Nervous Breakdown

My mom had a nervous breakdown.

I only have spotty recollections of this. I would have been around 7 or 8 years old?   I know there was uncomfortable quiet around it, and after she was ”better” it wasn’t talked about much.  I know all those who could verify and talk to me about this are long gone...mom, dad, Marcie, my grandparents….her sister Lynette who has dementia.  I reached out to her older sister Dar, and she was living in Minnesota at the time, so she knew of it but not much detail.   

So why does it keep popping up in my head?  I put my mom on a loving pedestal...but I see that her wisdom and empathy and compassion were hard won. 

Leading up to this break down time my mom sewed all of our clothes.  Marcie and I had matching everything.  She even sewed us some adorable winter coats.  She made my brother Adam’s Sunday suits and little girls summer outfits.  She sewed all of my Aunt Diane’s groovy-cool outfits for BYU co-ed life.  

Mom made Marcie's dress and mine.    This is 1967.  

Mom made us these Coats

Mom made these dresses and Adam's pants.   She was an amazing seamstress.

Mom was a superwoman. She could do it all.  She was the Ultimate Mother of Zion. She decorated everyone's birthday cake. When we had our school birthday celebrations she always brought cupcakes with perfect icing roses on each cupcake. (Totally pinterest worthy). This was for first graders. Mom hosted all of the parties and looked like a movie star doing it. She did her hair and put her makeup on EVERY day.     

Mom choreographed for multiple theaters, helped with the Singing Mothers and with the Sweet Adelines.  She was ward Relief Society President and worked tirelessly on bazaars for fundraising for churches to be built.  She was the Bishop’s wife and had 5 kids in less than 8 years.   

My dad had time-consuming church callings and was in three bishoprics.  He had his own men’s clothing store in downtown Bountiful and worked many long hours there.  Mom helped him a lot, especially during the holiday season wrapping presents.   I remember having many baby sitters during December, waiting for our parents to come home.  Especially to come home on Christmas Eve so we could go to Grandma and Grandpa Butters' house to play with our cousins. 

Mom was all about perfection.  We had to look just right. Our house had to be just right and She had to appear just right too. Then her world fell apart.   I don’t know exactly what happened.  I was a kid. 

But what I remember is …..  Mom was hospitalized. They put her on valium to make it all better. It didn't. She was a zombie.

She spent many weeks laying in her bed.  In the dark.  In silence.  

We had to be quiet and tiptoe around.  We had to stay in our rooms and play.  Marcie and I spent time creating felt ornaments and a felt Twelve days of Christmas hanging for our mom.  She framed this and hung it proudly in her stairwell throughout her life. 

I remember many babysitters, and going to strange people’s homes (ward members?) to be taken care of.  

I remember my Grandma coming by, it seemed like every afternoon at 4, to take my mom and all of us kids to get a coke and fries at Gil’s drive in.  ( It was in Bountiful on 200 west across from where Smokin Bones BBQ is now.)  Seatbelts weren’t a thing and we all piled in the backseat on top of each other while mom held baby Liz or maybe it was Angela on her lap in the front seat.    We looked forward to this coke and fry break thinking it was all for us kids.  I’m sure it was also a much needed mental health break in my mom’s day.  Grandma was our rescuer.  

Dad sold his store and went into real estate.   

Mom got rid of her sewing machine.  She never sewed another stitch.  It represented her past- perfect  life.   When Marcie and I learned to sew in our JR. High classes, she didn’t help us.  She couldn’t do it. This is the only time she referred to her “dark” days around us.

Mom read a lot of books in the process of her healing and came out the other side of this wiser, more empathetic and compassionate for her self and all those around her.   She fought her way out of perfection into a loving good enough.  She came out of this break-down into a break-through of a better, kinder version of herself.  Sheri 2.0.    

Mom influenced so many people’s lives.  Her family, ward members, theatre people, students, educators, choir members, friends and really anyone who came in contact with her, left uplifted.  This was her gift.  But it’s not one she was born with.  She cultivated this.  She chose it daily.

She went through the dark crucible and came out into the light better for it.  She read a lot of self help books and gave many self love talks and amplified her circle of influence.  

I love this about her.    It’s the struggle that helps us to evolve if we let it.  Mom showed me this again and again.