Joy In The Breath

A healthy happy life requires balance, easier said than done, at least back in my 20’s and 30’s. Looking back I rarely took the easy route, was always toughest on myself and as a perfectionist, I had to do everything myself. Not necessarily, the best plan, especially if you’re a single mother working full-time. Without going into all the details, suffice to say ‘I lived in interesting time…’

In 2001, my life started to spiral out of control, but I’d always been good at brushing problems, I had no solution to, under the proverbial carpet – a bit too good! Instead, I lived in denial, ignored my mounting symptoms while desperately trying to plough on through. By the end of 2002, I could no longer ignore the dark thoughts, constant negative internal monologues, and incessant crying for no good reason. Somewhere along the way I had turned into someone, I no longer recognised or liked for that matter. I was desperate to return to my usual sarcastic, independent self, and at this point was willing to try almost anything…

I went to see a Doctor and he confirmed what I already suspected, I was suffering from stress-induced depression, commonly known as professional burnout. I went home with a prescription for Effexor (antidepressant) and Xanax (anti-anxiety), along with a dose of anger at myself for letting down the side and not being strong enough. Antidepressants are not a quick and easy fix, just the opposite in my experience, they can take anywhere between 6 to 8 weeks to take effect. Then there are the side effects, some of which are no joke, like ‘…you may suffer from suicidal thoughts…’ I mean seriously!

Anyway, when the antidepressants did kick in I felt numb and disconnected, a feeling I didn’t enjoy and considering I was depressed, that’s saying something. Then one morning I woke up and came to the slow, horrible realisation that I had no memory of the last 3 days, not even a glimmer and that scared me. I flushed all the pills down the toilet, against the Doctor’s advice, and for a while, I went back to brushing things under the carpet... Unfortunately, the problem with the carpet trick is a completely new set of self-made problems involving bailiffs, debt collectors, and me hiding in my bathroom pretending not to be home, started popping up...

Fast forward to May 2010, and everything came to a head in the form of a total mental meltdown in the reception area of my work, not pretty. When I got home, I rang my Doctor (a different Doctor I’d been seeing for 3 years) who listened to me for as long as it took to sob out my story. He pointed out that stress-induced depression was the curse of the strong, which turned out to be the first step in accepting that I had not failed at my life but rather, the circumstances of my life had failed me, and I didn’t have the tools to deal with them. My Doctor also gave me a prescription for Sipralexa (antidepressant), an appointment for the next week and the next 2 weeks off work. 2 weeks turned into 6 years, several more antidepressants and their respective side effects...

It was a slow process, with a few ups and a lot of downs, and a steep learning curve. Then in December 2012, I started taking Remergon (antidepressant) and for a time I really did start to feel like my old self. However, by August 2013 one of those aforementioned side effects kicked in big time. I gained 19 kilos in some unusual places like my knees, elbows, and knuckles to mention a few. Let me tell you there’s something very depressing about not fitting into one’s jeans due to fat knees! I stopped taking Remergon and for a few months I was okay, but eventually, I felt myself slipping down that all too familiar slope... So in March 2014, I started on yet another antidepressant, Redomex, and wondered not for the first time why someone hadn’t come up with a ‘Reboot’ pill for the brain - a reset to default settings so to speak.

In March 2015, I came across a youtube video about an ex-paratrooper who’s Doctors told him that he’d never walk unaided again. After 15 years of believing them, he started a daily yoga practice and his transformation over the next 10 months was nothing short of incredible. I was inspired enough to go out and buy a yoga box set and one of the DVD’s was ‘Ashtanga Yoga for Beginners’ with Nicki Doane. The first time I practised, I had no expectations; I unrolled my mat and started the DVD.

That very first Sun Salutation going down into Chaturanga (Four-limbed staff pose) beads of sweat formed on my forehead, on the second the sweat rolled off my nose onto my mat. I had no control over my descent, which was more like a splat into the forming pool of sweat followed by muttering… There was nothing easy about it, I hadn’t moved like this in decades, but I kept the ex-paratrooper in mind and breathed on through! The DVD guided me up to Parshvottanasana (Sideways stretching pose), which took me about 45 minutes, and all the while the pool of sweat on my mat grew. When I sat down for the final 3 poses every inch of my body felt energized and my brain was silent, no dark thoughts, no negative monologues, just blissful contentment...

