Category: Honesty

Becoming A Butterfly

Becoming A Butterfly

“Just when the caterpillar thought her life was over…she became a butterfly”.

The last few weeks have been exceptionally difficult for me and I have been struggling a lot.  There is never an easy answer as to why some days or weeks are harder than others even though I am very much aware of many of my triggers, but as I’m sure you all know, life is always full of surprises.  Over the past several years I have found that the month of June itself to be a very overwhelming and stressful month in general, but this one seems to be rising above the rest, and it’s only halfway through.  All of the healthy boundaries I have worked so hard to apply to my daily life recently seem to have all but disappeared.  Right now as I sit here writing this I am silently (well I guess it’s not so silently) wishing I could build a cocoon around me for protection from the world, at least that is, until I am able to become a butterfly.

The good news is, my husband has settled back into the workforce really well after a 16 month reprieve and he seems quite content.  Since he began working again just a few short weeks ago I have been trying to focus much of my attention on my creative soul.  From the time I was just a little girl I would spend countless hours writing and creating art but over the years it has become less and less of a hobby, especially once I had my own kids and they no longer showed an interest in doing art projects with me!  Being creative enables me to look at life in an entirely new perspective, it allows me to take risks and face some of my fears.  It gives me the opportunity to break away from my mundane routine and contort my thoughts toward something more positive and it also means challenging myself to attain a goal.

A lot of my inspiration nowadays comes from my journey itself (surprise, surprise) while keeping in mind that there can only be one destination in the end, so maybe by trying to rekindle my creative soul that somehow got lost along the way, then maybe, just maybe one day I will be able to become a butterfly.

Butterflies actually serve a purpose in our lives beyond their beauty; they also symbolize images of freedom, peace and life.  It’s ironic though because the only image of butterflies I have in my mind most days now are from the feeling I get when I am extremely anxious or nervous to the point where I have ‘butterflies in my stomach’.  But quite possibly this expression is really just a metaphor for what the butterfly is truly meant to represent, which is to help protect its environment, so maybe those butterflies flying around in my gut are simply just trying to protect me.

Those symbolic ‘butterflies in my stomach’ have been on this journey with me since the beginning, but everyone knows that in order for a butterfly to learn how to spread its wings and fly away it must first endure a very long and strenuous metamorphosis, much like my healing process.  The pain and struggle I have experienced over the last four years and as I continue to battle with my depression and anxiety can undeniably be compared to that of a butterfly’s life cycle.

The Larvae is the first stage of the life cycle which for me is very symbolic as it is representative of the uncertainty of my battle which also leaves me wondering daily how I somehow wound up here.  The next stage in a butterfly’s life cycle is that of the Caterpillar which clearly depicts my struggle of exhaustingly trying to figure out if there actually is a light at the end of my tunnel while continuously needing more from life and patiently fighting my feelings of being hopeless and worthless.  The third stage of the life cycle is called Chrysalis which is where my ‘I Choose Me’ mantra stems from as it is the stage that symbolizes self-awareness while trying to figure out how to emerge from my isolated and desolate life into a pathway toward health and wellness.

The final stage of course is that of becoming a butterfly.  As I think about the emergence of that butterfly in relation to me, I see it as scared, unbalanced, distressed and hurting.  The journey could not have been an easy one for the butterfly as upon its arrival it is still unsure as to where it belongs or where it should go or even how it will get there.  Its wings may be broken from its long and strenuous journey but when it finally finds that outstretched hand to perch its tired wings upon it will know that it is ready to break free from its cocoon and become a beautiful butterfly.

When Depression Smiles

*Sensitive Content*

When Depression Smiles

This has been a particularly turbulent week for me. Lots going on at home right now (which I will leave for another time), that combined with the uncertain state of Ontario’s future thanks to the circus of an election we just weathered through and to top it all off with my own state of mind when I awoke not once but twice this week to the devastating news that two prominent, influential and highly successful public figures in the media world had taken their own lives.

