Disclosure

(**Note: I misunderstood Dr. Shock when I wrote this blog post. He agreed with Dr. X's type of disclosure. Misunderstood or not, his thoughts were the catalyst for my writing about this topic and it felt good to get it all out of my head. Thanks Dr. Shock).

You may have picked up from my blog that I am not only in therapy, but I am also intensely interested in the therapeutic process: The patient/therapist relationship, how that alliance affects therapy and how powerful a catalyst for change and growth a relationship with a trusted therapist can be.

This post is inspired by my curiousity about that process. Recently Dr. Shock has written a series of posts about the Dr./Patient Relationship. They are all very interesting. I find myself both agreeing and disagreeing with one aspect of the Dr/Patient relationship he believes in. He disagrees with a Dr's self-disclosure (in particular when speaking of a psychotherapeutic relationship).

I for the most part agree with him. I think it is important for me as a patient to be able to project my difficult relationship communication problems onto Dr. X. When Dr. X "becomes" my Dad, like in my recent post "Letting Go of the Past", I am able to reflect afterwards and learn from the experience. It is during those moments when I learn the most.

I have had therapists who spent much of my session comparing their problems to mine, telling me everything about themselves. These have never been helpful therapeutic relationships to me. They begin to feel like they turn into therapy for the therapist instead. Dr. X. is not like that. He is very good at limiting self disclosure to almost nothing. While I have an intense desire to know him better, I appreciate that he reveals little to me, he is whoever I need him to be at any given time.

Recently however, he did disclose to me that he has been unwell, and that it appears he has MS. Dr. Shock finds this disclosure uncalled for (**Here is where I misunderstood Dr. Shock' position about Dr. K's disclosure...he actually agreed with Dr. X disclosing his illness ...read his comments and the posts on his site).

Here is where I disagree with Dr. Shock and the following disclosure about my past will explain why. (If you happen to read this Dr. Shock I would be really interested to know how you would manage a situation like this after reading some of why I think this self disclosure was imperative for my well being.)

I have had numerous situations that have intensified my fears of abandonment. The following were probably a few of the things probably the straw that broke this camel's back:

My Dad left my Mom when I was almost 17 years old. I came home from school one day and my Mom as gone. I had no idea why, or where she went. she just disappeared. It was traumatic.

A week later she returned home and suddenly my Dad disappeared. Although I discovered he had moved into his own apartment, again, there was no explanation as to why he left. I was distraught, confused and felt intensely abandoned both times. As the weeks wore on I began to fall into my first depression, but I had no time to help myself, because my Mom was disappearing too, only in a different way.

She began to drink, stopped eating, wouldn't get out of bed all day, began leaving us at night to go drink, lost weight to the point she began to appear anorexic, became so angry she was hard to be around (she is was usually the most calm and compassionate, loving person I have ever encountered). In a word she became severely depressed as a result of my Dad leaving. She desperately needed a job as she had no money of her own.

My Dad had always taken care of us financially. She could not get work, or manage to renew her licensing requirements to become an RN again because she was too sick. When asked my parents if we could see a counsellor, they both responded "it was none of my business. It was between them"

All I knew for years was that my Dad left. I had absolutely no idea why, or why he never came home. He was just gone. I made up all kinds of things in my head..." I was a difficult child, he didn't like me, he couldn't handle my sisters and I, he had just decided one day that he did not want to be with his family, etc." I felt intensely abandoned, sad, lonely, let down, ashamed that I had been such a bad person that I made him leave us. I had destroyed our family.

I felt abandoned by my Dad, but even though my Mom was physically still around, she was gone. She was inconsolable. She was one of those women who married for life. Divorce and remarriage were not options. It was so sad to watch such a beautiful, strong, and loving Mom become nobody without her husband. Without Dad she disappeared into severe depression for at least 10 years and remained moderately to mildly depressed until the year she passed away.

Two years after my Dad left I could not handle the feelings I felt for losing both parents, for not understanding why it had all happened, so I left home to get away from those feelings. I ran.

Four and a half years and three cities later I phoned my Dad and a man answered the phone. Suddenly, it became absolutely clear why my Dad had left my Mom. He was gay. For the first time in years I felt an intense sense of relief and understanding. I finally understood why no one would talk about it. It was the typical shame issue too many people feel about being gay.

Unfortunately, that was not true. My Dad had remarried, and now had a whole new family, a new wife and two sons, without telling any of us. He had left my Mom for a woman he had been dating for a couple years while still living with us. I can't even express the shock, and feelings of betrayal I felt, and to this day feel. My father marries without telling us, allowed us to suffer feelings of abandonment and fear we were the cause of him leaving, when all he could easily have explained what was going on. Maybe not when he first left, but at the very least before he married.

The woman he married was an absolute bitch. I rarely say that abut anyone, but she was the equivalent, and perhaps worse than, the epitome of the evil stepmother. She would draw you in, get you to reveal your souls deepest feelings and then use those to bait my Dad, and to make him angry at us. My little sister used to have to go stay with my Dad very couple weekends. She could hear my Dad's wife yelling at him about how he had to get rid of her. How she did not want my sister there, ever.

She destroyed any hope that my sisters and I could ever have a relationship with my Dad. My Dad has never once mentioned why he left Mom, or even the fact that he did. He never once stood up for us in front of his wife, or any other time tha we know of. Any attempts over the years to talk with him about his leaving and how it affected us ended in our being immediately silenced. This (among other things) left all his children with no ability to have any kind of trusting relationship with him.

What does this have to do with Dr. X's disclosure? Everything. Given I so often, so easily, and so strongly project my father onto him any sudden disappearance on his part, without my understanding why, would cause me to relive those feelings of abandonment, disingenuity, and deceitfulness all over again. Any trust I had in him would be gone, and I am not sure it could ever be regained, especially if I found out he knew, and had known for some time, that he might have to stop work for a while, or "disappear' for a while.

I am working so hard in therapy to learn that I can trust others, that people are genuine, that not everyone will leave me or outright lie to me, or lie to me by leaving out information. It has taken years for me to trust Dr. X. and to begin to feel safe.

On top of my Dad's deceit, and my intense sense of abandonment surrounding the way it all happened, I recently lost my Mom. She had been the only person in my life outside of therapy who really, really supported and understood me and my depression. She became ill with pancreatic cancer and died within 2.5 months of her diagnosis.

I am still having an intensely difficult time dealing with, not just her loss, but the swiftness of her death and the traumatic act of watching her die: watching her try to cling to her children, seeing her try so hard not to abandon us. The intensity of her will to survive, even after she fell into the final throes of death, gasping for air for hours, trying to communicate, when her ability to talk was gone, watching her not wanting to abandon this world and all she loved in it was so traumatic I don't think I will ever recover from the unwilling and unexpected abandonment of someone I loved so much.

Dr. X. needed to tell me he was ill to preserve the integrity and trust in our therapeutic relationship. He needed to show me he valued me enough to be honest and forthright about his potentially needing to cancel, or rearrange appointments. I needed to feel I was important enough for him to be open with me about WHY he was unable to see me; that it wasn't because he didn't want to see me, or because I was a difficult patient, or because he wanted to get rid of me. I needed to know I was not being abandoned and that I would be taken care of in his absence. Dr. X.'s decision to disclose his illness and the potential it had for him possibly needing to take time off work periodically was only decision he could have made given my background and the issues I have been dealing with.

A Perfect Day

Today was a really good day. I met with a friend and we went for a walk on the beach. I felt like I was with someone who gets me in all sorts of ways. Someone who sees the world around her like a child discovering new things all the time. I am like that too when I am feeling well and to some degree when I am depressed. I always have marvelled at how it is that such beauty exists in such a difficult world.

I marvel at nature and its awe inspiring beauty on every level. Natures colours and geometric patterns; her perfection and her ingenuity; her attention to detail and yet alternately her oversights. Nature amazes and enthralls me.

