Anxiety and Depression. My Story, My Finest Hour.

My story today begins with this video.  





This video moved me.  So much so that I thought I have to blog again after months of silence.  I must add my voice here.

I tend to be a strangely positive person.  That is to say I feel like I am, in general, a realist, or a negative person; but for some strange reason I am positive (foolishly so) when it comes to people and human nature.   My descent into deep depression happened gradually.  One trauma on top of another added to traumatic childhood events and a life full of commitments and stresses became too much for me to bear any longer.  Having to be too strong for too long was definitely the case.  I held on as long as I could, but in the end depression won.  It wasn't pretty.  

"We did not ask for this, but together we can fight this"  
                                                 ~Faris Khalifa

Being a reader, I searched high and low for answers to 'solve' this new dilemma.  How do I get back to being 'right' again.  Being 'me' again?  In the process I found information.  I found people who struggle as I do- lots of them.  And I joined a few groups to help support me in my new way of being. Trying to find new ways of coping with my present reality.  

 A lot of what I find online these days talks about stigma.  The stigma of mental illness.  Here's where the strange positivity comes in.  Stigma?  What stigma?  I often thought.  See I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.  

Over this past few weeks I've been interacting with people more.  People who don't know me and my challenges.  Some strangers, some new found friends.  And I've discovered that yes, stigma still exists.  I guess it's always been my sincere hope that people will try to understand others, even if they be strangers.   Try to understand that even though they cannot possibly 'understand' everyone's behaviors and motivations that they too would recognize that most of us are really just trying to do the best we can. 

Then I saw this video.  

The courage of this man astounds me.  Putting himself out there in such a vulnerable way to try to help.  To try to stop the stigma.  I realized I had to add my voice.

This video was painful for me to watch.  I know where he's coming from.  I know that dark place all too well,

"This is not for me....  But for those not as fortunate.   Those who feel like they don't have a voice."
                                                                         ~Faris Khalifa

Lately I've heard opinions expressed about people with mental illness that at first I was tempted to accept.  "After all the one expressing it is a doctor", I thought.   But something wasn't sitting well with me.  I heard things such as "People need an identity, they NEED to be special in some way".  "They wear these diagnoses like a badge".  and "I think what's behind depression is self-pity."

Over the past week I've had some very rough moments.  Moments I thought I might not make it through.  Moments I realized that yes I am much better now than I was- my current holistic treatments are working wonders,  But maybe I will have moments such as these for the rest of my life.  Moments that are too dark to describe.  Moments I think I wont survive, I don't want to survive.  And in those moments it broke my heart to think about what others had said about people with mental illnesses.   Stigma is still alive and well, even among health care professionals.  And this is why I have chosen now to speak up.

 I was diagnosed with a Major Depressive Disorder, PTSD, PMDD (Pre-menstrual Dismorphic Disorder), Body Dismorphic Disorder, Adult ADD and have general Anxiety as well. I have been medicated for all of the above and am still on some meds to this day.   It is not a fact I go around sharing- even though at times it does seriously color my outlook and my life.  And at times I do wish people knew because I feel their confusion at my behavior.  It is not something I am proud of, or would choose to have to deal with.  Honestly it sucks!  And at times sucks the life right out of me.  I am able to appear ok in most circumstances.  And my whole life I have been able to hide my true feelings well.  But it is my diagnosis and something I have to consider everyday.  

The thing about opinions is everyone has one.  And that's ok.  But opinions are just that.  Opinions.  We all have our own based on our perceptions, and our experiences.  Perceptions  are that way as well;  no two people perceive things the same.  We each have our own reality and outlook.  The more I thought of those opinions expressed earlier in the week, the more upset I got.  I wondered what were their opinions based on?  Have they ever had the experience of being abused, physically, verbally or sexually?   Have they ever been in war?  Have they experienced neglect, trauma or broken homes?  Have they had the misfortune of  being homeless?  Or a combination of these things as many people have?   And how can they, having not experienced the full range of things one can experience in this life, make these statements about Depression, Bi-polar,  Anxiety or any disorder or dis-ease really?  In my opinion it is the height of arrogance to make judgements based on what we ourselves, personally know.  We have not experienced what others might have.  We each have our own journey. 