I have spent the better part of my week consumed with the media reports and all the backlash that seems to follow when a prominent, influential and highly successful public figure like Kate Spade, Anthony Bourdain or Robin Williams take their own lives, without any warning, or so it seems to many of us. I have previously mentioned in other blogs what the news of Robin Williams’s suicide did to me, a person who spends a significant amount of time battling similar, incomprehensible demons in my own mind.

Even though most of us don’t actually know any of these media moguls personally, we develop a pseudo-type of relationship with them when we buy their products, follow their brand, listen to their music or welcome them into our homes and our hearts through their big box office hits or television shows. So yes, believe it or not these types of relationships become very personal to many, and for me, an already vulnerable individual, I am left trying to figure out why someone like myself shouldn’t mimic their very tragic, harmful actions. I mean, come on, look at what they had to live for…

There is definitely an all too familiar commonality that many of these prominent, influential and highly successful public figures share. Watching them from the comfort of our homes, the news media or a magazine stand they all seem to have a life most people only dream of while being surrounded by their loved ones and more money than anyone could ever know what to do with in one lifetime. Yet, with all of their fame and good fortune they were still just human beings, many of whom felt compelled to smile through their tears.

Unfortunately the stigma associated with mental illness has led many of these prominent, influential and highly successful public figures the inability to use their platform to raise awareness or give them the ability to remove their mask before it becomes too heavy to wear any longer. Psychologists have actually named this simply as “Smiling Depression”. This defense mechanism is sadly how many of us who battle with mental illness live day in and day out for fear that others will find out that they aren’t actually living a perfect life.

Many people who live this way don’t want to burden or bother others with their problems quite possibly for fear of being rejected or for fear of showing their vulnerability to others, yet on the inside they are feeling empty, insecure and worthless which I know will only lead to an enormous amount of guilt and shame and suicidal ideations. For many individuals who are unable to remove their mask, it is that much more difficult for loved ones or professionals to recognize that an individual is at risk for suicide or in distress.

There really is an endless list of signs and symptoms of suicide but the reality is that many individuals, not just those in the public eye, can and will hide behind their smile so they don’t come across to others as weak. As I finish writing this blog I will leave you with this anonymous quote which can help educate others to the detrimental effects of mental illness which is that no matter how much a person may be smiling always try to “check on your strong friends, check on your quiet friends, check on your happy friends, check on your creative friends, always check on each other!

Is Suicide Selfish?

IS SUICIDE SELFISH? *Sensitive Content*

If you have ever walked inside of a Kate Spade outlet or been fortunate enough to own one of her signature bags or any of her many other creations for that matter you will know that her brand is unique and distinctive. Her brand beams with excitement and fun and is overflowing with bright, bold stylish patterns and designs. Much like her designs, Kate herself was recognized as a bright, bold, fun and unique individual to the outside world as well as a fashion icon and a very successful self-made businesswoman. She was also an inspiration to millions of young, like-minded girls around the world, but now, since the very first broadcast and publication of her suicide, speculation and rumours have quickly shined a whole new light on her. A light that is being overshadowed by discernment and the belief that she is to be remembered simply as cowardly and selfish.

The Internet and other news outlets are being inundated with ‘fake news’ and false pretenses about Kate’s suicide and the impact she left behind to those who looked up to her and especially to those who loved her. Unfortunately, as many of you know, suicide is excruciatingly difficult to fathom when you are standing on the outside looking in and even more so when someone who seems to have it all could be hurting that much. It becomes so easy for people to caste judgement on or anger towards another human being who has completed the act of suicide, but for someone like myself I only see the lack of awareness and understanding about how depression truly works.

Depression and many other mental illnesses can shatter even the strongest, most successful and most loving people you know. I know how depression feels and how easily and quickly it can manifest into self-destructive behaviour where your brain begins to overpower your heart. I know how suicide would impact on my family, but my depression tells me otherwise. My depression constantly tells me that I am a burden to those who love me, that I am just making things worse for them and that they would be better off without me.

