Talk About Anxiety

I remember in grade school when we were all expected to give a timed speech in front of our classes. For those who were gifted with their story telling, the audience would grow.  I always went up with those little cue cards that Mom used for her recipes, completely detached from whatever I was rambling on about and trying so desperately to not end up with my head between my knees hyperventilating into a paper bag.  I guess looking back, those presentations were probably my first remembered experience of what a panic attack was going to feel like…down the road.  Oh, the irony.

The first time I came out with my story; sharing this journey “out loud” didn’t feel much different.  The difference being that I now know how to breathe through it.  I know I’m not going to die, I’m not having a heart attack, not going to instantly cease to exist…it actually makes me laugh now.  Yes, I still get nervous every single time I speak.  I still feel the panic attack coming on, often walking in just in time to speak as to avoid the pre speech foreplay of people watching me, wondering what I have to say, maybe able to see that I’m breathing like I just ran a marathon.  I confidently walk out onto the stage and promptly sit!  No I’m not being rude, I’m not trying to appear lazy or complacent, it’s just a lot easier for me to control my breathing when I’m sitting, you won’t be able to see my anxiety attacks!  I keep a bottle of water next to me at all times so I have a built in excuse to pause when needed to get a few deep breaths in!  It’s all a very strategic process for me. 

There are days that my story is too real even for me.  Spending the time reliving some of the worst moments in my life on days that my anxiety is begging me to just stay home, or my depression is suggesting it could be a movie day…well, it’s a challenge.  But I have a learned perspective.  You can be my therapist on those days.  On the days that I used to want to just be alone, I now know that I’m stronger with support.  I’m stronger if I let people in and remind myself that I’m never alone.  So whether you like it or not, I’ve learned to use you for that.  I will be gentle with myself as I share my journey with you, and I will accept that if I cry, if I struggle, it’s the choice I made.  I chose to share this journey so the world can learn how real it is for so many, most importantly because I want you to see “ME”.  I want people to see that yes I can still have bad days, but there are so many that are so good!  And even with the challenges I face, it’s so possible to take a deep breathe, laugh in amazement and wonder at the power of my mind and body, revel in my ability to work with myself to take it in stride, and just continue on my journey. 

I have figured out the worst that could happen would be a presentation that includes a full blown panic attack, perhaps a few tears in front of a bunch of strangers that came to hear me share my journey about living with anxiety, panic and depression; so frankly, there is the potential of a very visual presentation and perhaps greater understanding of what I go through…not a horrible alternative.  And the best part, there’s usually a medical professional, a shrink, a doctor, a social worker or some alternative in the audience, and I I’ve spent enough time paying for it that I’ll take my free sessions when needed!

What If...(Soap Box Rant)

What if I told you it really does get better?  


I know that can seem patronizing.  I've been there.  And sometimes, if I'm complacent enough, I can still get there.  But for the most part, life is better than I ever dared to hope.  


In passing I commented the other day, "I choose to see myself; not in memories of what I've lost, but instead in the things I dare to dream."  I spent so long being afraid to dream, afraid to try, knowing more often than not I would end up feeling failure and in embracing that I perpetuated the depression, the angst.  It was a curious moment when I realized I had to CHOOSE otherwise.  


Yes, I have a long list of diagnosis'.  Yes, I did/do require therapy in many forms to stay healthy, but that's it.  I am just staying healthy.  It's not a shame, it's not something I fear anymore or feel the need to hide.  I am simply CHOOSING to live the life that supports my desire to stay healthy and MENTALLY FIT. 


Maybe this is one of those soap box moments where I just feel the need to stand up and scream, it can be so much better;  or maybe this is just another wall coming down in hopes of revealing a piece of myself that has been so important in getting to where I am.  In any case, here it is;  Choose happy!  Choose to embrace hope and dream in every possibility!  Try not to read these words with spite or in doubt.  I understand all too well the ease at which we can embrace what feels impossible.  Just today, try something different.  Go for a walk.  Throw on your favourite CD.  Hit up a yoga class.  Invite a friend for coffee.  Just try something different, and if only for 1 minute of that you forget to be "lost", it's a minute to build off of! 

Hope

Sometimes if you open your eyes just wide enough;

you will allow a sliver of hope to slip in, 

planting itself eternally in your soul where it manifests a future, 

fantasized about with your entire being. 

