Our world is broken

Our world is broken.  We have kids with PTSD from stepping over the blood of their precious classmates in school hallways, we have the leader of our country name calling on social media - setting examples for our youth which say, it's okay to pitch a fit if you don't get your way.  We have families sitting at the dinner table staring at cell phones instead of interacting with one another.  We have a suicide rate which is climbing year after year.  Every 12 minutes that ticks by, another life is gone.  45,000 people in 2016 experienced the mental anguish of seeing no way out of their torment.   A 1-800 number is not going to solve this problem.  It is bigger than a hot line.  We as human beings have to communicate with one another.  We have to know it is okay not to be okay.        

Recently, a handful of people asked me one word which completely threw me for a loop.  The word was "why"?  Why did he take his own life?  What was the catalyst?  I wanted to scream!  In fairness, I've only been on that side of the fence, the suicidal side.  I haven't been the devastated friend or family member asking why.  What I will say if you ask me why I overdosed, why I took pills, why I became a survivor of suicide, I do not have a clear concrete answer for you.  I did not have a particular "trigger" which caused me to pick a random Friday afternoon in March 2014 to want to end it all.  You see, that is what depression and mental illness is all about -- a tortured mind not thinking rationally.  Depression is many things to me.  Depression is a disconnect from reality, it is keeping things bottled up with a tight lid, it is not texting a friend back, it is the fear and assumption something bad is going to happen, it is crying for no reason, it is laying in bed craving sleep for an escape only to be kept awake by racing thoughts.  

I understand hopelessness.  
I understand darkness.
I understand despair.

But more than these 3 things, I also understand life, love and joy.  I am committed to recovery.  

My biggest hope, wish and prayer is for our society to try to understand mental illness.  Keep the conversation going.  With each sad story in the news, I am seeing somewhat of a #metoo movement if you will.  On twitter, there were so many courageous people coming forward talking about their depression and struggles after the deaths of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain.  I felt so proud to be able to reply to people giving them resources which help me continue my journey of recovery and life.

For those of you who have lost a family member or friend to suicide, it is never one person's fault.  Not yours, not someone else's and not the suicide victim's.  Instead, the fault belongs to the natural forces that create the potential for suicide, which many times include mental illness.  The forces of suicide cause irrational thoughts.  They rob the person of the ability to see any possibility for change.  They connive and plot to make the person believe that suicide is the only way to end their pain.  Usually it is not just one issue, but instead a multitude of problems, that lead to suicide.  There are no simple explanations.  Be compassionate to yourself in your grief.  The below link is an article more eloquent than I could ever write.   All friends and family should read this who lost someone to suicide.  It is raw, real and compassionate. 



https://psychcentral.com/lib/an-open-letter-to-children-who-lose-a-parent-to-suicide/

Finally, I want to share these tweets which I feel explain so much. 

@caissie So many messages telling those who are struggling to reach out.  Fair enough, but part of what depression does is mutes your ability to reach.  If you are NOT depressed and you see someone struggling, YOU reach out.  If you don't see someone who used to be around, YOU reach out.  

It can be kind of scary to a regular person who thinks they don't know what to do.  It is certainly awkward as hell.  Who cares, thought?  Ask, "Are you ok?" Say, "I am worried about you." Ask, "Can I get in tough with someone for you?"  Even here on twitter.  Don't mind your business.  

Hope and Help

It is hard for me to express the sheer pain and grief I feel when hearing about a suicide.  The closest thing I can equate to it is how PTSD must feel to people. The tears flow and my mind swims back to March 7, 2014. Mental illness survivor's guilt perhaps?  Why did I survive and they didn't?  My biggest prayer today is that people will try to understand how depression envelopes your brain and incapacitates you and controls every aspect of who you are. Untreated, every single day is a battle to live, to cope, to get out of bed.  

Huff Post:  "It's not even just sadness, it's physical pain and passiveness. The world around you keeps moving and you are there, remaining still and lethargic. That's the thing about depression -- it's silent, and it doesn't care if you are black or white, male or female, rich or poor. You can be standing on a train next to someone reading a book and that person could be screaming inside, clinging on to their last hope of life."

There is hope and help.  I am living proof of this hope and help.  
Reach out.
Be a friend.
Send a loving text.
Care.

In closing, I wanted to repost JT's blog he wrote because I think it is important for people to understand just how difficult mental illness is to see in others.  I pray for this family to feel wrapped in God's love and understanding as they grieve.  

I understand.

That two word sentence is the biggest lie I ever told my wife.  The biggest one I ever told myself.  I understand.  No, I didn’t.  No, I don’t.  No, I’m not certain I ever fully will.  Because I didn’t understand Depression.  To me, it was simply a word…a feeling…it passes, right?  Heck, they named the illness after an emotion…how stupid is that!?  Perhaps that alone made it difficult for me to understand.  Perhaps it is my thick-headed, stubbornness.  Perhaps it is a combination of things…but the fact remains I didn’t understand what my wife was going through.  Oh yes, I said I understood…and maybe I even thought I did.  But that was akin to me sticking my toe in a freezing pool and saying it was cold…while my wife was immersed in the deep end.  Like me opening a cellar door and stating how dark it was…while my wife was enveloped in the darkness.  Like me trying to pick up a heavy weight…proclaiming how heavy it was and putting it down….while my wife was dragging it around.  I never understood.  I couldn’t possibly, because I wasn’t living it.  I realize that I may never truly understand it…because I believe that in order to truly understand…one must live it…not stick their toe in.  I didn’t realize she was freezing, in darkness, and carrying a heavy load…with no one to help…because I wasn’t there.  A guilt I will carry…but that’s a story for another time.  For this time, it is simply one point…I now know I didn’t understand.  My wife suffers from Depression.  So to me, while technically I do not ‘suffer’ from it…I deal with it.  Because I am in this with her…together we are in the deep end and swimming to shallow waters, leaving the dark for a brighter place, helping each other to carry the heavy loads.  I want to understand…and I can try to do that better…but I also think that may be missing the mark just a bit.  Maybe it is not about me fully understanding.  Maybe it is about something else.  Maybe it is not “I understand” that she and people that suffer from Depression need to hear.  Maybe it is not hearing anything…but more seeing and knowing…

