Overcoming depressive thinking….

I love playing in the ocean, and bodysurfing small waves.  I remember being a little kid and catching a huge wave that seemed to somersault me endlessly, before I was released on the shore.  When I watch big wave surfers, sometimes they get tossed off their surfboard by an unruly wave, only to catch a breath of air and get pummelled again. That's what depression feels like to me.

But I guess I have a choice in how I handle things don't I?

I can look at my life and lament, why does my mind send me sh*t waves? I wish that I was more like so and so…they're so uncomplicated and happy. 

I do that a lot, I wish I didn't have depressive thinking.

I also get stuck I'm my head a whole lot.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a victim and it's all to much, and nothing helps.

Well I'm at the point now where I can either say to myself, I'm sick of fighting, I'm not really improving, why don't I let my brain obsess about how bad I feel, and spiral downwards. I don't think normal people have any idea how scary and real this phenomenon can be and how convincing depression can be, it makes it seem like I don't have any other option.

I didn't ask for this, keep calm and carry on.

Today I feel like I'm definitely aways from the shore of sanity and good mental health, inspite of  my best attempts.

That being said, at times like these, I have to do the thing I find the hardest, find acceptance that I struggle with depression to varying degrees. The key is to have compassion for myself and respect for the strength and perseverance that it takes to manage this condition.  I didn't ask for this, and I'm doing the best I can at any given moment.

I need to notice it, and remove any judgement, and negative prophesizing about the outcome of my lower mood. 9 times of of 10 if I don't get dragged into the stories my mind creates or worry about how many DSM symptoms I'm experiencing, life goes back to normal.

I find reframing things helps.  So tonight I'm going to say to myself,

Everyone has bad days, that doesn't mean they get clinically depressed.

Arguing with your spouse is draining and does effect your mood.

Having serious engine problems with a truck from the auction sucks.

YOu got up at 5:45 am instead of 7:45, its normal to be tired.

And then remind myself of everything I'm doing well in life.  I t can be as simple as, I helped my fiancé get his truck. I went for a walk, I blogged it up! And then actually realize that's awesome given how I feel.

Tonight, I plan to get active, I decide ok, these feelings are not a deal breaker and I'm going to make dinner and go for a walk and not think about my mood for awhile. I  just notice its there in the background, and have some compassion or curiosity about how to improve things.

Oh ya and most importantly, I do my best with whatever tools I can muster up at the given moment that depression feels overwhelming, and ask my higher power to take the struggle from me.  I try to turn it over repeatedly to the God of my understanding.  I pray, "Please help me with this, I'm going the best I can and I still feel overwhelmed.  One of the hardest things is believing I've been heard and allowing God to take the struggle away so that I can feel some peace in the situation.  WE don't always get 100% instant relief, but I believe there is power in letting go of my attachment to the struggle.

Well I hope this helps and that I get thrown out of this wave I'm in and land on the shore.  Good luck everyone with your own challenges.

Jesus doesn't have to be your higher power, but he is pretty epic.

Authors Note:
After writing this, I made dinner and had a fit of depressive thinking, a horrible loop of:
Omg I'm thinking about my depression! Why can't I stop thinking about depression? I getting Depressed? 

It was horrible.

Something small inside me reminded me that:

These are just thoughts, silly words in my head.

If I wasn't getting so upset and analytical about the content of those thoughts, they are not much different that some benign thoughts like:

Should I buy that sweater? I want it but I think I should wait.  I don't want to wait, I want it now…

Or any other obsessive thinking….

So I kept my cool, and focused on my breath and the sound of my feet as I walked around the pond three times.

I thought about neurology and mindfulness, and that if I got my mind and emotions to a calmer state, it would be easier to shift my thoughts to something less frightening.  Gradually, my attention went back to my normal happy chatter….

And finally I got on my hands and knees and prayed….

If I hadn't written this article, I don't know if I would have had the strength to make that huge shift.

Thank you all and good night!

Spiritual Gifts-Discovering Your Personal Power to deal with Life's Challenges

I believe that each of us has spiritual resources beyond our wildest dreams to deal with life's challenges.  

