Category: Relationships

Turning My Vision Into A Dream

About a year and a half ago I sat down one afternoon to do some writing which had become a pretty regular routine by then. I felt like writing some poetry that day but it wasn’t until after I finished writing when I realized what I had written was something more than just a poem. Instead I had created the first of MANY drafts of what was to become my vision for a children’s book chronicling a journey through the eyes of a young girl trying to understand what depression is when her mom suddenly becomes ill.

As a mom who had been suffering with depression and anxiety for several years already, I had pretty good insight and understanding into the deep impact my illness was having on my kids (and husband too). And even though they were 11, 14 & 15 years old at the time my illness began 5 years ago they were still just as confused and scared as if they were 3, 6 & 7 years old. And so on that day I took the first step toward fulfilling my dream which started by doing some further research.

Upon my further research I was sadly reminded that there are not enough resources or books available to help parents, caregivers, teachers or loved ones support and comfort young children through their emotions of being both confused and scared when someone they love is suffering with depression, an illness they cannot see.

And now after 18 long months, countless hours and way too many late nights working with the most incredible, passionate and patient illustrator my dream is one step closer to coming true as I place that vision in the hands of a publisher. I hope that one day very soon many children will read my words and feel a little less confused and a little less scared knowing that they are not alone.

Depression: The Bully Within

I mentioned recently that it’s been really difficult to write lately (Blog; Writer’s Block: AKA Depression, April 11, 2019) even though I have always found writing to be quite cathartic but with so many added stressors in my life right now I find it’s become too much of a hindrance for me.

That hindrance I speak of is the bully that lives inside my head and his name is “Depression”. A bully by definition is someone who “seeks to harm, intimidate or coerce” another human being who they perceive as vulnerable. The behaviour is usually habitual and identified by a social or physical imbalance of power. For anyone who has ever experienced the cruel devastation of bullying whether it be physically, verbally or cyberly knows how easily it can leave an individual with a lifetime of scars; both physical and emotional ones.

My bully has managed to do all of those things to me which I have mentioned above and has left me with too many scars to count. Because my bully lives inside my head it knows every single emotion there is to know about me. It knows all my aspirations and dreams and it most certainly knows all of my fears and insecurities which he has used to demean me, devalue me, humiliate me and shame me time and time again.

His dominance of power over me is really taking its toll right now, more than ever. He makes me doubt everything I do more than ever. He makes me question everything I say more than ever. He tells me I’m not good enough or worthy enough more than ever and he tells me how much of a burden I am to the world more than ever.

Oftentimes when a child is being bullied others may tell them to stand up to him (or her) which may seem even more scary than the bully itself. Standing up to a bully does not necessarily mean that you need to get physical toward them (I beat myself up enough as it is) but standing up to the bully in more practical ways can help rebuild their self-esteem and self-worth. I am desperately trying to stand up to my bully but lately it just seems like a losing battle because he lives inside of me and never leaves my side.

I keep trying though and I keep writing even if it’s on a much smaller scale lately. I try desperately to ignore the bully because we all know that bullies are looking for a negative reaction from its victim. I try with some confidence to tell the bully to stop, hoping that I can intimidate him and he will leave me alone. I try to avoid certain places or situations where I know I will feel most vulnerable around my bully and I continue to talk about him even though it’s too painful sometimes. But I also know that my courage in doing so is helping many others understand that they are not to blame for their bully’s actions and that finding the strength to talk about their bullies is the most powerful and freeing tool of all.

Today Is World Semicolon Day ;

Today is World Semicolon Day. It seems like just about everyday of the week you open up your Social Media platforms we are being inundated with people celebrating some kind of a day. Many of these days are super silly or fun and many of them just give us the perfect excuse to honour someone we love like our pets or family members.

Today on World Semicolon Day I am celebrating a community, a community that I now belong to and a community that many others do too. And in its honour I am continuing to do what I have been doing now for several years which is sharing my story with you and reminding anyone who is suffering with a mental illness, along with all those who support you that we are not alone.

