Category: Acceptance

What Will It Matter

In the wake of Hollywood’s latest scandal I have found myself engrossed in all its details and not only because of how disappointed I am in “Aunt Becky” but mostly because I see the damage it’s caused from a mental health perspective.

I’ve already been through the process of applying to University programs with two of my kids and in less than a year from now I will be doing it again for a third time so I know what it’s like. The process is stressful on everyone involved but sometimes as parents we make the process far more burdensome than it needs to be. Sometimes we may think we are doing what’s right for our kids but deep down it may just be our way of trying to fill our own void, doing more harm than good to them in the process. I mean heck, they are still kids when they begin the process in the first place so why wouldn’t we try and bias them. And let us not forget that only a few months prior to the start of University, while trying to make these life altering adult decisions regarding the rest of their lives, they were sitting in a high school classroom needing to raise their fricken hand to ask permission to go to the bathroom.

So I know that it’s hard as parents to want to do whatever we can for our kids if we think it will be in the best interest for their future but what’s most important to remember is that we need to listen to our children more than ever and stop pressuring them to be something we want them to be or what may look best to “The Joneses”. We quickly forget that all kids are different and that all kids have different needs as well.

Maybe if I had had more support and encouragement during this process back when I was in high school I wouldn’t have surrendered to the pressure from my parents or society and maybe I would have chosen a much different path, one that was better suited to my needs and wants. And even though it’s been over 25 years it has been a huge part of my pain and suffering over the last 5 years, something I never want my kids to feel because the pressures that teenagers and young adults face today are insurmountable compared to all other generations before them and it is taking a toll on their mental health like never before.

I never want my kids to feel like they were pressured to choose a career path they didn’t want or become someone their not. I want them to feel like they have the confidence and control over their own destination because of the support and encouragement they were given. And trust me when I say they have needed lots of it along the way thus far. You see, sadly at the end of the day, it’s the kids who wind up suffering the most, not the parents (unless your Aunt Becky). “Aunt Becky” didn’t listen to her kid’s needs or their desires and just saw the prestige and admiration from the Hollywood elite (or The Joneses in layman’s terms), or maybe she put her own needs first and felt the need to sit on the sidelines while bragging to the world (which seemed to be often) and forgetting how little it will matter in the end or who’s lives it may destroy.

Will it matter in the end that your kid got an early acceptance to the program they wanted or will it matter in the end if they don’t get into that dream school they wanted or will it matter in the end if they took a different path altogether? No, none of that will matter in the end. All that will matter in the end is that their successes, their failures and their future happiness always be supported and encouraged by you because all that will truly matter in the end is that they feel happy, healthy and empowered in spite of it all.

In Memory Of Lance: Our Broken Healthcare System

A couple of weeks ago I shared a post on Facebook which originated from the York Regional Police website in regards to a missing person in Thornhill. It’s sadly not uncommon to see such posts being shared by so many of us but this time around for me it wasn’t just a nameless face I was staring at on the screen but instead it was a face of a man that I had known since I was 8 years old. We both moved to Thornhill around the same time and attended the same Elementary and High School together. Our paths first crossed the year I had moved from Montreal and Lance had immigrated all the way from South Africa.

When the initial shock wore off I quickly became flooded with memories of a guy I once considered a friend. I remembered how funny he was, I remembered his beautiful smile, I remembered how disciplined he was, I remembered what a thriving gymnast he was (through his adolescent and teenage years he worked his butt off as a gymnast with the Canadian National Gymnastics team), I remembered how he fought so hard to pursue his dreams to the fullest and I remembered how much all the girls in Elementary school chased after him. And although we had gone our separate ways after High School I never forgot about my friend Lance and all those memories.

The only real contact we have had in the last 10 plus years was through Social Media but other than knowing he had become a lawyer, I didn’t know much more. He kept a very quiet presence on Facebook and I had no idea that a few days later after seeing his missing person picture all over Facebook that I would learn his fate and that Lance was no longer considered a missing person but instead that he had succumb to his battle with mental illness.

Every time I hear about another suicide it completely throws me into a tailspin but when I read about Lance’s lifelong struggles today through an article that was recently written by a Crime and Justice Reporter in connection to an interview conducted with both Lance’s mom and dad I became even more angry and even more saddened to learn the details of his pain and suffering. He battled with many mental illnesses, but his severe OCD is what began his demise, crippling his ability to function and ultimately leading to other diagnosis’s of depression and anxiety.

