mental health

Mental Health Monday – MY Coping Tools

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For this penultimate Mental Health Monday for Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, I thought I would offer a few of my personal coping mechanisms and tools. I usually go through my things that work until they don’t and then go for the less good ones. You never know which combination of tools and mood will break out of those bad days.

As much as I love fall, October in particular, I find it a bit more stressful than the rest of the year (until late spring). It’s hectic. The school’s want so much, the weather changes throughout the day from summer to later fall, and then back again. We’re close enough to Christmas that we’re worrying how we’re going to pay for it all. The church is beginning its new year at the end of November, and this year I have a few new responsibilities on that front. My son’s birthday is in October, and from then until the anniversary of my mother’s death the first week in December, it’s like a ticking bomb, counting down to her death, like it did in retrospect eleven years ago.

I try to get myself set up with a retreat; not always feasible especially monetarily. I also have my writing group that meets for eight weeks in the fall. Except that it was cancelled last week for this season. *headdesk*

I guess in addition to giving you some helpful hints and resources, I’ll probably be using many of them myself.

First is my writing workshop. I need it. Desperately. My plan? Go to the library anyway at the time the workshop would have taken place, and work on my two books. They’ve been waiting in the wings for too long. One is a travel, essay, spiritual journey to and about Wales, and the second is the horror of buying my house. The first one is too much emotion, and the second one is too much anger, so I can’t handle them for very long. Now, I have a dedicated eight weeks to put a dent in their outlines and direction.

Second is it’s list season. I’ve told my family already: If it isn’t on my list, it doesn’t exist. I knew they knew I was serious when they didn’t comment on my little rhyme. My advice is to put absolutely everything on the list, including reminders to eat and go the bathroom. You’d be surprised how often you’ll forget without that check up on yourself.

My list for tomorrow looks something like this:

Kids to school
Get dressed
Mass
Target – toilet paper and Dawn
Groceries – cheddar cheese, rice, and Yartzeit candles (for Yom Kippur)
Breakfast
Continue cleaning my work space while Supernatural plays in the background
Write Friday’s fandom post about Gishwhes
Check Gishwhes site for updates

Seriously, no item is too small or too big. Too big use several steps, so break them down and pat yourself on the back when you complete something.

Third, I mentioned Supernatural as background noise. This is my comfort sound, especially the earlier seasons. Find what you like but don’t need to pay 100% attention to. It could be music. Talk radio. Nature sounds. We all have that one thing. Find yours.

Fourth, comfort food. Macaroni and cheese is an old standby (Kraft in the blue box), but last week I had the most intense craving…..and then I had the most amazing peanut butter and banana sandwich on toasted wheat bread that I have had in a long time. It was……fantastic.

Fifth, it’s okay to just sit and do nothing. Watch TV. Listen to music. Read a book or better yet, a magazine, so you don’t need to give it the same attention as a book. Take a nap if it will help.

Sixth, catch up on Netflix. I can heartily recommend Sense8 (warning for language, sex, adult situations, and violence) and Parks and Recreation (warning for sexual talk and adult situations).

Seventh, take care of yourself. Say no to people if you don’t have the spoons. It’s okay, and don’t apologize for taking care of yourself.

Mental Health Monday – Belonging Spaces

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Before I talk about belonging spaces, I would like to briefly introduce my philosophy about depression. No matter how many therapy sessions you go to, no matter how many medications you take, depression is always there, just below the surface, trying to control you. You’re job is to control it. We all have different levels of depression, but I do believe that recovering from depression is a continuous recovery. It’s not the twelve steps of alcoholism, but I have a similar philosophy to that, in that I always need to be aware of the ebbs and flows of my mental health, and pay attention to when I need to bring extra coping mechanisms into play.

One of the things that I learned as I began my climb out of severe depression and into depression recovery was that I needed a belonging space. We have a decent sized house for our family, but none of the spaces were solely mine and in the depths of the worst of it, I spent a lot of time sitting in my car. It was quiet and I was alone, but it was also bleh.

I don’t drink coffee, but I do like Starbucks. I could nurse a cup of tea for about an hour and recoup some of my personality there.

