"O"!!!

"What is the message you have for me?" I asked this out loud, as I watched two crows fly over me. They fluttered to a landing spot directly in front of me; their glossy iridescent blue/black feathers shining brilliantly in the sun. As I stood there it seemed their message was to enjoy the company of others. Hmmm...

Later during this day a third crow flew down and landed in front of me. I asked again, "What message do you have for me?" He turned to me with an "O" in his beak...(maybe a Cheerio?), but an "O" nonetheless .

"O", I pondered. What does that mean?

I am making an effort to see differently than I have seen before. To listen to the messages. To see myself as part of the bigger picture.

That night I found myself still wide awake at 2:00am. For a week I had been eating a 1/4-1/3 of a marijuana cookie before bed to see if it would help me sleep. That night I had no cookie...and sleep was seemingly impossible.

I generally do not use pot. I had a couple bad experiences with it when I was younger...one that ended in my breaking my leg while fleeing pot induced "hallucinations"?/"visions". I was afraid to try it again, but in cookie form, and in small amounts I really am finding it helps my sleep both in terms of how long I stay asleep and how restful my sleep feels.

So, at 2:00am, laying in bed, with no sleep to be found I was feeling a bit desperate...so I ended up taking a BIG toke off a friends joint. Then I crawled into bed to try again.

As I lay there I began to feel like my throat was swelling up. I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. It seemed to be getting worse. I tried to get out of bed, but I couldn't move. It was like I was paralysed.

I began having "visions". Not hallucinations, but nightmare like thoughts...you know how while you are having a nightmare it seems real? Like that. I was being encased in a net like object? (or being?) that looked like thick mohair-like gray and black wool. It was holding me down on the bed.

I tried to call out to my boyfriend again and again, but no sound would come out of my mouth. I was unable to get up and help myself, my throat was swelling so much I was suffocating and I could not call for help.

My mind decided I was about to die. (REALLY!)...my brain thought this was the case.

I started to panic, but suddenly my brain said to me, "Death is inevitable. You have no choice. You wanted to die before. Let it go." Suddenly, I became so relaxed. I stopped worrying, let myself "die" . I felt incredible.

As I let go, stopped panicking, accepted my fate and my situation I felt myself able to breathe again. Ohhhhhhh...!

Stop fighting. Stop struggling. Accept my fate. Perhaps, this is the way; the path I need to follow. It seems so clear now that this is what the crow meant when it brought me the "O".

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.

What Motivates You?

On my last post, my second drawing lesson, Lola, from "Marine Snow" commented, "I wish I had the motivation to do something like this [the drawing exercises I was explaining], but at the moment am slipping into the staring at the wall type mood." I often get that blank wall, glazed over stare. I seem to spend much of my life in that mode; though I often stare dazed at the big tree outside too. Hugs Lola...I hope it passes quickly.

I have been doing quick sketches of the messes throughout what I call my house (it is actually a disaster zone). Dr. X. asked me to bring in photos of my messy house a few weeks ago, but I am just too embarrassed by how unbelieveably messy my house has become; and often becomes. I love a clean home, but the task of cleaning even a small portion of it is overwhelming and full of intense feelings of failure and shame. Yesterday I decided instead of photos I might bring in sketches of the distaster.

I laughed today as I walked by an 18" x 24" sketch of my computer desk and the pile of crap all over it (numerous books, all in different places, a hydro bill witing to be paid, numerous scraps of paper all, I am sure, containing something important...not sure what though, and they have been there forever, a dirty empty cereal bowl and spoon, an open and empty granola bar wrapper, small sketches on scraps of paper, a large comb, a phone, a short piece of lime green ribbon, a pen, numerous business cards I will never look at, cords for my electronic stuff that needs to hook up to the usb port periodically, an empty torn open envelope, a few paper napkins, a folded piece of paper with someone's e-mail on it, a spray bottle of hair straightening spray (I never use...my hair is straight...duh!), a webcam, an empty pill bottle...and the list goes on.

I began to laugh because the irony was not lost on me that had I spent my energy cleaning up, instead of sketching, the mess, I would have no mess to sketch...hmmm. Why didn't I have the energy, motivation, or willpower to just clean it up instead of closely observing and drawing it? Too strange.

I guess it meant more to me to use the energy I had to draw, than it did to clean up. How do most people manage to do both their chores and their hobbies?

What Do You Do: Are You Valuable?

A few days ago I went to the optometrist. A task I have been trying to get myself to do for more than a year now. Fortuitously, or not, my dog tried to eat my husband's glasses and I ended up at a glasses repair shop that had optometrists on site, so I booked an appointment and, because I have an intense sense of responsibility, despite not wanting to go when the time came to show up, I went and saw the optometrist anyways.

That is not the point of this post. Part of the point is WHY I do not want to see any health professionals outside my pdoc. It is because after the greetings, the first question out of their mouths is always, "are you healthy?"

My head always swirls with this question...my first thought always being, "I am desperately unhealthy if you include mental health as part of health. Then, "do they need to know about that?" Then, "well it would be lying to say I was healthy, should I lie?" Then, "but I don't want anyone to know I am WEAK" (argh... i.e. all that fear of discrimination, sense that I am doing this (my depression) to myself. It's my fault. If I wanted to change I would. I am such a loser for being like this." Then finally, "if I tell anyone they will think all these things about me too."

So I falter, and do not know how to answer the question. The Optometrist picks up on this and pushes from another direction, "Are you on any medications?" I feel so stressed out now, because as soon as I tell him my medications he will know I am a complete loser. I become hot, and I can feel my face become red. Embarrassment sets in. I list my medications, "Prozac, Tegretol, Valium, and Dexedrine". It is obvious to him now, that my hidden secret is out: I am mentally unstable. I feel little in the room; an "unperson".

Why? I do not feel this about anyone else with a mental illness. Just me. I don't get how I can be an advocate in so many ways for people with mental illnesses, yet feel as though I am less because of mine. I know that a huge part of it is that I feel devalued. I feel because I am not working I am incurring a huge debt to society. I am less worthy than others. I am, in fact, less than what people expect a person to be. These thoughts are drilled into my head. I can try to get rid of them. I can try to move beyond them by writing like I did in my last post, but they are always nagging me. They never go away.

Last night I thought about this picture. It is me, as a child, feeding the pigeons. I am certain that people found me valuable then. I am 100% sure that a little girl feeding the pigeons, a little girl doing what brought her joy, was a beautiful sight to others. I am sure no one was watching me and thinking, "That little girl should stop all this fun and enjoyment and get onto something more serious in her life". I am sure others would have seen me as valuable despite my not working.