For the first time in 15 years, I felt fantastic, and that wasn’t something I took lightly given my history. The next morning, getting out of bed was a challenge. I hurt all over but I felt incredible. So along with my morning antidepressant, I unrolled my mat, started the DVD and sweated my way through it all again. Over the next 2 weeks, I repeated this routine and the pain got less, the poses got easier, but more importantly, I kept feeling fantastic. That’s when it dawned on me; Yoga was the reset button I’d been longing for throughout my illness and it was such an easy fix, with no side effects only benefits...

Over the next couple of months, I worked my way up to Navasana (Boat pose) – ‘Half Primary’ – and every day it got a little bit easier. Not to say there weren’t challenges, but by focusing on my breath and doing my best in that moment I could still flow through the practice and reap all the benefits. I now felt ready for a teacher and was very lucky to hit gold on the first strike with ‘The Ashtanga Space Brussels’ and Francesca Di Rosso.

Almost 3 years on and I still feel fantastic, I’m no longer on any form of medication, my knees are back to their usual size, and even better I’m now equipped with the tools – my daily yoga practice - to deal with most of what life can throw at me. After 15 years of searching, it was such an easy fix and my life is easier and a lot less stressful...

Feeling Left Out Again...

At the end of February of last year I got a phone call from my sister informing me that our mother (then aged 84) had suffered a major stroke and had been admitted to Addenbrooke's stroke ward, in Cambridge.

As I've already discussed, I felt immense sorrow and regret over not seeing my father before he died. So when my sister offered to pay for my ticket over to the UK to see our mother I jumped at the chance.

I put my life on hold for the next eight weeks and looked after my mother's every whim and need. It was a very stressful time in my life, without even taking into account things that were happening back in Belgium! That is a story for another day...

Then in November of last year my mother rang me up and announced that my son would be staying at University to study over the Christmas period. This bombshell left me feeling lower than low at a time in my life when I was already down in the dumps.

Eventually, I rang up my son only to find out that my mother wanted him to come and pick her up at home, take her over to Italy - where my sister and her family live - then return to Italy and take her back over to the UK. Now this vital piece of information, for what ever reason, my mother had withheld!

So we both agreed that he (my son) would come over to Brussels and spend the Christmas holidays with me, his godmother and our friends. Anyway, after talking to my sister it was agreed that we would all spend Christmas in Italy with her and her family... From my point of view we all had a good time but obviously something about this arrangement didn't sit well with my mother!

Now fast forward to last week, and yet another phone call from my mother letting me know that she was off to Italy, and yes you guessed it, once again she wanted my son to come and pick her up and take her over. Only this time my son would be spending a week in Italy before starting his summer job in London.

When I pointed out that had I have known I would have booked myself a ticket to Italy so that I could spend some time with my son she responded that she thought I was saving up to go to Sierra Leon (Africa) later this year. In that moment I felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart, so I hung up on her.

I can't help but feeling that she orchestrated the whole thing so that I would not be able to come over. Why do I think this? This time around she dropped her bombshell two days before their departure, knowing full well that I would never find a cheap ticket or for that matter someone to come and look after my cats...

When it comes to my mother I perpetually feel like I'm all dressed up for the party, but never get the invitation. Furthermore, I hate the fact that the woman can still reduce me to tears!

...And Then There Was Me...

There is something to be said about the bond between a daughter and her father...

As a little girl I wanted nothing more than to grow up and marry mine. In fact, the sentiment I was trying to portray was to find a man like my father... with the same morals, sense of adventure and humour, with an ability to see the good and funny in most things in life. A perpetual optimist who enjoyed each day as if it where his first.

