When it’s Hard to Reach Out

imastoryI wish I could reach out to at least one of you when I’m in a crisis. I know it’s hard for you, my friends and family, to receive my call from the Emergency room, but that’s how these things play out for me. After twelve years of suicidal feelings, I still feel ashamed to ask for help, and the fewer people I have to talk to in my “weak” state, the better. I’m sorry.

I feel terrible about keeping you at a distance because I know what it’s like to be on the other side, to worry and wish I could do something  and never be given a chance to help a friend. It can be frustrating, even insulting, to be left on the outside. Often my reaction to a loved one hurting or wanting to hurt themselves is extreme: How could they do this to me? Don’t they know how much I love them?!

If you are one of the people who have been directly affected by my recent crisis, I really hope you understand this post, because I don’t know how else to convey this message. The guilt I am carrying around is halting my recovery, and I need to express this to move on.

This is why I don’t reach out:

When I’m with someone I care about, I literally can’t think about my own needs. I always put your needs before my own. Always, always, always. So when I need something badly, like a safe space so I don’t hurt myself, going to you  for help is counterproductive. I see the concern in your eyes when I share my dark feelings, and then I feel so guilty that I  start to back-pedal, trying to erase the impact of my words. I’ll lie and tell you it’s actually not that bad, that I’m fine and not to worry.

I’m working hard at changing my approach to reaching out, but it is very slow going. For now, when I’m in crisis I’ll probably push you away.

Please know that it’s never personal. I hope it can be some comfort to you to know that if I’m pushing you away, it’s because I’m trying to take care of me, and for now, this is the only way I know how. I will be in touch as soon as I can be; I never forget about you.

I’m sure there are others out there who feel like I do, who pull away when times get rough. My friend Maranda Elizabeth wrote a similar post recently that you should check out, too. The more we talk about this stuff, the better.

Fighting for Survival

Promo FliersI believe we have to fight to create a world worth living in. On my very worst days, art is the only medium that gives me hope, so on my better days, I try to contribute to the world through art. When I’m feeling bold I create collages and paintings, but art can be more subtle too, like leaving secret messages for others to find.

I like the message, “You aren’t alone.” It can mean anything depending on your state of mind, but I like to use it in reference to mental illness. This week I’ve carried around clear mailing tape, scissors, and a bunch of my tiny fliers during my walks throughout downtown. I’ve taped up my “You aren’t alone” messages in bus shelters to promote hope and promote my blog to those curious enough to see what my URL leads to. I figure lots of people wait in bus shelters with little to look at, so my messages would be spotted there. Plus if it rained, my fliers wouldn’t be ruined as quickly in a sheltered spot.

Tonight while walking Digby I decided to check to see if my messages were still up in the two bus shelters closest to my apartment. To my dismay, both messages had been removed by some jerk within two days’ time. Dammit!

In re-examining each bus shelter, I realized that I rarely ever see fliers of any sort in those things. Someone pays to have their gigantic ad on the billboards in those spaces. Glancing at the top of each shelter I saw the creepy CBS logo with its ominous eye peering down at me, something I’d never noticed before.

So fuck bus shelters. Who needs them? Besides me and my little shred of hope taped up against plexiglass?

Yeah, on my walk back home I felt pretty discouraged, thinking that my fliers being removed symbolizes my entire life experience. I try to make a difference, and the world stops me. Someone tells me to shut up or to at least not talk because they’re the ones talking.

Lately I feel so stifled, especially being so broke. I’m sick of not having enough money, I’m sick of thinking about money, I’m sick of complaining about money. I need to start making more money or I need to move out of this apartment that I love as my home.

These small acts of bravery just won’t cut it. One palm-sized piece of coloured paper won’t magically get Londoners to read my blog entries and buy enough zines for me to pay my bills. I need to do something bigger. I need to step out of my comfort zone.

My fears of having a job stem from trauma. When I was abused, I couldn’t leave and protect myself like I needed to. Twenty-four years later, I still get triggered and scared when I don’t have complete control over my present surroundings. I’m afraid that if I give up control I will be hurt and trapped all over again.

I feel like my trauma experiences have me by the throat, but I need to hold faith in my adult powers. So, maybe working for someone else isn’t where I’m at in my recovery, but surviving trauma has its upsides that can work in my favour. I have an increased ability for survival, endurance, and creativity. I can hang on and fight.

So where is this going? I have some ideas. As usual, I’m going to keep you guessing but promise you that you’ll be the first to know whenever I do have news to share.