What is it about children that makes the inherently valuable in a way that adults are not? Why would we never ask a child, "WHAT do you do?" Rather we might ask them, "What do you LIKE to do?

Why are adults so readily judged by the question, "what do you do? Why do we judge ourselves that way? Why am I obsessed with getting a job? Why can't I get that a job may follow a period of doing things I love to do, things that create meaning and purpose in my life. Why can't I get that a job is just one important aspect of life. Why can't I learn, or believe that a job CAN be simply a means to an end? Why can't I manage to give less power to the idea that a job is the what creates meaning and purpose for me?

Part of it is societal norms. Almost the first question out of a person's mouth when they first meet you is "What do you do?": As though with that information they will know everything they need to know about you.

When I was a banker I dreaded this question, because saying "I am a banker" elicits all kinds of stereotypes about who I am, and I was not those stereotypes, or if I was those stereotypes were the parts of me that I hated the most. The entire time I was a banker it was as though I was being the opposite of how I saw myself. The opposite of who I wanted to be, who I imagined I would grow into. I dread the question even more now that I am off work.

I have always fancied answering the question, "What do you do?" in another way: "I draw, and paint. I like to dance and listen to music. I love watching quirky crime drama's. I have a pretty good voice and I love to sing. I like the idea of tradition, but believe we need to envelope new ideas to. I write a blog. I absolutely love to read and learn. I volunteer at a mental health arts facility. I love to hang out with my sisters. I love my nieces and my sisters. I enjoy going out for breakfast with a friend, or going for long walks on the beach or in the woods. I love to garden, canoe and go camping. The problem is, for a long time, I have had trouble consistently doing and enjoying any of the things I "enjoy".

Of course, I love my sisters and nieces, but leaving home to visit them is frightening and exhausting. I am always afraid I won't be able to manage being away from home. I no longer garden, or hike, or camp, or canoe...I cannot muster the energy. I cannot seem to read. Yesterday I tried to read a book that I started a month ago. I knew I had read some of it before, but could not remember where I had read to so I began again. I remembered parts of chapter one and then nothing until I came to Chapter 6 (page 63)...I had read all the way to there before and remembered nothing except that I had read a part of chapter one. How is that possible? Anyways, my point being I don't even truly enjoy all the things I enjoy anymore.

I just don't get why, after years, and years, and years of therapy I can't accept my predicament; accept the life I have fallen into; accept that I am a different person and somehow learn that I am still as valuable as I was when I was that little girl feeding the birds.

Loving Kindness Meditation

I don't know why I sometimes get so much anxiety before my pdoc appointments . I always look forward to meeting with Dr. X. I love sitting in the chair across from him. Generally, within a few minutes of sitting in his office, even if I am really stressed out, I feel a calming effect coming from him and his side of the room. That happened on Thursday.

My appointment began with me feeling intensely stressed, but I soon became aware of what was happening (that I was anxious), and that awareness helped me refocus. I'm not sure what helped me become aware.

Maybe it was Dr. X wittingly, or unwittingly, wrapping me in calmness. In a way, it feels like a Buddhist "Loving Kindness meditation" taken to the next level, the level of practice, when I sit across from him.

So many of us are compassionate and loving beings. Unfortunately, to often, for me anyways, my depression, anxiety, mood swings and frustration with not becoming well, or remaining ill take over my compassion and I become anxious or angry.

A good example is how I sometimes become filled with road rage at small indignities done (of course from my perspective TO ME), by other drivers. The driver who races to the front of the left lane and then butts in right at the front, while all of us other driver's patiently wait our turn, or the driver that cuts me off, or races past me at mach speed. I become angry sitting in my car and the anger begins to turn into anxiety.

Why do I do this? I have been really trying to let go of this rage, and accept that others may have good reasons for doing what they do, or there may be a reason I do not know that makes them need to get somewhere faster than everyone else. I have no idea what is happening in the person's life to make them need to get to the front of the line faster than anyone else.

I remember a story from when my mom was dying. She was visiting me and suddenly began going into shock. We dialed 911 and the ambulance took her to the hospital. At the hospital the Dr. told us that they believed she had sepsis(?), that she had infection raging through her body and she was going to die that night.

I called my sister's to come over. My one sister had to fly from the island. She had 10 minutes to get to the airport or she would miss the last plane. She lives in the country and was racing down the road when she came upon her neighbours car in front of her. She tried to pass him, but he kept driving into the middle of the road to stop her passing. He also slowed to a speed well below the speed limit to physically force her to slow her down. She began honking and flashing her lights to no avail. Finally she managed to pass him despite his efforts to "keep her in line". She was mad as hell, but she made the plane, and managed to see my Mom, who pulled through for another month.

What if she had missed the plane because this man tried to aggressively stop her from passing him. What if she had missed the plane and my Mom had died before she was able to say goodbye? He may be right in that the speed limit was lower than she needed to go, but he had no idea how important her race down the road was. I try now to let go and to understand that I only see the behaviour, I don't see WHY people are behaving the way they do. I try to be more compassionate.

Dr. X. just seems to live and breathe compassion. I do not think I have ever heard him say anything negative about anyone. My Mom was like that to. The only other person I met like that was my grade 12 English teacher. He was a Buddhist and he was calm in the face of daily interaction with a bunch of riotous teenagers. It always amazed me.

On Thursday, part way through my session I felt my body relax, my hands stop twirling my hair and tapping my eyebrow (this is a strange habit I picked up over the past few years when I'm really stressed. Either that or I did it before and was unaware of it), my shoulders and arms became relaxed, and I leaned back in the chair. I suddenly felt calm. It felt like the presence of Dr. X was making me calm. It reminded me of the power of a Buddhist "Loving Kindness" meditation. He seems like loving kindness personified.

A Loving Kindness meditation is meant to fill your heart with compassion and love for yourself and then extend it towards all other beings.