 

My father was truly a great man, with all of the aforementioned qualities, and while he was alive everything in the world seemed right... with his passing my world dimmed. I lost my footing for a while as it seemed, to me at least, that my father - the eternal believer in my abilities - had taken his faith with him, and that is when the negative, dark thoughts started to filter into my mind.

Perhaps it was because I felt a great deal of sorrow and regret for not getting the chance to say goodbye to this wonderful man I was lucky enough to call Daddy, and that feeling lingered and festered into an unhealthy dose of guilt. Add to that the repeated hiccups that every day life brings, and the stress starts to build with nowhere to go.

Now don't get me wrong I love my mother but she has the unique ability to rub me up the wrong way. Where my father saw only the good in me, my mother has always tended to see the bad and okay as a teenager I was rebellious to a fault. Having said that I'm now in my forties and have come a long way from the rebel I was. Yet still my mother finds fault, and unfortunately from where I'm sitting, will never fully approve of me or the life I chose...

Working & Playing To Our Strengths...

"Using what you've got..." does not mean flaunt all your bodily attributes, just your innate talents. At first glance, you might be fooled into thinking that this is a limited edition, but these talents are tucked away in what we like to do, and in most cases do well. So why make life any harder than it should be? Good Question...

It would seem that a lot of us have the tendency to channel our energies into the things we may not like or even be good at, but instead we should hone our strengths and reach our optimum. Consider me this... How many hours a week do you spend working either at the office or at home? In all likelihood, it totals more hours than you spend on other activities. So now let me ask you this, how many of those working hours, do you actually enjoy and get a sense of accomplishment out of?

Not all that it could be, with room for improvement. Perhaps you are spending too much time and energy on your weaknesses i.e. things you don't enjoy doing and struggle to do when you have to. Would your time not be better spent, and even more productive, if you could simply focus on your area of talents and hone your skills to perfection.

 

I have the "Maximiser" and "Developer" talents - both have the common theme of growth - on the one hand, I maximise on people's strengths while with the other I will develop their potential over time - how much time depends on the individual. Now for this to happen I must gleam a spark of interest along with a potential to grow in the other person, needless to say this doesn't always happen! This is why I am selective with my friends; first, I must find their strengths and potential, before granting them the friend status.

I also have the "Empathy" talent, which gives me the ability to put myself in other people's shoes, but do not mistake my empathy for sympathy. My "Empathy" talent works well with my "Activator" talent, the side of me that can make the tough decisions even when some people's feelings might get hurt. That "Empathy" talent really doesn't like hurting people's feelings. The impatient "Activator" talent works well with the "Strategic" best way forward talent that I also have.

To sum it all up, I have the "Maximiser", "Developer", "Empathy", "Strategic" and "Activator" strengths - themes. So what is my ideal job? This is a question I have been asking myself recently, now that I'm on the first steps of the road to recovery!

A Is For A Mid-Life Adventure!

When I think back on it, I’ve always been susceptible to stress... The difference being that in my twenties, most things were new and unknown. In those days, back when everything ran at a slower pace, I bounced back from obstacles with ease. Like I said all those little set backs were okay the first time around.

However, by the second and third time around, the stress levels started to mount. Along with an ever-growing workload to be finished almost the second you’ve been handed it. Okay that is an exaggeration but you get my point. By the time I got to my thirties, these little and not so little unpleasant events were getting old. If I’d known then what I know now, I probably would have started practising Yoga in my twenties, but I digress...

Back in 2001, a good friend invited me to spend two weeks at her ex in-laws’, in a small picturesque village, Ostuni, in the south of Italy. Things went south, figuratively speaking, when a Third Wheel invited herself on our Italian get away. How did she manage that I hear you ask. Well, she told each of us that the other one had invited her, and so it was that our little duo became a trio.

Right from the get go the Third Wheel tried to impose her will on our actions. It started with a simple request, she wanted to spend a day visiting Rome, as she never been there before. So we accommodated, but originally my friend and I had planned to catch the night train to Ostuni the same evening as we arrived. Now please bear in mind that we both thought that the other one had invited the Third Wheel, so in the beginning we, somewhat, let things slide. Unfortunately, this started an avalanche effect of ridiculous demands from her.

