Day Three: Create

This blog post is part of my 2017 Write 31 Days blog series 31 Reflections on Mental Health and Illness. To read the whole series, click here for the series index page.

There is power in art. It has the power to transfix, move, inspire, enlighten, excite, overwhelm, and even heal. Most of these powers are found in the finished work of art -- whether that is a painting or book or movie or piece of music -- but the healing power of art is often found in the creation of it.

As someone who has spent a lot of her life involved in singing, dance, and theatre arts, I have a deep appreciation for all the many forms that art takes. Although I am not very gifted when it comes to the visual arts like drawing, painting, or sculpture, I find myself drawn to them and drawn to try to create something using paints, pencils, or other media. I used to wonder why I felt this way, but the older I have gotten, I think the reason is that I find something in creating a piece of visual art that benefits my mental health. There is nothing quite like skimming a pencil, pen, brush, or even a crayon over a fresh white sheet of paper and causing it to bring forth shapes, lines, and colour. Likewise, there is something infinitely satisfying about the feeling of clay, fabric, or yarn in my hands as I manipulate it into something that pleases me or expresses what I am feeling. It soothes and comforts my spirit to create. The very act of creation can be healing in and of itself, but creating something can be healing in another way.

One of the things that I am most adamant about when it comes to mental health is talk therapy. I have been through hours and hours of therapy. After all these years, you would think that I have this talking thing down. The problem is that even though Pendragon (my therapist of just over 8 years) knows me better than nearly anyone (save my husband), there are times when I find it hard to express what I'm feeling in words. That's when I sometimes turn to creating something that, hopefully, expresses what is inside my head and heart better than I can verbalise.

I didn't always do this, but about two years or so ago, I got a spiral bound sketch book and some basic art supplies (crayons, coloured pencils, oil pastels, markers) and every time I was feeling like I needed to get something out but couldn't find the words (or wasn't able to talk to Pendragon at that moment), I would get out the sketch book and start creating. The first time I did this, I was away from home visiting my in-laws and feeling really overwhelmed by the cacophony of all the noise and activity in their house, so I went to the local Panera Bread with my art supplies, grabbed a cup of coffee and settled in for an hour or two. When I left there, I felt more grounded and better able to manage my emotions.

Later, when I got home, I shared what I had drawn with Pendragon. He asked me questions and made observations about it (some of which surprised me) and I was able to glean an insight or two as well. After that experience, I packed my art supplies in a backpack and now whenever I am going to be away from home for several hours (and I know that I'll have an hour or so free time while I'm gone), I grab the backpack and take it along. Most recently, I was struggling to explain to Pendragon my current mental state, so I decided to try to draw it out. I'm not a great artist, but when I showed it to him at our next session, he immediately connected the dots and helped me to better understand it too. He also pulled some meaning out of it that, while not something I'd originally intended, was startlingly accurate and very helpful in my healing.

If you are struggling to express your feelings or need a way to help release some difficult emotions, I encourage you to create something. You can use whatever materials you like. The only rule I have for myself when I create a piece of therapeutic art is that I draw what I'm feeling and I don't hold back. If it's happy, I draw happiness. If it's sad, I draw sadness. If it's dark and dangerous, I draw dark and dangerous. If it's a mix of emotions, I draw the mix. The reason I don't hold back is that I want to be honest about my feelings -- even the really difficult, messy, and scary ones -- so that I can find healing through the act of creation. So go forth and create!

P. S. Sometimes I create by baking something. I've always loved baking (and cooking) and I am pretty good at it too. I find the repetitive movements involved in the process (chopping, peeling, stirring, kneading, measuring, etc) very soothing and it's always fun to see and eat the end result of all that work.

Day Two: Tell

This blog post is part of my 2017 Write 31 Days blog series 31 Reflections on Mental Health and Illness. To read the whole series, click here for the series index page.

When it comes to caring for your mental health, in my opinion, there's no more important thing than today's prompt. One of the lies that a mental illness will tell you is that you are totally alone in your struggles and that if you tell someone about what you're feeling or thinking, no one will care or believe you or they'll think less of you. This is often a hard lie to overcome, but it is an absolute requirement that you overcome it. If you don't tell someone, it won't have even a prayer of getting better. Once you overcome this, you've taken your first step on the road toward healing and health. With that in mind, here are three "tells" that are helpful as you journey forward.

1. Tell a licensed professional therapist or counsellor.

Talking to a friend or family member about what you're feeling is a great first step and it will help to a certain degree. We all need friends and family around us who are willing to listen when we need to vent, but if you're struggling with mental illness, just venting isn't going to be quite enough. A counsellor provides a neutral, non-judgmental, and outside perspective on what you're going through. They can also see things that you (and your friends or family) may not be capable of seeing due to their education and experience. Finally, a counsellor or therapist can refer you to a psychiatrist if you need medication, a psychologist for testing or more focused treatment, or other helpful resources that apply to your situation. A counsellor isn't there to tell you what to do or fix the issue for you. They are there to listen, offer perspective and insights, and guide you toward helping yourself.

Oh, and if you need to vent, they are there for that too. I have lots of people I can vent to, but there is something quite different about venting to my therapist inasmuch as I can say absolutely whatever comes into my head without fear of judgment. For his part, he often replies to my venting with something that brings about a new insight for me or helps me process whatever I'm venting about in a way that a friend or family member just can't do.

2. Tell someone if you are having thoughts of suicide.

This one is an absolute MUST. I cannot stress the importance of this one enough.

If you are thinking of killing yourself -- even if it's just a fleeting thought that goes away -- tell someone about it. It doesn't really matter who you tell, so long as you tell someone. Thoughts of suicide are serious and I want you to keep living. You can tell:

• a friend 
• a family member
• a therapist/counsellor
• a doctor or nurse
• a minister 
• a coworker
• a police officer or firefighter
• or even a stranger. 

So what if you don't feel comfortable telling anyone in your day to day real life because you're afraid of being judged or of what will happen to you if you confess those thoughts? You can tell someone and remain anonymous.

• In the US, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or you can go to their website and use their online chat to talk to someone about those thoughts. 
• If you don't want to talk to someone on the phone or via online chat, you can also text. Just text the word HELP or TALK or HELLO to the Crisis Text Line at 741-741 and a trained crisis counsellor will text with you about what you're feeling. 

I keep both of these numbers stored in my phone contacts so that if I'm struggling and need an immediate listening ear, I don't have remember them or look them up in the moment. I would encourage you to do the same or at least jot them down on something to put in your wallet or purse.
 
3. Tell your story.

This one may seem counter-intuitive, but trust me. Telling your story can be incredibly helpful and healing. Despite the fact that we are talking about issues surrounding mental health and mental illness more than ever these days, we still have a long way to go toward eliminating the stigma that surrounds this subject in our society. People remain very shy and secretive about the fact that they have struggled with depression or anxiety. They worry about what others will think about them if they know or they consider it a "personal" matter that isn't something that they feel comfortable sharing with anyone. They may get treatment for it, but they do it quietly and perhaps no one ever knows, but them and their tightest inner circle.