• In the loving kindness meditation I know you begin by imagining yourself wrapping yourself in warm white light. You say to yourself, "may I be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy , well and happy.
• You then think of someone who is a mentor or leader to you, and you take the warm white light that is wrapped around you and you extend it to surround them, and you say out loud, or in your head, e.g. "May Dr X. be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• Then you extend the white light to wrap around yourself, your mentor and someone you love, and repeat the mantra, "May (my loved person) be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• You then think of someone you are having difficulty with and you then extend that radiant warm white light around the person you are having difficulty with and say, may (the person you are having troubles with) be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• then wrap the light around all the beings in your family and repeat: may all beings in my family be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"

Then you continue to increase the size and magnitude of the warm white light and wrap it around:

• All beings in the house: "May all beings in this house be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• All the beings/people in the building: "May all beings in this building be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• All the beings on the block:" May all beings on my block be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• All the beings in your city: "May all beings in my town or city be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• All the beings in your country: "May all beings in my country be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• All the beings on the continent: "May all beings on this continent be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• All the beings in the world: "May all beings in this world be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"
• and finally out into space: "May all beings in the universe be filled with loving kindness, and be healthy, well and happy"

Note the meditation is embracing all "beings", not just people. I would suggest beings in my version of the meditation includes all life; plants and animals, the ocean, the lakes and rivers, and also all the earth, space, planets and universe. The meditation is a means for a person to embrace all beings lovingly and compassionately in their mind. It feels really good to do.

The more I do this meditation the more compassionate I feel. When I do it my anger towards others subsides and I begin to recognize that we all struggle, we all want health and love and wellness, and we all deserve love and compassion.

Sleep Deprivation and Mood

As part of a "Fatigue Busters" plan, a plan than entails removing anything from my life that is making me exhausted, listless tired etc., I am slowly (trying) to wean myself of Valium. I am not on a large dose, but have been taking benzodiazepines for a great deal of the time I have been in this Depressive Episode.

It may sound stupid to take a depressant when you are depressed, but a huge component of my depression, or something that makes my depression worse is anxiety. Valium really helps relieve me of much of my anxiety.

The problem is it comes with a price. Dr. X. uses the metaphor of a credit card. You use it upfront to get what you desire, but you always need to pay it back.

He's right. Going off Valium is always an ordeal for me. I managed to go from 15mgs to 10 mgs over a week and that seemed okay. I hadn't been sleeping well anyways, so never really noticed the difference. I am now taking it down to 7.5 mgs, which may not seem like much of a difference, but I pretty much haven't slept more than 2-3 hours a night since I started taking only 7.5mgs.

The not sleeping is bring on an unexpected side effect. One I know can happen with decreased sleep, but unexpected nonetheless. I feel my mood lifting a bit this morning. To the point that I bounced out of bed at 7:30, read the paper and then went for a walk in the blueberry field.

I saw the intense beauty of the flame coloured bushes enveloped in fog and encased in frost. I watched as the sun lifted the fog and the frost began to melt. In the field I saw the life force slowly returning to the crisp green grass.

I gazed in a dreamlike state as the warmth and melting frost began returning the quick to the blooms of the requisite dandelions strewn amongst the bushes, grasping for one last chance to bloom and turn to seed, thereby enabling them to release their parachuting progeny into the wind; ensuring a return of their children to life in the spring ahead.

I stared intently as the drifting, disappearing frost melted in conjunction with the rising sun. An unnatural parallel line appeared to be dividing the field in two: On one side the red leaves on the blueberry bushes appeared as flames, the richness of the red enhanced by the dampness left behind by the melted frost, the flaming red colour rising and racing across the frosted blueberry bushes.

On the other side of the line the leaves of the bushes stood at attention; cold, deathly silent, stiff, and ice encased. The red was hidden. Instead of flaming red the frosty army of bushes appeared pink because of the combined colours of red leaves and white frost.

As the moments passed the sun became warmer and more intense. Red flames roared faster and faster towards the pink army; an army that stood defenseless and silent in the face of the oncoming heat of the sun. The frost melting more quickly with the passing of time.

I raced home to get my camera, because I was awestruck and wanted to share the blueberry bushes joyous return to life. It felt like I was returning to life with each waking bush.

The moment had passed. My camera was too late. That moment is however, captured in my mind as a beautiful moment in a difficult life. If I were not here the moment, as I experienced it, would not have existed. I will remember those moments are worth living for.

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.

One of Those Therapy Sessions...

I just got back from one of those therapy sessions that left me feeling cared for, honoured and understood. I went in exhausted...from all that puppy love, but also from a personal situation that has gone in a tough direction.

It doesn't matter what the situation is only that I was able to talk really openly about what I was feeling, and how I was trying to manage the hurt. I asked Dr. X to be really open and honest with me about my communication style. I wanted to hear if I'm doing something wrong.

Often I will ask things like that and I will get positive reinforcement and then I just chalk that positive reinforcement up to his being my pdoc, my therapist, my coach, etc.. I often think he is saying nice things just to help build my self-esteem.

It did not feel like that today. I asked him if he was just saying what he said and, (like always when I ask that question), he said he would tell me the truth and be honest. Usually I am suspicious about this being the case. I never felt that today. I felt like he was a friend willing to tell me both my positive traits, but also my faults, or where I could improve. It felt good to trust.

I now believe he will always be honest. Something about the session today made me BELIEVE that, not just hear it. I like that. I want a straight up relationship. I cannot heal if I fear I am being lied to, either explicitly, or by omission. I cannot change my behaviours if I fear I am being placated, rather than honoured with the truth; even if the truth is difficult to hear.

I need to know myself. Sometimes it takes an other's eyes and ears to help me see that self. I need to understanding clearly, who I am, and how my being the way I am impacts others. I want to improve my communication skills so my social anxiety will lessen. I want to move through this life in in a loving and caring manner, but I also need to learn to say no when I have to in order to care for myself.

Anyways, today was a great session. I feel blessed to be able to continue seeing Dr. X. I hope in my life I can find a job where I am both gifted at what I do and enjoy what I do. From my experiences with Dr. X. I believe he is blessed with those two things. I know that finding a meaningful job, one that I am good at and where I feel can make a difference to someone else, would bring me to that state of being too. I am praying for that day to come. That will be the day I am well.

The Slow Pace of Acceptance and Change

I am so tired I feel literally sick, but I cannot sleep. 1:30am wide awake, 2:30, 3:30, 4:30 still wide awake. I started taking a low dose of Trazadone on top of everything else, but it hasn't helped me sleep and makes me feel really awful in the morning. Even more tired than before.

Part of it is the puppy, but I wasn't sleeping even before I knew of or brought the puppy home. Unfortunately, it's not that, "I feel so happy/wired I can't sleep". The kind that happens when my mood shoots up.

No, this sleep is my old, "I have a millions ruminations going through my head and my mind won't shut up, so I can't sleep" insomnia.