In the meantime, think about what hidden tools your past experiences have equipped you with. How can you make better use of those tools? How can we all turn pressure into diamonds?

When you have that all figured out, cruise on over to HYPERBOLE AND A HALF. That’s right, Allie is back with a new story about depression. See that creativity? Yeah, life is good.

My Support Wheel

Remember how I declared 2013 as an “Art Year” for Daisies and Bruises? Well, I did some drawing for you this morning and ended up with this wagon wheel to illustrate this post. Yay!

I’ve talked about a wagon wheel representing my support system before, way back in 2011. I’m at the center of the wheel and each spoke represents a relationship in my life that keeps me strong and functional so that I can travel through my days. If you look at the diagram, the light purple spoke at the 12 o’clock spot is my therapist. Going clockwise, the next spoke is my psychiatrist, and the next three include each of my parents and my sister. Then I have two spokes for long-standing close friends. The last spoke, golden in colour, represents community resources like my local Mental Health Crisis Line, mindyourmind.ca,  and the hospital when I may need it. The coloured spokes on my wheel stay fixed and therefore I’m never left alone.

Now look at the thin black spokes between each coloured spoke in my drawing. These are my secondary supports including other friends, my blog readers, and my pets. Maybe some of my favourite books can be a thinner black spoke too – basically anyone or anything I turn to for strength to keep me going. The more spokes we have for support, the stronger we are and the better we can weather bumps in the road.

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Vacation Reply: Therapist on Holidays

needI’m running out of photos since I’ve been posting so often lately. It makes me want to apologize to your inbox, if you’re a subscriber. It makes me want to thank every commenter profusely for even bothering to come to my blog.

And it’s not just my writing that I’m super self-conscious about right now. I’m over-analyzing everything. I’m pretty sure I’m apologizing way too much; I’m overly polite with every cashier and stranger on the bus; I’m wondering if the person I’m talking to secretly hates me; and I’m repeatedly and spontaneously telling people how much they mean to me. I exhaust myself and, of course, I’m worried that I’m exhausting you, too.

Anxiety, anxiety, ANXIETY!!!

Obviously, I haven’t been the picture of mental health for some time now, but I’m connecting this current anxiety with the fact that my therapist is still on holidays. Today marks two and a half weeks without my dual appointment per week routine.

To make it worse, my last session with my therapist wasn’t good. I’d been feeling very depressed and I felt hopeless about the upcoming break and then to top it all off, my therapist didn’t even say, “Merry Christmas” when it was time for me to go. Some years she’s given me a handshake or a hug before vacation time, but this year I got nothing.

Who gives a fuck about Santa Claus when even your therapist can’t give you the gift of plain courtesy before kicking you out of her office?

I called and left her an angry phone message after leaving my appointment that day. She returned my call later on and said that she thought any seasonal gesture might make me feel like she was making light of my situation. That helped me to understand, but I didn’t feel much better on hanging up the phone.

It can be really hard not to take a therapist’s absence personally. Isn’t Christmas the time of year when you’re supposed to spend time with people you care about? So if my therapist takes a holiday, I often resort to thinking, “HA! I KNEW SHE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT ME!

Do you remember my previous post on Coping While Your Therapist is on Vacation? It’s this blog’s most popular entry, ever. So, I’m not the only one who knows the significance of a therapist going away for holidays.

If we’re struggling, we need more support not less. Unfortunately, we people in therapy lose one of our biggest supports a few times a year. No, it’s not fair. It’s one of the hard truths about therapy that few people talk about. It comes from the same place the fear in our gut whimpers, “But I shouldn’t have to pay someone to listen to me!” 

Payments remind us that it’s our therapist’s job to listen to us, and that can hurt to think about. But remember that our therapists chose this line of work out of every other job out there. To go to school to become a therapist takes years and years and years. Therapists listen to some of the saddest stories on the planet, from multiple people, day in and day out, almost every day of their adult lives.

That’s one hell of a commitment and they couldn’t do it if they didn’t care about each and every one of us. Truly. And they care so much that they do take their work home with them sometimes, considering our stories long after they leave their office. Sometimes those stories might even distract them from other people they care about like their spouses or their children.

I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m trying to explain this all to myself, because it’s scary to think that my therapist is human. She isn’t indestructible, as much as I need her to be. She’s mortal and that means that sometimes she needs a break to keep doing the work that she does.

Maybe when March Break or summer vacation comes along I can scroll back to this post. Maybe it can remind me that my therapist isn’t the same as all the people who have ever turned their backs on me. She isn’t trying to hurt me on purpose by going away and just because I’m out of her sight temporarily, it doesn’t mean I’m out of her mind.