Besides getting treatment, one of the best things I ever did for myself was to start writing about my struggles with mental illness. It was really hard when I began sharing openly about depression, anxiety, PTSD, struggles with my faith, etc. but the more I have shared, the more I have begun to understand how much it helps me. Eventually, I wrote a public declaration of the fact that I will no longer remain silent about my struggles with mental illness. I shared that one blog post as far and as wide as I could. I asked others to consider sharing it too. I am convinced that if more of us were completely vulnerable with each other, then in time, the stigma would be significantly reduced to almost nothing and those who struggle would realise that they are not alone and would feel comfortable getting the help they need.

This is why I encourage you to tell your story to the world. You need not blog about it or share it all over Facebook. You can start small by telling a friend, coworker, neighbour, or acquaintance that you've never confided in about your struggles. You can join a mental health advocacy group and tell your story to those in the group. Of course, you can blog about it too. For me, telling my story has involved all of those and by and large, it has had a real healing effect on me. There is something incredibly powerful about bringing your struggles into the light which makes you stronger and the illness weaker. By giving voice to your pain and mental health struggles, you also encourage others who may be fighting their illness without help to know that they are not alone and that help is available. It may be hard (and it's still hard for me sometimes), but I know you can do it!

Five Minute Friday: Slow

Hey friends! It's been a while since I joined in with the folks at Five Minute Friday. If you're just joining me, know that this is a little longer than the average FMF post and that's because I don't set a timer. Yes, I know, I know. That's supposed to be the point, but I just can't do it that way. So I kinda do it my way. If you're a fast to moderately fast reader though, this should take you five minutes or so to read (so there's your five minutes). If you'd like to join up with this week's posts on the prompt word SLOW, then hop over to this week's prompt at Kate's blog and click on the linkup at the bottom of the page. Without further ado...

SLOW

It's been almost two months since the last time I posted here and I wish I could say that it's because life has been moving really fast or that I've just been so busy that I didn't have time to write, but I can't say that. Life has been, as it happens, pretty slow. The very beginning of the year, from just after New Year's to about mid-March, tends to be a wonderfully slow time of year that follows on the heels of the whirlwind of activity that comprises daily life and the many family and faith celebrations from September to December.

And friends, let me tell you, I need slow.

I have always been a fan of this time of respite and slowed down activity, but this year, it took on a new meaning for me. I didn't really realise it until this past Thursday when I was sitting in Dr. D's office and we were wrapping up our session. It had been a pretty intense session of EMDR and talking and my emotions were pretty close to the surface. I don't recall the exact thread of conversation, but somewhere in the midst of our normal wrap up talk, he commented that he thought I was on the right track with what we were working on. I agreed with him and replied that although I knew it was, it was still hard. He said "Oh yes, I know it is. I think though, part of the reason it's hard is because it feels like your progress is coming so slowly right now, but once we get through processing a lot of these memories, you'll notice that your progress speeds up and goes much faster."

You see, through the past four years I've been wishing for fast. I've been craving for time and progress and everything to just speed up and get me through this pain I feel. It hurts a lot when you're going through severe suicidal depression and PTSD. You feel like it's a nightmare that will never end and because it's so painful and so exhausting, you yearn for the passage of time (and all the normal thing that come along with it, like therapy sessions and tears and the like) to speed up so you just don't have to feel it anymore. Slow is the last thing you want and yet, time moves along like a turtle in a swimming pool of molasses.

What struck me about what Dr. D said on Thursday is that I knew the moment he said it that it was true and that I had already experienced that. Back in November, we took a pretty significant break from doing EMDR (a traumatic memory processing technique) because of the fact that I had experienced a very intense trigger around that time that needed to be worked through. Trying to work through traumatic memories on top of dealing with intense triggers can be far too much all at once, so we stopped the EMDR and to focus on helping me cope with the intense trigger. What I noticed during this break of about 2 to 2.5 months was that my progress did, in fact, speed up. I had more energy, more ability to handle day to day stresses, lessened irritability, and my sleep wasn't nearly as fraught with nightmares as it had been.

At some point in January, once the holidays had passed and things were calmer, we started doing EMDR again. Some of the things I'd seen improve stayed, while others slowed, and still others came to a halt altogether. I found myself wishing that it would speed up again and stop with all the slow movement. I got very frustrated, but kept pressing on despite it. The more frustrated I got though, the slower it seemed to go because I was avoiding some of the things I needed to do for myself to keep moving forward. I wasn't really facing the demons of my traumas and looking them full in the face. I was only really doing the bare minimum because I wanted to get to the part where things speed up again.

When Dr. D mentioned the bit about "processing a lot of these memories" I realised that I not only had experienced this, but that the slowing down that was happening was a natural part of the process. I also realised that until the last couple of weeks, I hadn't been fully embracing that slowness or the process. I can't say what changed and made it so that I began to embrace it again, but in that moment last Thursday, I realised something very fundamental about my healing journey: I need slow.

I need these times of slowness and intense therapy where I look at these things under a microscope and plunge deep into these memories. I need these times when I am pushing forward through molasses and sobbing uncontrollably as I face the traumas of my past anew. I need the slowness of these times to allow me to really find and untangle the threads which are binding my mind in a feedback loop of reliving these memories because that is painstaking, complicated work that requires patience, determination, a great deal of help from others, and a very slow perseverance. I need the slowness of only being able to do the basics of self care and resting a lot so that I don't get overloaded. I need to feel the intensity of the emotions that surface so I can learn how to cope with them and better manage them. I need slow.

So things are slow right now. Things are really intense too. The stuff my brain has been dredging up the last couple of weeks has been so intense that I've felt weak physically and needed a boost of caffeine and food immediately afterward just to be able to drive safely. It's also needed a lot of unpacking after processing, so my sessions with Dr. D have run longer and I've been seeing Pendragon at least twice a week and almost immediately after I see Dr. D each week. You'd think that it would be therapy overload and sometimes it's pretty intense too, but it's keeping me on a more even keel than I think I would be if I didn't have that extra help. The great thing about having these two professionals helping me is that they both have different perspectives and help me find different threads of connection and understanding that I might not be able to find without them. Gray helps too. We often do a little debrief when I come home and very often, things come up that later get addressed with EMDR or in talking with Pendragon or Dr. D.

With all that intensity and slowness, I know I will be glad for a time when we break from things so that progress speeds and breathing is easier, but knowing that this slowness is part of the process and that it is moving me forward is helpful. As much as this slowness is hard, it is forcing me to look at these traumatic memories full on and really feel the impact of them in a way that allows me to understand them and move past them instead of repressing them or hiding from them.

It's very hard work and it's very painful and there are days, like yesterday, when the pain is so fierce that I want everything to end -- but I know that slow doesn't have to mean running away and death by suicide. I know that all this pain and agony as I face this stuff in the slow is shaping me into a better person who is stronger, braver, and better equipped to do the work that He has planned for me as a wife, mother, mental health/suicide prevention advocate, and child of God.

The mountain is steep and the climb arduous, breath-stealing, excruciatingly painful, and interminably slow, but I know the vista that awaits me at the top will be worth it all the more for the journey.

Day Two: First

When life comes along with a challenge or a task which seems complicated or overwhelming, many people ask the question, "What do we do first?" It's the natural human way of approaching something that has lots of pieces, parts, steps, or that seems difficult to understand or navigate. First steps are important to get right because they can often determine the course of things or the order of any steps which come after it. They may even determine the outcome of a particular endeavour.