My depression tells me lies each and every day from the moment I wake up until the moment I finally close my eyes late at night. It doesn’t tell me what my heart wants, but instead it tells me what my mind needs. It tells me I am hopeless and worthless and that all of my efforts in regaining some kind of normalcy again are pointless. It is constantly reminding me that this is as good as it’s ever gonna get and that I may not have physically left my family but emotionally I checked out a long time ago and there ain’t no going back. My depression also knows I have a lot to be grateful for in my life but my mind continues to play tricks on me, telling my heart I’m undeserving of any type of happiness, success or the love from my family.

Social media and other news outlets along with the general population will continue to speculate and spread rumours as to why Kate Spade chose to end her life and leave behind her young daughter to carry on the pain she left behind, but as I continue to find my place in this world as a person living with a mental illness I know that pain all too well. I can only hope that the millions of impressionable young girls who looked up to Kate and all those who deeply loved her will carry on her memory as the fun, bright, unique individual that she so boldly tried to emanate from both her mind and her heart.

Chopping Off My Security Blanket

Almost everything nowadays in my life has become a task of carefully calculating and methodically planning and executing it, including getting my haircut. In order to complete tasks such as this which require me to leave my home and access unfamiliar territory is done so with a vast amount of anxiety and anticipation. To try and ease some of my discomfort I aim to do these tasks on days that I will be least likely to run into someone I may know, even if it’s someone I haven’t seen in ten years. I also tend to only do such tasks at certain times of the day when again I figure I am less likely to run into someone I know. Keeping this in mind though trust me when I tell you that there are still several places you will never find me no matter what day of the week or time it is, including the local mall which I have not stepped foot inside of in more than two years.

It’s been quite a while since I got a haircut and I knew I needed one…badly. I have always kept my hair somewhat long and I’m pretty sure it’s from the trauma my mother caused me as a young child when she forced me to keep it short and often times during my early youth I was even seen sporting an unsightly bowl cut! But like every other task, simple or not, the planning and executing is an extremely paralyzing feat. The best part about my hair salon is that I can book my appointments online and don’t have the added anxiety of having to pick up the phone and talk to someone live which is at least one less thing to stress over!

So today was that day, the day I so carefully and methodically calculated (all last week) as the day I needed to get my haircut, and even executed the perfect time of day for me to do so as well. I knew my hair was lacking any lustre and thought maybe a new shorter hairstyle could liven it up; maybe the change would be good for me. Ya well as usual, I was sadly mistaken.

I have come to realize that my hair is somewhat of a security blanket, something that gives me comfort and ease, kinda like how Linus from the Peanuts comic strip feels as he totes around his blanket everywhere. It represents safety and something I so often find myself trying to hide behind. It is part of my identity and a part of my self-image that wasn’t so frayed. My hair was a part of me I welcomed compliments from as it distracted others from all of the many insecurities I have about myself, including everything that my hair surrounds.

It’s not my hairdresser’s fault at all, he was only doing what I asked of him, and I was confident in his ability to complete this undertaking smoothly, and he did so for all intents and purposes because I am now sporting a new, healthier, trendy and very summery hairdo and I know that it’s only hair which will eventually grow back. I also know that whether or not I believe it to be true, my hair doesn’t actually define who I am, but for now it has left me and my already agonizingly low self-esteem lying in a tangled up ball on the salon room’s floor waiting to be swept away together.

Just The Facts Ma’am; It’s Really Not “All In Your Head”

*Warning Sensitive Content*

Statistics show that the amount of people suffering with depression is quickly becoming more common than any other illness or disorder and that it is also the most common mental illness among those who die from suicide. These statistics leave me pondering why there are still so many people who don’t know much about depression and suicide.  I can tell you from my own experience that it is first and foremost a real illness, one that is often silent, life-altering and potentially deadly.

Many people have a preconceived notion about what depression and suicide really are and this continues to make it especially laborious for an infinite amount of individuals suffering with a mental illness to find the strength to be as open and honest with loved ones and professionals as they would like to be.  Too many times a person in the presence of someone who is suffering with depression or suicidal ideations may unintentionally use phrases like ‘I’m so depressed’ or ‘I’m gonna kill myself’ as a figure of speech to express their emotions in that moment without registering the substantial impact it may have on those who are truly hurting around them.

