Ride Don't Hide

Today I rode my bike in the Canadian Mental Health Associations Ride Don't Hide.  There are 3 distances, 105 km, 50 km and 10 km. I rode 10, hopefully 50 next year. They had their own focus for the ride. I had my own reasons.

I wanted to do something to give back. I am one of the lucky ones living with mental illness. I have had great support from the people around me. And I have health benefits at work that mean I can afford timely treatment. I don't have to wait for the public system access to psychologists. I can take the medication I want, even though it is expensive because it doesn't have a generic version. And I, for the most part, don't worry too much about the stigma. I wanted to find a way to pay some of that forward.

I truly believe that there is a shift in attitudes towards mental health and mental illness. I want to help push that forward. I know that so many people suffer for a long time because they are afraid to seek help. I get it. It took me a long time before I would admit to depression also. Hopefully the more the conversation is out in the open, the earlier people will be able to seek help. I hope this is true.

My last reason is that it does me good once in awhile to see the support that is out there for people with mental illness. There is a certan positive energy at these kinds of events. Energy that I take in. Energy that encourages me and makes me braver. Today when they were announcing how many people were participating across the country and the effort people had put into creating teams and fundraising, and seeing all the families out, it made me really emotional. Ok it made me cry. It reminded me again that there are a lot of people out there that think that mental health is important and that are willing to say it out loud and to show it through their actions. This is cool to me.

And so, I encourage you to talk about mental health. To continue to move the conversation out of the shadows into the open. And, if you like to cycle, join me next year. We can even form a team.

Growing Old

Somedays the aging process seems like a lot.
You notice that your eyes don't see as well
You notice that your ears don't hear as well.
You notice that you forget words mid-sentence.
You notice that your body isn't the same, and you know those changes will continue.
And you wonder if it is worth it.

And then you hear of your sister's friend dying of cancer.
You hear of a police officer shot dead.
You remember the people you have known that died younger than you are now.
You remember the people you knew who died at only slightly older than you are now.
You think of the ex-coworker, who you met when he was 15, battling cancer, fighting for his life.
You remember the day you thought life itself wasn't worth living and nearly took your own life.

And you know that aging is worth it as there are so many people that don't get to.
You know that they would give anything to say I love you to their spouse one more time.
To see their children grow up.
To have another beer with their buddies.
To keep living this crazy thing we call life.

And so, you take a deep breath and launch yourself back into life.
The joy, the sorrow, the love, the pain.
And you remember that you are privleged to live another day.

The Scene of the Crime

Yesterday I went to Edmonton to watch the FIFA Women's World Cup soccer. I used to live in Edmonton. It is where all of my hardest days were. It is where the workplace bullying happened and where I was one thought away from taking my own life. It is where I felt betrayed by life.

When I moved from there I was determind to leave it all behind and forget about all the crap. I have been back a handfull of times, all but yesterday before I really understood the PTSD symptoms I experience and before I had any kind of coping skills with them. The lack of trips there has been hard on the few friendships I really do value... but I digress.

So, yesterday. I was so excited to go see the soccer. And the truth is I wasn't even thinking about the crap that happened in the last few years of living there. I was enjoying the drive. Then we got to Leduc, about 20 km outside of Edmonton, and it started. The awful sick feeling in my stomach, the nausea, the very real realization that I was having a panic attack. And the equally real thought that I was trapped in a car full of women that I don't know all that well. Certainly not well enough to want to talk about what was happening.

The spot on the road was familiar. Every time I would return from visiting my family in Calgary, that is about the spot the anxiety would kick in. And so, it happened again

It was tough, especially as I was trying to hide it, and be the navigator as I was the only one familiar with the city. What I learned is that I do have a few more coping skills. By the time we got to the park and ride I was doing better, and by the time we got to the stadium I was ok. 

Interesting really. The bus went right by one of my old apartments, from the days before things got really bad. I was reminded of some of the good days of living in Edmonton. I know that was good for me as I haven't really been able to see beyond the bad days for a long time.

I also learned that I can be in the city and be ok. How that would play out going past the condo I lived in at the worst of it, or the building where I worked might be different. I didn't get near either of those places. But I did remember some of the good times in the areas I was in, so that is a start. Even without the physical reminder of being there, maybe it will help me see my life there in a more real way.

#blog4mh