Learning to Read

I just finished reading a book. You might think, "so what". However, to me it was one of my most important achievements. I have not been able to read a book for years.

I do not know what happened to cause me to lose my ability to read a book. It may be that I was so sick I could not read. Whatever the case, I went from someone who had 5 or 6 books going at a time, to someone who could not follow a storyline. After trying many, many times and failing I simply gave up.

A few months ago, a friend of mine recently rediscovered her love of reading. I marvelled at all she read and what she was reading. I felt an intense longing to read again. It was like a fire was lit beneath me. I saw possibility.

Then a couple weeks ago my boyfriend and I were talking about my difficulty reading and he said, "Just start to read and keep reading even if you aren't following what is happening. Read the same sentence over and over if you have to, but keep going. Get into the habit of reading"

So I chose a simple book, a kids book, and I started to read. At first it was such a struggle. Even once I got going I kept mixing up the characters and the plot lines. I would suddenly be reminded of a character I had forgotten all about, or become confused by why something was happening the way it was.

Despite a bit of frustration at how much trouble I was having, I kept trying. Eventually I started to remember, to follow...to enjoy, what I was reading.

I think a few things were key to my succeeding this time:

• My depression is not as bad as it has been and my medication has slowed the constant barrage of bad thoughts so I have room left in my brain to focus and think about something else,
  
• I purposefully chose a very simple book. In fact, I choose a book geared towards adolescents,
  
• I choose a book with a subject that interested me,
  
• I made reading a priority, so it trumped my housework, or other duties in terms of importance,
  
• I ensured I set time up to read right before I went to bed,
  
• The times I started procrastinating I told myself to just go pick up the book and read for 5 minutes. Usually I would intend to read for 5 and still be reading 1/2 hr later.

I feel so encouraged by my ability to read this book. I feel like it is possible to read books again. Honestly, I was so discouraged before that I thought I would never be able to read books again.

Next, I am going to read my favorite book from when I was in grade 3 or 4 next. I figure it will be manageable, and it will bring back some good memories...and we all need more of those.

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.

Thank You

• Despite not sleeping and still being almost unbearably depressed I woke this morning with a clearer head. The comments people made on my last post both reinforced my clearer thinking and gave me some new ideas about how to help myself.
  
  Thank you so much for being so caring and supportive. It really helps me feel less alone, and less hopeless.
  
  So here is what I did/am going to do:
• I called Dr X's office and left a message for him to see if I can get an appointment with him Monday, or if not, if he can send in a referral tomorrow for me to receive ECT as soon as possible.
• I e-mailed him too in case the voice mail gets lost, because my phone is doing strange things right now.
• I was going to wait until after X-mas to go in for ECT, but I am so depressed I need to feel better now. I am afraid about how hopeless and desperate I feel. I want my life back now. If they are able to fit me in now my Xmas will hopefully be happier. The hospital may not have any available ECT treatment times anyways, but I want to at least try to get in now.
• My friend "E" (thank you!)went with me to check out doggy daycare, because my biggest concern has been what if I can't get home withing four hours of leaving my dog. He cannot stay in his kennel much longer than that.
• Ends up it is only $23.00 for a half day, or $28.00 for a full day...not much when you consider how much it could help me.

I don't know why I did not think of doggy day care before. It makes so much sense: He gets exercise, care and companionship, and I can stop worrying about not being home on time, or not feeling well enough to walk him.

• I sent an inquiry to a private home care company this morning to ask about availability, cost of getting someone to help me home from the hospital. If there are no other options I'm pretty sure some company can help me.
• I am going to phone the nurse at the hospital tomorrow to see what my options are to be an outpatient when I have no one to take me home...I am sure others must have this problem. My Mom used to be a nurse and managed Home Support in her town. People were available to help with all kinds of things for patients. There must be someone in the system who can help me.

As you can see I at least feel a bit of hope right now. I feel like there is a way I can do ECT as an outpatient, it is just a matter of finding the resources available.

