Eagle Born To Fly, Sharon Matthies

Welcome Eagle - I think you are going to offer much to learn and understand this month!

Question - if you think a friend might be suffering from depression - how can you best help them and suport them? Is there a balance between trying to be supportive and knowing you have to let go - you can't do anything anymore?

Thanks Evie. That's a difficult question, especially about figuring out the balance between being supportive and knowing when it's time to let go. Again, I'm not an expert and don't pretend to know the best answers here. But I'll share what I know from my own experience.

When you think a friend might be suffering from depression, the most important thing to do first is to make sure they're safe. If there's any inkling whatsoever that they might be suicidal, get them to a hospital. If they won't go voluntarily, call 911 or someone you know can help. Let the professionals determine if the person needs professional intervention or if the suicide threat is just their way of "looking for attention". I wouldn't suggest that you take that decision on yourself.

But many depressed people don't become suicidal, so let's talk about how to help those ones. I would say that as a friend or loved one, the best way to support someone who's depressed is three-fold:

1. Accept that this is an illness and they will NOT be able to "snap out of it" on their own. It may take a long time (3 years for me the first time around) and may be a long, slow, arduous climb out of that darkness. So if you really want to help, be clear that you may become a long-term "companion-along-the-way" for them.

2. Listen, care, and commiserate - but also dare to challenge their negative self-talk with the truth that they ARE loved and worthwhile. This might seem futile, that they can't hear it, and terribly frustrating at times, but trust me, I YEARNED to hear those words, and they did sink in to the core of my being. They might not have seemed to help at the time, but when I was ready to start climbing out of that hellhole, those words came back to be a light in my darkness and helped me pull myself out.

3. Don't let yourself get dragged into the darkness. Know your limitations, and balance the time you spend with that person against time spent in uplifting, happier situations with fun-to-be-with people, people you can relax with.

It was ALWAYS one of my greatest fears that I would drag somebody down with me. The people who helped me the most were the ones I KNEW would pull back when they needed to, because I knew they would not let me drag them into the quicksand with me. I knew they were pulling back so that they would have more care and resources to help me later.

You can compare someone who's profoundly depressed to someone who's drowning...the desperation to feel better can make the depressed person cling to their lifelines for dear life...it was my temptation to do so. But as sick as I was, I was still aware of the danger of taking someone down with me. In some ways that hampered me...I wouldn't allow people to help me because of that fear. Thus the relief of having people around me who knew when to let me go and pull back to catch their own breath.

You have to know your limits and draw the line. And you have to be aware that there is some responsibility on the depressed person's part to help themselves, specifically by seeking professional help (therapy) and medications. As time progresses and you see no effort on their part to accept help and you feel your own self beginning to drown, you must pull yourself out of that situation for awhile and take care of yourself. That might not always be possible, but do as much as you can to protect your own health. That's hard for caring people to hear, but it's essential that you not let yourself get so dragged into the darkness that you can't get yourself out.

One thing I'd like to suggest here is that people who have never been depressed feel free to ask the kind of questions about depression that they've always wanted to ask, but were always afraid to for fear of appearing to be uncaring or "ignorant", (excuse the word, but it's probably the one that fits the best here).

There is a lot of honest confusion and misinformation out there about depression. Now's your chance to ask your "why's" without worrying about appearances. You can PM them to me if that's more comfortable, and I'll try to answer them here (without revealing any identities for the PM'd questions) from the perspective of someone who's lived those "why's".

Remember though, that I'm not a doctor and will not be able to answer specific medical questions. My approach will be from an "inside perspective" of personal experience.

[ September 02, 2005, 05:06 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Here's a couple of questions:

What do you think brought on your initial depression?

Was the onset sudden or over time?

Were you clinically depressed (meaning you were depressed regardless of the situation) or were you situationally depressed, (meaning you were depressed as a result of a bad situation)

How did you know you were depressed as opposed to blue?

How long did it last?

How did you know you were recovering?

Was there a specific incident that started the recovery?

That should keep you busy typing for a while.

smile

Just in case there's a run on questions and discussion here , I want to mention that I won't be able to get online as much over the weekend. So it could take longer than usual for you to get a response to any new posts.

smile, great questions. I've read Sharon's book and I'd have to say she addresses all of them in it. Pretty cool, huh? Smile, do you do interviews? You should. Great questions for this topic.

SELF OSTRACISM

If you’ve ever suffered from depression, mental illness or low self-esteem, you know what I mean by self ostracism. This is another difficult symptom of depression that I personally struggle with every time I go through a bout of depression. Again, it begins very insidiously, with whispers in the brain that convince me that everyone would be better off if I just crept into a hole somewhere and disappeared. So I begin to make myself “invisible”. I push people away, make excuses not to go out to social gatherings and gradually stop going out altogether.

The problem with self-ostracism is that it’s very difficult to come back out. Over and over again, I emerge from my self-imprisonment to find that most of my friends have given up on me, not because they didn’t care, but because they just didn’t understand. Many friendships are lost forever, but some have returned once I’ve explained the mangled thinking behind that self-ostracism.

So what is behind that urge to hide ourselves away, to banish ourselves from society? Again, I’m only speaking from my own experience, and have come up with four rationales, or thinking patterns, behind my own disappearance:

1. SHAME – Normally I’m a strong, self-sufficient, intelligent woman. Depression reduces me to a writhing mass of weeping agony. I cry if someone looks at me the wrong way. I sob uncontrollably in the middle of lineup in the store over the most insignificant problem. I’m overwhelmed by an inexplicable sadness, my mind is full of dark thoughts, I am unable to see any positive spin on anything, and am powerless against the tide of darkness that’s taking over my mind. I’m deeply ashamed to be in this condition and simply don’t want anyone to see me like this.

2. GUILT – My life is good. I have a great husband and a beautiful life. We’re not rich, but we’re not hungry. We travel. I have everything I could ever want out of life. And still I suffer from this overwhelming sadness and feeling of failure. It doesn’t make sense to me (because I forget that it’s a bona fide illness!) and so I feel guilty for feeling so sad when my life is so good. I feel like a total failure for not being able to “snap out of it” or find ways to get myself out of these “blues”. So I retreat in confused guilt for feeling so inept and useless.

3. INABILITY TO COPE – My own sadness becomes overwhelming. I begin to feel everybody’s pain as acutely as if it’s my own. It’s as if I’m walking around with my skin inside out. Every hurt, every wound, every sadness, every pain in the world becomes a part of me. I rage with guilt for my role in the agony in the world. I feel anger in the lineup, I feel pain in the bus, I feel EVERYTHING from everyone around me. I simply cannot cope with the tide of emotions that I feel coming at me from every direction. I have to shut down. I have to pull away because it hurts so badly. It feels like the pain is going to swallow me whole. For me, this is a huge problem when I’m depressed –very difficult to explain to anyone - and it’s probably my number one reason for withdrawing from everyone when I’m clinically depressed.

4. FEAR – Panic attacks. Fear of rejection. Heightened sensitivity to criticism. And wide open to what I call “cruelty of kind intentions”. I’m going to talk about “cruelty of kind intentions” later. But to quickly explain it, I’ll use one example from my own experience. I’ve been told too many times that I’m depressed because I don’t pray enough. That’s a kindly intentioned bit of advice from well-meaning people, but it’s actually a very cruel thing to say to someone who’s depressed. It devastated me beyond description to hear that the God whom I had loved so deeply (and believed for so long that He loved me unconditionally) might be using this horrible depression to punish me for not praying enough. IT’S NOT TRUE. God doesn’t work that way. And we’ll talk about that later. But in the depths of my despair and depression, I couldn’t remember the Truth. So I believed those words. My memory of that experience now makes me very afraid to be in contact with people when I’m depressed, for fear of being hit with more of that inadvertent-but-nevertheless-painful “cruelty of kind intentions”.

This has been another long post, so I’ll leave it at this for now. Maybe you recognize some of these thought patterns in your own self. Maybe you know someone who’s depressed who has ostracized him/herself. Maybe this will give you a glimpse into the “why” behind that disappearing act.

[ September 03, 2005, 11:13 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

OMG, Sharon, Self-ostracism hits so close to home. I liken it to an enforceable agoraphobia. I shut myself off completely from my friends, my activities, everything. It's like going through a long illness with a communicable disease. You can't be with anyone. Once you're "cured" of the communicable disease (I know I shouldn't use that word with depression but I hope you know what I mean) you can once again be among people again. Thanks for sharing your thoughts on self-ostracism.

I'm always afraid of when it's going to come back again. Being bi-polar, I know I'm cyclic. I know I'm going to go through cycles of ups and downs. They won't be as severe because I'm on meds, but I know they're coming. How should I prepare myself for those times? Should I build up a small support system with hubby and friends so that I can let them know when the cycle is coming and be prepared for their help during the low/depressed time? What kind of help can they give me?

Eagle,
This information is outstanding and opens my eyes to so many things about depression. Its healthy I think for others to have insight into the life of someone who has experienced an illness such as this, and it helps us/them to "walk a mile" so to speak. I can't thank you enough for being so thorough. I'm in middle of your book and that helps as well.

I'll be the first to admit years ago I pooh poohed the idea that someone couldn't handle life. My thought were "get over it" or "put your big girl panties on and deal with it." I was so wrong. After having close friends who were/are bi-polar and clinically depressed, I got a first-hand lesson(s) and woke up.

Of the things you mentioned that have helped you get thru it all, do you think one is more important than the other? For instance, is having a support group in place the most important?

At least thanks to you and others, people no longer walk on the other side of the sidewalk when they hear someone suffers from depression or is bi-polar!

JJ

Dear Eagle

Your beauty and heart are incomparable and the courage it took to write a book and share who you are to help others...that is couage, heart and destiny! For within your life many lives may be saved!

With love
Leigha

JawJaw, thank you for sharing such wonderful words with me. Bringing light into people's lives is what I live for. Finding out that some of my feeble ripples are actually making a difference "out there" gives me the hope and courage to keep going and not give up.

Of the things you mentioned that have helped you get thru it all, do you think one is more important than the other? For instance, is having a support group in place the most important?

It's hard to separate the Truth and Self-Knowledge/Compassion. Both have become vital for me, not only when I'm depressed, but in my day to day life. I have to continually steep myself in the knowledge that I am loved, worthwhile and have a rightful niche in the world. And I have to continually self-talk myself out of despair with my own compassion, stop beating myself up for not being "better" or especially for not being able to beat other people's expectations of me...in short, for not being perfect.

I didn't have a support group during my last breakdown. Being here in this community of sisters has reminded me again of the tremendous healing power within a network of people who care. So now it's really hard to separate "support" from the other two, because the support group affirms the Truth and the Compassion, making it easier to believe when it's harder to believe.

Still, if I had to choose one, I'd have to choose Truth (that I am loved and loveable), because that is ultimately what will give me the courage to talk myself (I like to call it "mapping myself") out of any darkness.

Leigha, there is no way I can adequately convey to you how much your words mean to me today...how my heart needed to hear your voice. Thank you.

Your welcome Eagle.

God Bless

With love
Leigha

REWIRING THE ATTIC – WHAT ARE THE LIES IN YOUR ATTIC?

We’ve talked about mangled thinking, how our thought processes becomes distorted and the negative self-talk takes over, deafening us to other possibilities.

Now I want to talk more about what I call “Rewiring the Attic”, or rewriting our inner dialogues. But before we can begin to rewire our attics, we need to acknowledge what exactly it is that needs fixing. We need to become aware of the things we are saying to ourselves deep down underneath the cacophony of noise we surround ourselves with in order to drown out those whispers.

People who suffer from depression experience a relentless onslaught of “self-talk”, most, if not all of it, self-derogatory and steeped in many years worth of self-hatred. And I’m willing to suggest that most, if not all of that self-hatred is steeped in lies that we have either been told (or sometimes misinterpreted) by parents or other significant others while growing up, or lies/stories that we have created in our own minds to explain situations that we didn’t understand at the time…and when children don’t understand frightening or confusing situations, they will often create their own reasons, usually to their own detriment.

So, let’s talk about the lies that are at the root of MY mangled thinking and negative self-talk. See if any of these sound remotely familiar…the reasons for the lies being there will differ, but the basic message of the lies probably won’t.

I heard variations of these from the time I was a very young child until I moved out of the house at 18 years old…”oh don’t go play over at __’s house, you’ll wear out the welcome mat.” “You’re a nuisance.” “Get that ugly look off your face”. “Look what you made me do (while taking a handful of pills). “No wonder nobody likes you at school”. “You’ll never fit in anywhere if you think like that.”

Now don’t those make me sound like a terrible child? That’s what I believed too. Ugly. Unwanted. Nuisance. Unloveable. Misfit. Stupid. Unacceptable. Those words were firmly etched on my being well before my 13th birthday.

And what horrible wicked things did I do to deserve those things being said to me? I asked if I could go play with my friends. I asked about my baby sister…who had died, but my 5-year-old mind didn’t understand. I wore ugly coke-bottle glasses and still had to squint up my face to see the TV. I preferred to read books and listen to music in my room instead of watching TV with my brothers (who always got to pick the shows). After taking almost two hours (no exaggeration) to do the dishes (I did dishes for the entire family of 6 all by myself every night for nine years), I left a roasting pot in the sink to soak overnight.

It took me over thirty years of struggling through undiagnosed, inexplicable chronic sadness, a major breakdown, a suicide attempt, a beautiful letter from my Dad and years of therapy to dare to challenge those words and the self-hatred that had me writhing in agony and shame for being born. And when I dared to hold those long-held beliefs up to the light of dawning Truth, I finally realized that they were all lies. But they had caused so much pain and damage all those years, it would take a lot of hard work and discipline (and faith) to undo the damage and rewire that attic. In fact, as most of you know, it's still ongoing.

If you suffer from chronic depression, there’s a really good chance that you also have ancient “lies in your attic” that are feeding your negative self-talk. You may not even be aware that they’re there. It takes courage to face them down, to believe that there’s another possibility. But until we face and name them as lies, we remain crippled by their unfettered power over us.

Enough for now…more on “Rewiring our Attics: Where do We Begin” on Tuesday…

Eagle

Your post really emphasizes just how damaging words can be - how we really need to send out words that uplift, that encourage, that show love - always.

Evie, How true, especially around children. A young child's interpretation processes can't yet filter out sarcasm and idioms, nor do they know enough about human nature to just put it down to PMS, or that Mommy's having a bad day, or all those numerous other hectic reasons why parents might say those kinds of things to their children.

Children just hear what they hear, internalize it to their detriment and, like weeds in the garden, those words begin to take over, gradually killing off the good stuff.

The words we speak out loud and the words we speak to ourselves! Both are equally important. I believe the internal words are the ground work for what comes off our tongues.

Eagle, your posts are reminding me of all the wisdom in your book. I thoroughly enjoyed getting a picture of your faith story.

Dotsie, it's so true that what we think inside of ourselves manifests itself in our behaviours, attitudes and speech. We don't always recognize that connection (as Smile puts it, the mind-body connection), but they're inseparable. I'm going to speak more on the practical aspect of that thought-behaviour connection in part 2 of this "rewiring of the attic" topic tomorrow.

As far as my faith story, that too will be coming more indepth eventually...although I'm willing to go wherever the questions lead me.

I suppose this could come across wrong, but my own faith story constantly amazes me too. It really hit home while struggling through my 2002 breakdown how incredibly faithful and awesome God has been in my life since early childhood...I'm sure those faith experiences (like the dreams) are the only reason I survived intact for so long. It's as if God was personally keeping me safe until He knew that I was ready and evolved enough to begin to deal with, and bring healing to, the damage. (And how else can you explain the coincidence that, although a loner and misfit all my life, when I most needed to be, I was the most surrounded by people who would love me back to life!)

REWIRING OUR ATTICS: Where do We Begin - Truth”

(Sidebar: I know these are long entries, but they’re leading somewhere…stay with me)

Once we’ve begun to acknowledge that much of our negative self-talk stems from lies we’ve been telling ourselves for most of our lives, then it’s time to begin to replace those lies with truth. Together with self-knowledge and compassion, truth will become our “roadmap” out of the darkness, part of the tool kit we need to manage our depression. (And please remember that these insights are meant to be used in conjunction with medication and professional therapy).

At this point, although the words may look like it, I’m not talking about religious or universal truth, but about MY own core personal truth. Here are my four core truths:

1. I am loved.
2. I am never nor shall I ever be "beyond redemption."
3. God has not abandoned me – I am not alone.
4. I am more than my depression…depression is not the totality of who I am.

In order to be able to believe those core truths about myself, I had to acknowledge and then break the power that those old lies had over me. And to do that, I had to find my first truth, and that was the truth behind the lies.

Where do the lies come from? That is a surprisingly important piece of the puzzle. I had to be willing to acknowledge the true beginnings of the damaging words that were etched on my brain and still causing so much pain. Through therapy and my own digging around for answers, I came up with some startling truths about those lies.

1. My mother DID love me and really did want me to be born.
2. My mother lost a baby when I was five years old, an event that I couldn’t fully understand until many years later, but which permanently scarred my self-image, as well as every relationship for the rest of my life, precisely because nobody helped me to understand.
3. My father, who rarely hugged me or showed any outward display of affection, also deeply loved me – and there was a very simple explanation for that lack of affection, which bore no reflection on me whatsoever, which I didn’t know about until my mid-thirties.
4. Many of those things my mother used to say to me were things she had grown up hearing when she was a child. She was often merely passing on her own mother’s words, not her own feelings about me personally.
5. My mother had painful emotional/mental issues of her own, which went undiagnosed and untreated. A child would naturally be oblivious to that possibility, but it would have made all the difference in the world for me to know all that.
6. Parents are sometimes tired, grieving humans, who become distracted and frustrated by the constant demands of raising children (four in our house); they fling words out in anger and fatigue, which means they often didn’t realize what they were saying, much less actually mean what the words are saying to me.
7. Many of the phrases that became entrenched in my brain as truth may not have been the exact words that were originally said to me. Those words went through my sensitive interpretation process and came out the other end completely askew…but who would have known to check it out at the time?!

[Sidebar: Unfortunately I have to add another possibility to the list of truths, which doesn’t pertain to me personally, but may well fit someone else’s experience, and that is that some parents ARE cruel and vindictive and do deliberately inflict damage upon their children. That’s a different scenario, and probably not within my expertise to tackle here.]

So I’ve discovered these truths about my lies; I’ve realized that there is the possibility that I misunderstood some of the things people said back then. Maybe the words I’m remembering (and using to beat myself up) aren’t quite as true as I originally interpreted them to be. Now what?

I begin the long journey of extricating each damaging word out of my inner dialogue and figure out where it’s coming from. I examine it to see if it actually fits me or not. I hold each one of these negative “beliefs” about myself up to the light of who I know myself to be now, and what I know to be true about me from other sources (therapy, faith, friends). If that belief is a lie, it will not stand up to the light of what I now know to be true. If it’s a truth, it will remain so.

But please hear this: if this is going to be the healing process that it can be, we have to be willing to be brutally honest with ourselves…up until now we think we have been honest with ourselves, but believe me, it will take even more brutal honesty to believe the GOOD TRUTHS about ourselves than it did to believe those negative lies about ourselves.

Here’s an example of me checking out one of those long-held “beliefs”: Because my Dad rarely hugged me or displayed any affection toward me, I grew up estranged from him, believing that he didn’t love me, and that I was ugly and untouchable. After my suicide attempt in 1984, I finally dared to face that agonizing “belief” head on, wrote my Dad a letter and asked him outright if he loved me (what did I have to lose?!) He wrote me back a beautiful letter, surprised at my question. He had never even imagined that I had doubted his love. He affirmed his profound love for me and went on to explain how his religious upbringing had been severe in terms of being taught to never touch a young female after puberty. So he carried that teaching out to the extreme. It explained everything. It was so simple, something that had never occurred to me, but made perfect sense. (Sadly, though, it turns out that those teachings had actually become grossly askew when run through his own interpretation process –but he never checked it out, so never knew that hugging his daughter was okay! Do you see a pattern emerging here?)

This is what we have to do with those negative beliefs that we fling at ourselves. Check them out. Ask for clarification if necessary. You might find that you won’t even have to ask, because your eyes are older and wiser now and more able to see the circumstances for what they really were at the time (like my Mom grieving over the loss of her new baby). Most times, we will discover that the negative “truths” we’ve been telling ourselves for so long are sad misinterpretations of a young child’s confused mind.


I’m going to stop here for now. I am going somewhere with all this...Self-Knowledge...Compassion...the tools that will help us manage our depression. But if anyone has questions or concerns, please ask and I'll gladly take a detour.

Hi all, I PM'd Eagle because I thought this poem had relevance to the current topic, and she asked if I could post it here. Some of you may have seen it before, as it's in "Cosmic Brownies".


Good For Nothing


For three hours each night
months and years in a row
mother confined her eldest daughter
to the slip-covered confines of the living room,
interspersed a litany of
“My children are rotten and they always hurt me”
with a repeating barrage of
“You’re stupid, you’re ugly,
you’re good for nothing.
You think you’re smart but eventually
the world will realize it’s all a facade.
You’ll never amount to anything.”
The girl was being punished
for talking back, speaking out,
asking questions, growing up.
She had to sit in the same chair
until mother grew tired and went to bed.
She assuaged herself by counting;
sometimes a given epithet would be
repeated as much as fifty times in an evening.
The girl, certified child genius,
was too smart to believe she was stupid,
but for years she thought she was ugly
and self-sabotaged every chance she had of success.

A decade later
on the brink of a nervous breakdown
the mother sought out her estranged daughter,
tried to rationalize the earlier abuse.
Mother, who was the youngest of a quartet of sisters,
spent three years after high school caring
for her dying cancer-ravaged father.
Afterwards she wanted to attend art school
but was told “Girls don’t go to college”
so instead married a soldier just returned from war.
They produced four miserable children
and moved to the suburbs where
she assumed the burden of full-time housewife.
She worried that her eldest daughter,
smart-mouthed stubborn wild-child,
would never find a husband
or adapt to a world where women
routinely squashed their dreams,
so she tried to make the girl fit into the mold
that she herself hated.
She thought she was doing the girl a favor
and was forever disappointed that she had failed.

It was well into adulthood,
and only after four bouts with near-death
that the daughter finally looked up into the dazzling sky
and sprouted wings.

©Meredith Karen Laskow

Thanks Meredith, It's definitely relevant to everything we're talking about here. Thank you for sharing.

I wrote a rather bleak poem when I was a teenager, starting off with the words "I'm just a nobody in a no-man's land" ...whenever I read it, it brings tears to my eyes to remember those terrible years of feeling hated and worthless. I'm so glad we've both found our wings and our own piece of that dazzling sky.

Epiphany of Possibility: an excerpt from Chapter 7

(waking up after my suicidal overdose)

It was 4 a.m., dark, and I was alone in ICU. As I lay there in those early morning hours, with bits of charcoal stuck in my teeth, and tubes pumping lifesaving fluids into my body, an amazing wondrous thing began to happen. Love. Washing over me, bathing me, baptizing me in tangible warmth I had never felt before. I felt it, flowing right through my blood, touching every cell, every thought, every scrap of life beating within me. For the very first time in my life, I actually knew without any doubt whatsoever that I was loved.

I had never felt that warmth of certainty before. People started walking through my mind, one by one, looking right at me, smiling at me…Mom, Dad, my brothers Dave, Rob and Gary, Kate, Father Louis, Father Basil…an endless procession of people…and for the first time ever, I knew to the core of my being that they loved me, and always had.

Why had I never seen it before? Why had I never been able to believe it before? It was so clear to me now. It was an incredible, life-altering epiphany of love and possibility.

There was no looking back. The effects of that early-morning epiphany were astounding, lifting me far beyond even my own hopes and expectations of recovery. I was so genuinely glad to be alive and couldn’t wait to get started on the rest of my life.

The residue effect of my "epiphany of love" was that since I now knew with such clarity that much of what I had believed in most of my life was a lie, I had to wonder how many more lies lay simmering deep down inside of me, crippling me, and controlling my life from unknown hiding places. It wasn’t an easy, immediate escape, coming back from that hellhole. I had spent a lifetime caught in the firm grip of those dark lies.

