Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Missing Mom: Grief during the holidays December 22, 2022

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The photo of my mom and son which prompted my grief to surface. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 1994)

MY FOREFINGER SLID UP the photo toward her face, circling repeatedly as if I could somehow reach into the image and connect with my mom.

It was Sunday afternoon and I was filing through a stash of old photos given to me by a sibling at a family holiday gathering the day prior. I’d never seen the photo taken nearly 29 years ago of Mom cradling my chunky newborn son on her lap. She was 60 then, younger than I am now. The two would eventually form a special bond, despite the geographical distance. When Caleb headed off to college, he would call his grandma occasionally. She shared about the lengthy conversations and I felt thankful. Those phone calls benefited both of them.

Now here I was sitting at my dining room table, caressing that photo, missing the two of them. Mom died in early January. Caleb will, weather permitting, fly into Minnesota later this week for a short stay. I last saw him in early January, shortly before his grandma passed; he couldn’t return for the funeral.

Sunday marked about a year since my final visit with Mom in her long-term care center. That anniversary date and the photo, along with Randy asking me if I was familiar with the song “The Christmas Shoes” (I was) prompted my emotions to swell into full-blown grief. He found the lyrics for me, then played the song about a young boy buying shoes for his dying mother on Christmas Eve. That did it. The lyrics penned by Eddie Carswell and Leonard Ahlstrom in the song released by NewSong in 2000 moved me to tears.

The gingersnap cookies I baked for Mom in 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2020)

I sobbed, tears gushing down my cheeks. “I miss my mom,” I sputtered, the words emerging as my shoulders heaved in sorrow, my breath ragged. I miss her kindness, her smile, her gentle way. I miss baking gingersnap cookies for her, as I did each Christmas because they were her favorite. I miss hugging her and talking to her, even if she couldn’t respond as her health deteriorated. I miss the essence of her, simply being in her presence. I miss sharing with her about her grandchildren, including that baby boy she cuddled. I miss telling her about the next generation, my two grandchildren. I miss sharing about my latest writing projects. She was always my strongest supporter, happy to hear that I’d had another poem or short story published.

A sampling of the many sympathy cards I received when my mom died in January. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2022)

This will be my first Christmas without Mom. Those firsts can be tough. I recognize that I am not alone, that many of you have lost loved ones, too, within the past year. I’m sorry. Grief often has a way of erupting during the holidays when families come together, memories surface. Time softens the edges of grief, yet never fully erases it. And that’s OK. To grieve is to have loved.

THOUGHTS?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Two friends, loss & resilience December 16, 2022

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Light, beautiful light, breaks through the grey as the sun sets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited & copyrighted file photo December 2017)

I READ A LOT. News. Books. Obituaries. And sometimes something touches me in a way that makes me want to cry at the cruelty of humanity. That happened this week when I read a tribute on an online obituary for a 45-year-old Faribault-born man.

I didn’t know Allen. I have no idea why he died. But he clearly was loved.

Yet, life wasn’t always easy for him, as his friend Rachel notes in her comment. She remembers the times they hung out on her front porch as teens “talking about nothing at all and everything.” I love the wordage of that remembrance. But then Rachel continues. “He always has (d) a smile and a kind word for everyone even though he was made fun (of) as much as I was.”

In that singular sentence, my heart simply broke. I know Rachel, enough to believe her truth. I admire her for writing that truth, not only about herself, but about the friend she says she will always miss.

Why were people mean to Allen and Rachel? And to me? I, too, was picked on as a child and pre-teen, sometimes even as an adult. Decades later the memories of those hurtful words still sting. Rachel’s comment reveals the same.

Yet, despite the teasing, Allen maintained a positive attitude with his always smile and kind words. That says something for his resilience, his ability to overcome, at least outwardly. He had a good friend in Rachel.

As I reflect on this, I follow the lead of these two friends. If you’ve endured meanness, I think you can go two ways—become just like the bullies or choose to be kind and empathetic. Allen, Rachel and I chose kindness. My compassion for those who are picked on/bullied/teased/made fun of, whether as children or adults, runs deep. In this moment of reading Rachel’s thoughts about Allen, my heart simultaneously breaks and swells with gratitude for these two friends who talked about nothing at all and everything.