The one thing I am afraid of is that the hospital contact will be less than helpful...and will just keep repeating the written rules, saying something like, "the rules say I either stay in as a patient, or have a friend/relative be with me and take me home".

There are lots of great healthcare people out there, but for some reason I have come across more than my fair share of medical people who seem to treat me like I am the problem, and not that the system is not flexible to help people with unique challenges. I often feel like my having a mental illnesses causes some healthcare professionals to discount my intelligence and to jump to conclusions about me before they know my story.

You know how sometimes people working in a bureaucracy are unable to think outside the written rules and make exceptions, or find novel ways to get around a problem. If I hit that kind of a wall I don't think I have the strength to try to get the person to understand how important doing this as an outpatient is to me.

Anyways...thanks again for the comments and support. You got me thinking outside the box, which really increased my hope.

Concrete and Practical Help

The idea for this post came from Eliza Jane's comments about sometimes needing "concrete" help...thanks EJ

On Sunday I left a message at my pdoc's office to see if I could get an appointment before my scheduled appointment. They called me this morning and booked me in for 4pm. Even as I spoke to the secretary I thought maybe I don't need the appointment now. I was still depressed, but not as acutely so as the past few days. I went against my avoidant self and took the appointment.

A few "concrete" things helped me in my appointment today:

• Dr. X's welcoming attitude when I expressed how I was happy to be able to see him earlier in the week. He said he was glad that I felt comfortable enough to call when I needed to.
• Both his offer to write, and his taking time after my appointment to write, a letter for me to take to the emergency room if I ever felt I needed to go to the emergency because I was suicidal

This letter was brought up after I explained to him how I was afraid to go to the hospital because I felt like I might get there and my mood might lift momentarily, then the Dr. would dismiss my symptoms, reject my cry for help and send me home, where I would feel even more depressed that no one "heard" me, recognized how depressed I was and that I needed help.

In the letter he wrote about my mood disorder symptoms and the intensity and severity of my suicidal ideation. He also said that I would not bring myself to the hospital if I was not ready to put my suicide plans into action.

• As I read the letter it became really clear to me that he really did understand how much I was hurting; how much pain my symptoms were causing me.

I feel now, that if I were to be suicidal I would take myself, with the letter, to the hospital.

• We discussed possible medication strategies...this gave me some hope that there are options we have not explored and many combos we have not tried.

Thanks Dr. X for listening and helping me take care of myself. It really helped me to see you today.

Thanks too to my friend "E" who encouraged me to see him in the first place.

Here is My Truth

My appointment today was at first a bit stressful, but mostly it was uplifting. I am blessed to be a patient of Dr. X. I have known that from the first day I met him. I connect with him in a way that I cannot seem to with anyone else. I am learning, slowly, that connections like this are important to me and I need to search out other people I feel this way about.

I once again felt worried I had destroyed my therapeutic alliance with him, by "outing" my crush on him. A big part of why I am afraid it was the wrong thing to do is that it seems that everyone I say I love you to, or anyone I really really like and say so, always disappears in my life. It is so hard for me to get to the stage where I can actually speak my truth about someone. By the time I do it is too late, or the words magically destroy the bond.

Dr. X told me he was glad I told him, and that it was always important that I speak my truth with him. He also said we have a very strong alliance. I felt he was speaking truthfully, and that it was okay for me to feel whatever I did, and to talk about it openly, safely.

Part of the reason I feel drawn to him is the way he is: introspective, interesting, interested, thoughtful, never angry, calm, compassionate, always supportive, always available.

I have never met any man, my entire life who is these things. It's strange, but I was always drawn to the "bad boys". The men who always wanted to use me, or who wanted only one thing (I wanted that to)...but I also wanted more...and could never figure out why I always received less than I needed.