I had to begin to rewrite my entire repertoire of inner dialogues. It was hard work and at times, very arduous. It took constant vigilance and lots of perseverance. I had to be diligent in my willingness to be brutally honest with myself. I had to take every belief and every perception I had of myself and hold it up to the light of truth. If they were true, they withstood the light. If they were lies, they simply couldn’t stand up to the exposure, and we were able then to rewire that part of the attic.

I couldn’t do it alone. A network of faithful and supportive people stood by me all the way…Dr Reynolds, Kate, Dr. C, Father Louis, Father Basil, and my family, especially my brother Gary who called me just about every day for many months. They encouraged me, mentored me and nourished me with their steadfast faith in me.

Indeed, they loved me back to life.

REWIRING OUR ATTICS: Self-Knowledge

In my book, I explore self-knowledge as the discovering of my true core, my “root” self. Knowing the core of who I am…and knowing who I’m not! No longer allowing old lies and misinterpretations to define me. Knowing my own darkness and what wounds simmer there. Realizing there’s more to me than I ever imagined possible.

I need to know where I’ve been, in terms of knowing my deepest soul-scars and how I got them, and in terms of knowing my here and now, and how I got to be the me that I am. From that vantage point I can begin to envision where I’d like this me to be, further down the road, decide if that’s attainable and then determine what I need to make it happen.

While growing up, our lives were impacted by other people’s choices. Some of those choices detoured us from becoming all that we could be. But here and now, you are in control.

We may not be able to fix some of the irreparable consequences of past choices, but we can trust that life will move us on out of the wreckage if we choose to move with it. Right here, right now, it’s our choice which direction our lives take from this point onward. (But I acknowledge here that if you’re like me, “now” isn’t always possible in terms of starting new choices…although deferring the choice is also a choice…so when I say “now”, I also mean “when you know it’s time”.)

When it’s time to move out of the wreckage of our mangled thinking, it’s our knowing the truth about ourselves (our wounds and our possibilities) that will arm us for the journey. Truth is the ammunition we fling at the lies when they try to detour us. Knowing who I am, and who I’m not, and choosing to believe in my own possibilities will map me through any crossroads I come to on the journey out of that quicksand. Knowing my wounded self gives me the desire and power to choose the healthiest direction for that self and where it is I'm envisioning that self to be further down the road. What shields me against the old confusion and futility that used to immobilize me is my firm grasp on the core truth that I am loved unconditionally, that my life matters and that I have a unique niche and meaning in the world that only I can fill.

When I’m in the midst of the blinding confusion of depression, I might not be able to see that core truth, or feel worthy enough to believe it in the onslaught of old voices telling me otherwise. But having already steeped myself in that certainty during my good days, and knowing it to the core of my being, helps me to deliberately and automatically (even if it’s blindly) choose to believe in that truth now when I most need to have power against the despair that looms on my horizon.

For me personally, self-knowledge includes learning what my particular needs and limitations are. Were you aware, for example, that many of us who suffer depression require more “downtime” to process life and events going on around us? Some of us are innately wired to crave that alone time. We actually draw or recuperate our energy from that solitude. So much so that Eastern religions recognize meditation and solitude as essential necessities for stable health. Yet we often ignore that need to pull back, re-energize and recover our equilibrium. We feel guilty for “taking care of self”.

But I guarantee that some of us simply cannot afford to ignore our limitations. Because when we ignore those needs for too long, that’s when we begin to spiral into debilitating fatigue and inability, which then leads to that quicksand of mangled thinking, and on into full-blown despair and depression. I’ve learned the hard way that the consequences of ignoring my need to pull back are far more devastating than the inconvenience that I think I might cause if I don’t stay in the fray and “tough it out”.

That’s the power of self-knowledge. With each new self-revelation (e.g., I need to pull back in order to stay healthy and maintain a reliable energy level) and each new series of rewiring the attic (I am lovable and capable), we become more empowered to make better choices. We find ourselves more able and willing to define our own selves with healthy truth, instead of letting the old lies define – and destroy – us.

Truth loosens despair’s grip on us.

Self-knowledge becomes our map at the crossroads.

And compassion, for all that it’s taken for us to get to our “here and now”, becomes our candle in that blinding darkness and allows us to become our own most faithful companion-along-the-way.

I hope I'm not losing everyone...I really am going somewhere here. I don't NEED any response, but maybe it's time to check to see if there's anyone still actually with me here?

If you have any questions or other issues about depression you'd like to discuss, PLEASE don't by shy or afraid to change the direction here. I'm happy to go where the interest is...

I can guarantee you that you are not losing a soul. We're all reading your words, and digesting them. I am so guilty myself of overdoing, as Evie has said. Then, to add to it, I then beat MYSELF up for not being able to complete the bazillion goals or task I put before myself. Or volunteer to do.

So, I think the downtime is essential and very necessary. Even for people who don't think they need it! Mediation, prayer, just sitting quietly might be all one needs, but I have found by doing so, I am refreshed and more focused on the task at hand.

I personally like the follwing things for my downtime:

1. working jigsaw puzzles
2. Classical music
3. Prayer of course, or just reading scriptures
4. Reading something motivational

These are just a few. I love what you are giving us all to ponder Eagle, and I do love reading your book along with this. It makes it twice as enjoyable.

Meredith...the piece above is outstanding!

JJ

Evie, rant on...this is a good place to rant! And sometimes we find good stuff in those rants.

JJ, I LOVE doing jigsaw puzzles. But our house is too small and overcrowded. There's no place to set a puzzle up and leave it while I'm still working on it. A few years ago, we saw a really neat folding table designed especially for jigsaw puzzles. We really wanted to get it, but it was too expensive and we really have no space for it anywhere (there would be now if I didn't have 20 boxes of Eagle Born to Fly sitting in the basement!)

Anyway, that's exactly the kind of thing that I mean. Downtime doesn't necessarily mean prayer or meditation. It's a time for replenishing oneself, which could include doing any enjoyable thing that brings you pleasure.

Since my last breakdown, I've found it very difficult to laugh and have fun. It amazed me to discover how much I enjoyed the Harry Potter books. I would never have suspected that they would draw me in and bring so much pleasureable escape. The only problem with that is that she's on her last one...what will I do when the series is finished!

Anyway, thanks for the feedback. I realize there's a lot here to read and digest. I don't need hand-holding, but just wanted to check to make sure I wasn't putting everyone to sleep...

[ September 06, 2005, 11:46 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Eagle,
Question. Do you find that you are obsessive about things and if you are, do you think it is a direct result of trying to go in the opposite direction of depression? Like forcing yourself to get involved with one activity (such as the Harry Potter books?) so you can focus on something that takes you away from the possible depression?

I have a tendency to go overboard with things and I have to work on myself to realize I don't HAVE to do these things. For instance, if I knit, I knit five sweaters, if I work a jigsaw puzzle, I do it in 2 days... if I write an article, I write 10 of them in three days... that kind of thing.

So I was wondering if part of your own therapy involved getting involved with something, such as the books, but also finding that you become obsessive about it.

JJ

JJ, what a great question! I would dare to say that you're right on with your suspicion that we go overboard in our frantic attempt to ward off another bout of depression.

While I'm not "diagnosably" obsessive, I do recognize that my fear of relapse and my diligence in not allowing myself to become depressed again might be why I have such a problem having fun and enjoying myself...because everything I set out to do for pleasure, I do precisely as an antidote to depression. So where's the fun in taking medicine, right?

Still, I guess it's my hope that "if I act enthusiastically" long enough, I will truly become enthusiastic. But I do personally have to find a balance between that fear of relapse and learning how to manage myself more realistically. And I have to learn how to relax into those activities more, so as to find the fun I'm supposed to be having! Doing a jigsaw puzzle in two days doesn't sound like fun, it sounds like yet another "should" in action. Know what I mean?

The thing about the HP books is that I started reading again as a "should" thing, to try and increase my repertoire of enjoyable things to do because that's what I ought to be doing, having fun, right? While I devoured books as a child, I had lost the ability to concentrate after my first major breakdown. The most I could read at one time was the occasional magazine article.

My nieces convinced me to try the HP books. I was skeptical, but the Harry Potter books took me completely by surprise by drawing me in and allowing me to totally escape, which hasn't happened since I was a child. It WAS enjoyable.

But that's not why I'm reading them for the third time...that's purely a memory thing. While reading the sixth book, it became foggy-clear how much I couldn't remember. So I'm re-reading the entire series again to try and connect the various references mentioned in the sixth book. Sigh. I'll probably have to do it again for the seventh book.

This memory thing is both a curse and a blessing! How many other people can read books or watch movies over and over again as if each time is the first time!

Dear Eagle Heart,

I'm so glad I finally have taken the time to read through these posts. I congratulate you on your wonderful words of wisdom. It helps to have the people around you understand some things you're going through.

I needed this today. I don't feel so alone.

Sherri

Sherri, I'm glad you're here. I've been reading your other posts about OCD...in a way, some of the information in that thread scared me a bit, because I could see some of those things in me, like music playing non-stop in my mind. In fact, since becoming aware of OCD many years ago, I have often wondered if I could be borderline, but it's never been serious enough for me to feel it necessary to get it checked out.

Interestingly enough, I had that non-stop music in my head all of my life until my Dad died in 1999. I haven't had it since. I kind of miss it, which means it probably wasn't OCD, right?

Any of the other similarities are very mild and seem to be more connected to my depression and anxiety than anything. They don't come close to being the nightmare that OCD is for you, and in fact almost completely disappear when the anxiety is under control.

If it's any consolation, I do understand the stigma and frustration of people just brushing it aside as something you ought to be able to "snap out of it"...been there too, heard it all. It doesn't matter. What matters is that we know that what we suffer is very real, very debilitating and very much a bona fide illness, as worthy of compassion and dignity as any other. If others won't give it to us, it's up to us to give that compassion and dignity to ourselves, and to gently but surely educate others as best we can.

You're doing that for me with your insights into OCD, and hopefully I'm doing the some of the same with these insights into depression.

REWIRING OUR ATTICS: Compassion

(This is the last of the long entries)

Although life doesn’t impact on everyone in the same way, most of us walk broken to some degree. We often grow up unaware of the “why” of our woundedness; we hide behind a semblance of normalcy and pretend we’re okay. But those wounds ooze out through our defensive behaviours and manifest themselves in the way we deal with life and people around us.

When we don’t have the knowledge or courage to name and manage the pain, it remains an unknown shadow, haunting from deep within us, frustrating us with its unsettling presence and frightening us when it oozes out at the most unexpected moments. The harder we try to hide and repress the oozing, the more fatigued and confused we become, opening the door to futility, burnout and depression.

When we know and understand better how those mangled thoughts first came to be planted inside of us, we can then begin to empower ourselves by forgiving ourselves for the woundedness behind those damaging words. Even if the circumstances surrounding the woundings were beyond our control and we didn’t do anything wrong to cause those wounds, there is still a good chance that we have been blaming ourselves in some way, especially if the damage occurred when we were children. Remember, when children don’t understand what’s happening to them or around them, they will often make up stories or create their own reasons, and usually to their own blame and detriment.

Guilt, blame, shame – believing that we are unlovable, bad, “damaged goods” and “beyond redemption” are the lies that have kept our truest selves hostage in the dark for so long.

Shining the light of truth on those lies diminishes their power over us.

Our own compassionate forgiveness frees us from the dismal prison of self-rejection and carries us beyond the reaches of those dangerous whispers that would have us believe that we’re forever unredeemable and worthless.

As we continue to rewire our attic - replacing negative self-talk with the truth of our meaning - and forgiving ourselves for being wounded (some use the word “weak”, but I prefer to call it what it is, wounded), we can dare to unmask the behaviours that we have been using to protect those wounds. Masking is reflexive - we mask our deepest soul-wounds in order to better cope with our confusion and pain. We use all kinds of behaviours, defence mechanisms and “bandages” (like drugs, food and alcohol, for example) to cushion us against the inner pain, as well as the external demands and realities that might otherwise further overwhelm us – family, marriage, school, work and social expectations. Sometimes, our defensive behaviours repulse us, making us feel even worse about ourselves, deafening us to the cry of the wounded child buried deep beneath those behaviours. But when we become aware of our woundedness, and realize that those behaviours have been shaped by our need to protect our deepest self from further injury, we can dare to feel compassion toward the wounded child who created those defences in the first place.

And once we’ve begun to experience the healing of our own understanding, forgiveness and compassion, we can then dare to embrace with love that deepest self.

I believe that one of the most compassionate, loving things we can do for ourselves is to become our own best friend. Think about it. Who better understands the deepest “why” of your woundedness? Who best understands why you are who you are…and who you yearn to be? Yet so often we shun ourselves in disgust.

But I firmly believe that no matter how hard and sincerely we search for companionship and comfort from others – God, spouse, best friends, doctors – until we become our own best friend, we will never experience the profound yearned-for depth of friendship in anyone else. I will go so far as to suggest that we can’t authentically love anyone else, including God, if we can’t also love our own self.

It has been my experience, since my epiphany of possibility in the ICU that morning 20 years ago, that the more I’m able to embrace my self with compassionate forgiveness and love, the more capable I am of loving and receiving love from others, including God.

Truth shines possibility into our lostness.

Self-knowledge continues to map us through our crossroads.

Compassion empowers us to love our wounded self back to life.

Eagle, I've read your book and it's wonderful. You're such a blessing.

I was told that when we're children and told horrible things about ourselves, after a time, our brain begins to chemically alter itself in defense. When we leave the cruel words, we then kick into depression because we're not in the protection mode anymore. What do you think.

Depression wasn't passed down by my parents. They just created in me and my sister!

Dianne, thanks for the lovely feedback on my book.

I have read about the brain chemically altering itself in defense against the abuse, but I've never heard about depression moving in because we have moved out of protection mode. I'll look into that.

I have often heard depression described as "repressed anger", which makes a lot of sense, at least for me personally. I've noticed that I do start to feel shakey and more prone to futility and despair when I feel like I'm losing too much control over my choices, time and life in general (e.g., hubby's being too domineering.) But if I stand up for myself and be angry when I'm angry, those dark feelings seem to dissipate quickly.

I had to wait until I was an adult before I learned that every Mother didn't say hurtful, cruel things to their children. I was always the reason my Mom got "sick headaches". Usually because I was covering for one of my younger brothers or sisters. I wanted to spare them as much as possible.

My Mother told me my whole life that her birth experience with me was the worst that ever happened to her, and I was the ugliest baby she had ever seen, and refused to see me or hold me for three days. She was forced to take me home.

I was a forceps baby, and apparently had forcep ridges all over my head.

Anyway, it's taken a lot of time but I've started to heal from that. Also my nickname when I was a little girl was Toad. Can you imagine?

Sherri

Pretty normal for one so screwed up!

Sherri, It's beyond my comprehension how ANYONE can say such things to a child, much less that child's MOTHER. What horrible things to have to hear while growing up...and those words DO change who a child becomes...whatever potential a child has at birth becomes obscured and lost in the deafening onslaught of damaging words that will forever change the path and psyche of that child.

As you know, it IS possible to heal from that and move on from wherever we are when the healing begins. And it's all moot to consider the "what if's" and "if only's". But it's hard not to wonder who we'd be if we had not been broken by such damaging words at such an early age.

But really, all we can do is keep healing as best we can, and CELEBRATE the fact that we survived, even if only barely, and are still alive to share our story as the AWESOME persons we HAVE become, despite all those odds against us.

I hope you're embracing this powerful, courageous you that you are now...you've come a very long way, up a very steep hill, and here you stand, shining the light of your experience to help guide others along their dark path...every flicker of "been-there-wisdom" that we wounded healers can ripple out there makes a good difference to all the others still struggling through their own nightmares.

Hey Eagle,
Do you think as much damage can be done when the pain inflicted is covert? I'm talking about a mother that always talked about her children, to others, as if they walked on water, but then was always less than thrilled with them at home. I cannot remember my mother ever complimenting us without including a backdoor insult in the form of a question. "Your hair looks nice--did you brush the back of it?" "That's a cute dress--do you think it's too short?"
"Congratulations on that touchdown--do you think the score would have been higher if you had thrown the ball more?"
One thing my brothers and I have in common is that we all have to fight the tendency to think we're just never quite good enough, and by extension, that nothing or nobody else is quite good enough.
It's a pain to carry that pain!!! Your words have been so inspiring. Thank you so much for the posts.

Dear Fifty,

I have had to fight my Mother's voice even from the grave. I was told my writing was a stupid waste of time and I'd never amount to anything anyway. She has been gone for 18 years and I still at times am troubled by words she spoke so long ago.

I never was good enough for her. It was always, "why couldn't you have done this/that?"
Not until she was dying was she able to express any true love to me. It takes a long time to heal, the journey is long, but the end result is worth it. I not only have published one book, am regularily featured in my local newspaper, but my first novel is being considered for a made for TV movie and it hasn't been published yet. I hold those things close to my heart and tell myself my Mom was wrong.

I hold those things close to my heart and tell myself my Mom was wrong.

Sherri, those might be the most important words that come out of this entire thread.

[ September 08, 2005, 02:50 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Fiftyandfine, you asked Do you think as much damage can be done when the pain inflicted is covert?

A resounding YES. In fact, the damage could be even more confusing because we're never quite sure if those undercurrents are there, or if they're figments of our imagination. And when we dare to consider the possibility that our parent(s) could be capable of such ugly deception, we immediately censor ourselves and wonder how we could be so wicked as to even think such a terrible thing about our Mother (or Father).

Yet something "nags" at us, and we're never quite sure if we can accept the words at face value, or if we're meant to hear the subtle double-meaning that seems to lurk hide behind those words. We gradually learn that we can't really trust exactly what those covert words are supposed to be saying to us...do we look good, or not? And if it's not clear, which way are children more prone to go? To their own detriment...I'm not good-enough to warrant a full-blown "you look good".

I'd say that much of the damage inflicted on me were double-entendres; most compliments were shadowed with ambiguity. And one of my biggest issues still today is trust. Despite years of therapy and hard work, I am still not capable of trusting that what a person tells me is true...I'm always searching for the "but", or the double-entendre, the qualifier. It's a lonely place, innate mistrust. But I'm still a work-in-progress, diligently rewiring that part of my attic. Hubby's steadfast love is helping me a lot with that particular area of woundedness.

[ September 08, 2005, 03:36 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

A Postscript to my previous post. This is really hard for me to share. How I've debated doing so. One of the reasons it took me so long to write the book is that I refused to do anything that would ever hurt my Mom. There's still a strong desire, and always will be, to "honour my Mom". I've forgiven her and am moving on. And as much as possible, unless it's an absolute necessary part of my story, I try not to damage her memory, especially for so many others whose lives she touched, blessed and changed in so many wonderful ways. The things she said and did to damage me were NOT all that she was. She was an incredibly charitable, giving, generous woman, the epitome of Santa Claus every day of the year, one of the most phenomenal women you'd ever want to meet. It would take me another whole book to describe and give evidence of the amazing wonderful woman she was.

But the reason I'm bringing this up here is that this is precisely what made it impossible for me to ever talk to anyone about what was going on at home. First, I figured nobody would ever believe me, because of what a beloved generous woman she was outside of our home. Everybody adored my Mom, including me, and rightly so.

Second, I truly didn't want to believe that she was doing these things to me deliberately...I decided it had to be my fault, that if I was the perfect loving daughter I ought to be, she wouldn't treat me like that. Since she did, it had to mean that I was a wicked and horrible daughter. The agony caused by that image of myself is what led me to my first suicidal tendencies at the age of 13. Nothing I did ever seemed to be right or good enough. The harder I tried, the worse the abuse got. I couldn't live with myself, knowing I was bringing such pain and heartache to a Mother I loved so much. It broke my heart. She deserved better...which is why I thought she'd be happier and better off if I was gone.

It wasn't until my breakdown when I was 29 years old, that I dared to believe my first instincts, that my Mother was sick and had been wrong to treat me the way she did. As soon as I dared to be open to that possibility, healing began. Because it was true. My Mother WAS wrong.

I have since grown to recognize that my Mom had always needed a scapegoat in her life, and as long as I was around, I was that scapegoat. It only ended when my sister-in-law came into the family...from that moment on, she bore the brunt of that side of my Mom, and I finally saw in my Mom's eyes her recognition of me as the beloved daughter I had always yearned to be.

[ September 08, 2005, 03:46 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

As badly as I was treated, my brother two years younger actually bore the brunt of Mom's ineptness as a Mother. He's a mess today.

So, your mother basically found another victim I guess.

I too was the family scapegoat and it created a false sense of power. How powerful that a child is responsible for all the problems in the family. I took the burden on my shoulders where it was placed. I could, single handed, ruin a marriage or destroy my sister. On and on. I didn't stop this nonsense until I was 45 years old with the help of a therapist.

The sad treatment here makes me want to cry but I see so many survivors and concentrate on that.

My mom wasn't worried about what we said, we just had to be clean all the time. Ultra clean. She was obsessed with cleanliness and still is.

I think this false power can lead us into becoming a rescuer of others. We can help and save others when in truth, we can't help or save us!

It led to co-dependancy with me. I didn't do anything for myself because I felt guilty and selfish. If I had a small achievement, I usually kept it to myself because my Mom would say I was getting "big-headed". That's why I'm trying really hard to get thick skinned and promote myself. Remind myself that I'm worthy of being loved and I do have a God given talent ( my MIL words) to write and to give him the credit. Which I do. Those self-doubts, imbedded in our minds for so long can hurt so bad, every once in a while they come back to take another jab, that's when I start self talking again, saying positive things about myself. Reminding myself that my God loves me, as does my husband, sweet MIL and my kids and grandkids adore me. I'm blessed and I tune out the voice by reminding myself of my grandkids sweet little faces and the feel of their arms around my neck giving me that unconditional love I looked for and craved my entire life.

Sorry, didn't mean to write a book. This is just a subject I feel strongly about. I am a survivor!! I've been to hell and came back refined by the process. I still have days, but I'm a different person from 13 years ago.

Sherri

This poem isn't one from my book, but it seems to fit right in here.


A NEW DAY, HOT OFF THE HORIZON

Slowly, ere so gently,
like a meandering meadow stream
life is spreading tendrils warm
into my tangled being.
Light is flickering stronger now
where darkness kept me blind.
Whispers of epiphany
are beckoning my mind
to come and play with hope again,
to watch horizons rise
with unexpected promises
of days that might surprise.
With brand new possibilities
replacing old despair,
the road I’m on delights me now,
the winds of change me dare
to fly with wings I’ve always owned
but kept too close to home -
I spread those eagle’s wings and step
into the sky and soar.

~ ©Sharon C. Matthies, May 2005, Ottawa

SUMMARIZING THE JOURNEY THUS FAR

1. The Broken Self: be aware of how your depression manifests itself:

Mangled Thinking
- Confusion and distorted thinking are crippling symptoms of depression;
- Deafens us to other voices, other possibilities;
- You can map yourself out with Truth, Knowledge and Compassion.

Self-Ostracism
- We hibernate, withdraw from our loved ones out of guilt, shame, fear and inability to cope
- Prepare your network of support – tell people what to expect and how to be there for you
- During the good days, prepare yourself – steep yourself in truth, knowledge and compassion


2. The Repair Kit: Rewire Your Attic with the proper tools:

TRUTH: shines the light of possibility into our lostness and diminishes the hold darkness has over us.
- What are the lies whispering at you from your attic?
- Replace those negative lies with positive core truths (YOUR positive core truths might be worded differently to better fit who YOU are):
** You are lovable and capable.
** Your life matters; you have a unique meaning and niche in this world that nobody else can fill.
** You am more than your depression, depression is not the totality of who you are – define yourself with the truth.
** God has not abandoned you – you are not alone.

SELF-KNOWLEDGE: becomes our map out of the quicksand of mangled thinking.
- Know that you are in control of your choices from this point on.
- Know who you are – and who you’re not.
- Know your core truths to the depth of your being – steep yourself in truth during your good days.
- Know your particular needs and limitations:
** take “downtime” to replenish your energy’s fuel tank.

COMPASSION : is our candle and companion-along-the-way in the blinding darkness.
- Dare to believe that there is no such thing as being “beyond redemption”...you are loved unconditionally.
- Caress your woundedness with your own understanding and compassion.
- Forgive yourself for being wounded.
- Become your own best friend.
- Celebrate who you’ve become and all it has taken for you to get to your “here and now”.


3. The reward? Eventually mapping your way out of the quicksand, finding your own piece of that "dazzling sky" (thanks, Meredith) and freeing within you your own wings to carry you there.

