Wife, mom of 3 beautiful children, dog lover, creative sole and children's book Author. Sharing my journey with depression and anxiety through blogging in hopes of educating and ending the stigma.
I know in my heart that suicide is not my only option. It’s the feeling you get though when you believe that you’ve exhausted all other options or are driven by such despair.
It muddles my better judgment.
It consumes me day and night.
It overwhelms me.
It drowns out everything and everyone who tries to stand in my way.
It’s stubborn and persistent.
These very vivid thoughts and pursuits of suicide I’ve been experiencing more and more of late are incredibly loud, confusing, scary and so excruciatingly lonely.
They don’t leave me alone.
I’m conflicted though.
They keep showing up in my dreams lately, like ALOT. I see myself standing alone, in the aftermath and filled with regret; these images are probably a good thing, right?
I just want peace.
But even if there are still other options to pursue, I’m simply burnt out. How long is a person supposed to wait until they find some kind of relief?
I spoke with my Psychiatrist this afternoon and caught him up on everything that’s gone on since our last appointment a couple of weeks ago. Like I said above, it’s been ALOT.
In the meantime though, since our last appointment he’s been working diligently to expedite those “other options” with specialists whom I’ve been waiting months to see and it seems that both his persistence and belief that those “other options” do still exist for me paid off because I received notifications for not just one but TWO appointments this week.
One such appointment is unfortunately still 2 months away with a specialist who last December when I had an initial consultation with his assistant said he was uncertain if he could help me but he is at least willing to meet me to do an actual examination. He specializes in pelvic reconstructive surgery and urogynaecology (it will be exactly one year at the time of my appointment that I’ve been waiting to see him!). The other appointment I received notification for just this afternoon via an email is set for the middle of this month. It’s with the Neurologist who is in charge of the “Deep Brain Stimulation” research trial that my Psychiatrist asked me to explore near the end of last year (if you missed it or are interested in learning more, click here: https://wheredidmommyssmilego.com/2022/11/29/consultation-with-doctor-for-deep-brain-stimulation-clinical-trial/).
My purpose of meeting with him is to discuss the clinical study in more detail in relation to my treatment resistant depression, but I am also hoping that he can give me some more insight and options to help me with my Neurological issues as well.
I know in my heart that suicide is not my only option and for now, I promise you that I will continue to keep all options on the table.
Feel free to follow my Blog at: youareenough712.wordpress.com
I’m struggling alot today since hearing the news that someone who had been admired by so many in my community has died by suicide. He was just 53 years old.
He was a true beacon of light and a pillar of strength to so many in our community and spent much of his time volunteering on so many different projects and non-profits. He was dedicated to our community and did so with such pride. He made an impact on every life he touched, both young and old alike, especially during his time volunteering as a crossing guard at a nearby school and running his own hockey league.
Everyone he met along his neighborhood travels will remember him for his friendly hellos and welcoming smiles; but what most of us never knew was that in more recent times, he was smiling through a battle with depression. “Smiling Depression” can be one of the most deadliest forms of depression because a person often feels as though they need to keep up appearances and power through their daily commitments as per usual, leading them to suffer in silence.
He and I were friends on Facebook but I didn’t know him very well personally. We’d only had some brief encounters over the years through Facebook where he’d engage on my posts from time to time as well as when he had reached out to me several years ago to ask me to be an admin on an online community website.
I certainly cannot speak to his suffering which ultimately led him to take his own life, nor do any of us on the outside looking in know the extent of his pain but today as I struggle to make sense of this tragic loss I’m feeling like I failed him somehow. I’m left wondering if he ever thought of reaching out to me for an empathetic ear like so many others do. I’m left wondering if I could have helped support him or made him feel less alone.
I know that I always have a strong urge to “fix” everyone. I want to save everyone around me before I even think about saving myself. I know in my heart though that it’s unrealistic and simply not possible. But for now I will keep on writing and sharing my story for as long as I am able to with the hope that I am saving lives.
