Fighting The Machine

Hello, friends! Thanks a million for stopping by again. I found these musings I wrote not quite a year ago. Reading over them, I see again how far I've come in the last few months, and I am grateful:

On a visit with my parents recently, it hit me with a mixture of astonishment and disappointment how much this disorder has changed me. I have become inflexible, easily thrown off by the unfamiliar; whereas change and newness used to thrill me. I miss my old self--my parents’ daughter. They say my lily reminds them of me: her exuberance for adventure, her joy in the out-of-doors, the way she loves to play in the mud! None of those parts of myself have survived the illness.

I’ve become stiff and proper, even stern--a perfect old matron. I, who Pan-like swore never to grow up. I, who feel underneath it all not a day over 16, but trapped, not so much in an older body but an old old mind--a mind knowing too much of fear, and not enough, snagged on its gears and circuits of anxiety and responsibility: circuits that never end or slow down.

Learning new pathways, ways to get off or short-circuit the typical thought patterns, is a slow and awkward re-wiring. The fear-gears on the other hand snapped so easily into place, as if pre-fitted to my brain. Or was it my brain that was pre-fitted to them? What tripped the wire for the waiting blazes of terror? What were the triggers, where are the buttons, and how can I prevent them from being pressed?

Circuits, gears, levers, buttons; machinery--it’s a cold, ugly metaphor for the human brain. But sometimes I do feel so cold. Frozen, paralyzed by the overwhelm of decision-making.

It doesn’t seem fair. Of course it isn’t, to be so prone to these vicious cycles of worry, this clogged-gear paralysis, but “it is what it is” as my psychologist says. The reality I must learn to live within. I pray for the grace to learn well. Yes, grace. God’s grace--more than sufficient to compensate for any “unfairness”. Ah! The grace of God’s unfairness! My only hope after all: that God would not treat this sinner fairly.

The Power of Story

Whatever I may think of my own talents as a writer, I am a storyteller and so are you. And the stories we tell have incredible power over us. I’m thinking specifically of the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, inside our heads. The importance we ascribe to the various parts of these stories can change the direction of the rest of our life stories.

Selective Story-Telling:

As an example, consider the story I told about the day I drank the orange juice and made a terrible vow (link here). I did not include (and I neglected to include every time I told it to myself, which I did hundreds of times) that earlier that day I’d dined at a restaurant and avoided the pretty little complimentary appies with deli meats, because I was pregnant. At this high-class restaurant in a tourist resort, I had insisted on bottled water, for the sake of the baby. That morning, I had washed my fruit in a bleach solution, then thoroughly rinsed it, because that was ‘best practice’ for this part of the world. I had gone for a run on the beach with my best friend, and stifled my competitive spirit to let her go on without me at the 5-K mark, because I didn’t want to overdo it for the sake of the baby. Every night that visit, my friend and I had sung “Jesus Loves Me” to my baby, at my request, because I had read that she had recently developed tiny ear buds. I left out those parts of the story, every single time.

Over and over I told myself stories of my own incompetence, stupidity and negligence. I told myself stories in which I could never be forgiven. I told myself dark stories with terrible endings that ought to serve as lessons to much better mothers.

I told myself such stories until I no longer trusted myself. What reputation could possibly survive such a harshly selective story-teller? I stopped believing my memory and even my spatial perception.

A New Narrator

It took a while, but I have changed the way I tell myself stories. My new stories are about the same person and the same events, but I have fired my old narrator! My new inner-narrator is much kinder; she tells me stories about a “good enough” mom who is competent in most situations, and knows how and when to ask for help. Her memory, intellect and intuition are reliable, and have never yet led her too far wrong. She makes mistakes, and falls, and is strong enough to get back up again. She lives by grace and serves as an example for others who fall and fear the endings of their own dark stories.

My new narrator compares motherhood to astrophysics or rocket science, and has me saying it with pride: “I’m a mom! It’s no big deal. I’m really good at it.”

This new narrator tells and re-tells the moments of joy and peace and victory, the times when lily and I enjoy each other, the snuggles and kisses and “I love you’s” and games on the floor and laughing runs in the fields. This narrator remembers best the times lily’s accomplishments blow my mind and I allow myself to admit that I had a part in that. And the times lily's defiance and disobedience blow my mind but I keep my temper and deal with the situation in a constructive, thoughtful way.

My narrator insists that, despite all kinds of failings and moments of seemingly total disaster, I am a good enough mom, and that is great.