[ September 09, 2005, 12:12 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Did you gals get conflicting messages from your parents? I think my mother was trying to make me think I was crazy or trying to confuse me.

One day she was waiting for me in the car as I ran into the store. When I got in the car she said, "I notice that people look at you funny because you don't smile." Crazy #1. Then, I'm laughing and smiling at something on another day and she tells me I don't look pretty when I smile. Crazy #2. I believe it was intentional and to this day, I still don't think I have a pretty smile. Sad, sad, sad.

The one that confused me was "get that ugly look off your face". I couldn't figure out what "look" she was talking about, especially since the line got thrown at me when I was smiling, scowling, happy, angry, thinking, crying, whatever. Despite spending time "researching" her comment in the mirror, trying to find that "ugly look" she kept talking about, all I ever saw was my own face.

I too lived with the "you're not good enough" comments. About me were bad enough... but being held up to my brothers and sisters as an example they should attain was even worse. I cringed every time I heard my father tell one of my sisters, "why can't you get good grades like Vicki." That hurt even more. Even in my young mind, I knew the damage that my father was inflicting on my siblings and I hurt deeply for them.

Just wanted to say that I am following this thread although I have nothing to add at this time.
Eagle Thank you for all of the great info.

And Meredith- as always- your poetry is awesome!

The Faith Connection

Excerpt from Chapter 1:

”My earliest memory takes me back to a rocking chair in Georgetown, Ontario sometime during 1958. I would have been about three years old, sitting in the rocking chair with Mrs. Brownridge, my babysitter, who was reading stories to me out of an old, tattered black Bible. It was there, nestled in her warm embrace, listening to the gentle cooing of her storytelling that I first met God. It was hard for a young child to distinguish God from the story’s main characters, but that was where I got my first glimpse of Him: Daniel in the lion’s den; the good Samaritan; the Prodigal Son; the widow with just one mite; impetuous Peter; and my all-time favourite, doubting Thomas.

That was both my earliest childhood memory and my first encounter with the One who was to become my constant companion along a very long and shadowed path. He has been a steadfast Presence in my life for as long as I can remember. While I was able to get some glimpses of Him in Church and Sunday School, my favourite and most inspiring Sacred Places have consistently turned up in the most unexpected chapters of my story; indeed, at every confusing twist and precarious bend in my road. It amazes me that even the muckiest puddle can be Sacred Ground, but that’s often where I saw Him best.”


When I first began to write “Eagle”, I had no intention of writing about my faith. As profound a part as my spirituality had played in my life, I wanted this book about depression to be universally appealing. I was afraid that sharing too much about my Christian faith would deter people from other faiths (or no faith) from reading it. So I tried writing about my struggle with depression without mentioning my faith. It was impossible. It became clear that I could not talk about my depression without including the impact that my spirituality had had on my life. So I decided to “go with the flow”, to just write and see where it took me.

Every morning for two weeks, I got up before dawn with that day’s words already formulating in my head. No sooner would I start typing those words than my husband would come down and bring me my lunch. Days blurred past in a glorious rush of exhilaration. Right before my eyes, the chronological story-threads pulled in the depression story-threads, and the spiritual story-threads kept jumping into the chaos to weave such a rich tapestry of my life’s journey that it startled even me. I knew that God had been an intimate part of my life since those first earliest memories. But I had never taken the time to sit and put all the pieces of my journey together in such a way that I could see so vividly how God had gently and intricately woven Himself through each and every other thread of my life. In fact, I could see now how, in my darkest hours, in my most profound despair, He had crept into my dark and lonely cave and sat there in the muck with me, cradling me, weeping with me, waiting with me until I was ready to climb out of there, and then He sent me all the candles and maps I could possibly need to help me find my way out. He had indeed transformed my hellhole into ‘Sacred Ground”.

That’s when I realized the powerful healing that could ripple out from within those depths of despair if I let Him be a part of my story.


I’m going to talk more about this faith connection over the next few days. But please hear this: I share this only because it’s a profoundly relevant part of my story, NOT EVER because I seek to proselytize, convert or sway anyone else over to “my beliefs”. I celebrate all faith, even the choice to not believe at all. I celebrate that freedom in each and every human soul. If your “God” has a different name or no name, or a different face or no face, or a different way of expressing Him/Herself to you, then know that I celebrate your faith with you as much as I celebrate my own.

For me, there’s a distinct difference between “organized religion” and “personal spirituality”. Too often, they're simply not the same thing. “Organized religion” played a significant part in PUSHING me deeper INTO depression, and in fact could easily have destroyed me had it not been for my life-long, life-saving personal relationship with God.

I invite you to share what role, if any, your faith has played in your own struggle with depression, remembering that we’re not here to preach, convert or persuade anyone into any particular faith system here, but to share the particular role that one’s faith has had in terms of dealing with depression.

We're also not here to "pull the rug out from underneath anyone's feet". By that I mean that as we share what (if any) negative impact "organized religion" may have had on us in terms of our struggle with depression, I don't want anyone's church, denomination or religious affiliation to be attacked in such a way that we inadvertently pull that crucial rug out from underneath someone else's feet.

[ September 09, 2005, 04:05 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

I just realized my parents didn't call me on my birthday yesterday. They are usually good for about six months of peace and then begin to build up dramas in their minds to make themselves angry. Oh well.

I always use Sammie in my speaking. If we can ruin a parrot by yelling or saying negative things that they learn to repeat, just think what we can do to our children.

Today is World Suicide Day. Not everyone's favourite topic. But a very dark reality that all too many people, even many of our Boomer sisters here, live with throughout their lives.

I was fortunate enough to survive my suicide attempt...this is definitely the one time when I can say "by the grace of God"...

MERCY

Excerpt from Chapter 6

“Even while swallowing the pills, I continued to cry out to God to understand and forgive me, begging Him to see my despair and exhaustion, and how raw my fingers of faith had become from trying so long and hard to fight my way out. I just couldn’t live like this anymore. And so I lay down to die.

Time had no meaning that morning. It could have been minutes or hours, I had no awareness in the "when" anymore. But I was definitely aware when death began to crawl over me. I could barely make it to the bathroom to be violently sick and once there, slipped in and out of consciousness while still hugging the toilet bowl.

My phone started ringing. My phone rarely rang. It didn’t make any sense to my drug-fogged brain that it would be ringing now. Early Sunday morning. Everyone I knew would be in church. I hadn’t been to church in four months. Nobody would miss me.

With greater clarity than I had ever experienced before, I realized that this was my last possible chance. The ultimate moment of choice. Answer the phone and live, or let it ring and die. I knew to the core of my being that if I didn’t answer that phone in time, I was going to die.

It was somewhere around the 20th ring when I finally reached the phone. I had just enough breath left to utter "Help" before collapsing.

Then came the dream:

In the dream, I was me, lying limp and dead in the arms of Jesus. I was white, very cold, lifeless, and unable to move or speak or do anything other than just lie there. He held me in His arms, close enough that I could feel His heartbeat pulsing against my own heart. He rocked me back and forth saying, "I love you, and I understand. I love you, and I understand.” Over and over and over again. That’s all He did. He continuously rocked me back and forth, repeating over and over, "I love you, and I understand.”

He rocked me for what felt like an eternity’s worth of time.

And then He said, “Now it’s time to give you back to the people who will love you back to life.”

And then I woke up.”


This was my defining experience of Mercy…there had been no disapproval, no scolding, no hell, no demand for penance, no reprimand, or even the slightest glimmer of reproach. There had been no such thing in those loving eyes or that life-giving embrace as me being “beyond redemption”. There had only been Love. Pure Unconditional Love.

That experience of pure, unconditional love being poured into my dying body and mind was what dared me to learn how to embrace myself with the same mercy and compassion.

He gave me back my life. I gave me back my permission to live that life.


***********
I may not be able to be back here for discussion on this until later this afternoon or evening. But I invite you to share your questions, thoughts, feelings and experiences here and I'll join in as soon as I can.

[ September 10, 2005, 11:06 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Jesus, still has his precious arms around you.
Thank-you for sharing, you have truly touched my heart.

Eagle, I have purposely left this topic to read while I'm off tomorrow and Monday. Congratulations on being Featured Author.
Luv
chick

Thanks Chick. That's a lot of heavy reading to catch up on...feel free to "postpone the pleasure" and enjoy the rare freedom to just relax and "be".

Paraphrased Random Excepts from Chapter 8: Sirens of Suicide

I’m not proud of my suicide attempt. It frightens me to share my story because I don’t want to glorify or condone my actions. I share it because I believe I’ve gained some valuable insights into the phenomenon of suicidal thinking.

My suicidal thoughts had been simmering inside of me for a very long time. We know they were there at the age of thirteen [in 1968]. After my suicide attempt in 1984, I was able to go many years without encountering those thoughts again. But they would return to haunt me now and again, especially when times got really rough.

I couldn’t understand why they would, because it seemed as if I had already dealt with all of the issues and brought healing to my inner being. Even while being haunted by those thoughts, I would know to the core of my being that dying was not an option; I knew I wanted to live, indeed, that I enjoyed living.

So why were those suicidal thoughts still there?

Finally, I stopped pushing them away, and started allowing myself to feel what lay behind the thoughts. What hit me is that there was NOTHING substantial behind those suicide thoughts. In fact, the call to suicide sounded exactly like the song of the ancient sirens. Remember the old stories of sailors being at sea for long periods of time, and how they would think that they were hearing the mermaids beckoning to them? Legend called them the "sirens of the sea.” And the sailors who didn’t know that those voices weren’t real would jump overboard and drown, in their rush to answer the sirens’ seductive song.

That’s now what I believe the lure of suicide is…a siren’s call…beckoning to us with promises of peace, full of soothing assurances of respite from the pain, and an end to the despair and darkness. The answer, the way out. Death.

What takes my breath away while reflecting on this, is that these are exactly the same promises that God makes to us: promises of peace, safe respite for the weary, an end to the darkness, home for the lost, hope for the despairing. The answer, the way out. Life.

Those of us stuck in depression’s blinding confusion and dark despair are faced with two very distinct calls, beckoning to us from deep within our darkness. Both promise the same thing. But one fulfills those promises through death. The other fulfills those promises through life. And if we’re not even aware of the existence of BOTH voices, and the unique nature of each voice calling us out of our darkness, how can we know which one to listen to?

The siren of suicide had become an obsession inside of me. It gripped me, bit into me like a vicious pit bull and wouldn’t let me go no matter how hard I tried to escape or distance myself from its clutches. That’s the nature of a siren. Once it’s inside of your head, it won’t leave you alone. It calls over and over and over again, haunting every thought, leaving no room for logic, no safe space for reasoning it out, no silence for the other call to break through.

I firmly believe now that the only way you can possibly hope to truly escape its grip and successfully fight off the siren of suicide is through the power of knowledge. The sirens will deafen you to all possible truth about yourself, and continue to convince you that you’re a nobody, that nobody cares whether you live or die, that the world is better off without you.

But those are the lies of mangled thinking. And what have we discussed about the way out of our mangled thinking? Truth, Knowledge and Compassion. Here’s where we grab onto their power and use them to map ourselves out of the quicksand.

Without the power of knowing what you’re up against, you will not be able to see just how much the voices in your head and the sirens of suicide have lied to you about your unworthiness and hopelessness. With the knowledge that the siren’s call is just that, an empty promise that is only capable of repeating the lies that we’ve been believing in for so long and offer only the finality of death, we can steel ourselves against the onslaught of those haunting voices...and say "NO, I choose to LIVE".

Those of us who are groping our way through that darkness need hope and light to find our way out. Truth and Knowledge give us that hope and light. Knowledge of our core truth that we are loved and have a rightful niche in the world. Knowledge, specifically authentic self-knowledge, opens our eyes to other possibilities besides death.

It’s not knowing what exactly we battle against that allows the sirens of suicide to come whispering into our minds, camouflaged as a friend in the midst of our most vulnerable moments. Knowing what lies we fight against gives us the chance to ground ourselves in the Truth so we can resist the empty promises of the sirens…by flinging that Truth into the sirens' lies, we destroy their power over us.

And those of you who care for those of us caught in that darkness can help to map and light our way out by being aware of the lies that haunt our darkness and deafen us to all other voices.

Don’t give up speaking the truth of your love.

Truth is our best map out of the darkness. Believing that our lives are worthwhile, that we are loved and have a niche in the world is almost impossible for us to believe when we’re stuck in the quicksand of depression and despair, but it’s exactly what we need to be told over and over again. We need to be steeped in love and "Truthed" back to life.

[ September 10, 2005, 08:58 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Continuing with the Faith Connection

Excerpt from Chapter 1
[Background: this was 1968 and I was 13; this was the very first of a lifelong series of life-changing dreams]

“I had sunk into a miserable despair, firmly believing to the core of my being that nobody cared and that everyone would be glad when I was gone. Every thought from that moment on was about how to get rid of myself.

I thought of running away, but had no place to go. Even as I went about my daily routines and chores, these dark thoughts consumed me. I’m not sure how long I stayed on the edge of that death wish, but when my beloved Nana died at Christmas that same year, it plunged me into an overwhelming accumulation of grief and loss.

The death of Susan [my baby sister], Nana, my Papa Lewis, and my niche in the world all blended into one monstrous anguish. I became inconsolably sad, crying myself to sleep every night for weeks. I ached for a way out.

Then came the dream:

St. Peter came and woke me up out of bed to take me on a tour of Heaven. He opened many doors and showed me many rooms that night, but to this day I can only remember the last room. This "room" had no walls, floor or ceiling. It was just there, infinitely blue and holy. Right in front of me, I saw Jesus hanging on a huge dirty, splintery cross. Two large crystal wine goblets sat under each of His hands and a third one below His feet. The goblets were catching the blood that was dripping out of His wounds. Blood streaked down His face, but His eyes were clearly visible, and to this day, I remember the clarity and intensity of those eyes.

He raised His head and looked right into my own eyes and said, "I love you. Do you know that I love you?" I nodded, and He asked me again. "Do you really know that I love you?" I nodded, and He asked a third time. "Do you believe with all your heart that I love you?" This time I answered, "Yes.” His eyes looked down at the goblet under His feet, "Then drink.” With some trepidation, I stepped forward and took the goblet full of blood and drank. It was sweet, warm and I felt a happy strength and sense of utter contentment flow through my entire being. Then He looked deep into my eyes again and said, "This is how much I love you. Always remember how much I love you. No matter what happens, no matter where you go, always remember that I love you.”

Then St. Peter guided me to a back gate and said good-bye. I was walking along the path back to my bed when I heard a soft voice call my name. I turned around and saw in the distance a woman carrying an infant. At first, I thought it was Mary carrying baby Jesus, but as she got closer, I realized it was my Nana, holding my baby sister, Susan. Nana came up to me, smiled and said, "We are where we’re supposed to be. You don’t have to be sad anymore. Don’t cry for us anymore. We are happy and safe here, and we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

When I awoke, a sense of profound consolation enveloped me, and from that moment on, I had such a strong sense of His presence that this one dream experience would eventually carry me through every mucky detour and every precarious night of my soul.”

[ September 12, 2005, 11:27 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Eagle, I was amazed when I read this in the book and continue to be moved by this after reading it again here. I can't help but comment that your soul had to be prepared for this dream and the Lord's timing was perfect. You were open to it and able to interpret it which is a huge part of the healing process.

Dotsie, these dreams have always amazed me...they come out of nowhere, usually when I'm most in need of direction and wisdom. They usually have very specific insight and answers for whatever particular problem/situation I'm dealing with at the time of the dream. I was only able to include a few in the book, but there have been dozens of others along the way.

There was one that I had about 15 years ago that has always made me laugh...can't remember the specifics, but the dream made it clear that the reason I was having such problems in life was that I didn't have enough "ingenuity". I didn't even know what the word meant, but when I looked it up, realized the dream was right.

Sharon, I too have been led by dreams. I think it's when I refuse to listen while awake and it's the only time my spirit can reach me. I never, ever ignore my dreams.

Dianne, I really cherish these dreams. Once I had a whole series of different ones involving a little spindly girl. She wasn't very pretty, but oh, how I grew to love her. She kept coming back into different dream scenarios, helping me to escape, cope, figure things out. It was like having my very own little MacGyver! I missed her when she stopped coming.

I shared elsewhere on the forums before that I stopped dreaming these kinds of dreams (or at least remembering them) when Mom died in 2001. But it was shortly after she died that I had my massive burnout/breakdown, retired and started living life at my own pace. So maybe being under considerably less stress has something to do with not having those dreams.

I've only recently started remembering snippets of dreams again, all of them involving glimpses of my Mom off in the distance and me desperately trying not to wake up until I can find her and hug her.

I believe you were given the gift of dreams to help you find your way through the maze.

Eagle, your faith journey is as fascinating a read as the story of your journey through depression. Do you ever feel that it is a kind of "mixed blessing" - that you have such a deep faith life, yet battled the dark nights of the soul? Or do you think that the battle made your faith stronger?

That's a thought-provoking question, Evie. Do I ever feel that my faith is a "mixed blessing"? I love God, and I cherish my faith. He has been such a faithful, loving Companion. He grounds me. My faith anchors me. He has been such an integral part of my being and heart, it's impossible to imagine living without God in my life.

I actually deliberately tried once. It was while I was in college. I can't remember why, but I was angry with God about something going on in my life at the time. Probably had something to do with the fact that I was living in a "Christian" community house, where two drummers had been up half the night (for about the third night in a row) trying to out-drum each other. I knew I'd probably have to move, because I couldn't take this drumming feud anymore.

Anyway, I woke up grumpy, tired, and disappointed at the idea of having to move again, mid-semester after being so excited about this whole Christian community idea. So I told Him in the morning that I didn't want to talk to Him for the rest of the day (don't ask me why I blamed HIM for the drummers drumming all night...but, hey, I was cranky and He was the only one I could be cranky with!)

The day was hectic, so there wasn't much time to think about Him. But walking home, the sunset was one of the most glorious I'd ever seen. I had to laugh and tell Him He wasn't playing fair...how could I possibly see something like that and not thank Him for it!

Our relationship has always had a gentle sense of humour, making Him that much more a beloved Companion along my way.

The word that comes to mind when describing my faith is "dynamic". It's constantly evolving, I'm constantly learning new facets of God, and consequently new facets of myself in relationship to the new facets of God. But I'll take the ever-evolving faith over a stagnating faith anyday.

The one thing that has baffled me all my life is that the deeper my faith grows, the more I expect it to strengthen and protect me, and yet, when the depressions would hit, I couldn't fathom the "why" and would beat myself up around the soul for being so weak and, well, faithless - until I recognized that depression is an ILLNESS, and not a sign of weakness or character flaw. Once I accepted that my depression is a bona fide illness, I was able to separate it from my faith and realize that the depression had nothing to do with how faithful I was or wasn't.

This is actually what I'm going to be discussing here tomorrow, so it's a timely question.

[ September 12, 2005, 11:40 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

The Faith Connection Continued:The Cruelty of Kind Intentions

Excepts from Chapter 5

“After my illness was officially declared to be depression, I spiralled down even further. Shame, guilt, confusion, bewilderment and disillusionment all tormented me into hiding. I couldn’t understand why God was letting this happen to me. I attended every healing mass I could drag myself to, pleading with God to come and guide me out of the darkness. My faith in Him and my certainty of His mercy and grace were unshakeable, and I was sure it was only a matter of weeks before He’d show His face to me again…yet I felt abandoned and bereft without the intimate Presence that had been such a faithful companion throughout my adult life thus far.

I continued going to the weekly prayer meetings, daring to trust that this was just a test of my faith, and I was adamant that I would not fail it, or the God who obviously must be trying to teach me something through all of this. But no healing came.

The first time I stayed after the prayer meeting to be prayed over by the prayer team, they asked me what I wanted from God. I said the first thing that came to my mind. "I just want to feel loved. I’ve never felt loved before. I know in my head that God loves me and that others love me, but I’ve never really felt loved. I want to know what it feels like to be loved.”

The people around me meant well, but their responses showed they didn’t understand. They all insisted that of course, I was loved. The caring words flowed around me…everyone who knew me loved me…highly regarded and well loved…don’t even think twice about it. Those words I could handle; indeed, while they weren’t exactly what I so desperately needed, they lifted my sagging spirit somewhat.

But then someone in the group added, "Well, if you’re feeling so depressed and unloved, it’s because you’re not praying enough.”

And of course, out of all the words that were spoken to me that night, those were the ones that took root in my brain and festered there, rippling more guilt and shame into my already overwhelming self-loathing.”

***********
One of the difficult things I have had to deal with during any depressive bout is the inevitable “crisis of faith”…why does God let me suffer like this…God has abandoned me…God is punishing me for not being good enough, for not praying enough, for thinking bad thoughts…God has given up on me, like everyone else in my life…I’m too far gone, damaged goods, beyond redemption.

It wasn’t until I was able to lump all of this negative God-talk in with the mangled thinking that I was able to steel myself against future onslaughts of this specific set of lies. Now I Know, to the core of my being, that none of those negative statements are even remotely true, and never will be true. And if anyone dares to say such things to me, I immediately reject those toxic statements and choose Compassion instead, standing firm on my core Truths…I am loved UNCONDITIONALLY, God has NOT abandoned me and never will abandon me, this is a bona fide illness requiring medical treatment and compassionate healing, not a punishment from God, and there is NO such thing as ever being beyond redemption. No exceptions.

When we truly believe that depression is a bona fide illness, we can dare to see these toxic thoughts and crisis of faith as yet one more symptom we have to learn how to prepare for in the good days so we can manage it during our darkest days…Truth, Knowledge and Compassion will get us through this one too!

What about you? Has anyone else experienced the “cruelty of kind intentions” during your times of depression? We know it’s not intentional; people who have never been clinically depressed often just cannot understand the quicksand that we are stuck in, or how crippling and debilitating the darkness is. They mean well, but sometimes those well-intentioned words do inadvertently push our noses back into the muck rather than help light our way out.

What do you think?

Dear Sharon,

I just wanted to share how much I appreciate your openness and candor. I find that our experiences have led us down pretty much the same path. I'm still working on the faith part, but I do know that I am loved by God and He is with me, even if I don't go regularily to a "Church" building.

Thank you, Sherri.

It was never drilled into me that I HAD to go to church, but somewhere along the way it became one of those inner "shoulds" that would cause me great guilt and shame if I disobeyed. It wasn't until just recently that I realized that going to church is meant to be a healthy, joyful thing, not yet one more law we're supposed to follow blindly.

I think Church is supposed to be more about being part of a caring community of fellow pilgrims, nurturing and encouraging each other for the next leg of the journey. That would make it a tender tidbit of wisdom from a very loving Companion who knows us so intimately well that He sees how alone we feel, and knows how much our hearts need the uplifting care from each other...contrast that tender image against the finger-shaking church-or-hell image of God we somehow adopt along the way.

Unfortunately, church isn't always the caring community of fellow pilgrims we need it to be. It took me several years to find the church we go to now, and until we found this one, I couldn't stomach going to the other churches in the area at all...very cold, distant and uncaring. IMHO, that's not what church is supposed to be!

In fact, if we truly believe that Church is meant to be "a caring community of fellow pilgrims, nurturing and encouraging each other for the next leg of the journey", then that makes THIS site very akin to Church, doesn't it?! Who ever said it HAD to be a "building"? Church is wherever two or three of us are gathered...I'm one, you're two, and you know that there are dozens more within this community who would quickly and joyfully volunteer to be the third...

[ September 13, 2005, 12:38 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Eagle Heart, Your writings have really struck a cord with me. I believe God has been calling me my entire life. When I was a child, I rode the church bus in order to attend and if my parents didn't allow me to, I would cry. He always put people of faith in my life and so I did experience the church. When I finally made a committment to Him, I got involved in a church that was very disfunctional and I learned the hard way that a church is just a place where sinners go for many different reasons, not all are noble. When I became somewhat of a leader and taught a class or led a group, I learned that some people really hate you for stepping out. I wasn't very strong and didn't have good boundaries at the time to be able to handle it. Having good boundaries means keeping the bad out and allowing the good to come into your life. Well, now I do a good job of keeping the bad out, and I'm not so hot at allowing the good in.

I agree that a church is whenever people gather to worship, learn, pray and support each other in living God's way. But I also believe that He wants us to be in Church because it is much better to walk the path with others.