When someone casts these inadvertent statements around you it only diminishes and devalues the seriousness of mental illness, which also leaves so many people grappling with the inability to reach out and ask for help.  You see, depression lies to you because it makes you feel so alone & weak and makes you feel like the world is always judging you, simply put, depression and suicide are just vastly misunderstood.

The lack of knowledge and education encompassing depression and suicide continues to make it more and more challenging for the millions of people around the world to feel protected when they are trying to express their thoughts and feelings instead of worrying that they will be made to feel more alone, more weak and more judged.  Even though we as a society have made great strides over the last decade in recognizing that mental illnesses are not “all in your head”, I know there is still so much work to be done.  I know this because I live with a mental illness every day, I live with depression every day, I live with anxiety every day and I live with suicidal ideations every day.  I have been made to feel all alone, weak and judged as well as too afraid to speak the truth for fear of the aftermath as I have experienced much of that aftermath with significant regret and sorrow.

The misconception that a mental illness is “all in your head” can and will belittle a person suffering.  Depression et al is very much a disease and sadness is very much an emotion.  It is not something provoked by encountering a bad day and then thinking that by taking a long hot bath you can cure it; it unfortunately doesn’t work that way, and likewise, it can’t always be “fixed” by simply taking a pill (but I do hear that it can make you a racist, A.K.A Roseanne Barr!).  Many people assume that if someone is afflicted by a mental illness that a doctor will merely prescribe them an antidepressant and it will miraculously go away.  I know for me and many others this is completely untrue.  I have tried over 20 antidepressants and all that they did for me was lead to further complications.  I’m not saying that medication won’t work for everyone, but thinking that it will, can be very impeding on your loved one’s road to recovery.

One of the most difficult roadblocks I find while suffering with depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts; a roadblock which can become the most dangerous one of all; a roadblock which can create a barrier so high that we can no longer speak our truth because the face of mental illness is so misconstrued.  Unfortunately you can’t see a mental illness in the same way that you can see many other disorders or illnesses (or a broken leg for that matter), so please forgive me if I tend to smile or even laugh once in a while or put on some makeup to hide my tired eyes or even carry on a normal and engaging conversation with you, but these actions are by no means an indication that I am not still hurting inside and will just leave someone like myself feeling more alone, more weak and more judged because “I look fine”.

I can probably relay to you fifty more preconceptions behind depression and mental illness in general but instead I will just continue to write my truths, be as honest as I can be and give you ‘just the facts’, the facts that I have come to believe to be true, the facts that are not “all in my head but instead come straight from my heart.

Cleaning Out My Closet

Every so often we get that rush of adrenaline inside that energizes us just enough to clean out our closets.  Whether it’s to get rid of items of clothing that we no longer wear, that no longer fit us or that are no longer in style can be very cathartic, all of which help make room for newer, more trendy articles of clothing.

Sometimes cleaning out our closet is simply a way to help declutter and re-organize some of life’s messes.  For me the thought of cleaning out my closet has been especially overwhelming and stressful.  Every day when I enter my closet I am met with these emotions as my closet has somehow become a metaphor of the chaos and disorder my life is in.

Living with three teenagers I know the true meaning of living in a continuous state of chaos and disorder, both of which cause me severe anxiety.  If you were to ask my kids the one thing I badger them about the most (okay, all the time) they would unanimously say it’s to clean up their rooms.  Ya I get it, they are teenagers (who happily enjoy living like pigs I might add) and for some reason they feel it’s their own space to do with as they please and maybe they are right, but I’m pretty damn sure they are wrong after all possession is nine-tenths of the law, right (and I’m rather certain they only own about one-tenth of their room)?!  Perhaps it’s their way of asserting their independence, or their individuality or possibly it’s how they show their defiance toward parental control, but for me it plain and simply expresses complete and utter unrest (and I guess none of them inherited my CONSTANT need for cleanliness and order, some may feel borders on obsession).