This was the drop of water for me that made the glass overflow, and once the doors to the dam had been opened, there was no stopping the torrent. The Third Wheel’s antics got very old very fast, and my already short fuse blew. However, the woman just couldn’t or wouldn’t – that’s still up for debate – take a hint no matter how straight to the point or obvious it was. Our first, and only evening, in Rome and I’d had more than I could stomach of the Third Wheel, and we hadn't even started our holiday.

It had begun the morning of our departure, with a phone call at 7:30am, asking me to go and do her last-minute shopping. Barely awake I was in no mood, so after a curt response I hung up on her. There’s just no dissuading some people... She called back an hour later to inform me that there was a Strike, accompanied by protesters, at the airport. Then she dropped the lovely tip bit, that she would be coming to pick me up in 45 minutes. I hadn’t even had my first cup of coffee, and I don’t like being rushed in the morning.

Finally, at the airport without a solitary protester in sight, she tried – unsuccessfully I might add – to take my window seat on the plane. She wanted to sit next to me, as if I really cared at that point. As it transpired she sat – much to my chagrin – right behind me in her very own window seat - imagine that another seat next to a window in a plane!

I will not enumerate the countless other occasions that she tried to manipulate us into bending to her will, each time more ridiculous than the last... Like the time she asked my friend if she could borrow her trainers, while my friend was wearing them. I did my utmost not to let her spoil my Holiday, but the Third Wheel had such an adverse effect on me that she made me physically ill. I must be one of the only women to go to sunny, southern Italy and lose 10 kilograms, in as many days.

 

At our wits end and out of options, we waited for the Third Wheel to fall asleep - one morning following a long night of partying – before sneaking back out to the Travel Agency and changing my return flight. This meant that the original duo had five days to catch up on the fun, and catch up we did. I would like to add that once the Third Wheel had left I was no longer sick!

The moral to this story is never invite – or in our case are duped into inviting – a Third Wheel on holiday when you already have a perfectly good bicycle. We had left for our holiday as good friends and returned from it best friends. Our dynamic duo has endured and grown over the years...

U Is For The Ultimate Blog Challenge

Just over a month ago, I came across this banner on a blog I was reading and thought that I should try it. Now what was I going to write about? That was the big question, and like most people who enjoy writing I'd heard the adage about writing what you know, but what if what you know best is depression?

After all, I'd spent 10 years of my adult life battling this debilitating illness, crying for no apparent reason and willing myself, unsuccessfully I might add, out of the safety of my bed. I'd been evicted from my home, let the bills pile up unopened, had the bailiffs knocking on my door all because I simply couldn't face the world and the challenges it was throwing at me.

I had a lot to say on depression and what it had done to me, but was that enough? It was a good thing that since the beginning of the year I'd noticed a distinct improvement to my once gloomy disposition. With the help of a great doctor, who had finally found the right combination of anti-depressants for me, things were looking up.

On top of knowing the subject matter inside out - so to speak - I could also offer hope to the countless others out there going through what I'd been through, and I felt that that was important. If I could help people avoid the mistakes I'd made, perhaps even make a difference in just one person’s life that would be enough.

I set about getting a blog and writing my very first post. In the back of my mind I kept thinking if this doesn’t go well I can always stop, but the feedback I started to get, from people all over the world, was incredible. A real boost to my damaged self-confidence and this only encouraged me to keep writing. I’m so glad that I took up the challenge and started this blog, as the experience has been great!

J Is For The Journey Of Life

As the late, great John Lennon once sang 'life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans'. We can't control every little thing no matter how hard we try but part of the thrill of life is those unexpected twists and turns. You start on one course and end up on a very different one...

I know my life hasn't always gone as planned, but that journey has taken me to places I may never have visited of my own free volition. I never planned to succumb to depression - well let’s face it no one would - but that journey lead me to discover so much about myself. It is now very much a part of what makes me, me!

In all likelihood, I would have never started this blog or met some of the incredible people who have inspired me to keep writing. Looking back on my journey to date, some of the most memorable times in my life were the unplanned ones, the ones that just came about.

