residential street

It seems like just yesterday I was writing a piece about my last baby going off to kindergarten. I poured my heart out into words about how she was going to find her place in the world, and how I was going to find a new sense of belonging. I wrote, “I was able to find a bit of ‘me’ again. She has barely left my side in almost six years, so her absence is still fresh and foreign. But I know her jubilant little self will be just fine. And just like that, she’s on her way. And so...

Keep Reading

May is Maternal Mental Health Month, and So Many Moms Are Quietly Drowning

In: Living
Mother with baby strapped to chest

I’ve given birth to four beautiful boys and lived through four postpartum experiences. Each one has been different, yet there are familiar threads that run through them all. In the first couple of weeks after my first baby was born, I felt carefree…until that bubble was popped. My newborn got sick and was admitted to the PICU at a children’s hospital 30 minutes from our home. At one point, doctors mentioned the possibility of meningitis, but after many tests and a several-day admission, we were sent home. When we were discharged, a doctor left me with these words, “It’s your...

Keep Reading

The Hard Truth about Friendship in Your 40s

In: Friendship
Two people fishing on a dock

No one can really prepare you for how much friendships change in your 40s. We expect life shifts—kids grow, schedules fill, jobs demand more, and aging parents need us in new ways. Time becomes tighter, priorities change, and naturally, friendships have to adjust. That part makes sense, right? But what doesn’t get talked about enough is the quiet, hard shift, the one where it’s not just time or distance creating friendship gaps, but something deeper. What happens when you look around your “table” and realize it no longer feels like a safe place to land? What happens when you start...

Keep Reading