Pathways

It's funny how my brain works sometimes.  There is someone at work who I talk to once in awhile.  I find that when I do have interactions with her I am always drawn in by her way of being, by the way she talks about things, by the interaction in general.  Then afterward, and pretty much every time, I find myself having a hard time.

The way this person sees the world is so different from the way I do, and that is probably where the attraction and the hard time come from.  I like to get to know people who see the world differently, to understand their viewpoints and perspectives. This is the attraction piece.

The hard time piece comes from the way she does see the world.  She so often sees the world as the glass half empty.  So often what she says is a worry about something that might happen.  And this is where the hard time comes for me.  After a conversation with her yesterday I came home and found myself fretting about all of the scenarios she had brought up (all of which I see as unlikely to ever happen), and wondering what on earth I would do if they happened. 

I recognize this behaviour in me, it was so ingrained when I was in the thick of depression.  It is also not how I interact with the world anymore.  But, with this person I find myself going back there, every time.  Funny how one person can open up all those pathways for me again and I can go back to being the way I was.  Thankfully, I usually notice that I feel off fairly quickly and can talk myself out of it.  I can remember that her way of being is hers and I can choose not to be that way anymore.

The  challenge  for me, I think is to figure how to manage this in the future.  I will undoubtedly be in a position to talk to this person again.  How do I avoid the attraction so that I can keep the conversations shorter and to the point I need to discuss with her?  How do I remember to let her have her stuff and not worry about it?  Things to think about.

The un-stigma

Psychotherapy is for the strong, the brave and the healthy. Talk about a powerful message. I was in to see my therapist this week and this is the message she was giving me. More than that though, the conversation came as a way of helping me articulate something that had been rattling around in my head.

For a long time now, probably ever since the day of my diagnosis of depression, I have had it in my head that I will only be ok once I stop taking medication and no longer go to therapy.  Recently something shifted in me and I realized how not true this is.

I am pretty sure that depression is chronic for me. (I will be happy if this is ever proved wrong). And so, I need to continue to live with it, rather than suffer from it. Personally, I don't like or use the phrase "battling depression". For me, it feels like I am fighting myself, and the only way to be ok is to eradicate all signs of depression. I much prefer living with it. The same way people live with diabetes.

With this mindset, I really have started to piece together the things I need to live in a healthy way. So far, medication is a part of the picture. I will try again to stop taking it, at some point. Exercise, eating fruit and vegetables, and less processed sugar. Not over packing my life with activity, leaving room for down time. I am sure there are other things as this is a pretty new exercise for me. The final one though is psychotherapy.

I see a therapist about once a month. It does me a tonne of good. For the most part, things are going pretty well these days and so my sessions with her are different than they used to be. It is nice to have a place where I talk about things that are hard to talk about, and often I find a different way of thinking about things.

So why for the brave, strong and healthy? Let's say that therapy is one of the hardest things I have ever done. It has been a place where I have faced a lot of difficult truths, about me and about others. It is a place where I have had awful panic attacks because of the areas of discussion. It is the place where I have relived some pretty awful trauma in order to make some sense of it. And it is the place where healing began and continues to this day. So that explains the strong and brave part.

The therapist I saw this week said that really, for the most part, the people she sees are the healthy people. The people who are interested in finding new ways of being. The people that are truly suffering are usually the ones that do not seek help and spin in circles. I was once one of those people. My life felt so out of control. Thoughts that now seem irrational, seemed totally reasonable, including feeling so stuck in a traumatic situation that the only way I could see to end the pain was to take me own life.

Then I got some help, some real help. From someone who saw past the facade and made me face some hard stuff. But also started me on a journey from mental illness to mental health.

Trauma begets trauma

A colleague, not one I knew well, but one I have talked to on numerous occassions, was charged this past weekend with murdering his wife and hiding her body since last November. Pretty freaky really.

So, they say that one trauma is likely to open up other past trauma. Living with PTSD, I know well how this works. Today this happened to me. It is funny where the mind goes. For me, it was to my 1st year at university, living in residence. One of the guys in rez, from my floor, took his own life over Christmas vacation. The university did precious little after the fact. Well 10 months later they sent in grief counselors. And in the first week back from vacation they told us not to talk to the media.

Today the opposite happened. There was a counselor on sight all day and he held a number of group and individual sessions. I guess this is the part that triggered the old trauma.

I remember the feelings of confusion,  disbelief and sadness when it happened. I also remember the feeling that nobody cared. Not about him, or about the effect of his actions on us. Hard things to process. Today I knew that people cared about the effect this was having on people.

I am ok this time. The one thing about going through the process I have been through with depression, trauma and PTSD, is that I am so much more aware of what I feel and need. Yesterday when I read the news, I contacted my sister and my parents. Today I rearranged a meeting to be able to go to one of the group sessions. Little things maybe, but the things I needed to do to take care of me.

Not that many years ago I would have felt like I didn't deserve to have any feelings about this as I didn't really know the guy. I would have thought that I didn't deserve to take the time I needed to do some things that are good for me. What an amazing difference for me.

Not helping ourselves

I hate the term "coming out of the closet" or the shortened versions "coming out" or "out".  It is used as short-hand for "when did you tell the world you are gay/lesbian?" I am sure it it used for other people on the sexual spectrum as well, but that is out of my realm of experience and therefore I will stick to what I know.

Why do I hate the terminology? Mainly because, even though things are changing, it continues to speak to shame. It still says that people whose sexual preference is not heterosexual need to tell the world about this side of themselves, and that this side is something that was hidden in the proverbial closet. Something to be kept a secret. Something to be ashamed of.

This terminology is pretty ingrained in our society, both with those who are gay and straight. When I first started going to events and getting to know other lesbians, the first question was almost always about when I came out. (As an aside this is a real turn-off for me and a big part of the reason I don't participate in many of those events). Sometimes the question was asked in a way that was meant to be kind and supportive. In those instances the response to my answer of recently was usually kind. In some instances, the question was asked so that the person could feel good about themselves as they had been "out" longer. The term "baby lesbian" was condescendingly used a number times.

So, why can't we just be who we are? Do I want some people in my life to know I prefer women? Absolutely, mainly so I can talk about who I am freely, and maybe they can set me up? The thing is though that is only a part of me, in the same way I like to cycle and knit are parts of me.

I am sure the terminology will continue to prevade for a long time to come. Used in a way that is not meant to illicit shame is fine with me. I hope this is becoming more and more the norm, in all circles. Everyone, gay, lesbian, straight or something else, has their own journey. Sexual preference is one of those steps.

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