RIP. You will be sorely missed by your beautiful family, friends and an entire community ❤️
I thought today was a good day to do a mental health check in. Feel free to add a heart or two. And remember I am here if you ever need to reach out.
Trigger Warning ⚠️ Very sensitive material, may be too difficult for some people to read; talk of M.A.I.D (Medical Assistance in Dying), suicidal thoughts
I just got home from seeing my therapist. I really needed her help today navigating my way through a number of moving parts in my life, mostly the ones which aren’t currently working for me that is.
To say my life is complicated at the moment would be an understatement and I’m not gonna lie but M.A.I.D continues to still be top of mind for me.
Earlier this week a Facebook memory of a Blog I’d written a year ago popped up. It completely triggered me; those darn memories can be both a blessing and a curse. That particular post has since become a curse.
It was a year ago this past week when I received a date for when I was to begin the clinical research trial for Psilocybin (aka: Magic Mushrooms). The date given was April 2, 2022. I had so much hope in my heart ❤️ for the next 5 weeks as I anxiously awaited my turn.
I titled that Blog “Uncharted Waters” (feel free to click here to read it:
“Uncharted waters or uncharted territory can refer literally to places not yet explored, but it can also be used figuratively to refer to unfamiliar situations in general.“~Webster Dictionary, which is exactly what this trial was, given that it was the first of its kind in Canada and I was about to be one of approximately 15 lucky little lab rats to participate in unexplored and unfamiliar territory.
Most of you reading this already know what followed next and the neurological damage that occurred due to the treatment which has continued to make my life completely unmanageable for close to a year now with daily bouts of brain zaps, constant tingling in my hands and feet, numbness, muscle aches and shooting pains in my arms and legs, an intolerance to any type of noise, near blinding vision during severe flare-ups, tics and tremors throughout my entire body all day long and unrelenting and debilitating sensations, throbbing and spasms day in and day out in my nether regions (if you would like to learn more about this last one click here: https://youareenough712.wordpress.com/2022/09/20/tmi/).
What I have been dealing with physically over the past year has only added to the further demise in my mental health which is why I recently began exploring medical assistance in dying (M.A.I.D) because I just can’t live like this anymore, especially after what I went through last month while in crisis. I’m exhausted and I feel trapped. Medication is no longer an option for me and I continue to fail every treatment I try for both my mental and physical wellbeing. Over the last year I’ve left many specialists speechless and many others unwilling to even see me, turning down every new referral my Psychiatrist makes as they do not have enough knowledge or expertise in treating my very rare, incurable nether region’s condition. I’ve continued to try and keep some hope in my heart that if one part can be treated, then maybe, just maybe it would help to settle down the other moving parts as well. But at the same time I no longer hold out for much hope at all ever since one Neurologist said to me last summer, “A circuit broke in your brain the day of my treatment and ‘hopefully’ it will fix itself one day!” I just wanna know when the heck “one day” will be?
My emotions are running quite high right now, as are those of my loved ones, friends and care team too. But for my own peace I really need to take the necessary steps at this time to see if this is what I want or if it’s even an option for me at all which is why earlier this week I made the initial phone call to speak with an intake coordinator after my Psychiatrist had forwarded me a direct link to the M.A.I.D program at the Ministry of Health a few days prior. I didn’t know what next steps looked like exactly but the kind lady on the phone guided me through to the next step, asking me some general questions, then created a chart for me and told me that a nurse practitioner would call me over the next day or so. She called around 7pm that same day. We spent about a half an hour on the phone asking me a more indepth list of personal questions in order to find out more about my reasons for calling. She reviewed the entire process with me and told me that because of my physical symptoms that have caused further ‘grievous’ and are ‘irremediable’, intolerable and cannot be relieved under conditions that are considered acceptable she would submit a request for a “Care Connector” to call me next to see if there is a Clinician available to take on my case.”