During the worst of it, I also found that lists helped me get through the day, and I still  find myself revisiting them.

These are some of my tools that I will talk about later as I post about suicide prevention and prevention awareness.

One of my favorite belonging spaces is somewhere I used to visit during the worse times, but I still go there today for a smile.

Before I began on my depression medication, before I even new there was a problem with my mental health, I was on medication for high blood pressure, so I needed to pick up my meds at my pharmacy every month. When we moved to our house several years ago, I did not want to switch from our small town family run pharmacy to a big box drugstore chain, so I travel about thirty minutes to get there, once a month.

Each month, without fail, I’d travel the thirty minutes, and take a quick tour of the town, our old apartment, downtown to the street that has the post office and city hall, but inevitably, each time, I would find myself at the local natural attraction, the Falls.

I have never liked water, especially big bodies of water, but I have always enjoyed waterfalls, no matter what their size. For some reason, I find them soothing.

Over the years, the surrounding viewing areas of these falls have been built up, and they’ve added two new parks with historical kiosks and benches, and all sorts of floral and fauna. It’s just beautiful.
Instead of spending fifteen minutes sitting in my car in silence, I would get out and walk around the smallest park, sit on a bench, and listen to the water rushing over the side and splashing at the bottom, into the river. I’d close my eyes, and not think about anything. There was usually a cool breeze, and I’d let it blow over me, through my hair and across my closed eyelids. I’d breathe in whatever smells were there. It’s a city park, but it has such appeal. In front of me were the powerful falls, and behind me were the apartments, the former housing units of the nearby mills from the 19th century when these Falls were just as popular then as Niagara Falls is today.

I’d stand as close as I could, which was not very close, and I’d take a picture to post on my Facebook. Sometimes, I’d record the sound of the falls on my phone to listen to later.

This is my belonging space. It is sacred to me, and no matter what else was going on in my life or in my head, this place had, and continues to have a way of calming me, and letting me re-energize myself to go home and continue on until the next month; or at least until the next therapy session.

Before my corner office, before my visits to church, before my writing group, this was my space that held my hand, and squeezed my shoulders.

Try and think of your own belonging spaces that you can use to regroup and move forward. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or elaborate. I’ve used the corner of the food court at the mall. Give it a thought and be well, and please remember, you are never alone.

Suicide Prevention Awareness Month – Resources

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This is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. Here are some important numbers that you may need or find helpful if you have suicidal thoughts. While I am available to be an ear to listen through email or message, I am not a professional. It is always best to contact on of the professional helplines. That is what they are there for.

Suicide Prevention Help Line: 1-800-273-8255

The Trans Lifeline: 1-877-565-8860

The Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

IMAlive: (an online crisis network): https://www.imalive.org/

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233

Veterans Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255, Press 1. Text to 838255. There is also a confidential online chat.

Mental Health Monday

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A few years ago, my undiagnosed depression came to a head. For me that was my introduction to suicidal thoughts and ideation. This came as a surprise to me. I had spent my entire life from childhood to parenthood abhoring the idea of death. It terrified me. I think the curious mind sometimes finds itself wondering about the afterlife, and I was no different, but as bad as things may have gotten for me, monetarily or spiritually, I always came back from it because suicide was not an option.

I hadn’t really noticed it change, but one day it just did. I knew there was a problem when I began to think that suicide was actually a good idea and I began to plan how I would do it. Every time it came up as an option, something talked me out of it. I thought I was going crazy, with the lethargy and the mood swings. I didn’t know depression and anxiety reared their ugly heads, but something was pushing me back down and towards the end.

I called a friend on one of these nights to relay that morning’s thoughts, the only thing keeping me alive was that I’d be taking away the only car we had from my family. He said something to me, I don’t remember quite what, but I know that he stopped whatever he was doing, and he spoke very softly, gently bringing me back home.

When I finally went to my doctor, she immediately put me on medication, anti-depressants. I didn’t want meds, but I also didn’t care that I was going to take them. The first batch didn’t work at all; in fact they made things worse. I wasn’t suicidal anymore, but I also wasn’t anything anymore.