I watched my friend react with that same passion; both of us gasping in awe at the giant gelatinous masses of beached jellyfish on the shore. The translucent bodies magnifying and intensifying the colours of the rocks, sand and debris upon which they were trapped. I watched her try to save a jellyfish. An act of compassion and love for a creature so different from ourselves.

We both walked staring at the beach, searching for treasures to take home, or to take pictures of, to take home. She had better eyes than me and found the most interesting and unique items. She saw all the details I was missing and shared them with me; the spores of some kind of mold forming on a side of seaweed; the molds patterns made it so beautiful in it's own way; miniature seashells perfectly formed and teeny barnacles on a small stick, tiny, but no less magnificent.

Today felt like a perfect day. I was aware of myself; aware that I was very talkative, yet I tried to accept that overflowing bubbly talkativeness as myself and an expression of my joy and my feeling happy with what I was doing and who I was with. She in turn expressed how she is not as talkative, but that is just the way she is. We are who we are. We were who we are. It felt good to just be whoever I am; to revel in the sun, the ocean and the company surrounding me.

My Essential Self

I felt an intense sense of connectedness with Dr. X. today. I love those sessions where I feel not only understood, but also admired and fully cared for maybe even more because of my quirky behaviours.

I was telling Dr. X. how I went out with a friend and I had been really anxious. My mood has switched upwards, but so has my anxiety, irritability and I'm not sleeping very well. Anyways, I was so anxious and as a result I found myself talking, and talking...quickly, from topic to topic. I really wish I was less a talker and more a listener. So I said to Dr. X., very strongly, "I hate that side of myself!"

"Hate"?, he said. "That is a very strong word to use". I told him, "I do. I do hate the way I talk so much sometimes. I kept hearing myself talking and thinking...shut up and listen, slow yourself down, but I couldn't stop talking or slow down."

Part of it was my mood was up too, and I was really engaged. My mind explodes when people share their ideas and thoughts. It is like every idea they share sets of a million in me. Some people really trigger tons of ideas in me. I love being around those people. I just wish I could vocalize my ideas less and listen to their ideas more. I expressed how it sometimes happens during our sessions. I find myself interrupting him. I hate it when I interrupt people. It is rude.

Dr. X. looked at me and said I was often quiet and reflective. When I am feeling better I become ebullient and bubbly. He said never thinks of my interrupting him as anything more than an expression of my bubbly self.

I am quiet and reflective. Actually, for someone so extroverted I have intense social anxiety and am very introverted much of the time. More than anything just want to stay in my house and avoid the outside world. The quiet reflective me, is often the depressed me.

The well me is a little over the top. In fact when young and well I was unstoppable. I really loved that force of energy within myself. I loved that I was full of ideas, and interested in so many things. I love that I was brave and took wild and sometimes insane risks. I loved that I felt free to be whoever I was. It seemed the people around me loved my playful, boisterous spirit too.

I think I only began to hate that side of me at work, because I received feedback a few times from my bosses that I "overwhelmed" some of my co-workers. I overwhelmed them because I was a powerhouse and wanted to know more, and more and more. I did not just sit and just do my job. I invented and reinvented it. I took on all sorts of projects. I threw myself fully into everything I did. Some people just wanted to show up and do what was expected and go home. Which is fine. If that is what you want to do. I'm just not like that. I always wanted more; more responsibility, more new things to do, and more challenges.

So, maybe I don't "hate" my ebullience and passion for ideas and life when I am with someone who triggers these in me. Maybe I really love that about myself and am afraid I will be rejected if I am the real me. Maybe my trying to control my expressiveness, talkativeness and energy are holding me back.

I remember my best friends in university would all get a kick out of me sometimes when I began talking really fast and loud and rapidly switching from ideas to other ideas. We all joked about it, but they all embraced me and loved that quirk in me. I felt Dr. X. expressing that same kind of love for my energetic quirkiness today. That felt good.

Zebra Mountains Painting

I just completed the first of three 12 x 12 paintings for one of my nieces. She just had her bedroom renovated and it is purple...what girl didn't go through a purple period??? When I was 24 almost every single piece of clothing I owned was purple, I painted my window frame purple. I was OBSESSED with purple.

Anyways, this painting is the beginning of a conceptual idea I had about honing in on the smaller picture. Taking pictures up so close that it is not readily apparent what they are. Well of course...with zebras that is kind of hard, and on top of that my sister wanted them to be purple

...so here is my first of three paintings and the pictures I edited to paint the picture from. I thought it might be cool for you to see the process. I took the zebras drinking water, cropped the picture so it looked like mountains (the zebras' backs, and then painted it using black, purple and a complimentary yellow instead of black, brown and tan:

Religion, Mysticism and Spirituality

This post is inspired by something my pdoc wrote, and also a discussion we had last week in my session. We were talking about spirituality and the difficulty many of us have (me included) with the dogmatic beliefs found in all kinds of religions and spiritual beliefs. Before I begin this post I would like to mention that I think whatever your spiritual beliefs are is certainly not an issue with me. I believe we all have the right to believe what ever it is we do.

I know for my Mom, her belief in God played a huge part in her allowing her to have both a better life and accept her particularly difficult death. Her belief in God strengthened her every step of the way. I am so happy she had God's love to turn to when she needed it. This post is not about telling anyone what is or is not right, or wrong. It is simply a post about my beliefs, lack of beliefs and struggle to believe in something beyond this one plane of existence and experience.

I am not sure what I believe. To me insisting there definitely is a God, or insisting there definitely is not a God are both impossible statements to prove. So for me both fundamentalism (in any religion) and atheism are equally difficult positions to logically hold. This does not mean either are not correct; simply that no one can prove either the existence or non-existence of God.

I would say I am agnostic but hopeful their is something beyond this existence. I really struggle with the idea that everything begins and ends here in the world we experience on a sensual level. I also have had so many experiences that point to something beyond the scientifically proven and accepted theories of evolution and existence. They happen too often for me to ignore them. Maybe there is some kind of mystical force running through our lives.

Believe me it is very difficult for me to say that last statement. I am vehemently opposed to believing things with no proof, but sometimes my experiences seem to be showing me the proof and I keep ignoring the messages. Maybe there are "instances" where people are connected to another plane of existence, or experience beyond the here and now. No I am not being delusional. I'm just trying to understand what I experience.

After last weeks session it happened again; something that felt like a communication had taken place between my sister and I with no words being spoken. My sisters, and my Mom when she was alive , seem particularly in sync with one another, despite living very far away from each other and not talking that often.

In my last session Dr. X asked me what I was working on with my paintings. I told him am working hard to develop a series of conceptual paintings based on extreme close ups of images, taken out of context. Anyways, as our conversation ended we somehow got onto the topic of "foresight"; the ability to see/know something before either it happens, or before you have any knowledge of it happening.

I was telling Dr. X. how it seems like too many things happen to me this way for me not to have some kind of foresight. The last thing he said to me before my session was up was, I do seem to have foresight and he has seen proof of it.

I have dreams that come real, especially about animals dying...which is awful. Years ago I dreamt my cat was drowning. I went outside at 4am in my rain gear and found him dead in a puddle at the side of the road. I dreamt about dead dogs laying in the ditch and woke to find my neighbours dog dead. I dreamt I would find my cat that had been lost for 8 months and told my husband in the morning to look for him...he laughed and told me I was out of my mind...but at 10:00 am I got a call saying he had found the cat, but under the shed. Unfortunately, he was dead.

Last week, when I came home from my appt, there was a message from my sister. I called her and she asked me if it would be possible to paint three paintings based on parts of zebras for my nieces newly decorated bedroom. She didn't want whole Zebras, but exactly the type of paintings I had been thinking about (I never told anyone before D. X). It was strangely familiar to have things happen magically right when I am thinking hard about them. I don't believe in this stuff, but it sure seems like something/someone wants me to.