Most of you have probably never heard of World Semicolon Day or Project Semicolon but over the last few years it has been a very significant part of my world. For those who have been following my journey over the last couple of years through my blog may recall that I have talked about Project Semicolon before. This organization was founded about 6 years ago by Amy Bleuel who wanted to honour her late father for whom she lost to suicide. Since her foundation began, the semicolon (;) has become known worldwide as a symbol to many people who struggle with depression, addiction, self-harm and suicidal ideations “to believe that this is not the end but a new beginning.”

Sadly, two years ago Amy lost her own battle with Mental Illness too but her foundation continues to bring hope and inspiration to many others through awareness and suicide prevention using the semicolon (a punctuation mark ; indicating a pause in a sentence, not an ending) symbol. Hundreds of thousands of bodies have become permanently inked with this symbol as a daily reminder that their story isn’t over yet (;) and many others have done so in memory of a loved one who they have lost to a mental illness.

Three years ago this coming July as Rich and I were casually strolling through Kensington Market and enjoying a hot #summerofrich day we passed by a tattoo parlour. I had been thinking for some time about getting a tattoo (for the first time in my life) in honour of my mental illness (and Project Semicolon) and had been holding onto a photo in my phone representing what it symbolized to me and its significance that my story isn’t over quite yet either.

I went for it. I got the tattoo and although it’s tiny and only visible on a hot summer day when I am wearing a tank top or bathing suit, it’s truly meaningful to me which is what I believe a tattoo should be. It’s a “Chai” which I added a dot on top of in order to make a semicolon symbol as well. Chai is a Hebrew word that when translated to English simply means “Life” but also possesses a numerical significance in the Jewish religion as well. It represents the number “18” which has become a longstanding Jewish tradition of gifting, contributing or donating in increments of $18 and is considered a Mitzvah (a good deed in English) meaning “a gift of life”.

Along with its meaning of life it also carries many symbolic principles too, including kindness, thoughtfulness and selflessness which are three of the greatest characteristics a person could hold during their time on this earth. So you see my tattoo has a lot of meaning behind it and a permanent reminder of my daily struggle to continue living and how important it is to continue sharing my story with you.

*Stay tuned for the upcoming #summerofrich (it will be somewhat of an abridged one) because I have been designing another tattoo for sometime now and you never know where our journey may take us next*. And lastly, who thinks Rich and I should get matching ones?

Writer’s Block (AKA Depression)

I’ve had to force myself to sit down and do some blogging today because I’ve been totally incapable of doing much of anything this past week or more. I am exhausted and feel completely depleted. There’s a lot going on in my life right now, most of which I just can’t share, but the overwhelm of it all has generated what an author would call “writer’s block”.

Writing has become a big part of my identity over the last couple of years and more recently it’s actually become an important part of my journey. For the most part I find writing to be very therapeutic and fun but right now I am finding that it’s just causing me additional anxiety (if that’s even possible) just thinking about it. I truly love writing but given the dark and lonely place I find myself in lately, my tank is completely on empty, leaving me no motivation to write. I also find my apprehension to discipline myself to blog is creating added feelings of being a failure and of course causing me such f@cking guilt (truth be told it doesn’t take much for me to feel either of these emotions).

I have so much to write about and so much I need to write about but this so called writer’s block (AKA Depression) is making it near impossible right now. I am feeling frustrated and most definitely uninspired. My anxiety has hit an all time high lately which is only causing me to feel even more inadequate and unfocused. I am beyond the norm of overwhelm with all the shit going on in my life and the walls around me feel like they have pretty much caved in. My thoughts and emotions are completely clouded.