When you realise or someone else realises that you are experiencing symptoms of what may be a mental illness, it is the perfect question to ask. There are a few different first steps that can be taken when this is the case:

1. Make an appointment with your regular doctor. 

At this appointment, talk to him or her about your concerns and your symptoms. As your regular doctor knows your medical history, he can use that to determine if perhaps your symptoms are related to an issue you already have and if so, what the appropriate action is. He may order blood or imaging tests to rule out certain physical illnesses which may have symptoms that are the same as what you are experiencing. He may prescribe medication or change a medication that you already take. He may also go ahead and refer you to a psychiatrist and/or therapist.

2. You can make an appointment with a therapist or psychiatrist.

If you have many symptoms that seem to fit a particular mental illness and you are reasonably sure you aren't physically ill, you may choose to do this as your first step. Like meeting with your doctor, a psychiatrist or therapist can help you understand if you do have a diagnosable mental illness that needs therapy or medications. If you do not have a diagnosable mental illness, a therapist or psychiatrist can still help you in dealing with the symptoms or particular challenges of whatever is actually going on which is causing the symptoms -- including if it's caused by a physical illness of some kind.

3. If you realise you are having symptoms of a mental illness, but no one else around you has noticed, tell someone.

This is a hard first step, I know. It requires a lot of courage and some discernment too. It may be the very last thing you want to do, but it's critical if you want to get better. I know that sounds like I'm exaggerating, but it really is that vital. If you have a mental illness, you're going to need a strong support system outside of your doctor and/or therapist. You're going to want someone you can call or text or visit with who will listen, be there for you, and walk with you through it. Since not everyone is equipped to handle being that kind of support, that's where the discernment comes into play. You want to choose someone who you trust and who you know you can count on when things get hard. Ideally, this should be someone who is close enough to where you live that you can be around them in person, but it doesn't have to be. Even better would be for you to have more than one person you can talk to about things, so that if one person is unable to be there in a given moment, you've got other people you can turn to when things go pear-shaped.

4. If you don't have anyone you can tell how about your symptoms, try calling the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 (TALK) and talk to someone there. 

You don't have to be suicidal to call them. They are trained to listen and can offer a way of venting your feelings if you have no one you can turn to in your day to day life. They can also provide you with resources to find help in your area if you don't know where to start looking. I keep this number in my phone for myself for those times when I know that my support people are either tapped out emotionally or physically or when they're unavailable for some reason (like being out of contact because of vacation or limited access to phone or the internet). I have called a few times as well when I had my normal supports available, but was struggling to reach out to them like I normally would. The Lifeline is a great resource for anyone who is struggling with mental health issues and for those who are part of their support team.

Just as there are positive first steps you can take as you start a particular task, there are ones that, if taken, will make your task all the harder. With that in mind, here are three "first steps" to avoid:

1. Staying silent and trying to go it alone. -- Silence helps no one, least of all, you. If you're dealing with a mental illness, going it alone and trying to muscle your way through it in silence will only work for so long. Ask me how I know this.

2. Freaking out and doing nothing. -- This is a hard one to avoid because it's a very common reaction when you're dealing with something that is as overwhelming as the symptoms of mental illness can be. Also, no one really wants to have a mental illness, so freaking out is pretty normal. Just don't let it stop you completely.

3. Ignoring the symptoms in the hope that they will go away. -- If you have a diagnosable mental illness and you do this, I can guarantee you that it won't work and it will only make things worse. It won't help if your symptoms are the result of a physical illness either. Trust me. Ignoring things and trying to distract yourself from what you're feeling may work temporarily, but in the long run, you'll need some help from professionals in one way or another.

If you follow the first steps mentioned above (and avoid those other first steps), you will be glad you did. It's a pretty tired old adage, but it's true when people say that the first step is the hardest. It is. That first step takes immense courage and when you're already feeling so vulnerable, that can be even harder. Know this though: you CAN do it. You can! I believe in you! Go forth and conquer that first step! Once you've done it, you'll be on the path and then, it's just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and taking it one step at a time.

Five Minute Friday: Rest

It's been a while, but here I am again, joining in with the Five Minute Friday community at Kate Motaung's blog, Heading Home. If you're interested in seeing what this is all about, just click here for the details. If you'd like to check out this week's prompt word and the posts from the rest of the community over at Kate's, click here. The link up is at the bottom of the page just below Kate's contribution to this week's prompt word.......

REST

I haven't been writing much in this blog over the last couple of months and the biggest reason is that I needed some rest. It sounds a bit silly to say it like that because, if anything, the last couple of months have been less than restful. They've been arduous, restless, painful at times, busy, and even joyous too.

So where is the rest?

It's certainly not in my bed. Insomnia is my ever constant companion and seems to pull at me no matter how physically exhausted I may be. I do get some sleep, but it's not enough and the nightmares that have plagued me for so long continue largely unabated.

The rest I've been seeking has been found in simplifying my daily routine as much as possible so as to eliminate stresses. I've been purposefully taking breaks from social media at times. I've taught myself to avoid reading about topics that add to my stress levels -- like politics, harrowing stories of violence, etc. I'll admit that I'm not totally good at that, but I've been really trying because it helps. As much as I enjoy writing in this blog, I was starting to feel a bit of pressure to write here and that was adding to my stress. So I let it go. I've written a couple of brief update posts just to let people know that I'm still alive and kicking, but other than that, I've not really written much at all.

When I started blogging and making my blog public, I worried about how many comments I got and what people thought and how many hits there were, but all of that changed last fall. Last September 29th, I almost killed myself. I had a night when I plunged as deep as I've ever been in a long time. The darkness hit me so fast and so heavy that I might have been a stone cast into a lake that is sinking fast. An almost three hour appointment with Pendragon slowed my descent somewhat, but not enough. It took another three and a half hours on the phone with my brother Chez to halt things and start bringing me back up to the surface. It was another three days before I was breathing more easily again.

The whole experience jolted something within me and caused me to realise that I had narrowly escaped death. It made me reassess the important things and overhaul my day to day life so that it was more focused on self-care, survival, and recovery from this episode of depression. I stopped worrying about hits and comments. I started doing everything I could to minimize stress. Admittedly, when you've been living your life for a long time in a certain way, it's hard to make those changes, but I knew I had it to do if I didn't want another night like that one.

I tried to keep blogging at a rate of one post or two per week, but it was much harder than I wanted it to be and often, the inspiration just didn't come. When a week or two would go by, I felt guilty about not doing better at it. Guilt is not a friend to recovery from depression. In fact, it makes things worse because it feeds the cycle of self-recrimination that many people with depression tend to fall into where they beat themselves up for not being good enough or being worthless. I fell into that over and over again when it came to this blog. I kept telling myself that I just wasn't good enough and no one cared about anything I was writing. It certainly felt that way to me. Then I'd let it go for a while and feel guilty about not writing. I tried writing devotions on the Psalms, but after about 18 days of doing that, I couldn't keep it up. I had no energy for it and despite the fact that I had committed to God that I would do it, I just couldn't make myself. I'm still feeling bad about that, to be honest.

So after several months of fighting within myself about the blog, I let it go.