My Paintings and Other Art

The image I based my 1st abstract on. It is a picture I took of a bunch of flower clippings in a bucket while I was deadheading flowers in the garden. I love the colours together.

The abstract based on the picture. The photo of the painting didn't turn out well because I should have taken a picture before adding a shiny gel coat...so the sheen distracts from the photo...but hey.

In my last post Dr. Shock mentioned he was curious about my other work. In fact, I just started learning to draw 4 or 5 years ago. I could only draw stick people before then. I have taken 3 continuing education drawing classes at the local Art University (Emily Carr School of Art and Design). So I do not have a lot of other work.

However, if I get the time I will search around and post some of my drawings. Oh...I just realized I have some linocut prints that I have done also, so I will add those too. And a piece of pottery I really like...(hey Dr. shock...you are making me realize I have done more art than I remembered)...Thanks.

I only began painting this March 2008 (this year). I took an acrylics course at the art clubhouse I belong to but, it was more for fun/socialization. Mostly I am learning the theories of painting, brushstrokes, colour mixing, etc on my own by looking at other's work both at the studio, and in Art magazines/books, or online.

My knowledge of drawing techniques is helping me. The last painting I posted was the last painting that is complete (actually I just realized I did my first abstract painting a couple months ago and didn't post it). I will do that right now.

I am currently working on five others right now, an abstract (24 x 24) based on the picture that inspired the one I am about to post (which is approx. 12 x 15) , a gigantic nasturtium that is an ode to my Mom, and is turning out to be so beautiful and three "conceptual" paintings (each 12 x 12) based on micro focusing on an object and patterning for my niece's newly decorated (purple) bedroom. I hope to have this series done this week. I will post them when done. (I am doing them in the colours she wants, but I want to do a similar series in more realistic colours and do them on larger (24 X 24) canvases...because I am liking the idea and how they are turning out.

Letting Go of the Past

In my session on Friday Dr. X. asked me what I was working on with my painting. Immediately, I felt intensely self conscious, fake, and that my art was trite and unworthy. I began to cry. I felt like a fraud with my art. I felt embarrassed by it, and by my ideas. Yet, while by myself painting, and when I look at my paintings alone, I feel an intense sense of accomplishment. I experience a sense that this is what I am supposed to be doing; the direction my life is meant to go in.

I think when I share something this valuable to me with Dr. X. I have a tendency to project my Dad onto him. Dr. X. instantaneously and magically BECOMES my father. I am unable to consciously recognize the person in front of me as the trustworthy, caring, interested and compassionate Dr. X. I cannot see him as the person who wants me to succeed. Dr. X. has left the building. My Dad is sitting in front of me.

I feel almost re-traumatized by the unconscious/subconscious fear that an extremely important person in my life will ridicule or dismiss my ideas. So when Dr. X asks me what I am doing with my art I become the child of an arrogant, egotistical, narcissistic tyrant. A Commander-in Chief who ordered me to listen. The all powerful authority figure who ridiculed, rejected and dismissed my ideas, my opinions and tried to slaughter my creative soul. The man who seemed almost obsessed with putting me in my place and proving he was right and I was wrong.

As a child I accepted he was right. It was me. I was wrong. I wasn't good, or smart, or good at anything. I was stupid, never paid attention and never listened. I believed this for so long that now, as an adult, I have forgotten how to be my own person without fearing I will make a mistake, or I won't be good enough, or I won't do well enough at anything I do, or I will embarrass myself, or my ideas really are stupid, or people will not like me. I will be rejected.

When I was a kid I wanted so badly to be involved with, and to please, my Dad. As a child I would wait , laying wide awake in bed; waiting to hear the late night news come on. I would sneak out and ask my Dad if I could watch it. We would sit on the couch together watching the news. This was the most important thing in the world to me. A sense of shared experience with my Dad. I would read the newspapers for the same reasons.

I did these things because I so desperately wanted to have something in common with my Dad. I wanted him to be proud of me, to be pleased with my seeking knowledge, to be able to talk with him about things. It never worked. If I tried to discuss something we watched together, or an article we both read it inevitably became an argument about why my perspectives were wrong and his were right.

I don't know why my Dad did this. I know he loved me, and I know he loves me, but he still does treats me and my ideas the same way. I love my Dad and I am trying really hard to let go of the past, but my past haunts me and slips unseen into so many areas of my life.

I forgive my Dad. I think he was probably treated that way by his parents. Also, being a policeman, and the "top down" military lifestyle life that type of job entails, would reinforce a sense of "authority" and "correctness" in anyone doing those kinds of jobs. He was a product of his environment. On top of that, there are no perfect manuals for being a good parent and the 60's and 70's child rearing mores were much different than today's. I can forgive, but my body and mind cannot forget.

I still react the same way to certain circumstances as I did when I was a child. I want to please all men, all authority figures, anyone who remotely has any control or authority over me no matter how tenuous the connection to their being an "authority figure" is. I am afraid of, and go out of my way to reconcile my opinions with, anyone who disagrees with me or anyone who has the potential to hurt me. I react with fear, terror, anxiety, and sometimes panic when someone, anyone, invades my personal space, or physically intimidates me or threatens me.

Obviously, given how I sometimes project my Dad onto my kind pdoc, I often react this way in situations that do not warrant such a reaction. This is when the therapeutic moments between myself and Dr. X are the most powerful. When the Dr. X, and a I are involved in a discussion or situation in my appointment that causes me to have such a severe reaction, I need to, and/or he needs to help me, recognize that these are the times to take note and to back up, examine my reaction and start again.

As he asked me about my art and I began to cry, I expressed how I was afraid my art was trite and unworthy. He spoke up and asked me to examine what I had said. As I sat there crying and feeling ashamed I was suddenly reminded of who was sitting in front of me. I remembered he is supportive, not dismissive. He is nurturing and interested in what I am doing, not judgemental. Almost instantaneously I began sharing my new ideas. I heard the excitement in my voice. I felt the joy of sharing something I cared about with someone who wanted to know. I felt one tiny step closer to letting go of my past and learning to be proud of my future.

My New Disclaimer.

If you are feeling suicidal please reach out. Suicide removes all your options. Please call 911, local crisis line, family doctor, psychiatrist, therapist, or tell a close family member or friend. No one should go through struggles with depression or any other mental illness alone. We all deserve to have the support and help we need.

This post expresses some of my experiences with those thoughts and how I have survived them. If you want to see more of how I have felt and survived click on the side labels "suicide", and "suicidal thoughts". I don't have any answers, except for one...If they are good listeners, a great caring therapist, or psyciatrist can protect you from yourself in so many ways. This sight is proof of that.

I did not really want to put a disclaimer on my site. Recently however, an increasing number of people are Googling " I want to die", or I wish I would die" and ending up at my blog. I do not want to stop writing how I feel, or soften how I express myself. I want to write authentically. I find writing this way to be extremely cathartic. However, I worry for these people.

I hope if you show up here and read about my wanting to die you read more of my blog than just the posts that express my often obsessive thoughts and feelings of suicide. My wish for anyone struggling with these thoughts is that you discover a couple things on my blog:

• One: I really want my site to reflect the difficult, sometimes seemingly impossible, often downright awful and at times; the questionably unsurvivable experiences I have with my treatment resistant depression. I want people to know they are not the only ones having these thoughts.
• Two: I want people to see that if there is hope for me, there is hope for anyone. My illness has lead me to meet my psychiatrist Dr. X. . I want this site to show how help from a knowledgeable, supportive and compassionate Dr. and/or therapist can be a life changing and rewarding experience; not just for the medication help, but also having someone to help you survive the times life does not seem to be worth living.