Each morning I wipe the dreams from my night eyes and awake to this hope. 

It comes to me from every angle. 

Today in shades of orange as it threatens to hide itself it hues of grey for the duration of waking time. 

But I know it is there, 

not hidden, simply out of sight. 

I imagine it there lighting my future in its purity. 

Casting gentle shadows for my exploration,

embracing the possibilities that fill my soul; 

this morning as I opened my eyes to this vast sliver I call hope.

"Age of Anxiety" - Doc Zone

So I'm sitting here, quite anxiously awaiting the release of the Documentary (Age of Anxiety) on CBC's Doc Zone tonight.  Initially when I decided to share my story, I had made a decision that if I was to share it would be without reservation; that I would do everything I could to honestly reveal everything that living with Mental Health (Illness) has involved for me.

My participation in this documentary for me was simple, let down my guard and share what it is to be faced with a daily need to utilize all of the coping skills I have learned and established in order to effectively and happily live with Anxiety and Depression.  This was my commitment.  For me, that involves daily exercise, good nutrition, proper sleep, medication, naturopathic s and psychotherapy, all of which combined enable me to remain confidently in recovery.

Like anybody who chooses to watch tonight, this will be my first viewing of the finished product.  To say I'm nervous would be an understatement, anxious; of course, fearful; a little...but the foundation remains and in this I find solace.

I may not agree with every opinion of what is shown, I may have a very similar or very different experiences to others being portrayed, and I may not support every viewpoint or perspective that I will see.  However, as is so very necessary, I will have been given the opportunity to be apart of another conversation surrounding the education so very needed on Mental Health issues within today's society and for that, I am grateful.

So that being said, I'm signing off for the night and will be back soon with my response to the "Age of Anxiety".

And...thank you so very much for all of your continued support, it means more than you know.

Looking Back

On several occasions I have started and restarted writing a book.  I was reading back on some of what I had written and came across this.  I am so very grateful I chose to share my story, to move beyond the fear of having people know "me" and the truth about what I face in life.  I am so grateful for all of the support I have found, the conversations I get to take part in, this journey.  I just thought I would share...


I often wonder what my life looks like from the outside. I envision this snapshot, a picture captured in a moment. In one moment a definition is created and analyzed. Quite like any picture, putting forth a perception that allows people to see what they want. If only they knew what reality lays outside the frame. I hold on to those moments, the ones that convince the world of my strength, my independence. I have been told when I walk into a room people notice me, that I have mastered the arts of communication and people skills. That is exactly what I want people to see. I am proud of that person, the one that radiates happiness and confidence. It is in my nature to want to be that person, and I am, but outside the frame, there is a very different story to be told. Ever since I was young, I have known exactly what I wanted from life, and I was never going to let life offer me anything less. I was going to be in control of my destiny. I was going to be successful, and more importantly, I was going to make a difference. Perception plays games with us. It allows us to become our harshest critics, and worse yet, it allows us to become enablers of our situations. Life is much easier to get through if you can always find a way to point the finger of blame just beyond yourself. And it is not to say that there are many things in life that we cannot control; it is just a question of being able to take what life hands us and make of it what we want.

I have often written out my circumstances, attempting to tell a story that would allow me to make something positive of my situation. I have contemplated hiding behind the anonymity of writing, leaving myself out of this story in order to maintain some semblance of pride. Only in doing so I would be failing myself, in hiding behind my story I would simply be enabling myself to continue hiding. I am tired of hiding. It has taken me a long time to recognize that this is even my story. Because I know once I accept this as my story, then I have to accept the responsibility of telling it. I will no longer be able to hide in that picture, in that moment of silent perfection that I can alter into whatever enables me to hide beyond myself. That moment of blissful ignorance that convinces me I can make you see only what I want you to see. I once believed control was a gift we each possessed, given to us to provide us each with the ability to make the world cooperate with us. I was wrong. Control is a beautiful illusion, a trick played on us, and an ignorance we have created in the spirit of self-preservation. I believe control is simply a theory dangled in front of us, and we grab on with both hands in the spirit of feeling more powerful. I wish I could say I recognized this sooner, but if I had, then I would be writing a different story.

Answer to Anonymous (Back From Falling: Part 5)

"How did you turn this around and make yourself ok with people knowing all this about you? My biggest fear is if I admit to all of this and embrace it as part of myself, is that people will identify me as 'depressed' first, rather than as myself?"