I know exactly what many people are thinking right now because I’ve heard it all before and I can tell you for certain that closing their doors so I can’t actually see the chaos and disorder is anything but helpful.  Remember, I suffer with a mental illness which constantly dumps unwanted thoughts and images in my head so no matter whether their doors are wide open or bolted shut, I know exactly what they look like and as I have said I have a very strong aversion toward chaos and disorder.

The anguish I feel concerning my kid’s chaotic and disorderly rooms and the rush of adrenaline that came over me while assisting my husband in cleaning out his own closet yesterday ultimately influenced my decision to finally conquer the chore of decluttering and re-organizing my own closet as well.  I know there is no proper etiquette when it comes to this sort of mission and to most people it’s really more time consuming rather than overwhelming and stressful, but for me this sort of commitment involved a huge emotional undertaking.

So why then if I feel so strongly against having any kind of chaos or disorder in my life would I not be up for such a task?  Well the long and the short of it is because all it did was leave me feeling sad, guilty, angry, frustrated and with an almost completely barren closet.  Yup I purged all right, all the way down to its core and at no time during the task or upon its completion did it leave me with even an ounce of happiness or satisfaction.  It’s been quite a while since I have really done a thorough cleaning of my closet and what I discovered was a great deal of pain (who knew that a closet could hold so much power?).

For most people who approach this task they only need to make two simple piles; one for the items they plan to give away and one for the items that they plan to keep.  Instead I found myself (metaphorically speaking) intertwined in four different piles which included the sad pile, the guilty pile, the angry pile and the frustrated pile.  I’m not going to go into any detail here as to what each of these piles truly represent individually for me but instead how they collectively as a whole make me feel and that clearly my illness has left me feeling completely and wholly empty, and now, sadly so too is my closet.

Frozen In Time

*From One Honest Parent to Another*

The other night my husband and I watched the series finale of one of my all-time favorite TV shows which completed its ninth and final season on Tuesday night.  He will probably kill me for writing this but by the end of the one hour episode we were both sobbing like babies! (This is as real as it gets).  We both felt the same raw emotions while watching the finale, we both felt the same likeness and parallels to our own family unit.

“The Middle” was a half hour weekly comedy which centered around a middle class family facing the day to day struggles of home life, work and raising three children.  Although it took place in “middle” America it could have just as easily taken place in my own backyard.  The three children were close in age to my own kids and faithful viewers like myself have watched them grow up before our eyes, tackling life’s ups and downs but always doing so with a quick-witted sense of humour.

If there is one word to describe the final episode of “The Middle” it would be ‘bittersweet’.  It perfectly wrapped up all of its loose ends of a family that so many of us can relate to, in both a funny and extremely touching way.  Week after week for nine seasons I looked forward to watching the unorthodox and heartwarming antics of the Heck family, but this week really struck a different chord with me.

Maybe it’s simply because it was the final episode (I’m sure they are deserving of a reboot in ten years just like so many other shows on TV this year), or maybe it was what the episode truly signified which was the end of an era.  It reminded me just how quickly time passes by when you become a parent.  We all know that we can never get back those precious moments or milestones we wish could stay frozen in time forever, but as the Patriarch of the ”Heck” family so candidly declares in this final episode to his TV wife who’s grieving the loss of time, “That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

As much as I can hear the sincerity behind his sensible words, my emotional state of mind is just too damn fragile right now to believe them.  Having depression constantly keeps me focused on my past.  I am forever yearning for those precious moments I wish could be kept frozen in time, you know the ones, like when you held out your hand and immediately felt the grasp of your toddler’s tiny, warm sticky fingers returning the gesture, or even when you first took off their training wheels on their bicycle and they rode off into the sunset, but always looked back longing for your approval.  My mental wellness depends on these images as I continue to struggle daily to find answers.

During the final episode of “The Middle” I watched as the Matriarch of the family tried hopelessly to keep her emotions intact while coming to grips with the next chapter of their lives, but to no avail she eventually breaks down.  This of course is where I went from a natural teary-eyed state of mind to complete and inconsolable sobbing.  When suffering with chronic anxiety as I do, I’m persistently being jolted into the opposing direction of my depression, which is relentlessly taking me deep into that next chapter, long before I am ready to finish the current one, therefore leaving me in a constant state of distress.