I am not saying life is perfect for me. If you read my blog on a regular basis you will notice I struggle so much to keep trying sometimes. Ultimately though, having a pdoc and therapist I trust and can count on has helped me take chances and try things I never thought possible; things like learning to draw, participating in art classes, teaching art classes(still cannot believe this one), developing art classes, learning to paint, picking up my guitar again after a 20 year hiatus. With the help of someone I have learned is trustworthy and honest, kind and happy to be around me no matter how I feel, I am slowly uncovering and discovering the person want to be.

I am still really depressed, still anxious, still have many days where I don't think I can continue trying, but I have good help and I know it. That keeps me trying and subsequently continuing to grow into a new me. The me I want to be. The life that IS worth living.

You may not click with the first psychiatrist or therapist you meet. I didn't. I tried many, many different therapists before I finally met the right one. Keep trying if you do not like who you see.

A doctor once told me to get on the list of every psychiatrist who had patient openings. See them once or a couple times. The first meetings with a psychiatrist or therapist are as much for you to interview them, for you to see whether they are a good fit for you; as the interview is for them to begin understand you. If they don't get that...run! I saw that (sort of) jokingly, but I have found much of the reason I am able to be open and honest with my pdoc; about suicide, or bizarre thoughts, or plans, is we ALWAYS make decisions together.

We are like a team working together to help me feel better. He treats me like a colleague. That to me represents a very powerful, patient focused therapeutic alliance. I am not saying he would not hospitalize me against my will if I became unable to participate in the decision making process.

I would hope, and trust that he would. It means we have built a relationship based on shared decision making, which has built my trust in him. Given the way we have worked together I am absolutely certain he would help me participate in the decisions I am able to make, given the state of my abilities to decide for myself. I trust he would do what was right for me and include me as much as possible in any and all decisions.

When trying to find someone to help you recognize there are lots of people we meet in our lives who we don't like for one reason or another; psychiatrists and therapists are no different. Some people we feel okay around and some we don't. If you do not like the pdoc or therapist you are with keep searching for someone else until you feel you have met a good fit for you and your needs. The search will be worth it in more ways than one.

It may be that you are so suicidal or ill right now that you are unable to take the time to search for the "right" psychiatrist. If that is the case please reach out for crisis help, either via the crisis line in your area, or the 911 emergency number, or take yourself or get someone to take you to emergency room at the hospital. This will allow you to be safe for the time being. It will allow you get to the point where you are able to begin the important search for the psychiatrist or therapist you need to help you survive, and hopefully, eventually thrive beyond your illness.

Death Anxiety

Aqua, "Destination Unknown" (linocut 1/5) 2007

Me: (Among a list of other things) "I have been sleeping a lot. I'm not sure if it's because I am tired or I just can't face doing things. I feel like I just don't want to do anything, or I have too much to get done and it's overwhelming. I can't face all the things I have to do, so all I want to do is sleep."

Dr. X: "Tell me your list of things you want to accomplish."

Me: (Completely misinterpreting "why" he is asking this question, because all I am worried about is losing him) "Why? Is this so if I need to be seen by someone else they will have a list of all the things I need to work on? So, they will know what I need to address in therapy?"

Dr. X: (Looking really perplexed, but trying hard to hide that) "No, you just said you were sleeping a lot to avoid things, or because you were avoiding getting things done. I was wondering what those things were."

Me: "Oh! Getting a job!"

Dr. X.: "You have a job. (referring to my volunteer work)"

Me: "I mean a job where I get paid; where I stop being a drain on the social services system; where I can take care of myself; where I don't rely on anyone else. All I ever heard from my Dad when I was growing up was how awful "those" people were (Hippies, the unemployed, anyone who wasn't working and paying there own way, anyone who needed help from anyone else). I have internalized my Dad. On top of that all I'm hearing from him and my one sister right now is do more and you will feel better, or (from my Dad) Why don't you get a job? A "real" job. Get it together."

Dr. X. "You are working at a real job. The system sets it up so you cannot win one way or the other. Maybe the Art Clubhouse should pay you a higher wage, so it would be seen more as work and more valuable by you and by others, where it could help support you. The big thing here though is your internalization of your Dad's criticism."

Me: (Feeling cared for and supported by Dr. X, but dejected; like I will never be a valuable human being). "I know. I am doing things that are important to me. If I worked for $10/hr doing something I felt was meaningless or purposeless I know I'd be even more depressed. I just never thought I would end up like this. I always thought I would move up the ladder in life (always moving forward, getting better jobs, getting ahead). I never expected to be on disability, to not be working, or to be unwell. I always thought I would do something with my life."

Dr. X: Silent (His specialty: a safe, reflective silence...like he is when he waits for me to figure out for myself that I am not thinking clearly)

Me: "I guess it is like the print I made for you last year..."Destination Unknown". (Thinking to myself how making that print for Dr. X may have been eerily full of the bizarre sense of magical foresight I seem to have sometimes. I made it to represent my struggle and how it is taking me in directions I never expected; and often didn't want, to go, but he clearly sits on that same bus with me now...that I never expected).

I was driven to make that print for him. I felt I had to give it to him. I messed it up so many times and did it over and over until it came out right. An intense dream created the metaphor of a bus taking me in an unexpected direction; I added the Raven; a trickster figure. He is devising, overseeing and fully intending whatever outcome occurs.

None of us knows which way our lives are headed. None of us can foresee the outcome. We are all on that bus whose destination is unknown. That scares the hell out of me.

Fear of Loss

I have written about this two or three times over the past few weeks, but each time I have removed the posts or portions of the posts that refer to my pdoc disclosing he is unwell. Each time I wrote about it, afterwards I felt I was being unfaithful, traitorous, untrustworthy, or unsupportive of him. I felt afraid that my apprehension and fear about him being unwell was both unhelpful to him, and proof that I am selfish in my fear.

I need to write about it though because I am terrified and extremely worried for both of us and it is really affecting me.

I am very concerned for Dr. X. He told me he has Multiple Sclerosis (MS). He needed to disclose this too me, because MS can be unpredictable and there may be (and lately have been) times when he needs to be away from work. I need to know why. I need to know it is not me when he calls and says he cannot meet for our appointments.

When faced with this kind of information my first reaction is to inform myself about what the information means. MS is a disease that attacks the central nervous system. It breaks down the myelin that acts as a protective coating for the central nervous system. It causes lesions in the white matter of the brain (an effect of the breakdown in patches of myelin). From what I have read MS can be a very difficult illness to manage.

Some people may have very few symptoms for long periods of time and then become ill for periods of time. Some people have minimal symptoms and some have very difficult symptoms to manage. It seems the disease's symptoms are very individuated to each person.

Symptoms can include (but may not include, or may minimally include): Vision, balance and short term memory problems, bladder an bowel problems, incoordination and muscle stiffness and sometimes paralysis and severe fatigue.

From what I understand there are four subtypes of MS:

Relapsing & Remitting MS; a type of MS where the person has times of relapse into the illness and then the symptoms remit for periods of time,
Benign MS: (unsure), but I think this is where the person with MS has minimal symptoms and years after they have been diagnosed they are still functioning very well
Progressive MS, which includes two sub-types:
Primary - Progressive MS- People with this form of MS have symptoms that continually worsen, with no relapses.
Secondary Progressive MS - This version starts out as a relapse and remitting pattern and eventually becomes unremitting with a continual gradual worsening of the conditions symptoms

That is the "education" aspect of my fear, then comes the sense of intense and deep sadness for my pdoc. He is so young (younger than me). Has a family, is so active and seemed so healthy. He is generally a "blank page" to me. He rarely talks about himself or anything personal. However, from meeting with him and talking with him I know a bit of what he is like.

He is extremely intellectual, well read, and I see an intense desire for him to learn and understand everything he comes across. I worry that MS will affect his ability to enjoy intellectual undertakings, like reading and remembering, in the way my depression and maybe also, the medications I take, have pretty much destroyed my ability to read, remember, follow any book that is more difficult than a newspaper.