So for today, I'm happy to be me and to have friends who accept me for who I am. I now look forward to tomorrow and all that it may bring, like a blank page in a notebook waiting to be filled...

G Is For The Grass Isn’t Always Greener!

If you are sitting in the comfort of your living room, office or bedroom, reading this that probably means that you are lucky enough to have a roof over your head. Even if the end of each month is a perpetual financial juggle, there are people in the world who would give their right arm - metaphorically speaking - to have a place they could call home.

One thing that has always kept things in perspective for me, no matter how bad things got, was that at any given time, there is always someone worse off than I am. So today, I'd like to cast a thought for the people of Sri Lanka who has lived through 25 years of Civil War.

A war that has bought significant hardships to its people, with an estimated 80,000 to 100,000 people killed during its course. If that wasn't bad enough, in 2004 the Asian Tsunami killed over 35,000 people. Many of these people have lost their land, homes and loved ones, and for them every day is a struggle simply to survive.

So next time you're feeling down because your life hasn't turned out quite as you had planned remember that you would be considered lucky in another part of the world. Sadly there will always be people living through worse than you, just be grateful for what you do have and strive everyday to change the things that you can!

R Is For The Road To Recovery...

These last ten years have been very intense for me...

There were times when it felt like I'd moved forward two-steps only to jump back 15, but the one important thing to remember, for anyone out there going through a tough time, is I never gave up. There were times when everything seemed insurmountable, almost impossible, but with perseverance and patience, a way forward did become clear.

These days, I try not to spread myself too thin and only tackle one problem at a time, easier said than done sometimes. It is easy to slip back into old ways, but that is what led me down the dark and twisty road of depression in the first place. I now know that stress is my mortal enemy, and I avoid it like a hole in the head.

Five months ago, I took up Ashtanga yoga, which has helped me no end and I would recommend it to anyone dealing with enormous amounts of stress in their day-to-day lives. Furthermore, I use to have to visit my osteopath at least twice a year to get rid of all the knots and kinks in my back. Since starting yoga all my back problems have disappeared and I've regained the suppleness, I had in my twenties.

On a very different note, this weekend is the Jazz Marathon in Brussels. Two of my dearest friends will be doing their thing and I’m really looking forward to cheering them on. They have both been such a huge part of my life, and their encouragement and support throughout my ordeal have kept me relatively sane. Well, as I’ve said before I was never 100% sane to begin with and that’s okay!

W Is For Wake Up & Smell The Roses!

None of which was constructive...

Fast forward seven years and things weren't really any better. I'd just become very adept at brushing almost everything I couldn't cope with under the carpet. That was until the day came when I tripped over the aforementioned carpet, landed flat on my face, and everything came crashing down again. Only this time it was worse and I simply couldn't deny the facts any more.

I did try to go to work the next day, but that didn't work out quite how I had planned. So out of options I went to see my doctor - a different one from the last time. At least I had learnt from that experience. This time the doctor took the time to listen to what was actually going on in my life. He could see many of my symptoms were as a sat there opposite him crying uncontrollably, determinedly mutilating the damp tissue in my shaking hands.

Eight years down the line and I had just started to accept the fact that I was chronically depressed and contrary to by belief this was not a sign of weakness - quite the opposite in fact - not that it made me feel any better at the time.

Over the course of the next two years, spattered with the occasional up and lots of downs, I learnt to be patient with myself. Something rather novel for me as I'd never been very patient to begin with. There was some trial and error involved in finding the right combination of anti-depressants for me, but eventually the ups were more frequent and the down less debilitating. I was finally on the right track…

S Is For Sanity, Now Where Did I Put Mine?

I never really thought of myself as 100% sane, after all, I come with a nice little list of quirks. Don't we all? It wasn't until the end of 2002 that I started seriously questioning my sanity. Had I gone off the deep end or had my perception of the world changed? In all fairness to myself, it was a bit of both!