His parents talk at great length in the article about Lance’s struggle to find the proper treatment he so desperately yearned for and their heartbreaking words so sadly resonated with me, knowing that I face the same obstacles everyday with that same broken Mental Healthcare System. Their words made me feel so disheartened for him and every other individual struggling to find that proper treatment. It is so distressing just knowing how many other people like Lance or myself also feel so ostracized and stigmatized because of their mental illness.

The sad reality is that Lance’s story isn’t an isolated one, I mean I talk in great length and often about how broken our Mental Healthcare System is and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better with each new day or each new obstacle I face. This is why it’s more important than ever to talk, cry or shout about how badly our system is failing you or maybe your mom, your brother, your best friend or your own child. We have to be the voice and keep fighting to let all the Lance’s out there know that their lives were not lost in vain.

Feel free to read the article I referenced above.
https://www.yorkregion.com/news-story/9223123-frustration-of-life-health-care-system-claims-thornhill-athlete-ocd-sufferer/

My Vicious Circle

Depression and anxiety suck the life right out of me, both literally and figuratively. They make me feel inferior. They make me feel angry. They make me feel exhausted. They make me lose my sense of self-worth and they make me lose my will to live. Basically to sum it all up in one word, depression and anxiety make me feel useless.

Depression and anxiety create a vicious circle for me, one which can cause injurious results when trying to change one bad situation or behaviour that may be caused by another situation or behaviour and in turn often causes more damage to the original situation.

I try, I really do. I can even present myself to the world sometimes as eager and enthusiastic when I engage in tasks or chores that may be seen as appealing and enjoyable to most people but for me these simple tasks and chores quickly create a newer or greater problem by exasperating the old one and triggering a continuum of that vicious circle. Those seemingly simple tasks or chores rapidly become too overwhelming, too intimidating and darn right near impossible to follow through with, creating a wall (way bigger than Trump’s wall) which I don’t have the strength to climb over, precipitating further anxiety, panic and self-hate.

At first my eagerness and enthusiasm seem like a great idea, especially when looking on from the outside in. I want so badly to prove to the world that I can do it, but then without warning those emotions fabricated by my depression and anxiety cause me to feel worse, cause me to feel like a failure and most definitely cause me to feel useless. It’s as though I will never be able to accomplish anything at all and these overburdening emotions have taken away my will to want do anything at all anymore.

I know that several of my current situations I’m dealing with (and there are many) I have to approach in their own distinct manner as they all have their own distinct set of attributes but once I take a step back, take in a few deep breaths, ask myself some very important questions, set some very important boundaries, cry, yell and berate myself further I just feel more overwhelmed and muddled. I’m desperately trying to stop my vicious circle from continuing to spin out of control because listening to that voice in your head tell you all the time that you are incapable of achieving anything really can make anyone feel useless.

Dear Abby; Signed “Disheartened”

I used to love reading Dear Abby when I was a kid as I’m sure many of you did too (but it’s certainly okay if you were more of a closet reader). I had no idea until this week that Dear Abby was still such a thing, I mean never mind the fact that she died about 6 years ago at the age of 94, but who actually takes the time to sit down and write a letter with a pen and paper these days? (But kudos to you if you do!) Well the good news is that upon further research I discovered that you can still write to Dear Abby with a pen, a piece of paper and a stamped envelope or you can also visit her Facebook page (or website) and send your letter via email too! Phew!! Oh and I should also probably point out as well that her daughter Jeanne took over her very publicized advice column many, many, many moons ago.

So now back to why I started writing this in the first place (I tend to lose my train of thought quite easily these days). As I mentioned above, I happened upon one of Dear Abby’s millions of letters she receives as it pertained to mental health (but of course) and it popped up in my newsfeed from a site I follow and trust immensely. What I read was truly heartbreaking on so many levels, but from a mental health perspective her “advice” was both disheartening and alarming.

The letter was signed “Done With It”. In the letter the reader explained to Dear Abby that he had been suffering with severe depression and suicidal thoughts for many years now and that he was recently diagnosed with Cancer too. He wrote to her to ask her for advice as to whether or not he should share his Cancer diagnosis with his family as he felt that he just wanted to leave his Cancer untreated and let it end his life so he didn’t have to suffer any more.