THOUGHTS?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Why I still mail Christmas cards December 15, 2022

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Christmas cards land in my mailbox from Minnesota and across the country. (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited and copyrighted photo December 2022)

I NEARLY DIDN’T MAIL Christmas cards this year. Not that I didn’t want to send holiday greetings to family and friends. But the cost of cards and postage stamps caused me to pause and seriously consider. If I only mailed two dozen or so cards, this wouldn’t even be a concern. But I send more than 80, maybe even close to 100. I’m not counting. The expenses add up.

When I purchased $60 in postage stamps recently, the postal clerk thanked me for supporting the post office. I shared that my second daughter is a US mail carrier who works incredibly long hours six days a week delivering mail in Madison, Wisconsin. I hold a new appreciation for these hardworking postal employees like my daughter. She walks 10-12 miles a day on her route, starting in the dark of morning and ending in the dark of mid-evening. I figure we all owe these postal workers some grace, especially during the busy holiday season.

But back to those Christmas cards. The actual cards were another reason I nearly scrapped mailing holiday greetings this year. I couldn’t find any at a reasonable price. Like everything else, the cost of cards has skyrocketed from the usual $3 I pay for 24 cards to $6 – $8 for half as many. Eventually I found some discounted at a Big Box retailer, but still at a higher price than I liked.

The thing is, sending and receiving cards is one of my biggest holiday joys. I love reconnecting with people from my past (college roommates, co-workers, extended family, etc) and staying connected to those who are still very much a part of my life. I love opening envelopes to find family photos, cards and letters. I don’t even care any more if the letters are mass-produced. At least I’m getting updates. Occasionally a handwritten letter arrives, rare treasures in today’s world.

Even I send a photo-copied letter, confined to half a page. It’s not that I don’t have more to write. I do. But, again, I’m thinking cost. Ink is expensive. I also realize people are busy and don’t necessarily want to read a two-page recap of 2022. So I hit the highlights in an edited version of my life.

It’s always interesting to see what others write in their holiday letters. I like humor and storytelling. I dislike lengthy lists of accomplishments and travelogues that go on and on. I begin to feel like my life is rather boring and unaccomplished when I read such scripts. That said, it’s OK to include both, just in a balanced way.

All my Christmas cards are in the mail. I finished this holiday task in a full card signing, letter folding, address writing, postage stamp sticking, envelope licking blitz over the weekend. And now I wait for my mailbox to fill with holiday greetings, one of my greatest joys of the season.

TELL ME: Do you mail Christmas cards/letters/photos? Why or why not?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hearing horses’ hooves during the holidays December 9, 2022

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A horse-drawn wagon rounds the corner from a side street onto Central Avenue during Winterfest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

LAST WEEK THURSDAY EVENING, I hurried down the sidewalk in pursuit of horse-drawn wagons along Faribault’s Central Avenue. I hoped to catch a few photos, realizing the challenges of night photography with a moving target and a new-to-me camera.

Those beautiful horses up close. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

I try to be in the moment also, noticing details so I can convey the experience in words. But mostly on this evening I focused on catching up to those horses without falling on occasionally snow-packed and slippery sidewalks. It wasn’t easy. Hurry with caution.

And while I hastened, I felt the cold nipping my exposed fingers. Another hazard of winter photography in Minnesota. I own mittens that flip open to reveal partially-gloved fingers. But on this evening, those were stuffed inside my coat.

The horse-drawn wagon, one of two, giving free rides on a Winterfest evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

In the end, I got some photos. None clear. But I rather like the blurred images, which convey a sense of movement. At one point during the chase, I was nearly slammed into by a man exiting a restaurant. It wasn’t intentional. I was walking close to the building to avoid snow and he happened to exit at the exact time I passed by.

Almost back to the starting point at Buckham Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

The whole chasing-the-horses episode seems a misadventure. I should have prepared better, planned ahead, given myself more time to photograph this Winterfest event before I had to be elsewhere. But I didn’t. I expect many of you are feeling like me, somewhat overwhelmed by all you need to get done during the holidays. Shop. Bake. Write out Christmas cards. Attend holiday events. It’s a lot.