I received another call the next day from a “Care Coordinator”. She started off by apologizing to me as she informed me that my case is considered what they call a “Track 2” case which simply means that although my “illness, disease or disability or state of decline causes me enduring physical or psychological suffering” death is not imminent and that due to their enormous backlog right now they are only taking on cases at the moment where death is foreseeable and certain to happen soon. She told me to call back in mid to late April when she hopes their “Assessors” will have caught up by then. I suddenly felt like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz when she finally reached the palace in Emerald City for the first time.
In the meantime though she told me to keep fighting and keep building my case by having my care team continue to find new specialists to see and asked that I speak with my GP to also see if she has any other networks or colleagues who may be involved with M.A.I.D.
I hadn’t told my GP as of yet that I had been considering M.A.I.D., that was until we spoke late Thursday afternoon and like with everyone else, I caught her completely off guard but also like with everyone else she was very respectful of my wishes even if like with everyone else, it’s not what she wants to see happen to me.
She made several suggestions and promised to call some other specialists, a Neurologist she knows being one of them as well as a Professor who I had been emailing with back in the summer for advice. She is a Professor at a very prestigious University in Kingston, Ontario, has her PHD and is an expert in the area of care I am so desperately in need of right now and basically the only one who seems to exist in Canada so my GP is hoping she may actually see patients but I am not certain she actually does. She wants to speak to her in particular about nerve blockers.
Before we wrapped up our nearly one hour phone call I mentioned to her about a world renowned Guru I’d found through lots and lots of research, testimonials, a Facebook group I now belong to and several specialists I’ve seen who have all referred to his 100’s of research papers (through their own Google searches) he’s published on the topic of my nether region’s condition (well people call him the Guru but he is an actual doctor of sexual medicine). I can see from the Facebook group alone just how many women he has helped throughout his very lengthy career. Women just like me. The main problem however is he lives in San Diego, California (but ironically he got his initial medical degree at McGill University in Montreal) and the cost involved to go see him would be unattainable for me. I know it’s a real long shot though but my doctor told me that OHIP (Ontario’s health coverage) will sometimes pay for expenses and/or treatments like mine (which has been deemed a persistent neurological condition) through their “compassionate care program” for specialized treatments not available here in Ontario so I decided to give his office a call that night and book the 10 minute free consult with him that he offers on his website. I was able to get an appointment for next month with one of his colleagues who they promised have all been trained extensively by the Guru himself.
I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful, caring team of healthcare professionals supporting me every step of the way. I can’t honestly tell you where my steps will take me next but I do know it certainly makes the path I’m on right now feel a whole lot easier knowing I’m not walking it alone.
“Sometimes it’s the saddest people who smile the brightest all because they do not wish to see anyone else feel the pain they feel.” ~ Anonymous
It’s been a really long week for me even though, technically it’s actually been a short one due to this past Monday having been a holiday in Ontario.
I’m beyond overwhelmed and trying desperately to hold it all together most days right now and the constant demands I’m facing during my workday are only adding to my fate.
I found myself needing an escape from my office several times today in order to reset and try and collect myself again.
As it is, I have to force myself to take a lunch break most days because there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I feel like I’m constantly bailing water out from a sinking boat.
Taking mini-breaks throughout the workday or in any stressful situation for that matter I know is ok; even if I feel really guilty doing so and can sometimes feel an increase in my anxiety level.
But in not doing so when feeling the overwhelm or when learning to walk away when needed will only create further burnout and decrease one’s level of productivity in no time.
So today I took the necessary mini-breaks I needed. I had a good cry in the washroom, I did some breathing exercises, I reset my brain, put a smile back on my face and pulled myself together long enough to continue my day all because I chose to remove myself from my workspace for a few moments at a time.
I’m wearing this gentle reminder hoodie today to honour every child who has ever felt the devastating impact of being bullied. Let’s honour them by wearing pink today on “Pink Shirt Day” and send a message to the world that our words matter.
It’s been just over two months since I started my new job. For those of you who don’t know, I haven’t held a full-time job since Friday April 4th, 2014 at exactly 5pm when I ran (not walked) out of my employer’s place of business. I ran (not walked) to my car, shaken and crying. I had begun to fear for my safety weeks earlier when I started to quietly observe my boss and his partner partaking in some pretty illegal shit and on that particular day my fears turned into a nightmare, only problem was, I was wide awake during it.