Today was my first day teaching a "Teen Group" at the Art Clubhouse. It was during the hours I regularly take a nap 4-6/7. I was so tired, until I began and then my enthusiasm and energy kicked in. Thank god. The class was really good and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I also have a really great helper...which makes such a difference...YAY!

I see so many improvements in my life over the past few months. Actually, I look back, and even before any medication helped me I now recognize that I have been slowly improving over the past few years. The problem is the lability in my mood is such that when I feel good I feel I will always be perfectly well, but when I crash I feel like I am never going to be well.

I am trying really hard to accept I have a mental illness; to say to myself, "My fatigue is a symptom (of the medicine or the illness...who knows), my memory problems, concentration and word finding problems. my sleeplessness and sleepiness...they are all symptoms. Are these better than wanting to die all the time? Yes.

So life is improving, but I am trying to allow myself to accept that life has changed dramatically for me, and needs to change even more for me to become "well" (whatever that means). I am a different person because of the experiences with depression and anxiety I have gone through over the years. My functioning is different than it was. That is hard to accept.

I truly believe my old life is gone. I think my last wolf dream told me that, but my new life is just beginning and hopefully despite the side effects/residual symptoms it will be a life worth living.

I may fall into a depression again, but I think I have some skills now that I didn't have before, and I have a pdoc I trust and know is right for me. I know he will help me even if I get fully well and become sick later on. I also am working hard at integrating myself into a community that matters to me.

So I'm sickly tired, but I am much better off than I was. My being able to say that proves the point. I think my Mom sent me my new puppy as a symbol of the beginning of my new life. The black wolf killed the old me, and the white dog will protect and help the new me grow.

I say my Mom instigated the change, because my puppy came from a breeder named "Casamoonen". Casa means house...I see the name as "house of the moon". My sisters and I all decided when my mom died she became the moon. (which is full tonight by the way). Every night I step outside and see the moon and say hello to my Mom. My new puppy was sent to me by her. I believe that. He is a messenger sent to help me with my transition into my new life.

It is strange how I get sent all these messages in dreams, in life, in everything around me. Does this happen to others? Do you get sent messages that you feel compelled to heed or follow? It happens too often for me to ignore.

Please Welcome My Newest Family Member

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Please welcome the newest member of my family into our community:

...drum roll please...
My new puppy is 12 weeks old and he is at my sister's now. She says he is a great puppy; calm, sweet and well behaved (we will see how long that lasts!!). My nieces have been walking him around on a leash, He slept through the night. Wow this might be easier than I thought??? (Probably not!) I pick him up on Tuesday.

Please welcome my adorable puppy into my community of friends.

Creating a Community For Myself: Part 2

My last post about this topic was a bit long winded...so here is a brief overview of both why I think all I said needed to be said, and the major points that I found important for myself (and I hope for others) while I was writing the piece.

There are so many aspects of "creating a community" that are helping me and, I think can help others who are having difficulty with their mental illness, gain some hope. I think some of the most important points in the previous post "Creating a Community for Myself: My Path towards Resiliency" are:

1. That my illness has been refractory to all treatments and has been severe (I hope that will help others in similar situations see it is possible to begin the healing process, even if other treatments aren't working). It is not as though I had/have an easy illness to treat or help. I know when I was/am really ill I get really annoyed when people, whose illnesses seemed less aggressive than mine, wrote uplifting pieces about how they "healed" themselves. I never felt they spoke to me. I wanted others to see it is possible to really be struggling with symptoms and, with enough of the right support and structures in place, still manage to help themselves.

2. That I had to try many things and make many attempts before I began to feel comfortable and confident. Creating a community has not been easy and has been fraught with setbacks...but with the support of my psychiatrist, and finally the community I fit into, I have been able to keep trying.

3. That external motivation was one of the most important forces that helped me succeed. I didn't succeed because of will power. I succeeded because I had responsibilities, schedules, expectations and tons and tons of non-judgemental support , from my pdoc, my new found community, the Occupational Therapist who believed in me and took me on as an apprentice.

4. That there is a sense of spiritual connection and personal feelings of being valued that helps one begin the healing process when they find, accept , create and become involved in, the community that is right for them.

I am not saying this discovery has "cured me", or "healed me"...but it is definitely increasing my quality of life and my ability, and desire to live with, and in spite of, my mental illness and its disabling symptoms.

The Photographer in Me

July 2006, In memory of my Mom the summer following her death I planted dark flowers all over my deck; almost purple/black salvia, and deep purple heliotropes and I found this deep, dark colour of nasturtiums and planted them everywhere. My Mom absolutely loved nasturtiums and I absolutely loved my Mom. I love this photo. It feels so solitary, yet peaceful.

I have a thing for fungi. I love all the different kinds of mushrooms, toadstools, and fungus I find everywhere. You have to click on this image to make it huge to appreciate the beauty and perfection of these tiny fungi.

I took this in December last year (2007). I was walking my dog Bert in the blueberry field, as I turned the corner the sky in front of me turned black, but the sun shone intensely behind me. I ran all the way back to the house (few acres) to get my camera, because the light behind me was bouncing off the the white bark of the birch trees and they were almost glowing in front of the black sky. The dark and light intensified the red in the wintering blueberry bushes, and the green of the moss. It was not quite as dramatic by the time I made it back with my camera to take the picture, but I still love the contrast and intensity of the red and green.

This is a similar shot, and only a week or so later. I liked the contrast of the dark sky against the snow and again the intensity of the fiery red blueberry bushes.

In my photography I try to relay my spiritual connection to the natural world. Nature always astounds me with her variety, her perfection and the ingenuity with which she encourages and brings things to life, but also in the beautiful ways she assists in the process of death and decay; which itself becomes imperative for her process of renewal. She is pure poetry.

Today is My New Birthday

(Photo: by Aqua, "Transformation", August 2008)

In respect of, and to reinforce the powerful message, Wednesday's dream , "The Wolf Returns", sent me: Today I am changing my life. I am throwing away the old me and moving in a different direction. From this day forward I am reborn.

I will never feel any remorse or guilt over anything I did in the past. I accept that I did what I was able to do at the time. I will never again feel guilt for being depressed, or on disability for depression. I will accept that I did not cause this illness. It happened and all I can be expected to do is try to make myself feel better. I will also accept that sometimes my illness makes it difficult to do anything to help myself. During those times I will do whatever I CAN do to keep trying.

