Depression Cake

I’m in a bad spot. I’m realizing that I have to start reaching out again for more help or else I’m going to be in big trouble. I’ve pulled away for a few weeks, even stopping writing here, trying to keep my pain from the spotlight.

As you know, I went out on a limb for a few weeks there, trying to let people in on how I’m doing and being open about the fact that I’m feeling super depressed. I blogged about it, I told friends, and stayed honest with my therapist. After a bit of doing that, however, I realized that no one can magically help me feel better. None of my friends are wizards or witches, unfortunately, and no, I don’t know any fairy godmothers. I started to adopt the attitude that no one can help me because they can’t undo what’s been done to me in my life. No one can turn my feelings off like a faucet. So instead of telling my friends that I need them to come over and bring all the towels that they own, I’ve almost drowned in my pain all by myself.

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Share love & it grows; share sorrow & it lessens.

I’ve had all of these tabs open for over a week, planning on posting about each one of them and today I’ve realized that this is ridiculous. It’s time for one big sharing post!

Let’s start with the graphic I paired with this post. It’s been floating around Tumblr and I can’t find a source, unfortunately, but it hits the nail on the head with incredible precision. When I’m feeling depressed, it makes me feel a thousand times worse when someone tells me to cheer up because someone in the world is suffering more than I am. Not only does that message make me feel guilty for feeling bad but then I become overwhelmed with all the pain in the world and how helpless we all can feel. Next time you feel guilty for being depressed, remember this picture! Think about how silly it would be to tell a kid who’s happy about a lollipop to stop smiling because someone in the world owns a whole candy factory. It’s like one of my favourite Mark Twain quotes:

“Nothing that grieves us can be called little: by the eternal laws of proportion a child’s loss of a doll and a king’s loss of a crown are events of the same size.”

Going Public With Depression by Kat Kinsman on CNN Living reminds me of the biggest reason I’m coping with my mental illnesses today: I spoke up after being silent for so long. In volunteering and later working for mindyourmind I started to share my story to help other people and doing so has kept me afloat. Kinsman’s article covers her experience with depression and provides links to many other authors and websites who inspired her to reach out and speak up.

Speaking of mindyourmind, I am super excited about their updated Help pages. As always, they provide useful tips and links for helping oneself and for helping a friend, but now they go one step further to explain everything you might need to know when first reaching out. I helped a lot with the initial redesign of the Help pages, especially the “waiting safely” part, in the section called I Need Help NOW.  With my experience of attempting suicide several times, I am familiar with that horrible stage of waiting for help to arrive in an emergency. Most websites don’t go through the details of reaching out for help, waiting for help, and taking care of oneself in a crisis, but mindyourmind takes that crucial step.

What has inspired and motivated you this week?

 

 

 

The Therapy Game

After a weekend of rain, I asked my sister to bring over a board game last night. She chose to bring Therapy the Game, which I’d heard about but never played before.

It’s a game for three to six players but since there were only the two of us we made my Digby-puppy play. He kept eating the cards, though, so we had to put him in his crate and then take turns playing from his point of view.

The game is similar to Life except instead of driving little cars around the board, your marker is a therapy couch. You collect pegs as your couch circles through the six Stages of Life, infancy to seniority, and whomever collects all the pegs and reaches the Finish space wins.

At first it was hilarious. My sister and I have both been in therapy for years, so we were laughing hysterically as we pretended to be each other’s therapist as each couch landed in the therapy spaces. “So tell me, Erin, on a rating scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy meeting people?” I’d write down my answer and then my sister would write down what she thought I’d say. If she guessed my answer correctly, she as the therapist would get a peg.

There were also insight questions that related to each stage of life, usually a true or false question or multiple choice. If you guess incorrectly, your couch goes to the middle of the board into the realm of psychosis. “Oh no, my puppy is psychotic!” I wailed. “I knew it!!”

So, it was fun. I really got into trying to answer the questions that were based on real psychological literature and studies. When I landed on the odd “thinkblot” space, my sister quizzed me about what image I’d most likely see in the Rorschach-like ink blot. We laughed and swore and teased each other as we each ended up back in psychosis land, only to roll the dice and end up back in therapy.

Eventually we got tired of it, however, as the game stretched on and on. We started to talk about the possibility of the game giving people the wrong idea about therapy and treatment.

First of all, therapy isn’t a game you can win or lose, and your therapist isn’t your opponent. Seeing a therapist usually doesn’t involve a couch these days and you aren’t usually given a Rorschach test to see if you’re crazy. And if you lose at therapy, you don’t immediately start experiencing psychotic symptoms. And people experiencing psychosis don’t just roll the dice to stop their symptoms, either.