But too often we put this pressure on ourselves. We don’t have to do it all. We can choose to slow down, to hear the clomp of horses’ hooves on pavement, to hear the jingle of bells on harnesses and, yes, even to feel the bite of cold on our fingers.

A banner in downtown Faribault recognizes Winterfest sponsors last week. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

Enjoy a slow-paced December weekend.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Beyond simply Christmas trees December 6, 2022

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A nutcracker ornament nestles in a Christmas Tree at Faribault’s Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

WHENEVER I FEEL DISCOURAGED by disparaging attitudes in my community, I need only shift my focus to change my mindset. So many people in Faribault are doing really good things to help each other in a time when individuals and families are struggling. Never is that more evident than during the holiday season.

Some of the 47 trees edging the sidewalk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

Buckham West, where parks & rec is based, donated a tree (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)
Love this elf tree topper. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

One example of community generosity is currently displayed at Central Park, where 47 decorated Christmas trees line the sidewalk along Second Avenue. These are more than simply trees adding a festive flair to Faribault. These are trees purchased and decorated by non-profits, businesses, service organizations and more through the city Parks and Recreation Department’s Adopt a Tree Program.

In the distance, to the far left is St. Vincent de Paul. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

The city works with local non-profit St. Vincent de Paul, just across the street from the park, to give the trees to families in need. This Thursday, December 8, the trees come down for distribution to those selected to receive this bit of holiday cheer.

The Lion’s Club is a community service focused orgnization. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)
Stars shine light and hope, here in a tree topper. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo Decmeber 2022)
Many local businesses, like Affinity Plus, donated trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

As I view it, these donated trees stretch beyond decorating homes that would otherwise be without Christmas trees. These trees are about giving hope. These trees are about showing care, compassion and love. Both donors and recipients likely experience those feelings. A sense of community connection flourishes.

Sponsors of this tree focus on mental health, specifically suicide prevention and supporting survivors. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

In these assuredly tough economic and divisive times, we need, more than ever, to be there for one another. To see the humanity in each other, to respect one another, to support and care for one another. To connect as a community.

A gnome tops a tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)
Looking at the trees toward the south. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)
The variety of ornaments, including this shiny reindeer, is impressive. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2022)

Only several years into Adopt a Tree, the program is growing with 15 more trees than in 2021. Such generosity of spirit touches me, shows me that the Faribault community cares. For that I feel grateful.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on Alexander Faribault, connecting past & present December 2, 2022

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The home of town founder Alexander Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

ON SATURDAY, THE HOME of Faribault’s founder, Alexander Faribault, opens for its 15th annual Christmas open house. The event features the 1853 house decorated for the holidays in the French-Canadian style. Faribault was of French-Canadian and Dakota descent.

The Faribaults’ dining room set for the holidays during the 2017 Christmas open house. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

To walk through the rooms of this historic home is to feel the presence of the Faribault family, including wife Mary Elizabeth Graham and their children. The Faribaults lived here only a few years before moving to a large brick mansion on the bluffs overlooking the Straight River. With 10 children, I expect they needed more space than the wood-frame house provided.

An overview of Alexander Faribault’s gravesite at Calvary Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2020)

Across town several miles to the west atop a hill overlooking the countryside on the edge of Faribault, the life of Alexander Faribault comes full circle. It is here, in Calvary Cemetery, that this fur trader, this friend of the Dakota, this town founder, this family man, is buried.

A memorial to Alexander Faribault stands at the Calvary Cemetery entrance. The birth date here differs from the one on Faribault’s tombstone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2020)

In April 2020, I visited this cemetery for the first time specifically looking for Faribault’s gravesite. I found it along with a memorial marker honoring him at the graveyard’s entrance.

Memorial marker words up close. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2020)

Race or creed did not color his judgments, the marker states in part. That seems to match what I’ve read about Alexander Faribault. Both his mother and wife were of Dakota heritage, thus he and his children were, too. Alexander, who traded with and befriended the Dakota, later sheltered some of them on his land. Government treaties removed indigenous peoples from their land, including in current-day Faribault. Alexander Faribault served as an interpreter in the signing of regional treaties given his knowledge of the Dakota language and culture. I wonder if he felt conflicted by how the government treated the Dakota.

