Catch Up

I have been in the hospital so haven't been able to keep up with my postings or responses. I apologize. I am still "technically" in the hospital, but am out on a pass right now. It feels so good to be at home!!!

This post is going to be a smattering of things I have been doing, information about treatments for depression I have been receiving and results I have experiencing from those treatments. Here goes...

1) ECT (electroconvulsive therapy)...I remember, years ago when I was in university, the student newspaper published an whole issue that was radically anti-electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). Am I ever glad I never listened to all the negative hype and (with trusted support and help) decided for myself whether I would try ECT as a treatment.

I have been receiving unilateral ECT treatments approximately 3X/week for 3 weeks. The X-mas holidays made it a bit mixed up. For the past couple weeks I have had ECT treatments once a week. I said in the previous post my increase in mood has been nothing short of miraculous. I was so severely depressed a couple weeks ago, and throughout most of the past 17 plus years( ...actually I had MDE's even before that, but the worst ones and this past 10 year plus treatment resistant MDE, have occurred in the past two decades).

Yesterday and the day before my mood was so intensely high I felt like I was in heaven. My self had come back!!! I was bubbly, effusive, effervescent, talkative, extremely outgoing, energetic, so happy I cannot even describe it. I felt like I was glowing, beautiful, and I felt extremely sexy and sexual. This is how I feel when I feel well. I think the intensity feels so strong because feeling good for me has been so hard to achieve, and suddenly all my bad feelings and thoughts were gone.

Unfortunately, my mood began to crash last night, but nowhere near as low/bad as it was before. It definitely is low though...which is upsetting, as I have seen this kind of cycling mood before, where I become my high self for a few days, only to crash and burn a few days later.

I am hoping this crash is temporary, and caused by my not sleeping the other night. I slept last night, and hopefully will sleep again tonight, and maybe that will help lift my mood again.

2) I don't even want to write this, but I will...I wonder if I have been hypomanic the past couple days. I really did not think so, until my boyfriend and I started discussing my behaviour and he told me I was being really pushy about sex. Until he said that I just felt like me and my "true" high sex drive had returned.

I know I have a much higher libido than many women...even when severely depressed, if sex is initiated by someone else I almost always am happy to participate...though I have difficulty initiating when depressed). I was feeling extremely sexual last night, and I can see how my boyfriend might have felt a bit overwhelmed by my advances, as he was not feeling very well.

He told me that sometimes when I am "high" I get really demanding and pushy. I have received this feedback from other people before, that sometimes I am so "ramped up" and "on", and when I am I sometimes demand the same level of energy and competence from others. I have seen this in myself too. I can tone it down, but unless I constantly pay attention to my behaviour I tend to slip right back into high energy mode.

Problem is...I think this behaviour is my personality...not my mood. Many members in my family have this same personality...super on all the time, constantly busy and always doing many things at the same time. My Dad is like this, as are both my sisters. I am a bit more outgoing, talkative, and effusive than them, but my paternal grandmother was EXACTLY like me, right down to being easily annoyed by anyone who couldn't keep up with her.

I am not saying that I am proud of my negative behaviour, but unfortunately I think my pushiness is tied to my "high" personality. In my defense...unlike my Grandma...who could really hurt others feelings with her insensitivity, I am really sensitive myself and knowing how easy it is to feel hurt by someone else, I try really, really hard to not hurt others, or effect them in a negative way. While sometimes I do make mistakes, or forget to hold back; I work hard to be as thoughtful, and aware of how by behaviour affects others as I possibly can.

There is more to write, but I need a break...I will continue to write again soon. Take care everyone.

P.S. Thank you so much to all the friends, readers, and health care professionals who have helped me throughout my depression. Of course, an especially big thank you goes out to Dr. K. (my psychiatrist). I would not be here without him. He is one of the most caring, knowledgeable and consistently supportive doctors and people I have ever had the pleasure to work with. Thank you so much for never giving up on me.

Caged

(Thoughts like this post are partly why I stopped writing for a while...yeah I didn't have the internet at home, but I also couldn't find the energy to make the effort to get outside my home and make my way to the library only a few short blocks from my house, to rant about my depression, anger and inability to get well. I don't know if my continued diatribe about my depression is helpful to anyone, myself included.)

I'm cranky, irritable and at times am feeling a rage swelling inside me. The anger is mostly focused at myself and my inability to manage to help myself get better...either by somehow influencing a/any medicine to work, and by doing the things I keep being told to do in order to get well...for example:

• eat well,
• get some decent, cardio exercise...other than dragging my sorry slow ass for a painfully slow walk with the dog...(painful for me, because even slow seems completely exhausting...and painful for the dog because all he wants to do is run.)
• sit under my lightbox
• challenge my thoughts
• read
• get my sleep schedule/wake schedule the same everyday
• don't eat sugar, so many carbs, eat more veggies
• take my vitamins

...yadda, yadda, yadda.

I feel like screaming I am so angry with myself for not being able to, or willing to, or trying to, or whatever the hell it is...do something to save myself.

I feel enraged also, by all the "helpful" ideas in psychiatry/psychology that seem to presuppose some magic energy resource or will, or that the ability to motivate oneself exists in me, and people like me.

Maybe it's true...like I think sometimes...that I am the only one who fails to get better, 0ver and over and over again Otherwise, why do people always tell me to do things that I can't seem to do because I'm to exhausted/amotivated to do them....because I have an illness that exhausts, overwhelms, and robs me of all your desire, ability, and motivation to actually DO SOMETHING to help myself.

If others with this illness have these same difficulties why the hell do doctors and therapists and studies, and papers and books and friends and family keep telling me to do all the things I feel unable to do?

Am I crazy, 0r does this sound as crazy as a hockey coach screaming at a tiny kid; who knows how to walk and run pretty well, but who has never been on the ice, or in skates, to speed skate, intuitively know how to handle the puck and get a goal when they aren't even able to skate yet; or like a doctor telling a person with no legs to just walk around the block a few times a day and they will feel better; or like telling Cinderella to go find a prince to marry when she is so busy trying to clean up after, and appease her evil siblings' and stepmother's demands, and to even just protect herself, that she doesn't even know a world outside her abusive existence exists.

SURPRISE! I am really depressed right now. I feel overwhelmed with life, and once again underwhelmed by my depression treatment plan. I am pretty sure that even if something helps it will only help a bit, or for a while, or it, like everything else I've tried will simply stop working. I am pretty sure I have lost my old life; my old me.

It's not acceptance I am feeling...but an internal rage at losing what I valued so much...my joie de vive, my adventurousness, my wildness, my positive outlook (yes, I did say that...I used to have a pretty bubbly positive outlook about the awesomeness of life)...and my lust for life.

I do not want to live if it means living without those things. I don't want to continue taking medication, continue psychiatric treatment, continue existing, if it means I have to accept the dullness, ineptness, anxiousness, sadness, fatigue, blah, blah, blah my life has become.

My Mom used to tell me I would get better when I accepted I had an illness. I think I accept I have an illness. I just don't want it anymore and I feel completely helpless, and hopeless, that I will ever be able to stop my symptoms.

...it was intensely difficult to write the word "helpless" in that last paragraph. I feel like I have fought so hard to try to help myself, but nothing ever works, nothing I do ever changes how I feel for any length of time...Maybe it's time to give up trying. It is this intense feeling of helplessness that enrages me. I feel like a caged wild animal. Caging an animal just isn't right. Wildness tamed is just a captive. No thing, no being, wants to live as a captive.

Health or Safety?

So much has been happening in my life. I went to see my husband (J). The entire night before I was torn. I did not know what to do. Should I return to him as he had requested the previous day?, or should I move onto a different life?

Being with someone for 18 years creates an intense connection and "safeness", even if things are not the way you want or need them to be. I kept looking at my new friend (I) and thinking how do I know this is what I want? How do I know I want to start a new life? How do I know J will be okay? He sounded so sad, desperate and broken when I spoke with him. After 18 years I feel an obligation to help J be okay through all this.

I phoned my stepmom and talked with her about what I should do. Without telling me what to do she asked me: "Do you want to be safe, or do you want to be healthy?"

It struck me deeply. My marriage has been very difficult the past few years. My husband has been drinking a large amount everyday. I feel he is constantly mad at me. I feel I have to be someone other than myself around him. I feel constantly criticized around him. I feel so lonely when I am with him, more lonely than when I am alone.