But most people are smart enough to understand that a board game doesn’t reflect the real world, no matter what the game is. It’s the underlying messages, however, that sneak their way into our ideas about the world. Mental illness is something that people joke about, so basing a game on its treatment enforces the idea that not only is mental illness funny, it’s a fun game to play. Having surgery isn’t fun, and people rarely joke about it, so I don’t believe that the game Operation is as potentially damaging to societies’ beliefs as the Therapy game can be.

On the other hand, by basing the questions in the Therapy game on real facts and findings, the game does give some useful information. Weaving correct information into a game format makes learning more fun for everyone. And I’m sure we all agree that society has a lot to learn about mental illness and treatment, so why not turn it into an activity for friends that just might kick-start some real conversations?

If I could change the Therapy game, I’d make each player’s marker a person and not a couch, to subtly remind everyone that real people go to therapy, not pieces of furniture that have no emotions or needs. I’d take away the psychosis part in the middle and make players go to school instead if they got a question wrong. The “thinkblot” tests are fun so I’d leave those in, but maybe add some information about how they aren’t common diagnostic tools anymore.

I recommend this Therapy game if you understand mental health treatment but need a break from being so serious about it all the time. Laughing is good for your mental health! And if you want to play a mental health game to educate others, head over to the Reach Out game at mindyourmind.ca. Teams and points give some competitive fun while you learn real information to help you and others.

George Stroumboulopoulos Interview

*I have delayed posting this due to the trolls that came out from under their bridges to spam my blog when I last posted about George Stroumboulopoulos. I am leaving comments open on this post for now, and I beg everyone to please ignore the trolls who try to bash the CBC everywhere they can.*

Enjoy the great interview via mindyourmind.ca and George sharing his valuable time with us! Watch the entire thing – it’s long but VERY worthwhile.

Some poignant quotes from George:

“This is it. This has to be good enough for me and part of the way to do that is to just focus on the now.”

“I think the surfers have figured out life. Surfers work really hard to get to a flat spot and then they wait and they wait and they wait and when a wave comes they try to catch it. I’ve never seen a surfer ever try to control a wave. All they try to do is ride through a wave…their own way through. And I think that’s the secret to life. Stop trying to control everything, stop trying to figure things out, there’s nothing to figure out. There just IS. So be a good friend, be a good daughter, be a good husband, be a good son, be a good whatever. If you’re going to leave a mark make it a positive one, and be there for others, that’s kinda it.”

“I’m not an optimistic person in general but I choose to live optimistically regardless because it’s better than the alternative.”

“This is it, health and justice for everybody.”

“You’re never alone, but you’re on your own. You’re never alone, but you’re on your own.”

“I guess success is being able to do tomorrow what you did today because you love it, right?”

My Art and Writing Published!

Picture an eighteen-year-old me, hiding in the basement of my family’s house. I have magazine clippings surrounding me and a blank piece of black paper on the floor in front of me. I feel overwhelmed, misunderstood, passionate, and angry. I feel smothered and silenced to the point of eruption. I am terrified. 

I don’t know what the catalyst was but that day I grew braver in my art. I found an image of a man holding a sign saying, “What am I hiding?” in a magazine. It grabbed my attention and soon I uncovered a blonde girl whose body fit with his sign after I cropped it out. I glued without thinking, letting my heart guide me.

My collage needed something more, but before abandoning it for more materials I turned my piece upside-down on the carpet so no one in my family would see it. Then I flew upstairs, typed out a few phrases that came to mind and printed them out in different fonts. I grabbed a bottle of red acrylic paint and a paintbrush and ran back downstairs.

As the red paint dried I felt that the girl wasn’t as silenced as I felt. I snuck into my dad’s workshop and grabbed his duct tape. A final X over her mouth did the trick. Lastly I added my fingerprints on either side of the girl’s body.

I didn’t even look at my collage for years after doing it. I just added it to my folder of collages and continued creating for no one but myself.

It wasn’t until working with mindyourmind that I showed my art to anyone. They liked my work and have some of it on their website (here). I didn’t reveal this piece, however, until the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health contacted mindyourmind in seach of stories from youth growing up in Canada’s mental health system.

I forget which came first, sharing my story with CAMH or sharing my artwork, but before I knew it, Hema Zbogar, the editor of CAMH’s journal, CrossCurrents, was telling me that my art had been chosen for the cover of the upcoming issue on teens transitioning to adulthood. She worked with me on my article as well. For the first time in my life I worked with an editor! It was really awesome. And it was also my first time getting paid for my art and writing, which is a huge milestone for me.