We finally hit on a combination of meds, talk therapy, and I began taking a writing workshop, and attending church services. I was Jewish, so this was a bit odd, I suppose, but it worked for me.

That was in 2012. Here it is 2015, and I am finally feeling like a real me. This positivity, where I could feel the change probably began at the end of last year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas of 2014.

It is a long road, and it can get worse before it gets better, but I did get better, and you will too.

There is a path to take; there are ears to listen and shoulders to lean on, and there is hope.

Do not be ashamed or embarrassed. Use all the resources at your disposal. Join a support group; online is equally helpful as in person. Find what works for you. Also find things that you have access to that will help you cope through the bad times. This week, I hope to offer you some of my coping tools, and where I take myself, whether physically or mentally when I’m having a bad day. We all have bad days. I still have bad days, but that is life. Life is up and down, and all around, and if I can get through my clutter, you can get through yours. You are not alone; you are never alone. There will be someone who will surprise you with their generosity of spirit. I have faith in you.

Today’s first resource is the sticky note at the top of the page. Do not rely on me, or anyone to get you through. You need a professional. These are some places that can help you through the most difficult times and on the right path to recovery. I still think of it as recovery. Take your mental pulse every couple of days. Don’t let yourself fall into a hole and forget how to get out.,

I saw a great quotation the other day:

“Not everyone has a mental illness, but everyone has mental health. It’s your responsibility to take care of your mental health.”
– Andrea Nguyen

It’s true; not everyone is mentally ill; not everyone is suicidal. However, everyone has mental health that they need to take care of, just like exercise for your body, you need to stretch and expand your mind to keep it in a healthy place. Think about the ways that rejuvenate you, and move you forward.

We are working towards no stigma about mental illness, and we should be striving for an equal balance between our physical health and our mental health. Get your mental health baseline.
Here’s a good place to start.

My First Anointing Mass

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Last week I attended my first Anointing Mass. I actually considered not going. My sick doesn’t seem as serious as other people’s sick. I have chronic health problems and a new one that has cropped up recently; something I need to think on, talk about, weigh pros and cons, and make decisions on, but because it has all of those steps it feels more like a business decision or planning a vacation rather than an illness.

I don’t know at what point I dismissed that as bullshit. That ridiculous my problems aren’t worth mentioning that so many of us do without thinking. We should not need to be beat over the head to take care of ourselves, both mentally and physically.

The anointing mass is for anyone who wants G-d’s help with whatever medical problem they’re having.

Even before I became as religious as I am now, I understood how important positive thinking is for health and curing illness. Studies have shown that even patients who didn’t know that they were being prayed for still did better than those that weren’t prayed for. Certainly, even non-believers can’t argue that prayer couldn’t hurt.

Still, it was very last minute that I decided to go. I needed to sign up since there would be lunch following the mass and they needed a head count.

Everyone I spoke to had told me how spiritual, how lovely, how beautiful this mass was. It hadn’t prepared me for the truly comforting feelings that the mass held and filled me with.

It was very similar to a Sunday Mass with the music ministry in attendance. However, we were seated in every other pew. People were helped to their seats so I ended up sitting with people I’d never met before. There were many elderly and wheelchair bound in attendance, several coming from the two nearby nursing homes and rehabilitation centers. There were many people from different parishes who come solely for this healing mass.

The Father went around the entire chapel and greeted everyone already sitting. He asked the woman next to me if they came with me to which we both replied, no, we’ve just met.

There were special readings that were incredibly moving. There wasn’t so much a homily as an encouragement to rely on G-d and to trust that all will be well. He quoted that from Julian of Norwich, and I found the simple words a necessary mantra for the rest of my week:

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well”

It didn’t take long that I discovered why we were seated in alternating rows. That way, we didn’t need to leave our seats to receive the anointing and the Eucharist. It was a very kind gesture for so many of the attendees would have had trouble processing to the altar for the traditional communion.