I started to imagine what my life 10, 20, 30 years from now. I saw myself back with J still feeling disconnected, alone, dismissed, criticized. I saw myself still extremely depressed. I envisioned what it would be like to be sad the rest of my life.

I knew my health had to come before safety. Sure I do not know what my life will be like without J, but I know what it has been like with him. It hasn't always been that way, but it has for a long time. I have tried to make it better, but it never changes. I do not want the rest of my life to be that way.

I told J that I needed to be by myself. I asked if he wanted to go to counselling. He said no. I still would go if it would help him and he wanted to, but I do not believe he will ever want to see a marriage counsellor.

I am sad that we could not make it work. I am sad for J. I am sorry I did what I did. I am, however, glad I had the power to protect myself and not go home. It would have been the safe thing to do, but not the best thing for my mental well being.

Yesterday morning a disheveled man, speaking strange words and chattering to himself, approached me. He came right up to me, touched my arm and said, "Don't worry. Everything is going to be all right". I looked at him and said, "Thank god, because everything has been pretty bad lately". He looked at me like he had known that all along.

It is so Difficult Most of the Time

Two incredible bloggers, Lola, from "Marine Snow" , and Hannah, from "Becoming Hannah" posted a comment on my post titled, "Benevolent Structure".

Hannah's blog reflects upon her struggles with Borderline Personality Disorder, and Lola writes about her challenges living with an eating disorder; both work through the blackness of depression on a regular basis. I feel so much in common with both these bloggers. There comments reverberated a common difficulty I am sure many people with mental illnesses encounter: Motivation difficulties.

Hannah writes that with the people around to encourage her to create she creates. Home alone, with all the tools, materials etc. to create she has a difficult time getting going. In her words: "I need someone to nudge me along otherwise I scrabble back under the duvet and curse myself.".

Lola's comment is different, but I think is a similar problem. She writes that the more she stays in bed, the more she wants to, and does, stay in bed. She writes, "If I don't get up with a purpose on a Saturday then i spend all weekend in bed moping, sort of like this weekend. Trouble is I am so exhausted by a Friday, that the only thing which gets me through is the thought of a lie in on the Saturday!!!"

I relate so much to both comments it is frightening. I have pretty much stayed in bed since Friday at 4:30, only getting up to walk the dog, blog and go to a Flamenco show I had committed to seeing on Saturday Night. Like Hannah, I need a pull, a tug, a commitment to get going...that's okay, many people who are well need that too.

Like Lola's experiences...the more I slept, the more I NEEDED to sleep. In fact right now I want so badly to crawl back into bed. I have already given up trying to paint this morning (I managed for about 15 minutes and simply couldn't do it)

To top it all off last night at the Flamenco show I had huge problems with "disappearing" and "disconnecting" at the Flamenco show last night. I found myself unable to talk, or feel like I belonged during the wine and cheese reception afterwards, and during the show I kept dissociating.

However...had I not gone to the show I would have missed two of the most incredible Flamenco dances I have ever seen. Both were by the same dancer and I have NEVER seen so much passion in flamenco before. It is always passionate, sensual and outright sexual, but this dancer had the ability to drag me out of my dissociative state, to hold my interest.

I felt her dancing inside my body, in the way your body reacts to a sexual come on, or enticement. It was amazingly erotic. The only way I got out last night was by making a commitment to a friend to go. I would have missed two stunning dances, and would not have known of this dancer had I not known. I discovered she dances at different venues around the city...now I have something I enjoyed that I can experience again.

Sleep is a narcotic. It pulls you in and holds you hostage. The more sleep I get the more I want to sleep. Depression is like a drug too. The more you succumb to its power, the more you stop doing things because you don't have the motivation, or the energy, or the will, the more power depression gains on you. It is so difficult. It is not easy. It requires external help to both create and participate in a benevolent schedule of activities.

1. For me that external help is a little caring "pressure" from Dr. X...a few questions about what I am doing next week, a soft commitment to do them, and a desire to please him, is in part what keeps me mostly on track.
2. Commitments with friends to visit, to do activities, and sometimes a gentle competition between us to do the things we want to do, helps me too.
3. Commitments to others (like volunteering to teach art) keeps me getting out of bed, even if I don't want to.
4. A commitment and love for my dog gets me outside at least a few times a day, rain or shine

...and you get the picture. This benevolent structure only happens if I have a caring structure in place to get me moving, to get me out of bed, to make me want to be actively participating in my life. ...and no it isn't easy. It sucks sometimes and it is always hard work. I do however believe in the long run it will pay off for me.

Benevolent Structure

Over at Dr. Shock's Blog he has posted a blog about depression and art. With the post he has posted two paintings Klaas Koopmans painted of his fellow patients when Koopmans was in the hospital. They are beautiful.

Here are a couple drawings I did while in the hospital. My roommate, who I adored, had amaranthus on here beside table...it was stunning, so I drew it. Then I drew the part of my hospital room that I found myself staring vacantly at while I was there.

When I went into the hospital for ECT in 2004 I brought my drawing board, paper and pencils with me. Drawing helped me break away from the fear I felt about receiving ECT, but it was also a really positive way to pass the time during a very dark period of my life.

(note...an aside): ECT and my hospital stay was a positive experience for me. I read up about it and felt confident, and feel confident, that it is a safe and often effective treatment for major depression. There was however, some kind of primal fear about being put to sleep and trusting and allowing a stranger to do something physical to your brain. My fears were unfounded as the only negative side effect I was left with is crumby spelling (I used to have impeccable spelling...now it is really bad...though this could be medication induced and/or caused by my decline in reading since being depressed. It did however, seem directly associated with ECT..There is always spell check, so not really a big deal.
It is taking me a really long time to learn one of the most important lessons I can learn:

Plan to participate in positive activities in my life, even when, and especially when, I am depressed .

It is extremely difficult given how, when depressed, I have so much fatigue and a desire to do nothing but sleep. In the end though planned activities like volunteering, painting, drawing, and singing work to help me in a few ways:

1. The planned activities create a "benevolent structure" (Dr. X's term) This benevolent structure creates an external "pull" towards my continuing to do things to help myself, even when my mood drops.
2. The plan replicates some form of structure, which emulates a sort of "work". I really need structure to get out of bed. I do more if I have a set plan to do things.

3. While it may not seem like doing things is helping, maybe while doing things I feel overwhelmed, overbooked or just plain tired, but...I know doing things keeps me at least more on track than if I avoid everything and sleep.

4. Scheduling and doing planned activities "forces me" to actually do something. I don't mean really forces, I mean creates a sense of responsibility to myself and others that acts as a motivation for my doing, rather than only thinking about doing. The latter only creates guilt.

5. "I don't want to, or I'm too tired to, (go, paint, participate, see anyone etc.) usually means "I am too depressed to"...if I am thinking these thoughts it is extremely important for me to challenge them.

I Am a Song

Nina Simone, Love Me or Leave Me

If I were a a song (the music, as opposed to the words) right now...this is it.

That constant beat in the background and the flitty scales and the constant steady, speediness of the music, but also some of its airiness and lightness capture me perfectly.

Not sleeping...at all. Can't get to sleep for hours. Then when I fall asleep I am waking 15-20 minutes later and struggling to get back to sleep again. Rarely have I been sleeping more than an hour at a time.

I'd say my mood is up, insofar as I have more energy and feel intense desire to do things (not actually do them yet...but at least I want to). Unfortunately there is a measure of agitation, restlessness or speediness to how I am feeling. This is creating some mood lability in me.

I am frustrated with myself in terms of how I am struggling to "activate". I have to stop THINKING about what to do and JUST DO IT! Therapy is not going to help me if I don't actually do the things Dr. X and I discuss and decide upon. I need to take responsibility and will myself into action. I feel like I am wasting Dr. X's time by showing up and then not doing the work required to help myself.

Things I want to do...and WILL do in the very near future:
1) Singing lessons (I am starting today....Yay!!!! (a bit scared, but excited too). I love to sing. My husband got me lessons for Christmas...best gift he ever got me!
2) Piano lessons. My whole life I have wanted to learn to play the piano. I have time now. I should just do it. Take lessons, practice, learn.
3) Swim or Exercise at the gym everyday....in the early morning.
4) Take an art class (I start one next week...a mixed media class)
5) Paint, paint, paint...draw, draw, draw.
6) Memorize some poetry

For some reason I see these things as "icing" and getting back to work as "cake". It feels indulgent and selfish, almost gluttinous and greedy, to do these things I like to do, when I should be doing what I am supposed to do. I feel like I should be spending more time contributing to society, not just doing everything I want to do. Does that make any sense?

