Where is My Lasagna: Trusting Enough to Give and Receive Service

Raising my family in a small New England town, I learned that the response to a physical crisis is to cook meals to provide for the family in need.

Lasagna is a favorite, as it is easy to make in big portions and freezes well. I pride myself, like my parents before me, at being self-sufficient. I acknowledge I have been fortunate in life, but there is a little piece of me that used to believe that you make your own luck. It was rare for me to ask for help. And then the universe taught me a lesson.

Our family became unlucky with two teens with significant behavioral health issues. As this struggle has become known, I’ve noticed some changes. We are not invited to many social events; receive fewer holiday cards; hear rumors at school that parents are afraid to have their children come over; and find that acquaintances avoid us in stores.

My own family members patiently listen to me, but often do not know what to say or have never heard of anything like what we are going through. Neighbors tell me that all teens are difficult or that it could be worse.

I found myself frustrated with the stigma of mental illness. If my kids had diabetes instead of anxiety, we would have sympathy, not exclusion. And our freezer would not be completely bare of lasagna.

And then the universe taught me another lesson. A neighbor died suddenly, leaving behind a loving family. Our neighborhood responded. Lasagnas were made and delivered. So much food was made, that the family sent the message out that their freezer was overflowing. I did not know what to do to try to help, so I decided to ask.

At first, there was no response. Then one family member asked me if I knew of any odd jobs around the neighborhood. My garden had become unkempt during our own crisis, so, hesitantly, I offered her a job. Much of the summer, she came to our yard, sat on the ground, listening to headphones, and weeded. We spoke little, but she told me she found the ground soothing and she appreciated having work.

It was not lasagna but it felt better—both that I had asked and that she had trusted me enough to share her answer.

These days, I do not worry much about the acquaintances who turn away. I realize that those that matter most, like me, often do not know what to do to help. I have started to get comfortable with asking. My mother helped me research treatment center options. My brother and his wife came to watch my younger children while my husband and I visited our teen in treatment. Many wonderful friends have walked miles with me—sometimes letting me vent, sometimes walking in silence. My friends from the gym donated money to a suicide prevention charity in my name. The list continues to grow. Empathy and support are out there after all, I just had to learn to ask.

And by the way, my freezer is now full, but not of lasagna. It turns out I prefer burgers and frozen yogurt.

– Samantha Jane

Samantha Jane lives with her co-parent and fabulously interesting children. She seeks magic moments and loves boxing. She is also the founder of a grassroots organization formed by parents, for families, providing information, support and connection.