And here's something else to consider.  Why is it that these illnesses seem to be rampant?  What is going on in our society, in our world that has made life so hard to bear for some of us?  Isn't that a better question?  What can we do to help?  

This Stigma is unwarranted.  These mental health issues come from somewhere.  No one chooses them.  No one wants to be 'special' like that!  What about other expressions of disease?  Do we stigmatize cancer patients, or people with heart conditions?  If someone is on Blood pressure meds do we theorize that they wanted this outcome?  That they go around wearing their  diagnoses of Lupus, or Thyroid problems like a badge?  To garner sympathy?  We don't. 

 That would be cruel.  

Welcome to my Wonderland

So here's the thing I'm learning about truth.  People don't like it.  I must have inherently known this all along, and that is why I wouldn't couldn't speak my truth.  I am a people pleaser.  If there is something someone wouldn't like in the past I would just suck it up and deal with it myself. And for some reason I am really good at reading what others would not like.  That is however changing.  More out of necessity than anything else, and here's why:    

Arthur Rackham [Public domain],
via Wikimedia Commons

The truth is that most of the time, maybe, no not maybe-- most of my life I have wished I was someone else.  At this very moment.  I wish I was different.

I guess I have never felt good enough for anything.  Or good enough at anything.  I have no degrees, no skill sets, not even any interests at this point other than staying in bed and hiding under my covers.  I am trying to change that.  That is not how I want to spend my life or at least I don't think it is.  I know it's not a wise thing to do.  But the options?  Drag myself out of bed, put on my mask and get all ready to go out into public and appear 'normal'.  Yeah, sounds like fun, right?  Until I get out there and there is too much stress, too much input (HSP, remember?) and not enough down time for me.

John Tenniel [Public domain],
via Wikimedia Commons

I used to think I was a pretty decent mom.  I have well adjusted children and a husband who says he's happy.  I have had friends who have come and gone.  Most of my life I get the feeling no one has ever really understood me.  Heck I don't even understand me.  I tried to get along.  To be kind and loving when I could. Tried to do right by those in my life at the time. But in the end between all the denying my own feelings, and needs and various traumas that have plagued me even in my adult life I have found that I just can't do it anymore.  Any of it.  I used to say "at some point self-preservation kicks in".  It's an automatic thing.  We are programmed to survive.  Even when it's difficult.  Even when the easiest most pain-free thing to do would be to just give up, roll over and die our nature is to survive. That's the place I find myself in most days.  I want to get up, put on the mask and the costume, pretend I'm fine and go on, but my self preservation keeps me from doing that.  Then I feel that those who love me are disappointed, and saddened that I just won't do it.  They don't understand that I literally can not.  I try to explain,  but I understand it is a difficult thing to comprehend. Especially for children.  I just won't cooperate and don't fit into their perfect little worldviews.  This is difficult for me.  I would love nothing more than to be able to go on pretending until all of my kids are grown.

John Tenniel [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or
 CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)],
 via Wikimedia Commons

Then the guilt kicks in.  I have spent the majority of my life feeling guilty for everything.  For anything and everything.  I am an expert at pinning things on myself.  I would make a killer prosecuting attorney if I was the accused.  I'd have the case wrapped up in no time and be off to do the time for it.  Where this all comes from I have no idea.  I have tried many ways to change my thinking.  Change my outlook.  Change anything I could think of to make this all go away.  I mean, I'm only hurting myself in all this.  But it's where I am at.  I cannot seem to change it overnight like I'd love to.  I have spent decades trying to find the answers.  At times I fear the answers just do not exist.  Some things we just will never understand.

Where does this leave me?  I have no idea.  I have no illusions of knowing anything anymore.  It's all I can do to take life one minute at a time and try to do the best I can with that.  That's all I can do.  Welcome to my Wonderland.  Where "nothing is what it is because everything is what it isn't.  And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be.  And what it wouldn't be, it would.  You see?"

Hello Again

Hello again from my geenie's lamp.  I have a funny story to tell you about this past year that I have not been blogging and a new lesson learned.  It only took me a year to learn it.

Ha!  This is my minds answer to my requests...  

I went into 2013 with my new resolution being to "Speak My Truth".  Funny because I have not said a thing all year.  Not funny because that is what I was trying to overcome.