When I got to my car at 5pm I texted Rich, telling him that I wanted to kill myself before shutting off my phone. I had never experienced these types of thoughts before in my 40 something years. It was in that very moment my mental health journey first began.
I didn’t go home that evening. How could I? I felt like I’d failed everyone. I felt purposeless. I felt like my loved ones would be better off without me and sadly, almost 9 years later I’m still feeling those exact same emotions and more.
When I started back to working full-time again a couple of months ago after such a long hiatus, whether I was ready to or not (news flash, I was not), I hoped that it would create a positive shift in my life but instead it’s done the opposite for me and has only created further overwhelm and stress on my mental and physical health as well as my personal life because my job itself is extremely overwhelming and stressful; something I never imagined it to be.
I didn’t disclose too much to my employer as to the extent of my illness upon hiring me but at the same time I also never led her to believe that I was no longer struggling with my mental health either. All she really had to do was google me to find out all she needed to know about me if she really wanted to, which from what I can gather she never did!
My resume though speaks volumes as to the journey my life has been on for many years now. It’s filled with my passion for mental health advocacy which I happily expanded upon during the interview process, including my many achievements in the more recent years having published a children’s book and my labour of love about a mother’s journey with Depression, having started a Blog which chronicles my own personal journey living with a mental illness and having created several initiatives to raise awareness and support for youth mental health.
A survey done just before the Pandemic showed that 75 percent of people in work places suffering with a mental illness do not share it with their employer or utilize many of the benefits offered from a place of employment for fear that they will look weak or for fear they will lose their job.
Yet another tragic stat.
I am not ashamed to share my most intimate thoughts and feelings with the world when it comes to my mental health battle which I guess is quite evident by now but I’ve also never faced being an employee with an illness that is still so stigmatized until now either and I’m struggling with just how much I share with my employer (I have spoken to her briefly about my neurological health condition as she noticed my physical issues almost immediately after I started working and had asked several times if I was okay).
Since starting work mid December my mental health has been on a steady decline as many who follow me regularly have seen through my blogging but I have perfected over time the art of smiling through my Depression in certain scenarios; work now being one of them. So when I showed up late to work one Monday afternoon a few weeks ago after sending my employer an email earlier that morning letting her know I had an appointment I’d forgotten I had scheduled late last year, I was lying. The truth was I was actually in the emergency room on a Psychiatric Form after being taken to the hospital in handcuffs the evening before by police officers which Rich had called while I was in a near psychotic mental health crisis.
There was no way in hell she could ever find that out. All I kept thinking as I begged the nurses and doctors to let me go home was if she knew what had happened I’d be fired immediately, or if the Psychiatrist had not allowed me to go home that day what was I going to tell her?
I am doing the best I know how to right now at work (and in life in general). I’m showing up every day and working my ass off through the constant stress and overwhelm of my position, in fact I’m actually doing a pretty damn good job, something I’ve been recognized and acknowledged for time and again thus far. If only I could believe it though.
I know I don’t owe my boss anything more than she may or may not already know about my personal life if it’s not affecting my ability to perform my job duties as my mental health journey should not define me as an employee, or in any other aspect of my life for that matter. I know in my heart that I am so much more than my illness, but to be honest, I feel like such a fraud right now. I believe that no one should ever suffer in silence and that sharing your vulnerabilities with others is the most important thing we can do in order to feel less overwhelmed and alone but that stigma still follows us everywhere we go (I am grateful though to work with an amazing group of co-workers who I am able to share my vulnerabilities with as do they with me).