First, one Father came through the aisle in front of us. He anointed our foreheads with the cross (similar to receiving ashes) and then also the palms of our hands. He spoke quietly and despite saying the same blessing to everyone, it sounded personal and more meaningful than I’d expected.

I didn’t feel better per se, although of course, I hadn’t expected to, but I did feel as if I’d received a shield; an additional protection, not only for the illness, but for the ability to make the decisions to move towards wellness.

After everyone was anointed and after the Eucharist was prepared, the second Father came to our side to give us the body of Christ with a Eucharistic minister following with the blood. I received a large pizza shaped piece and I carefully broke it, ate a piece, broke it again, ate a second piece, and placed the last piece on my tongue when I was offered the cup. I like to keep a bit of host in my mouth and swirl the wine with it. There’s no real reason for this – the host practically melts on your tongue, but I think, for me, there is something sacred about combining the body and blood and as it glides down my throat, there is a warm feeling. It is not a burning, but it remains and fades slowly as I meditate or pray while the host is replaced in the tabernacle.

After this, we all walked over the parish center together, steadying non-cane arms, pushing wheelchairs, holding doors open and lending a hand wherever needed. At first, I sat alone as I usually do when I know no one, but Anne Marie, the woman who was randomly put next to me for the mass came over and invited me to their table. I was glad for the company and even gladder that they were strangers. It made the day that much more distinct from the regular daily mass.

It was really a beautiful experience and if I need a boost of strength to carry on with my health decisions and getting well, I can think back on this day and reflect on it.

I have comfort in the prayers, in the fellowship of those of us joining together to combine our strengths and share them. It was very encouraging and I will rely on it in the upcoming months to support me in the trying times that are ahead.

Rec – Mental Health Resources

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First and foremost, if you are in immediate danger to yourself or others, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

After my best friend, this was the second number in my speed dial directly after my diagnosis. My doctor told me that the medicine would help, but first, I would feel better about suicide and to be sure to have that number handy. Depression is a scary place, but it is much less scary in the light, and diagnosed and treated than hidden away or hiding from it.

Second, I think that these resources can be used successfully by all varieties of mental illness and mental health issues. We are all individuals and react differently to different stimulus. Try it, and if you don’t like it, try something else. You will find the support you need.

Some of the other resources/strategies I’ve found helpful:

1. I found wandering into church a good place to sit and contemplate. You don’t have to be a Christian to do this by the way. I knew, but it was confirmed the first several times I went during an off-hour that no one will bother you. No one will interrupt your contemplation, meditation, prayer. No one will ask you to leave and no one will ask you why you are there. It gave me a place to go when I had nowhere to go just to be, and to think.

2. Be alone in a crowd. I’ve recommended Starbucks before, and for a $2 cup of coffee you can sit and sip as long as you like in most places.

3. My Resource List (link here and on the left). There are phone numbers for depression hotlines, suicide prevention, grief support, and I hope to add more websites. Please comment with those that have helped you, and I can add them to my list. Currently, it’s exclusive to the US, but if my readers are from elsewhere in the world and want to share their resources, I will be glad to add them.

4. I get a lot out of writing therapy. It’s not necessarily a diary or journal, but all kinds of writing makes me feel alive. Is there something that you love to do? Try it again.

5. Later on this afternoon, I’ll be posting a Coping Skills Toolbox that I found online. This is an excellent resource and a positive thing you can do to help for those rough patches.

 

Good luck and my best to all of you.

 

You Clean Up Good – 8 Hygiene Tricks for People with Body Issues

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This was written by a friend of mine, and he’s given me permission to share it with you.

For whatever reason that you find it hard to clean up (one of my sporadic issues (I do have more than one) is that I have a water phobia, and the act of getting in the shower is just too much sometimes, and to be honest, that is minor compared to others’ reactions), these eight tricks and tips might be helpful.