To be honest, the fact that the 12 steps are centred around finding a "God or Higher Power" of our own understanding has been paramount to any successes I've had so far.  It's funny to me that some people hate the idea of a higher power, and some people are over the top religious zealots that drive me crazy.

As a kid I went to the united church.  It was so great, they're Christians, but not pushy with their ideas and really open to accepting people from all different faiths.  You'll never any garbage like that if you don't find Jesus you're going to hell, or that demons will get you.  I hate those scare tactics, I'm pretty sure Jesus would be equally disappointed.

To me, spirituality is about self empowerment and finding our own meaning and higher calling in life.

I stay away from learning about anything that is dark, because it really can affect my psyche negatively.

I do think pre christian spirituality is cool, and I don't think that people who explore it are heathens.

Let's face it, all those holy wars and crusades and witch hunts were not about spirituality or purity, and were very evil in their own right.  It was only about political control, and people being controlled by religion.  

My english professors made me aware that we are all story tellers, and every culture has its own "mythology" about  creationism, what happens when you die, and ethics.  I don't think that any religions are really superior, but that they all point the way towards a greater relationship to the divine.  It's people, and their interpretation of religious texts to suit their own agenda that cause the problems.

Anyways, that's just a brief summary what helps me deal with my struggles:

1) Gratitude and setting positive intentions for the day

2) Positive self talk-even mantras

3) Mindfulness: I can be the observer of my negative chatter and not get so upset about it, just see it as a passing event in my stream of consciousness

4) Reiki and Healing touch-make sure you feel comfortable with the practitioner and that they have good energy

5) Sobriety, less dark, low vibrations

6) Good old AA, because people are real, and they do find a spiritual basis for living life

7)Christianity- I love the positive aspects, not the fear mongering

8) The peacefulness of Buddha

9)Nature

10)Divine experiences, hearing the right song at the right time, encountering the right person at the right time to help with an issue etc.

11)Power of prayer and meditation

12) Power of letting go, all we can do is our part and ask our higher power to help us with the right outcome and the acceptance of life on life's terms

13)Not thinking less of myself, but thinking of myself less often-its pretty easy for me to get stuck analyzing my problems, which tends to be useless, instead of seeing where I could be assistance to those around me.  I always feel better when I choose the later.

Lately I've been exploring Shamanism, I really like it, but I'm also super intuitive and it's actually abit scary.  You really do get to see beyond the vail, and its bait overwhelming, so I'm feeling it out for myself slowly.  So far I've gotten so many life giving messages.  I think it's that hardcore Christian perspective that everything pre christian is just demons etc that scares me.  (Like I said I'm very easily scared by that  kind of dogma.)

Two weekends ago, I went to a workshop on shamanism,  and I was overwhelmed by the wealth of spiritual resources that I encountered.  I'll write more about it once I've fully integrated the teachings.  All I know is that every animal comes from the divine, and has a lot to teach humans.  Nothing dark about that.  So far the Penguin has helped me tons, with its gracefulness and purpose during challenging circumstances.

Another participant brought back a power animal for me during the workshop.  I thought it was a bit silly at the time.  Turns out this animal has tons of good stuff to help me overcome depression.

The turtle and its message of self protection and self love has been speaking to me in gentle ways.  I went to a play last night and my depression was talking shit to me and I was a bit scared. I saw my mom's cousin, a very spiritual person, and she had on turtle earrings, and green oceanic accessories.  Hugging her, I knew that turtle was telling me everything would be alright, and it is!

Another Terrible Trip to the Psychiatrist's Office, Is There light at the End of the Tunnel?

I haven't written for awhile, because I wanted to be the kind of enlightened mental health writer that always has some fresh perspective on my recovery from depression.  Turns out it's a one day at a time struggle for me just like everyone else.  I also realized I don't really like doing research for every article, and so this blog is going be part of a larger project called "Breaking Free" An Alternative Approach to Depression and Bipolar, or something along those lines.  It will be semi autobiographical and consist of edited blog entries under different time periods or ideas about mental health….we shall see….

So lets get back to the story that is unfolding shall we? I have had five months depression free since doing a really short round of rtms. I got lucky, because it worked so well, but it didn't propel be into a mild hypomanic state, but instead left me with residual depressive symptoms, which I have been experiencing to some degree ever since.  I actually think this might be a good thing because it's giving me a chance to use my tools, while the depression is much smaller than me.