I decided to take a rest from it.

In the past couple of months, I've had some inspirations, but nothing that really prodded me to write. Lately though I've been working on a couple of things. One of these is a post about my trip to New York City which was three weeks ago. That's been a harder one than I expected to write because I want to tell every little detail, but I'm afraid that anyone who reads here might decide that it's too long or that he needs a rest in the middle. Editing myself, if you can't tell, is not my strong suit.

So I've been trying to rest from writing for a bit. I've needed it. PTSD is a hard illness to deal with and having a diagnosis and going through specific treatment for it is harder still. It is, to steal a phrase from the British, rather a lot to be getting on with. I would like to say that I'm back, but I know the reality is that for a while yet, I'm going to need to rest as much as I can. At best, I can say that I'll be sporadic, but I'll try to write whenever the inspiration strikes.

For now though, it's time to end this post and rest.

Suicide Prevention Week - How You Can Help

Today's the day! It's both World Suicide Prevention Day and National Suicide Prevention Day (USA).

One of my favourite charities that works to #StopSuicide is the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. They are so dedicated to working toward their goal of reducing the number of suicides nationwide by 20% by the year 2025. I was so honoured to work with them by participating in one of their two national Overnight Walks this past summer in Boston. Not only was the walk an amazing experience, but my fundraising efforts were added to all the rest to total just over $3 million raised. That money will go to the various programs AFSP has which:

• help educate teachers, school administrators, students, businesses, and other professionals about suicide prevention and how to identify and help those in their schools and workplaces who may be at risk
• help those who have survived the loss of a loved one to suicide with grief support that is tailored to that specific kind of loss
• help local, state, and national government lawmakers create laws which will help raise awareness, educate others, and better enable those who need help to get it
• help raise awareness about suicide prevention through community programs, public service announcements, social media campaigns, billboards and the Field Advocacy program
• and help schools and other large organizations identify individuals who are at risk and help connect them with mental health services

I highly encourage you to consider getting involved with this organization in some way. Suicide is 100% preventable, but no one person can accomplish that feat. I may be wrong, but given that 41, 149 people died by suicide in America in 2013, I'd wager that the vast majority of Americans have been touched, in at least some small way, by suicide.

But being touched by it isn't enough. We need to use that sadness and grief to spur us into action to prevent other deaths. 41,149 deaths by suicide is 41,149 too many.

So what can you do?

1. Share your story of how suicide has touched your life. If it's a personal struggle, it may be very hard to share it, but know that by being courageous, you may just save a life. 
2. If you've already shared your story, keep sharing it. Once is great, but sharing it again and again reaches more people and that's the point of awareness -- to reach as many people as possible with the message.
3. Learn the warning signs of suicide. Check out this great graphic:
   
   Notice that first warning sign -- talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself. The others are very important, but if you hear someone talking about wanting to die, then STOP and PAY ATTENTION. Anyone who exhibits that warning sign should be taken very seriously. 
4. Educate yourself about mental illness. At least 90% (if not more) of people who end their own lives were struggling with a mental illness of some kind. It may have been diagnosed, but often it is something that hasn't been diagnosed for one reason or another. All mental illness carries with it some risk for suicide, but Major Depressive Disorder (aka Depression), Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) are the most common among people who have killed themselves. Learn the symptoms and signs of these illnesses and use that information to help those around you who are struggling. Encourage friends and family to seek out a professional evaluation if you or they suspect they may have a mental illness. A proper diagnosis is CRITICAL to getting proper treatment and going it alone because you're afraid may make things worse.
5. Get involved. Even if you can't do a community or Out of the Darkness walk with the AFSP or raise a lot of money, you can still make a difference. If you have access to a computer, you can #BeTheVoice for those who are struggling and need help by getting the word out via social media. You can do what I do and blog about suicide prevention and mental illness. You can reach out via phone, letters, and emails to your local and state governments and your national representatives and senators. You can write and call local television and radio stations on behalf of someone who is raising money. You can help organize a community walk fundraiser. You can make a commitment to pray every day for those who struggle and those who help them. There's LOTS to do.

I'll close this National Suicide Prevention Day with a special prayer to God, asking for the intercession of my patron saint, St. Dymphna. She is the patroness of mental illness and mental healthcare workers and is someone I've asked to pray for me many, many times. Feel free to pray along with me (the following is from a prayer card I have, hence the odd mention of "nervous disease"):

+ O merciful God, you have willed that St. Dymphna should be invoked as the patroness of nervous and mental disease. Grant that, through the prayer of this youthful martyr of purity, those who suffer from nervous and mental illness may be helped and consoled. I recommend to You in particular those who are struggling with suicidal thoughts that You would send loving hands and hearts to help them out of the darkness of hopelessness and despair and into the light of a new day. Grant them skilled and compassionate mental healthcare workers, a strong network of support, and the strength to persevere to the natural end of their lives. Through Christ, Our Lord. Amen. +

Five Minute Friday: Try

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

****

July 2009

"No."

"Why not? Why not try it?"

I look around the office at the book case, the desk, the carpet and window and swallow. There is a fear stuck in my throat and I don't know if I can give voice to it. I look at Pendragon again.

"H-h-hospital. You said hospitalisation program..." I manage to stammer.

"Yes, it's the partial hospitalisation program, " he says. I look down at my lap.

"I don't want to go in the hospital.." I reply.

"It's not like a real hospital. It's an outpatient program. You go during the day and then you go home at night. Actually, it doesn't even look like a hospital." Pendragon tries to explain it more fully for me.

I am wary, skittish, and very afraid. It is early days in our therapeutic relationship and I'm still learning whether or not this man sitting across from me is trustworthy. And now he wants me to stick my neck out and try something new and scary? Something that probably won't work?

"No, I don't think so."  My answers are short and to the point, something that is very unlike me, but it is anxiety creeping in and an unspoken fear that this is something that he will somehow force me to try eventually.

But he doesn't. He nods. "Just think about it, okay? I really think if you give it a try, you'll benefit greatly from what that program has to offer. There's a great program therapist, Samantha. She's really great."

He's hit one of my hot buttons. I stare at him with daggers.

"She???" I query, wondering if I've heard him correctly. He knows how I feel about women and my past experiences.

"Yes, she. Actually, she's a lot like you," he says. Unlikely, I think, inwardly rolling my eyes. Despite my attempt to keep my disgust to myself, he senses it and continues, "No really, she is. Your personalities are very similar. I really think you'd like her a lot. And all that aside, the information is good stuff and I think would be very helpful to you."

I shift in my seat, glancing down at my hands, biting my lower lip as I think. "No, no, I really don't think so."

"Okay, okay, it was a thought. If you change your mind, and decide to give it a try, there's some fliers in the reception area about it and all you have to do is let me know," he answers and turns toward the computer on his desk. I can see by the clock on the wall that our time is almost up.

"Okay," I answer. We make another appointment for two weeks later and he ushers me out of the office.

In the reception area, I pass by the fliers in their little bins on the wall and wander over. My eyes flit over the various group therapy fliers and just as I'm about to walk toward the door, I happen to spy the one marked "Partial Hospitalisation Program."