~ Question from Anonymous (Back From Falling: Part 5)

For years I had no idea how to be ok with my diagnosis.  I allowed myself to be made a victim of the Stigma surrounding Mental Health.  I felt the shame, the embarrassment, the fear... I worked so hard to get where I am today, and I have to continue to work everyday, complacency is not an option for me if I want to maintain recovery.  

I remember a year a and bit ago hearing about Daron Richardson (DIFD), one of so many stories we hear about kids taking their own lives.  Perhaps it was the hockey connection or perhaps it was simply where I was in my life;  I had found a way to cope with a long list of diagnosis' both happily and productively.  In honesty, I'm sick of hearing these stories and I can't help but think we all need to stop allowing tragedy to be our only motivator.  This is a real problem, a real Illness, and one that effects so many people.  Silence doesn't allow for support, for help to be sought out, or for education.

That being said, I guess I just hit my limits.  I walked into my Psychologist's office and asked her if there was any way I could help.  She asked if I thought I could share my story with others, if I'd be willing to speak with others and explain my journey.  I must admit I didn't give my response much thought at this point, my mind was made up and I wanted to help.  Keeping my "problems" silent has never helped anybody else and it has certainly never helped me.  

I went into my first speaking engagement scared to death but I made it through.  And then there was another and another... Before I knew it I was sharing my story with the media, something I can never take back.  I remember the first day CBC aired my story, I woke up to over 50 messages on my phone. (Most of the people in my life had no idea what I had been through before I started speaking)  I won't lie, I called in and took the day off work.  My initial thought was "what have I done?"  I used to be known as the "hockey player" and now I'm just the "crazy" lady.  It's amazing how willing I was to assume I should label myself as I feared others would.

I had the same fear as you, that people would only see me for my "illness".  That day, I went to CBC online and started reading feedback on my story.  I got through the first 20 or so comments, all very supportive and understanding, and then I got to the one that said; "This girl just needs to suck it up and grow a backbone."  It hurt for about a second, but I kept reading and realized the next 50 comments were all telling that person "where to go".  That one comment will ensure I never stop talking because ignorance can only be conquered by education.

By staying silent we only perpetuate the Stigma.  There are so many of us fighting every day to be healthy.  It is not expected for a Cancer patient to hide Chemotherapy treatments or for a person to overcome a broken leg without a cast or crutches.  We have every right to seek help and in doing so, in my case, I found the confidence to stop caring what the rest of the world thinks.  I am more interested in being healthy and supporting others to do the same. 

If people look at me and think "there is that depressed, anxiety ridden, crazy lady" well that is their perspective and frankly they are not listening to the story I'm sharing.  I am a healthy, outgoing, athletic woman with a great family, incredible friends, a job I love and an opportunity to be a part of a movement to help so many others end the suffering they endure behind closed doors.  Yes I have bad days.  Yes I see a Psychologist.  I do need to follow a Fitness and Nutrition routine.  Yes I take medication. I see a Naturopath, and on occasion I may have to cope with a situation differently than somebody without "Mental Illness" would.  

To those who feel the need to label me negatively or who find comfort in the ignorance of criticizing what they clearly don't understand, so be it, in all likelihood I don't have room in my life for them anyways, but I will keep talking in hopes those people take a moment to actually listen.

I have found far more people are interested in genuinely understanding the person I am and how I have learned to cope; then to label me as "sick" and write me off.  As a matter of fact, I don't know of anybody who has written me off and if they have, apparently I'm not missing them.

Back From Falling: Part 5

...It's a very careful process to remind myself I am ok in these moments.  Fighting the urge to stop working out, convincing myself I am indeed ok and what I feel is "normal".  Even more curious is that very thought, what is it to feel "normal"?

I fought through my workout conveniently on the ground floor at my office building.  Next up, eat properly.  I have been an athlete longer than I've known how to walk I think, this you would assume would be another easy concept for me, to eat well.  Not so much.  Our bodies are not simple, and eating to stay Mentally Fit is a carefully planned routine.  Not too much sugar, nothing too fatty, certainly easy on the caffeine, and so it was; my post workout staple, a smoothie, loaded with fruits and protein.