It’s been a really confusing time for me due to my mental health decline lately and the imposter syndrome I am facing at work is only adding to that decline. The feeling that I am not good enough for this job or that my boss will soon realize she hired the wrong candidate hangs over me during my work days but the other day as my boss wrapped up a meeting and her and I were alone in the room she said to me, “Can I ask you something quite personal?” Well you can only imagine where my anxiety took me to in that very moment. I had no idea where this conversation was about to go. She then took a deep breath and began to open up to me with tears in her eyes about her loved one who has been under psychiatric care at the local hospital in her area for about a month now, battling postpartum depression. She so desperately needed some advice from someone who could empathize with her on how she and other family members could better understand what her loved one is going through and how once she is released from the hospital they can better support her.
She may not know the depth of my suffering but in that very moment it didn’t matter to her. She trusted me enough to share something so raw and personal. She made me realize my value and purpose and made it ok for me to know that if I ever need to come to her at any point in time when I’m feeling overwhelmed or vulnerable that I don’t need to hide behind my mask; it felt like a big relief for me going forward.
I am planning on gifting her loved one a signed copy of my book this week to share with her family when she is back home (she also has another child as well) and to remind her that she too is enough (btw, my boss read my book a few weeks ago).
P.S. I pray that one day we can get to a place where every place of employment will begin to offer proper training on mental health to both their employees and employers along with regular wellness checks and team building seminars.
I was overwhelmed with so much emotion as I entered the corridor. I took note right away of where the closest restrooms were just in case I needed to make a quick exit.
There were familiar faces at every turn from people I’ve known for almost 40 years of my life; most of whom I hadn’t seen in probably a decade or more.
My fear of rejection I’d projected in my own mind as I made my way through the corridor to the coat check area, quickly slipped away with each genuine and warm embrace I received along the way.
I shed both tears of sadness and tears of joy last night.
Throughout the evening I caught up with old friends as we shared in meaningful conversations. I shared in the laughter with each new connection I made and with those same familiar faces who had greeted me in the corridor earlier that evening with genuine and warm embraces.
I was present in each moment.
Depression can challenge many of your relationships; trust me I know that feeling all too well. I only wish though that more people could understand that:
“Depression doesn’t diminish a person’s desire to connect with other people, just their ability.” ~Bill Bernat
But when you are lucky enough to find the right people in your life; the people that is who aren’t afraid to sit with you in silence or cry with you during the difficult moments or who let you know by either their words or actions just how much it means to them every time you do show up; those are the relationships worth fighting for and the ones I will always show up for.
Once upon a time when I felt confident in my own skin I loved dressing up. I loved a good party with music and dancing too. My illness destroyed all that for me long ago. But as I put on the finishing touches before heading out the door to celebrate with one of my oldest and dearest friends and her beautiful family at the Bat Mitzvah of their daughter tonight, a night I’ve had in my calendar for over a year now, I am not going to allow the distorted reflection I see staring back at me in the mirror hold my mind hostage this evening or try and ruin my night by spreading vicious lies or untruths.
I am also taking some backup ammunition with me as well tonight to help try and avoid a wicked flare-up from happening to my body this evening which is most likely to occur from all the loud and amplified noises in the room and vibrations from the music (just one of the many fun neurological issues I now live with daily since my treatment last April).
*Trigger Warning ⚠️, sensitive topic: please do not read if you feel it could be triggering; talk of suicide, medical assistance in dying (M.A.I.D), treatment resistant depression.
Depression is living without hope. It’s living with a lack of interest in the things that once brought you joy. It’s living with the difficulty to focus on stuff. It’s living with a cloud of darkness hovering overhead. It’s living with constant fatigue whether you sleep for days on end or a few hours a week. It’s living with the feeling that you want to die.
Depression is not one size fits all, it is so many different things to so many different people but the one thing I can tell you for sure is, it can be a very lonely place to live.
When I was first diagnosed with Depression back in April of 2014 my doctor prescribed me my first antidepressant; a week or two later she got me in to see a Psychiatrist who then added another medication into the mix.
They didn’t work, and boy was I ever naive as to what was still yet to come.
I have since spent the better part of 9 years trying over 20 different concoctions of antidepressants, all of which caused further damage to my body and mind (and I finally needed to come off them all together), alongside one failed treatment after another. ECT, Ketamine, acupuncture, natural remedies, CBT, support groups, inpatient programs, Neurofeedback and Psilocybin have been among them; but to be honest, I’ve lost count as to how many others there have been.