Getting paid was more significant to me than just making money. It was indication that my story is valuable to the world. I could have spent that money on many things but I choose to spend it on something that would give me joy, the complete opposite of my pain. With that money I bought my puppy, Digby.

It’s really hard for me to give myself credit or feel proud of myself, but I’m trying hard to acknowledge this success. It is a small achievement in the grand scheme of things but it’s big in my little life. Most days I feel like I have no clue where I’m headed in life but I can look at the cover of the CrossCurrents latest issue and feel like I’m making a difference. That’s the direction that I want to go.

Invited to Share My Story

Yesterday was a day of firsts! I spoke at the London Distress Centre‘s Annual General Meeting, where I told “my story,” which I have not done before. I put “my story”  in quotation marks because it was not even quarter of my story, really, but it’s impossible to accurately represent my life in fifteen minutes to a room full of strangers. I also really promoted my blog for the first time in a public setting, which is really exciting.

I now feel obligated to say that if this is your first time reading my blog, you should probably read some of the earlier posts instead of this one because I’m uncharacteristically excited here. Plus you spent the evening with me so you’d just be reading about something you already witnessed. That said, you can read about it here from my point of view so do whatever you want. :P

In my speech I talked about one of my suicide attempts and I talked about my close friend’s suicide. I talked about how I’ve always felt like my contribution to the world was like a big bucket of black paint, and that any attempt to paint a brush stroke of myself on the world would be poison. I said that by sharing my story others have reflected it back to me, showing me all the beautiful colours I am capable of making. I shared some of my art that I’m planning on making a part of this blog soon.

Considering the horribly raw parts of myself I’ve exposed in therapy lately, tonight’s speech was a walk in the park. Public speaking has always come to me pretty naturally, despite my severe social anxiety. I think I find it easier to speak when I know I’ll be listened to. The podium I spoke at tonight was pretty far away from the audience too so that helped. Had I been invited to this event just to mingle, it would have been much harder for me.

After my speech quite a few people came up to me to tell me how much they got out of it. It was awkward because I really just wanted to hang out one-on-one with everyone that approached me and ask about their life instead. I want to be friends with those people who liked my speech, but all I could say was “thank you” over and over.

The best compliment I received tonight was from Lori Otte, the Distress Centre’s Crisis Line Coordinator: “Your speech really humbled me. It reminded me why I do my job.” Those words are obviously powerful but the way she looked at me and shook my hand made them feel extra genuine. I’d love to interview her for my blog and ask more about her job and why she does what she does.

I just want to go back and talk to all those people again. It seems so off-kilter for me to share so much and listen so little. Anyway, it was a really amazing thing to be invited to talk at their event. I am so fortunate and thankful.

The Need to be Liked

Excuse time: I’m pug-sitting for a few days while my parents’ are out of town. As you can see, it is pure bliss to hang out with Milo so much. Now follow my lead:

Look deeply into those pug eyes. Deeper, deeper. Okay, now tell me something intelligent!

IT CAN’T BE DONE. Never underestimate the power of puggular gazing. Therefore, my posts have been sporadic this week.

Anyway, I have been getting some things done despite the puggular gazing. Christine at mindyourmind asked me to review a book called The Need to be Liked by Dr. Roger Covin and reading it is giving me a crash course on cognitive-behavioural therapy as well as teaching me some interesting information on why we feel the need to be liked in the first place.

Of course, Milo keeps interrupting me to tell me that the need to be liked is never a concern if you have a pug with you at all times. True enough. That said, unfortunately we can’t have pugs with us 24/7 so read on to learn more about the book that helps to fill in those gaps.

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Therapy: School of Life

My last post mentioned one reason I didn’t go to university or college: the fact that I felt invisible. There are actually many reasons I never went, but another reason that I am going to share with you now is that I couldn’t leave my therapist. When all my peers went away to school I stayed here because the rapport I had with my therapist was essential in keeping me afloat. I could have found a new therapist in the city I went to school in but I was so fragile that doing so was out of the question.

So I stayed in London and while there is a university here, it had no appeal for me. I decided to wait until I felt better emotionally and by the time that happened all of my ambition was gone. People tell me all the time that I should go back to school and they don’t realize that school is a really sensitive topic for me. So many things factor in to my decision not to go yet, one of which is maintaining proximity to my therapist.

When we hear about depression or other mental illnesses, we hear about their debilitating symptoms, but not about how debilitating treatment can be. While I acknowledge how fortunate I am to be receiving treatment at all, treatment is hard work.

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