Short term memory problems can really be a huge barrier to being able to follow plot lines, or in the case of academic articles, scientific information. Not being able to read has caused an intense sense of loss in me. I hope Dr. X's MS does not affect him in this way. I also know he plays the piano, and is very physically active. I pray he is able to continue these pursuits. I am really worried for him.

Now comes the really selfish part. I am really worried for me too. A huge part of me wishes I could magically become better so I did not need his support. I want so badly to be better for him, so he had one less thing to worry about. I understand how a chronic illness can impact your life. I recognize that at some point he may have to use what energy and good days he has to take care of himself and his family. Even though I completely understand how his need to make himself and his health and well being need to be the most important thing in his life, I am terrified he will leave work. I am so scared I will never see him again. I feel afraid losing him will be a loss in the way losing my Mom was a loss.

I have never met anyone like him. I know that without him I would never have survived these past 6.5 years. I recognize I am stronger now, but I am certain there is no person on earth I could connect with, open up too, and be as honest and open as I am with him.

He gets me, like I know no other pdoc ever would or could. He understands my lifelong search for meaning and purpose. He always gives me the sense that I am a normal human being, with intense, yet not strange or unordinary struggles, without my feeling dismissed or misunderstood. He understands how important my dreams and their symbolism are to me and my life, how much value I place on my struggle to create, expand and relay my search for meaning to others and how important my working towards a purposeful life is to my well being. He gets me.

I am so afraid I will have to start from scratch with someone else; that I simply will not connect to a new person, that I will need to spend this long learning to trust someone else, Most of all I am so scared I will lose my connection to someone who is as important to me as someone in my family. Even if he needs to leave work to take care of himself. I am terrified of the sense of loss I would feel if I could never see him again.

Kicking and Fighting

I have never been one to accept that I have limitations. I think part of that has been helpful in my struggle with Major Depressive Disorder and it's partner "Anxiety". However, I also understand that fighting against my depression and anxiety; not accepting I have an illness, has hindered my becoming well.

Some of you may think; "what the hell, she talks about it in her profile and in all her posts. How can she possibly suggest she does not "accept" her illness. It is strange.

I can say it: "I have a mental illness. I am depressed and anxious. My life has changed dramatically because of these"

I can comprehend it: "Some people have a combination of psychological, physiological (AKA biological) and genetic factors that may predisposition them towards having a mental illness.

I can see how I may have been affected by all three: "I have numerous people in my family with depression, anxiety and bipolar disorder, I was a child who was predisposed to worry about everything from a very young age. I had numerous incidents while growing up that very negatively affected my mental well being."

I can see I need help: For years, off and on I have sought help via therapy. For the past 6.5 years I have received weekly therapy and been willing to try every medication on the planet to try to make myself feel better. I know something is not right. I know I have had times in my life where I feel like a completely different person.

The trouble is I kick and fight all the way. I cannot shake the feeling that this is all my fault; that had I lived my life differently, or made better choices I would not be in this predicament; that somehow I am different from all the other people I know who have mental illnesses. I can understand their illness is not their fault. I can see there is an outside force "making" them have their difficulties. I cannot accept the same for me.

I often wonder if the medications and the therapy don't work, because I am not depressed. I am not mentally ill. I am simply stubborn and lost. I hate who I am, and I feel like I made myself this way.

For instance, my fatigue: Every time I talk with my sister about it she says, "I find that the more I do, the more energy I have". She tries to get me to do more to feel less tired, but I cannot bring myself to do more. This feels like a personal flaw; if I really wanted to get better I would swim, and exercise, and clean the house, and make dinner, and have a shower, and do all the things that a healthy person does.

If I really wanted to get better I would take that 6 grams of salmon oil religiously everyday. I would take a multivitamin and B-Complex vitamin everyday like my pdoc suggests. Who cares if it means I have to take 8 more pills on top of the 10 other pills I already take throughout the day. Who cares if I keep forgetting. If I really wanted to get well I would find a way to remember.

If I could accept I had a mental illness; not just say it, or understand what that is, but really accept that some of what goes on in my head and with my body is out of my control I think I might begin to let go and to get better.

If I could stop fighting against the suicidal ideation, the self loathing, the anxiety, the intense fatigue, the amotivation, the absolute terror and fear of being left alone, or being embarrassed, or being rejected; if I could accept these are symptoms I cannot control, I might be able to relax and stop trying so hard to get rid of them. Ironically this might be the path to them leaving me.

I need to find it within myself to ACCEPT I can do what I can and I can try to do things. I can hang on, and survive, but I cannot CONTROL all my symptoms. I need to learn that have an illness where what you can and cannot control is ambiguous. I need to believe that I am trying as hard as I can to get better, and that is all anyone wants me to do.

Loss

I am at my sister's. She lives about 250 km from me, in the town my Mom used to live in before she died. I used to come to this town all the time, but since Mom died it is almost impossible for me to come here. It feels empty and I feel alone and sad, even when surrounded by the family I love.

Yesterday I drove to the house my Mom used to live in. I haven't been there since she passed away. I pulled over at the side of the road across from her house and sobbed. I am crying right now. The loss of my Mom and how it has affected me is impossible to relay. I loved her more than anything in the world and three years after her death I am still having a really difficult time accepting I will never see her again.

I have been at my sister's for a few days now. I love my sister and her kids so much, but I feel more alone with them, than I do when I am alone at home. We rarely talk about Mom, and I feel like my presence is a reminder to her of our loss, and her presence is a reminder to me of that loss. I just want to go home, but I have to go to a family wedding today.

I am dreading it, in the same way I dreaded that party two weeks ago. I already feel dissociative and I'm not even there yet. I am exhausted and afraid of all the people I will have to be someone else for. All I want to do is go back to bed.

"Outing" Myself

I was wondering what other people do in terms of having a mental illness and how much or how little information they reveal about themselves to other people.

In particular "The Silent Voices in My Mind" made a comment on my "Fatigue and Depression" post about how her kids do not understand how, sometimes, it takes too much energy to talk on the phone.

First SV I want you to know you are not alone. I rarely answer the phone for the exact same reason, and calling people who have left messages for me is one of the most difficult things for me to do. I think I almost have a phobia of the phone.

I explained to my nieces this weekend that I have a mental illness. One of my sisters has told her kids, and I have mentioned it in passing to the other two before, but this weekend they all saw that I was taking pills morning, afternoon and night and they outright asked me what I was doing. (gotta love the curious and unafraid to ask anything aspect of kids)

So I sat down and I told them:

Me: "Auntie Aqua takes medicine because she has a mental illness".

Them: "What's that?"

Me: (unsure exactly how to explain it). "It means I have an illness in my brain that makes me feel really sad all the time. The illness makes me really tired and afraid to do or try things most people would not be afraid of. It makes me think sad thoughts."

Them: "WHAT???"

Me: "Well, are you ever sad sometimes? Or are you ever really scared of things?"

Them: "Yes."

Me: "When you feel like that is it because something makes you sad, like when someone hurts your feelings, or when you can't do something you want to do. Or, when you feel scared is it because something scared you?

Them: "Yes"

Me: "What happens when the thing that scared you or made you sad goes away?"

Them: "We are happy, or not scared anymore"

Me: "Well, your Auntie feels sad and scared most of the time, for no reason. I take medicine to help me feel less afraid, to help me sleep and to help me feel happy like you"

Them: "That doesn't make any sense"

Me: "My mental illness, a sickness inside my brain, makes me sad and scared. Something inside my brain makes me feel that way. I don't know why, it just does"

Them: "Ohh"....and then they all run off to play.

C.T. Scan Results

Re: my Post about going in for a C.A.T. scan...it was actually a CT scan (not sure what the difference is but nothing showed up on it. I asked Dr. X. what they would have been looking for. He said tumours, signs of brain damage etc. So I guess my increasing word finding, mixing up words and memory problems are either related to being depressed, or they are side effects of my medicine.