This sculpture of Alexander Faribault and a Dakota trading partner stands in Faribault’s Heritage Park near the Straight River and site of Faribault’s trading post. Faribault artist Ivan Whillock created this sculpture which sits atop the Bea Duncan Memorial Fountain. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Today, 216 years after Faribault was born on November 28, 1806, an awareness and acknowledgment that indigenous peoples were the first inhabitants of this area is rising. Long before fur traders like Faribault set up trading posts in the region, the Dakota lived here, hunted here, fished here, raised their families here, called this place home.

This shows a portion of an in-ground marker for Alexander Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2020)

When I consider the friendships forged among fur traders and the Dakota, I think of the Faribault community today and those who call this place home. This city truly is a melting pot of cultures and peoples. I celebrate that. Some day I hope we can all, like our town founder, view each other through a clear lens without the filter of race or creed coloring judgment.

A holiday greeting from Alexander Faribault displayed at a past Christmas open house. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

FYI: The Alexander Faribault House Christmas Open House is from 11 am- 3 pm Saturday, December 3, at 12 First Avenue Northeast, Faribault. The event is free and is part of this weekend’s Winterfest celebration in Faribault.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In small ways, we can make a positive difference November 22, 2022

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Photographed several months ago in Pine Island, this scene epitomizes love and care. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

I’VE FELT IN A RATHER reflective mood recently. Perhaps it’s the shift in seasons. Perhaps it’s the approach of Thanksgiving. Perhaps it’s the deep concern I hold for those who are struggling. In reality, all three and more contribute to these present feelings.

November—with shortened daylight, colder temps and a landscape devoid of color—always brings a noticeable change within me. I prefer snuggling under a fleece throw with a good book in the evenings. I feel more cocooned, not as connected. That’s not necessarily negative, just different.

But what doesn’t change is my awareness that these months of family-centered celebrations can be really hard for some. Not everyone will gather with those held dearest. Geographical distance, death, illness and more separate. I, for one, seldom have my entire family together on holidays given distance and work schedules. Yes, that can be tough when others share about all of their loved ones back home. I’ve learned to feel grateful for the family I do see.

A welcoming message spotted in a downtown Faribault business. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)

I’ve found also that focusing on others goes a long way in creating a mindset of care and compassion. A lot of people, at least in my circle, are dealing with a lot right now. Death. Illness. Job loss. Financial struggles. It’s almost overwhelming, the amount of need, the grief, the pain, the trauma.

I can’t fix things, but I can be there in meaningful ways.

This inspiring message on a business in downtown Pine Island uplifted me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

We have this capacity, each of us, to make a difference in this world. Not necessarily on a grand scale. But in small ways that touch individuals in our communities, our families, among our friends and beyond. Something as simple as opening a door for a stranger; mailing an encouraging handwritten note; treating people with kindness and respect; dropping off a gift card or a bag of groceries; calling; and listening can make a big impact on someone.

My mom, Arlene, who died in January, taught me the importance of caring for others. As a mother of six, she always put her children first. Beyond our farmhouse, she did the same within her community, volunteering at church, blood drives, veterans-related groups and with other organizations. She left a legacy of love, faith and compassion.

We can all learn a lot from the Arlenes of this world.

Whenever I’m out and about, I feel especially grateful when witnessing the goodness of people. One of those moments came in early September while in Pine Island. Near the Hardware Hank, I watched two women, presumably mother and daughter, walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalk. I nearly cried at observing such love, care and compassion.

A welcoming message on Just Food Co-op in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)

I celebrate, too, when I see welcoming signs posted at businesses or on homes.

This loving inscription is posted at the State Public School for Dependent and Neglected Children’s Cemetery in Owatonna. The school (orphanage) was open from 1886-1945. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)

Even a message of love imprinted in stone at a cemetery touches me. When I intentionally look for the positive, I see it, hear it, feel it. There truly is more good than bad in this world if we allow the light to break through the grey and outshine the darkness.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Mental illness: Learn. Listen. Link. November 15, 2022

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Slowly we are beginning to unmask mental illness. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2018)

HER VOICE RISES. Strong. Compassionate. Without hesitation.