I watched as all my friends met men, who cared for them, and fell in love with them. By the time I was 27 I had slept with too many men to count, always enjoyed the experiences, but was always left wanting more than sex. I don't know what it is about me, but it seems I am not a lovable person. On top of that I am not sure I have ever loved. I guess that explains not receiving romantic love...you need to feel it to receive it.

This is my truth:

• The first man in my life, my dad, was the pattern from which all my relationships with men were cut. It was the relationship I learned to emulate. Unfortunately I have some of my dad in me. I get angry, and irritated, I am a bit overwhelming sometimes. I don't listen enough. I talk too much.
• My father was controlling, punishing, physically abusive and even worse a dismissive bully who believed the only correct views were his own. He scared me to death. He used intimidation; mental and physical abuse to keep me in line. I am still terrified by him. Almost every time I see him he does something that elicits tears in me. I know I am responsible for the tears, but I cannot make them stop. I cry on the way to his house. I don't want to go, but feel an intense sense of duty to be a good daughter. I humour him when with him to protect myself, but it always backfires. I never mange to stand up for myself.
• I left home the week after high school and moved to a different province. Less than a week after I moved far away from home I was date raped by the first boy I dated in my new town. I don't know what I was thinking, but I went back to his place after going to a club with him. We started kissing and then he began to take my clothes off. I tried to stop him, but he kept saying it was okay, we didn't have to do anything. When I was laying on the bed with him, partially clad, feeling cared for and enjoying the intimacy, feeling attractive and attracted to this man, he began trying to have sex with me. I said no numerous times, but he pushed me down and forced himself into me. As soon as it was over he told me to leave. I got dressed. Left, and cried all the way home. I felt dirty and used. I showered and cleaned myself up. Then I went to the payphone to beg my Mom to let me come home. She kept telling me I was just homesick and I had to stick it out longer and I'd get over it. I was so ashamed that I had let myself be in the position to have sex, that I had led the person on, that inside I had kind of wanted to make out, that I had not fought harder to get out of there. After that night I let men do whatever they wanted with me. If it got rough, something about that turned me on. It was like my being "taken" triggered a need to be taken. I think I lost my ability to love that night.

The truth is, the only man, in my real life (vs. people online), that has ever treated me respectfully is Dr. X. Even with other doctors, or professionals I have always felt either condescended to or dismissed. I can see that maybe my first male role model made it impossible for me to trust men, so all men get painted with the same black brushstrokes. Dr. X is consistently respectful. I need that.

My truth is that I have a lot of pain inside about how my relationships/nonrelationships with men have gone. I don't feel love, because I don't trust anyone. I always expect them to hurt me. I get what I expect.

I don't mean I get what I expect in a "The Secret" kind of way. I don't believe simply expecting others to be honest, fair, truthful and loving will make it so. That is magical thinking. I know that.

I mean I get what I expect, because I act and react to the people I would like to love me, in a way that creates a wall between us, in a way that projects fear and self consciousness. In a way that doesn't come across as genuine, or authentic.

When I am my authentic self I am full of intense passion and a desire to love. I sing loud, and laugh louder. I am overjoyed with being here on earth. I want to experience more, to witness more, to learn more. When I am my authentic self I draw people to me. Unfortunately my authentic self always eventually disappears for days, or weeks, sometimes months, and over the past 10 years into 2 and then 10 years of depression...which leads me to recede, to make myself small, to lose touch with all my talents and skills.

In therapy I think I have finally realized my truth. My truth is that I will always be besot by depressed periods. This is true. I will always have some sort of cycling appear here and there. This is true. What isn't true is that there is no hope, no way out. I have the power, both within me, and by reaching out to others, like my pdoc, to MANAGE to live with the depression.

If I have a structure to at least part of my day everyday, if I have other people or my cats and dog that I am responsible to, if I take my medication regularly, if I keep a regular sleep schedule, if I sit in front of my S.A.D. lamp every morning, if I keep in contact with people who care about me, if I continue to see Dr. X. for support...and maybe especially because I like seeing him, if I create art, if I sing everyday...even if I am sad...actually ESPECIALLY is I am sad, I can manage my life. I can make my life, even if it is a sad one, a life worth living.