They say that the older we get the faster life passes us by, making us question the mystery as to where did the time go?  I myself cannot really tell you the answer to this question however, over the last couple of years I have wondered it many, many times as I try to face just how much our family dynamics have changed and continue to do so.  We are all beginning to move toward unfamiliar territory and in doing so we are learning how to support one another through trial and error while managing our new roles and identities together.

Through therapy I am beginning to embrace two very important tasks in order to help me cope with our new roles and identities by creating healthy boundaries and communicating my needs with loved ones.  Many of these next chapters in life can often lead a once healthy, happy individual into a very depressive or anxious state of mind which is why it is imperative for me right now to use these strategies as we turn the page once again, and for anyone else reading this that may be feeling apprehensive or vulnerable as they too turn to the next page just know that you are not alone.

Being open and honest about what you need from your loved ones is most definitely key as I have learned very recently.  As I try to look ahead to the next chapters I will continue to keep those precious memories in the forefront of my mind knowing that I have created and raised three capable, confident and resourceful human beings enabling them to fly into the world and start writing their own new and exciting chapters.  I will also do so with the belief that no matter what, they will always remember where they came from because “that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

When One Door Opens

When One Door Opens

(Please read to the end)

Alexander Graham Bell once said that ‘when one door closes, another opens’.  Being the self-proclaimed pessimist that I have become it’s really difficult for me to see the true gift or message behind this overly optimistic quote.  It actually goes on to say: ‘but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the ones which open for us.’ To me this quote signifies missed opportunities, failure and loss, whereas a more optimistic person may see the opportunity for growth, development and success.

When suffering with depression and anxiety I have said many times before that it feels like I’m playing a game of Tug of War with my brain.  When I am feeling anxious or having a panic attack I am anticipating future events which causes me to lose control, whereas my depression takes me deep into my past where nothing seems to make sense at all.  It’s as though my mind is split in two, one side is filled with constant worry about every aspect of my life and the other side is just too damn exhausted or worn down to care, both leaving me incessantly feeling like I will never find that open door.

Sometimes in life there are events or circumstances that are beyond our control especially when it comes to the weather, getting old, a natural disaster or even the way others may treat us.  Sometimes life is just simply not fair and sometimes it can be just downright cruel. Knowing that some things in our lives may be out of our control or near impossible to change can often lead to unwarranted feelings of disappointment, sadness or anger whether or not they were expected or if they came out of the blue, even the most positive ones.

Not all plans in life work out, at some point in our lives we will all experience a death of a loved one, a loss of relationships or failure of some kind, many of which can lead a person into the pathway of depression and anxiety.  Throughout my journey my role as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister and a friend has significantly changed, my beliefs have significantly changed , my goals have significantly changed and my needs have most definitely changed. I see the world a lot differently than I once did, one which is now controlled through negative self-talk, hopelessness and worthlessness, so much so that when I do experience a wholesome, healthy change in my life, an adjustment or assimilation period is needed more than ever.

Change, although inevitable, has been something that has intensely impacted my state of mind (even when it comes to good changes) since I began suffering with depression and anxiety.  There have been countless changes in my life over the past four years, many of which I have not shared with you, but good or bad they can all trigger feelings of uneasiness and distress now.  Even if certain events or circumstances that may occur in our lives are not defined by someone else as devastating they can still be extremely taxing on others and should always be measured equally.

The start of this week actually began with one of the most wholesome, healthy changes I have been longing for, a change which will affect our entire family dynamic. A change that will rejuvenate, recharge and refresh our inner core.  For those of you who were unaware, my husband lost his job 15.5 months ago after working for the same company for close to twenty years, and since then he has been on an exhausting and endless search for a new one, which finally came to an end on Monday afternoon.  An end that now signifies a new beginning, a notable amount of change and an open door.