So now to my interpretation of Wednesday's doctors appointment….

The preceding week I had been feeling a bit tired of the daily grind, and a part of me just wanted to give up and let the negative thoughts run the show for awhile.  I was hoping that the Doctor would reaffirm that I was doing a pretty good job overall, which I am.

Sitting in his office I wrote the following…

Sometimes I wish this life could be easy and carefree all of the time,

My mind calm and collected,

An ocean of tranquility.

Instead the ocean is unruly,

Ripetides like Tofino,

Dragging me towards the rocks.

Now is not the time to panic,

But to swim diagonally towards the shore.

I am a pretty strong swimmer, and this did happen during a depressive bout, and my survival instinct did figure out how to get back to the shore quite easily.  I remember an intense feeling of calm and certainty that even though I was depressed, I wanted my life quite badly and I could trust my instincts and swim at an angle.  Sure enough, wave by wave, I got closer to my sister and her boyfriend who were oblivious to the fact I was in trouble.

Anyways, I read this to him, and he said…

"Only bipolar people can right prose like that. What symptoms possessed you to write that?"

Me: "Mid afternoon tiredness, fear of depressive thoughts…wishing things where easier."

Him:  " Do you have racing thoughts?"

Me: "Not really, maybe occasionally."

Him: "Are you anxious?"

Me: "On bad days for up to 30 min"

Him: "Did you know these mixed bipolar states are eating a hole in your brain?"

At this point I'm pretty taken back, not the kind of help I was looking for. He went on to explain bipolar damages your neurons.  Definitely a scare tactic.

Me: "That's pretty harsh, do you want to let me know what builds neurons?"

Him: "medications, mindfulness and exercise."

Well he's got two out of three, lol.

Anyways the rest of the appointment was spent with him telling me I'm oppositional and hard to work with, at which point I defended my right to have my own opinions based on my experiences.

We did reach the conclusion that I need to completely abstain from nicotine, because it can cause sleep issues, agitation and tiredness.  Fair enough, I have 48 hours nicotine free today!

I went back to my truck, dumbfounded, and on the Christian radio station I heard a song about God bringing us back to shore.  It was as though my higher power was answering my prayer, because psychiatry certainly was incapable of such a feat.

Later that day I went into an AA meeting, and when it was my time to share, I burst into tears.

I was so sad, I wanted assurance, but all I got was Bipolar is eating a whole in your brain and you need 5  medications instead of 4.  WOW…

Some kind people offered their words of wisdom:

"Take it one day at a time sweetheart, one hour at a time if you have too…"

Another member read me the following:

" As we go through the day we pause, when agitated or doubtful, and ask for the right thought or action. We constantly remind ourselves we are no longer running the show, humbly saying to ourselves many times each day “Thy will be done.” We are then in much less danger of excitement, fear, anger, worry, self-pity, or foolish decisions. We become much more efficient. We to not tire so easily for we are not burning up energy foolishly as we did when we were trying to arrange life to suit ourselves. "
From Alcoholics Anonymous: The Story of How Thousands of Men and Women Have Recovered, the so-called “AA Big Book,” 87-88. (AA World Services, Inc., New York, NY, 2001).

At this point I felt like I could go on, and stop obsessing about my apparently broken brain.

I than realized I'd lost my $700 IPhone…not to cool.  So I drove back to Calgary and retraced by steps. Sure enough, my cell phone was in the field by the psychiatrists office.

In the name of my own self esteem and self worth, I decided to let my psychiatrist know that that ignorant "bipolar is eating a hole in your brain" comment was hurtful.  I needed to go in there with no expectations of a positive outcome.

Fear and anxiety over confrontation made me feel like a nervous jello woman.  I went down to the river  to pray, and found a small pocket rock to give me strength for the 2nd face-off, with Calgary's self proclaimed Bipolar specialist.

Sitting in this office, images of emperor penguins danced across the television screen, and I knew my spirit helpers where near, and that this was important.

To be honest, the 2nd meeting was no better than the first.  When I told him how I felt, he said:

"What do you want, for me to lie to you?"