I hate the first few days trying to come "out of this place".  Everything is so hard, so tiring, so beyond challenging.  These moments are always measured for balance, acceptance of what I know, a careful check on my feelings and keeping tabs on my anxiety levels, yet pushing past the desire to withdraw and forcing myself to push on.

It occurs to me as I sit here writing how odd it must be for my coworkers, all so very supportive, to be reading this yet sitting next to me knowing (well knowing now) what my past week has been like.  Very curious.

In any case, I made my way back up to the office where I fortunately Lead a team of incredible people whose very energy make my days better, and perched myself at my desk.  It's a skill I like to think, the ability to "force" focus and present myself in these moments as a perfectly functioning individual, all the while crawling out of my skin from moment to moment trying to claim the peace I know I can exist in.

This day was a challenge, one of many I have known and one of more that I will face.  But on the 4th, by the time I got home after work, I had a realization that brought things slightly into focus, I hadn't feared my ride home from work that day.  This seems so simple, almost childlike, but it's so real, so gradual, and so subtly drastic how quickly things "turn around" in moments like these.  With just the effort spent getting up, working out, eating, socializing, I had started to force the "fear" away again.  And without even realizing how powerful these things are in my life, I started to prove to myself again that coping and managing are well within my means.

I at least fell asleep that night knowing this to be true, I have learned how important my perspective is, my ability to recognize a "victory" no matter how small...on the 4th, I wasn't afraid to drive home from work, and that made the 5th a little easier to face...

To Be Continued...

Back From Falling: Part 4

...I woke up on the 4th knowing I needed to take action.  The feelings were still there, the anxiety and the panic were very real.  It's a constant battle in these moments between what I feel, what I want to do and what I know I need to do.  Staying in bed is easiest, or at least it feels that way.  Once I sort through the fears, the irrationality, the chaos, and I determine that what I "feel" is a product or result of anxiety and panic, I find myself at a crossroad.  It seems odd that this is as true today as it was ten years ago, but here it is.  I can allow myself to exist in this state and ultimately be overwhelmed with the depression that results from feeling so "out of control", or I can accept the feelings and change my thoughts in order to better my situation.

On the 4th it was this decision, do I stay in bed feeling like "crap" and not making anything better or do I force myself to face the fear of getting out of bed, submerging myself into the world and force myself against every feeling to reenter the routine that keeps me in recovery?

The drive to the gym that morning scared me.  No matter how many times I find myself at this crossroad the one possibility always stays constant with me, "what if my routine stops working and I end up back where I was when I had no ability to cope?"  Well my answer is simple, it has yet to fail me and the day it does I will find a new way to cope, a new routine, and another set of supports to allow for me to stay Mentally Fit!

I arrived at the gym full of anxiety, weak from just making the effort to get up and get going, fighting myself can be tiring.  I hopped on the treadmill and my steps "back from falling" became literal.  It is a curious dilemma working out with anxiety.  A panic attack or anxiety attack in it's most basic characteristics cause irregular heart sensations/beats, troubles breathing, dizziness, and many more wonderful symptoms which are all ironically the normal bodily reactions to physical fitness.  This tends to be an issue for the first workout back from a "crash".  Each step a careful analysis between positive results of picking up the pace on the treadmill and a potential panic attack threatening to get out of control...

To Be Continued...

Back From Falling: Part 3

January 3rd has always stuck with me, a date I despise.  "The" day over ten years ago that I called home and heard the words fall from my mouth before I could stop them..."Mom, I'm dying.  I can't see tomorrow."  It's hard to let go of days like that.  I have often referred to it as the worst day of my life, we can call it my bottom.  Curious that I found myself again on the phone to my parents, January 3rd, they could hear it in my voice, they know when I'm not well.

I had made it to work that day, on edge all day.  Trying my hardest to concentrate, fighting off panic attacks.  My ears ringing.  Dizzy.  My heart racing and skipping.  By the time the day was done I had accepted what this was.  I contemplated calling for a ride home.  My familiar fear of getting behind the wheel, the potential of anxiety and the 401 an ongoing nemesis on bad days.  I got to my couch a lifetime later and settled into my chaos.  The desire to run for help is so real, so strong, feeling like I'm supposed to be checking into an ER but knowing exactly what I'd be told and how to handle it.

There is a part of this that becomes entirely patronizing when you "know".  I do "know".  I know that if I stop taking care of myself, it all comes back, and it did!