Letting Go

I think I had one of the best, most relaxing Christmases I have had in years. Part of it was due to all the snow. I could not get out of my driveway so did not attempt to go anywhere, and something about the snow adds some levity to my life.

I laughed so many times watching my puppy try to run, plow, bounce and leap through the deep snow. He was hilarious. Were it not for his red Christmas coat (I NEVER thought I'd be one to put a coat on my dog....seems so humiliating for the dog?), but if he didn't have the coat he would have become one with the snow: a white dog melting into a white background.

At least with his red coat on I could see him every few minutes as he raced between the blueberry bushes chasing all the birds. Boing, red, boing, red a few seconds later across the field, boing a flash of red at the far end of the field...15 minutes later I fell to the ground in exasperation, after having whistled and called him to "come" a zillion times...I'm his best friend until he spots a bird, then off through the field he goes; completely unaware of my call.

As I fell to the ground and was emerged in 2.5 feet of snow, he spotted my red glove. By the time I finished making a snow angel...(that felt so fun...I haven't done that in years) Skookum was at my side trying to save me from being swallowed up by the snow. It's funny how dogs seem to come as soon as you give up trying to find them.

I remember, a few years ago, Dr. X. explaining to me how trying too hard is a pattern I repeat. I turn up the volume and try harder and harder to get well. With the increased struggle to get well comes the increased anxiety to "perform". I sometimes put so much pressure on myself to get well that it backfires.

I know that when I first left work I absolutely could not relax. I'd be exhausted and try to take a nap, but my mind would race with all the things I could be doing to help myself, rather than nap and I'd lay awake stressing about not being able to get to sleep. It would get worse, and worse and of course I wouldn't be able to sleep, no matter how tired I was.

I am going off my medications and decided rather than go off Tegretol as agreed with Dr. X, that it was more important to get off Valium NOW. So I went from 20mgs to 0mgs in 4 days. Yikes, it has been an insomniacs worst nightmare, but I am trying to just let go and if I can't sleep, not get all worked up over it. I am crabby and cranky and anxious, but I feel my mood has gone up (maybe from sleep deprivation).

Maybe happiness and getting rid of depression is like that. Maybe if I stop trying so hard to find a solution, stop trying so hard to get well and accept my situation, or maybe if I "forget" about the depression, maybe it will disappear? Hmmm.

Think I will go out and make a snowman...I haven't done that in years either.

Merry Christmas

I had the best pdoc appointment on Tuesday. It was a session of sharing and caring, of experiencing and being in the moment. Yesterday's session felt like the essence of what I wish Christmas could be for everyone.

I am not a "Grinch, but I do not care for what Christmas has become. I am sickened by Christmas's increasingly obnoxious focus on consumerism and how much the gap between the rich and poor, both between people in our well off countries and between our wealthy countries and other entire nations throughout the world. It saddens me to watch so many people struggle when I believe there is enough for everyone if we would open our minds and hearts and learn to share.

While I was raised Anglican, I would not call myself religious. I do however, believe that most religions, Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism, Aboriginal and First Nations Spirituality and the many and beautifully diverse spiritual beliefs people hold can each be strong building blocks for a great world if people listened to the messages the prophets, the gods, the earth and the writings of each religion are trying to teach us.

Every single one of these religions attempt to teach us of love and understanding, caring for others and giving, teaching compassion and forgiveness. They help us remember our traditions and our families. They all engage us in something bigger than ourselves, a collective consciousness of sorts.

My belief is that the essence of most religions, no matter how, on the surface, they look completely disparate, or incompatible, are in their essence teaching humankind the same sorts of values. We are to love and care for one another, Do no harm to anyone and beyond that they tell us we have an objective to make the lives of all the people and beings, whose live's paths we cross throughout our lifetime, better for having met us.

As a bare minimum this objective exhorts us to harm no one. At its best the objectives of all religions endorse the the platinum rule: "First do no harm and then do unto others as they would have done unto them". This means opening our eyes and arms to others beliefs and values. It means recognizing that what we want is not always what someone else may want or need.

Deep in my heart, despite my depression and negativity, I am an idealist. I want so badly to believe we can all make this world a better place for ourselves and others.

The following is a list of people, beings, experiences, places and things that have made my life better for having been blessed with the gift of crossing, or continuing to cross their paths (in no particular order):

1. My Mom. I am blessed to have experienced her complete and unconditional love. To me, my mom was a goddess personified. She was so loving, kind, caring, passionate, available, hopeful, helpful, trustworthy, honest and compassionate. It is impossible for me to imagine anyone having had a better Mom. I miss her so much.
2. My sisters, both of them. They are both like my Mom in so many ways. Our love for each other is unbreakable. They are both beautiful examples of what it is to be a good person: to their children, to me and to their friends and even to people they do not know. I love them and their children more than I love anything in this world.
3. My four nieces: S, J, J an A. From 5 years old to 10 years old, they all are incredible examples of children at their best. They are loving and caring towards me, their families and friends. All of them understand the importance of giving to people they do not even know. They each understand the principles of compassion and sharing. They are adorable little girls who have made my life much, much better than it would be without them.
4. My appointments with Dr. X. and the man himself. I often feel this blog is a testimony to how much he means to me. He is so kind and thoughtful that he feels like a family members to me. He has enhanced my life in so many ways it is impossible to list them all. I know I have said this before, but it needs to be said again: He has been the one person in my life I can be entirely open with. He is the person in my life that helps me continue to choose to life over death, despite my depression and anxiety. He even takes it further than that. I both choose life and my life becomes more and more enriched through each of my experiences in therapy with him. He is engaging and easy to talk with. I am blessed to have him as a psychiatrist.
5. My husband...While we have some difficulties in our marriage...(who doesn't?) I love him and he loves me. There is a great deal of caring that goes on in the relationship. He is a caring, loving man. He just has a difficult time expressing it.
6. My friend H. She has been my friend since I was 19. I love and value her with all my heart. We do not always agree, but that would be boring. I love her more than the differences could ever divide us. She is intelligent, artistic, creative, caring and a great friend. She really makes a difference in my life. I love you H.
7. My friends V and R. I met both in a Group therapy program years ago and I feel close to them even if I have not seen them for a long period of time. It is easy to meet with them and just begin from where we left off. Beautiful people.
8. My friend E. She is so thoughtful, kind, artistic, interesting and very thoughtful. We are helping each other in practical ways, like her helping me go grocery shopping, and me phoning to wake her up. Her help and her friendship are and have been priceless.
9. Each of the people who read my blog, whether you comment or not. The commenters engage me, support me and help me move farther forward with each comment. Both commenter's, and the people who silently read, provide me with a sense of purpose and meaning in my life. I hope my writings reach others. I sense from the repeat visitors that there are others out there who I share experiences with. I hope we are helping each other learn we are not alone.
10. My puppy...his love and companionship have enhanced my life significantly. He MAKES me get outside a few times a day. My desire to care for and love him provides me with a sense of meaning and purpose. He makes me laugh, even when all I want to do is cry. He is adorable, cuddly, loving and best of all he loves me absolutely unconditionally.
11. The ocean...It calms me to walk by the ocean. My husband just bought a boat, so soon we can be ON the ocean. I can't wait.
12. My new car. It is reliable, great on gas and I love driving it. It has taken a lot of stress out of my life knowing I have a reliable and enjoyable means of transportation.
13. Living on a farm...It is so close to the city, but is also away from the cacophony of the city. It is peaceful to walk through the fields
14. Learning to paint. Wow. I cannot believe I have an artist inside me. I never in a million years would have thought I could paint, or draw. Both calm me and I feel a sense of purpose and meaning in the activities.
15. Teaching drawing, printmaking and some of the other classes I teach at the Art clubhouse. I am learning to believe all is not lost to my illness. I have talents and skills that are transferable from my previous job. While I stress out every time I have to teach, each time is a little less difficult. I hope one day I can believe in myself enough, and be well enough, to take what I learn from teaching and make it a job.
16. The people whose blogs I read: (see my blog's front page for a full list) Off the top of my head: My pdoc's blog...it is so interesting and helpful...I feel a connection is always there because the blog is available 24/7 , Dr. Shock, Jcat, Polar Bear, Lola, Sara, SV, Deepblue, James (AKA HBW), Jazz, Tamara, Hannah, The last Psychiatrist, Postsecret, Dr. Jest... the list goes on...Each of your blogs, ideas and writings enhance my life each time I read them.
17. My friends at the ART Clubhouse. The people I have met through their are so great. It is a powerful type of therapy to watch people who are having the same level, or more difficulties than me, succeed and be such great teachers, mentors and artists.
18. My country and the freedom, democracy and protection it provides me. I believe I live in a great country. Not perfect, there are lots of things that could be better, but most of us have a pretty good experience in this country. The one thing I would like to see get better is ease of accessibility to both physical and mental health care, not just the people to help, but the means for an patient to figure out how to get help, to understand what is available for them and a more easily dealt with bureaucracy.