Fuck, what an asshole, I thought to myself.

I remained calm and collected.

I told him that in my experience, healers need to help build their clients strength and help them mitigate their problems.

He than told me I shouldn't be making friends with my illness, and that I needed another moodstablizer because I was under medicated.

I got the last word thought…

I told him I was going to write the alternative guide to living with bipolar, and he could preface it.

I left happier, lighter.  We both agreed no cigarettes for a month and see how I feel.  Sean will be coming with me next time, because my psychiatrist agrees with our light handed approach to medications when another person is present.

I went there looking for his approval, so that I could feel empowered.  Strangely his complete disregard for my holistic approach only solidified my truth:

I am no longer looking for a pill or a diagnosis to feel good about myself.  I will find my strength by sharing my journey with others and being of service to humanity.

I watched Intervention the other day, and I was moved to tears.  An alchoholic who left a trail of destruction and misery in her life, turns around and finds sobriety and goes onto be a drug and alcohol counsellor, and save hundreds of lost souls. All of her pain and suffering is transformed and becomes a catalyst for helping others.

As I was crying and sharing at AA, I said "I just pray that all of my depression and my attempts to find meaningful and sustainable recovery will eventually help someone else so that there can be meaning in all my suffering."  May this be so. Amen.

Watch out for overly indoctrinated, polypharmaceuticalist psychiatrists.

Stick with your penguins.

Depression and Addiction, a Double Edged Sword

Hello Everyone,
Hope you're all coping well with all life ups and downs.  I recently got the opportunity to go to Vancouver Island and see some friends and pay my final respects to an amazing friend that helped me early in my recovery. My journey in recovering from binge drinking and occasional drug use has been a breeze compared to my ongoing recovery from depression.

Along the way, alot of people who had never struggled with clinical depression gave me their two cents on the issue.  Even close family members have told me I just need to embrace the power of positive thinking in the midst of an episode. For someone to tell me that is like telling an overweight person they can climb everest.

Active depression feels like a horrible loop in my brain has been activated, a whole separate circuitry in my brain that is pathological and unable to be reset without serious intervention.


I 've often felt frustrated by family doctors, friends and people at meetings.  They would provide simplistic solutions or attitudes towards my condition.  It often made me feel more alone and misunderstood, so I decided breaching the subject wasn't usually to helpful.  Being silent and sad was often better than trying to gain understanding and acceptance from "normal" people.

So I made this video before I went to the Island because I was really upset about losing my friend Jason to addiction and accidental overdose.  He would hang out with me during my darkest hours and I didn't feel like a burden on him because I felt that on some level he understood my suffering.  I didn't talk to him a lot about his issues, but they were obviously serious enough that inspite of having amazing friends, a great job,  and a great family he continued to want to escape from whatever was haunting him in recovery.  Jason was an amazing friend, he was funny and went the extra mile for his friends.

He left behind his family and his family in recovery, including his best friend and her 7 year old son, who saw Jason as a father figure.

The point is that both depression and addiction are serious issues and without getting successful treatment for the depression, its pretty hard to stay sober.

I just hope that we can all be here for one another, online and in person, and find compassion and understanding for those who have a harder path to walk in this lifetime.

Why Share my Story Anyways?

Find your inner child and nurture it to wholeness

If someone looked at my Facebook page, they would see a lot of my blog entries discussing depression. They might wonder if this is all that I care about, it's definitely not.  I love spirituality, art, nature, my family and friends and finding community.  I especially love discovering the sacred realities and interconnectedness of people and nature that underline all of life.

Why do I feel the need to keep sharing about depression, inspite of all the beauty in my world?

I advertise March of the Penguins to people on my FB page that I've only met a handful of times, people that I do not talk to on a regular basis, friends from back in the day that I share very little in common with, and people that just added me as a friend.

I wonder, do these "strangers" think it's weird that I keep posting this stuff about depression?

DO they secretly complain about it, in the same way cynical people complain about silly animal videos? Do they judge me unfavourably? 