Calling my parents makes it real.  I am grateful I know to put things into perspective for myself in moments like these.  To simply stop and recognize that I have the ability to regain "control".  I heard my parents with gentle force, reminding me I hadn't been exercising, going through my lack of healthy eating as I was home, reviewing times in my life I had been "here" before.  We spoke for half an hour, their concern as real as it was the first time I called with these issues, but their ability to cope and understand has grown with mine.  An outlet so real to my recovery.

I hung up the phone and started with step one.  I felt dizzy, couldn't stay focused, poor eating, low blood pressure, no exercise...pulling myself off the couch I headed out to Shoppers to check for the obvious, low blood pressure.  The thing about my anxiety, my panic, when I start to "identify" the causes it alleviates. I made myself some chicken noodle soup and started recreated the "plan" I knew I needed to engage in.

Feeling better happens almost instantly when I remember I can "choose" proactivity, and I did, I do...

To Be Continued...

Back From Falling: Part 2

To say life has changed since I started sharing my story would be an understatement.  For the most part, certainly for the better.  However it would be a lie to say on occasion I don't find myself overwhelmed, not with any of the events or engagements but more so with those passing moments that remind me I am now completely exposed.  That safe little world I have learned to "cope" in is no longer.  People look to see how I am, if I'm having a bad day, whereas before they didn't know to.  Very few people had any idea of what I was going through, so hiding behind the excuse of being too busy was simple for me.  I could suffer in silence.

I went home over the Holidays, back to Kincardine with my family, and seemingly felt I had earned the "right" to just shut down.  I just wanted to lay around, watch movies, indulge in great food and excessive baked goods, and just take time "off".  This is a fair desire and one we all feel.  However it's not possible in my world, I cannot embrace complacency and "shut down" so to speak.

By the middle of last week I started feeling the familiar heart palpitations, the troubles breathing normally, dizziness,  the overall chaos that defines my anxiety and panic.  I ignored it, moving from bed to couch and back to bed.  Justifying it as "real time off".  By the time I was to drive back to Toronto, having not left my parents house in a week, I was faced with a familiar "fear".  I questioned my ability to get in my car alone and venture back to the city.  I brushed it aside, packed up and came back.

The drive wasn't as horrible as it used to be (when I first "got sick"), I was able to get through it uncomfortably, although I found myself drained and emotional upon getting home and landed on the couch at my house the second I arrived.  That was December 30th. I spent the next couple of days aware that I was feeling "off".  Not doing much more than laying around and waiting for it to pass.  The very familiar "not wanting to leave my house" and fearing something was going to happen was surfacing. New Years Eve was slept away, New Years Day dedicated to the TV.  By the 2nd I realized what was happening, the anxiety and panic were starting to dictate my thoughts.  I felt drained and on edge.  Then it becomes a battle within, how could I let myself get to this?  I know better!  Why wasn't I doing the simple things, working out, eating right, taking my meds on time, vitamins, supplements, meditation, yoga, talking to somebody?  That familiar feeling of failure and embarrassment is hard to keep at bay in moments like these.

By the 3rd I had accepted it was time to act.  I picked up the phone and called my parents.  They have seen me here.  They know this well.  After all these years the reassurance of knowing I have been here before, and far worse off, is still a huge motivator.  I am not dying.  I am not beyond coping or "out of recovery".  There is a simple explanation, I stopped taking care of myself and needed to change that, quickly.

To Be Continued...

Hero

This journey has taught me there is no use for my silence anymore.  To hide the truth is only to perpetuate the lack of education regarding Mental Health.  People do not understand and so exists this "Stigma" we all fight against.  We need to keep talking, and so I offer my honesty...

Hero

Why does horror motivate?

How do we justify our insensitivity to the human condition

We prefer this world where people are polite

Hiding us from their story 

The truth that is their life

Come here

And sit for awhile

As long as you can 

Tolerate

My honesty

This is my life

This image you see 

Flashing before you

Brief

Fleeting

Call yourself my hero

Could you be my hero?

Look at me now

Laying here

Raw 

This is my face

My body

Betraying me
Can you fix me

Save me

Wipe the tears 

Blurring 

Your vision

Of me

Let me introduce you to fear

It's that lump in your throat

That look in your eyes

I will not judge you

Take my hand

Let me console you

Let me be your hero

I will carry you through 

The horror you see

In me