It wasn’t too long into my journey, I think a couple of years at most, when I was further diagnosed as having what’s commonly known as “treatment resistant depression”.
A third of all people diagnosed with Depression do not respond to treatment which can in turn raise the risk of suicide among those living with persistent depression.
I’ve been to that very dark and scary side too many times to count throughout my journey, but none more than I have over the last year; a year that I recently described as being, by far; the hardest, cruelest, toughest year of my life emotionally, physically and personally.
All I’ve ever truly wanted over the last 9 years is to be able to live life again. I’ve kept fighting time and again through every failed attempt at medications and treatments for something, anything at all, to finally spark some glimmer of hope but with each passing day I feel like that goal is near impossible, especially since the sudden onset of all my neurological issues that occured last April after participating in the Psilocybin clinical study; only adding more fuel to the fire and creating so many additional roadblocks for me.
He was conflicted but obliging to my wishes and asked for some time while he did some more research on it for me which included reaching out to a colleague of his to share my story with him and gain further incite.
He told me yesterday that the network which his hospital works under no longer offers M.A.I.D to their patients and that it has all been moved to a Provincial/Central Intake Department now which I would need to connect with directly to find out what and when or if I’d be eligible under its new legislation. He forwarded me the necessary information and contact details via email right after my appointment, assuring me that he would help me fill out any required forms I may need signed by him to complete the process when the time comes. He also let me know that my case most likely falls under a very gray area right now.
I’ve survived so much over the past 9 years that has meant to destroy me, much of which I feel already has. I plan to make that initial phone call next week. It doesn’t mean I will pursue it any further than that right now but for my own mental health and peace of mind I need to at least collect all the necessary data, data that may or may not help keep me going while I continue searching for that glimmer of hope.
A wise friend told me recently that she sees me as that last stubborn bowling pin that refuses to fall down, let’s just hope she’s right.
I received a follow up phone call this afternoon from the complaint I made a few weeks ago to my local police department in reference to the incident that took place in my home on the evening of January 15th (in case you missed it, click here: https://wheredidmommyssmilego.com/2023/01/21/i-need-to-be-that-voice/).
The officer had originally reached out to me about a week ago via email letting me know that he had been assigned to my OIPRD Public Complaint for investigation and wanted to take the opportunity to discuss the concerns addressed in my complaint, as well as the OIPRD mandated modes of resolution.
We arranged a time for him to call me today over my lunch hour. He told me he is a retired police officer who is now an Investigator with the Internal Civilian Investigations board.
Although he had read through my letter in preparation for our call he wanted to hear from me personally what had happened that night and what he can do to help.
We spoke for close to an hour. He listened intently and asked me to share my journey with him over the last 9 years and what ultimately led to the event in my home last month. He said that although he can’t ever begin to know how I feel he said he can definitely understand how difficult my fight for survival has been, especially over the past year. He was genuinely concerned for my safety and wellbeing in the moment.
He then apologized for what I’d gone through with the police officers last month even though he knew I was not blaming the actual officers themselves who I’d reiterated were kindhearted and just following the department’s policies and procedures. He then admitted to me that although he has seen many important changes take place during his long career with the police force in how they conduct themselves when dealing with people in mental health crisis, he knows that it’s still nowhere near where it needs to be. He also admitted that unfortunately the YRP department, (York Regional Police, who I dealt with) are one of several departments who still have very limiting resources.
Before our call ended he spoke briefly about the mental health support team who works with their police department and asked if it would be okay if he reached out to them “immediately following our call” to get their incite on my story. He continued by saying that he strongly believes that my story needs attention and knows how important it is for officers to look at how they can do better by listening to people and advocates like myself sharing their experiences and giving their personal input in order for these necessary changes to be made.
He said he would follow up with another phone call soon…As I hung up the phone I felt my voice being heard.
YouAreEnough 
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