Work In Progress

"What day is it? I can't seem to hold on to days any more. It's really bothering me."  My new friend M asks, shading her eyes to squint at me as we pause beside a swollen stream on our spring walk.  Trees reach out to each other above our heads, the path hugged by budding greenery, spotlights of sun dancing on the earth at our feet. I chuckle softly. My problem had always been the opposite.  I had a firm grasp on the days. Monday November 26, 2012 - The day I was admitted to the adult mental health ward. Monday October 6, 2014 - Returned to work.  March 11, 2016 - The day the darkness loomed so great I left work again to save myself. How could I have changed all the moments that led up to those days?  Now that I am unemployed, what will my future days look like? "It's my favorite day.  It's today," I reply with a smile.   I can tell she is not happy with that answer.  

Today, when my kids wake up, I will tell them I made  "extra crispy sausages" for breakfast. They aren't stupid though. Half of the package are burned black on one side. Here they are: I know how this will play out: "These look burnt" "Extra crispy!" I will insist, but I am already imagining the raised eyebrows, sausage crumbling to charcoal on their plate when they stab it. "Fine! Don't eat them then." See, look.  Now I can actually skip the whole conversation because I have lived it out in my mind.  This is how depression works for me....I get a preview of my failure and then get a live show!  Two shots for the price of one. Now you might be thinking, why not just imaging that the kids say, "Wow these are great crispy sausages". The Bloggess - Jenny Lawson  http://thebloggess.com/ Really?  False bullshit like that just makes the crushing reality of their scorn feel worse by a factor of te...

"Nev er be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you."   Unknown It has been almost three years since I started writing, suggested by my therapist, as a great way to get the immortal hamster off the squealy infinity wheel of anxiety.  Writing helps take the looping internal dialogue of negative self talk and stretch it out into a linear format, where it has a beginning and an end.  It's a bit  like taking a pencil and jamming it into the noisy hamster wheel.   Ka-POW.... Which would probably send the hamster flying, or at least give him a tiny concussion, so I wouldn't really do that... but you get the idea. At one point, the squeaky wheel was accompanied by a very loud clock, keeping time to the squealing wheel.... TICK -TOCK-TICK-TOCK.   SQUEAK...SQUEAK... Not only were there a million things to do, a million things to fix, there was a countdown clock.  Figure it out. TICK...

It is the first day of 2016 and the first day of the month I devote entirely to opening my heart and soul to hear what the universe is whispering.  January is the dreaming month.  It seems fitting that when the outside world is inside, that I should spend some time looking inward as well. Wrapped up in blankets and bed, peeking out at the cold icing sugar dusted world, I can get quiet, and just listen.   That is why I reserve the whole month of January. So I can find those moments between children and work and housework and the mundane to reach deep in to quiet pockets of being. Each year, they show up---beacons in the darkness that drag me back to the light, when the anxiety and depression sneak up on me and I feel myself going under.   On days when I just can't make another decision, I follow them to a safe place, because I found them in my dreaming month when I was open and listening and the world felt a bit more stable. Authentic ---it is t...

A few weeks ago Robin Williams was everywhere you looked. People were desperate for details; to find the one thing that assured them that his situation was so different from theirs that they are safe; that it could never be them. But if you suffer from depression, the suicide of such a brilliant, successful, individual; part of our lives for so many years and responsible for so many laughs; looks like a leak in your boat. A friend asked me, "Ok but no one knows what the future holds.  Could he not see that?" For someone drowning in the dark spiral of depression, there is no future. There is only now. There is only nothing.  The boat is gone.  You are under. It is not about your spouse or your friends or your kids or career or fans or dogs or anything.  When the darkness squeezes it is all about now.  And now is nothing.  It is bleak and empty and so dark, you cannot see a bottom, or edges or surface ---just darkness. "Some...

My tiny home feels hollow today.   Devoid of the warmly lit tree so recently in residence, the flat chocolate milk corner is invisible.  Barren of garland and stockings, the timer of the washing machine echoes up the stairwell.  Things are in their place; rooms remarkable due only to the absence of color--- beige and brown and black and Grey ---inside and out. Children are driven back to their alternate homes---school---with their mother.  The stairs are silent.  My heart feels hollow today.  This is when you have to be very careful.  Spring waits to be born, while the Grey winter growls and shrieks and demonstrates its power; promising frigid temperatures, more snow and freezing rain on the heels of so much ice storm devastation. Caution.  On a day such as this, governed by the Grey; muted by snow; the temptation to allow it to blanket your mind with so much numbness is a reality not to be trifled with.  Thi...