So what stories are you telling yourself? What are you leaving out? Is it time to start learning to be a kinder narrator?

Limp--a poem, by J

I've been working up the courage to try out a poem on my readers. So, here we go!

Limp

When you are in my kitchen,
Love,

Use the black and white dishrag;

The thin one, the one that’s

Greying to threadbare places

That I have squeezed and rung and twisted

‘Til it wept gushings of warm suds

And all my panic ran down

The grating scruff of your cheeks.

Use it because I have rung pieces of myself

Into the very fabric.

Use it because the grime

Runs quick through those bare places

And with it the guilt

And the fear.

It must run quick because

I am eager to please, and

You are in a hurry, and

Efficiency is essential.

I am glad my favorite dishcloth

Has not outlived its usefulness.

Just Mediocre

First off, I wanted to thank you, dear readers. I was so encouraged by the response to my previous post. Thank you so much to those of you who read, commented and shared it with others. I am pumped!

I’ve been planning a blog series on recovery for a while now, so I plan to revisit some of the tips I shared in that post. It would help me a ton if you would leave comments here on what you would like to read about, questions, or which tips interest or challenge you the most. Remember, Christie and I screen every comment before publishing it, so you can ask to remain anonymous.

I also wanted to clarify that not all of these tips will be right for you. Everyone needs their own mental health “regimen” to fit their lifestyle, just as physical exercise needs to be tailored to every individual. And just as someone who has never exercised before needs to start slow, the same goes for these tips. I would suggest picking just one or two to work on at a time. And again, always remember to BE KIND to yourself. If you are hard on yourself, keeping track of how you ‘measure up’ with habits like exercise and getting enough sunlight, you are defeating the purpose. So please, please be kind to yourself.

OCD and anxiety disorders often go along with a perfectionist personality (not that all perfectionists have OCD, or that if you are not a perfectionist you will not develop OCD, but there is a trend), and people with OCD can become obsessed with doing their therapy “perfectly.” It is a tricky paradox to navigate, but I think the key is to emphasize showing yourself grace and kindness.

You’ll notice a theme here and throughout this blog: grace. If you don’t show grace to others, you won’t have deep, satisfying relationships. And if you don’t show yourself grace, you won’t be able to maintain any level of mental health.

One of the most important things I learned during recovery I learned from a fellow patient in a group therapy setting. She was a first-time mom like me, and like me she struggled with perfectionist tendencies. She spoke up in group about how she was learning that being a “good enough” mom is actually being a great mom. Why? Because shooting for great or “perfect” is inaccessible and unsustainable. You become hard on yourself and miserable. Your children will see your standard for yourself, assume it is your standard for them as well, and be hard on themselves and miserable. Just as we need to model healthy eating and exercise habits for our children, we need to model healthy mental habits as well. Not to mention if you as a mother are unhappy and stressed, you will not be able to be present and available to your children. It’s the whole “put your mask on first” basic principle of self-care. Trying to do a perfect job in one area of life ends up costing too much in other, often more important, areas. It’s better to aim for and be happy with “good enough.”

So come on, Moms! It’s time to celebrate mediocrity! Time to be just “good enough,” and realize that that is just great.

J's Top 7 Tips For Staying Mentally Healthy

Usain Bolt reportedly fuels the world’s fastest body on a diet of mainly chicken nuggets and other fast food. Some people smoke and drink and never exercise a day in their life and live to be a hundred, while others who train hard and eat sensibly end up with high blood pressure--or worse--in their thirties. Some people seem to maintain good mental health with no apparent effort. Others of us really have to work for it.

I am one of those who has to “work out” hard to maintain mental health. So here is my regimen for staying in good mental shape:

1. Physical exercise. Our minds are thoroughly intertwined into our bodies, so good mental health needs good physical health. I have started many workouts feeling depressed, but have finished very few while still in a bad mood. It’s pretty much a fool-proof mood-lifter. Regular exercise has been shown to improve self-esteem, decrease stress, and regulate blood sugar levels. Exercise is also an important part of good sleep hygiene (see number 2, below!)
2. Sleep! It is one of the best medicines for the brain; in fact, the brain actually heals itself during sleep. Sleep also promotes and cements learning, which is particularly critical during periods of intense therapy while you re-learn and re-direct thinking patterns.
3. Cut yourself yards and yards of slack. Chronic illnesses always come with their set of restrictions on energy, motivation and strength. Our culture disproportionately values busyness and productivity. Your worth is not determined by how much you can get done in a day! Know your limits, know your priorities, and choose accordingly how to invest your energy. Then be unapologetic--to others and to yourself--about those choices. When your lack of energy chooses for you, be unapologetic about unscheduled breaks.
4. Get sunlight or light therapy. A lot of people insist on the importance of getting outside for fresh air. I have no doubt it is critical for some people, and have found the outdoors to lift my spirits sometimes as well. However, I actually get a lot more pleasure and stress relief from curling up inside with a cup of tea and a book, than from a walk outside. Outdoor pursuits are also complicated by my disorder--a lot of my fears are around going outside. Now, I do NOT advocate staying indoors and never challenging those fears. On the contrary, challenging my fears has been my door to recovery. But I can’t string myself taut on a line of fear all the time and remain mentally healthy! There are days when I just need to stay in my comfort zone and regain strength for the next round of fear-challenging. But I do find that it is important to get sunlight. I live far enough up my hemisphere however that for much of the year, even if I did spend every daylight hour outside, it still would not be sufficient sunlight for my brain chemistry. So I have a light therapy lamp. I use it mainly in the winter months, but it is helpful all year long.
5. Breathe. There is so much power in just breathing. Several times throughout the day I try to stop and focus only on breathing. It is tremendously calming. It’s my reset button.
6. Re-focus. There is so much involved in this idea, and no way I can sum it up in a single post, but essentially if a particular thought is dragging you down or causing severe emotional pain, it is time to let it go. Thoughts just aren’t worth suffering for. Seriously, it is just a thought. Thoughts that “aren’t working” need to be challenged--often repeatedly--and redirected. You may need help with identifying and challenging problematic thought patterns. This is why therapy is so critical. Now that I know where my mind tends to go and which problematic patterns I am most prone to, I am ready with an arsenal of re-directing thoughts to counter the destructive ones.
7. Treat yourself like a friend. When your self-talk turns dark, think about what you would say to a friend who was telling themselves things like that. Now practice looking in the mirror and being a friend to yourself. There is no reason on earth (or in heaven!) that you shouldn’t treat yourself as well as you treat your friends.

Transition's in the Air--J

It’s been awhile since I’ve had time to work on a post. I’ve been writing, but in spurts. Life has moved from one thing to another at mom-on-caffeine speed since we moved in November. Travels, holidays, family get-togethers, not to mention Christmas and a fourth birthday for one very special lily-child!

I will see my psychiatrist soon, and was just beginning to concoct an answer to her predictable question, how are you doing. Then I realized: no concoction necessary; the straight-up truth:  I am doing fantastic. I am generally happy and relaxed. I am less irritable. I have motivation and energy--feelings so new to me that I wouldn’t have recognized them if they hadn’t reintroduced themselves so gradually. Why, I do believe I am better than ever before in my entire adolescent through to adult life. I’ve even seen changes in my thinking happen without a ton of ERP: a thrilling realization, because up until now, I have had to fight with teeth gritted for every ounce of brain-shift. I am doing fantastic.

I am in the process of editing some old posts I never published. It has been enlightening and encouraging. I found one post I wrote about this time last year, reflecting on relapse, and it reminded me of how I felt after our recent move in November. Come to think again, the move was a more significant transition than the ones I’ve described below, and my ‘relapse’ around the move was shorter and not nearly as serious as the one I experienced at the time of this post. I hope it might be helpful just to know that relapses do happen, and they do get easier and less world-shaking.

* * * * * * * * *

I’ve been struggling. I thought it might help for me to write down the reasons I’ve identified for this relapse. Could any of these explain something for you? Whatever your struggle and whatever the factors that brought it on, be assured, be validated: your body and your brain have their reasons!

The first reason, probably the most obvious, is that my meds have decreased. I’ve been on the highest dose of Prozac recommended since partway through my pregnancy, about three and a half years ago now. My psychiatrist thought it would be a good idea to get back to my pre-pregnancy dose. I’m there now! But weaning down this medication comes with a nasty side-effect: brain shivers. They’re hard to describe. Like being dizzy, but different again. You move your head, and even though your vision stays clear, you feel like you left your head behind you. It’s similar to the stomach sensation when you ride one of those dropping fair rides--like you left your stomach (in this case your brain) up in the air. Maybe somebody else would find that fun? But I’ve always been a wimp when it comes to fair rides. Anyway, I had a few days of that, and extra fatigue, and I was a bit teary, but I think the worst of it is over. Still, I’m sure the medication decrease on its own could account for this bit of a relapse I’m experiencing now. It is weird to discover how dependent I am on these meds. I feel so normal when I’m on them that they begin to seem redundant. It would be easy, if I didn’t understand a bit about how the meds work, to think, Well, I’m better now, I don’t need these pills anymore. But if I don’t take them, then I know.

