Broken Record

A broken record …

I am rarely proactive unless I am backed into a corner. I didn’t take anti-depressants until I realized that I could not imagine the future because living in my current state of mind was unbearable. I was fired from a miserable waitressing job in the Highlands of Scotland because I didn’t have the courage to walk away. I played junior/high school basketball for 5 years because I thought I should, not because I was happy doing it or even had any kind of talent for it.

Whatever my reasons for not leaving or quitting, these circumstances were certainly character building. Being one of the worst players on the team is a magnificent way to fully learn the meaning of humiliation, compassion, and determination. I have plenty of humorous and painful stories regarding my time as a waitress in the highlands. My favorite being the time that, in lieu of extracting the wine cork in a more civilized manner,  I placed the bottle between my knees and yanked out the cork in front of a table full of American tourists. Thankfully, they found this amusing rather than rude, but ultimately not the best decision to make when wearing a tight, black skirt and your boss is watching over your shoulder. Needless to say, it did not come as a complete surprise when I was let go.

Nevertheless, being proactive earlier rather than later in many life experiences would have been the better choice. This is certainly true in the case of my illness, and is something that I continue to struggle with. If it’s not so painful that I can’t get out of bed, then I don’t force myself to make even minor changes.  I still struggle with taking the occasional sleeping pill, or trying anti-anxiety medication. I am resistant to changing the dosage of the anti-depressant, despite medical advice from my doctor. I have been referred to an anti-anxiety support group, and am terrified to go. Rather than fully come to terms with the situation, I still rail against it and settle for the uncomfortable, but familiar, daily struggles.

The positive out of all this is that I do eventually learn from my mistakes. I may not push myself as hard as I need to be pushed, or be as easy and forgiving with myself as I need to be, but changes are being made. Rather than waiting for the depression to become completely overwhelming, I am trying to think ahead and implement changes; taking the medication, scheduling time for exercise, and retraining my brain’s way of thinking. It has taken numerous bouts of anxiety and depression to fully realize the strength of this illness, that it is real, and that I need to begin to gain a level of control and acceptance over it.  If I continue to do nothing, I now understand what the inevitable outcome will be. Having done exactly that so many times in my past, it is finally beginning to sink in. I am beyond stubborn and impatient, but I don’t give up. It just may take me a few years to truly form a new habit or allow for a new way of looking at things. 

To learning from all of our mistakes.

Speak ...

I was incredibly saddened to hear of Wade Belacks death, one in a series this summer/spring of hockey-related suicides. I am not a Leaf's fan, did not know who Wade Belack was, and was completely unfamiliar of his career. I will make no attempt to convey that I know anything about hockey beyond what my brothers and Don Cherry have taught me. Nevertheless, I was both sad and frustrated to hear of his passing.

When I began to write this blog, I received a number of emails from friends and acquaintances who congratulated me, but expressed their surprise that I suffered from depression. To them, I came across as happy, funny and (relatively) outgoing. To me, my depression was so intense that I felt that it must be physically visible as well. I knew that this wasn't the case, but it could be so deep and crippling that I couldn't believe that others hadn't noticed. In retrospect I realize that there was no way they could have. I had become an excellent actress. If I needed to laugh and have fun, I usually could muster the energy. If I couldn't handle seeing people, I didn't go out. If I needed to leave early, I had excuses ready. If I couldn't cope, I didn't let anyone see me. Only my sister, mother and very close friends knew what was going on, and then only pieces of the whole story. I was responsible for keeping people in the dark with regards to what I was going through and how bad it became. Despite my outward appearance, I was often drowning in anxiety and depression.

Many of the articles and reports regarding Wade Belacks death mentioned his promising post NHL career. He had a number of irons in the fire, more so than many other retired professional sports players. He was scheduled to participate in the CBC show, "Battle of the Blades", and was pursuing sports commenting work. He was a father, a husband, and as teamates and colleagues recollected, "comedic, great personality, good looking and talented." In short, he had everything going for him.

The problem with depression is that, good fortune does not necessary alleviate or protect one from this illness. Neither does career success, age, colour, marriage, religion or gender. It rarely manifest itself physically. We can't see it on a bone scan, or diagnose it from a blood test. I'll never have a doctor point its location out exactly for me on an X-ray. What so many fail to realize is despite the lack of visual proof, mental illnesses are real, complex and can be crippling, confusing, and terrifying. In short, mental illness can be deadly. 

Talk about what is going on. Reach out to someone and explain. Don't assume. Ask questions. Stop judging (both yourself and others). It's the only way that we're going to all get through this.