It seems ironic, but without my struggles with depression, especially the intense despondency, hopelessness and despair I have felt this last depressive episode, I don't think I would ever have discovered my love for creating art. I may not have rediscovered my intense love for music and singing, I would never have began volunteering. I am not saying depression is a gift...I hate that misplaced platitude. I am saying that without my depression I would never have questioned what I wanted, or who I am. I would have continued on my weary way to a hellish existence. I would never have looked at my life from an existential perspective and asked myself if I loved the life I was living. I did not, but I am beginning to create the life I want. It is remarkable what I am learning about myself. It is remarkable that I am slowly learning it is okay to feel joy.

Happiness Sits Amongst the Saddest of Times

Warning: May Trigger...but may also provide some hope even in the bleakest of times.

As I went to bed last night I recognized it was okay to die, so I lay awake most of the night last night planning how to kill myself. I managed to get through the night and get up and go to my pdoc appointment. The whole way there, and as I sat down in the chair to talk I was feeling intensely guilty about making these plans, but also praying for some relief from both my life, and the thoughts.

I had one of those appointments where I felt so small, so insignificant, so worthless, until Dr. X started talking to me and caring about me. I have no way of knowing if he really cares, or if what he does is his "job", but he always manages to make me feel connected to at least him. For that I am grateful.

In my appt, amidst tears and anxiety, Dr. X asked me if there was anything good that happened over the past week. At the time I could only think of a couple things, but this is my exercise this evening, to remember any joy I felt even in the darkness of my thinking. To try to brighten the darkness I feel now with memories of happy moments:

Here goes:
1) My youngest sister has the most beautiful smile. She has a dimple when she smiles carried over from my maternal grandfather. I love her smile.

2) I love listening to her. She speaks with radiance and excitement about all her activities and her children. She draws you into her stories. She has a killer sense of humour

3) My youngest neice is 5. I completely cracked up when she did this to me...it's her latest gag

...imagine a perfect southern drawl coming from a beautiful sparkling (Canadian) 5 year old imitating someone between Scarlet O'hara and Mae West:

• She flicks back her hair and her head; looks directly into your eyes and says,
• "My you're a tall drink 'o water. Wanna dance?
• We proceed to waltz around the house and it begins again...
• this time with her looking directly into my eyes and pushing my hair off my forehead...
• "My you're beautiful. Wanna dance?"

4) Her sister 8 years old coming home with the most incredible report card, saying she is being put ahead into reading groups two years above her grade because she is such a great reader. The teacher commented "If all my students were as interested in learning, as thoughtful towards others and polite to everyone as A is, my job would be easy"

5) Listening to this niece read and recognizing her love for reading is even bigger than mine was at her age...and mine was huge.

6) Getting packed up to leave my sister's house and going to get my "pearly white" dog, (who I had, just the night before described to my little sister as "Super white, but you should see him dig holes, he's black, shakes of and he's super white again...it's a miracle).

Calling him into the house so we can leave for my Dad's in 5 minutes. The the dog is soaking wet and has BLACK mud all over himself. Needless to say I had to give him a bath and was late to my Dad's.

7) Had I known what an ass my Dad was going to be I would have "accidentally" let the muddy black dog into his house...but I am too responsible...sigh! That thought brings me some levity though. It would have been funny on some level.

8) Driving down to Victoria with my other two nieces (who had spent the night at there Grann and Poppa's) All three of us signing Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus songs that I downloaded for them on my ipod...We sang, and sang...they are adorable.

9) My sister and I went shopping and I found 3 beautiful bras...(I have a bit of a bra fetish)...a gorgeous khaki one, a black one that laces up the front and a lacey pink one. As soon as I got home the dog ate my lacey pink one...he too has a bra fetish.

