More Good Days, Together

By Erin Ferrier

Mental Health Awareness Month was last month and the theme is “More Good Days, Together” which encourages us all to reflect on what a “good” day looks like, both for ourselves, and for our communities.

As someone with Complex- PTSD and who has struggled with suicide ideation for decades with much of that time not understanding what was happening, and as a parent with lived experience, addressing mental health issues is very important to me.

Surviving has been prominent in my thoughts for most of my adulthood. Surviving was the driving force to get through the dark days and back out into the light. There were times when I would tell myself to just get through this minute or this hour, step by step, then work on the next minute or the next hour. I kept telling myself to keep breathing.

I learned that I didn’t need to go through this alone. There is support out there.

The journey is different for everyone, but eventually, there will be more good days than bad. You just need to keep breathing.

I wrote a poem in 2015 to express how hard things had become. At the time, I was a single mom working multiple jobs and going to graduate school. I was just trying to make it through each day. As a late-diagnosed autistic person, I learned along with my children how to sooth my nervous system in healthy ways.

Side to Side

I sit here with my eyes closed, unable to speak.
I wrap my arms around myself and rock.
Side to side, I rock, like I used to do to soothe my children when they were small.
Side to side, I rock, trying to soothe myself.
Side to side, I rock, trying not to cry.
Side to side, I rock, trying to envision a warm, comfortable place.
Side to side, I rock, missing the strong arms that once made me feel safe.
Side to side, I rock, my arms wrapped around me are not enough, the tears are coming anyway.
I stop the rocking; I can’t hold it in anymore.
I cover my face, I am falling apart, but no one notices it.
My arms feel heavy, my body is shutting down.
It is just too much, too much emotional, mental, physical, and sensory stress.
My son often asks me, “How do you do all that you do?”
I tell him I don’t know, I just keep going, because I have to.
I just keep moving forward reminding myself that tomorrow is a new day.
Tomorrow I can try again.
Tomorrow … it will be better.
There will be a tomorrow when I will have strong arms wrapped around me again to help me feel safe.
Not the same strong arms of the past, but better arms attached to someone different.
There will be a tomorrow when I can come home and not cry from overload and lack of “spoons”.
I will not have so many jobs or homework to worry about.
But, those tomorrows aren’t here yet.
So, I will sit here with my eyes closed, unable to speak.
I wrap my arms around myself again and rock.
Side to side, I rock, to soothe myself.