In addition to the change in meds, there have been a lot of changes in our lives. All relatively insignificant changes on their own, but put them together and couple them with a brain suffering from OCD, and they make for an uphill slog. First, I started the new job I wrote about here. The time came to toilet train Lily. Our fish died.  A change of seasons is upon us, which always means more illness. Jem has been ill almost continuously for the last two months, and I always feel like I am fighting off something. Lily-girl has had three or four bouts of illness (all blurred together) that involved fever and sleepless nights.

I noticed something else dreaded about season changes: I start worrying about new ways to contact germs. With the arrival of winter, I worry about “smearing” germs through the sleeves of my coat when I put it on. I worry about touching my hair when I put on my hat. But just as soon as I get a handle on the challenges winter presents to my OCD brain, spring comes along and now I have new ways to worry: about not having those gloves that provided a convenient barrier between my hands and the germy world. That I can’t just take all the out-of-the-house germs off with my coat when I get home. I worry that the germs are no longer frozen, and that cats are back outside pooping in gardens. Does anyone else worry about these things? No. Should I worry? NO. Can I help it? Not really. Not for a while anyway, until I have practiced going out without my coat and not washing my arms when I come back inside.

Then there’s toilet training. Don’t even get me started--never mind, I’m started. I have honestly been dreading this stage ever since she was born. It takes all my courage to take my pristine lily-baby into those filthy public restrooms. Plus, her skinny legs don’t fit on most toilet seats--they slip in between the gap and she ends up sitting on the rim of the toilet instead of the seat. AaUAurRgh! The first time that happened, I obsessed about it for days, not sure whether it would be safer to let the germs stay dry on her legs, or to risk reactivating them in the bathtub. I sound insane even to myself right now. I think I’ll just keep her in diapers until she’s fourteen.

And then my new little fish buddy died. I’d sort of been expecting it, and didn’t think I would find it so traumatic. But when I saw him nose-down in the gravel, my stomach sank to my toes, and when I jiggled the bowl and saw his body’s involuntary sway, I felt dizzy, disoriented, like I was the one upside-down. I screamed like a girl. (I am a girl. I mean, I screamed like a little girl.)

Aside from grief and guilt (I figured I probably hadn’t changed his water often enough--so, another exercise in giving myself grace), I was very anxious about what he might have died from, and whether those germs could affect us. When Jem dumped him down the toilet, I was worried about splashing, and about what Jem touched before he washed his hands… It was really hard to get my mind off of ”fish germs” that night.

So there you have it. Changes in meds really do affect me big time. And so do little life changes that probably shouldn’t be a big deal. Now that I’ve thought through all the factors, I’m not worried about his little set-back. I know that it might take me a little longer to get settled after change, but I will, and I will have gained some resilience by pushing through.

Owning My Voice

Note: I am far too late in posting this. It doesn’t leave you with much time to do anything about it, and I apologize. But I do hope you will read and consider what part you might want to have in this important cause.

Holiday Hustle

J here. It's been a while since I’ve posted. Last month we made the move from our inner city apartment to a basement suite closer to work and church. Two weeks later we flew to California to visit relatives. We just got back from that, and suddenly Christmas was upon us. So I am grabbing a few moments for writing, between unpacking and decorating and list pondering.

What I want to write about today is a bit off topic for this blog. I won’t be dealing with a mental health issue per se, but I will draw a link for you, and I don’t think anyone will be upset with me for wandering a bit from the central point of this blog. (Right?) ;-)

But... it's still ERP

This month I have taken on an unusual ERP challenge. For those of you who don’t know, Exposure Response Prevention or ERP is basically the treatment for OCD, and it sucks. I have written a little about it in the past, and plan to write a more in-depth post as part of a recovery series in the future. Since this post isn’t really meant to be about my own mental health issues, I’ll just say very briefly that ERP is basically facing your fears.