How I believed Dear Abby would respond to her reader next and how she actually did were both shocking and frightening. I believed she would encourage him to reach out for help, lean on his loved ones and then give him some inspiring words of hope. But instead she did the unimaginable and erased every single bit of faith I had in someone with such an incredible opportunity to help millions of their trusted readers looking to her for aspiration. She told him that “if you have truly made up your mind to refuse treatment, I vote for not telling them, which could be construed as trying to put them on a guilt trip.”

A guilt trip? Are you kidding me? Opening up to others about your ideations of suicide whether they are passive or active ones should never be construed as a guilt trip. Take it from someone who lives with guilt every single day for feeling like a burden to those who love me and blaming myself for all that is wrong in the world while feeling like everyone would just be better off without me. It’s not guilt, it’s my reality, it’s my family’s reality and it’s the reality for millions of other vulnerable individuals reading Dear Abby’s “advice” and feeling shame for being alive.

Instead of using her platform to discourage a person from wanting to take their own life she all but encouraged him to just give up trying to beat both his depression and cancer. In my opinion she made him and many other hopeless individuals feel like it was the most practical option, like hey, what other choice do you have at this point, there’s no help for you and your life doesn’t matter to anyone.

So Dear Abby I have some advice for you this time; be careful how you choose your words next time. We have come so far in our fight to end the stigma against mental illness and you just took us back a generation or two with your isolating vocabulary. Maybe it’s time for you to pass the torch on like your mom did all those years ago, but hey if Dr. Ruth is still giving advice about sex at age 90 then maybe you aren’t ready for retirement at age 77! But the difference is Dr. Ruth’s advice isn’t a matter of life or death to someone you love.

BEEN THERE, DONE THAT! NO “SPECIAL K” FOR ME

Over the last couple of days there has been a lot of buzz on the news (especially CNN) regarding the drug Ketamine as it has recently been approved by the FDA for treating Treatment Resistant Depression. For those of you who may not know exactly what Ketamine is or have never heard of it before I will tell you. Ketamine is actually a very powerful drug which is used as an anesthetic and for all of you with teenagers out there it’s important to note that it is also an illegal street drug better known as “Special K”.

The drug is to be sold by prescription only under the name Spravato to patients suffering with depression and have been unsuccessful in trying at least 2 other medications to treat their symptoms (I’ve tried at least 20). Spravato is not intended to be taken orally but instead it will be administered in a nasal spray, under the supervision of a health care provider and cannot be taken at home.

The drug is to be given either once per week or once every other week and is said to be fast acting by restoring brain cells in treatment resistant depression patients. The side effects can be very unpleasant including “dizziness, nausea, increased blood pressure, anxiety, vomiting, suicidal thoughts, decreased sensitivity, sedation and disassociation, a feeling of being temporarily disconnected from your body and mind.” At this point in time since the drug is still so new for treating depression it is also difficult to know what the possible long term cognitive health effects could be as well.

Since the news broke about this potential ground breaking treatment I have literally been flooded with text messages and private Facebook messages from so many of you reading this right now who have been following my journey and want nothing more than to help me with my recovery. Your support and kindness is unfuckinbelievable. Just knowing how many of you are rooting for me is unfuckinbelievable and also knowing that I am in so many of your thoughts and prayers is beyond unfuckinbelievable.

Here’s the thing though, I already tried Ketamine. Two years ago. In one of my many hospital stays I was asked to join a research trial that the hospital had just been approved for. I filled out what felt like 100’s of pages of questions and was explained to in great length what this trial was hoping to do as a breakthrough in Treatment Resistant Depression. As with everything else I am presented with I said okay since my begging to go home wasn’t working, what else did I have going on to pass the time.

Once all the paperwork was approved I was scheduled to begin the next day. This was not a nasal spray, this was instead being done in the OR hooked up to an IV with a dose of Ketamine being administered intravenously. They told me I would receive a low dose of Ketamine for 45 minutes and that when complete I would have to lay there for another 45 minutes while the drug went through my system. I asked if I would feel anything and they said I may feel a little woozy. Well I was more than woozy. For 45 minutes I watched my life flash before my eyes while they were closed and I saw lots of psychedelic colours and images swirling around the inside of my head. In a nutshell, I hallucinated for 45 minutes straight and although I have never done LSD before, I’m pretty darn sure that’s what it felt like. I was beyond relieved when it stopped. I lay there for another 45 minutes afterwards just trying to come back down to earth.