I freeze for a moment, my breath catching in my throat. Then without another thought, I reach out, grasp one of the fliers and fold it in half with my appointment paper as I walk to the car. I don't know why I took one, but now it's burning a hole in my purse and I feel like I've made some kind of decision, although perhaps only subconsciously. I open the paper and read the information on it. My stomach is in knots and I am tempted to crumple it up and toss it out the window, but I don't. I keep that paper in my purse and look at it several times, reading the information over and over again.

A month later as I am sitting in Pendragon's office for another regular appointment, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I am sitting cross legged on the little sofa and am trying to think of how to respond to his usual opening question regarding how I am. With a tremor in my voice and feeling as though I am about to step off a ledge, the first thing that falls out of my mouth is, "Okay, so I've decided I want to try it..."

****

Join the Five Minute Friday fun and link up your post at Kate Motaung's blog!

Five Minute Friday: Free

 Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

****

Maybe you're tired of me talking about it, but that's okay. I'm good with that. It's my experience and my passion and something I think more people need to talk about. Of course, I'm talking about mental illness and mental health. For this Five Minute Friday, I want to talk about something that is related and something that REALLY needs talking about. I'm going to try to do it in 5 minutes.

Self-injury.

Yeah, it's a kind of scary thing to say aloud. I'll be honest. It's not the easiest thing to talk about with regard to my own experience. So why talk about it today, with this prompt?

Because I'm free of it.


It's something that plagued me on and off from about late middle school through my early 30s. Then I went through an intensive outpatient mental health program and using the education I gleaned from that, the coping skills I learned, and the help of my therapist Pendragon (who helped me uncover the reasons why I did it), I broke free of the stranglehold this habit had on my life.

This August will make six years of freedom from self-injury. And I'm pretty stinking proud of that.

One thing freedom from self-injury isn't: easy. It takes incredible effort and it takes vigilance. Freedom also isn't being free from thoughts and temptations to self-injure. The freedom is in resisting those thoughts and temptations. Every time you resist, you get a little bit stronger. I've had some fierce temptations. I've come very close to losing the fight with those thoughts a few times, especially in the early days.

Eventually though, I got to a place where one year became two and then three and at some point, I realised that when I'm tempted, the part of me that has become stronger with resistance says, "It's not worth it to throw all this hard work away and have to start again at square one." And the part of me that's fighting yet another temptation says, "You know? You're right." And the temptation loses and I win another victory.

I am free from self-injury. If you are struggling with it, know that there is hope for you to find freedom too. If you need a friend to encourage you along the way, email me at the link in the sidebar. I promise I'll listen and be there. You can do it! You can be free too!

****

Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up at Kate Motaung's blog!

The Week in Rear View -- July 6-12, 2015

It's Sunday night, so it's time for a rapid fire little post that I'm going to call "The Week in Rear View" where I take a look back at the week and hit the highlights (and possibly lowlights). Ready? Here we go!

1. It was the week of trying to get my head back together. I returned from Boston on June 29th and felt like the weekend and the walk were all a-jumble in my head. I was struggling to process things emotionally and mentally and felt like I couldn't figure out where to begin. My session with Pendragon helped a tiny bit, but that one little hour the day after I got back just barely scratched the surface. This week, I dove into therapy and self-care head first. I had 2 sessions with Pendragon -- a marathon appointment (about 2.5 hours) on Tuesday, followed by a short phone call on Wednesday, and a second appointment Thursday. Friday morning, I met with my spiritual director Fr. B and received 3 of the 4 sacraments I'm allowed to receive multiple times, and followed that meeting with a very intense hour with just me and Jesus over in the main church. After so much talking and prayer (and a fair bit of extra sleep), I feel like things have been set more to rights and that my brain is finally clicking again and processing things that needed it.

2. The big girls and I managed to get through two chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone. We're reading it as a bedtime story and usually do a single chapter at a time. They are really getting into the story and keep wanting me to read another chapter once I've finished the one we're currently on. I enjoy it almost as much as they do. It's an exercise for my acting muscles as I like to not only read the text with enthusiasm, but with a different voice for each character. I'm particularly pleased with my Hermione and Hagrid voices.

3. Quite a bit of laundry got done this week by my beloved Gray. He has been slowly trying to go through the clothes and pack up the wrong season stuff, sort out the stuff that needs keeping but is too small for the big girls but too big for GB, and toss out the stuff that is stained/ripped/worn out beyond repair. It's quite a job, but he's made a lot of headway in it and I think a lot of that is due to the fact that he's been home a good bit this week -- see #1.

4. Friday, July 10th was the 2nd anniversary of my admission into inpatient care for depression. It's still very very hard for me to say that out loud (I usually resort to various euphemisms) and hard to type it as well. That day changed my life irrevocably due to the trauma that I experienced because of it. The anniversary this year wasn't as hard as it was last year (or as hard as I was expecting), but it wasn't without its difficulties. I met with Fr. B and afterward, spent over an hour before Jesus in the tabernacle (at Fr. B's parish) praying and crying and praying and crying some more. I snuggled a lot with my girls and Gray too.

5. I went out on a mini-date with each of my two big girls, M2 and AB. Neither outing was more than 30 minutes, but it was fun to ride along with each of them in the car, singing songs and talking and just being together one on one. Need to make an effort to do that more often.

So that's the quick roundup of my week! Thought I'd try a different spin on something I started trying to do a good while back. Hopefully, this is something I can get into a habit of doing. Y'all hold me accountable, okay?

The Other Man

Strip courtesy of peanuts.wikia.com.

Two people that I mention on a routine basis on this blog are my husband, Gray and my therapist, Pendragon. I've talked a lot about Gray's support and our story, but I haven't really talked much about Pendragon. I know some people might think it strange to go into much detail about their therapist, but he is an important person in my life and I wanted to share some of my thoughts about him.

In the last 2.5 years, I've seen him so frequently (due to the intensity of this episode of depression) that I have jokingly referred to him as "the other man in my life." Outside of Gray, he knows me better than almost anyone on the planet. It's very rare these days that I pull something out that totally surprises him. I've gotten to know a little bit about him too as he's shared different experiences he's had with similar things to give me a new perspective or encourage me that I'm not alone in something.

More Than Medication

In 2008, I was going through a particularly severe depressive episode, complete with self-injury. It began about 11 months after the birth of our second daughter, AB, but it wasn't until about 4 months later that I finally managed to make an appointment with a psychiatrist at a large psychiatric group near our apartment. I had gone off my antidepressants when I got pregnant with our eldest daughter, M2, but never got back on them postpartum because AB was conceived so soon after M2's birth. Gray suggested I might need meds again, so I made the appointment.

At the appointment with Dr. Alt, I gave him the basic history of my illness and waited for his assessment. He asked some questions about the current episode, looked back over his notes, and finally said in his pronounced German accent, "I am going to give you a prescription, but I think you would benefit from talking to someone."

My heart sank. I wasn't expecting that.

In retrospect, given that I was cutting myself and severely depressed, it was silly to think I could get away with just taking a prescription, but I didn't feel ready to talk about stuff. He continued, "So I'd like to set you up to see someone. Do you prefer a woman or a ma--”

"A man." The answer came flying out of my mouth before he'd even finished his question. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at his notes before addressing me again.

"Are you sure? You wouldn't prefer a woman?"

