Sick days. They’re something we all get a certain amount of, and something we all take a certain amount of — some more than others. Growing up, I had the blessing of being raised by two teachers — two teachers who got it. While they might not have known at the time that I was struggling with anxiety and depression , they understood that we all just need a break sometimes. My mom used to call it a “mental health day.
In high school, nobody asked where you were after you were absent because your parents called you out sick. In college, nobody asked where you were after an absence because if you didn’t show up, they didn’t care. At work, it’s a whole other ball game. While there’s no requirement for me to tell my boss why I’m taking a sick day, it’s just kind of expected that I’m either physically ill or playing hooky.
So it’s no wonder that just a few days ago, I blew a gasket when my eye doctor couldn’t refill my contact prescription. When I wasn’t included in the faculty golf game . When my landlord wouldn’t pay for my bedroom door . I’m really stressed and anxious that I feel like I have to make both my mom’s family happy and my dad’s family happy, and it’s never possible for both sides to get 100 percent of me.