PTSD, traumatic memories, abuse, scars, eating disorders, phobias, delusions, anxiety, body image issues, gender or other dysmorphia…there are plenty of reasons that for some people, naked is HARD.  And forced to confront your naked body directly enough to clean it is HARDER.  But life doesn’t have a lot of room for people who struggle with basic hygiene, and even if you don’t deal with other people, there is a point where if you don’t clean yourself, you become at risk for skin infections and other issues, so I thought I’d offer a few tips, some from personal experience, some from my therapist because this is a thing I’ve struggled with myself:

  1. Love your products.For me, it’s LUSH stuff.  I love the way that shit smells, the way it feels, the textures, the colors, everything.  Even the company policies and marketing.  I want to smell like that and put it all over me.  If you’re already struggling, you don’t need to be gagging on the smell or shuddering from the texture of dollar store body wash.  If there’s any way you can afford it or find free samples or anything, use whatever products you love most.
  2. Distance yourself.If touching your body bothers you, use a loofa, a puff, or a brush instead of your bare hand or a thin cloth or mitt.
  3. Turn the lights off and cover the mirrors.It may seem silly, but sometimes just not seeing can help.  If you can’t do it in the dark or if total dark freaks you out, try a candle (outside the shower) or nightlight. Mirrors should be self explanatory, especially because bathroom light is often very unflattering.
  4. Don’t tempt yourself.If you have a history of or urges towards self harm, don’t have razors, scrubs, or harsh sponges/scrubbers in the shower or in easy reach after.
  5. Distract yourself.Get a waterproof case for your phone.  Sing in the shower.  Draw on the wall with soap crayons.  Draw on YOU with soap crayons.  Have an audiobook.  Use the time to drill yourself on trivia, prep for a test, or work on that thing you’re writing.  Try to remember the alphabet backwards in another language.
  6. Ink up.If you can and are so inclined, consider getting one or more tattoos.  They can give you a real sense of positive ownership of your body, and you can focus on the art and its meaning when you see yourself naked rather than paying attention to the canvas.
  7. Set a timer.  Things are often a billion times more endurable if you know when they’ll end, having to rush can sometimes help keep you from dwelling on emotions, and it helps prevent zoning out and getting the shitty surprise when the hot water runs out.
  8. Make it necessary.  Paint on yourself or sharpie on yourself.  Pour on something with a gross texture like lube or vegetable oil.  Put paint in your hair.  The focus on getting ____ off can help, and it makes it harder to keep finding reasons to not.

Sometimes, though it’s not going to happen.  So consider a dry shampoo or dry body wash, a quick change of clothes, some extra deodorant, a spritz of body spray, some powder, and try again tomorrow.  You’re not a failure because today didn’t happen, and succeeding tomorrow is not lessened by today.

And if you do it, reward yourself.  You deserve it.  You did the thing and it was a hard thing, and that’s awesome.

 

Source: Andrew Blake (http://andythanfiction.tumblr.com/post/92761622197/you-clean-up-good-8-hygiene-tricks-for-people-with)

REPOST: Breakdown

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[Note: I’m reposting this from January. Recently, I was discussing this and the breakdown occurred one year ago last week. I’m also going to be posting some mental health issues and coping as the week goes on, and I thought I would include this again.]

Source: http://wp.me/p2JuBV-bT

It’s been more than three months, and it still makes my heart beat faster and my pulse quicken; it is not an eventually-formed-fond memory like driving in Wales became and I’m not sure that it ever will be. It is anxiety driven, terror induced shakes.

I don’t know what led to my being so upset. It was probably a perfect storm of events that lined up in a row just so, and I was too busy putting off my anxiety to notice that it was creeping back up on me. It took more than three weeks after to finally reach a semblance of normal anxiety, and then it crept back up into a bad place again. It did slowly come back down, but it was not easy, and it is especially never easy when I’m hyperaware of what is going on inside my head and my emotions and my emotional state, and my best friend is busy, and I can’t afford therapy sooner than every three to four weeks. This could easily turn into an essay on the health care system and money, but I will stick with the breakdown; my collapse; my I-really-don’t-know-what-to-call-it other than badbadbadbad.

There was the misunderstanding between my best friend and myself that we didn’t even realize until a week later. We were answering questions not asked and it was a complete disaster on both our ends.

There was the misunderstanding about my travel plans and a delay that wasn’t a delay that set off a series of hysterical tears.