As of today here is the new me:

• I am a painter.
• I am an artist.
• I am a writer.
• I am an art teacher.
• I am a photographer.
• I am creative.
• I am disabled by my depression right now, but I am NOT my disability.
• I will accept my disability income as a blessing and a gift that allows me the opportunity to grow into the human being I am meant to become.
• I will be here today, and present now.
• I will not worry about tomorrow.
• I will soak up today.
• I will see all the beauty in the world, like a new child, through my new eyes.
• My life will be full of beauty, and I will recognize that.
• My new life will be full of love and I will pass that on.
• My new life will be full of compassion, for myself and for others.
• I will accept my mental illness as the catalyst, the mother and the origin of, my new and improved life.
• I will embrace my depression like a mother embraces a crying child. I will hold it, and care for it, and accept that the crying may pass, or it may not, but the crying child is always a beautiful being trying to express his or her needs to the world.

The Wolf Returns

(Photo by Aqua, Grey Wolf at Grouse Mountain)


I could not both get to sleep and stay asleep on Wednesday night. My anxiety is increasing and with that my sleep is getting worse again. I slept in snippets of a half hour here, and an hour there. After a pattern of waking and sleeping I woke at 4:30am and finally must have fallen asleep sometime between 6 and 7:00am, because I had an awful nightmare right before waking to go see my pdoc.

I dreamt my two sisters and I climbed towards the top of a mountain. The final climb was a set of stairs that zig-zagged up to the top of the mountain. Atop the mountain was a huge modern building, not unlike the building I used to work in.

We went inside and instantaneously I began being attacked by 3 coyotes who were trying to bring me to the ground so their big, pure black wolf companion could finish me off. I was trying to protect my sisters, but none of the canines seemed interested in them. The coyotes kept grabbing my hands and arms, and trying to attack my head; kept trying to force me to the ground. All the while the black wolf was stalking me, waiting for me to slip to the ground so he could pounce on me. I kept fighting back, calling to my sisters to help. It appeared no one would help me.

Suddenly I looked up and my sisters were behind a counter with the coyotes on the other side. My siblings were negotiating our release with the coyotes and offering them food in return for our safe escape. The coyotes agreed and told my sisters to leave through one door and me to leave through another a bit farther down the hall.

I saw my sister's safely on the outside of the building, but as I went to go out my door I saw the black wolf standing on the other side of the glass door; waiting to kill me. The coyotes told me to open the door and let the wolf in, quickly slip out and slam the door shut.

I did what they said, and the wolf slipped in, and I out. However, as I shut the door I quickly realized that the door opened outwards and it would be easy for the wolf to simply push the door open and come after me. I saw my sisters had disappeared and knew they were safe.

I began to run in terror. The wolf pushed the door open and began chasing me down the stairs. I was running so fast my feet were not touching the stairs. I was hanging onto the handrail and leaping from stair landing to stair landing. Each landing was 6 stairs apart. I was becoming dizzy from the switchback like staircase. I misjudged one of the landings and flew over the railing and into the abyss of the mountain gorge below.

The wolf followed me, but I was dead before he got to me.

I woke absolutely terrified.

Interpretation ideas?

The Coyotes: They are trickster figures. Figures who, in North American First Nations mythology, facilitate our seeing the lighter side of life, who sometimes have noble purposes, but also sometimes are playing with us and can be cruel. They represent the uncertainty of life, the uncertainty of the direction life can take us. They can bring light to dark situations (in fact the Raven...a trickster figure in Westcoast First Nation's mythology tricked a princess into opening a box that contained the sun, thereby releasing light into the world. ("The Raven Stealing the Sun" myth).

I run into coyotes on our farm all the time. They are a symbol of hope for me. They seem to appear when I am desperately depressed and need a reminder that I can survive this illness. It seems strange that they seemed to be doing the opposite in my dream..trying to facilitate my death. Although maybe my death is the only hope I have?

Or maybe they are referencing my being saved by a symbolic death? The death of my old life; the life I keep clinging to, the life that drags into feeling guilty for the new life I am trying to make for myself? My change from doing what I think is right, into having a life filled with doing what I WANT to do.

I know in the dream I wanted to survive. I fought and fought when the coyotes were trying to bring me down (but maybe I was fighting there lesson to allow my symbolic death, my important change, to happen. I ran hard from the wolf to try to save myself. It just did not work. I died anyways...and not even from the wolf, from a mistake I made. (my misjudgement of where the stair's landing was.

The Wolf: He has never appeared to me as pure black before. Throughout the dream I knew and felt it was symbolically important that he was pure black. He was impending doom, stealth and pure fear. He was patient in his efforts to bring me down. He waited, not once interrupting the coyotes efforts to drag me to the ground. He was over confident that he would succeed in killing me one way or another.

Dr. X and I discussed my dream. He said I needed to challenge the wolf. I get that, but what is it I am supposed to challenge? What does the wolf represent? If it is death, that is an inevitability...it would be futile. It could be my depression...but I don't know how to challenge it any more than I do. This dream is haunting me. It is telling me something. It feels so important. I cannot stop thinking about it.

Maybe the challenge is to STOP challenging the inevitability of real death (and the impending fear attached to that that comes from feeling like I will not achieve what I need to achieve, (.i.e. death anxiety) which is the cause of much of my life's anxiety and I think my depression. I fear I will not complete my purpose on earth.

Maybe the challenge is to ACCEPT my symbolic death, the death of my previous life, the fact that I am changed by my depression, by the difficult experiences I have encountered with each Major Depressive Episode...especially this latest one. I am changed. My old life is dead. Let it go. Move on bravely to my new life.

The wolf is black, because unlike all the other frightening wolves in my dreams who chase me and try to kill me and never quite succeed; this wolf succeeded, and the death of my old life is FINAL.

What Makes me Canadian...and proud of it

New and Improved Version: I fixed the links that weren't working before...enjoy!

Happy Birthday Canada

A number of years ago, back in university and anthropology professor assigned us an essay topic: How do you define what it is to be Canadian? Today being Canada Day ( this year we celebrate our 141st anniversary of Confederation), I thought I'd tell you 100 things that make me love being a Canadian. (this might be very difficult) (okay I only made it to 71 (bit over half of 141), but still pretty good.