Ernest Hemingway was once quoted by saying “Write hard and clear about what hurts” which I truly believe has become my mantra since I began writing my blog over two years ago. Writing should be impactful and needs to come from the heart no matter what the genre. Writing also takes strength and concentration because you and only you are in charge of your own thoughts and emotions. Additionally I find that it helps me to release many of my negative thoughts and hurt right onto a crisp, blank page and all of this combined is not only cathartic and freeing but I believe this is what Hemingway is trying to tell me.

Maybe Hemingway was also trying to channel me earlier this past week when I sat down with a psychic for a few minutes the other day at a Health, Wellness and Spiritual show. I have been wanting, almost to the point of needing to speak with a psychic over the past year so when the opportunity arose I thought why not? Because it was at a show there was only an opportunity for a short, abridged session which I figured I would try first before I commit to a more in depth reading. The psychic knew nothing about me, not even my name but the very first thing he said to me was that I need to “continue writing and being creative” and that it is very important I do so for my well being. Ya it was kinda freaky, and I’m kinda a believer now and may just need to take it one step further. So does anyone know a good psychic?

April 4, 2014: It’s Been Five Long Years;(

It’s been a really tough week for me, like omfg tough. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions causing so much pain and anguish which in turn leads to very scary and intrusive thoughts. I’m used to it by now though because you see, I’ve been on this roller coaster ride for 1,825 days, 43,800 hours and 2,628,000 minutes (no wonder I feel so nauseous all time). It was five years ago today; April 4, 2014 when I headed out the door to go to work that Friday morning like any other seemingly normal weekday, but by five o’clock that afternoon my entire world came crumbling down and I have been trying to put the pieces of my life back together ever since.

That Friday morning, April 4, 2014, I was doing what I had been doing for several months. I was heading to a job that I hated. A job that made me doubt my self-worth. A job that made me uncomfortable. A job that made me question my integrity. A job that made me compromise my morals and a job that made me feel unsafe. Ok so it wasn’t so much the job itself that did all that, but in actuality it was a boss who did.

Turns out I was working for a crook, a scam artist and one mighty smooth talking jackass (actually there were two of them!). I started to realize very early on that this crook, scam artist and smooth talking jackass was doing some very illegal shit and partaking in some very immoral behaviours which included ponzi/pyramid schemes and stealing money from innocent and unsuspecting people (your welcome to google his name because it’s all there for the world to see on the world wide web).

He wooed me for several months before I decided to leave another job to start working with him. When I did eventually start working with him I was so excited and thought I had finally found a job that I could build into a thriving career. I fell for his charm (stupid, stupid me) but at least I was lucky enough to have only invested my time with him and not my money.

But on April 4, 2014 after I was asked to do something I felt was ethically and morally wrong I packed up my belongings and hightailed it out of there. I got into my car completely petrified and completely broken (but at least he actually paid me that day, unlike so many previous weeks). I drove around petrified and broken for hours upon hours while my entire family and many friends headed out all over the city trying to find me because the last thing I did after leaving my office was tell my husband I wanted to die and then I turned off my phone.

It was on that day that I lost my will to live. It was on that day that I became hopeless. It was on that day that I felt worthless. It was on that day that I realized I was a complete and utter failure and it was on that day that I discovered just how much of a burden I truly am. Something inside of me snapped that day five years ago or so it might of seemed at the time, but what I didn’t know then was I had truly been suffering in silence for a long, long time and didn’t even realize it.

A great deal of my pain and suffering is from many of the regrets I have in my life and although it’s only human to have some regrets throughout your lifetime, if they are not safely managed they can turn into depression and anxiety. Many of my regrets have left me feeling completely broken and feeling like I have absolutely no purpose in my life either. But at least now I can recognize how much power many of my regrets have taken away from me so that maybe I will one day be able to build from those regrets and find my true purpose in this world (this does not include my role as wife and mom).

Should The Media Report On Suicides?