10) I let my dog pee in my psychopathic/control freak brother in law's "perfect garden/lawn that even the kids can't walk on...just because every time I thought how mad my BIL would be if he knew the dog was peeing on his immaculate, useless lawn I felt like laughing (yes, I have a bit of a "spritelike" mischievousness about me sometimes..hee, hee.. I couldn't stop the dog anyways...he's a puppy and he really needed to pee right then and there.

11) I love my sister and it was good to see her, even if it is unbearable in her house because of her husband.

12) The whole time I was away I had my beautiful puppy with me. My love for him grows stronger everyday.

13) When I got home I went for breakfast with a friend I am getting to know and becoming close to. She really listened to me struggling, but after a while her company made me happier and my involvement in our conversations made me distracted from my own worries. She really helped me calm down.

14) Despite how desperately sad I was in my appointment today, Dr. X let me know I was cared for by him. At the time I struggled with believing that, but this evening I believe he does truly care for me. That helps.

15) I took a walk with my dog at the University today. A man came up to me and we started talking about dogs on campus and how there need to be more of them.

When he left he said, "It was nice talking with you. God bless you". I really felt it was my Mom talking through him...like he knew I needed to hear those words. He began walking away, then stopped and came back. He said, "my name is Kirk, what's yours? I told him and he said, "Have a Merry Christmas Aqua" and then disappeared.

I started to cry, because I am really struggling with Christmas and why , if there was a God he would take my Mom away from me at such a young age, and why I can't get better. I needed someone to bless me right then and there, and it happened and it felt very intentional, and personal.

Responsibilities

I often wonder if my leaving work to take care of my mental health was the right decision. I left work in April 2003 and it took me until fairly recently to loose MOST of the guilt for leaving work. I still struggle almost everyday with guilt about not working at something, or somewhere, but I think I have managed to almost drop the guilt about not working at the job I had.

I cannot shake the idea that I am a burden on society and that my not working is me being lazy, or not having the right direction, or simply not trying hard enough to get better. I was always an over achiever, but something happened to my ability, desire and my will to get back to work. Getting back to working seems like a completely overwhelming task.

I write this as, once again, I am dreading teaching my art classes this afternoon and tomorrow. Dr. X. says these things are work, but to me they are a tiny symbolic repayment for me and my lazy self being on disability. The volunteer work is a way for me to assuage my guilt about being paid to do nothing.

My volunteering to teach is not only that. I do also see it as behavioural therapy. Work a little and increase the work a little at a time until I can work the equivalent of at least four full time days a week for an extended period of time. When I can do that I feel I will be ready to work again.

The problem is my volunteering is only 2.5 hrs/two days a week and it completely exhausts me. Takes me down to the point that I am wondering if I should do it next term. Right now I am going to sleep for a few hours before my afternoon class. I feel like it is the only way I will manage to get there. That and the fact that I have responsibilities to go.

Responsibilities MAKE me do things. My puppy is a huge responsibility, but a good one. The puppy responsibilities, like feeding, cleaning, walking, training, socializing, and basically helping the puppy become a healthy, well behaved dog, are not always responsibilities I want to take on, or that I feel prepared for each day. There are many days when I lay in bed and wish I didn't have to get up and walk the dog, or feed the dog. However, I have no choice, unless I want to give the puppy away. That is not an option. I love him more than I dread the responsibilities. Maybe that is the key. Find responsibilities you love, more than the option of avoiding them.

On Saturday I knew I had to take my puppy out for both a long walk, and some socialization. He needs the stimulation, and the training in a stimulating environment. So I got us both in the car, and drove into the city to go to a gigantic park, with tons of off and on leash trails for dogs and people. (Although I didn't see any "on-leash" people")

There were people jogging, others walking with their kids, and we came upon a girl on a horse, and an infinite number of different breeds of dogs and their owners, both of which had equally infinite types of temperaments. It is important for my dog to meet and experience all kinds of people, see all sorts of things, experience all kinds of smells, sights, and sounds. These experiences, if they are positive, will shape who he becomes.