As I stated earlier change is a very burdensome undertaking for me no matter how great or important it may be, it is still scary and unknown.  When my husband first walked through the door 15 months ago with his shocking and unimaginable news our lives immediately began to unravel further, and many difficult changes followed.  Change is unavoidable when someone loses their job and the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months and sometimes even years. You will inescapably begin to lose part of your identity, your daily routine, your self-confidence & self-esteem and your overall sense of security, which is pretty much how things unfolded around here.

Now that this next chapter is about to begin for us, and a promising second act gets underway, I am at a crossroads which is pulling me in opposite directions, one of which is resisting many of the new changes which lie ahead.  But I will take this opportunity as I breathe the first real sigh of relief that I have been able to do in a very long time and walk hand in hand together through this open door embracing each other as we see what’s waiting for us on the other side.

My High School Reunion

* please read if you have ever gone to high school, are in high school or plan to be in high school soon!*

For many teenagers and young adults alike, high school can be one of the toughest times in their lives. A time which is filled with so much self-doubt, hormonal changes, social anxieties, peer pressure mixed in with trying to find your rung on the social ladder, getting good grades and having to begin your path towards a very uncertain future.

When I think about my high school years I remember it mostly as a time in my life when I was at peace with myself and I was happy. I may be in the minority when I say that my high school years are probably ranked among some of the best years of my life. Being a high school student in the mid to late 1980’s was ‘like totally gnarly dude’ (I bet when you read that you even used the accent!). The fashion trends, the big hair and perms, the introduction of computers and some other awesome new technology, the movies, the TV shows and the music all contributed to the amazing memories I have of my high school years.

The transition for me into high school from elementary school seemed to go pretty smoothly. Although I was entering a much larger building and a very unfamiliar territory I wasn’t doing it alone. The excitement and privilege of having so much more autonomy and responsibility allowed me to revel in the overall experience that went along with it.

It is important to note here that the main emphasis of high school is to prepare us for a higher education, a satisfying career or hopefully both, but that high school is also a time for growing up and enjoying countless firsts. I believe that in order to mold ourselves into capable and contributing adults in today’s society, one must take the opportunity to explore and experience those firsts, many of which help us to mature while making plenty of mistakes along the way but still creating those amazing and lasting memories. During my five years of high school (for anyone who entered high school in Ontario after 2003 may not know that it used to be five years) I got my driver’s license, had a rockin’ Sweet 16 party, made some of the best friendships, fell in love, fell out of love, explored many of my passions and so much more (sorry, trying to keep it PG here).

As a mom of three children, 2 of which have since graduated from high school and my ‘baby’ who is already halfway there (well in 6 weeks she will be), I have recounted time and time again to them the lasting impact high school can have on their lives and the endless amount of doors it can open for them, especially in the almost 30 years since my graduation.

This past weekend while engaging in a conversation with some friends and parts of my family I had a sudden urge to dust off my old high school yearbooks from a box in the basement and give my kids a good laugh while I was at it. It felt like I was watching an episode from Oprah’s ‘Where Are They Now’ show marveling and reminiscing about so many now unrecognizable faces from the hallways we once walked together all those years ago. It didn’t quite hit me until later that evening and well into the next day when my negative self-talk so rudely interrupted my walk down memory lane toward contradictory thoughts of my time spent hanging out in those hallways. Could the direction I strolled down those hallways in somehow have led me to my journey I’m on today, did I somehow take a wrong turn down one of the many hallways even though I followed the expected pathway that high school ranks most value on at the time?

As I continue to consider this recourse today, I am also relishing in the anticipation of my upcoming high school reunion. It is my high school’s 50th anniversary this year and in three weeks from now there will be a two day celebration which will include all past and present faculty and students who have walked and continue to walk those same hallways over the last 50 years as I once did (and believe it or not there are still some faculty teaching there from some 30 years ago). If this reunion had taken place a few years ago I truly believe that I would have been first in line for it or maybe even have joined the administrative committee, but instead I am left feeling completely tormented and anguished over it.