There were people making plans around me for me and I couldn’t express my disagreement without sounding like a bratty child until finally I broke.

And boy did I break.

I always listen.

I never argue.

My mantra is usually, “Okay, what do you need?” or something similar.

I accept. I do what I should. I do what’s expected. I’m reasonable.

I talk myself out of things constantly to do what works for everyone else.

It wasn’t until I began shouting at the phone, “YOU’RE NOT LISTENING TO ME! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! I CAN’T! I CAN’T DO IT TONIGHT! I will do it tomorrow. I can do it tomorrow,” and it was clear there was something more than me being difficult. I was crying and doing that hiccupping thing that you do when you’re five and can’t stop crying, and there was a kind of stunned silence on the other end as the scope of what I was feeling was expressed so overwhelmingly.

Another arrangement was made.

I didn’t like the new arrangement. It put too many people out, but I would accept it. What else could I do? It was a sensible solution and I could handle it I told myself.

Anyway, it didn’t matter; I would handle it. I would be as reasonable as the solution.

I thought.

By the time I arrived I was alternating between being numb and being upset, and nearly always on the verge of tears. There was another new plan, but I didn’t care. I was too numb to care at this point. I knew I would be taken care of and I didn’t care about anything else.

I was on edge and every look, every whisper, every motion out of eyeshot made me startle. I was afraid to speak. I didn’t know whether to apologize or hide in the bathroom or shout at the world. I stayed quiet, fearful that so many of my friends were angry with me. It was so hard; I felt as though I were being watched and judged, and for the most part that probably wasn’t true, but it was not an easy feeling trying to deal with my own emotional breakdown – and what else could this be? – and worrying about what others were thinking and knowing how I’d failed at getting along and just doing what I was supposed to.

I had held it together all week, and on this last day, I couldn’t hold it together, not even for just a few more hours. I wished I could just suck it up and do the one thing I was asked to do.

And I truly couldn’t do it. It was such a simple thing. I’d been doing it for twenty-five years, and I couldn’t make myself do it now. This was the one thing, the final straw, and it was too much, and even I didn’t know that until something inside took over my voice earlier in the evening. I didn’t think I’d ever fallen apart like this, certainly not with so many hearing and knowing and assuming things, and I was embarrassed as much as anything else.

The one person I was afraid to see smiled at me. It was the kind, tired look of it’s-going-to-be-alright-I-promise, and for a second I thought they were mad at me, but it didn’t matter. We’d be okay; if not today then another day, but that look was the first quasi-hug of comfort until they crossed the room and hugged me tightly with that comforting feeling of never letting go. How I didn’t begin to cry, I honestly don’t know. I was hugged tightly and I buried my face in their shoulder and neck and I held on as if my life depended on it, and in that moment it did.

There were more hugs and hand holds, and shoulders squeezed and smiles to keep me going until the next time which would be who knows when, but it was okay.

I would be okay.

There was a solution, and people were taking care of me and that was what I needed.

I love my friends. Without them, I am nothing. We are all a reflection of one another. We reflect and complement and we fit like puzzle pieces on an enormous board and when they’re not around or available, it takes a toll. I get more paranoid, I get more sensitive, I feel like no one likes me anymore, that I can’t ask for what I need, and the more I stretch out, the further away they are, and I can’t touch them and then I’m falling.

I’ve always likened depression and anxiety to alcoholism. It never truly goes away, no matter how many drugs, how many therapy sessions – it is always there somewhere, and we cope. And sometimes, we have relapses, and we need a reminder of why it’s important to be aware of our mental state, our mental health, and we check in with our sponsor, the one person who’s been there and who we trust to guide us out of the darkness, who always has what we need.

At the same time that we are being led out of the darkness, sometimes we are called upon to be someone else’s sponsor and lead someone else to their light. It doesn’t mean that we’re perfect or that we’re ‘cured’, but it means that we are all on our journeys and when we intersect, we need to look both ways and help each other cross the road.

We have that hand in the dark to hold, the whisper in our ear, and ultimately it will be all right.