On the walk I brought my camera, because last time I walked through this forest I saw incredible mushrooms and other fungi...something I find intensely interesting and beautiful. I have no idea why these things capture my attention. Perhaps it is the sense that beauty can develop, grows and even thrive in an environment so full of decay. I want so badly to believe that the death of my old self, the decaying of my old life has a purpose.

I need to believe that like a dying Phoenix whose flames provide a means of rebirth to another, like the rotting leaves in the forests that provide food for the canopy above, and like the decomposing, disintegrating tree stumps that feed the birth and growth of toadstools, mushrooms and all manner of fungi, I need to believe that the change I see so much like a death in me is really a transfiguration; a metamorphosis into a life that embraces and lives a purposeful, meaningful and spiritual existence.

(All photos by Aqua)

"Happy" Anniversary

It has been seven years today since I first met with my pdoc, Dr. X. Despite all the psychic pain, anger, intense depression and anxiety I have endured over the past seven years I believe October 3, 2001 was the luckiest day of my life.

Before I wrote in my blog I consistently kept journals, in much the same way that I post here. Unfortunately I did not start a journal until a month or so after meeting Dr. X. I thought it would be interesting to look back to that first meeting.

My appointment was supposed to be a consultation to provide medication information to my family doctor as my depression had not reacted to two different medications, a CBT learning group, or a 3 month stint in group therapy and numerous attempts at therapy, the latest had been an unsuccessful two years in therapy. Dr. X was a mood disorders specialist.

I do not remember much about that first appointment. What I do remember is incredible fear as I waited in the waiting room. I had never seen a psychiatrist before (except in a group environment). I was terrified that I was going meet an authoritarian man, whose job it was to judge, diagnose, spit me out and send on my unmerry way afterwards. I thought I would end up one more sad statistic, unable to survive the increasingly despondent feelings I was feeling.

Instead the man I met was soft spoken, quiet and curious; kind and welcoming. I immediately felt comfortable telling him all kinds of incredibly personal things. He never rushed me; never made any judgements about any of the behaviours I described. Quite the opposite, he encouraged a sense that their was nothing unacceptable about my behaviours except the fact that I was in pain and being hurt by how I felt.

At the end of the session, rather than send me away and abandon me to the same treatments I had been struggling with for years, he asked if I would like to see him for therapy. Thank you Dr. X. for reaching out when I really needed someone like you to help me.

At the time I was having intense suicidal ideation. I often take the ferry to Vancouver Island because my whole family lives in various towns/cities over there. Something about the ferry triggers obbsessive suicidal thoughts. While n it I often feel compelled to jump overboard.

That night the thoughts were flying at me: I would slip quietly off the ferry into the thick black water. It was nightime and no one would notice me in the dark. No one would find me. I'd swim to see if I could make it to shore; searching for a sign that told me I was supposed to be here. Istead I pulled out my journal and wrote about what I would miss if I left this world.

It was one of my first journal entries after one of my earlier appointments . I believe I would not have even considered these things, or written them rather than jump, without Dr. X's support.

The things wrote I would miss are simple things that reflect who I am. I thought I would share my short, yet important list with you:

1. My family
2. That cool breeze that sweeps across your skin when you are really hot
3. The smell of the ocean-when the smell is the strongest at low tide
4. The feeling of the wind against my face when I ride my bike
5. The feeling of being emerged in water that is not too cool or too warm
6. Floating in that same water
7. The flowers in the garden: the giant purple clematic. the lilies, the sunflowers and peonies; all of them

I find it interesting that the same water I had just been thinking of dying in, became one of the things I would miss the most. (except the water here is pretty damn cold..tiny detail:) I would still miss these things, but would add to the list,
8. Dr. X.
9. My friends
10. My dog
11. My newfound love for creating art, especially painting

Dr. X. thanks for being there for me every single time I needed you. It means so much to me. I am a better person for having met you.