1) Neil Young is Canadian...and he rocks! I love Neil Young.
2) I have lived literally from coast to coast...I've lived in Newfoundland and all the way to Vancouver Island...and everywhere in between.
3) I moved to Banff right out of high school. Banff is surrounded by the Canadian Rockies and is the iconic (albeit tourist related) "Canadian Wilderness".
4) I can tell the difference between a deer, a caribou, and elk and a moose.
5) I can tell the difference between a black bear and a grizzly and know what to do if I encounter either: Try to slowly back away from both. While doing that talk in a calm smooth voice to the bear. Do not make eye contact. Do not throw your back pack away...it will protect your back/neck/head if you need it. If all else fails play dead and protect your back, neck and head. DO NOT RUN...grizzlies have been clocked doing 50 km/hr...you will not outrun a bear.
Preferable tactic: Do not run into bears. Make lots of noise while hiking, bear bells don't work...and may actually increase your chances of being attacked because the sound makes the bears curious.
6) I know the song formerly known as "the Hockey Night in Canada song" Dun, du, dun, du dah; Dun, du, dun, du dah; dun, du, da, da dada..."etc. (you have to be Canadian to get it)
7) I know what it is like to drive across the prairies, and drive, and drive, and drive ad infinitum.

8) I know the word "Eskimo" is not politically correct...It's "Inuit"
9) I went camping almost every summer as a child. My Dad was a "Dogmaster" with the RCMP, which means he was a police dog handler, and had spent many many hours for years tracking lost people, or people who did not want to be found. He taught us to love and respect the wilderness. These times were some of my happiest.
10) I know that the Europeans called the First Nations People "Indians" because when they landed in Canada they thought they had arrived in India...Duh!
11) I can name all 10 provinces and 3 territories (I actually KNOW we have 3 territories).
12) I have been snowshoeing many, many times as a child.
13) Downhill skiing is a favourite winter pastime for many Canadians...and I'm one of them.
14) I actually understand the rules of Hockey, and the point of the game (I can't say that for any other group sport except maybe water polo)
15) I have participated in that great Canadian coming of age game: "Beer chugging"
16) I know it is pronounced Nefeunland, not NEW FOUND LAND.
17) I know what the Common Wealth is.
18) I love the Queen...even though it is a bunch of pomp and pageantry. I think it's a quaint tradition, and I want to continue participating in that pageantry.
19) Gordon Lightfoot is Canadian...who can beat the iconic "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald as a classic Canadian song. (This video has some great pictures of Canada, its people and the power of the ocean)
20) Joni Mitchell is Canadian. I love Joni Mitchell. I love her song "Big Yellow Taxi" and have been singing it (and can achieve the highs AND lows in the song) and playing it on my guitar for the past few weeks. My Mom used to sing Joni Mitchell's songs to us when we were kids.
22) I know how to survive (and get found) if lost in the woods.
23) Camping is a favourite pass time of mine
24) As is Canoeing
25) I know Canada has more Bald Eagles than the US...Should have been our national symbol
26) Our national symbol is the beaver...almost everyone snickers about that.
27) I have seen the fossils at Drumheller Alberta...a very cool place to visit.
28) Unlike my fellow Ontario countrymen who believe the world revolves around Toronto...I know everyone would rather live in Vancouver...hip, warm, artsy, laid back,tons of beaches, mountains...we have it all.
29) I have seen whirlpools in the ocean big enough to swallow a huge boat.
30) I know what "Skookum" means.
31) I love smoked salmon.
32) I BBQ all year round.
33) I love maple syrup...and use it in everything from salad dressings to marinades and of course on pancakes.
34) I can make a beautiful snow angel.
35) I have seen mosquitoes as big as my hand in Winnipeg, Manitoba (well maybe that's an exaggeration, but they are pretty damn big)
36) I have lived near the Columbia and the Fraser rivers..two of Canada's most famous rivers.
37) I know what the "Great Divide" (or Continental Divide) is. It is a line across Canada where on one side the rivers run towards the Atlantic ocean, and on the other side they run towards the Pacific ocean (no lie)
38) Even though I'm a pacifist, I am proud of our Veterans in World War I and II. My Dad said almost anywhere he went in Europe people spoke fondly of Canadians and their contribution to winning those wars.
39) "Oooh..your Canadian let me help you". Once people in Europe realized I was Canadian and not American..their whole attitude changed; suddenly I became part of the family.
40) I speak "Franglais" a sort of brutalized anglicized version of french. Bonjour Madame parlez-vous English...PLEASE???
41) Despite my difficulties learning French (It is the only course I have ever failed in my entire life...I took it again and passed though). I am glad we have two official languages, and when I've been to Quebec I try really hard to speak French...but I am really bad at it. At least I try.
42) I have built an igloo.
43) I have made and eaten Bannock.
44) I have ice skated on numerous frozen ponds, including one year on the pond on the farm (it is unheard of for it to get cold enough, long enough for that to happen here in Vancouver, but one year it did.
45) I know that what we call a creek in B.C. is actually a "brook" in Newfoundland.
46) I have seen killer whales up close in the wild. They are so beautiful it is indescribable.
47) I love the Vancouver Canucks (even though I'm not a big hockey fan).
48) I know that "football" in Canada is that game where ridiculously huge men bend over a lot and try to do something with a pointed spherical (sort of) shaped ball: A game, the rules of which, only about 100 people in all of Canada understand while the rest pretend to understand.
49) I have been to Magnetic Hill in New Brunswick...it's a road where it seems as though you are going uphill, when really you are going downhill. It has some kind of optical illusion properties so if you park in neutral at the foot of the hill your car actually rolls "uphill".
50) I love lobster
51) I've seen many icebergs off the coast of Newfoundland.
52) I have lived in 5 different Provinces.
53) My father is retired from Canada's iconic police force: the RCMP. He was a member for more than 40 years. Three other family members are , or are retired, from in the RCMP. It is a family tradition
54) I skied in the Canadian Rockies many times as a kid...Jasper, Banff, Lake Louise. Great ski hills.
55) You see nature everywhere, even in the city. I saw a coyote cross 57th and Victoria; a very busy major intersection. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing too.
56) Blueberries in B.C. are on really tall bushes, where the pickers often need to use step stools to reach the top berries. In Ontario and the Maritimes the blueberry bushes are short and you have to bend over to pick them.
57) In one day I can swim in the ocean, sail, go play golf and drive up to the mountains to go skiing at Whistler/Blackcomb...that's how close this city is to everything.
58) If you like to swim outdoors "Kit's Pool" in Vancouver is the longest pool in Canada...137 Metres, and it is a salt water pool.
59) I actually know the words to our national anthem..." O Canada". A huge number of Canadians have no idea...they changed it in the 1970's and it confused everybody.
60) I know all sorts of names for snow: sleet, slush, powder, crunchy, wet, dry, snowstorm, blizzard...the list goes on.
61) I have been caught in a blizzard before, when I was young, 8 or 9. I thought I was going to die. I couldn't see where I was going and it was minus 40.
62) I lived on a farm in the prairies as a child and we had horses, ducks, chickens, geese (all pets of course). We had to hand carry water down to the barn and it was hell in the wintertime, but I still look back at that period of my life and think it was idyllic.
63) I've shot tin cans off the fence with a rifle when I was a kid (under my Dad's careful supervision of course)
64) Hand guns are illegal in Canada...Hallelujah
65) Speaking of which...k.d.lang is Canadian. Her version of "Hallelujah" is awe inspiring.
66) and on that note: Leonard Cohen (who wrote "Hallelujah") is Canadian too. His poetry and his music is haunting. This you tube video of "Suzanne" has subtitles (dutch maybe?)
67) Robertson Davies was Canadian. His book "The Deptford Trilogy" , made up of three books (Fifth Business, The Manticore and World of Wonders), it is a marvel of a book.
68) Margaret Atwood is another great Canadian Writer.
69) as is Rohinton Mistry (while born in Mumbai, India, he immigrated to Canada in 1975). His book: "A Fine Balance" is one of the best books I have ever read.
70) In Canada we have a public medical system. This means we all have access to the health system. While all you ever hear is the negative news about public health care, I have always had the best care and feel blessed to live in a country that cares for its citizens in this way.
71) and finally...I love that Canada has adopted a multicultural approach to its people and its new immigrants and not a melting pot approach. Existing and new Canadians are encouraged to keep there beliefs, and practice their cultural traditions as opposed to being pushed to assimilate into becoming a typical "Canadian". That is the great thing...there is no such thing as a typical Canadian. This is what makes this country so interesting and continually fascinating.