I was scheduled to do this another 5 to 8 times over the course of a 2 week period but upon speaking with my psychiatrist in charge of my care at the time of my stay, together we decided it was best that I didn’t continue with the trial. But I guess that’s why they have trials, to see what works and what doesn’t. I of course just beat myself up every time I feel like I have failed at yet another treatment, no matter how big or small it is.

But what I really wanted to say from all this was thank you for letting me know you are thinking of me, thank you for continuing to check in on me and for taking the time to send me any new or pertinent information on what could possibly be that one promising treatment to help with my recovery. Basically, thanks for always having my back!

Poem: I Want To Live, But I Want To Die

POEM: I WANT TO LIVE, BUT I WANT TO DIE

I want to live, but I want to die
It’s an endless struggle, I will not lie.

I want to live, but I want to die
My heart is heavy, there’s no denying.

I want to live, but I want to die
I find some comfort when I can cry.

I want to live, but I want to die
I dream of ways to say goodbye.

I want to live, but I want to die
My feelings are valid and very justified.

I want to live, but I want to die
Will I ever become that butterfly?

I want to live, but I want to die
I feel so confused and mostly terrified.

I want to live, but I want to die
So I need to ask the question why?

I want to live, but I want to die
It’s so hard some days to even try.

I want to live, but I want to die
I wish the two could see eye to eye.

I want to die, but I want to live
To show my illness what more I have left to give.

Sticks And Stones

I’m pretty sure we have all been guilty of doing this at some time or another in our lives but as we try to collectively move toward a stigma free society we need to start by remembering that mental illnesses are not adjectives. An adjective (for those of you who may have forgotten their grammar lesson from grade school) is “a word or phrase naming an attribute, added to or grammatically related to a noun to modify or describe it”.

When we use words or phrases to negatively describe another person that may be suffering with a mental illness or whom you may feel ill-will towards we are only enhancing the stigma surrounding it. We all know that using politically incorrect jargon, harmful expressions to describe a person’s disability or gender-specific stereotyping to describe another person or group of people are both offensive and very hurtful but yet when it comes to using those same offensive and hurtful words associated around mental illnesses many people don’t seem to bat an eyelash.

Whether or not you are using the words or phrases to describe yourself or someone else or whether or not you are doing it intentionally or in a malicious manner, the negative connotation is still the same. Using words like psycho, schizo, bipolar, loony and mental as adjectives are all words that can cause further damage to how we see mental illness.

It can also be just as destructive to someone suffering with a mental illness to hear phrases like “You’re so OCD!” or “I’m so depressed that my favorite tv show was cancelled” or worse than that is when you hear someone say something like “I just broke my nail, I think I’m gonna kill myself!” All of these phrases may be in jest but to someone who is actually experiencing these emotions or has been diagnosed with any type of mental illness including OCD it only further exploits the individual suffering.

Living with any type of mental illness is challenging enough so choose your words or phrases wisely and remember that adjectives help express the quality of a person so let’s try and build each other up instead of tearing each other down.

My Neurofeedback Journey Has Come To A Close

This week after many weeks of overwhelming anxiety I decided to discontinue my Neurofeedback treatment. I made a promise to myself (and to the clinic) from the onset of my treatment that no matter what, I would complete the first 10 sessions as difficult as it may have been for me. And it was way more difficult than I imagined with lots of setbacks (which has included the worst winter ever!)

Originally they asked me to commit to coming 3 times per week which right away proved to be beyond challenging for me so we decided pretty early on to only schedule 2 sessions per week where some weeks I could only make it to 1. I did what my body and mind allowed me to do and they were more than willing to accommodate me as best they could in order for the treatment to be a success. But as each session finished I was still not seeing any improvement or feeling any different.

Ten was their starting point but truly they were hoping I would complete up to 40 of them. They told me that many clients begin to feel some sort of shift in the way they feel as early on as after 4 sessions with a majority of them feeling that shift sometime after 8 sessions. I got to 4, then to 8 and then to 10 and I felt no change at all and my husband saw no change at all and I began to feel more and more hopeless again, more and more like a failure again and more and more worthless again. And not to mention the guilt of how much money this treatment was costing us.