Daisygirl

Daisygirl,
I love that image of you crying if your parents wouldn't allow you to go to church...not the crying part, but the deep love that you already had for church and God.

I had such a deep love for God all through my childhood. The only time my Mom had to drag me to church was when there was a Shirley Temple movie on the TV, but that wasn't very often, especially on a Sunday morning. Most Sunday mornings, I couldn't wait to go to Sunday School and church.

Like you, I've been heavily involved in church most of my life, starting choir at the age of 6, teaching Sunday School for years, studying theology for 2 years, serving on the Parish Council and various committees, and continuing to play piano and help to lead the choir right up until I was 40. Then I just completely burned out. That's when I began to experience the dysfunctionality of church firsthand...my experience was that as long as I was giving, giving and giving until I had no more to give, I was a welcome, beloved member of the congregation. But when I became too burnt to give, and unable to bring my guitar to church functions anymore, I suddenly became invisible and discarded. It was very disillusioning.

But because of my faith history and personal relationship with God, I was able to separate that disillusionment and dysfunctionality of the human side of church from the core reason for being there...because it IS much better to walk the path with others.

But, like you, I had to learn how to create and maintain those boundaries, keeping the toxic out and letting the good (God) in, before Church could be the same joyful place it had been all my life before my breakdown. It was during that time of disillusionment (and feeling totally abandoned by the very church I had loved, served and given to for so long) that the "2-3 together" thing kept me from walking that path totally alone.

Eagle Heart, I have a feeling that God put this website in my life for a reason. I found it quite by accident, by searching for something totally unrelated on Google. I was drawn for it for a reason and I'm sure God keeps up with technology.

I have had a breakdown, years ago, but I didn't ever really have anyone I could turn to and I think God carried me for a while until I could pull myself together. I think I've been hanging on ever since, not functioning 100%, but not crashing either. I know I'm at a crossroad in my life, very disaatisfied with it, and waiting for the next chapter.

I sang in the choir for 1 year but the problem is I can't carry a tune in a bucket. But I did enjoy it so much and it is a wonderful way to worship. I miss it, but I don't miss the dirty looks from the choir director. (Really, they were very patient with me) LOL It's better if I contain my singing to the car.

I must confess that I have had a secret dream of becoming a writer and here I am exposed to a whole gaggle of wonder women writers. I would like to read everyone's books!

Daisygirl

Daisygirl,
Since stumbling in here myself a few months ago, this place and the women in here have dramatically changed my life...the difference is astounding and nothing short of miraculous.

I too stumbled in here "by mistake", but it didn't take long to see that this was the most perfect answer that God could ever have given me to so many of my anguished prayers at the time.

The one thing that I cherish above all about this website is that every single woman who is here brings within her a unique and much-needed wisdom and voice. When we connect with care, and speak our wisdom, and truly listen to one another, healing happens.

However you found your way here, trust that you're here for a reason, not only to help you find your way through that crossroad and into the next chapter of your life, but to help others along the way, both through your searching and your life experiences thus far that have brought you here.

You're already doing that, helping others here. I've seen it in other posts that you've written. There's no doubt Who was behind your stumbling in here, and there's no doubt that we need your voice and wisdom.

Nothing is impossible within these virtual halls and walls.

[ September 13, 2005, 11:49 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Maybe if we weren't so burned-out, we could pull together and teach our congregations to be more respectful and supportive of those who can't keep giving non-stop and need to pull back once in awhile...back to that whole "ebb and flow" thing that I've mentioned here, and will be talking about again.

Unfortunately, when it comes to church, by the time we're burned out, we're TOO burned out to do even that.

Speaking of church, we have our monthly 55+ Club meeting today...going for a picnic and touring an old mill on the river. It's our first meeting since May, so we're looking forward to seeing everyone again.

But it means I won't be around here until later this evening. But I'll post a new topic before I leave, just in case anyone needs some new reading material.

Blankets

Paraphrased excepts from Chapter 16

This "blanket dream" happened during one particularly rough stretch of days…my breakdown had forced me to leave my job, the downward spiral into another debilitating depression was well underway, the numbness of losing Mom had worn off and the agony of absence was scraping its jagged edges across my heart.

Nothing could permeate the anguish. I was so lost without my Mom, feeling terribly alone in my grief and orphanhood. I craved respite, and wondered aloud to God why living had to be such an impossibly difficult uphill climb all of the time.

You know, the whole "why me" thing.

Later that night I had this dream:

In the dream, I was sleeping on the floor of a cold and empty cabin. I kept tossing and turning, feeling the hardwood floor dig into my hips, unable to find a comfortable position. Every bone ached from the piercing damp cold. The only thing I could find to cover myself was a small tattered rag. I kept getting up and walking around the tiny cabin, searching for warmer blankets and something more comfortable to sleep on, but the cabin was empty…no furniture, no cupboards, nothing but the floor and one tattered rag. After several futile searches, I gave up and lay my aching body back down on the cold hard floor.

Then I heard the cabin door open and I was vaguely aware of someone quietly stepping into the cabin, carrying comforters, duvets, blankets and pillows and piling them against the inside wall of the cabin. I couldn’t see who it was, but somehow knew it was Him. He kept going out the door and then coming back into the cabin, each time carrying more blankets and duvets and adding them to the pile against the wall. When the wall was completely hidden behind these huge piles of blankets, He left the cabin, closing the door without saying a word.

At first I was too tired and numb from the cold to investigate. Finally, I managed to drag my weary body up off the icy floor and stood staring at this marvelous wall of blankets. I dragged dozens of the softest duvets onto the floor, laying them on top of each other to create a thick, soft mattress. Then I covered myself with lots of the biggest, thickest, warmest, coziest blankets I had ever felt before in my life, and promptly fell asleep.

When I awoke, it was clear what the dream was trying to tell me.

It was reminding me that I'm not alone, that I have already been given everything I need to soften the blows of whatever hard floor it is that I find myself lying on at any given time. My life was full of warm comforters and blankets, but depression, grief and exhaustion had once again blinded me to everything else except my own inner chaos.

Now I forced myself to look beyond my brainfog, and allowed my mind to go rooting around in my life to see what warm blankets were piled against my wall.

It startled me to realize that my blanket corner looked mighty full - there was an awesome pile of blankets stacked high against the wall of my life…a loving husband, a compassionate therapist, a new caring church community and a supportive network of faithful friends, to name a few. And always that beloved Presence whispering hope and mercy saying, "arise, little girl, and live!" if I would still my chaotic mind long enough to hear.

I used to think that doing this thing called “life” alone showed courage and determination. I thought weathering my depression alone was a kind thing to do for others, my way of protecting them from being dragged down into the darkness with me. So I ostracized myself, withdrawing from everyone so I wouldn’t burden anyone or overwhelm others with my hunger and neediness.

But I no longer think that way. We’re not meant to suffer alone. I firmly believe now that we all have everything we need, including the right people in our lives, to help us get through whatever muck and quicksand life throws our way.

We each have our own blanket corner…and it is precisely when we’re so blinded by our inner darkness [mangled thinking] that we most need those blankets, and yet it’s those times when we’re least likely to be able to see them.

But we have to dare to trust that we are not meant to do this thing called life alone.

We can dare to look and discover that we too have blankets in our lives.

Given the chaos of our mangled thinking which may try to dissuade us from trusting others, we may have to give ourselves permission to use those blankets…to accept their caring presence and genuine desire to help, to wrap our lonely lost selves in the compassion and comfort that those blankets are waiting there to provide for us, to allow the people and resources that have been piled in our blanket corner to warm and cushion us against whatever cold hard floor we find ourselves sleeping on.

Sharon, words can't express how much your words this month have meant to me. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.

Sherri, you have no idea how much YOUR words mean to me!

When Dotsie asked me a few weeks ago to be the FA, I had to swallow down a lot of panic and anxiety...let's face it, depression isn't the most exciting or easiest topic to talk about openly, especially at this beautiful time of year. But I figured that since Dotsie is so prayerful, I had to trust her instincts over mine this time.

To know that my words are helping even one person "out there" in any way makes it all worthwhile!

Thanks to all of you who have PM'ing me as well. Your support and encouragement have been a Godsend, and a light in my floundering quest to provide insight that helps to bring hope - and especially lets others know they're not alone.

You may all find it hard to believe but I'm "speechless" today. I have nothing prepared, and don't even know what direction I want to go in from here. I'll work on something for tomorrow, but today will just leave the floor open to YOUR thoughts, concerns, insights and questions. And wherever that takes us, that's where we'll go...

...and if it ends up going nowhere then we'll just take a break today and start fresh tomorrow...

[ September 15, 2005, 11:44 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Eagle, what do you think of the recent increase in diagnosing anti-depressants in children? Any thoughts on that? My biggest concern is for the kids who take them, but aren't in therapy. I believe therapy should go hand-in-hand with medications.

Dotsie, I'm a firm believer that therapy and meds have to go hand-in-hand, especially for first-time sufferers, and IMHO, it ought to be law for children! AD's without therapy are like putting a bandaid on a gunshot wound, or a paper bag over a ticking time-bomb.

Simply writing out a prescription for an anti-depressant for a child without ensuring proper therapy and frequent follow-ups amounts to neglect and child-abuse. AD's have proven to induce and aggravate suicidal tendencies in children.

Good compassionate therapy is admittedly often difficult to find. You might have to shop around to find the one that "clicks". And therapy can appear too financially prohibitive. But I think it's essential, at least for the first time, and during particularly difficult bouts, and especially for children, to invest in a good therapist.

Doctors tend to want to use psychiatrists, but in my experience, I have usually found a greater empathy and compassion in psychologists, some of whom have actually suffered through depression themselves and know first-hand what the sufferer is going through...which is why they've gone into this field, to help others find their way out.

Eagle heart,

I'm just catching up on everything since I've been gone. I just ready your installment for yesterday. I have one word for you. WOW.

What you shared yesterday, the blanket dream, was powerful.

What a beautiful picture of the provisions we have stacked in our lives.

I love when people chose to take the pain they've suffered and share it. You have done so eloquently!

I'll be going back to the begining of the month, to absorb all you beautiful wisdom.

Thank you for sharing who you are! You will never really know the number of lives you have impacted deeply!

danita

Danita, It's all from her book. You should read it. She's so wise!

EBB & FLOW: PART 1 of 3: THE RIPPLE EFFECT

Excerpts from Chapter 20 (another long-but-leading-somewhere post)

I’m a die-hard believer in the "ripple effect," convinced beyond doubt that every encounter we have with another person creates its own unique domino effect, and that everything we do ripples out into the greater continuum. We can never know how far-reaching our impact on another human person can be, or how far into eternity our ripples might stretch.

When we believe in that "ripple effect," two things become crystal clear: first, that our choices ultimately have an impact on the larger world around us, and secondly, that we really cannot - and aren’t expected - to do it all alone.

As interdependent individuals, we each play a vital role in the world’s ability to heal the sick, to feed the hungry, and to bring an end to war and hatred. We become the hands and voices that must speak into the injustice and inequity. When we have the means and ability, I think it’s because it’s our turn to do the giving, speaking and doing. When circumstances render us resource-less and incapable, then it’s someone else’s turn.

That's what I call the "ebb and flow". We ebb and flow according to our means and ability. But when even one small part of the world refuses to do its part, when there’s more “ebbing” (i.e., stepping out of the flow, refusing to give anything anymore) than “flowing”, the ebb and flow is broken and the impact can be felt throughout the continuum. If enough of the world shrugs its collective shoulders and refuses to care anymore, then the ebb and flow diminishes to a deadly trickle. That’s when famine and disease and war take over, rippling confusion, fear, hopelessness and hatred into the rest of the world.

Only a "united we" can make the difference. Working together in that ebb and flow, all things are possible. Fractured and alone, we are simply not strong enough to stem the spread of darkness forever. Alone, we burn out, capitulate to futility and/or succumb to the darkness.

I used to think that being a "light of the world" meant doing great and wonderful things, like some of my favourite heroes – Terry Fox, Oprah Winfrey or Mother Theresa. How I ached (and tried) to be able to feed every hungry person, clothe every ragged child, give every homeless person my own bed. But my roller coaster rides in and out of depression and burnout eventually made it very difficult for me to find the energy or financial wherewithal to do even the simplest of charitable works. Just thinking about trying to do such things would fill me with overwhelming anxiety and guilt, which would fatigue me even more…a vicious cycle!

It has become quite clear after several massive burnouts that I just don’t have the stamina (or the financial resources) to be an Oprah or Mother Theresa. The severe energy limitations left behind by my depressions and burnouts have forced me to re-vision myself, and find my new niche in the context of world humanitarianism. Having been so steeped in my desire – and somewhat spurred on by a sense of religious obligation – to answer that call to be a light in the world, it was shattering to find myself reduced to being housebound and unable to do anything at all.

It took a lot of soul-searching. I dared to ask some of my most trusted friends what my purpose in life could possibly be, now that I couldn’t actually do anything meaningful! They responded with inspiring tidbits of wisdom, leading me past my old definitions of purposefulness. They helped me to envision the bigger global picture as being made up of a vast, never-ending multitude of smaller pieces, much like a jigsaw puzzle. They encouraged me to recognize the infinite possibilities as to how light can be rippled into the world. They helped me to recognize that no one ripple of light is any more or less important than the other.

Even the tiniest battered piece of the puzzle is critical for the puzzle’s picture to be complete. The continuum needs every shred of light we can possibly muster…great, small, planned and visible, or random and unnoticed.

*********

(We have my step-daughter's birthday party here tomorrow, so I will post part 2 on Sunday)

Smile, what a wondrous whisper of light...the welcome sound of your voice brings joy to my heart today...

Well so far I haven't had much to offer here but am reading all the posts. Dotsie I believe with all my being that we are an over prescribed nation. We are as near all drugged out as we possibly could be and I feel what some are allowing to be done to there children is criminal....

When I was involved in Christian activities it seemed that none of my good deeds went unpunished. When I stepped back from that I realized God uses me even when I'm broken and in ways I couldn't imagine. I used to feel that I had to have a big "ministry". Now I know He uses me best when someone comes into my life who needs encouragement, prayer or just simply a friend. Mostly I don't realize what God has in mind until it's all over, and that is the best way because it doesn't work out too well when I'm in control.

Daisygirl

Daisygirl, That was a hard lession for me to learn, that the seemingly insignificant moments and encounters can be infinitely more important to the people that are impacted by those "insignificant" encounters than the "big ministry" that I used to hope God had called me to.

My problem is that I will probably never see how far those smallest gestures go, if anywhere at all, so it's tempting to believe I'm useless, and that my feeble ripples of light are meangingless. But God does have better eyesight than I do, and He's helping me to learn that I have to trust that it's enough to do just the little bit that I can in my day-to-day encounters with the people I meet along the way...cashiers, salesclerks, waiters, mail carrier, paperboy, kids in the neighbourhood, even hubby.

In weaker moments, I still think that I ought to be doing more. But since my energy resources and finances make that "more" impossible, then I have to trust that God will find smaller ways to use me...and that makes it "enough" for now.

EBB & FLOW: PART 2 of 3: EVERY FEEBLE FLICKER COUNTS

Excerts from Chapter 20

It’s a frustrating reality that it’s impossible for many of us to do "great" things or to march enthusiastically into the chaos and bring enough sustenance and hope to eliminate even a small fraction of the suffering. Our limitations and brokenness fracture and immobilize us in so many different ways. During my last battle with depression and massive burnout, I decided that there was no sense in wasting any more precious energy beating myself into oblivion over my inability to do as much as I think I ought to be doing in order to be a viably contributing component of the continuum.

I could not afford to capitulate to futility or apathy. I know now that every single one of us is capable of sowing our own unique tidbits of light and kindness wherever we happen to be, and from within whatever limitations we are struggling against at any given time. The more obvious tidbits include simple gestures like recognizing the presence of another human being instead of counting the cracks in the sidewalk. Speaking a quiet hello instead of passing in silence. Acknowledging with eye contact the beggar on the street instead of shrugging our shoulders and pretending he doesn’t exist. Allowing ourselves in even the briefest of encounters to ripple a tiny flicker of light out into the world. (***see footnote below)

I know it’s not easy. Having been bedridden and housebound by fatigue and anxiety for so long, it was difficult for me to find the opportunity to do even the simplest of those things. I couldn’t get outside to nod my head or speak a quiet hello. And in my darkest moods, or when my mangled thinking convinced me to ostracize myself, I couldn’t make eye contact, or summon enough energy to care about the hungry and poor. So where was my niche in the world then, my opportunity to ripple light, I would ask myself.

There were so many sleepless nights when anxiety and uselessness would wash over me, until one night I realized that there was still one thing I could do, something that would at least make use of those dreary hours in bed. I could pray. Pray for people who had asked me to pray for them. Pray for women and children in grave danger somewhere in the world who didn’t have a voice or didn’t know who to ask for help. Pray for families abandoned without hope of ever escaping the squalor of their refugee camps. Pray for peace. Pray for the soldiers fighting for peace in the battlefields. Pray for friends who were dying. Pray for children being kidnapped off the streets.

For a long time, prayer was all I was capable of giving.

At first it didn’t seem important or nearly good enough compared to the unrelenting neediness of the world around me, but I realized that even that simple little gesture had to be somehow rippling a small shred of light out into the continuum. It can’t be completely void of worthwhile-ness sending genuine care and good thoughts out into the darkness. And if it’s all I can do, then it has to count for something.

I can’t and don’t expect myself, or anyone else, to always be "on" – kind and giving and uplifting all of the time. Fatigue, grief, discouragement, anxiety, time constraints and distractions are a very real part of our daily lives, and we simply aren’t always able to rise above our weary brokenness to extend even that tiniest morsel of life to others. It’s something to strive for, but we must try not to get too discouraged or guilt-ridden when we can’t seem to give as much as we think we should. I think – hope – it somehow all works out okay, coming back to this ebb and flow.

Those of us who can, give what we can when we can. Those of us who can’t give anymore, who are too empty and weary to stretch any further, must find a safe respite for ourselves. We must give ourselves permission to withdraw from the hectic pace of life and accept the help and support that we need from others to replenish and heal ourselves back into the ebb and flow again.

************

To Be Continued Monday...


*** Footnote: I acknowledge the predicament that we women, in particular, face in terms of the potential dangers of establishing eye contact or communication with strangers on the street. It’s a sad commentary that we are forced to live and conduct ourselves according to this reality. All I can really say about that danger in relation to my spiel on rippling kindness is that we have to trust our instincts and intuition, and know that our first and foremost priority is to always keep ourselves (and loved ones) safe.

Eagle,

Quick introduction, I just joined the forum but have read through your posts, as well as the others. It's wonderful to find a place where depression can be discussed so freely with others who understand. I've been struggling with major depression for about 3 years now and am still looking for the right combination of treatment.

But, in answer to your question here....yes, I have! It's terrible to be told that your problem is that you're not praying hard enough, not believing enough, whatever. I had a wonderful woman of God tell me that depression was nothing more than "I'm not getting my way".....and once I got past that, I might just "get it." What a guilt trip to lay on someone who had just come through a very scary experience of losing all sense of direction trying to get to her place.

Enough for now, but I'm anxious to see more of these discussions.

Regards,

Mary

kygal, obviously the woman of faith who shared those words has never suffered from depression. Sometimes we have to chalk these comments up to ignorance. Pure and simple.

Glad to see you here. I hope you'll stick around and share more. Also, you might want to go to the Welcome forum and introduce yourself...if you want>

EBB & FLOW: PART 3 of 3: YOUR FEEBLE FLICKER IS ESSENTIAL

Excerpts from Chapter 20

Depression, especially our mangled thinking, will often render us incapable of feeling like we’re valid and worthwhile members of society while we’re immersed in that darkness and confusion. And the stigma that still exists for people like us who struggle with depression or any mental illness, often renders us blind to our core truths, and unable to envision even the possibility that we are more than our depression.

We need to dare to change our definitions of self and redefine our capacity for giving. We need to rewire our attics and silence those old voices [mangled thinking] that tell us we are useless and have nothing valuable to contribute to society while we’re down and out. We need to ripple the Truth of our unconditional value – that we are worthwhile simply because we exist – deep into our old lie-defined selves and dare to believe that we do have a unique purpose and niche.

We need to dare to trust that we too have a light that the world needs to see. Even the least of us, the most fragile of us, can find our way into the ebb and flow and dare to shine our unique tidbit of light into a world that desperately needs every feeble flicker.

We see the truth of that right here in our own Boomer Women Speak site. How every voice brings unique wisdom and insight into our lives, evolving us, changing us, bettering us, healing us, simply for having listened and been in the presence of that voice. Some of us stumble in here broken, weak and feeble, with no idea of how our own voice sounds anymore, no inkling of our own inner wisdom. We see the positive changes that being here makes in each others’ lives. How the voices get stronger. How the wisdom finds courage to speak. How hearts find “niched-ness”.

We don’t have to do great things to be a light for the world. Even the loneliest darkest corner needs only one tiny candle to diminish the darkness.

I believe that every tiny flicker of kindness joins the ebb and flow and ripples out into the world as light.

I believe that even our feeblest tidbit of light, shining out from our brokenness and pain, joins with every other tiny flicker of light shining out from every other dark corner, and ultimately produces enough light to love the world back to life.

Eagle,

I am so looking forward to receiving your book, you have such a wonderful way with words and expression. I just wanted to share something here and see if anyone else agrees with this analogy.

We recently started attending a wonderful church in St. Ann's, ON this spring and after my meltdown, I went to talk to the pastor there. I just felt I could talk with him and my gut instinct was right. He shared with me that he's struggled with depression for a lot of years and understood what I was talking about. But, something he shared with me has stuck firm...his analogy is that people that suffer depression feel more deeply and soulfully than most others, thus rendering depression. He assured me that he didn't feel this was the only cause but that it helped feed the depression. I don't know about all the others here, but I can definitely relate to that analogy as I was always wanting to bring home everything and everybody to fix them and make them better.

Just a few thoughts here.

Hugs,

Mary

Kygirl, I responded to this yesterday, but it disappeared. I guess I'm being given a second chance to try and respond even more eloquently.

Smilinize is much more eloquent when it comes to analyzing the body-mind connection. But I'll give it a try.

I'm definitely one of those people who appears to feel things more deeply and soulfully than many others around me. I've often been accused of wearing my heart out on my sleeve, and told to "toughen up" and that I need a thicker skin. My emotion-based responses to people and situations often baffled the people around me and then their reactions baffled me, because I couldn't figure out how NOT to feel the depth of care and concern that I felt.

But years of trying to repress those feelings, and years of trying to camouflage my sensitive nature only resulted in me feeling more fractured, lost, confused and misfit than ever. It was only a few years ago that I decided to stop trying to be everyone else's definition of who I should be, and start living life as the highly sensitive person that I am.

I agree with your pastor that this profound sensitivity is not the cause of depression, because I believe that clinical depression does involve some phsyiological chemical imbalance. But I'm sure there's a round-about connection.

Because we're so sensitive and aware of all of the suffering/wounds/pains that surround us, we do tend to want to "bring home everything and everybody to fix them and make them better." That leads to numerous body reactions, including adrenaline overload, other stress-related symptoms and frustration (because we simply cannot fix everyone, but we still want to be able to), and fatigue (because we refuse to give up). Prolonged stress and fatigue in turn diminish our immune system, which probably has something to do with the chemical imbalance.

I don't pretend to know all this for sure, from a medical background. I'm just speculating on that connection based on my own experience and the related experiences of others who also suffer from depression. Smile, Leigha and others here often post on the mind-body connection, not necessarily from the perspectives of the depression-connection, but there's no doubt in my mind that one area of dis-ease leads to more areas of dis-ease.

[ September 20, 2005, 12:22 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Sharon, I'm going to be leaving and am having difficulty typing with my injury but I wanted you to know how much joy you've brought to this thread with your love and insight. I think you're a very special woman and a blessing to many. I truly love you and your spirit.

Off to my son's wedding.

Recently scientists have identified what appears to be chromosones related to shyness, depression, and hypersesitivity so maybe there is an inherited tendency though I would assume it would be complicated by extended stress and/or trauma. Perhaps in the womb also.

smile

Dianne, I don't know if you've already left, but thank you for your kind words...you brought tears to my eyes.