I had gone off the deep end, not that I fully realised it at the time. I'd become chronically depressed and due to my illness my perception of the world had changed. This wasn't something that happened overnight, it was a slow-growing parasite that only fully took hold at the beginning of 2003.

Now because I didn't know the first thing about depression and its debilitating effects, I honestly thought that I was going crazy. I no longer recognised the woman staring back at me in the mirror. I didn't recognise her way of thinking, her instabilities or her insecurities. These things were all new to me.

I did however know one thing for sure, that there was something definitely wrong with me. I just didn't know what it was, and that was the scariest thing of all. When a doctor told me that I was depressed my first instinct was to shake my head in disbelief. I'm a strong person who has surmounted every obstacle thrown my way. Surely, I can't be depressed!

That one little word kept coming back to haunt me until I eventually looked it up online and was amazed to discovered that actually I was, in no uncertain terms, depressed. This was not a turning point for me, which it should have been, but somewhere deep inside me I simply refused to believe what was right there in front of me.

I spent a long time raging against this new person I hardly knew and even more time trying to find the person I'd lost. None of which was constructive...

E Is For Cause & Effect

The release of the fifth version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) has created quiet a stir among psychiatrists and in the Media. I’m not a medical professional but I do have a vested interest in the way people suffering from a Mental Illness are treated, having suffered from chronic depression myself...

Just over 10 years ago, aged 32, my life fell apart. I went to see my, then, doctor who asked me a series of questions relating to my symptoms and quickly concluded that I was suffering from depression. I left his office with a prescription for Effexor (an antidepressant) and Xanax (an anti-anxiety) and was sent on my not so merry way. No follow-up appointment, no helpful tips or advice on how to deal with my illness, just a slip of paper.

Two weeks later, I work up, covered in bruises with absolutely no recollection of what had happened to me. It was beyond scary; I have always prided myself of being in control, one of the reasons I rarely drink and never to excess. Yet there I was on my 33^rd Birthday with a 3-day hole in my memory!

I got rid of all my medication, thought to hell with doctors and waited for the worse to pass. I spent many a dark day sitting on the edge of my bed trying to find the energy and motivation simply to get up. Now fast-forward 7 years, I’m back in that morbid dark place having suffered a rather public breakdown at work.

This time around, I was far luckier. I had a different doctor who actually took the time to ask me about my personal and professional life before even broaching the subject of symptoms. He discussed with me the different treatment options and chose one that suited me. He signed me off work and suggested things that I should change in my life. This doctor didn’t just treat my symptoms he went out of his way to discover the causes behind them, and that made all the difference!

Blog For Mental Health 2013

In order to raise awareness and stop the stigmas attached to Mental Health join me and... 

1.   Take the pledge by copying and pasting the following into a post featuring “Blog for Mental Health 2013″.

I pledge my commitment to the Blog For Mental Health 2013 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.

2.   Link back to the person who pledged you.

A Canvas Of The Minds - a great blog so please check it out

3.   Write a short biography of your mental health, and what this means to you.

I battled with depression, brought on by stress, for 10 years. During that time, I made many mistakes, due in no small part to the fact that I perceived my illness as a failing on my part. It took me a long time, coupled with hindsight, to realise that I hadn't failed in my life, but rather that the circumstance of my life had failed me. I started my blog to bring hope to those currently suffering from the debilitating effects of depression that there is light at the end of what may seem like an unending tunnel. It has been quiet a ride, which has brought me here today!

4.   Pledge five others, and be sure to let them know!

• Nelly Neurotic 
• Jennifer Clark
• Gerald Bouthner
• Kay Woodcock
• Disraeli Davis

5.   Leave a comment on "A Canvas Of The Minds" Blog For Mental Health 2013 post and be added to their official blogroll

… And remember, 'Sanity is only Insanity put to good use!'

K Is For Kindness Towards Yourself!

Random Acts of Kindness Barnstar

There was a time when I loved myself unconditionally, and although I never claimed to be perfect I was happy with who I was. All that changed when I became depressed, for the first time I hated myself. Hated the fact that most days I couldn't get out of bed, hated myself for being, as I perceived it, pathetic.