I’m sorry.  You are not alone.  I am here now.

Joy in my journey

A year ago on Friday, I was in severe pain.  
Today, I am celebrating my recovery.  

Below was what was waiting for me on the Keurig this morning.  

In celebrating "my now", below are a few things which stand out over the past 365 days.  It feels so great to help others brave the waters I have treaded.  

1.  Live in the now.  Now
2.  There is always hope.  Hope
3.  Talk therapy combined with medication is key.
4.  Ask for help.
5.  Be grateful.  Some people are praying for what I am blessed with. Gratitude
6.  My situation is not permanent, pervasive or personal. Attitude determines altitude
7.  You have to feel to heal.  Feel to heal
8.  Celebrate me!  It's a wonderful life 

9.  Sleep = quality of life.  Lights Out!

10.  Suicide is not selfish.  Robin Williams

11.  Support groups rock!  Support 

12.  Don't make assumptions.  Assume

13.  My husband loves me for me.  I understand. 

14.  Family check ins are paramount.  Check in 

15.  Be transparent.   

Thanks for being on my journey.  

HOPE

I've blogged before about Robin Williams.  I've wanted to blog about a person I went to high school with.  Today I am blogging about a local Methodist Minister.  A celebrity, a GHS alum and a Minister all having one thing in common -- suicide by depression.  Folks, it does not discriminate.  

There are still days I don't want to face the world, return an email, a call, a text, go to an appointment, get out of bed.  However, there are so many more days now that I truly cherish and am so overwhelmed with happiness that it feels like I can beat this depression.  That happiness comes from my husband and from friends and the laughter we share with one another, it comes from family members and their unconditional love for me.  It comes from having a relationship with God and relying on devotions and scripture to lift me.  I love when friends and family are able to penetrate the barrier of insecurities that depression creates, allowing me to feel love again.  Those are the days that make life worth living and that keep me fighting.  

I fight the battle in my own brain daily.  Some days I feel like I am winning and some I feel like the disease wants me to lose.  Especially when I see others lose their own battles.  When someone takes their life, it is tragic in so many realms.  On a personal level for me, it is terrifying!  Because if someone like that - someone spiritual, talented, beloved, seemingly with everything to live for - if someone like that loses their fight, do people like me have hope?  The answer is yes.  Hope is letting every one who is struggling know they are not alone.  Hope is knowing there is help to be had.  Hope is understanding.  Hope is compassion.  Hope is happiness.  There is hope.  I am hope.  

Tomorrow night, I will go to show others there is hope.  I will go to my support group meeting to lift others who are hurting at the recent loss of their dear friend, father, husband, mentor and minister to this dreadful disease.  As hard as it is to walk through that door sometimes, others have done it for me when I have needed lifting week after week.  In closing, time and again I am reminded how important it is to share my story.  I received this message after going to my hometown to a visitation at the funeral home.  The old adage always rings true, be kind people, for you never know the battle people are fighting within.  Show up, be present for people.  You may be all the difference they need that very day.           

It was so good to see you tonight! I want you to know how very brave I think you are sharing your story with others!

Jan 5

I have a friend that suffers from depression I share your blogs with her.

We laugh & cry together & most importantly she knows she is not alone. Thank you for that!

Boy Interrupted

Last night after a long final day at the Atlanta Gift Mart, I walked in the house to JT entranced at the TV.  We've all heard of the old movie Girl, Interrupted capturing Winona Ryder in an institution.  Boy Interrupted is also about mental illness, however, it is a compelling indie HBO documentary brought to life by Evan Perry's parents, Dana and Hart.  I don't want to ramble so I'll summarize briefly what the movie is about.    

Evan Perry committed suicide at the age of 15.

Evan had bipolar disorder.

Evan's Uncle Scott committed suicide at the age of 21.

Scott had bipolar disorder. 
The film is moving, powerful, exhausting, sad but necessary.
Going off medications can be life threatening.
Evan represents so many who experience medication side-effects, distorted perceptions, hopelessness, pointlessness as noted in his suicide note below.  
Evan's parents, brothers, friends, teacher and Psychiatrist all give important insight to this dreadful illness.  

In summary, I'm stunned his parents had the mental fortitude to make this film.  It gives me hope that others may see the film and learn about how hard it is to live with a mental illness whether it be depression, bipolar, schizophrenia or anxiety.  One snippet of the film that resonated with me was an interview with one of Evan's closest school friends.  He was devastated and shocked to read Evan's note with the list of things to die for.  For me, it confirmed how others around us are the last people to know what is going on at times.  On the bright side, there is always hope.  I define hope.  I define survival.  I define recovery.  I define life.     


Boy Interrupted