I shook my head and replied, "No, I wouldn't."

He continued, "The reason I ask is that in my experience, women are usually more comfortable talking to a woman."

I shook my head more firmly. "Not me. I would prefer a man, please."

He bent his head over my patient file, scribbled something down, and looked up again. "Well, in that case, I think I have just the person for you. I think you'll like him. His name is Pendragon." He made another note, then turned to look at something else on his desk. After a few moments consultation, he asked, "would next week be okay for an appointment with him?" I nodded mutely. After a bit of writing, he stood, handed me both a piece of paper bearing my new prescription and a larger one with instructions for the front office to make that appointment with Pendragon and with that, ended the appointment and ushered me out of the office.

The First Appointment

Time has a nasty habit of speeding up when you want it to crawl and the time between my visit with Dr. Alt and my first appointment with Pendragon flew by like a gust of wind. The day arrived and suddenly I found myself sitting in the parking lot, steeling myself to go inside. I finally got myself together, went in and checked in at the front desk. I sat down to wait. It must have been a few minutes, but it seemed like I'd barely sat down when I heard a pleasant sounding male voice call, "Therese?" I looked up and saw a rather tall, very young looking man holding a file folder and looking around. I stood up and we made eye contact. He repeated my name, "Therese?" I nodded quietly. "Hi, I'm Pendragon. It's nice to meet you."

I think I muttered something like "Nice to meet you too" but I can't be totally sure. My heart pounded nervously and I felt like I was barely breathing. He motioned toward the double doors that led back to the individual offices and invited me back. As we walked, I glanced at his face again and was struck by how very young he looked. Is he even old enough to be doing this? How old is he? As these thoughts went through my head, I suddenly realised that he was about six paces ahead of me. Dang, long legs! Hold up! Wow, he's tall!

I don't recall much of that first session. I do remember being surprised that he sat across from me rather than having a desk between us. I also recall that he didn't push me for details or pressure me to tell him anything more than I wanted to tell him. As a result, I didn't mention the self-injury or suicidal thoughts. I wasn't sure how he'd take it. My experience in the past had been very negative with doctors and therapists who just didn't understand self-injury and I'd only ever admitted suicidal thoughts to one other person. I wasn't sure if I could trust him with those darkest of secrets. Despite my reticence in that first session, I did find myself warming to him. He had a kind face, a relaxed approach, and my initial impression was that he wasn't judging me. At the end, we made an appointment for two weeks later. In retrospect, he must have sensed I was in more distress than I was letting on because as I was leaving, he told me that if I needed to talk before that appointment I could call during office hours, leave him a message, and he'd call me back. It was a small thing, but it made me feel a little less alone in my struggle. I decided in that moment that I thought I liked him and that this just might work out.

These Days...

Well, six years later, he still has a baby face (for real y'all, he looks like he's barely out of college), but I have since learned that he is, in fact, older than me by about 4 years. I've also learned more about him which has strengthened my ability to relate to him, be myself, and do the work of trying to recover and make positive changes in my life. These days I don't have to gallop to keep pace with his long legs, since he is now in private practice and the walk from his waiting area to his office door is only about four steps.

Because I trust him implicitly, I also, very rarely, hold anything back. He knows me well enough now though, that he can tell if I am. He still doesn't pressure me to say things I'm not ready to say, although he has perfected the art of helping me find a place where I feel able to say those things. In fact, there have been days when the depression has lain so heavy on me that my tongue was rendered silent and I couldn't bring myself to speak at all, but somehow, bit by bit, Pendragon has managed to help me find my voice and speak many difficult things aloud.

He doesn't judge me -- ever. No matter what kind of insanity falls out of my mouth or how much I sob and use half a box of tissues at one go. He doesn't care that the moment that I come in his office I kick off my sandals, tuck one foot underneath me, and plop down on his comfy sofa with all the grace of a paraplegic hippo. His office is a place where I feel safe and able to truly be my authentic self -- stripped of masks and defenses, totally honest, raw, vulnerable, and exactly who I am with all my good, bad, and in between. I've come in his office exhausted from too little sleep, in need of a shower, wearing clothes that were dirty, half out of my head from not eating for days, and so darkly depressed that I was silent as a tomb and have found deep concern, a lot of patience, and and a determined perseverance to help me find my way to a better place through self-care, coping skills, and changes in my thinking. I never feel like I'm under some kind of judgmental scrutiny.

Despite the lack of feeling scrutinized, Pendragon is keenly observant and is able to glean an awful lot about me and the kind of week I've been having before I've said the first word. I first noticed this two years ago when I had an appointment after one of the most traumatic days of my life. I know therapists are trained to be observant, but I think he is particularly so and it's very helpful as he has used those observations to point things out to me that I wasn't even aware of previous to that moment.

Lest you think that our sessions are all gloom and doom, we do laugh. In fact, there have been several moments where both of us were shaking with laughter. It's a darn good thing too, because the nature of mental illness is that you really need that kind of pressure valve to release tension and help ground you a bit. Pendragon also encourages me in the good things in my life like my marriage, my kids, and most importantly, my faith. He is, like me, a Christian (although not Catholic) and understands the vital role my faith plays in my life and in my mental health. His encouragement of the pursuit of my faith has been especially important as I've struggled mightily over the past 2 years with feeling connected to God and wanting to remain faithful in my walk with Him.

I am immensely grateful to God for bringing Pendragon into my life. To be honest, I do not have adequate words to express my gratitude. I am thankful for his listening ear, outsider perspective, professional expertise, and immeasurable amount of compassion, gentleness, and caring with which he has helped me through many a difficult situation and some of my darkest hours.

And so with that, I will wind this up and say "Thanks be to God for His merciful gift of a compassionate healer who helps me be just pensive enough to fight and slay my dragons."

Five Minute Friday: Favourite

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

****

This beats fast food burgers ANY day!

See that picture above? Yeah, I'm going to admit it. That's one of my favourite things to chow down on when I'm ridiculously hungry. I mean, it's a behemoth of a burger, so hunger is a good accessory to have when attempting it, right? Even hungry though, sometimes I can't finish it. Granted, the fries sitting beside it might be partially to blame. They are another favourite of mine. The place that makes this yummy burger and fries is one of our family's favourite places to go eat. It's pricier than McDonald's or Wendy's but the quality is SO much better and we get the good feelings that come from helping a local business and business owner stay afloat. The owner is a fantastic guy and has become a good friend. He's always helping out in the community and even takes canned food donations to donate to the local food pantry (and you get a free drink if you donate 2 cans -- neat, no?). He's also a fellow Catholic, so we talk faith a good bit when we go in there if he's around and not too busy. I'll be honest though. There have been times when I've gone to eat my favourite when it just didn't enthuse me at all. It wasn't that the recipe had changed or that the burger or fries were cooked differently.

It was all inside my head. I couldn't summon up any of the excitement or usual happy anticipation that comes along with a favourite food. I've had this happen with chocolate, ice cream, my favourite colour, favourite songs, favourite activities, favourite books and movies, etc. I've even had it happen with my fandoms -- and y'all know how I am about my fandoms.