I do feel like I am far more confused and having more memory retrieval and word retrieval and word mix-up problems than ever before. It is so frustrating.

Fatigue and Depression

How can I love my nieces so much, yet feel relief that they have gone home? I am exhausted. I feel physically sick and I am so tired. It is not a sleepy tired, but a feeling like my whole body can hardly move. I'm shuffling my feet an just sitting here staring off into space: wasted.

Fatigue and exhaustion are a huge part of my depressive symptoms. I can be up, really up if I have to be; like with my nieces, but the cost is huge. As soon as the occasion for which I need to be strong, up and projecting a happy me is over I feel almost like I am going to collapse.

I was severely depressed (as part of this MDE) for the two years before I left work. I worked as a facilitator/teacher/program development specialist for a large corporation. My job was high paced, challenging and full of social contact via courses, classes, management training, management of a training team etc.

I would cry all the way to work, stand at the crosswalk thinking intensely about stepping in front of the oncoming bus, visualize myself hanging myself in the handicapped washroom; and then step into my work building and be "on", bright, happy, outgoing, welcoming, caring, kind etc, etc. towards every single person I met.

When I left for the night I could barely open the door to leave the building. I was that exhausted. I would get in my car and speed as fast as I could, praying my car would lose control and I would die. I would get home and hit my head over and over and over. I was so angry with myself for being unable to extricate myself from a job that, while I was that depressed, was literally going to kill me.

I still have the same patterns. I cannot help but make myself into the "happy" person I believe others need me to be when I am around them. The trouble is it takes so much energy to be that person that when I leave the scenario/person to go home I want to throw up I feel so tired.

I think what I do is called a "reactive mood". From what I understand it, and the fatigue, are markers of a subtype of depression called "Atypical Depression", along with other symptoms I have like eating more and gaining weight when depressed (vs. the person who stops eating when depressed) and wanting to sleep much more.

Fatigue was the reason I sought help from my family doctor. It is always the first thing that happens when a depressive episode sets in; and that, and a decrease in eating are the first things to go when the MDE begins to wane.

Despite my medications lifting my mood enough for me to manage a bit better, the side effects of the medicines are keeping me fatigued. I also am still having huge problems with mood lability and the "reactive mood--->fatigue" cycle.

My nieces are so beautiful and soul enhancing, but I made the right decision to not have children. You would not believe how much I love and adore my nieces. However, if I had to take care of children 24/7 I am certain I would die of exhaustion. I also made the decision to not have children because my family has multiple people in it who have bipolar disorder, or major depression, or anxiety/panic problems. I seem to be a mixture of all three and I just could not bear passing these on to another human being.

I am certainly not saying people with mental illnesses should not have children. I marvel at the love and attention many of my friends with these illnesses are able to provide their kids. I am just saying for me, I could not manage that responsibility, no matter how much I loved my kids. I can barely take care of myself much of the time.

My Lovely Munchkins

I have these 4 beautiful munchkins (AKA neices) staying with me for 5 days so I will be off showing them the city and enjoying their company. We are going to the folk festival and Science World, and swimming, ad to Grouse Mountain....so I probably won't have time to write here until they have gone home...wish me luck! I might need it;>)

Metaphors that have helped me Cope with Suicidal Thoughts

Recently, I have had numerous (different) people Google my blog over the past couple weeks by the search words "I want to die", or "I wish I would die", "I want to die, help me". I have those feelings and thoughts a lot of the time.

I worry for the people who are looking for help so I will share a few bits of wisdom my pdoc has shared with me. This is not a preachy post, or a post telling anyone to do anything other than that which they choose. This post is just me expressing some things that have helped me. Maybe they can help you too.

In my experience, once I get through the obsessive suicidal thoughts, either by talking openly with my pdoc about them, or by wrapping myself in a blanket and hanging on for dear life, the power of the feelings over me usually fades. I cannot say the feelings ever really go away, but I try hard to survive them.

I was just reading something my pdoc wrote about how he likes to use metaphors in his practice to help his patients. He does, and his metaphors stick with me. With his use of metaphors and similes he is really good at making something insurmountable seem possible. I have shared some of these before, but I'd like to share them all together:

1) Think of yourself being on a well built, strong and sturdy ship. The wind and the waves are trying to force the ship off course. They are howling and waves are sweeping over the bow. These external forces are trying to sink the ship, to drown you. During these times it is your job to hold onto the rudder and steer. You can't stop the wind and waves, but you have some control over where the ship goes. (I almost always think of this when my depression is threatening to kill me with suicidal thoughts. It is all I can do sometimes to hang on, but I do)

2) I often feel like I am making no progress, like I am doing the same behaviours over and over and over. Like my cycling mood keeps repeating and repeating itself. Dr. X. used the metaphor of a piece of classical music (or any music really). As the movements progress there is repetition, but each time it repeats there are subtle, sometimes barely recognizable changes, until finally the piece reaches it's crescendo and the repetition becomes a glorious change.

I really like this metaphor. To think of my life as a piece of slowly changing music is a beautiful thing. If I look at my diaries from 2001 I have made enormous changes, but if you asked me on any given day I might say I will never change. My perspective is skewed while I'm in the middle of a depressive episode. I cannot see that the many subtle changes become huge change over time.

3) "Be like a tree". In this simile Dr. X. explained to me that there is nothing within the tree that sucks the life sustaining moisture out of the ground and up into every tip of every branch. He said it is the presence of an external pressure that lifts water to each of the trees branches: Evaporation. Evaporation lifts the water out of the ground and up through the tree.

He tells me this so I recognize that we all need external help to keep going sometimes. Modern psychology seems to tell us we should all be able to stand on our own, that the push to succeed, or to become well ,must come from inside ourselves. I don't think this is true. Neither does Dr. X. We are born into society as social animals. We rely on social networks and others to help us do some of the things we do.

In this simile he is helping me recognize that asking for help is not a bad thing, but an ordinary act of an ordinary person. Maybe it means I need a personal trainer to help me get to the gym, or maybe the regular appointments I keep with Dr. X. are there to help keep me on track. Maybe by scheduling myself to do things at a specific time everyday I am provided with enough of an external structure to both get me going and keep me going.

External structure and external support systems, like a set coffee time with a friend, or volunteering responsibilities, or a daily time set aside to meditate, or go for a walk, might be like the evaporation helping the tree. External structure and a small amount of external pressure might help us regain and sustain activity and maintain our growth.

The I Need a Little More Levity Meme

I have been having a rough time...so I am going to try to make myself laugh and/or think happy or silly thoughts and remember strange or bizarre times that made me go "huh? I'm making up my own Meme (Where does that word come from anyways??? I always thought it was an anthropological term for symbols used in cultures...Note to self: must look up).

Please...If you decide to do the meme let me know so I can peek on your blog.
hopefully I wll find out more about a few of my fellow/fella bloggers AND make them laugh along the way...Here I go:

My Levity Meme:

1) What is the strangest thing someone has ever said to you?
I walked out of a really sad pdoc appointment into the sunshine. A man approached me and with the sun behind him I could not see his features, but he looked like those iconic paintings of jesus, with the glow of light around his head. He looked directly at me and said: "God says everything will be allright" and then he disappeared. I started to cry, it felt intensely spiritual.

2) If your friends had to describe you what would they say?
I have a kind heart, but it is easily broken. I laugh easily, but cry easily too. I want so much to love, but am afraid to trust. I care so deeply, yet feel so alone. I am loyal.