Merry Christmas to everyone in the world. My Merry Christmas message embraces all people, of all religions and cultures, all beings, all plants, the entire earth and the universe.

"I Am Bold..."

When I first left work I started exercising everyday for almost two years. You may suspect, by my online name that swimming is a favourite activity of mine. The second I get into the water I become free. I relax. I feel coordinated and at ease in my body.

The water feels more like home than anything on land. I have been like this since I was a child. I love swiming. For some unknown reason I have not been able to get myself to the pool to swim (except a couple times when my nieces wanted me to take them swimming).

My inability to get back into swimming is definitely "amotivation" as a symptom at its best (or worst). Everytime I think of swimming it seems like it would take a bigger act of will, a larger use of energy than I can manage to pull together for one activity. The steps to get into the water seem arduous and impossible:

1. Find a swim schedule
2. Decide when to go
3. I have to find my bathing suit, swim googles, flip flops, shampoo, conditioner, brush, towel phine (an anti chlorine hair conditioner for my hair...or it turns green...really!), earplugs, and finally my swimcap
4. I have to put my swim suit on. (It may not fit...in which case I have to go find and buy another)
5. Then get dressed.
6. Then get in the car.
7. Then drive 1 km and park
8. Then get out of the car
9. Then go into the pool entrance
10. Then Pay
11. Then find a locker.
12. Then decide if I am brave enough to allow others to see my frighteningly out of shape body in a swim suit.
13. Then shower
14. Then put the phine on my hair
15. Then twist my hair up and somehow fit it into my swimcap
16. Then find a place for my towel and flip flops
17. Then walk out in front of all these skinny little lifeguards and everyone else
18. Then deal with all the noise and put earplugs in...(noise in the pool drives me crazy)
19. Then GET into the water...this has always been my hardest task...I always freeze at first
20. Then choose a lane...which will be hard because I will be faster than the slow lane and slower than the fast lane.
21. Then I have to dunk under water and get my googles on.
22. Then I begin swimming.
23. Then I have to shower, wash and condition my hair
24. Then get dressed
25. Then dry my hair
26. Then go to the car
27. Then drive home

If I do manage to get through the first 20 steps and actually begin swimming it is as though I sail through the water. I feel graceful and strong. Powerful, yet very beautiful (as if the two are incongruent in the first place). I feel like a fish, a seal, a killer whale. With each stroke I feel my breathing becoming more rhythmic. I become calm. Meditative. I feel soothed by the sound and sensation of the water passing over my body.

In 2nd University I had a MDE. I sought help at the counselling Dept. of the University. I had 6 sessions of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. The best practice that came out of that counselling, and the thing that I think helped me most was that every morning before my classes started I began to swim a approximately a mile every morning (32 X 50 metre laps).

I did not just swim, but while swimming I would repeat the following mantra, one statement per stroke and on the fourth stroke I would breathe:

"I am: (stroke 1) Bold, (stroke 2) Sexy (stroke 3) Powerful, (Stroke 4) Breathe"

Imagine how many times I said that statement over the six weeks of therapy? Over the 8 months of the school year. Within a few weeks I began to feel strong, sexy and powerful, partly because of the repetition of such positive statments about myself, but also because as I swam I began to have a better body. I felt bolder, sexier and more powerful, because I was becoming more like that mentally and physically.

So why, if swimming is so powerful for me, do I avoid it? I really do not understand the answer to that question, but today I had an epiphany that I am stronger than all the things I have believed I cannot do.

I can stop the Valium (I have so far), I can stop drinking...(getting better there too), I can go off all my medications successfully. I can. I am bold and powerful...I need a little work on the sexy...but I CAN get there to. I can.

Relief.

You have to laugh sometimes at the dumb things you do..."you" meaning "me". I am now down to 10 mgs Valium from 20mgs and tonight I'm going to 5mgs. I've also lowered my Tegretol from 1000mgs to 800mgs. So how's it going?

Last night I went to bed thinking there is no way in hell I'm going to be able to sleep, but if it hadn't been for my puppy wanting under the covers, because it is so damn cold, and then out of the covers because he was suffocating, I would have slept like a baby. I was having tons of dreams. I miss those too. These are welcome back.

As for the laughing at myself, I am a bit "spacey", and not altogether "there". I have been having some of these difficulties over the past few weeks, but today they went from stupid to bizarre stupid.

This morning I poured my coffee, opened the fridge, grabbed the vodka and was about to pour it into my coffee. Something seemed amiss about the situation though and before I poured I realized it was milk I wanted. I can't imagine what my brain would have thought had I poured the vodka in and my coffee didn't become creamy coloured.

Then (after drinking the coffee, which theoretically should have woken me up) I went to have a shower, a long, hot shower because it is so cold some of our pipes froze today and I could not get me or the house warm. So I started the shower and began to slowly undress ...then I jumped into the shower with my slippers on;>{probably not the horribly sexy outcome you were hoping for in the story). How is it possible to do that? After 43 years of showers or baths I forget the slippers?

Today though, despite wet slippers and a potentially "unsobering" morning I had a pretty good day. Not one of the great days I have had in the past, but I was "on". I felt like doing things and on a whim drove to Granville Island Market, which is usually insanely busy on weekdays, let alone Saturday afternoon.

It is an amazing public, indoor and outdoor market in Vancouver full of vegetables and specialty meat stores, all kinds of food stores (pasta shops, fish shops, butchers, bulk food store, wine shop bakeries, tons of fresh fruit and vegetable stalls, a unique food fair...the list goes on and on), fine art shops, art studios and a fine arts supply store, and the renowned Emily Carr Art University. It is a really, really great place to go, except you can NEVER find parking and it is usually so packed I feel super anxious when I go there.

Today that changed. There was hardly anyone there (weird given that it is the last Saturday before X-mas and it is supposed to snow tonight)...maybe 1/2 of a normal weekday crowd. Parking was easy to find. The best thing about the experience was that people were drawn to me the whole time I was there. I felt charasmatic.

The lady at the bakery chatted me up and even gave me a free cinnamon bun (the best on the planet!!). Then at the specialty meat shop the man serving me (he was HOT) kept coming onto me in a very obvious manner..which almost made me blush...well it did make me blush:>)...which only made him more persistently charming, causing me to blush even more at my own attraction to him...yikes.

Then I walked down to the art supply store and a charming young man, who I always see there said hello and asked me how was as I walked in the door...he's so cute, usually I avoid eye contact...today I felt as charming as him. I came home and had a nap, falling quickly into a deep, deep sleep.

Good energy has been pouring out of me most of the day and a c'est la vie feeling (or is that a dazed feeling) is encompassing me. This awakening relief from depression is particularily surprising today, given our water pipes froze last night, and it took forever to get them fixed and the house warm. On top of that, right before I went to bed last night, my dog chewed and completely mangled and destroyed my favourite pair of glasses. Glasses which I had, just the day before, paid 180.00 plus tax to get new lenses in...What could I do?

I never saw the dog eat the glasses; only found the remains crumpled and spread about on the floor afterwards. I walked over to him, knelt down, took his beautiful face in my hands and gently and lovingly whispered in his ear:

"My cute, sweet, adorable little puppy. Look what you did to my FAVOURITE (although emphasized, this word to was whispered softly and lovingly in his soft white floppy ear) glasses. This is not good. You won't do this again, right?"

To which he responded by angelically looking towards me, looking into my eyes with his big, brown, doe eyed stare. He then wagged his tail madly and licked my nose" Which can of course mean only one thing..."I love you, won't happen again." Ha! In my dreams.

Is Returning to Work an Essential Component of Wellness?

I have haven't slept well the since my last therapy appointment. Something in my session triggered some kind of potentially life changing thinking. I cannot sleep because I keep waking up thinking about how to change, accept and move on. When I wake it seems to take forever to fall back asleep. My mind has been racing with thoughts of how to make the leap, the decision, to change; how to create the will and motivation to change; and finally how to create change for myself despite my lingering and often paralyzing symptoms.