Maybe they do…I don't know, I don't get much feedback from my writing.  All I know is 1200 people have read my blog and that's huge, because that means a lot of people feel the way I did when I found Therese Borchard's Blog, Beyond Blue.  For once, I realized that if a smart, attractive woman with her PHD in theology struggles with depression, maybe I could cut myself some slack.  When I was feeling awful, just knowing I wasn't alone was a lifeline.

I wish March of the Penguins was abit more interactive, but the fact that all these friends and strangers keep tuning in means a lot to me.  It means that this is serious SH*T for some people, and it's a daily battle just to stay happy amiss distressing symptoms, that come with and without provocation.

Today, I am improving, because I am learning to tolerate symptoms that used to cause me to spiral downwards. Do I still feel overwhelmed and pissed off that I continue to experience suffering inspite doing my best with my lifestyle, counselling, medications etc?  Of course I do, I'm human.  I just try to hold onto self love, and the idea that I can reprogram my brain, one  day at a time.  

Its still scary thought, I don't always know if Ill be strong enough not to get sucked back down the drain.  As much as I want to take ownership for my wellbeing, this Depression is a very real thing, and even though I am responsible for doing the best I can wish what I know about staying well, I realize I'm not wired the same as other people, and that I'm way more sensitive.  I can get imbalances that I can't shake without outside interventions and that's not reality for everyone.  It's scary and awful, and for those who read this who can relate, I'm truly sorry, and I just hope you can all learn to live well and manage this beast.

I do feel better and more in control of depression when I realize feelings pass, and honour my true struggles.   This is a hard time of year for me, my Mom was really sick this time two years ago, and I ended up losing her.  Last Valentine's day I was in a horrible depression and I have haunting memories of the pain I felt throughout the day.  I'm just so grateful that I'm in a better place, and I'm determined to keep fighting for my wellbeing, one day at a time.

I've come along ways since last year, I have an amazing partner, a beautiful home, and a successful business.  I'm a talented artist, and I am finally getting back into painting.  Everyday that I wake up well enough to choose to be reasonably happy is a blessing.

 This is way I write, because I know I'm not alone, and I need to realize that this isn't my fault or a weakness, its a genuine condition, that's gonna take many miles of Penguin Marching to get used to.  It's time to stop fighting myself for having this daily battle on my hands and to keep finding ways to support myself and validate the fact that I am strong and this SH*T is real, it's not a weakness of character.

 I'm having a hard night, and would love to here some uplifting words, and ideas about how to make March of the Penguins more interactive.

Maybe I'll start with some questions?

What do you guys appreciate about my writing?

What would you like me to write about next?

Good Night All…Jeanne

My Story- Depression Introduces Its Self to Me While Tree Planting...

Me, Depressed in my early 2o's

Last post, I touched on my formative years and my foray into self abuse and alcoholism.

Tonight's post will be equally uncomfortable for me to write about, because this "condition" has stolen so much from me and I have yet to make peace with it and appreciate its presence in my life.

I even hate the word…D E P R E S S I O N.

I feel like if I say it 3 times it will appear like Bloody Mary.

But, I guess if I'm gonna have a blog about it, I gotta talk about it, so no one thinks I'm a lightweight, just spewing rainbows and sunshine, and penguin marches, with no real insight of how dark life can really be.

It struck me first when I was around 22, and went tree planting.  I told my then overbearing father to shove it, and decided firmly in my young mind I wasn't going to look to him for ANYTHING, and come hell or high water I was going to make my own money and live by my own rules.

I instantly felt very alone.  Even though the semester prior to tree planting, I was living downtown, was a regular at hip hop and rave nights, and was drinking heavily and experimenting with cocaine, I had an aversion to the other tree planters.  I had this weird jock idea (I was a college runner) that being a stoner was bad news.  Well, tree planters are a special breed.  I remember hippy men and women that didn't bathe, wore ratty clothes, played the guitar and smoked weed.  I also remember having to share hotel rooms with strangers that were much older than me, that I had nothing in common with, other than that we all had possibly the worst job on earth.