We all came from different places, different backgrounds; some like our first nations people have lived here for centuries, and some of us may have entered this country today. We are a great and fantastically interesting mix of cultures, religions, and peoples who hold one thing dear to our hearts, our freedom and our democracy...and if you ever watched the Canadian parlimentary channel...you know how much they fight to ensure democracy sticks around.

I love being a Canadian.

(oh yeah...and # 72..."Canadian Girls Kick Ass"

Managing my Depression Getting Through the Toughest Days

In a previous post I welcomed my 5000th visitor to ask me a question, or suggest a topic for a post. Deepblue being my 5000th visitor posed the question/s:

"I guess the question I'd have to ask is: what has been the most helpful thing you have done to help manage your depression? or, how do you get through your
toughest days? I guess you can answer either of those".

I am not sure how long Deepblue has been following my blog, or what s/he knows about my situation. I have had Major Depressive Episodes (MDE) since I was 17 or 18. I always managed to pull out of them either on my own, or with a small amount of counselling, until I was 31 or 32 (I'm now 42). At that time I sought long term counselling (2 years/once a week), and then I was referred to an outpatient Cognitive Behavioural Training (CBT) group and then a group therapy program, both of which did not help me at all. I had tried CBT in therapy when my MDE's were mild to moderate, but this time my depression was become far worse than ever before. For about a year my MDE went into remission on it's own (with some residual symptoms...not sleeping, irritable, fatigue).

In the summer of 2001 I became despondent and requested more help from my family Dr. She referred me to the Mood Disorders Clinic and on October 3, 2001 I met my pdoc. He invited me to become his patient. I knew as soon as I began talking with him, that were a perfect match. I agreed and began seeing him for therapy and a search for medications. He and I have worked for 6.5 years to try to help me manage my symptoms and my depression. It has been a brutal and tough journey. No medications worked for me; and I tried almost everything you can think of (more than 35 different medications in total, either alone or in combination with other medications) Part of the problem was that not only do I have MDD, I also have anxiety and OCD problems. I think this makes my depression harder to treat.

Back to your first question: " What has been the most helpful thing you have done to help manage your depression?

Until the last month or two, I would not even say I was managing my depression. I was literally trying to "Survive my Depression". There have been a few things:

1) The first most helpful thing I did was find a pdoc that I could receive both therapy and medication advice from. A pdoc who was supportive, authentic, available, hopeful, intelligent, and who I connected with on a personal level. There were weeks and weeks where all that kept me going were thoughts that "I have an appointment in three days. I can survive until then".

In some of my worst moments I would visualize myself laying on the floor in Dr. X's office (no I have never really laid on his floor). The thought of just being near his calming presence helped me calm down.

I never have told Dr. X. this, but one day he left a message on my voicemail at work asking me to call him. I never erased that message until the day I left work. Whenever I was so stressed out I wanted to kill myself in the staff washroom, instead, I would go to my phone, pull up the phone message, listen to his voice, maybe repeat it a few time and something about his voice magically helped me survive...I know it's weird...but it helped

2. Medication that worked is the second thing.

Years of therapy and support helped me survive and try to get going and begin to "live with my depression", but as soon as I found a medication that helped, I was suddenly able to make a huge transition. Suddenly my anxiety dissipated, I lost most of (not all) my fear of people. I wanted to leave the house (vs.having to force myself out of the house), I wanted to see people, I wanted to experience new things. I felt hope. I saw the possibilities. I became more motivated. I began sleeping better. My mood lifted.

I would not say the medication was a miracle, because I had been working so hard on setting up a foundation to begin with, but suddenly, along with medications that worked, my foundation became like rich soil feeding growing plants and I was finally able to grow and blossom very quickly.

I have to say, the bloom has fallen off my plant a bit lately, but I still feel like I am strongly supported by the medications. I think in the beginning, when the medications first helped my mind was so blown that I actually could feel okay, that I ran with it above any of my expectations. Now I feel more like I have a long way to go to get well, but the medicine will help me get there.

3. Build and Create a life that has meaning and purpose. I have always been angst ridden about my life. Except for the time I was in my third and fourth years of university, and doing EXACTLY what I thought mattered, and exactly what supported my feeling that I was doing something meaningful and purposeful, I have always had a sense that I am wasting my life; that I will die and my life will have been meaningless.

I am really interested in existential psychology, because it speaks to this exact thing. So Dr. X. and I have worked really hard to help me slowly build a life full of meaning and purpose. It began slowly, but initially I thought, maybe if I give back to the world somehow I would feel better about my existence. So I began volunteering to walk dogs at the local SPCA. It was a start. I felt that no matter how depressed I was being around a dog would help me, and it was a flexible, drop in when you can situation, so days I couldn't leave the house, or even my bed, I didn't have to.