*May Be Triggering To Some*

In the span of just one week three suicides have shattered two different communities. These aren’t just any ordinary communities but are instead the home to two of the deadliest mass school shootings in American history; Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland Florida (Feb 2018) and Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown Connecticut (Dec 2012) both suffered further devastation this week when two students from MSD (one had since graduated and was attending College) took their own lives and then just yesterday a broken hearted father from SH did so as well.

Those of us who watched these mass shootings unfold on the news (and so many others) will forever remember the horror and chaos that erupted during the time of the shootings and the aftermath of these communities trying to put their lives back together while also trying to grieve the pain of losing their loved ones in such a violent and tragic way.

So here’s the question(s) I have for you. Did reporting the suicide of 19 year old Sydney Aiello, who died a little over a week ago trigger the other young man (his name has not been released to the public) who still attended MSD to take his own life a few days later, or how about Jeremy Richman, the father of little six year old Avielle Richman who died in the mass shooting at SH just over six years ago?

Is there a connection? Did hearing of Sydney Aiello’s suicide last week give not one but two other individuals suffering similar pain and anguish the okay to end their lives too? Is suicide contagious? Is the media “inspiring” others to follow these tragic ideations? Studies have shown that individuals who are suffering with mental illness can most definitely be triggered by another individual’s suicide whether it’s a friend, a loved one or a famous person but was that the case here or was it all just coincidental?

So would we be better off not having an open dialogue about suicide? Absolutely not! And here’s why. I may say this often but it’s the truth, no two people are the same and no two journeys are the same either. And although these three individuals who took their own life may have been forever connected through similar violent tragedy, they were all on their own journey with their own truth which is why I believe it is still better to honour their lives by continuing to have an open dialogue about suicide than to sweep it under the rug and pretend it doesn’t exist. So long as the messages and resources being conveyed by the media are done in a safe and healthy manner then bring it on because the more attention and the more open dialogue there is on the subject then I truly believe it can and will save lives.

What Do You Have To Be Depressed About?

To many outsiders maybe my life looks great, I mean look at all my blessings. But you see, depression doesn’t care about all my blessings and when an outsider tries to “help” me by pointing out all the reasons why I shouldn’t be depressed it only makes me feel worse and causes me to feel more guilt and even more like a burden.

J.K Rowling who is most well known as the author of the Harry Potter series, who many may not know had also suffered with depression for many years was once quoted as saying “It’s so difficult to describe depression to someone who’s never been there, because it’s not sadness.” This is possibly the biggest reason why depression can be so confusing to so many outsiders because she’s so right, depression is a lot more than just feeling sad; it’s a blackness, it’s feeling insignificant, it’s exhaustion, it’s loneliness and it’s a feeling of hopelessness all rolled into one.

To imply to a person who is suffering with depression that they have so much to be thankful for, that they are so lucky, that they should just look on the bright side or that they have such a great life may be seen by the outsider as a good intention but in reality it is actually deeply discouraging to someone battling with depression. As I said above these phrases are just creating more feelings of being a burden and more feelings of guilt.

It may also make someone suffering with depression feel like they are not being heard and that their feelings are not being validated. These thoughts from an outsider implies that the individual who is suffering have no feelings of gratitude or that they are too self-absorbed to be grateful when in reality they are just too damn exhausted trying to fight with their emotions.

Depression is not just one simple feeling of sadness but is instead a complex combination of neurological, environmental and social components leaving someone suffering with depression feeling even more misunderstood when they hear these well intentioned phrases while putting an even bigger target on the disease itself by perpetuating the stigma further and dismissing the severity of the illness.

I can’t keep apologizing for who I am or who I have become anymore. I can’t continue to feel ashamed of my mental illness anymore and I can’t live with the guilt associated with the outsiders looking in who think that someone else may “have it much worse” than me. It won’t change the fact that I am who I am or that I have what I have and with or without guilt I am just trying to do what’s best for me. And yes I am beyond grateful, thankful and lucky for all the love and support that surrounds me everyday.

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.