My appointment and meeting with a friend afterwards instilled a sense in me that I have been approaching my mental health "healing" and expectations of what is "well" from the wrong angle. I have been trying to get the old me back, but I suddenly recognize the old me, in many ways, is gone. My job now is not to recreate who I was, but to create a new me. Who I was led to my depression and anxiety. Who I was led to increasingly worsening Major Depressive Episodes)MDE's. Who I was is not a desirable goal to have. I need to be different than who I was in order to heal.

My entire life I expected that I would get meaning and purpose from my job, from working. I never wanted children, so that was not the way I sought meaning or purpose. It has always been through my job, or my schooling. School was extremely meaningful for me. Although I had two MDE's; one first year university and the other a few years later during second year university; both times the episodes were not triggered by lack 0f purpose/drive/interest/or meaning about school. Both were triggered by indecisiveness and fear of failing at something that mattered so much to me; although these may have been symptoms of an already "creeping in" of depression.

Once I came out of my depression in 2nd year I was happy for the next three years of school. I loved school. I loved the challenge. I had a sense of enjoying the moment, being IN the moment, feelings had not had for a long time. While going to school I worked part-time, but for the first time since I began work with babysitting when I was 12 years old, work became secondary to something more important to me. It was a means to and end, a means to do what I really liked to do; which was learn.

Until yesterday I did not realize what I have been doing for the last 7 years of depressive hell, and for the 11 years of my previous career. I have/had been trying to hang onto the job I had because, I thought it was the only way to create meaning and purpose in my life.

It never crossed my mind (even when I was doing the parts of the job that I hated) that my work was not the path to creating meaning and purpose. I just thought maybe I was not on the right work path. I even turned my favourite hobby (gardening) into work, because that is how I understood meaning could be found: through work.

As I left Dr. X's office I thought..."what if my volunteering really is work like he says?" Or what if even a more dramatic shift is taking place and work (volunteer or otherwise) is not my path to happiness?"

The former thought is a bit easier to accept; although I am loathe to concede Dr. X. may have been right all along. Only because I told him his insistence that "I was working" (i.e. volunteering) was really starting to annoy me. However, maybe I am working. Maybe it is important work. Maybe I am helping more people than I am taking from people? Maybe my volunteering balances out the disturbing thought that I am accepting disability money when so many others struggle more than me and deserve the help more than me.

The latter thought, "That maybe work is not my path to happiness" comes with all kinds of emotional baggage. Not the least of which is my fear of avoiding responsibilities, or feeling like I owe it to society to work, to not receive money for nothing; that awful feeling that I am a drag on my countrymen and women for being on disability, that I am shirking my duties and responsibilities; that I am doing something immoral or unethical in deciding work is not healthy for me. These thoughts are hard to manage.

Yesterday I just tried to take a Utilitarian approach to the idea of not working. I tried to imagine how my not working might be helpful, not only to myself, but to the greater good of society.

Perhaps, if I did not work, did not think of how to get working, did not try to find ways to work I would become well. Perhaps all that energy I spend negating and berating and hating myself for not working would go into constructive enterprises, painting, drawing etc.

Maybe, if I became well, Dr. X could help another person. Maybe, if I stopped worrying about work and focused on the things that bring meaning and purpose to my life: things like art, or music, or building and maintaining friendships, I would have more energy and the means to spread the joy to others who need more joy in there lives.

A tiny part of my mind is willing to concede that "work" as I define it is not healthy for me. Unfortunately, the largest part of my mind is preoccupied with what others will think, what is the right thing to do morally and ethically (for my community's greater good). It always appears that the point of wellness, (according to most mental and physical health providers), seems to be defined by an ability to return to work. If that is so, then how can the counter intuitive idea, that not working may help me become well and stay well, be correct?

Am I supposed to decide to not work? And if I decide that and become well, will a return to work make me unwell again? Am I forever unemployable, yet able to help others while helping myself? I cannot understand what it is I am supposed to be doing; what it is that will KEEP me well if I manage to get there?

Am I misunderstanding what Dr. X is trying to express to me?

Word Finding and Memory Problems

I am having so much difficulty with word finding and memory. I don't know if it is the depression or the medication. It's probably both. Whatever is causing it I am intensely frustrated, saddened and embarrassed by what I see is a continuing deterioration of my verbal intelligence, my ability to communicate and my memory; all aspects of myself that I highly value.

It seems like what words that used to flow out of me, without much thought are stranded somewhere in my brain. What used to take no time is now taking 10-20-30 seconds, and sometimes hours, or days to show up in my head. It is unpredictable what kinds of words I cannot find. Sometimes it is big words, sometimes it is everyday words like "pencil", or "palette", or "easel"

Here is an example of what happens:
Yesterday I was with a friend explaining how I really like this new show on t.v. called, "The Mentalist". I told her it is about this guy who used to be a "psychic" via trickery and observation. At some point early on, before the time in which the series is set, his wife and daughter are murdered by a serial killer. I can't remember if his chicanery led to the murders or not, but the murders lead him to a life change. He decides to use his powers of observation, and his ability to "read" people, for good and joins an investigative team with the California Bureau of Investigation.

The show is very... "insert word I can't find here"...and then I begin to fumble for the word. I know everything about the word, but its name. It means the show follows a pattern each week: A crime happens, the Bureau has a suspect, the mentalist does not believe that person caused the crime and, in a way that shows flippant disregard for the system, he shows everyone who the guilty party really is. The word I cannot find means "follows a pattern", or "plays out in a similar way", etc.

Neither of us could think of the word, so I bring this up in my appointment today and I STILL cannot think of the word despite knowing I know it, and that it is there, hidden somewhere in the folds of my brain.

It finally came to me when I was out with my puppy later in the morning. The show is "FORMULAIC". It may not seem like a big deal to some, but to me language is so important. The right word can often say more than a whole paragraph; as I believe I have proven in my above example. Also, it would not be a big deal if it weren't happening so often, and if it was not so noticeable to others. I feel like an idiot.

My memory is another problem (or part of the same problem?). I swear sometimes if you ask me what I did yesterday, or what day of the week it was, or when did I did a particular task...I just stare off into space, searching my brain. It feels similar to when your computer is really slow. Sometimes the answer eventually pops into my head, but sometimes it is as though I need to reboot. The memory is gone. So I end up saying I did such and such. I can't remember when, or I'm not sure which day, but I remember doing it.

Then sometimes I don't remember at all. This happens so much with television shows. I will start watching a show, my husband will say we have seen it. I will insist he may have, but I have not. Then suddenly, usually when the show is almost over, I begin to have the feeling I have seen it before and the memory of it pops into my head. Or alternately, I know I have seen a show I begin to watch, but I have absolutely no recall of what it is about...so watching it again is like seeing it for the first time.

My husband gets so angry with me. He says I'm stoned all the time on my medication. He belittles my inability to remember. I feel awful, that I cannot remember, but I wish he would give me a break.

Dr. X. is going to help me in some fun ways, to see if I can improve my memory. Today he came up with some interesting ideas about how to help retain what I learn and learn in the first place. The task he gave me this week is to find a magazine I like and read a couple articles that interest me. I will then bring them to our appointment next week and we will have a conversation about the articles. I understand the point will be to exercise my memory.

Dr. X. has been so comforting the past few weeks. I find his faith in me and his, "together we can do it, we can help me make progress together" attitude inspiring, even when I am sitting across from him crying. He has a knack for really listening to me and understanding me. I am able to appreciate and value his help even in my darkest moments.

Oh yeah....and I'm supposed to take my vitamins EVERY day. I will if I remember..ha, ha!

Ask Me a Question Part II

First Dr. X was my 9997th visitor. So close to the 10,000th. Wouldn't it have been mystical if he were the 10,000th visitor...yet there he sits three visits away. I wonder what he would ask if he could ask me any one question? Hmmmm?

I want to write, and I'm stuck for a topic, and my 10,000th visitor: Mr/Ms " Minneapolis, Minnesota. [who] started their visit at 12:09:56 pacific time (3:09:56 their time)and got to my blog by Googling "My Therapy Sessions" Did not or has not (yet) asked a question...the offer is still open...ask away.

So I thought I'd try to answer the 3 questions that were asked:

1) On Friday, October 17, 2008 11:08:00 AM Lola Snow from "Marine Snow" asked...

"If you woke up tomorrow and your life was perfect, what would have to change?"