I will be praying for you until you get back here. Praying that your pain will be manageable and tolerable (if not altogether healed!!!), and that your trip will be full of joy, love and delight.

LIFE AS AN INF (Introvert Intuitive Feeler): Part 1 of 3

Excerpts from Chapter 19

Despite many years of psychoanalysis, we were never really able to completely eradicate my lifelong problem of feeling like a social misfit. I had learned to get along "out there," but only by becoming an expert chameleon, quickly adapting myself to the social environment in which I found myself at any given time. This didn’t mean that I deliberately compromised my spiritual or social values; it just meant that in a quiet, introspective milieu, I was quiet and introspective. And in a noisy extroverted crowd, I became (or tried to be) noisy and extroverted, although it never felt completely comfortable. I would come home utterly drained and strangely dissatisfied by this vague feeling of not having belonged.

My inability to fit in anywhere baffled me. What baffled me even more was my constant craving for solitude, despite being paradoxically attracted to these social gatherings. Even while I craved to belong somewhere, and somehow learned to expertly adapt myself into belonging, in the back of my mind I would be counting the minutes until I could be back home, alone in my own space. Much of my life’s struggle has involved this constant bouncing between a profound craving for solitude and an equally profound yearning for a healthy social life.

I could never understand that craving for solitude and grew to see it as a major flaw in myself. It seemed to render me socially inept and so completely unlike everyone else who appeared to be able to cope so much better than I ever did out there in the real world.

Even now, that struggle continues to dominate my life. With severe fatigue added to the mix, it’s not so much of a struggle, since the exhaustion pretty much determines what I’m capable of doing on any given day. The relentless calling to withdraw into solitude has become even stronger since my latest breakdown in February 2002. It’s inexplicable, this driving force that calls me to take time out, to read, write, listen, pray, think, be…time out to do absolutely nothing at all.

It has been my lifelong experience that most people, (including my own self), cannot fathom that profound, driving need for solitude. Some have misinterpreted my withdrawals as being anti-social, unfriendly, moody or even selfish and snobbish. I had often second-guessed myself and misinterpreted it that way as well, until Dr. Q [my awesome therapist] was able to reach in past my blind confusion and help me "see the light.”

When I first sat down in his office I was lost, broken, exhausted, nonexistent and utterly unable to function socially. We had to very carefully extricate me from a toxic chaos of internal wreckage and deal with an assortment of old issues that hadn’t been adequately dealt with before.

Our most common ground became the Myers-Briggs approach. [I won’t be explaining the specifics about Myers-Briggs here…for background information, see *** at the end of this post.] At one time in my life I had been very interested in Jung, and had done in-depth studying into the Myers-Briggs' personality types as a tool to understanding how/why humans interact with each other the way they do. Although I had been able to comprehend it theoretically, and even apply it rather superficially to other people, it had never taken root enough for me to be able to connect any of it to my own self. Perhaps that had more to do with having become such an expert chameleon by then that I simply couldn’t find an authentic self to apply it to!

As we began using the Myers-Briggs model to try and untangle all of the chaos and internal wreckage, I again found it difficult to make that quantum leap from theory to personal comprehension, but we slaved away at it, trying to find “me” somewhere in all of that jargon.

The "aha" moment jumped out at me one day when he was describing some of the attributes of my personality type, which the tests revealed to be Introverted, Intuitive and Feeling (INF). Dr. Q was explaining that one of the strongest, most dominant traits of an INF was a constant craving for solitude.

As he continued to elaborate, I could actually feel the light bulb going on in my head. My mind swirled with the prospect that I could have been wrong about myself all these years. Was it possible that these "character flaws" were not signs of serious brokenness but actually legitimate qualities? Not things to be fixed, buried or eradicated, but bona fide characteristics that I could dare to embrace as being the real and gifted me?

I asked him my incredulous question, "Do you mean that it’s okay for me to NOT keep trying to fix these things, to look at these "flaws" as legitimate personality traits? If that’s true, then shouldn’t I be nurturing and cherishing them instead of fighting against them?"

He answered with great excitement as he saw the light come on in my eyes: "Please do.”

It was another amazing epiphany. Liberating. The end to 40 years of constantly putting myself down as being a social moron, trying and failing miserably to exorcise these flaws out of me when all of this time they were normal, legitimate and potentially beautiful characteristics of my core self – an Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling self I had never allowed to exist.

*********

*** References for Myers-Briggs Personality Type

A fairly simple explanation of Myers-Briggs: http://www.teamtechnology.co.uk/tt/t-articl/mb-simpl.htm

A more detailed explanation (and quick test): http://www.personalitypathways.com/type_inventory.html

It’s best to take the long, official MBTI® ( Myers-Briggs Type Indicator ) test from a qualified professional. Most psychiatrists and psychologists, as well as career counsellors, should be able to administer it. To take the “quick” version of the Myers-Briggs test: http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm

For a comprehensive explanation of different types: http://typelogic.com/infj.html

For more info, simply type “Myers-Briggs” into any search engine and start browsing the results.

[ September 22, 2005, 10:37 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Hmmmmmmmm, now it seems as if my long post disappeared......Eagle, you and I must have something in common here that our things keep disappearing...LOL

I had posted a long post about not being able to work, etc. If anyone sees it somewhere else, please let me know. If it doesn't reappear then I'll post it again in a bit. I'm still steaming grapes for grape juice so I'll be back a little later.

Hugs,

Mary

Eagle,

Thanks for the Myer Briggs personality info. I studied those concepts as a part of a bus. adm. degree. When I was studying that, they tried to fit everyone in one category all the time and some people fit different categories at different times. Looks like they have changed the diagrams, etc. to accomodate the changes people make from situation to situation. The information is very useful.

Your writing fascinates me because it is unusually emotional, intellectual, and spiritual all at the same time. I am so impressed at the way you analyze your feelings from both an intellectual and poetic perspective. That must indicate a very high degree of intelligence. I wonder if that could be a part of not feeling as if you fit in anywhere. Maybe it is difficult to find others who communicate on so many levels at the same time.

Your counselor confirmed one of the most helpful things I have ever learned about my own emotions. Sigmund Freud said the pain of emotions come not from the emotions themselves, but from fighting them. Once I learned that, like you, I stopped fighting my feelings and began to accept myself as the imperfect being that I am. Knowing God made me as I am because my weaknesses fit the strengths of others in the huge beautiful jigsaw puzzle of His creation helps too.

smile

smile, I thoroughly enjoyed eagle's book because it included so much of her spirituality.

Smile, that last paragraph is POWERFUL!

Oh Smile, sometimes your posts leave me speechless. You touch me so profoundly that it's akin to healing.

When I was studying that, they tried to fit everyone in one category all the time and some people fit different categories at different times.

Reminds me of the old "fitting the square peg into the round hole" scenario...and the "squeaky wheel gets the grease" could fit in here too.

For me personally, as an INF, the workplace was always a difficult place to fit into. I could never figure out how to fit into other people's logic-based expectations of me. I was a loyal, hard-working enthusiastic-to-the-mission worker, but didn't recognize the giftedness of my "INF difference" in the workplace. And so I would do everything I could think of (without compromising my values) to "chameleonize" myself into belonging. It was a survival instinct, I guess. INF's can't stand controversy or disharmony, so we do tend to become peacemakers and "bridges".

The result was that I WAS a peacemaker in every workplace, and became a valuable team member, but very few people at work ever truly got to know me well. Or so it felt, because I was forever having to repress my intuitive insights and vision, because I didn't know how to express them without being emotion-based, and so just hid that side of myself.

The other result was that I frequently burned-out from all of that biting my tongue and repressing who I was in order to fit in better.

Knowing God made me as I am because my weaknesses fit the strengths of others in the huge beautiful jigsaw puzzle of His creation helps too.

That IS powerful imagery! Very empowering.

[ September 20, 2005, 07:42 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Thanks for your answer, Eagle, as you knew what I was talking about earlier.

My question to everyone, including Eagle, was had anyone faced not being able to work while fighting such deep depression. Like Eagle, I've been fighting it for over 3 years now and finally had to give up working in March of this year. In April, I spiraled out of control and hit rock-bottom. It was both a physical and mental spiral for me. I was able to draw unemployment for 4 months before it ended but that was a surprise because I'd been told I could draw it till Nov. I know I don't have the attention span to go back to work now, or in the near future, and am not sure what to do. Hubby does work a decent job but we also bought a house this summer, on the pretense I'd have unemployment till this fall.

Has anyone else faced this issue, and if so, what did you do? I'm presently applying for CPP disability and am picking up the paperwork for this on Thurs. Eagle, you said this doesn't count toward government help when it's a mental illness, did you look into CPP?

I'm presently in an excellent mind-body-spirit program for mood disorders and am seeing an excellent mood disorder specialist but we're trying to get meds right, which is such a trial & error thing. I'm just now weaning off one that made me so agitated that I could bite anything's head off and hopefully the next one will be better. The counsellors I'm seeing are great and the program is a fairly new one but so far, I'm happy with it all.

Eagle, like you, I could always express myself in the written word better than face-to-face and did take creative writing courses when I went back to college in my 40's. So, maybe there's an avenue.....who knows.

Look forward to discussing this further with ya'll. Oh, I almost forgot.....Eagle, I couldn't draw any type of social assistance if I could as my hubby sponsored me to become a landed immigrant here in Canada and part of that agreement is that he takes care of me and I don't draw assistance (social, that is).

Hugs,

Mary

Kygal, I have all the paperwork for CPP, but ran into two snags. First, because I wasn't depressed anymore, my doctor couldn't put that down as the diagnosis. And she told me that her experience has been that whenever she has indicated "chronic fatigue", the CPP office rejects the application and sends it back for further "significant" proof, which is virtually impossible for CFS. She gave me the name and number of a local CFS specialist who would do all the necessary testing that CPP requires, and give me that official diagnosis, but I was NEVER able to get through to that specialist. Nobody ever answered the phone there, despite weeks of trying, some days ALL DAY. And I double-checked the phone number. All I ever reach is their answering machine which doesn't accept messages.

The second problem is that I apparently should have submitted the application two years ago, right after my medical leave expired. From what I gather, I've missed the window for application.

In short, it's too much hassle, and my hubby just told me to forget it for now. So much for the great Canadian health system, eh?

LIFE AS AN INF (Introvert Intuitive Feeler): Part 2 of 3

(For background info on Myers-Briggs, please see *** at the end of this post)

Excerpts from Chapter 19

Through extensive reading and research, I managed to discover that my particular personality type, Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling (INF), is relatively rare, especially in Western culture. What that means is that the majority of people around me view and interpret the world in the total opposite way that I do...primarily through extroverted logic. Which doesn’t make my perspective wrong, it just makes it very different. And we all know that "different" isn’t easily understood or acceptable to those who are members of the comfortable majority.

My perspective on life comes from an innately emotion-based intuitiveness. Most people approach the events and world around them in a more physically concrete, analytical and logical way, which would make me appear to them to be coming from a strange left field with whacked-out emotionalism that would look out of sync with the logical norm. That is exactly how I had come to view my own self and the way I interacted (and reacted) in social situations. It would explain so much about the uncomfortable reactions of others to my emotion-based contributions to those early-years’ philosophical coffee-table discussions.

Dr. Q helped me to see that my way of interpreting my world isn’t wrong or flawed; it’s just different, coming from a less familiar, but just as valid, perspective than the majority of people around me. In order to process my world and the life events that touch my world, to identify and analyze their impact and implications, I’m wired to require – instinctively crave – internal (introverted) time…solitude. Time in which it appears I’m doing nothing, when in fact, my mind is channelling the information through my interpretation process.

All this time when I saw this craving for solitude to be a major socially crippling flaw, it in fact had always been my most powerful gift to others. It is what had enabled me to listen beyond words to people’s hearts, to empathize with their pain, to understand their silence when their pain was too deep to speak. My chameleon skills had actually been a gift to others, in that I was able to become present to their entire “being”, tuning not only into their words, but into their underlying pain and need for compassionate, listening presence.

Ironically, the very qualities that I most loved about myself had come from the very places I had most despised about myself and from within the character traits that had most baffled me. It was precisely the craved-for solitude that was empowering my profound desire (and ability) to become whatever someone in need most needed me to be for them at any given time.

My unique gifts of deep presence, compassion and heart-felt listening to others were coming from those deepest roots within me, which made those places akin to sacred ground.


*******

*** References for Myers-Briggs Personality Type

A fairly simple explanation of Myers-Briggs: http://www.teamtechnology.co.uk/tt/t-articl/mb-simpl.htm

A more detailed explanation (and quick test): http://www.personalitypathways.com/type_inventory.html

It’s best to take the long, official MBTI® ( Myers-Briggs Type Indicator ) test from a qualified professional. Most psychiatrists/psychologists or career counsellors should be able to administer it. To take the “quick” version of the Myers-Briggs test: http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm

For a comprehensive explanation of different types: http://typelogic.com/infj.html

For more info, simply type “Myers-Briggs” into any search engine and start browsing the results.

[ September 22, 2005, 10:38 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

I was thinking that this little example might help to illustrate the “giftedness” that an Introverted Intuitive (INF) can bring to the workplace…your circumstances and opportunity to exercise your own giftedness will differ, but hopefully you can get a sense that we quiet, introverted types ARE valid and bring significant wisdom to the company. I certainly didn’t see it that way at the time…perhaps if I had seen my work contribution as valid and “gift”, I would have been able to take better care of that gift (me) and not allow myself to burn out.

Anyway, I was the computer network administrator for a small company, looking after 75 computers and all the related paraphernalia…printers, servers, cables, software, user training, maintenance, troubleshooting and repairs. It was a very demanding job, physically and mentally, entailing long hours (including way too much unpaid overtime) of running up and down several flights of stairs in order to meet the constant demands for help.

As many of you know, troubleshooting computers can be irksome and baffling. Even with years of training and certification, determining the specific problem was still often more a “Sherlock Holmes” treasure hunt than a straightforward fix. I loved it, thrived on it. But one thing I learned very quickly is that users didn’t like being forced to wait while I sat there tinkering with their computers. So I had to find creative ways to problem-solve their computer’s idiosyncrasies without actually sitting at that computer. I did find a way that worked well, and became very good at my job, able to sit down at a user’s computer, go directly to the right dialogue box and fix the problem. My boss raved about my ability to do that so quickly, and praised me for minimizing user downtime.

Then one day he called me into his office and had a “talk” with me. Apparently one of the section managers, whose office was right next to mine, had spoken to my boss, concerned about the amount of time I spent “gazing out my window”. So my boss asked me why, with such an overwhelming workload, would I waste precious company time just staring out the window?

I explained to him that while I appeared to be gazing out the window, in fact I was troubleshooting someone’s computer. I was mentally sorting through the various possible causes for the problem, and for each cause, I would research and implement in my mind the solution; then I would analyze all possible impacts of that solution on the rest of the computer system. Often, by doing so, I would realize that the solution wasn’t going to be the most viable one. So then I’d begin all over again, until I found the one solution that would have the least impact on the rest of the system, and entail the least amount of downtime for the user. When I was satisfied that I had the correct solution, I would run through all the steps in my mind, or if possible, on my own computer, so that when I sat down at the user’s computer, I knew exactly where to go, what to do and how long it would take.

So my “staring out the window” was how I was able to deliver the very service that my boss had been raving about and praising me for all these months. He was impressed, and never questioned my window-gazing again.

[ September 21, 2005, 10:35 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

had spoken to my boss, concerned about the amount of time I spent “gazing out my window”.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Oh Eagle,

I can so relate to this.....I somehow feel that you've lived part of my life. I had the same type of experience at a workplace but didn't have quite as understanding a boss or co-worker and their inability to "listen" led to my resignation. But, in what you've shared and helped me see is the ability to accept WHY it happened and also why I reacted to it the way I did. Thank you so much for this!

I took the Myers-Briggs test about 13 years ago, when I lost my job in a steel mill and then went to work in a dislocated workers center, but also went through the training to be re-employed. At that time, I tested an introvert-extrovert but this is probably because I was coming off 15 years of working in a steel mill with a predominantely male workforce (and having to stand up for my rights..<g>). I'm going to go back and see how I score now and this will give me another avenue to discuss with my counsellor.

I can also relate to your post today about craving solitude and running through things in your mind, as well as soulfully feeling someone else's feelings and hurts. When my hubby & I were conversing over the computer, when we first met, I would totally blow him away when I would ask him why he was pondering something, yet he was 800 miles away. It was just something I felt, definitely not something I could physically see. I could always do that with my youngest son, as well, just "feel" when something was bothering him in his heart.....but he was always my soul-mate as he was growing up. I know that my oldest son always saw that as a threat to him, that I didn't love him as much, and it wasn't something I could explain, but now maybe I can find some words of assurance for him. Thank you again!

Hugs,

Mary

Kygirl,
I took my first Myers-Briggs test in 1982, two months before my first massive breakdown. The results were very wishy-washy...none of the personality typing was definitive enough to give me a solid personality type. I thought it was because I was well-rounded and balanced, but the person who administered the test was worried about what she saw as a disturbing lack of self definition.

The last time I took the test was after my 2002 breakdown. The results were staggeringly different. 100% introvert. 100% intuitive. 100% feeling. (The J and P were too equal to call).

One thing that used to happen whenever I would take those kinds of tests it that I tended to answer what I thought was most right or preferable, rather than what was most me. There is no right or wrong in these kinds of tests, but for some reason, I tended to choose what I WISHED I was, rather than what I actually was. So the results would come out skewed and never quite matched the real me. But of course, I didn't know who that was anyway back then, so didn't recognize the skewedness as that "disturbing lack of self definition"!

That's so awesome how you're able to "feel" your son and hubby like that. I used to, but the chronic fatigue (and continuing grief over losing my Mom) made feeling other peoples' discomforts and ponderings too overwhelming, so I shut it down. But since being here, even that is changing, for the better and healthier. Maybe it has to do with my ability to pace myself better and know when it's time to pull back BEFORE I'm overwhelmed and drained.

LIFE AS AN INF (Introvert Intuitive Feeler): Part 3 of 3
(For background info on Myers-Briggs, please see *** at the end of this post)

Excerpts from Chapter 19

My INF (Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling) epiphany hasn’t made it any easier to get along "out there," because I’m always going to feel like a fish swimming against the tide. But this new self-understanding has the potential to liberate me from the negative self-reproach (and self-loathing) that has kept the real me buried for so long.

I’m now free to clear away the cobwebs of confusion and self-misinterpretation as a social misfit, and choose to define myself with the truth of who I really am. While I don’t like labels, and see this one as yet one more tool in my quest for self-knowledge, I do find some comfort and validation within my legitimate INF-ness. It may not ever be possible for me to feel "normal" because I don’t – can’t - interpret life in the same logical way that the majority of people around me do.

I do see the same things as everyone else sees, but I’m also able to envision past the immediate effect of the events and understand the potential impact and implications of those same events as they affect people’s minds, hearts and emotional well-being, not only in the here and now, but perhaps even more significantly, further down the road. I see patterns and possibilities. I listen beyond the words and feel the anxious heartbeat, look beyond the shuttered eyes and detect an aching anguish, envision beyond today’s decisions and actions and glimpse tomorrow’s consequences and impact.

There is no right or wrong in this Myers-Briggs theory. No one personality type is “more right or legitimate” than another. We’re ALL vital pieces of the puzzle.

I can no longer deny that I am who I am. I no longer fight against who I am. I am innately wired to cope and function in the world through my Introverted Intuitive Feeling filter. My view of life and how everything is connected by the ripple effect is rooted in that INF core of who I am.

But while the INF perspective is valid, legitimate, and innately good - and when used wisely, brings a much-needed gift to the world - the unfortunate reality is that INF’s are easily misunderstood. We do baffle others around us. And you know how people react when baffled by others. So we often need to more clearly deliberate and define within our own selves our gifts of intuition and visionary presence, or we get lost in other people’s misunderstanding of us and may find ourselves sucked into those misfit feelings of not belonging anywhere.

There’s not a whole lot of affirmation available out there for those of us who are INF types. We have to acknowledge that we are not easily understood by others, even those closest to us. So, often, we Introverted Intuitive types have to learn how to become the primary source of our own validation, to give to our own selves the affirmation and validation that we need and seek from others.

Once again, self-knowledge becomes our best ally and defence against doubt and insecurity. We need to better define our own selves as valid contributors to society in such a way that we become steeped in and empowered by our own new definition of self and are able to declare for ourselves our rightful niche while interacting out there.

You all know that I’m still rewiring my attic. It takes a long time to rewrite those ancient internal dialogues. Forty-plus years of mangled thinking, of telling myself that I’m abnormal, stupid, a social moron, loser and could never fit in anywhere means that I have to completely change my thinking, re-envision my giftedness, claim my rightful niche in this world, and then more compassionately redefine my own self. I know now that I can no longer rely on others to provide the affirmation I yearn for, that it has to come primarily from within my own compassionate understanding of myself.

And I have to use my self-knowledge to protect my own self from further burn-out and breakdown. I have to use my understanding of my craving for downtime to more carefully protect my solitude. It’s difficult to find that time-out when loved ones keep tugging at our heart-sleeves. It’s a personal balance that each one of us struggles to find. But we must allow ourselves to claim that need for balance, and declare our craving for solitude as a legitimate, healthy and crucial need to be answered. I’m getting much better at making more realistic choices as to where and when to pour myself out, and can sense now when it’s time to stop, pull back and just be.

I know now that finding my balance and claiming my need to pull back is critical for me. If I’m going to be able to clearly envision my own giftedness and niche in the world (i.e., keep myself in that “ebb and flow”), especially during those times when the sirens of depression threaten to steal it away with their lies of not belonging anywhere, there is no denying that my self-knowledge and compassionate understanding become my most powerful allies in my resolve to make the healthiest choices.

Understanding my core self- in my case, my INF-ness - and my innate need for adequate solitude, and then daring to live within my own balance, will ensure that I have enough energy and empowerment to claim my niche, and to be a valid and valuable gift to the world.


*****************

*** References for Myers-Briggs Personality Type

A fairly simple explanation of Myers-Briggs: http://www.teamtechnology.co.uk/tt/t-articl/mb-simpl.htm

A more detailed explanation (and quick test): http://www.personalitypathways.com/type_inventory.html

It’s best to take the long, official MBTI® ( Myers-Briggs Type Indicator ) test from a qualified professional. Most psychiatrists/psychologists or career counsellors should be able to administer it. To take the “quick” version of the Myers-Briggs test: http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm

For a comprehensive explanation of different types: http://typelogic.com/infj.html

For more info, simply type “Myers-Briggs” into any search engine and start browsing the results.

Well, can you believe that we've only got a week left in September?! I've put out a LOT of long posts here in the Featured Author thread this month, and I thank you for your patience and interest in plowing through all that stuff. The feedback has been tremendous and heartwarming.

There's still a week left, but I don't have anymore of those long organized posts to offer. So I'm going to open the floor up and invite you to post questions, or suggest topics of interest that you'd like to see discussed here, whether out of the book or not, or to share your own stories of depression, past or current.

There are a lot of people walking in darkness, not only "out there", but right here in BWS. It can be a lonely place to be. Sometimes it helps ease the loneliness just to talk about it in a safe environment like this with others who know what you're going through. I know it feels risky to put your heart and soul in print. But sometimes we see light in our own words where we never glimpsed light before. So feel free to write about your lostness here.

I will post some of my poetry to fill in the gaps here and there, but will let your questions and sharings map what direction we take over the remaining week.

[ September 22, 2005, 01:47 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Ladies, this is a PM, edited a little, I sent to Eagle and she in turn encouraged me to post it. I am sometimes a little too private, so I decided to step out here and take a chance.

Eagle, I have taken a similar personality test and it was determined that for introvert/extravert I was right in the middle. Some would consider me shy, but I really just don't have a lot to say unless it's either worthwhile or totally goofy.

My company had a sales meeting for the team I'm on and one of my co-workers, who I only see 3 times per year, kept making comments about me not talking. He also made comments to my boss and it made me feel very uncomfortable. I really did feel like a social outcast or a freak.

When I came home, I made an appointment with a counselor, and she said I'm in the wrong field for my personality. She said I need to look into another profession and I think that is so unrealistic I didn't go back. I mean, who would pay my house payment while I "find myself". I do not like my job anymore and would love to explore other options, but it just doesn't seem possible at this time. I could sell my house, but then I would have to give up Daisy and playing in the sandbox with my grandson.