Like with everything else I have endured along my journey I try my darndest to find that glimmer of hope when a new opportunity or remedy comes my way. I spent a great deal of my time and even with my limited resources and energy I researched Neurofeedback until I felt this too was worth a try. That’s the thing though, I do keep trying and I can always say “at least I tried” no matter how big or small it may seem to others because I have tried a shitload of treatments etc., but I beg the question now; how many ways can someone keep trying before you just give up? Before you just say I can’t do this anymore. What’s the magic number or better yet is there a magic number

One Puzzle Piece At A Time

Over the past couple of years I have solved a lot of jigsaw puzzles and it may surprise you to learn that there can actually be a lot of health benefits when doing so. I have always enjoyed doing a variety of different types of puzzles and especially ones that can be somewhat challenging but nowadays it’s best that I find activities that can benefit my mental health and not overwhelm it which is why I turned to jigsaw puzzles.

Trust me though when I tell you that jigsaw puzzles can still be quite challenging and sometimes overwhelming, I mean have you actually spent time just choosing a puzzle itself these days? There are 1000’s upon 1000’s to choose from for starters and then to top it all off, having to decide how many pieces you want to try or if you would prefer a puzzle of a beautiful landscape, an adorable collage of puppies or maybe it’s a scrumptious basket filled with donuts that tickles your fancy.

Well once those hurdles are behind us then the fun part begins by unwrapping the puzzle box, opening its packaging and spreading the 1500 jumbled pieces of adorable puppies across your dining room table which can really get your adrenaline pumping. That’s when the first of many benefits fall into place.

Jigsaw puzzles help me develop and improve upon many important skills. They help with my creativity, my short-term memory, my organizational skills, my problem solving skills and my critical thinking skills which of course are all beneficial to our mental health. Anytime we are exercising our brains we are also strengthening our ability to focus outward which helps to distract me from those unrelenting negative thought patterns.

Not too many activities these days can do all that and more for me so any chance I get I try to do a jigsaw puzzle, many of which I have proudly displayed upon my walls (and my favourite is of course the one my kids gave me for Mother’s Day which was a picture of them!). But sometimes after spending countless hours enjoying the peaceful benefits of creating these puzzles (and oftentimes have even sparked some togetherness among certain family members) I’ve reached the end of a puzzle only to be left with a missing piece.

That’s when I find myself “puzzled” by the parallels between that missing piece and the rest of my life in general. It’s as though that missing piece is a metaphor for what seems to always be standing in my way, preventing me from ever feeling complete again and that all my tiresome efforts are for nothing. Sometimes however, the missing pieces do eventually turn up whether it had been stuck under a chair leg or even once I found a piece in the washing machine and let me tell you that there is nothing more gratifying than when those “missing” pieces just seem to all fall right into place.

Self-Love

Lets call a spade a spade. Valentine’s Day is nothing more than a commercialized holiday that is celebrated among couples. A day set aside each February to show your significant other just how much they truly mean to you by showering them with presents and cards. The concept itself seems pretty harmless in many ways but of course that’s only true for those of us “lucky” enough to be part of a couple.

For many people Valentine’s Day is merely a sharp reminder that they are lonely, that they have failed at a relationship or that maybe they feel that they are undeserving of having a healthy, happy loving relationship at all.

It isn’t this way for everyone of course, in fact many people choose to be alone while others have the confidence to be in a healthy, happy and loving relationship with themselves. Self-love can be very powerful and can help set the standards for how we want to be treated in all our relationships both with ourselves and others. People who truly love themselves first (and not in a narcissistic President Trump kinda way) will in turn benefit from the happiest, most valuable relationship of all.

Of course this is not me. This is the most opposite of me that you can get. I shame myself daily, I put myself down daily and I berate myself daily almost to the point that “figuratively speaking” I have left many bruises and scars on my body and in my heart.

If you were to ask me to name all the things that I love, my list could be endless, I mean the top three of course are a no brainer; my amazing husband, my 3 beautiful kids and my adorable puppy (well she’s not a puppy anymore but whatevs) but even after the top three I could still go on and on naming more and more things that I love but you can be rest assured that upon conclusion of my list I will not have named one very important love; myself, no matter how many times a day I try to crush my inner voice and tell it to stop shaming me, to stop putting me down and to stop berating me.

Trust me it’s something I work on daily trying to shut those damn voices up any way I can and I just want to let all those struggling today to shut down that same inner voice, whether you’re feeling lonely right now or you’re “lucky” enough to be in a loving relationship it’s so important to celebrate today by being kind and loving to yourself first; and I will even bet you that you won’t want to return that gift you gave yourself either!