I realized I needed something more meaningful than walking dogs, so the next year I volunteered for our city's Shakespeare festival. This time I had to commit to one shift a week. That scared the hell out of me. It meant even if I was sick I had to go. It came with many therapeutic moments. I worked with people who either did not have a mental illness, or were not "out" about it. I struggled. My medication and medication changes made it difficult for me to think straight sometimes. I felt really self conscious. I was terrified. I did it anyways, and I got through the first season. The second season was less difficult, except I became so severely depressed part way through the season that I left, thinking I was going in for ECT. Even though I had to leave it helped build my confidence to try something even more challenging.

I began volunteering at the Art Clubhouse for people with severe and persistent mental illnesses. I took classes there, and eventually I began volunteering to apprentice classes with an O.T. and now I am volunteering to teach classes there. This all during the period before my medications worked.

It was hell, but I also loved it. It was hard to manage my responsibilities when I was so sick, but the structure really helped me leave the house, get out of bed, relearn to communicate with people, learn to lessen my social anxiety by exposing myself to more and more social situations: meetings, classes, and teaching. A structure to depend on, and one that was meaningful, and purposeful to me, helped me live with my severe depression.

4. Writing in this blog

For lots of reasons. First I have met some really interesting and caring people in the blog community. I feel like I able to be so open and honest here. It feels purposeful to me. I really hope that people who come here and are struggling with mental illness see what I write and realize they are not alone. I never want to provide false hope, because so many times I have written about feeling completely hopeless, but I know for me there is something about knowing I belong to a shared human experience that lessens my load. I hope that is what I help people with; providing a sense that we are not alone in this world, or in this battle.

The last question you ask is: "how do you get through your toughest days?"

I wrote a post a while ago titled: "Coping Strategies for Treatment Resistant Depression (TRD)"

probably provides my most comprehensive answer to this question. Honestly, some days I just cling to my life; curl up in a ball and just get through the obsessive suicidal thoughts, plans and urges. Those thoughts always pass eventually, and they always come back too, but I try really hard to just get through each tough moment as it comes and try to not think it will always be this way. Ant then there is always the thought...."three more days until I see Dr. X." I can last three days. I can manage knowing I have his support.

5 Beautiful Things

From here on in I am going to try to make at least half my posts positive and life affirming. This blog has dealt with so much sadness, anger and anxiety that I think, in order to push my mental health into a healthier space, I need to make at least some of it life affirming.

Dr Shock MD PhD in his/her post, "1 Myth about depression mostly not covered", wrote a post in response to my questioning the myth that states "depression is a treatable illness", acknowledging that this is not always the case.

Some people do not get well with treatments for their depression. For those people it is important to help them live with chronic depression, in much the same way others with other chronic medical conditions (heart disease, diabetes etc.) learn to live with there conditions.

He talks about many of the things my pdoc does: creating a meaningful life in spite of being depressed, mindfulness, and creating a sense of well being in spite of my illness.

It's an interesting post. Anyways, I've decided to show another side of myself.

Here are "5 Beautiful Things" that create meaning in my life:
1) Beautiful Speech
(The below speech by Nelson Mandela was originally written by Marianne Williamson):

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

2) Beautiful Art:
Beata Beatrix. 1864-1870. Oil on canvas. Tate Gallery, London, UK. More. Dante Gabriel Rossetti. (Above image)

3) Beautiful composer with beautiful music

4) Beautiful City

5) Beautiful Song (although I cannot figure out how to get these videos to not sound like mickey mouse is singing)

Can the Dead Talk to You?

I just came back from taking my dog for a walk in the flower field. Any elation in my mood has disappeared and is quickly being usurped by my anxiety and my depression. As I was walking I started thinking about suicide again...visualizing myself jumping off the city's highest bridge ...that would give me something to be anxious about....as I see myself hit the cement like water and break into a thousand pieces. I already feel that way. Broken into a thousand pieces.

...And then I look up, and in front of me, at the end of a row of dahlias, is a lone "Shoo Fly" plant.

My mom and I went to a "Seedy Saturday" a number of years ago, and she found seeds for this plant. In her loving care they ripened and sowed their progeny everywhere in her garden. She was delighted and told me I needed some in my garden, as she, in her giddy, funny way sung:

"Shoo fly don't bother me,
Shoo fly don't bother me,
Shoo fly don't bother me,
'cause I belong to somebody..."

I took some seeds for the next year and delighted in them popping up in my own garden as they had in hers. Eventually, they disappeared, stopped sowing themselves and I have not seen any anywhere in the garden for years.

My Mom died a little more than a year and a half ago. I can barely write those words. She was too lively, too caring and compassionate, too needed by all of us who loved her...to die so young and too soon. She had three months to prepare herself and her family for her death. One of the things she said to us before she died was, "I will see you in the moon, the stars and the sun". It was a powerful image that left me with the impression she would always be around in one form or the other.

Recently, I was laying in bed at 2:40 a.m. still wide awake, hardly able to breathe I was so anxious and agitated. I tried to make the anxiety stop, but it held my chest in a vice grip, suffocating me. I wanted to die.

I started imagining myself stabbing my chest over and over with a huge knife until finally my chest deflated and the anxiety dissipated. I think thoughts of suicide calm my anxiety sometimes. I see this in the thoughts I have of slitting my wrists and watching all the sadness pour out of me.

I got out of bed and stepped outside. What should be the first thing I see, but a huge full moon. I could feel Mom passing me a message of hope. I went back to bed and thought about it...scoffed at the idea but, finally, fell asleep.

I woke again at 5:40...thinking what a dumb belief. Mom's dead, she's gone...god why couldn't it have been me. I have no life and nothing to live for. She was needed and wanted and her life was priceless to our family. I wish it had been me. I would give anything to have her return.

The sun had just started to come up and the sky was that dusky shade of twilight blue. There, framed between the fog encased blueberry bushes and the the wide open sky, sat the full moon, huge as it began setting into the horizon. The image, and my belief Mom was trying to be there for me again, was haunting.

This afternoon as I walked through the flower field I came upon that row of blood red dahlias; and at the very end of that row, reaching out to touch me as I passed, was that lone "Shoo Fly" plant. None had been planted in the cutting field, and none had been in my private garden for years. I felt Mom brush up against me as I walked by...and I swear I heard, "...cause I belong to somebody".