My feeling was that I could start attending Toastmasters or something similar and work on my public speaking skills and try to be more forthcoming with my ideas. My job includes training and some public speaking and that is the part I hate. I am searching for a job at this time.

Eagle, so many things you write about really hit home with me. I've read several books about depression but they are always too clinical and impersonal. Thank you for your book and taking the time to respond to all of us.

Daisygirl

Hi Daisygirl,
I appreciate you sharing your experience, and the courage it took to share it here in particular.

The workplace can be such a minefield, especially for introverts, strong intuitives, feelers and deliberators. I hope other introvert/intuitives here will come and share how they maneuvered it themselves over the years.

You said you took a similar test; I'd hazard a guess that you're probably a fairly strong Intuitive. Intuitives with any shades of Introversion tend to have a really hard time feeling valid, appreciated and "niche-d" in the workplace, because it's the extroverted logical types who tend to hustle and bustle their way to the top. But trust me, we DO BELONG, even if we haven't yet figured out how or where.

My own therapist suggested the same thing to me about the job situation. By that time, though, I had been forced to leave because of the severity of my breakdown and fatigue. But he couldn't imagine how I had survived in that particular field of work for so long without breaking down long before I did. And yet, it was one of my all-time favourite jobs!! So I had some difficulty accepting what he said.

I would not have been able to switch jobs either, partly because I had just sunk thousands of dollars into retraining myself for this field...I could not have just thrown all that investment away. Of course, by allowing myself to burn out so severely, I did throw it all away in the end anyway, didn’t I!

My view on it is that no matter where we go, we carry any unresolved "baggage" with us, so the problems don't necessarily disappear; they just take on different faces. Until we come to terms with the root cause of our work-related difficulties, we might never be able to completely escape them.

That being said, sometimes people ARE in the wrong jobs. If our job is constantly diminishing our energy rather than providing some measure of satisfaction and meaning, then we have to look at the possibility that our job IS contributing, if not causing, our fatigue, growing sense of disconnection and powerlessness…perhaps even hopelessness (because we see no end or possibility of change in the near future), which is one of the hallmarks of depression.

In your case, if the reality is that you have to stay in your job for the time being, then you CAN (and MUST for your own health and sanity) find a way to not only survive there, but thrive there. If the main reason you don't enjoy it anymore involves your co-worker's confrontational comments and the feelings they provoked within you, then you can perhaps try to find a way to dig through those feelings (not letting HIM define you or your value at work) to the core truth of who you really are...a valid, worthwhile member of the work team.

IMHO, that's what your therapist could be doing with you, rather than telling you to find another profession. Who can afford to do that on the spur of the moment...maybe that's feasible for long-term planning, but for now, you have to find a way to co-exist with your co-workers, and find some joy and satisfaction in your workplace while you’re still working there. It is do-able.

Toastmasters sounds like an awesome idea! Sigrid MacDonald, another one of our sisters here, is taking Toastmasters and raves about how it's boosted her confidence, as well as her comfort level when speaking in front of people. It's the kind of training that would be useful in so many different work and life situations. So I say "go girl! You can DO it!"

[ September 22, 2005, 03:25 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Daisy,
This is probably a totally unrealistic approach to your problem and I know it goes against every cell of your being, but when I have been in a similar situation, even when I definitely did not feel thankful, I forced myself to thank God for the job. I was thankful for not fitting in, the poor pay, the many conflicts, my own personality that obviously did not fit, the way I seemed to be failing, all the problems that arose, everything. And I forced myself to do it every day before I left for work.

My pastor told me to try that and somehow after just a short time it changed things. I would go to work calmer and pretty soon, I began to find things I liked in that job and when I got a better opportunity, I was actually sad to leave.

I know that makes no sense, but it might be worth a try.

smile

Thanks for your response Eagle and Smile,

First, I should say my therapist explained how she changed her profession 3 times in her life, but she has been married 30 years. Can a person who has never experienced the single life understand? They possibly could understand some aspects of it, but not the "alone" part.

Smile, I am very thankful for my job and everything I have. I probably do not thank God enough, that's for sure. I do know He has been with me even though I have not been very faithful to Him.

I think I'm having a mid-life crisis,and it involves my acknowledging my aging, finding a profession I enjoy and can make a living from, but most importantly,I need to find my way back to God.

THESE SHADOWED VALLEYS

Through the shadows of this valley
I have roamed for countless days.
I have yet to see the sun
that makes the shadows glance this way.
The journey’s long and oh so lonely,
I have traveled many roads
since I left the only home I knew
so I could follow you

This path is winding through my anguish,
crossing fields of sad despair;
I search your hand to guide me
but it doesn’t reach me here.
I’ve been losing all direction,
don’t know wrong or left from right;
all horizons seem so distant
and obscure in shadowed light

Why have you left me here to wander
far from home and family?
At the crossroads of my life you didn’t
seem to hear my plea;
now I’ve lost my way and cannot see
just where I ought to go.
And although I somehow know you’re near,
I cannot find my hope.

But I will carry on my wandering
until I see your light,
for I know you would not leave me here
to flounder in the night.
You have said how much you love me -
I just have to trust in you,
for your love has been my constant strength -
You’ve always helped me through.

So these shadows of this valley
will not last for long, I’m sure
your love will be the candle
that will help me to endure.
Just be near and love me, this I pray,
don’t leave me here alone,
draw me close into your heart
and bring me safely home.


copyright Sharon C. Matthies, Feb 1, 2005

Eagle, I have taken the Myers-Briggs test several times now.

Keep wanting it to change somehow, but, the answer is always the same ISFJ.
Protector Guardian, being of service to others what a blessing!
But....
Guarding against life's pitfalls and perils is a bit overwhelming to say the least.
Are we, mere mortals capable of steadfast protecting & safekeeping of family & friends?
You know I do try guarding those close to my heart from life's perils and pits. (Close doesn't just consist of family & friends, it contains any & everyone who touches my heart).

You have touched my heart, thru your thoughts the sharing of your very soul. Your ripple has reached my corner of the world.
My prayers are with you, for my protector & guardian is the Lord Jesus.

Peace be with you....always.

Brenda

Thanks, so much for sharing.

No, I'm not very out going or talkative. Do others really see my shyness as stiffness, even coldness?

Sharon, Beautiful!!!

Thank you Brenda for sharing. You've obviously studied your type. I did a quick read of ISFJ at http://typelogic.com/isfj.html. Although I don't know you very well yet, I could already recognize you in that description. You're very giving. Your loved ones (family and friends) are the center of your life, and you will do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING for them...but the chances seem good that they tend to take you for granted and don't often express their appreciation or gratitude...and you need it, but like me, you want that appreciation to come as a free gift, not in response to your asking for it.

I'm no expert and don't want to begin to analyze any one personality type or person here. But I would dare to say that much of what I've shared here in this forum is appropriate for an ISFJ too...and you probably already know all of this, but I'll just summarize it here anyway...

Self-Knowledge: know where your strengths are, but also be aware of your limitations and where you need to set boundaries for that Guardian Protector...you can only stretch yourself so far before you begin to break...you need to find people and situations that will help replenish you with reciprocated care and love.

Truth: know, trust that your presence and giftedness ARE valuable and much needed, and that you ARE deeply loved and appreciated even if they don't tell or show you in the same ways that you so generously show them.

Compassion: treating YOURSELF with the same Compassion you so freely and generously give to others. That's a tough one for other-oriented givers...but you HAVE to put your self on that list of "loved ones you cherish".

You know how profoundly spiritual I am. But sometimes Jesus just doesn't seem enough...we long to be hugged and deeply embraced by a warm human "patch of skin"...but He does companion us through those dark and lonely roads when everyone else appears to have fallen asleep or gone off in other directions. And that's the one person we know we can lean on until we do find that "patch of skin" (***) for that much-needed hug. I've learned that when it's something I REALLY need, it will already be somewhere in my "blanket corner".

**********

PS: (*** - my apologies for the person here who coined that phrase, "a little patch of God's skin". I've been searching for hours trying to find the post and person so I can give proper credit, but I haven't been able to find you. Please feel free to PM me or post here to refresh my memory on this, so I can give you your proper credit)

[ September 23, 2005, 11:14 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

A friend bought me the Meyers-Brigg book a bunch of years ago. I don't remember how I scored then (and I guess I could try to find the book...) but I took the short online version and came up with iNTj -- strongly introvert/intuitive. One of the descriptions labels it "mastermind" and says that less than 1% of the population has this personality. That part doesn't surprise me, as I don't see a lot of people out there who are much like me. I recognized myself in much of the description but not all of it.

I never had a problem in being different; if anything, I thought that more people should be like me and it was too bad that they weren't. OK, I'm coming off like a snot now -- I really don't want to be a snot, but it was an honest statement. I'm also the rare introvert who does very well in social situations. When I was 18 I trained myself -- methodically, as everything I do -- to be more outgoing because I decided that was what I wanted to be. People whom I meet now peg me as an extrovert because I'm so fearless and friendly, but as a child I barely spoke to anyone. In truth, I'd rather sit in front of my computer than go out and socialize, and the tests confirm that.

My personality type DOES NOT work well in a subordinate position, which is why I'm self-employed. Barely above the poverty line, but I love what I'm doing.

I found this little gem in this morning's daily devotional. It fits right in with the various discussions here about the unimaginably beautiful ripple effects of even the tiniest flickers of light.


“The Liberian Boy's Choir is but one example that even our smallest sacrifices in obedience to God's call can change the course of our lives forever.

It was a hot day at the orphan village in Liberia. The soaring temperatures were inescapable, but at least outside there was a breeze. The boys playing soccer in the field didn't seem to mind the heat because the constant excitement of the game kept them plenty distracted. The 12 boys inside practicing their choir music found their eyes wandering often over to the soccer field, where the promise of fun and the cheers of their friends tugged at them. Was membership in the boys' choir worth sacrificing their free time playing soccer? In war-torn Liberia, every moment of fun was something to be treasured to each of these orphan boys.

Choir practice paid off down the road as the boy's choir was given the opportunity to tour the United States in an effort to raise money and support for their fellow orphans. Little did they know that their faithfulness to such a small commitment would result in a number of the boys being adopted into U.S. families and given homes. As they opened their mouths and sang from their hearts about the joy of the Lord, God opened the doors of families' hearts all over the southeast to experience it firsthand. Missing soccer to sing of God's love seemed like such a sacrifice to these impoverished boys at the time. But do you think they had any idea that this decision of obedience would one day lead to their biggest dreams coming true? Could they have possibly known that so many other children's futures would have been affected as well? Certainly not!

Like these young boys, so many times we are given the opportunity to do small things and make small sacrifices for results we cannot yet see. We may be asking why God would have us do such a minor task or give up what seems like such a miniscule detail of our day, when all along He sees the pearl inside of the seashell.”

excerpt taken from: "Faithful with a Little" (http://www.crosswalkmail.com/couilah_nrzonbzp.html)
by Lysa TerKeurst, President of Proverbs 31 Ministries(Daily Devotional for Sep 23, 2005)

Like most here in this forum, I tried the short Myers Briggs that Eagle made reference to and I scored INFP this time....with 100% introverted and 50% feeling. I could also see myself in most of the descriptions but not all. Does anyone else feel that we could score differently depending on the circumstances present in our lives at that time?

Like others, a lot of these characteristics have been present since I was a child...the need for solitude and nature, poetry and story writing, wanting to fix everyone or bring them home to protect them (what I refer to as a Momma Bear mentality), etc.....but I do know at one point in my life I had to try and raise above these feelings and work in a steel mill to raise my two boys, but this also led to a period of alcoholism and drug use.....so where's the trade off?

I'm still looking for my niche in life and am hoping to be able to stay home for a while and take care of "me." It's funny, this was exactly what I said when I married my Canuck hubby, it was finally time for "me".....so maybe God is giving me this opportunity in another way. Can't say I've enjoyed the entire journey but hopefully can glean some insight from the ride.

Hugs,

Mary

I've taken the True Colors assessment a couple of times, and come out both times a Blue/Gold and it seems to be bang on for me.

I took the short Meyers-Brigss and am an ISFJ.

The colors assessment seems easier to wrap my head around, but it is more simplistic.

Kygirl - I think you could score differently at different times in your life. I think some things depend on circumstances, and also how well we really know ourselves when we are answering these things

So true, so true Evie.....maybe it's the fact that I'm sneaking up on 50 and think I SHOULD know myself....LOL

But, in all seriousness, tell me about the colors test, never heard of that one and if it's easier to wrap your head around, I know it would be easier for me!

Hugs,

Mary

Evie, I'd also be interested in the colors test...I have an old book on my shelf called "The Luscher Color Test"...is that the same thing?

If you google "True Colors assessment" you'll get all sorts of websites devoted to the colors system.

The first time I took the assessment was at a workshop run by a "True Colors" coordinator. After we each took the individual assessment, they had all the color groups (Blue, Gold, Green, Orange) get together, read about each groups strengths, etc. and come up with a "presentation" on why it was great to be your color!!! Kind of fun.

There is an online quiz and a better explanation of the system at:

www.truecolorscareer.com

PS - True Colors - not to be mistaken with another "Colors" type assessment that was supposed to tell you whether you were a Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall and that what color clothing you should wear based on that

Thanks for the info Evie.....sounds quite interesting! I took the online test and rated a blue/green.....which definitely sounds like me, especially with the blue being predominant.

I may just have to order this book as I can use all the help I can get to figure myself out...LOL

Hugs,

Mary

Thanks Evie. I came out "blue" too.

While I was looking for your True Colors test earlier, I found this one. It's long, but fun, and mine seemed accurate. My primary colour was "crystal" and "blue" was a close second.

You fill in the test at http://www.auracolors.com/test2.htm
then go to http://www.auracolors.com and find the link to read what the colours mean.

I took the true colors test and came out primary green, but the results didn't explain it much.

I think I take these tests so I can see if they're right or wrong about me. Of course, I already know all the answers. I even argue with psychics.

Eagle - that was a fun one - I came out tied as a Sensitive Tan/Blue for primary with Crystal second. I don't resonate with the cyrstal description as much as the Sens.Tan/Blue one.

Meridth - LOL I can just picture you arguing with the psychics! I admire your strong sense of self and your confidence.

I have to apologize for not being very active here for the past day or two. I've hit another one of my severe energy drops...they don't happen very much anymore, but when they do, they literally "drop" me, like a balloon that's been completely deflated.

So I'm going to take tomorrow off to spend some "downtime", trying to rest and replenish. We already have a "lunch & play" date planned with our 4-1/2 year old granddaughter, which can be either downtime or an energy drain, or both! But she knows when I'm too tired to play, I just can't, and will often let my lay down on her bed while she "reads" to me. So it will be a shared downtime.

Anyway, I'll be back on Monday. But keep trying these various tests...there are a lot more out there (just try Googling "color test".) Most seem fun and harmless. As long as you stay focused on who YOU know yourself to be and not let them confuse or define you against your better instincts.

Evie, I redid the Aura Colours test, and the crystal fits me to a T. Blue was second, and Sensitive Tan was third, so you and I have pretty much the same colour scheme.

But before I go...this is my all-time favourite “God-moment”. This really happened about 30 years ago when I was working as a camp counselor at a residential children’s camp. Some may scoff and question all they want, but it still brings a surge of delight and joy to my heart to remember it. In my book I call it “The Last Word”.


It was still dark. And way too early. And bitterly cold.

I groaned into my pillow as I thought of the long walk down the path from the cabin to the kybo (Camp Quin-Mo-Lac’s word for bathroom). How I longed to stay snuggled up in my nice warm sleeping bag. But the call of Mother Nature was too persistent and dragged me out of bed.

I stumbled down the dark dirt path, still groggy and half-asleep, and finally made it to the girl’s bathroom. I must have dozed off in there because when I came back out, light was beginning to touch the horizon. The sounds of dawn so sweetened the morning air on my walk back along that path, that when I got back to the cabin, I decided to just sit on the steps for a moment longer.

The birds twittered and sang back and forth to each other, the trees rustled gently all around me, and the loon on the distant lake trilled its comforting presence.

The morning dew sparkled like diamonds on the air, splintering light through the spider webs spun into the tall grasses just across the path from me.

The morning rippled and shimmered with quiet splendor and whispered good morning deep into my heart as I sat there, soaking in the glory and beauty of watching this new day come to life.

Finally, I tiptoed back into the cabin and snuggled down into my warm sleeping bag. Just as my eyes closed, I whispered, "Thanks, God, for letting me see all that.”

And without missing a heartbeat, as clear as the morning sky outside my window, He whispered back, "I just wanted to be the first to wish you a Happy Birthday.”

WARNING SIGNS AND SIGNPOSTS: Part 1 of 2: TRIGGERS

Excerpt from Chapter 10

“The morning after the overdose became the dividing line in my life. Although it didn’t make an immediate and obvious difference to all outward appearances, deep within me there has always been a clear delineation. I liken life before the overdose as having lived in perpetual Good Friday mode. Life after the overdose has been more like living in Resurrection mode.

Despite the life-altering epiphany of possibility that morning, it was still a long, uphill struggle trying to climb far enough out of that hellhole to feel safe again. For a while it seemed that for every positive step I made forward, I slid two or three steps back. And always in the back of my mind was the fear of sliding all the way back there.

Dr. Reynolds [my awesome psychiatrist at the hospital] was honest with me when I asked him about the statistical possibility of sliding back. He told me that people who go in as deep as I did rarely make it back. And those that do make it out rarely stay out. I remember him telling me that he hadn’t seen anybody come back as fast, as healthy and as whole as I seemed to have. So, it was understandable that from the beginning, both of us were somewhat skeptical that I could stay out indefinitely.

But Dr. Reynolds gave me an incredible gift during that shaky time of my recovery. He gave me my own set of "signposts" for my roadmap. Like those little markers at the crossroads that tell you which road will take you where, there were warning signs to watch for that would indicate that I was beginning to cross into dangerous territory – and he drilled it into me that as soon as I saw any of those particular warning signs on my horizon to seek help immediately before I spiralled too far down.”


This “signpost” imagery continues to be a valuable tool for managing my depression. Most of us know the typical warning signs of depression. But many of us have our own unique set of trigger points and warning signs that we need to watch for. Today I’ll talk about trigger points, and then we’ll talk about warning signs tomorrow.

I’ve become keenly aware of my triggers, which helps me to do what I need to do to PREVENT the onslaught of worsening symptoms. I’ve learned that there are three things I need to keep in healthy balance. When any one of these falters, I falter. When all three are out of balance at the same time, I completely lose my equilibrium and crash. They are such simple basic facets of my being, and yet require my diligence in keeping them all in balance.

Healthy Diet: when I landed in hospital in 1984, I was 29 and weighed 97 pounds. Part of that was due to being too poor to be able to afford groceries. But part of it was that anxiety made swallowing food almost impossible at times. After several visits with nutritionists, I learned that while everyone else around me might be experimenting with fad diets, I MUST stay true to what MY body needs, and that is a well-balanced variety of foods, including carbs, fats, and even sweets. Everything in moderation and balance. Lowering carbs is dangerous for me. So this is another area of my being where my self-knowledge comes in! To know myself well enough to know what foods bring energy, clarity of mind, and even enjoyment and comfort (yes, even chocolate, ice cream and home-made cookies). Discipline, balance and moderation…it’s what works for me and my body that keeps me healthy both physically AND mentally.

Adequate Rest: It took me a long time to determine that my need for nine hours sleep every night was legitimate, and not laziness. For whatever reason, it’s clear now that my body NEEDS that sleep in order to be able to function properly. I was severely sleep-deprived when I crashed in February 2002. It took weeks of round-the-clock sleep to pay back all of that lost sleep. It wasn’t until I acknowledged my need for nine hours EVERY night that my fuel tank stopped being empty all the time.

Minimal Stress: We’ve seen the warnings on the damage to our bodies that persistent stress can do. For some of us, stress devastates our mental health as well. This is where that recognition of the need for “downtime” comes in. Knowing when it’s time to pull myself back out of the ebb and flow until I can catch my breath and regain my equilibrium. I dare to say here that the severity of my “mangled thinking” is directly proportionate to how stressed I am. When I minimize my stress (meditation, music, doing things that bring me energy and enjoyment), my mangled thinking becomes manageable…less stress gives me greater clarity of mind.

***********

This is getting long again, so I’ll stop here.

But how about you? Do you know what your own trigger points are? What things to avoid and what things to include in your life?

Eagle,

So glad to see you back on here and hope your energy has returned somewhat. Love today's post and like alcoholics, we have to know the "triggers" that lead to melt-down. It's even worse when you're fighting depression AND an addictive nature (alcohol, etc.). I am just now getting to the point where I can even try and discover triggers but have seen in the past, leading up to melt-down and trying to pinpoint things I said up to that point, I know that lack of light in my life, especially SAD can lead to many down days for me. I also know that too much stress and anxiety will push me over the edge and is something I'm now trying to work on.

The program I'm participating in has provided me with a wonderful counsellor and a life coach, which have both brought many blessings to me. I start in group therapy tonite for 12 weeks and the request is for you to bring your spouse, significant other and/or support person with you. It's basically to broaden their horizons into depression and anxiety and also give them a group to discuss things that drive them crazy about us....

I'm both hesitant and glad to have a group of similar people to discuss things with....hesitant in the fact that I have always kept my problems pretty much to myself (heck, I wouldn't even cry in front of my parents when I was a kid!) but also glad to hear someone else's story in that I'm not alone.

I look forward to the other segments of information you'll be sharing before the end of the month and will be truly sorry to see this discussion end.

Hugs,

Mary

Thank you so much Mary for your continuing encouragement! It means a lot.

My energy level is still very low, but I think this one is hormonal. Even hubby noticed the sudden drop the other day and told me that my period must be due, and he was right...LOL...when and how did he get to know my body better than I do! My periods have been bad lately, but this one really took the wind out of my sails!

Mary, I forgot to mention SAD...Seasonal Affective Disorder. That's a definite trigger for me too, and probably for many other people here as well. That change from long summer daylight to shorter days and long fall shadows can be devastating for some of us. This week and next week will be very tough for me personally...very hard to roll out of that bed in the mornings. But knowing what it is is half the battle. I do allow myself to stay in bed "just a little longer" these mornings (that's one of the ways I apply a little "compassion" to myself). But I have very good self-discipline now, forcing myself to get up, have a good healthy breakfast, and getting outside to enjoy some of that crisp fall sunlight during the day.

Mary, that support group sounds so appealing! I would love to have something like that. I looked for one here, but couldn't find anything. It was partly out of that searching that I found BWS, so it in a way, I guess I did find something even better than what I was looking for! Still, I'm interested in hearing back from you how it went.

[ September 26, 2005, 02:48 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Eagle, thank you for sharing your best God moment! I think it would be really cool to hear other people's favorite God moments also. Has it ever been done before on BWS?

Daisygirl

Hi Daisy, I don't know if it's ever been done, but I agree that sharing our best/favourite God moments is a great idea. Why don't you start a new thread over in the Blessings/Joy forum (I would invite you to do it here, but I've only got 4 days left as the FA before it's someone else's turn...and something tells me your idea will be a popular one...we'll need more than 4 days for it!) I can re-post mine if we need to get the thread rolling...

WARNING SIGNS AND SIGNPOSTS: Part 2 of 2: WARNING SIGNS

I’m going to quote Lynn Tolson for the first part here, because she said it so well, I couldn’t possibly say it better:

“Everyone can relate to having “the blues” on a bad day, when the weather is gloomy, the traffic is tied up, and business and/or children make impossible demands. Anyone can associate a night without sleep to a day without energy. However, when feeling down persists month after month, it’s time to consider the possibility of clinical depression. According to the National Institute of Mental Health (http://www.nimh.nih.gov) depression can occur at any age and affects almost 10 percent of American adults. Research indicates that the risk of depression exists with an interaction of difficult life events and a genetic predisposition.

The symptoms of depression include:
Restlessness, irritability
Appetite and/or weight changes
Feelings of hopelessness, pessimism
Persistent sad, anxious, or empty mood
Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, helplessness
Decreased energy, fatigue, being slowed down
Thoughts of death or suicide, or suicide attempts
Insomnia, early-morning awakening, or oversleeping
Difficulty concentrating, remembering, making decisions
Loss of interest or pleasure in hobbies & activities that were once enjoyed

If five or more symptoms are present daily for two weeks or more, then it may be time to have an evaluation for depression.”