It was over a year ago when I first heard about the reunion and I joined the Facebook group that had been created in hopes of reaching as many people as possible. In the months following I have observed the preparations and anecdotal storytelling for the upcoming reunion while hiding behind my laptop in silence, sometimes feeling a sense of warmth and sometimes a sense of sadness. When I first joined the Facebook group, the reunion seemed so far out of reach and so I just kept observing in silence, but now it is just weeks away and I can no longer just observe from a distance.

I have someone to go to the reunion with, probably the most notable person from my high school days, someone who has continued to be right by my side through all my peaks and valleys since graduation day, someone who understands me, someone who doesn’t place judgment on me and someone who only wants the best for me, so then after reading all this what could possibly be stopping me? The simplest and most straightforward answer would have to be the ruthlessness and unrelenting conduct of my Depression and Anxiety.

So if I don’t make it to my reunion this time around, maybe a goal I can set for myself is to aim for their 100th anniversary reunion in another 50 years which will put me at the ripe old age of 96/97 years old, now the only question left to answer is, who’s coming with me?

Liar, Liar Pants On Fire

*Some Sensitive Content*

Who wouldn’t enjoy a compliment from a loved one, an acquaintance or even a stranger once in a while?  A compliment is a courteous way of conveying one’s feelings to another person using words that express praise or admiration.  Regardless if you are the one giving the compliment to someone else or on the receiving end of it, studies show that there are actually many physical and emotional health benefits related to the act itself.  Whether you’re showing your appreciation to a colleague for a job well done or simply taking note of a friend’s trendy new hairdo, the compliment can heighten their performance level, increase their mood and even strengthen their overall self-image.

As human beings we desire feelings of acceptance and recognition from others and giving someone else a sincere and genuine compliment is probably one of the most effortless and straightforward ways of fulfilling this need.  Many times the act of complimenting someone may seem truly insignificant or trivial to the person giving it, but for the person who is receiving it, it can have an enormous impact on them.  It indicates to the receiver that they are important, valued and noteworthy which can in fact turn any tiresome or difficult day around.

Unfortunately when living with major depression and anxiety as I do, my thoughts have become increasingly distorted and twisted, even the most basic ones.  Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate and recognize the sentiment that comes from somebody who is modestly trying to pay me a compliment, but most of the time my negative self-talk will find a disagreeable way to deflect it.  I don’t consciously intend to dispute your kind gesture when you have taken the time to make a sincere or heartfelt assertion in hopes of putting a smile on my face, but my illness seems to have a mind of its own.

Throughout my journey I have often recounted to you what it truly feels like to suffer with depression and anxiety using countless metaphors and adjectives alike.  My illness runs much deeper than an overwhelming sense of sadness, instead it fills me with an agonizing sense of worthlessness, hopelessness, loneliness, guilt and emptiness all wrapped together in a very unappealing and suffocating little box which often takes away my will to live.  Metaphorically speaking I feel like I have become trapped in a very dark, broken down and overcrowded elevator where no matter how hard I try to reach new heights, it always seems to try and take me down instead.

Living in this unrelenting state of mind, I want nothing more than to be able to embrace the simple pleasures in life that most of us take for granted like the enchantment you feel when you wake up to a warm, sunny day ahead or even the exhilaration that comes from spending time with loved ones, but instead I have become paralyzed and numb to these undemanding emotions, making it quite unmanageable to see the beauty in anything, even something as easy-going as a compliment.

At times I may take a less argumentative approach when I am pondering your kind gesture while still debating in my mind that your compliment was undeniably untrue.  I may instead choose to not allow the other person to feel my internal struggle by giving them a much less confrontational, non-verbal (yet polite) smile while listening to the voices in my head crying out ‘liar, liar, pants on fire’ and then quickly trying to redirect the conversation.

Even though we have always been taught from a very young age that the only way to accept a compliment from someone is by doing so graciously and respectfully, with a big smile on your face, or maybe even a hug, which is both inarguably and despairingly exhausting for me right now.  So instead while I continue to try and find my way through this journey, please know that I most definitely hear your incredibly kind and heartfelt compliments, all of which I have so graciously and respectfully stored away for safekeeping to be retrieved at a later date.