Disrupting the guilt of prioritizing self
Why mental health days matter for kids
I open my computer at the coffee shop this morning while my son played Minecraft next to me. Thursday mornings are a special treat for us while sister is at choir practice before school. I send a few messages and we sip hot chocolate while the fire crackles nearby.
My phone rings and startles me out of my often elusive flow of productivity. My heart clenches when I see it’s my daughter’s school. The nurse answers. “She’s having a panic attack and is here with me. She says it helps to talk to you.” My daughter’s timid voice vibrates my phone speaker as I step away to a quiet corner of the room. “Can you come get me?” she quietly asks. “Of course, we’ll be there soon and we’ll figure out what you need to do next.”
Once the three of us are tucked into our warm van in the school parking lot, I turn to her and ask, “What got your anxiety amped up?”
The story spills out and my inner ten-year-old self vigorously nods somewhere inside me. I shake away my own stuff and focus on the fear and discomfort of my ten-year-old daughter.
“I hear you. I believe you. It sounds like your nervous system freaked out and tried to protect you and that felt super uncomfortable. It also sounds like you’re coming down from that internal chaos and feeling more grounded.”
She nods. I can feel her spirit finding its home again.
I think for a few moments and then look her in the eyes and say, “The way I see it, you have two options. We have 15 minutes until school starts. You can relax here in the car and then start over and move through your school day. Or you can take a mental health day and care for yourself with things that make you feel safe and loved.”
Brother’s eyes tear away from his screen. “Wait, what?”
I smile at him and remind both of them about mental health days. “In this family, as long as academics are going well, you’re welcome to take one day off per quarter for a mental health day. This is a day you get to prioritize your emotional and mental health. You do things that bring you joy and soothe your nervous system. The way we feel in our brains and bodies is really important and we don’t need to wait until we’re hitting rock bottom to take care of ourselves. We want you to learn now at 8 and 10 years old that this really matters.”
I turn to her and ask what she would like to do. “I’d like to have a mental health day.” “You got it,” I calmly respond. She continues, “I know I’ll feel guilty all day that I should be at school. Can I think of it as a sick day? That makes it seem like it’s okay.” I smile and say, “You can think of it that way if you want. As long as you know your invitation today is to interrupt that voice that makes you feel guilty. She’s trying to protect you but this isn’t wrong. It’s one way you love yourself.”
I walk her brother into school and he scampers off to join his friends in line. Hopping back in the car, we maneuver out of the parking lot and head for home.
Tears spring to my eyes and my throat clogs with emotion.
Giving my daughter a mental health day somehow heals another part of my younger self. The part that often felt anxious and didn’t have words for it. The part that pushed it away and powered through. The part that felt guilty and confused for not understanding my early anxiety and how it scared me. The part that felt worthy and loved when I performed well so I could never stop. The part that never let myself off the hook for being imperfect.
Giving people what we needed when we were younger is beautiful.
We arrive home and our dog jumps into my daughter’s arms, surprised to see her home so soon. They snuggle into the couch for reading while I begin my work day. Later she plays with Lego’s, writes a book she’s working on, does some painting, makes a new recipe at lunch, and goes on a walk with me. We talk about our bodies and our brains and our emotions. We pick up her brother from school and life falls back into its’ familiar rhythms. Well, as familiar as the last few days before Christmas vacation can feel.
I don’t know what is truly happening inside my daughter’s being from this experience. But I hope it’s a memory she can draw on later that reminds her it’s okay to care for herself in the ways that make her feel loved. That pushing through when we’re tired and hurting isn’t the best move. That learning to listen to what our body tells us is worth the effort. That disrupting shame and guilt and claiming love and worth is the work of being human. That breaking an expectation we have for ourselves is okay.
Here’s to the work we do to love ourselves, especially when we’re tired and overwhelmed. Let’s love with courage and compassion. Joy and curiosity. We are worth it.