She is Penny Wilson, published poet, blogger, fiction writer, advocate. Penny, who blogs at Penny Wilson Writes, advocates for those diagnosed with mental illnesses. She is open about her struggles with depression. And it is that honesty which impresses upon me how much, how deeply, Penny cares.

From her fixer-up home in a small Texas town, Penny pens pieces that inform, educate, advocate about mental health. Recently she spent hours researching and compiling a list of resources in a post titled “Affordable Mental Health Counseling.” A friend’s need for affordable therapy (when her benefits were running out) prompted the piece. What Penny found was nothing. No low cost or no cost counseling services for mental health issues. I’m not surprised.

Yet, Penny published that list of 14 possible places to find some sort of help. It’s a start, a good resource list. I encourage you to read that compilation by clicking here.

A particularly powerful book that shows how mental illness ripples, affecting the entire family. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

All of this got me thinking given I, too, write occasionally on the subject of mental illnesses. My goal, like my friend Penny’s, is to increase awareness, educate, advocate. I want to use my writing skills to make a difference. Penny and I recognize that we have this gift, this ability to communicate information in a way that connects and perhaps challenges our readers to learn more, to grow in their compassion and care.

Yes, it starts with each of us, individually. Learning. Listening. Acknowledging that depression, anxiety, bi-polar, post traumatic stress disorder, schizophrenia and any host of mental illnesses are hard and challenging and sometimes/often debilitating. Recognition, understanding and support are vital. Not just in words of encouragement, but in action. Individuals and their families need compassionate care.

This book should be in every church library.

I learned recently that Hosanna Church, just up Interstate 35 north of Faribault in Lakeville (and with campuses also in Northfield, Rosemount and Shakopee), won NAMI Minnesota’s 2022 Faith Community of the Year Award for demonstrating extraordinary work and advocacy on behalf of the National Alliance on Mental Illness Minnesota’s mission. In part, that mission is to champion justice, dignity and respect for all people affected by mental illnesses. To read the full mission statement, click here.

Justice. Dignity. Respect. Pretty basic, yet often overlooked by society, where mental illness still carries stigma.

That a faith community like Hosanna reaches out to individuals with mental illnesses and their families and aims to change public attitudes towards those with mental illnesses shows they care. They get it and they want others to get it, too. They love, listen, act. I appreciate those efforts and I’d like to see more faith communities do the same.

We each hold within us the capacity to learn, listen, link. Learn about mental illnesses. Education goes a long way in reducing stigmas and in understanding. Listen to those who live with mental illnesses (and their families). Ask how they are doing, how you can help and genuinely mean it. Link to them in meaningful ways. Offer help. Connect with professional resources. Be there. It’s that simple. Learn. Listen. Link.

FYI: I encourage you to visit the NAMI website for additional information by clicking here. I also encourage you to visit the “mental health help” page of Penny’s blog at Penny Wilson Writes by clicking here. Also read her recently-posted fictional short story, “Dragons in the Dark,” which offers powerful insights into depression.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

With thoughtful gratitude on Veterans Day November 11, 2022

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A bronze statue titled “Poppie” personalizes the Rock County Veterans Memorial in Luverne as do the names of some 1,600 veterans engraved in pavers. I’ve seen a lot of veterans memorials and this is among the most impressive. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2013)

NEARLY EVERY COMMUNITY has one. A veterans memorial. I appreciate that public recognition of military service in communities from rural to urban. Yet, acknowledgment of our veterans must stretch beyond public memorials.

Today, Veterans Day, I pause to personally thank the individuals who have served our country. That’s important to remember—individual service and sacrifice. I expect most of you can rattle off names of those in your circle who engaged in combat or other military work. They left their homes, their everyday lives, to answer the call of duty.

I feel gratitude to individuals who, either by draft or by choice, stood strong for democracy. Words like courage, commitment, strength, fortitude…filter into my thoughts when I think of our veterans.

But I also think of the physical, emotional and mental challenges too many combat veterans face post-war. I can never comprehend the pain, the trauma, the grief experienced by those who fought in war zones. I only know how my own father, an infantryman in the Korean War, battled the demons of war during his lifetime. That glimpse was enough to elicit deep concern within me.