In addition to any or all of these symptoms, many of us will have our own warning signs. Two of my key "signposts" are two symptoms that I discussed way back at the beginning of this forum: Mangled Thinking and Self-Ostracism.

Mangled Thinking: After years of battling chronic low-grade depression, I’ve learned to recognize when my mangled thinking has crossed the threshold between what’s normal for me and what’s dangerous for me. When all of my thinking begins to be tangled up in negative pessimism, raging self-hatred, profound inconsolable sadness and a persistent sense of futility about everything, I know I’m treading on dangerous ground. That’s when I know my need to get into see my doctor and talk about going back on anti-depressants and/or resuming therapy.

Self-Ostracism: These days I am a natural hibernator. I enjoy puttering around my home, embrace my solitude, and cherish living life at my own VERY SLOW pace. I don’t feel unhealthily alone or isolated, and despite lingering problems with anxiety, can get myself out and about as necessary. Self-ostracism takes this hibernation TOO far. When the solitude is edgy and unfriendly, or my reluctance to go out, even for a walk in the sunshine, is tinged with fear and overwhelming persistent anxiety, then I know it’s no longer something I can ignore. Again, it’s time for me to seek treatment.

The thing I most want to emphasize in this entire discussion on depression is how critical self-knowledge becomes in our ability to manage our depression. Not all episodes of depression will be self-manageable! Our minds and bodies will go beyond our reach, requiring medication and/or therapy to help us find our way back out. But getting to know our limitations, our trigger points and our warning signs – our unique thresholds – helps us to get help BEFORE we spiral too far down. If I begin taking anti-depressants BEFORE I hit rock bottom, my depression tends to be short-lived and much less severe. And if I can get myself into therapy BEFORE the mangled thinking gets me too deeply entangled, I can often avoid even having to take the medication. I know that about myself now. I know how liberating being pro-active is for me. It makes a huge difference in how deep I DON’T fall now when depression haunts me again.

Add to that SELF KNOWLEDGE our old friends TRUTH and COMPASSION, we have within ourselves a valuable tool kit with which we can adequately and capably prevent our bouts with depression from totally debilitating and mangling our deepest Self.

I hate SAD and it came early to me this year.

Sherri,
It hit me hard this past week. With hormones kicking up a storm and stormy skies to match here, the days have been dark and draggy. It's amazing what a difference the sunlight makes...it's shining here today, and my energy is up significantly. Do you find that too? Are you worse on the cloudy days and better on sunny days?

At this time of year, I HAVE to take naps...I have no choice, my body won't let me go through the day without them. They're just mini naps, about 7-15 minutes each. I can't function through an entire winter's day without at least 2, sometimes even 3 of them. I get up early in the morning, then have a 7-10 minute mid-morning nap, then another slightly longer one mid-afternoon. Sometimes I have to lie down for 10 minutes after supper.

Funny, if I try napping like this in the summer, I have insomnia. But then I don't need naps in the summer. But in the fall/winter, taking 2-3 naps like that doesn't affect my night sleep. And if I don't take them, I just become so debilitated by fatigue I can barely move.

I used to feel that craving for a nap when I was still working, but a 5-minute catnap at my desk after lunch would normally do the trick. But not anymore. It's a real blessing to have the freedom now to nap whenever my body crashes.

Eagle, do you exercise? Do you believe the increase of endorphins caused by exercise can help with depression?

Since Eagle is probably off exercising, napping, or maybe Flying, I'll respond to this one.

I know for sure exercise helps with depression. I am walking breathing proof of it. Thank heaven I am finally back to exercising after surgery. I am becoming a new person or maybe the old better person I used to be.

Either way I am at least a person again. Inactivity will KILL you. At least it kills me.

A classic in medical literature is "The Hazards of Immobility." It clearly describes the physiology of inactivity and how it causes the various physical and emotional systems to simply close down.

Exercise is essential to life. We all need it, both physically and emotionally. Not that we're supposed to be weight lifters, but simply MOVING would replace a lot of anti depressant prescriptions.

Exercise, it's a good thing.

smile

So, glad you shared this. So important for everyone to recognize.

I've had bouts of depression off & on for many years.
At one point my dad came to live with us, he was very sick...but, wouldn't go to a doctor. He made me promise to never call a ambulance, even if he passed out.
Needless to say, therapy was needed. Stayed on anti-depressant for couple of years.

One of my son's has ADHD and ODD, he's better now... thank the Lord. But, when he was a teenager it was absolutly unbelievable. Building bombs, sucidal, constant trouble at school.
He spent a year away in a hospital setting.
Yet another time for therapy.

Yet again I'm depressed. Mainly due to my heart med's Lopressor & Nifedipine
Causes an array of side effects...depression being one.
Have tried several anti-deppressants, just can't seem to get past the first week on any of them. Worst part of my day is after waking up in the morning, the not wanting to move, helplessness, sadness.
Crying, but I see that as a good thing...release.

Made an appointment last month & went to a woman psychiatrist. Thinking, being a woman she will understand the heart, menopause, blood pressure thing.
She actually laughed out loud at one point. Snickering behind her notebook.
Was I amused... NO. Felt so hurt and shamed, not sure if that shame & hurt was for me or her.
She charged $200.00 an hour for the embarrassment.

My medicines serve two purposes, one to control variant angina the other high blood pressure.
Maybe, she should have been in the cardio ward with me. Frightened and scared... would I ever see my family again. Wondering if every breath was your last. Geez, do people really not care any more. Think I read a post here the other day here about morals and values. Are they still alive in the world?
Anyways, therapy is not at the top of my list right now.

You are right....winter months & dreary days are the worst.

Truth is, I have found a lot of peace & light right here.

Thanks
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.

Smile, you were right about the napping. LOL. Thanks for filling in.

This is where I still falter...exercise. I was in excellent physical condition while working...running up and down several flights of stairs many times a day (cardio)...carrying heavy computers and monitors everywhere (weight-bearing), long brisk walks every lunch and got off the bus 2-3 busstops early so as to get in another long walk home (not in the icy winter though).

When I crashed, I crashed big-time. The combination of burnout, chronic fatigue, depression and grief all had me bed-ridden for about 3 months. Then it was a very long road back, involving intense mental work. Exercise took a back seat for too long, making it very difficult to come back physically. Add to that panic attacks, paranoia and severe anxiety, which made it almost impossible for me to step outside my front door without hubby by my side. That's where I was when I stumbled into BWS.

Now, because of being here and the healing that's been happening in me through all of you on this site, I've worked my way back to doing two flights of stairs about 10-15 times a day, a good brisk walk outside most days, knee exercises and stretching exercises most mornings. It's still not enough. But it's a start.

One ongoing problem I have is that sometimes the high energy output DRAINS me and puts me in bed for several hours. That's dangerous for me.

Sometimes it energizes me and gives me a delightful boost that lasts for hours. That's good for me. Unfortunately, I never know which way it's going to go before I start outputting the energy. But I always know when the energy drain is the dangerous one, so have to stop immediately and revert back to simple stretching exercises for a few days to replenish that lost energy.

The one thing I know now that I have to do is INPUT enough fuel (food and liquids) to allow for the energy output and still have some energy in reserve.

Brenda, One of the things that I had debated discussing here was that whole therapy thing, specifically finding a good therapist. Your experience was horrendous and so unfortunate. I too would have thought a woman psychiatrist would have been more empathetic...but whether male or female, she should have been more compassionate and professional.

If there's enough interest, I would be open to pursuing this as the topic for discussion tomorrow. I'm afraid I might be opening up the proverbial "can of worms" and might not be able to respond adequately enough to all the possible horror stories out there. I don't have the expertise or time to put together contact information for the various geographical areas involved here. But I'm certainly open for further general discussion on it.

Good caring compassionate therapists are out there, but they're sometimes hard to find, especially in rural areas. And who feels like "shopping around" for a therapist when you're already feeling like crap and can barely roll out of bed!

I've gone through my fair share of the kind who did more damage than they helped. Fortunately there were others who more than made up for the bad apples.

Just took the color test. I was mostly blue, yellow came in second. This doesn't surprise me
as my favorite colors are blue and yellow! I believe blue represents spirituality and yellow is for intellect.

Most days, I feel most comforatble right here at home.
Not sure I have the extra energy to search for the right therapist right now.

Another reason for the appointment was medication. Clinic doctor had prescribed the anti-depressants one after the other. My thinking was a psychiatrist would be able to match the medicine that worked best, for my needs.

At the time I made the appointment with this lady, it seemed like I was dancing the edge. Stayed in the house where I felt secure.
Even two days prior to the appointment I didn't even know if I would be able to get behind the wheel of the car.
So, I have moved beyond the point of not leaving the house. See alot more improvements since June, but I take baby steps.

What really frightens me, is having a son that threatened sucide and a father who succeeded.


Brenda

Eagle,
Sounds like you're doing great with the exercise. I have been inactive for much longer so about anything looks good to me at this point. After only 3 weeks, I'm up to almost an hour of semi difficult working out. And boy am I glad. The first day I couldn't do much of anything.

In addition to making sure you have enough calories and liquids for exercising, maybe you should make sure you get enough rest between exercise days. My trainer says in the begninning you need as many rest days as exercise days. The rest days are when you really get strong as your muscles scar over.

I did every other day at first and now I'm taking Wed. Sat. and Sun off so I don't over do it.

As to the therapist thing, you would be astounded at the things therapists share about their patients with nurses and other doctors. Possibly worse is the ones who counsel patients for years and know absolutely nothing about them or their condition. They wind up in the hospital from an overdose and the psychiatrist comes in and sometimes doesn't even recognize the patient's name.

Of course there are also those who are truly concerned professionals, but it seems as if one could grow old just trying to find the right one. Hopefully you have some hints.

Thanks for letting me fill in. It was fun.

smile

P.S. Actually psychiatry is my hobby. I am forever amazed at the things perfect strangers tell me in the checkout line. My husband says, "How on earth did you find all that out?" and I say, "Well, they just told me." He says he's known people all his life who have never revealed that much about themselves.

Amateur psychiatry is a nice hobby for a writer, but don't try it at home.

[ September 27, 2005, 11:52 PM: Message edited by: smilinize ]

Bluebird, did you take the True Colors test or the Aura Colors test? The True Colors test didn't have a lot of explanation for each color, did it?! You have to buy the book to find out what the colors actually mean. But in most color tests, the blue does seem to indicate spirituality and inspiration...in that you tend to be an inspiration to others...so far, I'd say that fits...

Brenda, I don't have official stats to back myself up here, but I am CONVINCED that when a parent commits suicide, at least one of the children in the family will follow (or try to follow) suit. I've heard and seen the connection too many times. So much so that there have been two separate instances in my recent past when a mother has shared with me about struggling with suicidal thoughts. I asked each one point blank, "do you know that if you do this, take your own life, that one of your children WILL do the same thing, if not right away, then probably when they reach the same age that you are when you kill yourself?" They were both shocked at that, and after talking about it at length, the fear of one of their children doing the same thing was enough to make them NOT DO IT, and seek help.

How old was your father when he committed suicide? And how old were you when you first started thinking about it? And how old was your son when he first started? Is there an age connection? Maybe not, but I'm willing to bet that you're all struggling against that family history. We already know that there is definitely a genetic predisposition to depression. I believe that there's also a predisposition to suicide, perhaps not so much genetic, but through some strange medically-indiscernable linkage.

I also believe that this generational chain of suicide can be broken...but only when one of you deliberately STOPS the chain reaction of suicide and wholeheartedly commits to choosing life once and for all.

Again, I'm no expert, I have no stats or medical background to support my opinion, and you know that I know it's not easy. But I am convinced that knowing about the "generational chain reaction connection" is a vital clue and key to conquering these suicidal tendencies. You're not only fighting the disease itself, you're also fighting family history and generations worth of the disease...but once you realize that, half the battle is already won.

Addendum: Brenda, if I recall correctly (and forgive me if I'm not), you have expressed some measure of spirituality, so I'm going to add this little note: I also believe that this is exactly the kind of situation where we can ask God to heal our family history...to heal the damage done by generations past, to heal the wounds that their suicides have left behind in their children and children's children. We ask God to come into OUR lives, and into all the lives impacted by these ancestral actions, and heal and RE-CREATE our hearts and minds for LIFE, because we've been so focused on death for so long (perhaps generations).

This doesn't mean instant healing. But I firmly believe God answers that prayer with great joy and creativity.

[ September 28, 2005, 12:16 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Eagle, never really thought of sucide as following through the family. Guess I should have, my dad use to talk of his uncle who committed sucide.
Dad & I talked countless times about sucide and the sin I beleived it to be.
He was so sick...enlarge prostate, failing heart, heart broken from my mom's death.
Pray my Heavenly Father forgives that sin.
Only time my dad went to the doctor, is when it was employment required.

My dad was 66 years old when he committed sucide.
I not really sure, I have thoughts of sucide, sometimes I do feel I would like to be home with my heavenly father. Do we not all long for that time?
But, I believe it to be a sin to take any life including mine own.

My son was 16 years old, when he attempted sucide.
He was so angry with me, for placing him in the hospital. Between, Snowden and the Petersburg hospital he was gone about a year and a half.

After I got out of the hospital, I talked personally with each one of my children, about the things I regretted and wanted forgivness for, the decisions I made & why. Thoughts, and hopes I have for them now and future.

With Dan... I told him of being so sorry for that time in his life. To forgive me for having to place him with strangers, (it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do), necessary for the protection of others.

Looking back I know he must of been pertified, we did visited every week. Still...to feel you have been put away.
Makes me cry just thinking of it.

It's strange when Dan & I talked about that period of time, he doesn't remember alot of the things he did or said. Like it was just wiped away.

Like you, I believe the chain of suicide can be broken...just like the chain of abuse has been broken in my family. Hopefully, it will carry on into future generations.

Yes, we pray for God to heal my family past & present..."to heal damage done by generations past, to heal the wounds that their suicides have left behind, in my children and our children's children. We ask God to come into OUR lives, and into all the lives impacted by these ancestral actions, and heal and RE-CREATE our hearts and minds for LIFE", in Jesus's precious name.

Hope you don't mind me using that as a prayer....

I pray right along side of you, & all in need of this prayer, for it is written:
You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.

John14:14

For the glory of the Father.


Blessing to you.

Brenda

[ September 28, 2005, 12:47 PM: Message edited by: Brenda ]

Eagle, I took the aura colors test, the one whose url you had posted. No, I didn't think there was much of an explanation (they want you to buy the book!). I just assumed what the colors meant, since I read somewhere years ago that blue was spiritual and yellow was intellect, which describes what I'm into.

Brenda, that psychiatrist should be reported to the AMA. I'm sorry you had to deal with someone like that. Going to therapy is hard enough...

Brenda, I don't believe wanting to be home with the Father counts as suicidal thoughts. We are supposed to look forward to being "absent from the body" and "being present with the Lord", just like Paul. We are in good company! It's all in His timing, but life is hard so we pray not to suffer longer than we have to.

I haven't forgotten the plan to talk about therapists here today. I just got off the phone with Edie Galley. We did an interview for her Internet Radio show (it's now available at www.byforandaboutwomen.com - and it's 30 minutes long - I'm just as long-winded in person as I am here!) I was very nervous, but thanks to a very prayerful morning - and having been the FA here this month - I think it went fairly well...albeit with a few wobbles here and there.

Anyway, I'm still a bit jazzed and jittery from that, so will compose myself and pull some thoughts together for that discussion here this afternoon.

[ September 28, 2005, 04:11 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Brenda and Bluebird, I've long struggled with that yearning to "go Home", but normally it's not the same as suicidal thinking...unfortunately, it CAN contribute to suicidal thinking when we're immersed in the quicksand and despair of depression...it becomes distorted and entangled in that mangled thinking.

It's critically important to recognize the difference between the normal, natural spiritual yearning (while still being able to function and live a reasonably healthy, happy life), and the unhealthy, dangerous craving for respite, which might come disguised as that yearning to go home.

Heaven is our ultimate Home and goal, but we're here on earth for a reason, and as long as we're still alive, it's because our purpose here isn't finished yet. We have to trust God's timing, that He won't keep us waiting a second longer than absolutely necessary! But in the meantime, we ARE meant - HE wants us to live life, and live it to the fullest...the glory of God is you fully alive! (St Ignatius).

I believe that if someone doesn't know what their purpose for being here is, they can adopt this one while waiting to find out...to love others back to their own lives. Even if that's only through prayer, it's enough for now.

Beautifully said, Eagle.

Eagle, years ago while suffering from depression and having a doctor that didn't believe in antidepressants, I read a book called Happiness is a Choice by two Christian doctors. They had a clinic in Texas for depressed patients and my doctor sent his wife to it. If I'm remembering correctly, I think these doctors also prescribed antidepressants. I might be wrong on that as it's been a very long time.

So my question is: Is happiness really a choice?

Here's my opinion - happiness is an emotion based on circumstances. We should strive for joy, which is deep and abiding. Many times, I do not feel happy (even if things are going well!!)
but the joy is always there. It's a deep down, reassuring feeling that, in the end, everything will be as God has promised. It's the only way to get through this painful world. If we can pass it on, even better! Many people spell joy this way - Jesus, Others, You. Keep things in that order and we keep our joy.

I think that when it comes to depression, there's no such thing as it being simply a matter of choice...if we don't learn anything else from this discussion, please learn this...that it's IMPOSSIBLE for a person mired in the despair and muck of depression and despair to simply CHOOSE to either stay there or get out. Yes, there are choices involved in how we handle it, what treatments to seek, what direction to take to get ourselves the best help and to find our best way out. And there is the ultimate choice to live or die, to continue fighting or allow the depression to swallow us whole.

But people who have never been depressed cannot possibly understand how complicated and complex EVERYTHING is to the person entangled in those depths of despair and mangled thinking. We might know intellectually that we have choices, but the reality is that no matter how hard we try to make those choices, the depression and despair DON'T GO AWAY! Despite every best effort and sincerest most heartfelt prayer, depression just won't go away. The darkness continues to keep us imprisoned in that quicksand. Which is why I emphasize here over and over again, depression is an illness. You can no more simply snap your fingers and choose to be depression-free than you can snap your fingers and choose to be cancer-free without outside intervention and treatment. It just doesn't work that way...if it did, trust me, most of us would NEVER choose to be depressed. It's hell, a miserable horrible place to be stuck in, and not one of us here would deliberately choose to live this way.

That being said and understood, I do agree with Bluebird's differentiation between happiness and joy. Perhaps it's semantics, but there seems to be a difference between "feelings of happiness" and that more profound spiritual joy that defies all feeling (or absence of feeling) and understanding. It's possible, even in the depths of despair and stuck in the hell of depression's quicksand, to experience, somewhere in the depths of one's being, a joy that doesn't make sense. It doesn't heal or take away the depression, and it doesn't even always make a significant dent in the sadness and darkness of depression, but it does provide comfort and hope - and strength to fight ourselves forward - if we're able to detect its presence.

Unfortunately the mangled thinking of depression often deafens and blinds us to even that sweet shred of hope, which is why we need caring trusted others to keep reminding us of the truth that we are loved unconditionally. But if we are able to dig deep enough, and dare to trust that God has not abandoned us but sits with us, companioning us in that hell and muck, then we might be able to glimpse it.

IMO, that would be the main difference between happiness as a feeling and joy as a felt presence. We don't always have a choice over how we feel, only how we express or deny those feelings...but spiritual joy is a mysterious paradoxical presence that creeps in undetected, unexpectedly anywhere, anytime, even when we're feeling profound grief and sadness. That experience of joy and mercy is why I believe that there's no such thing as being beyond redemption. There is no place too mucky or unreachable for God...He creeps in to our dark caves and sits in that muck with us. It's that Presence that I believe is the paradoxical joy we're talking about here.

[ September 28, 2005, 04:09 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Dianne, did I even come close to answering your question???

All I know is that I've "chosen" over and over and over again to feel happy, but it doesn't happen, especially not when I'm struggling with clinical depression. I don't believe it's possible to simply wish oneself out of depression, to choose to feel happy, and then to actually feel it to the extent that we're "healed" of our depression. Would that work for cancer? Why do we expect it to work for depression?

We can choose to MASK our sadness and despair by wearing smiles and cheerful faces...others will prefer that...and sometimes we might have to do that to co-exist out there, especially in families and work-places. But it's essential that we not lie to ourselves. Acting enthusiastic doesn't always make us enthusiastic. Wishing with all my heart to be happy and praying buckets of blood sweat and tears has never yet taken my depression away. In fact, it usually makes me feel worse, because I'm wasting precious energy by focusing on an impossible quick fix.

I've always had to go the long way around...in conjunction with prayer and with God by my side all the way...treatment, therapy, rewiring my attic, taking the necessary time for mind and body to heal...I come out stronger on the other side and more equipped with truth, self-knowledge and compassion to help me battle the next bout if/when it hits.

I probably still haven't answered the question. I guess I think "no", happiness (especially in relation to depression) is not a simple choice and we do a great disservice (another cruelty of kind intention?) by asking anyone who suffers from depression to believe that it's that simple.

[ September 28, 2005, 04:04 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Congratulations on the interview...I'm sure it went well.

Brenda

Thanks Brenda. A few wobbles here and there.

It's already available for anyone's listening pleasure (all 30 minutes of it!! She didn't cut even one single wobble!) at www.byforandaboutwomen.com

I agree with your thoughts. This doctor made me feel like I wasn't a good enough Christian or I wouldn't be depressed. He said it showed I hadn't given everything over to God. Very self-righteous. I was struggling so hard and he made me feel worse.

I've never felt it was a choice. Had I been given a choice, I wouldn't have been depressed.

Dianne, these kinds of statements and attitudes make me so angry...how dare people, especially Christians, make such outlandish unloving declarations about God. UNCONDITIONAL LOVE is what God is...people just don't understand the concept of that word "unconditional". We put all kinds of conditions and parameters around what's acceptable in God's eyes, but it really says more about our own limitations and imperfections than about God...we project our own incapability to love unconditionally onto God and declare that imperfect image of perfection to BE God. But it ain't so. Those projected limited images of God are very toxic, dangerous and UNloving.

IMO, if it doesn't uplift, edify, bring light, healing and make you feel MORE loved than before, it isn't the Truth about God. Unconditional love builds us up, accepts and loves us for who we are and at the same time shows us that there's infinitely more possibility, not to make us feel worse about ourselves, but to bring hope and encouragement.

If other people's images and words about God don't do that - make us feel loved and hopeful about ourselves and life - if those words push our noses into the muck and make us feel less than loved - then we need to question those words and images.

Dianne,

Just a thought...

Wonder if your therapist would have asked Job, if he had given everything over to God?

Everyday I pray for my depression to be lifted.
God has many paths, I need to keep my heart open to the path, he wants me to take.
It is not always the easy road, no matter how much we would like.
My hope, faith and trust is ...in his time he will.

Many thanks Eagle...you are filled with much truth and light. May you continure to shine.

Brenda

He wasn't my therapist. He was my physician. I should add that he and his wife divorced and she reported him for molesting their daughter. He fled and we believe, ran to Canada. So much for his Christianity. I think he had his own demons to deal with and tried to push them on other people, meaning..his patients.

I'm going to segue right into that much-anticipated ( ) discussion on therapists. Note that this will be a general discussion: horror stories, success stories and general ranting about how hard it is to find the good ones. I'm not going to be able to provide adequate help in terms of actual contacts or even links to go to.

I frequently get asked about the medication versus therapy debate. My answer depends on the circumstances. For chronic depression, meds would normally be enough...most of us know our depression well enough to know when it's time to go for more therapy. But for children, first time sufferers and serious clinical depression, I think one-on-one (and possibly group) therapy is essential. I don't think children should be prescribed anti-depressants, but if/when AD's are prescribed, regular weekly therapy should be mandatory.

That's often easier said than done. Finding a good therapist can be another one of those "needle in a haystack" situations.

When I was (voluntarily) hospitalized with severe depression in 1984, I went through two psychiatrists before finally finding the third one who "clicked".

The first psychiatrist was a guy who laughed a lot. He was warm, caring and interested, but didn't "get" the seriousness of my depression. Because I laughed at his jokes and smiled too much, he thought I was cured and sent me home after only two weeks. I don't remember how I ended up convincing the hospital to take me back and to take me seriously, but thankfully they did.