Change is hard.   It is particularly difficult when you are recovering from anxiety and depression.   Your old self, old habits, old mistaken beliefs, sit beside you in therapy looking like a comfortable blanket to throw over your raw, wounded self. It is easy to go back to what you know.  Putting yourself out there; being vulnerable and open to change; that is the hard stuff. In group therapy, I listened to people often lamented that they just wanted to go back to being who they were. That is exactly what I didn’t want.   Before each of my breakdowns (yes, there were two) my daily habits included not taking lunch breaks, working while I was sick, isolating myself, gossiping at work to fuel the fire of injustices (imaged and real), doing for everyone until I was so exhausted there was no time left for myself, then being resentful and wearing exhaustion like a badge of honor. That is what landed me in the hospital…..twice in 15 years.   Clea...

My oldest son walked into the kitchen last night while I was drying the pot I had just used to make marshmallow squares.  He leaned against the wall, eyes downcast, unfocused and spoke in a soft voice: "Mom.  Tomorrow.  Just so you know.  Something has happened and I cannot remember a SINGLE thing about ANY of the stuff that will be on the exam.  So.  Just so you aren't expecting anything.  I am going to fail the exam.  Probably need summer school.  Will have to quit my job.  Will get my university offer rescinded. But it is probably too late for summer school so.  It is just all over." I put down the pot and gave him a hug.  (no hug back) I told him it was fine. He was fine. He remembered stuff--he had an 87 going into the exam! You can't have marks like that if you don't remember stuff?! Right? I could see the tears forming in his eyes.  He still wouldn't look at me. "Ok.  Get your jacket we ar...

When we moved to Brampton I needed to find a family doctor---at 37--not married--two weeks into a new job in a different city--sleeping on an air mattress on the floor while my partner and son were wrapping things up in our London condo where they were still living---I found myself pregant . I went online and found a website that provided the names of doctors in various parts of Ontario who were accepting patients.  Of the few names listed I was immediately attracted to one.  Dr. Patricia Francis--a woman --who had studied in Ireland.  This to me was a sign. I am of Irish background and if you know Brampton at all you will know that finding her seems like a bit of the luck o' the Irish.  I was escorted into a room where a lovely coffee skinned, well dressed woman with a gorgeous South African accent I couldn't place asked the reason for my visit.  I told her I needed to speak to the doctor about a bit of a crisis.  He...

Once upon a time I thought I was alone in this.  When I had my first crisis let's call it....I lived in a small town in Northern British Columbia.  I had access to a therapist and a psychiatrist so I was lucky in that way.  However, I did not get to experience the power of working in a group setting, sharing with others to discover I was not the only one struggling with anxiety, depression etc.   This time around, fragile me was placed in a hospital environment and just allowed to see that there was a me underneath of  "job me", "mom me", "house cleaner me", "homework checker me", etc.  I was pretty small while the other identities were all sharp corners -- bold and brassy and larger than life.  So then tiny amorphous me went to group sessions and met others.  We talked about what we were going through, how we felt helpless, lonely and out of control to stop it all. It was a safe community at the hospital --- and my world of ...

At my core, I am someone who like structure and a good plan.  Don't get me wrong---there are days in the summer when I will wake up early and decide it is a great day to go to the zoo.  There is much grumbling as I wake everyone up and inform them of my fantastic idea and let them know we are leaving in 20 minutes.  Breakfast?  We will eat on the road - breakfast sandwiches (that gets them moving a bit faster). I start packing bathing suits and lunches, sunscreen and water bottles.  Spontaneous trips often turn out better than planned ones since I know I WANT to go and there feels like there is less pressure for the day to be "like I planned".  It is an "adventure day" so anything can happen and I don't put expectations on the trip---ok well fewer expectations.  A couple of years ago we went on a7 day Caribbean cruise out of Tampa - me, my husband and two of the boys.  I planned out each day of the drive to and Flor...

So really, I want to be the pup in this clip and depression is the cat....