3) Name 5 of the stupidest things you have ever done. (This should be easy for me)

1) Run across the ice at a charity Curling event. While doing so clipped the foot holds, managed to catch my balance, but was going so fast I hurdled towards the lane dividers, tripped and broke both my elbows on the ice
2) At University was invited to become an honours student in Sociology and declined. I was more interested in Philosophy. To this day I wonder if I had chosen Sociology would I have gone on to become an academic, something I always wanted?
3) Try on a pair of leather pants in high school. I was really skinny, but not skinny enough, and when I bent down to pick up my shirt my kneecap had nowhere to go but sideways. I tore all the ligaments in my knee...it was agonizing and embarrassing as when I was trying to get an ambulance the store clerk kept yelling that I was not leaving with those pants on (WTF?) I couldn't get my knee back in its socket.
4) When I was a naive 18 I got in a car with a stranger who offered me a ride home from the pub. He was an older man, and seemed trustworthy. He dropped my friend off and then proceeded out of town to the top of the mountain where I lived. In the middle of nowhere he pulled the car over and asked me what I would do if he raped me. I was terrified, but scared the crap out of him when I told him in gruesome details exactly how, if he hurt me, I would ensure he never was able to do that to anyone again.
5) Smoked a joint in high school at noon hour (well maybe more than one), started literally hallucinating in my french class. Went out into the hall and the walls were coming down on me. I slipped and broke my leg really badly when I was freaking out in the bathroom. Note to self: Pot is not good for me...I'm not saying its not okay for others, but I seem to have the opposite reaction than everyone I know)

4) What was the first thing you heard this morning?
This is funny: "Want a lollipop?" (My husband as he rolled over and asked for a ...(well you know). (blush;>)

5) When you were a kid, what was your "ideal" day? Get on my bike early in the morning, take off with my friends for a hike into the forest for a picnic and then go to the swimming pool from 1-4 and swim in the sunshine all day, go home for dinner and then head back to the pool for swim team practice.

6) What was the best concert you ever saw?
"Butthole Surfers", with "Jane's Addiction" as the opening act. I'd never even heard of Jane's Addiction. They were so amazing. The more fun I had, the more I began to drink. The alcohol fueled the wild woman in me (what some pdoc's have told me is manic). I became wild and started making out with the stranger behind me, everything seemed so surreal and perfect. Then I got a beer bottle broken over my head by some rowdy out of control drunk (hey at least I'm into love when I'm drunk)...and I never even noticed I was having such a good time.

7) If you could have decided to be anyone in the world (living or deceased), who would you have choosen to be?
This is hard. I was thinking Ghandi, or the Dali Lama, but more than anything I would want to consistently be ME...but the well me. The me who believes she can do anything. The me who is afraid of nothing, who in fact loves to take risks. The me who loves a challenge and gets excited by new things. The me who loves people and feels loved and cared for by others.

8) Sex? or Chocolate?
How about sex with choclate on top?

9) What is the strangest/most bizarre thing you have ever seen? When I was a kid I had a really wild imagination. I was reading "Amityville Horror" and had just got to the part where the house shuts of all the sounds of all these murders taking place in the house; makes it so no one outside can hear the screams coming from the house.

I went to bed and put the book outside the backdoor (in my mind all horror books had to leave the house at night...don't ask...an OCD thing). I closed my eyes to go to sleep and when I opened them I saw Satan on my ceiling: clear as day.

I began to scream and scream to my mom and dad for help (they were in the bedroom above mine), but as loud as I was screaming, no one came to help me for what seemed like forever. I thought my room had shut my screams out like the house in the book I was reading. Suddenly my Dad appeared and was screaming: "What the hell is going on in here?" Satan disappeared and I've never seen him since.

I was obsessed with God/Satan, Heaven/Hell as a kid and wouldn't sleep most nights because I worried so much about what I had done wrong. My family wasn't very religious, so I am not sure why I was so crazy insane about it...anyways I probably imagined the whole thing, but to his day I vividly remember SEEING Satan...not just imagining him.

10) If you were the first to meet a friendly alien what would you tell them about our planet and its inhabitants?
Run for your lives! You don't have a hope in hell of surviving here. We are all about to destroy ourselves. Maybe come back when we are gone.

Outside the Circle

I went to a big party on Thursday. First, I hate big gatherings. Something about them always send me into a dissociative state. Actually I know exactly what it is about them that sends me both metaphorically, and in my mind, literally, out of the room during these occasions: Social Anxiety.

If you met me one on one, in person, your first reaction would be that I am outgoing and social, you may even find me interesting, because I keep up on day to day issues, am well read, educated, talkative, a good conversationalist, caring, kind and interested in your stories. You would believe I had the ability to talk to anyone, because I am usually really good at projecting that persona and, to tell you the truth, I usually can talk to anyone for brief periods of time.

I say usually, because often I approach a social gathering and I feel like I am not really there. It feels like I am sitting on the outside looking in. At these times, even when I am talking to someone I get the impression that the conversation could be carried on without me, and that others are being dismissive, or rejecting me, or that I am brutally uninteresting and my conversation skills have disappeared.

At the party the other day the whole time I felt like an outsider looking in. Some of it may have been the people at the party, but most of it was me. It was a birthday party for one of our friends, who happens to be one of the wealthiest people in this city. His house is a 13000 (yes thousand) square foot heritage home on an acre and a half lot in the exclusive area of the city. Our friends are beautiful people. They are involved in tons of charitable work and do so much for so many organizations here. I really care for them and when I am at there house for a small dinner party I always enjoy their company.

Thursday was different. The guest list was filled with some of the most elite, powerful and wealthiest people in the city. And there I was, no job, no money and a chronic mental illness; feeling like the prospects for my future were slim. It is not the lack of money that made me feel like an outsider, but the lack of a life that felt worthy of being there.

I tried to make conversations with numerous people, and of course the first question out of people's mouths is always, "what do you do"? I decided before the party that I was going to say I taught art classes, which is sort of true. I do volunteer to do that 3 hours a week.

So a party goer would start talking to me, ask me what I did. I would say I teach drawing classes. They would then ask where. I was stupidly unprepared for this question, but impulsively decided to tell the truth. "I teach art at a clubhouse for people with mental illnesses". I may as well have said I have a mental illness. The conversations became stilted and always ended abruptly.

One person asked me where I taught classes and I told them. They said "oh I do work for the Boys and Girls club in that area. I asked him what kind of work he did for the club. He looked at me like I was out of my mind to not know who he was and haughtily said, "I don't WORK there, I am on the board of Directors". He then promptly turned away from me and began talking to someone else. After sitting there staring at their backs while they exclude me from their conversation I finally got up and left the area. I felt like a pariah.

So I spent the rest of the party sitting by myself, having anxiety attacks and just waiting until it felt like I had put in a reasonable amount of "face" time. At 10:00 I excused myself, thanked the hosts and got in my car. I burst out into tears. All I ever want is to feel accepted for who I am.

I can't tell you how many times at that party I just got up and went and sat in the bathroom to get away from the feeling that I was a complete outsider; to feel some relief from an intense, shameful shyness and sensitivity that was making it impossible to interact. The more scared and alone I felt, the more I began having dissociation and feelings of depersonalization.

I am Blessed

All I have to say today is that I have the best psychiatrist on this whole planet He is absolutely unbelieveably consistently supportive. He is so important to me, and it is clear he cares so much for me. I honestly cannot imagine meeting a pdoc I feel more confident in, trust and care for more than Dr. X. Something cosmicly perfect was in the air the day he and I met. We were meant to be patient and doctor. Our session today was heartbreaking, but soul defining.

A Life Not Worth Living

I don't know about all the medications I am on. I feel like stopping everything and seeing what I'm like for "real". I do not see the medications consistently helping me. I felt a surge of okay to good mood for the first while on Prozac, but for the last couple months my mood has been all over the map...up, down, really down, down even farther and up again.

I would have to say my mood overall (in the last 3-4 months) is better than it was before the Prozac and Valium and Tegretol and Dexedrine, but is It good? No way. It is not good. It is still mostly very, very bad.