The second psychiatrist was a woman intern who looked EXACTLY like me. It was like looking into a mirror. Tall & very thin. The same long fly-away blonde hair. Blue eyes covered by thick glasses. She even dressed the same way that I normally dressed. It was eerie and very unsettling, especially because I was so full of self-hatred at the time and could barely stand to look at myself in the mirror. I found it impossible to be honest with someone who looked like me, and she too sent me home too soon. I called her for help the morning I was suicidal but her only advice was to go out and get myself a cup of coffee.

After my overdose, I ended up in Dr. Reynold's office. Dr. R. was the head honcho and decided to find out for himself if I WANTED to be helped before he invested anymore of his staff's time and energy in me. Within seconds of being brutally honest with each other, he told me "I LIKE you. I think we'll do well together, don't you?" And we did. He was one of the best therapists I ever had. In fact, Dr R. was the one who first suggested that someday I write my story. We lost contact over the years, but he was thrilled when he heard about my book and wrote me a lovely congratulatory note.

I have one more to tell you about, but I'll save it for tomorrow.

[ September 28, 2005, 08:01 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Eagle, I think therapists can be invaluable when we are having a bout of depression, a family situation or getting over our childhood issues. Sometimes I think we expect too much out of them though.

The first time I went to a counselor was when I was getting divorced from my first husband. She did help me, but I attended the same church as her and heard that she was divulging personal information about some people. I couldn't go back to her after that because I am a very private person. The next counselor was wonderful, and I went to her for years. After my second marriage was going bad because I shortly discovered my ex was a mean alcoholic, she said I was so ready to give up because my dad was the same way. In other words, there was something wrong with ME! Duh, I was proud of myself for not hanging around for more abuse.

It seemed that for so many years I tried and tried and tried so hard to just be satisfied - I realize life is not about being "happy". I pored out my heart to my journal, friends and therapists, and I learned that when I am feeling bad, the best therapy is retail. he-he Just kidding. I haven't seen anyone since, except for one time recently, but she was really clueless. I think I've learned that my decisions (and instincts) are usually right and when they're not I just live with it.

Today I had a job interview and it went really well. I'm really excited about it. The interviewer even asked to contact him if I get another offer. Who woulda thunk it? I don't know why I am so hard on myself. I sometimes have to have a talk with myself about lightening up a little and giving myself a break.

Daisygirl

Gals,

I can so relate to everything you all have had to say on this topic of doctors and therapy. My family doctor still doesn't have a clue to meds and especially withdrawal from them. When I mentioned electric shock feelings on withdrawal (and I mentioned them more than once), all she had to say was "Interesting." I am very thankful that I've found a wonderful Christian doctor who's a mood disorder specialist and is presently treating me.....but we're still doing the up and downs of trying to find the correct meds.

I've had good and bad therapists but can say I've also found a wonderful one in this program I'm presently in. And there's always the ones that "could" be good for someone else but just not for us.....

I know if we all hang in here together on this and support each other, it will be such a blessing to each of us. That's a huge part of the battle, just having someone who understands. But, as Eagle said, there's no glimmer of happiness when we're caught in the quagmire of sinking depression.....and the last thing we need to hear from someone is "What have you got to be sad about, you have so much going for you." If they could only truly understand!

Hugs,

Mary

I was blessed with a wonderful therapist that ran The Gestalt Institute in Phoenix. That man saved my life. I worked very hard along with him to regain some sanity in my life and when he finally told me he was afraid my husband might kill me, I took him seriously and left. I did therapy on and off for two years to be sure I had rid myself of all the abuse.

Originally posted by Daisygirl:
Today I had a job interview and it went really well. I'm really excited about it...I don't know why I am so hard on myself. I sometimes have to have a talk with myself about lightening up a little and giving myself a break.

First, congratulations Daisygirl! Keep us posted on the outcome of that! And I constantly have to remind myself to "lighten up" and have more fun with myself.

Duh, I was proud of myself for not hanging around for more abuse...I think I've learned that my decisions (and instincts) are usually right and when they're not I just live with it.

This is an EXTREMELY important thing to keep in mind when we discuss therapists...in the end, WE know what clicks and what doesn't. It's what my next post is going to be about.

I learned that when I am feeling bad, the best therapy is retail. he-he Just kidding.
Hey, I learned that too, and I'm not kidding! Sometimes a stroll through a shopping mall is not such a bad idea. I used to shop for myself, but now have found it immensely uplifting, when I'm depressed, to go shopping for some little thing for my 4-1/2 year old granddaughter. It's fun and takes me out of myself for a little while...and she certainly loves the little surprises I find for her...it might be just a colouring book, but it's the hunting for the one with the unicorns on the front that makes it fun.

[ September 29, 2005, 10:55 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Originally posted by kygal:
My family doctor still doesn't have a clue to meds and especially withdrawal from them. When I mentioned electric shock feelings on withdrawal (and I mentioned them more than once), all she had to say was "Interesting."
I went through a disastrous "detox" episode while coming off one AD and starting a new one, all on the advice of my GP. It literally almost killed me. I learned afterward, while researching the PROPER way to detox, that coming off the first AD cold turkey was like coming off cocaine cold turkey.

and the last thing we need to hear from someone is "What have you got to be sad about, you have so much going for you." If they could only truly understand!
Part of my hope when I published "Eagle" was that it would not only help people who are struggling with depression, but also help provide a glimmer of insight into what's going on inside of their loved ones who are depressed.

If people could only understand that depression is as much an illness as any other disease, they would have a little more compassion. Unfortunately any illness that has anything to do with the mind seems to be open to verbal abuse and cruel stigmatization.

I hate that phrase! What have you got to be sad about, you have so much going for you. Baloney, sometimes the happiest times of my life turns into depression. Stress is stress, no matter if it something good that is happening or something bad. It affects me. Thank Goodness, I found a Christian Doctor ( who has retained me as a patient for those of you know that story) who recommended me to a wonderful therapist that I dealy love. She's cut me loose telling me that I'm doing great, but if I run into trouble with SAD to call her and we would have regular appointments again. She's wonderful.

Dianne, it surely is an awesome miracle when you find that kind of therapist. Both Dr Reynolds and my last therapist, Dr Qadeer (he wrote the forward in my book) were God-sends for me.

During my last devastating crash, my GP was very little help. I had to find Dr. Qadeer by myself, by searching the Internet! That was hard, because I was so burnt out, severely depressed and becoming suicidal. But out of all the people I could have contacted from that online research, Dr. Qadeer's office was the first place I called, and Dr Q ended up being the most amazing answer to prayer that I could have found. He was exceptionally caring and compassionate and helped me far beyond my somewhat jaded expectations.

Sherri, I'm so happy for you that you found both this doctor and therapist. It makes such a huge difference knowing that we have a reliable safety net to fall back against when we hit those especially precarious dark nights of the soul.

I’m glad that Daisy wrote: “I was proud of myself for not hanging around for more abuse...I think I've learned that my decisions (and instincts) are usually right”. It fits right in with my own therapist story this morning. Daisy’s point is exactly the point I want to make by telling this one. It’s extremely personal for me, but, hey, I’m an open book now, right?!

Dr Reynolds had continued to see me as an outpatient for many years after my release from the hospital in 1984. When he switched jobs and was no longer able to accommodate clients on an on-going outpatient basis, we both decided I was ready to “fly on my own” again.

I lasted for a couple of years, but then started having panic attacks and decided to go back for a few more sessions. Dr R was not available, so I went to this new therapist on the recommendation of a good friend of mine. I didn’t really like this guy (we’ll call him Dr J) right from the beginning (which is a warning sign we should listen to but often don’t), but hung in there because I didn’t want to disappoint the friend who had recommended Dr J to me. But over the weeks, I felt increasingly uncomfortable with Dr J, but couldn’t quite put my finger on why not.

To the exclusion of everything else, Dr J was fascinated with my relationship with Father Basil, a Catholic priest who had been my first therapist at the very beginning of my breakdown. Someone should write a book about Fr. Basil, he’s an awesome person…but that’s another story. In my mind and heart, there will never be any doubt that Fr. Basil saved my life. And it was Fr. Basil who finally convinced me to get more help than he could provide. Which is why I checked myself into the hospital. Once I was under someone else’s care there, Fr. Basil stepped out of my life, out of professional courtesy. While I understood that, it also hurt, because by that time Fr. Basil had become a major fixture in my life. He was not only my therapist, but had become a good friend as well. I was very involved in the church and we had many mutual friends and spiritual gatherings, which had us traveling in the same circles on a fairly regular basis. I had a hard time letting go, not so much Fr. Basil the therapist, but Fr. Basil the friend; but I quickly became immersed in my recovery, and was diligently moving myself onward and upward.

Dr. J however, latched onto this relationship and INSISTED that I was in love with Fr. Basil. It was not the first time I had dealt with that question but had been brutally honest with myself when it had first come up with Dr Reynolds. Dr R and I worked it through and both decided that the answer was no; while I had a profound respect and genuine affection for Fr. Basil, I was not, nor ever had been, in love with him. So I told this to Dr J, but he refused to accept that answer. He egged me on, insisting that I was wrong.

So I went home, very confused, thinking he must have seen something in me to make him so convinced. Maybe he was right. I sat with it, stewed over it, turned it over and over and over in my head, but it just didn’t click or fit. So I finally came to the same conclusion that Dr R and I had reached earlier. My answer WAS right then and was still right now. So in my next session with Dr J, he again immediately started in on this. I repeated myself. But again he refused to accept. Then I started to get angry. He immediately jumped out of his chair, red in the face, and YELLED: “See? I WAS right. Otherwise you wouldn’t be getting so angry!”

Well, by then I was extremely confused, (and upset by his yelling) because I knew that being angry often did mean that someone had hit a nerve. I figured he must be right. So I went back home and stewed some more. Then the light bulb went on in my head. I was angry, not because he was right, but because I WAS RIGHT, and he was refusing to accept and respect me. He was calling me a liar. He was manipulating my confusion and anger to prove his point, which was to prove himself right and me wrong. It was another one of those “aha” moments.

So I kept my next appointment, and told him what I thought. He was so angry with me that he scared me. I walked out and never went back. But it was the turning point for me in realizing exactly what Daisy said: I was so proud of myself for standing up for myself and not hanging around for more abuse and manipulation. I KNEW myself well enough now, and I knew to the core of my being that I had been brutally honest with myself. I knew I could – and did finally, perhaps for the first time in my life - trust that my own instincts and decisions WERE RIGHT.

That was a very exhilarating walk home that day!

[ September 29, 2005, 03:00 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

I believe GP doctors should not be able to hand out anti-depressants as fast as they can write.
Since June, my GP has given me 3 different AD to try. They all made me so tried, and feeling like I was someone else. Last one gave me the electrial zaps toward the end of the first week.
These are some dangerous drugs, if you don't know what you are doing. My feeling is, most GP's, are not qualified in this area.
They have no clue to side effects or withdrawal.

Where do you find all the energy to run from therapist to therapist, hoping to find the right one?

Could be I'm a bit leery of doctors anyways.
Following is just a few reasons why....

Hubby works with a man who is seen at the same clinic we are. He had a sinus infection, doctor put him on antibiotic and cough syrup. Two days later he's in the ER. Cough syrup interacted with his blood pressure medicine.
The cardiologist, kept him 3 days to make sure no damage was done to his heart. Was told even a good pharmacist would have caught the interaction. (Our clinic and pharamacy in same building. With a computer system that checks for drug interactions).

My son's girlfriends dad had an out of rhythm heart. They actually stopped his heart beat, (clinical dead) and re-started to a normal beat.
Doctor had prescribed blood thinning medicines. This poor man ended up in the hospital several weeks after, with his fingers and arms blue.
It was all caused by the blood thinners that should have been stopped. When he saw his doctor...the doctor blamed it all on the nurses.

Just yesterday, my son Josh comes home to tell of the wife of the man he works with. Prescribed a medication, was not told it should be monitored...she now has no feeling in the left side of her body, and talking like a baby.

It's enough to make you paranoid. Everytime I am given a new medication I come home and check it on the drug interactions site:
http://www.drugdigest.org/DD/Home

Even the heart medicines I take now have moderate interactions. Informed the cardiologist at two week check-up about the depression and left leg weakness, all he had to say to me was "I'm not changing the med's now". No mention of a future appointment either. Need's a GP referral.
Most of these doctors, appear to be "too full of themselves".
So I wake up every morning feeling depressed and pulling my heavy left leg around. Try exercising with that.

Paranoid or just safe?

Think these doctors need to slow down, and take the alloted time to spend with a patient, "just focused on the patient", (not his watch or the nurse standing at the door asking questions of the previous patient)...please.
Asking what medications you take...some don't take the time to check the chart.
Just seems to me "most" are too busy trying to earn the mighty dollar, and not living up to their oath.
Suppose that adds up to morals and values!

Geez....just gone on and on again.
I am so sad, most people just don't take the time to care any more.


Brenda

Eagle,

Your posts are an amazing source of hope for anyone going through a terrible time.

What I saw throughout your book and in these posts is that in spite of being led in a variety of wrong directions by people with apparent power, you consistently conducted honest self inventories. You took what what you discovered about yourself, looked inside to find God, accepted His help, then set about saving your own sanity.

That is such an empowering model. I wish we all were as strong. Thank you for a month of powerful and uplifting posts.

smile

Smile, Your posts have been an amazing source of hope and encouragement for me this month. Your presence through PM's and posts here has been welcome and wise and I thank you.

You mentioned the "honest self inventories". For so much of my life, my brutal self-honesty has been both a blessing and a curse. On the curse side, it involves regret for wasted time, second-guessing and indecisiveness while I find the best and truest way through. On the blessing side, it involves relentless digging for my truth underneath the mangled thinking, turning to God and recognizing His unconditional Love, Mercy and Truth for me and the willingness to relinquish long-believed lies for those Truths.

It's been long, relentless and lonely; there have been many times I wanted to just lie down and give up. But I trusted that the long journey was necessary and would eventually become empowering. And when I hear words like yours tell me that some of my tidbits have helped and uplifted, that alone makes it all worthwhile.

Brenda, Your extensive experience of these prescription nightmares would make anyone paranoid of doctors. I had that one similar experience with my Anti-Depressant detox, as well as my GP being unable to hook me up with a therapist or specialists for my ongoing acne and chronic fatigue problems. I've given up on those last two issues for now...I don't have the energy to bother.

With the therapist issue, I was spiraling into a life-death situation and although I had made a strong choice to live and would probably have been okay, I also knew that the subtle suicidal tendencies shouldn't be ignored. I wanted help and when my GP couldn't help, I was determined to find it myself, because I knew what the consequences could be if I didn't. If Dr Q hadn't worked out, I might not have had the energy to pursue the search. Thankfully, I'll never have to worry about that "what if"!

I don't understand the growing care-less-ness of doctors. Is it collective burn-out? An epidemic of futility? I don't know, and don't know what the solution is. We obviously have to become more knowledgeable about our own bodies and become keenly attuned to our intuititiveness about our bodies and what doctors want us to put into them. That shouldn't be our sole responsibility, that's why doctors and pharmacists spend years in medical schools, so we don't have to learn and remember all that medical stuff. But the sad reality is that it's obviously not working the way it's supposed to, so we'll have to pick up some of the onus if we want to keep our bodies as healthy and alive as we know is possible.

What wonderful gift's...
God has given you to help others.

Hope you know how special you truly are.


Brenda

Eagle,

It really bumfuzzles me how GP's can be so inadequate to help but yet think they're the answer to it all. My GP had been treating me for 3 years, to no avail and only one med change in that three years. I went to her more than once expressing that I felt like I was going to fly apart into a million pieces and she'd just nod her head and not even once recommended therapy. After my crash and burn in April, I did some research on the net and found this great center that offers a mood disorder program, which is where a great doctor is affiliated. I set out to become a patient but discovered I had to have a referral from my family doc. When I went to her to ask for it, she refused saying she had reservations about that doctor....but wouldn't expound on why. Then, she said she wanted me to see a psychiatrist in her circle and she'd do that for me. My mind was made up though, I wanted to see this other Christian doctor who specializes in mood disorders. She again told me she couldn't recommend him for her own reasons. To this day I don't know why but the Christian doctor says that no one in this area will refer to him and it seems to be mainly because he IS a Christian. So, I just flat told her that she'd treated me for 3 years to no avail and there was NO WAY I was going to go onto a waiting list to see her doctor when I needed help RIGHT NOW! I then told her, "You know, it's no wonder why so many people are committing suicide these days, they have to make an appointment for it!" She really didn't know what to say except, "Do you feel like that, committing suicide?" I told her no, not at the time but she was quickly pushing me to it. When I left, she agreed to look at this doctor's credentials again and would call me. Imagine my surprise when she called Mon. morning and said, against her better wishes, she would give me the referral. From there on, it's been one God moment after another. This doctor had a waiting list into Mar. 2006 but I got an appt. for July (05) the day they got my referral. Another God moment was when I went in for a counselling session yesterday but asked the receptionist to tell the doctor that I was having TERRIBLE withdrawal symptoms trying to start a new med and she asked if I could come in tomorrow (which is today). I about fell over...that just doesn't happen. She looked at me and said "Shhhhh, I just got this cancellation." So, the good Lord has been good and watching out for me in this and hopefully I can get back on the right track.

Ok, enough of my rant.....but when we get to talking about doctors, it really gets my blood boiling...:-)

Hugs,

Mary

Bumfuzzles? Is that a Canadian term?

I'm pretty sure 'bumfuzzles' is a medical term.
smile

Oh!!!!... Do they make a cream for it?

I like that word "bumfuzzles"...it's a keeper! I just LOVE new words...I have this editorial nightmare of a habit of creating new words when I can't find one that exactly fits what I want to say. My original draft of Eagle was full of them, then we took them all out, but then added back "woundedness" and "candled" as a verb, as in "God's love candled me out of my darkness". It's a bad habit, but I love it when other people do it too.

"bumfuzzle cream"...sounds like something I could use in the middle of a nasty case of, well, bumfuzzlement.

Eagle, I am amazed when people make up words that are so fitting. I like "candled".

Thanks Bluebird. When my book coach originally insisted I take that word out, I understood and complied. But everytime I read through those parts of the book, it really bothered me that the replacement word didn't convey what wanted to be said. So, since I was self-publishing and therefore paying for every one of those words, I decided to get my money's worth and declared writer's privilege and put "candled" back in there. It may not be a bona fide word (yet), but has become one of my personal favourites. To me it speaks such tender care.

The word is so perfect, I now cannot think of another way to say what you said!

This is my last day as the Featured Author. It has been an awesome experience, and I want to thank everyone for listening and participating, whether through public posts, PM’s or by just reading through all this stuff.

As a tribute to all of you who struggle through your own quicksand of depression, I dedicate this song. This will be my last “official” post.

This appears as a poem in my book, but I originally wrote it as a song. The first three lines came to mind while waiting at a bus stop. By the time I got home, I had written the rest of it on the back of an envelope. The image of the soaring eagle became symbolic of my deepest self throughout my struggles to escape the quicksand of my despair and depression. And when it came time to write my story, there was no doubt what the title had to be.

EAGLE BORN TO FLY

I’m just a poet who’s searching for rhymes
Trying to sing you a few simple lines
Sharing the song that I hear in my heart
‘cuz the love that I see
In You frees in me
The eagle born to fly.

I’ve been that eagle just learning to fly
Trying to find my own piece of the sky
You’ve come along with a love that is strong
And this love that I see
In You frees in me
This eagle born to fly.

I cherish you,
You’ve carried me through
With a love so gentle and free
And I love You -
You know that I do -
With a love that’s bigger than me…

I’ve been a pilgrim out wandering lonely
Lost and alone in my desert of fear
You reached out Your hand and You called me friend,

Now this love that I see
In You frees in me
The eagle born to fly.

Yes, the love that I see
In You frees in me
This eagle born to fly….

Copyright Sharon C. Matthies, 1983, Dartmouth, NS, Canada

That is so beautiful Eagle...I just ordered your book, less than 5 minutes ago. I cannot wait to get it. You are quite the weaver of words, which convey such depth of feeling. God bless you for using your talent to touch others.

I have to wipe my eyes so I can go wake up my kiddies for school...

Thank you Eagle for the song, the book, and for a month of beautiful uplifting posts.

May you truly take flight as you have inspired us all.

smile

Eagle, you are an amazing woman who is being used as an instrument of God to help lead, guide and heal others. Your picture on the back cover shows your gentleness and sweet spirit but your words show power, wisdom and wonder. You've done a wonderful job on this forum and God only knows how many you've helped with your loving words. You are an inspiration. We love you!

Eagle, you have blessed me with your story and responses to all of our posts. As we're going through our trials sometimes we can't understand what good will come of it, but God will always turn the bad into good if we only allow Him. I'm glad you did. You have helped many women on this board and I'm sure that we're just the tip of the iceberg.

God bless you and keep you well,

Daisygirl

Bluebird, Smile, Dianne and Daisy, thank you for your generous words. It has been an awesome experience getting to know everyone better here this past month.

Dotsie informed me that this forum will still be available indefinitely, but I don't want it to overshadow or intrude on the incoming October Featured Author. So if there IS any further discussion on this, I'll be keeping it low-key and may look into transferring new posts to another forum.

But just in case anyone DOES post here, I'll be out of town for the next week or two. We're leaving tomorrow to go help hubby's daughter move into her new house in Montreal, but first we have to renovate her basement. I hope to get online from her computer once in awhile, but we're going to be quite busy, so I won't be here as much as I have over the past month! ...wonder if I'll go through withdrawal symptoms...

So if there are any more questions or afterthoughts posted here, and I don't respond right away, that's why.

Eagle - this is not just a cliche, the check's in the mail! Can't wait to get your book!

I've got your book, and I cherish it. I'm quite sure I'll be referring to it over and over again.

Thanks for all your help.

Sherri

Ditto to all said here. Really enjoyed your time as featured author - I learned a lot

Eagle Heart,

In the past few months that you've been here at BWS, you've absolutely blossomed and are a blessing to us all.

Thanks for the great turn as Featured Author. Your compassion and passion shine through.

I couldn't agree more with The Divine Ms M's words. I have your book and it has a special place in my collection. Thank you for always being so thorough for everyone, and compassionate.

JJ

I couldn't agree more!

I'm praying for you Eagle!

Eagle, I am sending prayers your way as well. I enjoyed you as featured author although I was a reader, not participator. You are a blessing to me too. Take good care of yourself.
chick

You gals are such a soothing balm for my soul. I wasn't expecting these posts at all, but they have been so heartwarming. I had a very tough morning this morning...and let me warn you that mixing tears with plaster dust is downright messy!

As I was weeping and sanding away, I could hear the Lord calling me outside to sit with Him for awhile. It was such a gorgeous morning, so I was glad to get out there, and sat in the back yard for close to an hour, just pouring out my heart to him...and trying to hear Him telling me to be patient and to keep trusting...and to definitely not run away.

When hubby came out to see if I was okay, we were able to talk and that cleared the air a bit more (well, it did nothing for the plaster dust, but that's tomorrow's job).

My biggest problem is that my hyper-sensitivity seems to be extreme these days, and I'm feeling terribly insecure and emotionally needy for some unknown reason...although it could be the upcoming anniversary of Mom's death, as well as so many drastic changes in routine and environment lately. And hubby's very tired from all the non-stop work he's been doing since June...so I think we're just both immersed in our own individual overload situation right now and our "we-ness" is getting forgotten in the exhaustion.

I don't often ask for help, because there are so many others out there in worse need than I am...but on Saturday morning when I thought I couldn't keep going, I clearly heard the Lord encourage me to "take it to the girls...they'll lift you up". I did, and you did, and it worked. And how can I ever thank you all for being there for/with me like that. You've made a tremendous difference, and it's even more clear how wondrously God really is working through our prayers and connections here!

[ October 05, 2005, 10:46 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Eagle, please try to find peace in knowing all things work for good for those who love the Lord. Keep leaning on Him for guidance. Feel His love for you and desire for your contentment. Soak it in to the core of your heart. Feel love from Him...and all your sisters in Christ at BWS. I'm forever carrying you and my other sisters in prayer. It'a great way to occupy the mind. Please don't run...

Just got Eagle's book - already on chapter 2! Don't want to put it down but we have to go out!!