Well...if it was perfect? Nothing! ...Sorry Lola I couldn't resist.

I will assume your question is an existential one, as in "what would I have to change to make my life perfect"? Is that what you are asking?

If so, that is a question to which I have been searching for the answers to for years. Today I said I was going to be honest in my answers. This will be hard, because I know I control some of the things that keep me down, but sometimes it is easier to live with the life you have, than make the changes you need to make.

a) I would have a job that I loved. One that required creativity and caring for others. A job that was stable and I was not alway afraid of losing, that did not change all the time, but that had change within it...i.e. one that required me to to think on my feet, utilized lots of different skills, was interesting in its variety and challenged me intellectually. I would work four days a week.

b) My husband would actively participate in marriage counselling with me. We would both work on completely overhauling how we communicate with each other. I would want to have sex again (I have completely lost my desire) and we would enjoy it at least a few times a week. On top of that I could actually manage to orgasm again. So, both my desire, and my ability to have enjoyable sex, would return. If my husband did not participate in counselling and work to help us change the way we communicate with each other I would divorce him.

c) I would not live in my old, falling down rented place. I would own my own home somewhere in Vancouver or east Richmond....just a small place with a yard. Nothing extravagant. All I want is a small home of my own that is not a a condominium. Unfortunately in this city, that dream is impossibly expensive. Maybe one day I can buy a lane home, or a carriage house. I need my own quiet space. I need a space I know is my own, where no one else (except my husband...who of course has gone to marriage counselling with me) has any power over my living situation.

d) I would swim everyday for at least 30 minutes (my perfect home would have a narrow 25" lap pool in the back yard)

e) I would WANT to live. I would not be plagued by depressive thoughts, or thoughts of suicide. I would no longer have all those thoughts of stabbing myself, or hanging myself, or shooting myself in the head, going through my brain over and over and over. I would give up the stash of medications I have hoarded for when I decide to kill myself.

f) I would not have any depression or anxiety symptoms. I would not have anxiety attacks, or panic attacks. I would not have any mood cycling. My mood would be level most of the time and my depression and anxiety would have disappeared. I would feel good like I did a couple years before this depressive episode and like I did in my last two years of university.

g) I would not stress out around others. I would look forward to going out to see others. It would be easy to go out with others. I'd stop feeling like I was in a bubble, or outside the circle at large social functions, or in stores and other places with lots of people.

h) I would not need a couple drinks every night. I would be able to drink socially like I did before; when I go out, never at home alone.

i) It would feel good and I would have the energy to do my housework. It would be enjoyable to cook dinner etc. It would feel good having a neat and tidy home.

j) I would enjoy gardening again.

k) My sisters and nieces would live closer to me.

l) My puppy would grow up to be well trained, behave like a saint, and be just as cute and cuddly as he is now.

m) I would have less things. No more clutter, or sentimental nic nacs. I would have a warm, yet calming zen like home...without all the accouterments of life I have gathered or been given over the years.

n) My Mom would be alive

o) I would make enough money to not worry about my bills or the things I need. If I made lots of money I would give away the amount I did not need to set up an art therapy foundation to help others with mental illnesses

p) I would spend at least 1 hour everyday creating art.

q) I would have an art studio in my house, where I could leave half done things up, and things I needed to create art were easily accessible at all times.

r) I would feel loved, cared for and wanted by those around me.

s) I would participate and join organizations that helped me feel a strong sense of community both culturally and spiritually with other people.

t) I would volunteer at least once a week

u) I would have season tickets to the Vancouver Symphony (and a companion who I didn't have to drag there to go with me each time)with me.

v) I would eat lots of veggies and take my vitamins. I might even become vegetarian again.

w) All my fatigue would disappear and I would sleep 8 hrs straight every night. I would have the energy I had during periods when I was not depressed.

and finally...
x) I would see Dr X once in a while because I enjoy his company, not because I need to see him. When I met with him we would have joyous discussions about all aspects of a good life, art, literature, intellectual ideas, friends, etc.


2) On Friday, October 17, 2008 11:11:00 AM deepblue from "Out of the Blue" asked:

"how do you afford/pay for your therapy?"

This is easy. I don't. In Canada we have nationalized health care. All doctors visits are covered by my province's medical insurance. I see my Psychiatrist for therapy, so the therapy is covered.

Having said that, before I met him I paid for therapy on my own for two years, once a week as psychologists are not covered. I really shored up how many times I went out for lunch and coffee etc. to save the $100.00 a week it cost. Also, on top of that I worked for a large corporation who allowed 6 free visits a year to a therapist...not great, but it helped. The only problem was I had to see psychologists covered by their plan, and I did not do well with any of them.

3) On Friday, October 17, 2008 11:55:00 AM Hannah from "Becoming Hannah" asked:

"Why you?"

I will answer this with a few different "voices":

a) The voice of reason: Depression, bipolar disorder and anxiety runs in my family. My maternal grandmother took antidepressants for years. My Mom was depressed for at least 10 years I can remember. My cousin has Bipolar Disorder and while undiagnosed, I am certain her Dad, my maternal uncle had bipolar disorder. It explains his bizarre, unpredictable and impulsive behaviour and his poor judgement.

My Dad has had a panic attack and I recently found out my paternal Grandma frequently had anxiety attacks. She also had an intensely hyperthymic temperament, the same way I feel better than most people when well.

My paternal Grandparents were alcoholics. I am pretty certain my Dad is too. Irritability, anger and a propensity towards emotional abuse and violence run in my paternal side as well. I was a worrisome child, and prone to insomnia, anxiety and dark thoughts from a very young age. It appears obvious I have a strong biological/genetic disposition to mental illness and alcoholism.

On top of that environmental factors made things more difficult for me. Our family moved almost every two years when my Dad was transferred with his job. So I was constantly in the mode of trying to please people, or trying to make new friends. As a coping strategy I tended to sever ties with those I left and form instant attachments to people in our new town. I always felt like an outsider.

My father was often away during my younger years as he was a police dog handler and was often called out for weeks at a time to search for people. He was emotionally abusive, distant and at times, a physically abusive father.

My parents divorce and how it proceeded in secret, how my Dad secretly remarried, how my Mom remained depressed for most of her life after my Dad left. This all affected me. I lost many friends to death in high school and was in a car accident where my best friend had a permanent head injury. That affected me.

With all that behind me it seems I was left unprepared and less resilient for all the regular sad and bad things that happen in everyone's lives. My depression and anxiety are not my fault. They are caused by a mix of environmental, genetic and biological factors.

b) The depressed voice: It is my fault I became this way. I had everything; a good job, a good family, (maybe my Dad was a bit harsh), but all in all my family cared for me. I just don't try hard enough. If I tried harder I would get better. I am too dependant on Dr. X. Maybe if I hated him I would get better so I would want to leave. Maybe I chooses to be this way? Maybe I stay this way because I get something out of it. Look I don't have to work, I can do whatever I want all day etc...but that's not true, because I am to depressed to do what I want and I want to work.

Well maybe I am being punished. Maybe I did bad things when I was young and I am paying penance for being a bad person. Maybe I deserve to feel this bad because I am a bad person. I think bad things about people. I hurt people. I don't deserve to be happy.

c) My Husband's voice: It's the medication and the help. If you hadn't tried medication you wouldn't be so sick. If Dr. X just refused to see you, you would get better. You will never get better while you have someone to help you (huh?). The day he cuts you off seeing him and off medication is the day you will start to feel better.

d) My Existential Voice: You continue to be depressed and anxious because you have intense death anxiety. Life is short, limited, it ends. You are not well because you are not living the life you want to live, you are not using what little time you have on this earth wisely. When you discover what it is you want and pursue that dream the depression will subside.

e) Dr. X's Voice (my interpretation): You have an illness that is caused by genetic, biological and environmental factors. Medication can help, but it will not be the only thing you need. You need to work hard to become well. To do all the things you can to feel better. I think he believes, like I do, that there is a strong existential angst component to my depression as well. He knows that finding and creating meaning in my life, and creating a purposeful life for myself are essential to my becoming well. They are not all I need, but they are a huge part of it.

Lola, Deepblue and Hannah:

Thanks for the questions. they really gave me both a lot to write about, but also a huge amount to think about and work on in therapy. Thanks.
...Aqua

Two More Paintings Completed

As some of you know I am painting 3; 12"x12" inch paintings for each of my nieces. It is great practice for me and I feel I am learning something about painting each painting I paint.