I have learned a few things this year.  About myself, about life, about truth.  I have for a long time said that I am a lover of truth.  I have searched for it my whole life.  The absolute truth.  At the same time I came to realize over this past year that the truth scares me to death!  And when faced with the truth I tend to clam up. Not to mention that when I try to make myself do something, or think something my mind simply refuses to cooperate.  Like a teeny child having a tantrum, my mind will do all it can to avoid doing what I ask of it.  So I have learned first of all that I need to use reverse psychology on myself.  Sounds crazy, I know, but truthfully aren't we all a little 'crazy' sometimes?

So I started the year with the intention to 'speak my truth' and honestly I failed miserably.  Sounds like an easy thing, right?  Well let me tell you it proved to be a lot more challenging than I ever imagined.  Half way through the year I found myself writing in my art journal " The Truth is I am not a liar, I simply cannot tell the truth."  It made me laugh to realize that, even though it is not at all funny.  My mind works that way, it's quite humorous.


 I have found a lot of answers in that method.  I sit down and write "The truth is________" and see what it gets me.  It's a scary thing, try it sometime.

My art journal tends to be a chronicle of my life and all I am learning day to day.  And I am surprised at how much I learn, and how much there still is to learn.  It blows my mind when I remember all the things I used to 'know' and finding out daily all the things I really don't know.  In fact there are many things that I am convinced one just cannot ever truly know.  That's a scary thought to me,  being one who needs to feel in control of everything.  The truth is I control nothing.  I really know nothing, despite all my efforts to learn.  Some things are just too big for my comprehension.  And that's ok.



I used to think I needed to KNOW everything.  Beyond the shadow of a doubt.  To know the right answers to all the questions.  And that would make me legitimate.  A legitimate __________.  But over the last decade I have learned that life is not that simple.  And no one can ever know anything fully.  Sure there are experts in all kinds of fields, but does that mean they know everything?  I used to think so.  And that made them 'acceptable', it gave them credentials.   The problem is that also made me a 'fraud'.  The truth is I don't know everything about anything, and honestly I don't think I ever can.  Life is just too big and too much of a mystery to fit it all into my little brain.  Especially with all the other millions of things I need to know like school schedules, doctors appointments, social security numbers, the list is endless.  And add a husband and kids into that mix and the list truly does become endless.

Someone once told me "Jack of all trades, master of none".  That little blurb has stayed in my mind my whole life and crippled me really.  If I cannot master things then I have no credibility, right?  Because there are masters of everything these days.  What is a master?  Someone who has dedicated themselves, their time, their energy to learning all they can about a particular subject of their choosing.  Where does that leave me?  Mom of 6 kids just trying to make it through a day without permanently harming anyone?  Jacked that's where.  To have such a high standard for myself is only hurting me.  I suppose the truth is I could choose to be a master of something, if I really wanted to.  But clearly I don't.  I have chosen a husband, six kids, friends, various pets,, respect for the earth and all it's inhabitants and all the commitments that come along with that.  The truth is I simply have no time left to dedicate right now to mastering something else. Now that is not to say that we don't work hard at things, and try to be exceptional at them.  I think we all want that, right?  But it does help me to see that my expectation of perfection is all in my mind.  And I'm done with that.



I had a new friend look me up online and encourage me in my art.  Honestly this year I have been struggling with the question "Art. Does it really matter?"   and  more specifically "Does mine matter?"  The world is full of artists and dreamers.  Many of them better than me.  Why add my voice to that? It was the same when I was a singer.  Someone once told me "singers are a dime a dozen"- so my thought was 'then why would my voice matter?'.

The answer to these questions is still formulating in my mind.  And most likely is too long to write here and now.  One day hopefully I will have an answer to that question...

It would really help me realize that an art degree and mastery of all things art related are not a necessity in my life right now...


 maybe when Lucha Pigs fly...  

Camping at the Point

For Mothers Day my crew took me camping at the beach.  My favorite place on earth to be.

The minute we dropped anchor Sobe our ship hound
made herself nice and comfortable.  This seems
to be her favorite spot on the ship, my pillows.

 We decided after our last camping trip to go again, once a month, at least through the summer.  To that end we have been working furiously on The Pearl getting her all prettied up and comfortable for our large family to relax in when we want to.

I finally got around to taking some new pics of her gussied up interior.  With each project she becomes more and more comfortable to relax in.

 

  

 I left the books at home and took my needlepoint with me this time.  Thinking there might be some down time to sit and work on it.

The nightstand

 

I did have some extra reading material in my magazine rack just in case.




Here is the finished french memo board.   Guess I should have made a bigger one to fit all the pictures I'd love to have with me.  Some are missing from this picture.

 This is what we ended up temporarily doing with the front end.  We need to get as much sleeping area as we can for all the female crew members.

 
 There is still much to be done.   You can imagine my list I think.   But for now she's comfortable and cozy feeling, and a very special place to relax.

 Before we set sail for Doheny point our parish priest, Father Joseph Corrigan bestowed a blessing on her.  The seas can be rough, and you never know what dangers one will encounter while upon them.

"Oh man, now that's a blessed bee"  one of the wee crew
members remarked.

We dropped anchor at Doheny State Beach.  The campsites are teeny, but beach front property is in high demand so you get what you get.  

Everyone who passed smiled, and pointed.  Some stopped to tell us how cute the Pearl is or how they loved our campsite setup.  One lady seemed to be waiting for an invitation to breakfast she stayed so long chatting about The Pearl and how it reminded her of past times.  We get a lot of that.  People reminiscing.  Plenty of people miss 'the good old days'.

The funniest comment this time around was the guy in the Land Yacht (The' Behemouth' I call them) who came over as we were packing up and told my husband how he liked our campers 'retro look'.   

Being a '58 she came by it honestly...

That made me smile.

11 Ways

I found this graphic interesting.  I just recently learned how men and women express depression differently.  With men it can be really hard to tell they are depressed.  And who even knew they too could suffer from Post Partum Depression...

If you are depressed, or know someone who is please get help.  Depression can and does kill.  There is hope...

Here is the link to the above graphic if you cannot see it well enough

Something touched me...

I am hoping this does not come off as preachy.  I often wonder if I sound that way.   I hope not.  I think I am a genuinely caring person, who wants to see the good for everyone in this world.  We are all stuck here, together, wouldn't it be nice if we could all get along?  If we could help one another.  Make things just a little brighter for everyone?

These are the things I think about regularly.  The earth, and all it's concerns: pollution, greedy people scarring her, being taken for granted.  Animals:  they cannot speak for themselves, and deserve love and respect just like the rest of us hope for.  People:  All the hurting people, suffering people, grieving people, the homeless, the list goes on and on.  (not necessarily in that order)

A friend of mine posted this video on facebook and I took the time to look at it.  She said it was a very short video that will have a big impact.  I think this is an important message, and would love for everyone to see it, and remember it.  Here it is...

I realize that this is a commercial.  But I think the message here is very real.  It's a message I have hoped to spread for years.  I am one of those who has a story that people generally can't see on the outside. There have been times I've felt that no one noticed, and I wondered if anyone even cared.  

As TWLOHA says though, Love can change a life.  I know.  It has changed mine. 

 

I am seriously blessed to be surrounded by loving, caring people now, who know me and still want to be there.  But it wasn't always that way.  I have felt very alone even in a crowd of people.  I have grieved and no one noticed.  I have cried in the shower, or in my car, or in my bed because I couldn't share what was going on inside with anyone.  This post is not to cause anyone to feel bad.  But to think.  And then to act.  

It can be such a simple thing really.  Like looking someone in the eye and answering them when they ask how you're doing today, as they man the counter wherever you are.  Or not getting upset with the clerk who is screwing everything up, and seems she shouldn't be working there.  Maybe she's having a bad day, maybe her dog died, maybe.... who knows.  It could be any number of things.  Or how about patiently waiting while someone on the phone helps you with your problem, and they don't seem to be getting it...  Opening the door for the elderly lady walking behind you.  Smiling at a passerby and saying hello.  Listening when someone is trying to talk to you.  Hearing what they are saying.  