It's one of the hallmarks of intense depression. In psychological terms, it's called anhedonia which means a loss of interest or pleasure in things that normally give a  person pleasure or interest them. It's when your favourite colour becomes blah and chocolate might as well taste like wallpaper paste. It's when you don't feel that familiar thrill of excitement when someone tells you that a new movie in your fandom is coming out soon.

In a word, anhedonia SUCKS. It really really sucks to have all the little joys of life fade away and it makes depression that much harder because one of the suggestions that is usually made to help alleviate the symptoms of depression is to focus on the little things and little joys of life. All those little favourites that normally help lift your spirits should be something that you can turn to when depression gets really black and miserable, but thanks to the nature of this beast, it's often hard to do that. 

So what do you do when your favourite this or that just isn't anymore?

First, you need to make sure you mention this loss of interest to your therapist. He or she needs to know this because it's a serious symptom. Not only that, but your therapist will likely have some ideas for helping you with it.

Second, try to engage with your favourite things anyway -- even if you look at them and the sight of them makes you want to scream swear words and hurl them across the room. I've been there and there have been days when I've engaged with them and days when I haven't. Hey, I didn't say it was easy. It's not. This is probably harder than talking to your therapist.

Third, be gentle with yourself if you don't manage to engage with your favourites anyway. Try to find new things that interest you if you can. If not, employ other self-care tactics until you're able to engage with your favourite things again. For example, my favourite colour is red. I have more red in my wardrobe (especially shirts) than I probably need. When my depression got very very bad at the beginning of this episode, the red disappeared because I couldn't look at it, much less wear it. It wasn't just red though. I tried to wear things that were other colours, but found myself repulsed and annoyed to the point that it was distracting and totally unhelpful, so I engaged in self-care. My self-care was to clothe myself in black from head to toe. That might seem an odd, counterintuitive sort of self-care thing, but it worked and it enabled me to focus more on treatment and life in general because it eliminated the frustration of everything feeling all wrong all the time. It's been almost 2.5 years since this episode began and the red went away and I still cannot wear it (or its derivatives like pink, magenta, etc.) much at all. I've branched out from the black some in the last 6 months and wear some blues, whites, greens, and dark purples, but little to almost zero red. I'm working on getting back to my favourite colour again, but I don't know when that will be -- and that's okay.

One final honest admission --- I've gone way over on my time limit for this week. Way over. Sorry Kate! I just got rolling and couldn't seem to stop. But this is all from the heart and it's where I am this week.

Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up your post at Kate Motaung's blog!

Update - June 24, 2015

Life has been moving along pretty quickly these days. I haven't been writing a whole lot, but I've been trying to keep up with the Five Minute Friday posts as often as possible (along with joining the #fmfparty on Twitter on Thursday nights!) and post the odd thing as I am inspired. To be perfectly honest, depression has been kicking my tuchus of late. The last week or so has been a bit better, but I've been in trip planning/packing mode so blogging has been lower on my list of priorities.

Trip, you ask? Why yes indeed!

I'm headed to Boston this weekend for the Out of the Darkness Overnight walk which raises funds for suicide prevention (<---- click the highlighted link to donate to my fundraising efforts). It's organized by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention and the funds raised go to support their programs which help educate people about suicide prevention, help those in crisis situations, advocate for better mental health care, and provide support programs for those who have lost a loved one as the result of suicide (those people are often called "suicide survivors" which is not to be confused with people who have survived a suicide attempt). They have a very ambitious, but I believe doable, goal of reducing suicide by 20% by the year 2025. Given that approximately 112 Americans die by suicide every day, that's saving just over 8,000 a year! What a huge difference that would make!

So to help achieve this goal, the AFSP does local walks and national walks. The walk in Boston is one of two national walks this year and will take place this Saturday night. It starts at dusk and you walk a distance of about 16-18 miles through the night and into the dawn of a new day. The journey is a symbolic one in that for those who struggle with suicidal thoughts, often the darkness seems to go on forever, but the reality is that the dawn does come if you hold on long enough. The reality is that the dawn is hope and there is hope for those who are struggling with the kind of intense mental illness that leads one to contemplate or attempt suicide.

For me, this is both a journey of solidarity and also a personal journey. If you've read much of my blog, you'll know that I am no stranger to depression and suicidal thinking. Both have been with me for many years and will likely be with me most of my life. For me, this walk is something I want to do to show support to others who struggle but also as a means of healing for myself. It is my hope -- and it makes me a bit nervous to use that word -- that this experience will help heal some old wounds and some more recent wounds and greatly diminish the struggle with suicidal thoughts that has plagued me so intensely for the last couple of years.

I'm not expecting a miraculous sort of healing to take place, but I know that these kinds of things do have the potential to cause certain things in us to shift, to get us thinking, and perhaps prompt us toward positive change. I know one change it has already wrought in me and that's that I feel a definite pull toward becoming more involved in mental health awareness and advocacy. I'm not sure where that's going to lead, but this walk is a good place to start, I think. During the walk, I am going to take lots of pictures and I'm going to try to blog some of those either during the walk itself or just before I crash post-walk, so be on the lookout for that!

For now, I need to start a load of laundry so that tomorrow I'll be ready to get my bag packed. Please say a prayer for me as I take this journey and pray for Gray too. He's going to be home with our three wild little women for the whole weekend while I do this. I know he's up to the task, but I also know how energetic and sometimes trying they can be.

Pax Christi,
TM

10 Things To Know About Depression (part 2)

<     1        2

(This is part two of my post on 10 Things To Know About Depression. Click above for part one.)

6. People struggling with depression who are also suicidal do not always need hospitalisation or a trip to the ER.

A common misconception with regard to suicidal thinking is that the person who is experiencing it is suddenly in need of super intensive intervention like a trip to the ER or being admitted inpatient. True, this is sometimes necessary, but most of the time, what a person struggling with suicidal thoughts needs is someone to listen to them and show that they care. If someone you know tells you that they are struggling with suicidal thoughts, the most beneficial thing you can do for them in most cases is stay with them (or find someone else to stay with them), listen to them and encourage them to keep talking. Let them know how loved, important, and needed they are, and remain with them until such time as these thoughts pass. The thing most people do not understand about actively suicidal thinking is that, for the most part, it encompasses a rather narrow window of time and if you can help a person find their way through that window to the other side, then you give them another day to live and love and fight this illness. 

Of course, there certainly are times when intensive intervention is necessary, but it MUST be done in a way that respects the person's dignity and humanity and doesn't make the situation worse. For more information on how to help someone who is suicidal, please read my post on Understanding More About Suicide.

10 Things To Know About Depression

There is a statistic that I have heard which states that 1 out of every 4 people has struggled with depression at some point in their life. It is a very common mental illness and as such, it is likely that someone in your life has struggled with it or is currently struggling with it. 

With that in mind, here are 10 things to know about depression:

1. Depression is no respecter of persons.

Depression strikes the old, young, rich, poor, fat, thin, those who are alone, those surrounded by loved ones, famous, unknown, every race, every religion (or lack of religion), and people of every conceivable creed. No one, by virtue of his/her status in life is necessarily immune from the possibility that they may suffer with this illness. Certainly, there are particular life situations which make depression less likely, but none are a guarantee.

FMF: Relief

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

Also, my friend Tara's FMF community intro video is at today's prompt page! Go check out her blog, Praying On the Prairie, and the video here! Love you, T!