We are making strides in recognizing and treating post traumatic stress disorder, for example. Not until near his 2003 death was my dad aware of his PTSD. He never got the intervention and help he needed upon arriving home from war. I’m thankful for the help available today, although I expect sometimes it’s not easily-accessible and not nearly enough.

Suicide among veterans remains high. After hearing a few of my dad’s stories of war atrocities and killing, I recognize the emotional and mental tolls on health. Returning to everyday life after experiencing the traumas of war brings challenges civilians will never fully understand. We need to be there for our veterans in ways that matter—support, compassion, care, understanding—with gratitude in our hearts.

TELL ME: If you’re a veteran, what would you like to hear today, Veterans Day? How can we as a country better honor and help you? If you know a veteran, what have you done to honor and help veterans?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Sort of like a broken bone, but not really November 3, 2022

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Look on the lower right side of my wrist to see the surgically-implanted plate, shaped like an ice scraper, and held in place by 10 screws. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2018)

WHEN I BROKE my right shoulder one summer and then a year later shattered my left wrist, I needed physical and occupational therapy. Muscles quickly weakened with my shoulder clamped immobile in a sling and my wrist secured in a splint. After months of in-person therapy and at-home exercises, I regained my strength and use of my shoulder and wrist. I felt grateful for the therapy, which was easily accessible and covered under my insurance (although I ended up paying because of my high deductibles).

I also got lots of encouragement following those bone breaks. Cards. Texts. Emails. Calls. Even some meals delivered. When you’re experiencing a health issue, it’s reassuring to feel the support of others.

Buttons photographed at the Northfield Public Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

But what if your health issue is a mental health issue? Do you have the same access to healthcare? Does your insurance plan offer sufficient coverage? How do friends and family respond?

A post, “Help needed—therapy information please” published a few days ago by Texas blogger Penny Wilson, and my personal interest prompted me to write on this topic. Penny is seeking information on affordable mental health therapy for her friend whose benefits are soon ending. She understands. Penny, too, faced the same problem when she needed therapy and her insurance would cover only three sessions. Three. Sessions. Penny writes, “3 sessions didn’t even begin to scratch the surface. After that, I was on my own to figure out how to pay for it.”

I’d like to think the experiences of Penny and her friend are the exception. But I don’t believe that, not for a second. First, unlike my easy access to therapy for my broken bones, accessing mental healthcare is difficult at best. At least in Minnesota. Waits are long, if psychiatrists and psychologists are even taking new patients. That often leaves individuals in a mental health crisis seeking care in an emergency room. Unless the hospital has an on-call mental health professional, this is not necessarily the best treatment option. But when you can’t access care any other way…

Whether insurance adequately covers mental health treatment and therapy seems debatable. For Penny and her friend, obviously not.

This message refers to the struggles with mental illness. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

And then there’s the topic of personal support. Mostly, it’s lacking. Although we’ve made strides in reducing the stigma of mental illness, we have a long ways to go. Ask anyone who’s experienced a mental health crisis, whether directly or indirectly as a family member, and you will likely not hear stories of tangible support. No meals delivered. No cards sent. No texts. No emails. Primarily silence. There are, of course, exceptions.

Beyond the emotional toll, a mental health crisis can devastate individuals and families financially. Yet, there are no public fundraisers. Again, this traces to the stigma, the lack of understanding, not necessarily a lack of compassion.

Mental illness, in my opinion, is not viewed on the same level as say diabetes or cancer or other debilitating diseases. I’m not taking away from anyone who has dealt with those because they are horrible and awful. But so is a serious mental illness. There are no cures, no single plans of treatment that work for everyone. A med may ease symptoms and then it doesn’t and then it’s start over with a different med. The same for therapy. Imagine the exhaustion and frustration that can set in as individuals struggle to manage anxiety, depression, bipolar and more. It’s a lot.

A mental health-themed sculpture, “Waist Deep,” once stood outside the Northfield Library. This is such a strong visual of reaching for help. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2019)

So what’s the point of this post? The point is to educate and raise awareness. The point is to reduce the stigma of mental illness. The point is to encourage you—if you know someone struggling with mental health—to reach out, acknowledge, support. Act. Support their families, too. Offer words of encouragement. Offer financial support if needed. This is their broken bone.

FYI: The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) is a great resource for information and support. Click here for more information.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling