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.

Coping while Your Therapist Is on Vacation

I should have written about therapists going on vacation at the beginning of the summer so this post could be more helpful, but my therapist’s vacation is starting today and so it only crossed my mind to write about now.

It’s fair to say that I always have a hard time when my therapist goes away on vacation. It used to bring me to tears – and still sometimes does – but I’ve figured out a few tips to keep my head above water for my few weeks without a life jacket.

1. Make it Your Vacation Too

Sure, we can’t exactly take a vacation from our mental health issues, but we can look at the therapy break as a good thing. When was the last time you were bored and said, “Oh, I know what would be fun: THERAPY!”  Yeah, it isn’t a walk in the park and although it can be comforting and reassuring, therapy is not fun. There is a board game called “Therapy” though, and somehow it sells. Anyway, if you miss therapy THAT much, play the board game. Otherwise, focus on giving yourself a treatment break and have some fun. Fun can be a foreign word to those with depression but it’s just as important as anything else in life, if not more important. If you’re stuck for ideas, hang out with a little kid for a while. They don’t know how not to have fun!

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A Plea to Doctors and Patients

I just turned off a rerun of House on tv and it got me thinking about the dramas we watch on tv, especially the medical dramas. Why do we watch these shows?

The storylines are interesting, love between characters ups the ante, but every episode of medical dramas tend to include a stranger being helped. This stranger goes to the hospital after being in an accident or having alarming symptoms that something is wrong with their body and they turn to medical professionals for relief. That happens in the “real world” every day, right?

The difference between tv doctors and real doctors is pretty vast. Obviously, actors on tv aren’t real doctors, and the whole thing is about drama and not science so the medical side is also a crock. The biggest difference that I see, however, is exactly what draws us to the shows in the first place: the doctors on tv care. They care because they are human beings.

Wait, what was that? Real doctors are human beings, too?

One could argue that all real doctors care or else they wouldn’t have gone into the medical field. So why do we rarely see or feel that care? Especially in the ER, a place people visit only in an emergency, why do doctors “treat ‘em and street ‘em” as fast as possible?

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