Each of my nieces chose a topic/topics and a colour theme. Purple and Zebras was the first.

My second niece (8 years old) asked me to paint a seal, a polar bear and a puffer fish and use "aquamarine" as the colour theme...(we are peas in a pod:>)...wish I was 8 again!!

Here are the "seal" and the "polar bear" paintings I finished for her:

I Never Would Have Guessed it, but There is Hope.

I think I am becoming the person who always annoyed me. Let me explain.

It is coming up on the 7th "anniversary" of my having my first scheduled visit with Dr. X. "Officially" this MDE has been 7 years of chronic major depression as of August this year. Unofficially I'd say longer than that. Since at least 1999 I have been almost always depressed except for a one or two months. Before that I have had MDE's continuously off and on since I was 16 or 17. Between some I had one or two years of feeling good, but as the years have gone on there has been shorter and shorter times of feeling well/good between episodes.

This episode has been, by far, the worst. Not necessarily in terms of how bad the symptoms were, because in 1988 or 89 I had a 3 or 4 month depressive episode that was similar in terms of symptoms. It has been the sheer length AND severity of symptoms combined that until recently, completely enveloped me and stole me from my life.

As I approached 1 year in the MDE I couldn't believe the tenacity of my symptoms. Two years and I was completely overwhelmed, hopeless and distraught. Three years and I was certain I was going to kill myself, because I would always feel this way. 4, 5 and 6 years the same thing. Everyday felt like the only thing I could do was survive.

I would become so annoyed, and sometimes to the point of feeling enrage by the comment "Depression is a treatable illness". I felt like: Fuck you it is!! That's bullshit! What about the 10-20% of us who do not seem to respond to medications or other treatments.

No matter what I tried, or how hard I tried to get better, I seemed to sink further and further into the hell that was my depressed life. Honestly, I think the harder I struggled AGAINST it, the worse it got. I would repeat over and over to myself, "I am NOT this person. This is NOT me."

It is. It is me. I have a chronic mental illness. I can try all I want, but I cannot make it go away. That would be like wishing away heart disease, or diabetes, or whatever physical illness you can think of.

People often say "You are not your illness". I always found that trite and unhelpful. When you are depressed you are consumed with your illness. It makes you stop going out, stop eating, or eating to0 much. It jams its way between you and your partner. It takes over your thoughts and replaces them with often obsessive, violent and/or intricately detailed thoughts of exactly how you are going to kill yourself and make your hell end. Depression takes you away from your friends. It turns you into a pariah. It insists you never try anything, because you will fail. It tells you things are hopeless and that you will always feel this way.

When severely depressed you ARE your illness. It chains you to an agonizing life I would not wish on my worst enemy.

So, over the last 7 years I have obsessively read self help books, blogs, and any article I could find anywhere about depression; hoping I would find the secret to getting out of this way of living. I survived only because I had a pdoc who never gave up on me, who never once seemed overwhelmed, or discouraged. I am sure he must have been discouraged with my inability to make progress, or my lack of progress, but not once did he ever let me see that. He always provided(and provides me with hope). I so desperately needed hope, and the more I trusted him, the more I began to believe his hope was realistic.

So now I notice my mood is beginning to lift. Honestly, I am in shock that this is happening. I cannot believe I am changing before my eyes.

That's where I find myself becoming the person who always annoyed me. I am becoming the person that believes either that depression is treatable, or that it is self-limiting and eventually each episode ends. I am beginning to really believe (not just hope) that a combo of medications can be found for even the toughest of depressions. Oh my God....I am actually becoming optimistic...That, I absolutely am astounded by.

I am not well yet. In fact I am not certain I will ever return to the "well" I knew before. I am changed by my experiences with depression and anxiety. I am beginning to believe that, though my life will be different from well, it might be a better life. I cannot explain it, but it is as though the depression informed me, albeit in an extremely roundabout, and horrifying way, that my life needed changing. I'm not sure if the change is helping me, or the medicine, or my therapy. It is probably a combination of all of these.

Whatever it is. I hope it sticks around and I have hope that it will.

Creating a Community for Myself: My Path Towards Resiliency

This is a long post. I was asked by someone at one of the Mental Health Teams in my city to write about my experiences with creating a community for myself and how it has helped my mental health. They want to share it with people they are trying to help. I thought I'd share it with you.

Creating a Community for Myself: My Path Towards Resiliency

Social isolation has been one of the most difficult symptoms of my depression for me to overcome. When well I am open, bubbly, extremely extroverted, trusting and want to be around people. When I am in a Major Depressive Episode (MDE) I turn inwards and isolate myself from the world, even from close friends and family. Seemingly simple social tasks, like answering the phone, or returning e-mails, become experiences that fill me with dread.

My illness presents itself as Major Depressive Disorder: an illness that consists of "episodes" of Major Depression, usually followed by periods of wellness. My depression is anxious and there is a component of "bipolarity" to it; meaning my mood cycles between severe lows and extreme highs. Both these symptoms make my depression more difficult to treat.

My most recent MDE has been treatment resistant, or "refractory" to medications and other treatments for 7 years. This means despite my trying literally more than 30 different medications and combinations of those medications, having ECT and participating fully in psychotherapy once, and for long periods, twice a week, I remained severely depressed and anxious, while periodically cycling up close to hypomania for a few days for most of this entire 7 year period.

With my depressive symptoms refusing to budge with medication, my psychiatrist and I work in therapy to help me in other ways. One of the major areas I have been working on in therapy is lessening my social isolation, and increasing meaning and purpose in my life by "creating a community for myself". This is a very difficult endeavor because my symptoms: Depression, Social Anxiety, Isolation, Amotivation, Fatigue Concentration and Memory Problems and Cycling Moods, work against my ability to help myself change, meet people, keep social commitments and often do anything beyond survive. Even that seems hard sometimes.

The process of change and creating a sense of shared meaning and community with others has been very slow and has never followed a direct upward trajectory towards wellness. I move forward, only to have my symptoms drag me backwards again. It has been a one step forward two steps back experience. I am, however, moving forward slowly. I do see this improvement. Before I just kept going two steps back over and over again.

When my psychiatrist first introduced the idea of creating a community for myself, a community that would help me become more resilient, that would accept me for who I was, that would add meaning to my life, that would help me move out of my isolation and into a world that both interested and supported me, I thought he was the crazy one. I felt so depressed and anxious, and I was so isolated; literally laying on the couch, or hiding in my bed all day. The task seemed impossible. How did he think I was going to manage such a difficult task?

I started safe and small. I was afraid to be around people, so I thought maybe being around animals would help. I began walking dogs for the SPCA. It got me out of the house. That was a big step.

Then a year or so later I began volunteering for [an arts festival in my city ]. To volunteer I needed to write my resume and go for an interview. I was absolutely terrified, but I pushed myself to do it with the help and support of my psychiatrist and with the belief that I might find a community that interested me.

I was very sick at the time and switching medications periodically. I was so scared each day I was scheduled to volunteer, sometimes even for days before my scheduled volunteer day, but each time I went I was greeted by my co-workers and my supervisor, people did not seem to notice I was sick, even if I thought I was not doing a good job I seemed to manage the tasks, the people I volunteered with were very nice. Each day I volunteered I gained a bit more confidence in my abilities. My second year with The festival I became so depressed I could not continue volunteering. To take care of myself I gave notice and stepped back from my commitments. This was a setback, but not a failure.

A few years prior I had become a member of a therapeutic art clubhouse that offered art classes to people with mental illnesses. The first class I took was Beginner's Drawing. I remember being so anxious about going to the classes. I was afraid I would be rejected, or not fit in, or be so bad at drawing I would be humiliated by my failures.

The instructor allowed me to be whoever, and however, I was on any given day. By the end of the 10 classes I felt a sense of community with the instructor and the people in the class. Motivating myself to reach out to other human beings and to leave my house and participate in a community was a huge step for me.

Still very ill, I took a Pottery class at the Clubhouse and then an Intermediate Drawing class. Each time I had to go to class I would feel sick and anxious. There were days when I really have no idea how I managed to get there. I believe my commitment to joining and participating in each class, having a scheduled and structured activities for myself and my psychiatrist's support, provided me with enough external motivation to go to each class.