She comes back from vacation, every time. After almost a decade of working with this woman, that consistency means a lot. It pays off. It pays me back in bigger ways than $100 a session. It pays me back for life.

So It Goes

nocoincidenceLast night I sat down to write post four of The Twelve Days of Christmas to discover that it was 1am. DAMMIT. Only four days into the Twelve Days of Christmas I broke my promise of a daily post because I was at a Christmas party and lost track of time. Kicking myself for failing as a writer, friend, advisor, and human being, I stood and entered my living room to find a shredded ten-dollar bill on the floor.

Digby looked guilty but only in a, “Well you weren’t paying attention to me, you asshole” kind of way so my anger subsided. It’s not like he knew that piece of paper had a ten-dollar value. Or did he? In the background of this little scene lay his new winter coat.

Just two hours before I had given “But my dog needs clothes” spiel to friends. “Boston terriers and pugs can’t regulate their body temperature in extreme weather due to their brachycephalic noses!” I don’t know if it’s because I find it hard to pronounce “brachycephalic” but no one ever buys my story.

I swear to God the pug breeder I talked to said that pugs have to wear coats. That said, two of my neighbours have pugs who seem to handle the winter just fine by being naked outdoors. And they aren’t even embarrassed!

Anyway, the best thing about feeling desperate so often is that the little things can become much funnier than they would otherwise. I mean, I really needed those ten dollars because I am flat broke. But did I need them in the way that Digby needs a winter coat? Who is to say what money can buy in terms of quality of life, even in the Christmas season when I’m making more gifts than I want to yet again. I have a roof over my head and a dog in a silly jacket to make me laugh.

So it goes. Life is fucked, one hundred percent. Children being murdered during the holiday season, and I want to cry every day. I can’t be perfect, no one is. So I’m going to screw up in being the perfect blogger and Digby is never going to be the model of dog behaviour.

In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, whom I’m leaning on quite a lot these days, “So it goes.”

“The repeated refrain from Vonnegut’s classic Slaughterhouse-Five isn’t notable for its unique wording so much as for how much emotion—and dismissal of emotion—it packs into three simple, world-weary words that simultaneously accept and dismiss everything. There’s a reason this quote graced practically every elegy written for Vonnegut over the past two weeks (yes, including ours): It neatly encompasses a whole way of life. More crudely put: “Shit happens, and it’s awful, but it’s also okay. We deal with it because we have to.” – A.V. Club

I even embroidered those words on my journal for art month. So it goes.

SoItGoes

Thank you Kurt, Digby, and my friends who humour my outrageous pet owner antics. Thank you readers. We’ll keep going, because we have to. Thank goodness life can make us laugh once in a while.

P.S. Digby also crashed a nativity scene recently. It totally made my week.

Construction Over Destruction!

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Negative expression is on a rampage this week in North America and while it can get overwhelming and fill us with despair, we need to fight it by sharing good things as fast as we can. No, art doesn’t express as fast and as deadly as a bullet. It’s more like a flower. It grows and encourages growth around it instead of communicating death and destruction.

At the rate that bad things are happening in the world, we need to step up. There can never be too much goodness in the world and we NEED it to help us cope with the badness.

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Drowning in Traumatic Waters

I am almost drowning in traumatic memories right now. That’s why I’ve been so depressed lately. Here’s a bit of the back-story:

I was traumatized within an inch of my life as a child. I had repressed my abuse memories until I was twenty-five and then the memories started to surface in recognizable chunks. It took me two years before I had the courage to speak up. This past September I went to the police about it as a way to prevent my abuser from hurting anyone else.

Before going to the police I thought I had dealt with the bulk of my trauma-related memories and feelings but I had not. Now, I keep feeling like I am four years old again and that the world is crashing around me. I feel scared and out of control and like my life is in danger, even though it isn’t. It is hell.

I keep thinking back to my early years of swimming lessons, when I learned that if someone is drowning and you don’t have a ‘life saving device’ to throw to them, it’s better if you don’t jump in the water for them at all. In their desperation to be saved, the drowning person can pull you under, causing two deaths instead of one. I feel like if I reach out for help I am going to drown someone with me.

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How to Have a Good Cry & Cover it Up (If You Need to)

Lately I’ve experimented with revealing my tear-stained face to friends and family as a way of being honest about my feelings. If people see that I’ve been crying, that tells a lot about my current state. But what if you don’t want people to know that you’ve been crying? What if the fear of people knowing you were crying keeps you from crying in the first place?

I first started to self-harm because a cut was easier to hide than a tearful face. Then, of course, that backfired because I had to hide scars once t-shirt season arrived again, that were proof that I’d been hurting months and months ago. Had I cried at the time I was upset, people would’ve known for maybe an hour or two and then the evidence would have been gone.

Crying can be embarrassing but we get the urge to cry for a reason: it’s our built-in coping mechanism for dealing with stress and pain. Our bodies don’t waste energy on things that aren’t helpful. Even getting goosebumps when you’re freaked out has a purpose: it’s to raise the hair on your skin to make your body look bigger and scarier to potential predators. Just like a freaked out cat!

“Maybe crying is a means of cleaning yourself out emotionally. Or maybe it’s your communication of last resort; the only way to express yourself when words fail the same as when you were a baby and had no words.”
-Aristotle

It might seem kind of dumb to write a how-to guide for something we all do naturally within seconds of being born, but I think our urge to cry gets smothered in today’s culture that label such normal coping methods as weak or unflattering. Can you imagine how ridiculous it would be to say to someone, “You don’t have to pee! Don’t be a baby! Do ______ instead?”

Anyway, I’ve cried a lot lately because things have been difficult and I’m trying really hard to cope in healthy ways. Sometimes I don’t hide the fact that I’ve been crying but other times I really want to, especially if I feel better after crying and don’t feel like talking about it anymore. That happened yesterday and I think I did a stellar job at hiding the evidence. But first, I needed to cry it out.

How to Handle a Good Cry

1. Let yourself feel everything you’re feeling

Give yourself permission to feel everything that you’re feeling. Don’t beat yourself up by calling yourself names. (My mom used to tell me not to feel sorry for myself so now I think, “Damn right, I feel sorry for myself! And it’s okay!”)

2. Keep Kleenex/tissues nearby.

Yesterday I needed two boxes. Also get a garbage can so your dog doesn’t eat your snotty mess.

3. Re-hydrate.

Keep a glass of water with you. You’re losing a lot of liquid through your tear ducts and your runny nose. Taking a drink can also help you slow down your sobs if you feel overwhelmed by them. Drinking extra water also prevents a post-crying headache from hell.

4. Remember to breathe.

Breathing helps your body cry. Think of it like “Oxygen in, tears out.” Plus, if you don’t breathe while crying hysterically, it can lead to throwing up. Trust me, you don’t want that to happen on top of it all. If you think you might vomit from crying so hard, cry in the bathroom.

5. Comfort Yourself

Crying can feel scary, especially when you aren’t used to letting yourself do it. I held a teddy bear super tight yesterday as I bawled. Teddy bears can’t be squished!  Hang on to whatever you need and it will get you through the tears.

6. Rest

There is nothing more physically exhausting than a good cry. Work rest into your method of comforting yourself

Although I believe that crying is never shameful, sometimes the fear of people knowing about the tears can keep us from allowing ourselves to feel.

How to Do a Post-Cry Fix Up

1. Rest Easy

My last step of the good crying process is “rest” but you will prevent puffy eyes if you don’t lie down during or after you cry. Lounge on a chair or with your head propped up to prevent your eyes from getting extra puffy. I’ve tried using ice (or freezies) on puffy eyes before but it never helped me much.

2. Dry Off

This is kind of a “duh” tip but make sure your face is dry before attempting any more cover-up steps. You can wipe your face but even then it still needs to dry a little.

3. Concealer

Even if you don’t wear make-up in general, a good concealer will hide the redness and dark circles under your eyes. I use Maybelline’s Cover Stick Concealer. It’s amazing and is available at most drug stores.

4. Eye Drops

Yesterday I used regular Visine and it took the redness out of my eyes.

5. Distract

Were you wearing eye makeup before you cried? Removing it and redoing it should help. If you weren’t wearing eye make-up, adding some now will make your eyes pop in a different way.  If you don’t wear make-up, try adding earrings or anything else on your head/face to draw attention from your post-cry face. Sunglasses work especially well if you’re going to be outside.

6. Smile

I’ve been told that if you smile, no one will know you’ve been crying, but I don’t believe that. It will help people see that you feel better after your cry, however.

What do you do to help yourself cry when you need to? What do you do when you want to cover it up?

(Wondering where my Monday posts have gone? I’m changing the “Monday Theme” to a “Monday Challenge” because I’m typically not able to post more than once a week right now and I’m sick of only writing about music, medication, and memories.)

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