It took me a long time to get over that hatred and learn to love myself again just the way I was. One of the reasons was because I could clearly remember who I once was, and I missed that person with every inch of my being. All I wanted was to get back to my old self, reclaim my life and carry on. Like that had worked so well for me!

Then one day I realised that the old me, the twenty-year-old me, the impatient me, the charge ahead regardless me, was gone forever. Not because of my illness but because I was no longer twenty. From that moment, I started the journey of discovering who the forty-year-old me was like.

I learnt to accept that change was just that and more often than not was for the best. Once I'd grieved for the twenty-year-old me and accepted that the thirty-year-old me had battled with the dark side, I set about loving the forty-year-old me. After all she wasn't so bad, she was wiser, more patient and far more in tune with herself.

So please be kind and gentler with yourself. There is only one you, and you can't really expect others to love you if you don't love yourself!

O Is For Ostrich Syndrome...

During the decade I battled with depression, I spent a number of years with my head in the sand. At the time, I had little money, even less energy, and was very ill-equipped for any kind of battle other than the one going on in my mind. So, I started to ignore certain aspects of my daily life.

One of my biggest dreads, at that time, was the mail. Gone were the days of receiving letters from friends who live on the other side of the world, or the picturesque postcard from those on holiday. Now days it's all ominous brown envelopes containing bills, bills and more bills.

My depressed addled brain reasoned that as I didn't have the money to pay the bills why put myself through the stress and worry. So I simply stopped opening those nasty brown envelops. As I'm sure you can imagine this didn't stop the bills from coming, oh no. Now I had a large shoebox full of those nasty brown envelopes.

I would kid myself that if I ever ran out of toilet paper those nasty brown envelopes would come in very handy. Of course, I never did run out of toilet paper and over the years, one large shoebox became two and then three. Unfortunately, bills like chewing gum on the bottom of your trainers have a tendency of sticking, sometime long after you've forgotten about them.

Now let me tell you that by the time I did get around to opening my mounting collection of brown envelopes, not only did I have debt collectors pestering me, but half the time I couldn't even remember which bill they were pestering me about. So, if you are living through a similar situation, don't do what I did. Ask a trusted friend or family member to take over the dreaded brown envelope duty until such a time when you are better able to cope.

Words Too Many To Count...

Words, words and more words... Just 19 days ago, I started this blog about 'Mental Illness'. More specifically depression, something that I battled with for 10 years. Now let me tell you, it was one hell of a journey - emphasis on hell - filled with many twists and turns. I made mistakes, learnt from them and moved on.

At the time I started writing, I didn't even realise that May is 'Mental Health Awareness Month' that knowledge came about later. Like with many things in life you start with one idea which then evolves and takes on a life of its own, and that is what happened to this blog...

Over the course of the last 19 days, I've encountered many amazing people, who are battling with some form of 'Mental Illness' on a daily basis. Through their comments and observations, I was inspired to blog about things to avoid and things that could potentially help, but most of all I was inspired by these people's plight against the stigma attached to the word 'Mental'.

No one likes to be ill but stick the word 'Mental' into the mix, and suddenly you're to be avoided. I was lucky, but sadly an exception to the rule, that I never felt stigmatised by my illness. Throughout my journey, I was surrounded by open-minded, loving, caring people and that made all the difference.

So if you know someone who is suffering from a 'Mental Illness' and chances are you do, reach out to them and let them know that even though you may not understand what they are going through perhaps you can lighten their load. After all 'Mental Illness' is not elitist and does not discriminate, and although I would not wish it on anyone, it could happen to you!

F Is For True Friends...

... The kind of friends who stick with you through thick and thin. The kind of friends who don't give up on you, even when you might have given up on yourself. The kind of friends who love you unconditionally, without hidden agendas or judgement. These kinds of friends are rare, and hard to come by, but without whom you may not have made it through the really difficult times in your life.

I consider myself exceedingly lucky to have a small group of tight-knit friends who have done just that, no matter how crazy and irrational I became during my 10-year battle with depression. These are the people I would do anything for even if they never ask, I would still be there to help out anyway I could. Just like they were for me...