****

Relief

I'll admit that this particular prompt really hits me where I live. I have been yearning for some serious relief from the onslaught of this depressive episode for a good two years. I have had little bits of relief here and there, but nothing lasting and nothing that seems to make a huge difference in things or a huge dent.

Update: Follow and Write

Do you ever find yourself wondering what on earth you were thinking when you made a particular decision? 

Maybe you are in the midst of planning something or in the thick of putting those plans into action and you hit a major snag that throws everything out of joint. 

Don't you hate it when this happens? Maybe snags in hosiery is why the bare legged look is more en vogue these days. I still like the look of pantyhose, but don't wear them except in certain very rare situations because they're hot!

Maybe everything is going along well, without a hitch, and suddenly life not only hands you lemons but starts throwing them at you and you realize that you've totally forgotten the recipe for lemonade.

Five Minute Friday: Plan

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

****

I've been planning this for a good year. It's not a wedding or the birth of a child. It's something altogether different. I suppose planning might be stretching it just a little bit. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that I've been discerning it for a year. I finally made my decision in February and I am so glad I did.

You see, I've been planning to take a walk.

It's a walk of 16-18 miles, done all during the night -- a walk through the darkness. In fact, it is called the Out of the Darkness Overnight walk. It's to raise funds for suicide prevention and awareness about this important cause. It's to give a voice to those who are struggling and to those who are grieving. It's to lend support and care to those who need it -- be they suicidal or bereaved over someone they have lost because of suicide. It is for my own healing.

You see, for me, the struggle is real. I've been to the edge. I've been afraid to ask for help. I've been afraid to admit how much I wanted to die. I've been afraid to admit that I was struggling with debilitating depression in the first place. It's not just a reality that i've struggled, but a recent reality -- like in the last two years. Over the course of the last two years I have been to this darkest of places many, many times. Thankfully, I have had the support of family, friends, and my therapist to bring me back to a place where death was not so much, to quote Hamlet, "a consummation devoutly to be wished."

David Tennant as Hamlet -- Go watch the famous soliloquy here. He is amazing.

So many sojourns through such a miry and dark place have left bruises, deep wounds, and even scars on my spirit that will take not only time, but action to heal. For me, part of that action is this walk and there is a part of this walk that I did not plan. When I go up to Boston and put my feet to the pavement in the middle of the night, I will be walking into the dawn of the 2nd anniversary of my own near suicide attempt. When I decided to do this, I knew the date was in June but never realized that it was exactly the same date. I think this was a God plan because there's no way I could have planned it.

Some are not so well supported.
Some are even more afraid than I.
Some who struggle don't know where to turn for help even if they get over their fears.

That is why I am planning to take this walk.

For those who have yet to break their silence. For those who need a helping hand. For me as I journey my own road of recovery.

So my plan is this -- to walk through the night and into the dawn of a new day.
-- to continue to raise funds for my participation in this walk
(please click the previous sentence if you'd like to donate -- any amount is so helpful and so very appreciated!)
-- to do my utmost to get stronger through activities like this walk alongside my therapy and other resources

-- to do my part to help others help themselves.

Join the Five Minute Friday fun and link up your post at Kate Motaung's blog!

Breaking My Silence

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you may have noticed that one of the things I speak about most frequently - outside of the three Fs (faith, family, and fandoms) -- is my struggle with major depressive disorder. I'm sure there are some who read my words about this and wonder why on earth I would be so candid and open. I am certain that some of you who read this blog regularly may even find yourself squirming a little with discomfort when you see the words "depression" or "suicide" cross your screen.

Can I tell you something about that? It's okay. It's totally okay that you feel that way -- for now. 

Eventually, I'd like you and everyone else to get to a place where those words are less disturbing and are instead a cause for you to stop and listen with concern -- not just to my words but to anyone who might need to speak those words aloud.

I'll be honest. I've only just gotten to a place where those words no longer make me cringe and flinch. Even as easy as it's become for me to write about those things, I'll admit that there are still times when it is a little hard to say them out loud and face to face. But I do it anyway.

Why do I keep talking about this? Quite simply, because it's necessary.

Because silence, in the face of mental illness is no longer an option for me.

I have been silent for over 25 years about my struggle and about the role of mental illness in shaping the person I am today. I have been silent about my struggles with depression, PTSD, self-injury, and suicidal thinking. I have been silent out of fear of what others might think of me or how they might treat me if they ever found out. I have hid my secret from friends, neighbours, and close family. I have struggled with being totally honest with my husband, my therapist, and my dear friends who have supported me for fear of being rejected outright or having someone I love and respect give up on me.

Part of this struggle has come from having had some bad experiences with sharing my struggles. I had a therapist who violated my trust, a friend who got angry, a neighbour who immediately laid hands on me (in a charismatic prayer way), family and friends who acted embarrassed that I'd shared with them, and some family who suddenly became possessed by a desire to be overly supportive. On the flip side of this, I've had a therapist (Pendragon) who has supported me and helped me immensely, friends who have listened compassionately and not judged, numerous friends (and family) who have prayed for me when I've asked (and without my asking), and last but not least, my sweet husband Gray who has loved me and supported me without hesitation for as long as I've known him. 

So with such different responses, why continue to speak out and expose myself to possible judgement, betrayal, or anger?

Because silence helps no one.

Silence doesn't help increase awareness or education.
Silence keeps depression and other mental illness in the shadows.
Silence ensures that those who are struggling in the throes of suicidal thinking remain fearful of reaching out for help at a critical moment.
Silence perpetuates the stigmas surrounding mental illness in all its many forms.
Silence is an enemy to my own healing.
Silence begets more silence, more suffering and encourages others to suffer silently.
Silence is, in its own way, an agreement with the stigmas, misunderstandings, and confusion that surround mental illness and suicide.

So I refuse to be silent.

I will continue to speak out. I will speak through my own discomfort at times. I will continue to take risks in speaking to people one on one about my experiences with mental illness and suicide. I will continue to educate, answer questions, and advocate for better care, less stigma and a tomorrow where those who suffer do not feel the need to suffer in silence.

When Gray and I were just getting started in our relationship, he shared one of his favourite sci-fi/fantasy book series with me and in that series of books, I found one of my favourite quotes about sharing our struggles:

For my fellow book nerds, this quote is from Callahan's Crosstime Saloon by Spider Robinson. It is the first of a whole series of books featuring a barman named Mike Callahan and the very unique folks who show up at his bar, Callahan's Place. If you need a fun read and like stuff that is a little different from your average sci-fi/fantasy book, I highly recommend reading this book and its sequels.

Now I'm going to ask something of you.

If you've read this, would you please comment below and then share this post somewhere else online? You can share it on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, your own blog, via email, or wherever you like.

I know it's a little scary to think about doing something so vulnerable and open, but let me do the heavy lifting. Just share this post. You don't have to say why. The point is to share it to break the silence.

I believe it is important to keep this idea going. I'd like more people to feel free to share their stories and know that it's okay. I'm here. I'll read your story if you want to share it with me -- here in the comments or via email. I promise I'll reply. Maybe in all this sharing, we'll find a way to lessen the pain of mental illness and increase joy for everyone.

Will you help me?