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.  

Life is pain highness....

Life is pain.

There is just no way around it.  I'm not sure it's as painful for some, as for others, but we must all have our share of heartaches.

My lamp has moved.  Did I mention that?  Right now I sit here in someone else's bed, in someone else's house crying my eyes out.  I am missing my firstborn who moved out just as we were moving.  To another state!  Everytime I see him, or hear his voice I flood the earth with my tears and feel as though my heart will burst open.

I hate crying.

I hate pain.

It makes me wonder about life.  If life is in fact pain can I bear it much longer?  I'm not so sure.  I have cried a lifetime of tears already, and there are many, many more to come.  Who can be positive in the face of such facts?  Clearly not I.

I'm trying so hard to change my thinking, and be a more positive person, less realist.  But when I hurt how can I be positive?  It's just not me.  And I have hurt my whole life.  The pain just never seems to end.  It did let up for a while but then traumatic events occurred that make me wonder, does it ever really end?  I'm afraid it does not.   And I think that scares me more than anything else.

this is my message to the universe...  please. help. me

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?"

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...  

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!

When the darkness closes in

So you know the saying "Art imitates Life".  Well, if you've seen my latest WIP or any of my facebook statuses you know where my state of mind has been.  I try hard to fight off the darkness.  But sometimes it just is.  And it feels like it's closing in.  

I have many fewer dark days than I did just a couple of years ago.  Of course when one is grieving every day feels like a dark day.  Now, after some time has passed they seem to come and go.  I try to remain calm and realize it is just a day, it will be over soon.  And be gentle with myself, not expecting too much.  It's on these days that creating really helps.  I think it helps me focus and stay calm.  Sometimes I paint.  Sometimes I am moved to write something.  Yesterday I did not feel like painting, or writing, drawing, or doing much of anything.  So I sat at my desk in my studio.  Sometimes I just sit and stare for hours.  Thinking...  I guess it ends up being a sort of meditation for me.  And after a while I worked on her.  


It is hard for me to show hope in the darkness.  I struggle with seeing it myself.  It's an interesting world we live in, if you think about it.  I saw this quote recently on the To Write Love On Her Arms facebook page.  It read ‎"We are artisans. We can sculpt our existence into something beautiful, or debase it into ugliness. It's in our hands." – Cathy Better   I often wonder if this is true.  If it is the responsibility rests solely with ourselves doesn't it?  Does everything come down to a choice?  I learned recently that most of our lives do.  I had no idea.  


So today I remind myself, and you, to be calm.  The choice is up to you.  I choose me.  I choose love.