Since starting this blog I've had many people comment that they are afraid to admit their 'Mental Illness' to those nearest and dearest to them, for fear of losing them... This has not been my experience, and for that I'll be eternally grateful. If, however, this is your experience, I have one thing to say, that person/people were not your true friend(s) to begin with. This is not a reflection on you, but rather a reflection on them!

"A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg
even though he knows that you are slightly cracked."
[Bernard Meltzer]

T Is For Therapist

My 10-year battle with depression led me to seek out a therapist’s help. As a sufferer of depression, you cannot unload everything of those nearest and dearest to you, and this is where a therapist comes into play.

One important piece of advice I can give you when looking for a therapist; find someone who has more life experience than you do. Someone who puts you directly at ease and in whose advice you trust.

 

This was not the case for me… The therapist I went to see was a good 15 years my junior, fresh out of University and had very little life experience of her own. She also had the annoying habit of pointing out the blatantly obvious, without ever taking into consideration the actual ramifications of her futile statements.

Things came to a head one day when she told me, not even suggested, that I had to move out of my lovely apartment and find somewhere cheaper to live. Like the thought had never crossed my mind, considering our previous long discussion about my then financial situation. I was frustrated and angry all at the same time. Angry with her for once again stating the obvious and frustrated with myself for letting my life get so out of hand.

That session did not end well; I got up from my chair and let her know, in no uncertain terms, that she had over stepped the mark before leaving her office and never returning!

Articles & Post you may find interesting:

• How to choose a therapist (dirtydepression.wordpress.com)
• How can I benefit from a therapist who doesn't seem very smart? (ask.metafilter.com)
• Psychiatrists under fire in Mental Health battle (guardian.co.uk)

C Is For A Cautionary Tale

Three years ago day-for-day I had a very public breakdown at work, in front of all and sundry. Not really my finest hour! This was not my first time in the dark corridors of depression, but I promised myself there and then that it would be my last.

When I went to see my doctor I honestly believed that I would take a couple of weeks off work and come back rested and relaxed. Well that was three years ago and I still haven’t gone back to work. Even though I’m doing a lot better I’m in no rush to go back into the stressful work environment that led me to my depressive breakdown in the first place.

 The only way to learn is by making mistakes, falling flat on your face, picking yourself up, brushing yourself off and trying something different. No one can get everything right the first time around; a certain amount of trial and error is required.

I can now look back over those three years with a sense of peace and achievement. I know myself better than I ever have before; I know my triggers, my boundaries and my limitations. I am at a point in my life where I’ve made enough mistakes to know what doesn’t work for me, and even though I still don’t have all the answer I do know the things I should avoid.

Interesting Articles:

• Fighting Depression - 4 Little Steps Go A Long Way (blogs.psychcentral.com)
• Hyperbole and a Half's Wrenching, True 'Adventures in Depression' (blogher.com)

L Is For Momentary Lapse

Yesterday started out great, I was upbeat and optimistic even though the weather was grey and drizzly. Then I received an email from someone I don't really know at all...

It is not always true that those who know us best can hurt us the most. After reading one short sentence I found myself, inexplicably crying, and not because what was written was sad. Rather, I felt that I'd been chastised by a child, and even though I put myself in the other person's shoes, it still left an all too familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

This sudden burst of emotion took me by surprise, it had been a while since this had happened to me, damn those over active tear ducts. My first instinct was to reprimand that insolent child but at the same time I knew that what had been written wasn't meant to hurt, after all we didn't know each other. Yet somehow, that was exactly what that short sentence had done.

I took a long, hot shower, in the hope that it would wash away the negativity that had descended on me. I turned on my essential oil diffuser in an attempt to cleanse my mood. Finally, I curled up on my bed and went to sleep in the middle of the afternoon. Something else I haven't done in a while, consequently I was up until the wee hours of the morning.

Thankfully, when I woke up today the sun was shining not just outside but in me as well. It was all but a momentary lapse and not a step back into that dark place I’d resided in for so long!