One of the things that has changed my life is finding help in recovery groups.  Groups like Alcoholics Anonymous, Adult Children of Alcoholics, Codependents Anonymous, Ala Teen, Overeaters Anonymous, there are even more.   The other major thing is self-love.  I know, it's not always easy.  I have been there.  Life is hard.  Sometimes we feel we have no one who understands.  It is at those times that we most need the friendly gestures of strangers.  To give us just a little bit of hope.  Consider this:  that simple kind act you just did for someone could be the lifeline they needed thrown to them as they were drowning...  

Art Journaling 101

Have you ever wanted to try art journaling?  Or thought about keeping any kind of a journal regularly?  It can be overwhelming to think about sitting down and carving out any amount of time to write.  Especially if you are not fond of writing.  

I began looking into Art Journaling in the beginning of 2010.  At the time I was a wreck, and needed to change. I was seriously depressed and couldn't figure out where to start making so many changes.   It all looked like a lot of work ahead of me.  Hard work.  Emotional work.  Inner Child work.  Therapy.  The only thing I was sure of at that time was that I longed for a creative outlet.  Music, art, childs play, these were what I knew somewhere deep inside that I needed.  

Enter Art Journaling.  I have always been a journaler in the traditional sense, but with the addition of each child into our family my time was growing shorter and shorter;  and honestly at the end of a long day I was too tired to want to write about anything.  But I did long to draw, to paint, to express myself in some way regularly, honestly and beautifully.






When I first discovered art journaling I did what I do- looked to every resource I could think of to figure this out.  What was it?  Could I do it??  How much time was required??  What did I need to get started?  Some of my favorite resources are the internet, especially Youtube, and the library.  I love the public library.  They have a wealth of resources I can borrow, for free and I don't have to find the space for yet another book.  It will be there when I need it again.  I love that!  Less is more you know?

This was done in my collage class while I was
 taking notes

What I discovered was a form of journaling that I could actually fit into my lifestyle, with whatever materials I have on hand, and a little creativity.  So here it is in a nutshell.  I will blog more about this later, and include pictures of pages I'm working on to give you some inspiration.



The pictures included here are from my first art journal, so you can see what I'm talking about.

The first thing needed is some sort of journal.  Depending on what you are going to do in it, this could be just about anything.  I prefer the Canson Mixed Media XL sketchbooks.  They are spiral bound which I like since I like to work on a flat surface.   Another plus is that the pages hold up to any kind of medium and I tend to use a lot of paint, and watercolors.  However I have seen art journals done on everything  from beautiful handmade books to simple composition books, the kind kids use in school.  Some are small, and some are very large. 

When I first started I just grabbed an old sketchbook I had on hand for some time and started there, because it was what I had.  As I went on I discovered that I would like more space on the page, so I switched to a larger book.  

Add caption

Some days were good days

some were not

A blank page can be a little unnerving to most of us, so I recommend beginning by putting down something quickly, without too much thinking about it is usually best.







Try gluing in some pretty paper scraps and making a collage, or a bit of paint or watercolor, a page from an old book, anything can be a jumping off point.  Then the sky is really the limit.





Paint a picture, draw a face, sketch something from your day, create a line drawing, graffiti, anything goes.  Write some poetry across the page and add some bits and pieces of daily life- receipts, pieces of candy wrapper, the handwritten note your child gave you today.  Anything.  It's really that easy.

Some I just recorded concepts or things I was
 thinking about or feeling.

I carry a sketchbook with me wherever I go- but it is my art journal.  Some people choose to use theirs only for art journaling.  Some record their whole lives in them.

sometimes a simple image represented what I
wanted to say

Keep it simple, or make it amazingly intricate, it is completely up to you.  And know that this is yours.  For you and your enjoyment only (unless you want to share what you've done).

There were days I had ideas to begin with

and days I just doodled

these are leaves from a tree I found while walking

Of course this is not all of the pages in that first Art Journal- only the ones I was willing to share.  Some had some of my deepest darkest thoughts recorded on them...

Looking back now I am so glad I started.  There are many memories and lessons learned in there that I probably would have forgotten.

I kept lists

That's what I found appealing at first.  I could paint, draw, and make ugly pages to my hearts content and no one had to know.  My book was for me.  For my enjoyment only. This was what came straight from my heart.

I took notes in class

I even occasionally did assignments in there. 

As you can see there are many, many different ways of doing this.  Check out some of my favorite Youtube teachers for more inspiration.  They are Suzi Blu and The One Minute Muse.  The One Minute Muse has some really simple ideas that can be accomplished quickly, without a lot of prep.  There are also many images on flickr that people have uploaded of their art journals.


I hope this has been helpful and encouragement to start your own Art Journal.  Art heals.  It is good for the soul.  Give it a try and let me know how it goes.
  

Beauty

Tonight I found some beauty.  In fact I was privileged to sit in a room full of beautiful women, all there hoping to find some grace.  It was wonderful.  I am cynical of meeting new people to say the least, and seriously debated staying home and 'holing up' as I prefer to do.  But I mustered the courage and went.  I am so glad I did.

I met a wonderful woman tonight.  Her name is Wendy Joy Hart.  I found her through Meetup.com.  Going into this I thought surely this woman is selling something, or pushing something.  The last meetup group I joined was more of a way of drumming up business for the woman who led it than a meetup group.  I promptly quit that group.  But this one was so different.  I left feeling better, lighter, and happier than I've felt in years.  I learned a whole lot of new things, and hopefully made some new friends.   Beautiful friends.

Driving home I was struck by the fact that I was in a room full of beauty and could easily, very easily, have missed it.  These are the moments, the light I need to retrain my eye to see.  My memory to hold.  I had pictured this being a scary thing.  Me and all my baggage.  My deep deep shame and shyness to boot.  But whenever I am in a group of women who are real and honest I find that we all have baggage, and shame.  If we can just be real for a moment we find that none of us wants to be left out or judged.  We are all looking for love and a little acceptance.  That is my motto as you know choose love.  On my way to the group I kept telling myself, it'll be ok, just choose love.  It was exactly where I was supposed to be tonight, and I almost robbed myself of the opportunity.

Monday monday

It's been one of those weekends, you know the kind of weekend you should be cleaning, or at least doing something productive, since you'll have a house full of people next weekend and the 6 kids, pets and farm animals are a lot to keep up after... but instead curled up in a ball and slept the panic off...  sometimes it's all I can do.

oh well...    the Harpie is back...

Don't know who let her out??  I had her silenced for a while...

Just thought I'd give you a little glimpse into my Art Journal of late.  A picture is worth a thousand words, right?? 

 It's all I have to say right now...

Love is the Movement

Life is not a fairytale.  There is no 'happily ever after' I'm learning.  I have learned this, the hard way.  There are always ups and downs.  Sometimes there are even bottom places where we land and have to look for help.  For me words help, art helps, music helps. I think these are true for a lot of people.

I think I have always known the struggle and the pain with which many suffer.  I thought it was just that I was a melancholy person.  I tried everything I could think of to get out of the pit I was in. Looking for help out from a bottom place once I stumbled upon Renee's story.  Her story touched me so deeply. This was the first time I'd heard of such love. From mere mortals. I was convinced this did not exist.   To Write Love On Her Arms is a group, or a movement I found one day graffitied on a college bench where I sat with my son and a friend from Art class- The name intrigued me and I had to know what it meant.  To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide.   I read Renee's story and was so moved by it, by the fact that there were such loving, caring people out there.   People who would give everything to help a total stranger who was suffering.  It touched me so much I had Love tattooed on my arm by a great guy named Turbo at Goodfellas tattoo.  A daily reminder that there is hope, there is love, there are people who care, and I am not alone.

This is a group that has been very near and dear to my heart.  A cause I gladly support.  There are many people in this world suffering with depression and loneliness.  It breaks my heart to hear of children taking their own lives because they had reached their end, and felt there was no hope.  I know that place well.

I'm not sure what inspired me to write about this, this day.  I can only imagine someone needed to read this.  If you are suffering I am here.  You are not alone.  I have found that love helps, and caring friends help.  I know they are hard to come by.  But this group reminds me that they do exist.

photo credit ©2009-2010 ~Siluriformes

Please love.  There is enough pain in this world.  Here is one of my all time favorite quotes



"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."
Philo

and be kind to you.  It's a tough lesson to learn sometimes, but a necessary one.  It all starts with love.











Love is the Movement!