It was not easy. I was always so anxious before I went to each class. Usually that anxiety stuck around for the first hour of the class, however often it never left me the entire class. It was hard to stay, but with the supportive environment and the support of my psychiatrist I forced myself to stick with my commitments. As each class went on I became more and more comfortable with the environment and with the people around me. Showing up to these classes was like behavioural therapy: A type of therapy that desensitizes a person to things they fear by slowly introducing them to the thing or things they are afraid of, until finally they become no longer afraid of the thing they fear.

My experiences at the [Art Clubhouse] awakened the slumbering artist inside me. I had never been artistic. In fact, drawing stick figures was the extent of my experience with the fine arts. I had always loved art; other people's art, but never believed it was possible for me to learn what I loved. With the [Art Clubhouse] experiences and successes to back me up I took a huge step from the Art Studios and decided to try an Adult Education class at [a local Art College]. It was a difficult, but rewarding experiences and my love for drawing began to grow.

Driven by my new found joy of art I began volunteering at the [Art Clubhouse]. I participated in cleanup days, and showed up for their monthly meetings. I began to meet more people in that community. The more I participated in the community the more it began to feel like an even safer and welcoming community. I had discovered a group of peers who not only shared my love for art, but who also understood and accepted me for who I was.

One day I saw a posting for an assistant to the printmaking instructor. I took another large leap and applied for the position. I cannot even express how difficult this was for me. I was very depressed at the time and cycling rapidly between severe and anxious depression and a sense of euphoria brought on by my new found feelings of social freedom and a sense of meaning and purpose I had not felt in a long time. After being the Printmaking Assistant I applied to be the Beginner's Drawing instructor's assistant. Each time I assisted the instructor my anxiety became less and less and my comfort level, and my enjoyment the studio's community improved more and more.

I now volunteer to teach Art classes. I teach Beginner's Drawing, and have taught a short Printmaking group for young adults. I am about to teach my third session of Beginner's Drawing classes and a session for young adults in drawing, printmaking and painting. Even better than this I have discovered I have both a love and a developing talent for acrylic painting. To top it all off I have somewhere to go to share this joy with and even more important, I now interact regularly with people who support my artistic endeavours.

Through a supportive and caring community I have discovered meaning and purpose in my life. I am becoming the person I always wanted to be. Never in my life have I felt like I was on the right path. I feel like that now and this feeling has healing power. My experiences at the [Art Clubhouse] have opened a world for me I never knew existed. This community has lifted me out of isolation and is moving me closer in my quest towards healing my soul. I cannot say enough how important creating a community for myself is contributing towards my climb out of depression and towards resilience and increased wellness.

Getting Back on Track

The post I wrote yesterday turned into a completely different post than I originally set out to write. That happens to me sometimes. I start writing and find I have 2 or three themes going on in one post. Often I split them into separate posts.

What I set out to write about was about my life's new "Constitution" as laid out in my post last week: "Today is My New Birthday". I woke that morning and it became so clear my dream "The Wolf Returns" was passing me important, life enhancing and life changing messages.

It has happened before: my dreams sending me messages. In 2003 I had a dream: "Transformational Dreams" that compelled me to finally leave work after trying to allow myself to take that step for more than a year. Three weeks after my "Transformational Dream" I left work. Most of my leaving was because Dr. X and I had worked hard on my believing I needed to leave to help myself, but the dream passed a message to me that felt urgent, life changing and intensely important.

The dream, "The Wolf Returns" felt full of that same intensity. I feel compelled to heed its messages. So a couple days later it became clear to me the dream was exhorting me to reset my values, my life's "Constitution" and to take care of myself in a way I have never been able to.

So I boldly laid out my plans for the new me in my blog.

The next day I crashed. I felt intensely embarrassed that I had been so brazen as to commit, not only to myself, but to anyone reading my blog, that I was a suddenly changed human being. So the next day, and the day after that I pretended I still felt as brave. Inside I was so depressed and had slipped right back into the old me.

I spoke with Dr. X about this. He told me if a country has no written Constitution, no written values and goals, it is easy for the people to slip outside the informal values of the country. A written constitution sets out formal goals, a formal structure for the way the country wants to be, the goals towards which the country and its citizens want to work towards.

A written constitution does not mean the country will immediately achieve the desired way of being, or that it will always stick within it's written goals. It takes time, mistakes and practice to follow a formal constitution.

My set out goals and values are like that. Change takes time and practice. Moving in the direction you want is not always simple, and you will slip and fall back into old ways of being. Things will happen that get in your way, that cause you to return to old way. It is important to have your goals clearly set out in front of you, so you can get back on track.

I felt so much better after he said that. I left my appointment feeling like, "okay I slipped, but I can work to get back to where I was when I wrote my values statement". I feel really blessed I have the pdoc I do. Every week I feel I can get to my appointment. If I can get to my appointment I have someone to help me get back on track. That is a great feeling.

Am I Forever Broken?

"How can you go so many years and not know you liked something so much?

My sister said those words to me yesterday when I was expressing how much joy I was getting out of conceptualizing, planning and painting the five paintings I have on the go right now and the others I have completed.

A comment Dr. Shock made on one of my past posts, about wanting to see my other art work, stimulated me to pull together and photograph an array of some of my early drawings from when I was learning to draw. I see so much progress and the switch into painting has increased my desire to create art tenfold.

How could I never have known I wanted to draw or paint? In university it was the pursuit of knowledge and that which was intellectually challenging that brought happiness and excitement into my life. I graduated with two degrees, one in Philosophy and one in English literature. My last 3 years of university were the best years of my adult life. To do well in both of those majors you had to love to read and write. I loved both. I never foresaw that it was the creative process, and not necessarily the intellectual process I may have been pursuing.

I am struggling now with how my love for art can fit into the life I want for myself. You may, or may not know I am on disability for my Major Depressve Disorder (MDD), and have been since early 2003. I really hate that I am on disability. It may be my Dad's voice that I have internalized, but I feel it is a societal voice as well. I feel I am not contributing, that I am using up precious resources, that I am a bad person for being unable to work.

I know that while I am having some good days my mood is extremely labile, and my anxiety is still not under control. For the past month or so I have felt better than I usually feel, but I am far from well. I also understand that the progress I have made is precarious and could topple with the slightest amount of pressure.

My pdoc has explained this to me, and even took the time to write me a note outlining why I am unable to work right now; a note I can read, and reread when I am feeling like I am today, when I feel guilty and unsure that I am doing the right thing. I have reread it today, but it is difficult for me to accept its contents.

What if I can never work? How am I going to deal with my negative self image for not working? Dr. X. keeps telling me I am working. He means all the work I am doing to try to become well, but also the volunteer work I am doing. I get that he is trying to make me see that work has many definitions; that work is not simply working for an organization for a twice monthly pay cheque. I get it, and I get that others need to step back from work to take care of themselves. I just cannot accept that for me. I define myself by what I do; by what I work at. I always have.

I want so badly to work again, but I know I cannot manage that yet. I can barely manage what I am doing right now: volunteering two half days a week. I feel exhausted after doing those things.

Also, I am not certain if anyone else is like this, but I am a "one thing a day" person right now. I can paint, or I can volunteer, or I can visit with someone, but I can't do them on the same day, and if I do those things I cannot manage to cook dinner or clean the house, or keep up with my domestic duties, actually even if I don't do those things I cannot manage the domestic stuff.

Will I ever get my life back? By that I mean will I ever be able to work a full time job, keep the house clean, go grocery shopping, mow the lawn, tend to the garden, help my husband on the farm, have a social life, have dinner parties every few weeks, and do continue working on and developing my art work? Will I ever be my old self?

Will I ever get my life back, or am I forever relegated to the sidelines; surviving and struggling so hard just to manage to complete, or sometimes just start, one thing a day?

Will I ever get my life back, or do I have to accept a new way of being. Has being this depressed for so long, and so often, destroyed my fortitude, my drive and my abilities? Has my depression and anxiety toppled the old me forever? I want to know what it is I am supposed to do. What is expected of me? What should I expect from myself? What does society expect of me? Does Dr. X. know what I can expect from my future? Does anyone else know?

I do know that I have an intense desire to paint and create. That is good, I have no formal training in art, I'm 43 I am certain I could not manage the stress of things like exams and essays.; the exams especially. I have too many problems with my memory and cognitive abilities. I feel so lost and so scared I will be stuck either on disability, or at a low paid, disatisfying job for the rest of my life. If the latter I know what will happen. I will spend all my time and energy trying to be the best low paid employee at "whatever company" , and all the things that bring joy to my life will be left undone and I will once again fall into severe depression and then I will be on disability at an even lower rate than I receive now.

I am stuck in a no win situation.