My ERP this month involves restricting my wardrobe to just two dresses. OK, you say, that sounds a bit difficult, especially in the dead of winter in Canada, but scary? What’s so scary about that? Well, I have this admittedly weird compulsion to only re-wear a piece between washings after it’s been hanging in my closet for at least two days. I figure that gives the germs a good chance to die! It keeps my anxiety manageable, and cuts down on the laundry I do. But it’s ridiculous, and I know it. So this month, I am challenging that fear. I’ve even worn the same dress two days in a row, pulling it over my head and breathing slowly to calm my pounding heart, reminding myself that the germs probably aren’t dangerous, I have an immune system, it’s dry and they probably won’t transfer to my hair, my face, my lips.... And it is for a good cause.

The Dressember Campaign

The cause?

I am excited to announce that this year I am participating in the global Dressember campaign: an advocacy movement seeking to draw attention to the issue of modern human trafficking. It may be shocking to consider that slavery is just as rampant today as it was a hundred years ago, probably even more so. There are a lot of different estimates, but at least 20 million people live in slavery worldwide. Nor is it something that happens only overseas. Thousands of people are sold in Canada and the United States each year, mostly in the sex trade, but also for farm or factory work, or in smuggling rings.. It is truly a global issue. While it is not a gender issue--both male and female slaves are sold at about the same rate--some of the most horrific human rights abuses occur against women, since they are sold in overwhelming numbers in the sex trade.

The symbol:

Dressember uses a symbol of femininity--a dress--to draw attention to those whose femininity has been ravaged and exploited.

The industry:

In addition, the fashion industry is strongly implicated in human exploitation. Many textile and fashion companies rely on cheap overseas labor, and exploit their workers’ desperation by subjecting them to dangerous working conditions and impossible situations of job insecurity.

I have long been passionate about the issue of modern-day slavery, especially as it relates to the fashion industry. For several years I lived with the knowledge that many of my “affordable” (read: cheap) fashion choices were contributing to exploitation and potentially even outright slavery. I started looking for alternatives, and discovered an exciting online community of people committed to ethical consumerism. I found that the best alternatives were also the cheapest: second-hand. Buying second-hand not only keeps garments out of landfills, but most thrift stores are not-for-profit and exist to support local and global charities. When it comes to items not available second-hand, or things I would be uncomfortable purchasing from a thrift shop (like underwear), it does get expensive. But I believe that if I don’t pay the cost for my fashion choices, someone else will have to, and the cost they pay just might be their freedom.

The choice:

So this year, for every day of December, I have been limiting myself to a choice between just two dresses, sacrificing  a tiny bit of my freedom to restore real freedom to others. The goal is to raise money for IJM (International Justice Mission) and A21, both wonderful non-profit organizations that work with local justice systems and police to target slave traders and release slaves.

The dresses!

The dresses I chose are simple and un-fussy. Neither is representative of fast-fashion: one was a gift from a dear friend that I’ve had for about 7 years; the other, my LBD, I scored at a thrift store about 5 years ago.

   

Neither is very warm, so I'll really be layering up!

Understanding and Owning

We need to advocate for slaves because they have no voice of their own. If you presently or ever have struggled with mental illness, you know what it is like to have no voice. Depression can sap all your energy, so everything is focused on survival and speaking out is an extra that you just can’t afford. There is always the possibility of rejection, of misunderstanding, of more pain on top of the pain that is already unbearable. When the energy is there, there is the nagging, often well-substantiated suspicion that no-one will listen to you anyway. Because of your diagnosis, they’ll dismiss what you have to say. Of course he has complaints--he’s depressed, and always negative. Or: She doesn’t know what she’s talking about--she’s paranoid!

Now that I’ve recovered somewhat, I am rediscovering my voice. I have energy back, and people are actually listening to me again (I'm not saying they should not have listened to me before. I am pointing out that human nature and social perceptions of mental illness make loss of voice a reality for many who suffer with mental illness). I am also discovering a passion for using the voice I have to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. That is why I write this blog. And for the same reason, I am wearing these two dresses throughout the month of December, and speaking up for those who don't have the freedom even to speak.

I'm getting close to my fundraising goal, but I do still have a way to go and only a few days to get there! As a fun little incentive and personal touch, I am offering a set of beautiful handmade greeting cards to the donor who contributes the largest amount this week. I will mail them to the winner in the new year! To help me reach my campaign goal, click here:

support.dressemberfoundation.org/sokiruth 

To find out more about the campaign, go to the official Dressember website here:

http://www.dressember.org/

You can also read more about IJM and A21:

https://www.ijm.org/

https://www.a21.org/