I do not think of suicide almost everday like I did before, but I still have days and sometimes more where I think suicide is the only choice. Where I dream about how to do it, how to make my life finally end.

I still feel hopeless much of the time. I am so tired I am finding it almost impossible most days to get going. By that I mean the basics like having a shower, brushing my hair, getting dressed in anything other than sweatpants, leaving the house, painting, doing the dishes, cooking, cleaning, do my volunteer work(come on now...it's less than 6 hours a week. How hard can that be? Anything beyond laying in bed, or surfing the internet seems like an impossibly difficult chore.

It is 3:54 and all I have I managed to do today is to get out of bed at 9:00, shower without washing my hair and get dressed at noon, play my guitar for 15 minutes and sit at the computer waiting for 4:00pm when I feel it is a reasonable time to have a nap.

I will nap until 6 or 7pm, not be able to cook dinner, but maybe manage to make myself a fruit/yougurt smoothie, watch t.v. for a couple hours and then feel like it's okay to go to bed and then it will all begin again tomorrow.

This is not a life worth living. This is waiting to die; waiting for it all to be over, waiting for an end to this search and struggle for purpose and meaning in a body that cannot find the will, the power, or the energy to create or develop that purpose and meaning.

In retrospect: Please read this

What if my Depression Is Related to Physical Brain Trauma or Illness?

I am scheduled to undergo a C.A.T. scan of my brain(?) head(?) this Wednesday. I am having some strange problems along with my depression that are worrying me. I am concerned that concussions and head traumas I endured earlier in life may be responsible for both my ongoing, refractory depression and my recent concerns. Here is what I am experiencing:

1) Extreme word retrieval problems. Throughout the day, and almost every time I talk with someone I will go to say something and I cannot find the word or the thing. It is always a simple words I cannot find.

For example, in my session three weeks ago I was describing my learning blues guitar techniques and then how the teacher and I would play together, each listening to the other and making up music that went with the other's playing. There is a word for this. it is simple. As soon as I described it Dr. X. said the word. When I got home it was gone again. After a week of thinking about it it finally came to me a few days ago, and now, for the past 4 days I cannot find the word, even if I try concentrating on the definition for a long period of time. (it is not "accompaniment, or duo, or duet...but something that expresses the making up of the music as you go along...if you think you know the word PLEASE share it with me...it's driving me mad)

2) Confusion/concentration/memory problems.
I feel a sense of being elsewhere (not dissociation) but confused easily by directions, where I am in my car, driving etc. I feel like I cannot stay on task for any length of time, my mind is constantly wandering from thing to thing. I put things down and can't find them a few minutes later. I walk into a room and cannot remember why I am there. I am putting things in strange places. The other day I was looking for the disinfectant wipes I keep on the kitchen counter. I had just used them. I looked everywhere; cupboards, bathroom, other room in the house..then 2 hours later I found them in the fridge of all places.

3) Saying strange things/speaking strangely.
Examples:

• My husband asked me why I wasn't watching T.V. I wanted to say "It's a commercial", instead what came out of my mouth was "It's a nude"...it was disconcerting.
• Then that same day I tried to say something and I started to speak, but it came out as a stutter. I couldn't get it out. I've never stuttered before in my life.
• Then last night I went to say "Turn it down" (the T.V.), but what came out was "make it soft."...which is sort of similar, but not what I meant to say....it's like my brain is shuffling my words.

4) I am tripping and falling and bumping into things much more than usual.

I have fallen and hurt myself 3 times in the past two weeks, before that I almost fell through our front window and about a month and a half ago I fell all the way down my sister's staircase. I am tripping all the time.

On Thursday I told Dr. X about all the head injuries I have had. I am pretty sure I told him before, but he said I hadn't. I have had two confirmed concussions (once at 5 or 6) when I fell from a 12 step stair landing headfirst onto the pavement below, and then at 17 when I was in a really bad car accident.

Over and above that I have had to have stitches due to head injuries twice, once at 16 when I dove into the pool and hit my head on the lifeguard chair's diving ramp and the other when I fell headfirst off my bicycle. I hit my head on the side of the pool in a diving accident. I fell at the pool at the top of the water slide and knocked myself out for a few seconds; I incurred a compression fracture in my spine in that fall, I was bucked of a horse into the hole we had dug to build our new house, again landing head and arm first...and the last one I remember was rollerblading for the first time (and of course being an idiot with no helmet...my feet went straight out from under me and I landed back of head first on the pavement. I ha a massive egg shaped swelling where I landed.

Anyways, I started thinking, what if my depression is caused by an undiagnosed brain injury. Does medication help if it is a brain injury that leads to mood disorders? (I know that can happen because the girl I was in the car accident with had severe mood changes and personality changes following the accident). I also am worried the problems I am having might indicate an illness above and beyond my depression.

My BRAND NEW car!!!

This may appear to have nothing to do with my depression, but it is closely linked to my becoming more resilient. My new car symbolizes an increased desire to live. That may not make sense to anyone, but here's why I say that.

I have needed a new, or at least newer car, since I began seeing Dr. X. more than 6.5 years ago. The car I had was a 1986 car and always having problems. When my mom passed away Dr. X. and I discussed my getting a new/newer car. I refused as spending that amount of money, when I didn't think I was going to live much longer, did not make any sense to me. I did not want to spend money on a car when I could leave it to my husband instead. I did not want to live, and did not see myself in the future. Dr. X. and discussed this numerous times over the past couple years. He understood how symbolic a gesture it would be for me to buy a car.

On top of my not seeing myself existing in the future, I had intense panic and anxiety about going to the dealership, test driving cars, dealing with salesmen etc. Just thinking about trying to do that felt like an impossible task. These fears revolved around my difficulties dealing with men, anyone I saw as an "authority" figure, my fears of embarrassment and a million other fears. I would try to walk onto the car lot and then I would have to leave because I couldn't breathe, or felt like I was going to pass out with fear.

A month and a bit ago my sister came over and she helped me go look at cars and test drive a couple. It was easier with her there. She understood my fear and we had a plan to deal with the salespeople as a team, so I felt safer, protected, supported. I was inching my way towards getting a new car.

To push me a little closer towards a purchase I was about to lose access to the vehicle I was driving. For the past two years I had been borrowing my husband's truck (and he was driving my old car). Each year cars here are tested for carbon emissions; and this year there was absolutely no way my car was not going to pass aircare without expensive repairs to it's exhaust system. My husband wanted his truck back. We live on a farm and the only way to get off the farm is by car, there is no public transportation out here.

So, about three weeks ago, fueled by my fear I was going to get stuck on the farm forever, and the beauty of a pretty okay day (maybe fueled by a tiny bit more valium to calm be down), in terms of mood and anxiety, I called up the dealership and made arrangements to purchase a new car. It was an act towards deciding I was going to stick around for a while; that the car and the money I spent on it was not going to be wasted because I was going to be here to use that car.

Yesterday I bought and picked up my BRAND NEW car...just 3km on it when I drove it off the lot. I have never owned a new car before. I am very excited and I absolutely love it. Yay me!

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"

Recurring Nightmare

My latest painting. I have no title yet. It represents a nightmare I have over and over again, where I am being chased through the woods and some kind of post apocolyptic landscape full of broken down buildings and homes, tons of rubble and cement everywhere.

I run, and I run all the while screaming help me, help me! My husband and Dad stand off at the side and watch. No one tries to help me.

Finally, in desperation I climb up onto a big peice of cement to try to save myself, but I fall. The wolf is snarling and on top of me. He is foaming at the mouth and he is about to bite my head or neck and I always wake up at this point absolutely terrified.

When I wake I can't tell if it was a dream, or real. Usually I have to go to the bathroom upon waking, but I am too scared to get out of bed. It usually takes me a couple minutes or more before I calm down, realize it is a dream and am able to climb out of bed.