So I kept to myself.  For hours and hours alone in a barren, devastated wilderness, with a bag full of little trees.  I was going insane, obsessing about all that had gone on in my life and trying to make sense of it all.  Fear and anxiety started to take root.  Within a month, I didn't want to leave my tent, spoke to no one, and only took joy in eating the cookies they made in camp.  I was so alone and miserable, and I had lost my sense of self.  It was a frightening and depersonalizing experience.  Gone was the down for anything, good times, extroverted Jeanne.  I felt like a shell of my former self, just painfully going through the motions.  I felt like my soul was gone on vacation and I was just Jeanne's body waiting for Jeanne's spirit to return.

That's what is felt like the first time, and thats what is has felt like ever since.

I eventually came back to my Dad's house, mid August, with my head between my legs, and found very little support from my family, they pretty much told me to get over it and to stop mopping around and sleeping all day. I think my Mom thought it was serious and probably encouraged me to get help.  I went to my doctors office and got my first prescription for an ssri.  

I also started school again, which really helped.  I remember kinda feeling weird around my friends, but trying to be cool and just keeping my conversations really short in case they realized there was something wrong with me.  I went through the motions, doing my second year assignments, which at least gave me something to focus on.  (With depression, it didn't really matter if I was working, I couldn't escape the heavy, tired feeling and the constant fear that something was just not right.)

Than one day, while I was painting, I stated to actually enjoy what I was doing, and feel connected to the moment that I was experiencing, and I noticed some of the heaviness was lifting.  I used the positive  momentum to shift back to my normal self.  It's been really weird for me, it seems like the depression eventually just vaporizes and I feel like myself within a period of a day or two.

I stayed well for another 9 months, until the school year ended, and I was once again without structure or direction, and fell back into the same trap.  I remember having the hardest summer, spending hours in bed at my Mom's house and sometimes hanging out with my then boyfriend, a talented film maker, who had also experienced depression, and was ok with hanging out with me, even if I was silent and unhappy.

***

More to follow….this is hard to write because I want everything to have a positive slant…but dealing with recurrent depression is like living in your own private hell,  not the fire and brimstone type, but a silent, unchanging and seemingly never ending one…not something I would wish on anyone, and not something that any of us to do ourselves intentionally.

My story…the wounded healer…part 1

Recently, I began chatting with someone on Facebook, that was struggling with similar issues to me, depression and grief, and that sense of alienation that so many creative people can experience at times.
I was asked to share my story, and I sort of froze, because I didn't know how to proceed.
I guess they were struggling, and even though it's kind of comforting that someone talks about recovery from depression, I can relate to wanting to devour someone else's words to see if they really understand what suffering really means.

Its hard for me to write about suffering without writing about joy, because I really believe that those whose hearts and souls  have been touched with insufferable pain, have somehow made room for the heights of beauty and understanding that encompasses the human spirit.  Artists feel things deeply, they have a wider range of emotions to draw from when creating art.  I believe that all emotions come from somewhere, and that we can heal a lot of mental illness if we start to love ourselves and our feelings, instead of being upset that we're so sensitive or moody, or different.

So to help my friend, I will disclose abit about my suffering…

As a young kid, I always felt like there was something different or wrong with me, because of the reactions other kids had towards me, especially after failing kindergarden. I didn't have a great sense of self, or parents that were emotionally available enough to see how much I was suffering.  They were struggling in their marriage and busy with careers, and I didn't want to disappoint them by telling them I got picked on in school, they had enough problems. I definitely have some happy childhood memories, but there was a moody little girl brewing inside me ever since I was five years old, that would shape my view of life for years to come…. I showed my parents what they wanted to see, great student, good at art, a reasonably happy kid.  I kept up this charade until about the 7th grade, when I decided if you can't join the cool kids, be badder that they are, so that they are afraid of you and give you some respect.

This lead me down an interesting path, my wanderings between the world of the lost souls, that abuse themselves and others, and numb themselves to deal with pain and the world or high school and art college.

My one claim to fame from that time period is that I got pretty decent at graffiti, which gave me credit when I was out there getting messed up at bars and house parties.

Still the damage I did to my psyche, the abuse I went through by allowing myself to be under the influence around sick people, and the harrowingly close to death moments I faced, weren't really what I was looking for.  I was looking for myself.

Tomorrow I'll write more about my struggles with recurrent depression, how it feels, and what I have figured out so far to stay well one day at a time….