holistically: emotional
I've got skills. Maybe not Liam Neeson-level skills, but I have some useful ones. I have skills and knowledge that assist me with helping others. This same skillset supposedly helps myself, too. If someone wants help with breathing techniques when they feel anxious? I know how to find helpful tools. If someone's feeling squirrelly after something huge and upsetting? I know how to normalize what they're feeling (because other people feel those huge, earth-shaking emotions, too in the face of trauma).
If you're a helping professional and/or work in the human services, do you ever have trouble reconciling your own knowledge with what you're feeling? As in, "my rational, professional knowledge base tells me that it is normal to feel [enter emotion here] based on this situation. Why did this hit me so hard, then? I knew it was coming?!" Oh yeah. Helping professional or not: we're all human. That's why. Doh!
Life has been quite the learning experience lately during my schooling while I'm recovering from grief. And other loss, too. Loss from long ago, loss of parts of my identity, and loss due to a couple life changes. I've had incredible supports, and I'm ok most of the time. Even when I'm shaken or raw, I'm still ok, just less so. Life has been a rollercoaster in learning how to live it in a new context (school) that's somewhat familiar (I've been in school before) but altogether different for me, as I'm a different person this time around.
Let me turn the lens to something else for a moment: there exists copious literature on how to process and deal with grief (and a plethora of other upsetting issues). Just do a Google search (though I warn you of the quality of some articles....................) Seek professional help when possible or at least professional advice to suss out the dross from the actually helpful.
However, there also exists an overarching pressure to "get over" or to "move on" from these upsetting things. Sure, you can ugly cry RIGHT AFTER you lose someone, but what about 2 months down the road? 1 year? 2 years? 10 years?
As a helping professional, I'd tell you: "ugly cry all you want. In fact, let's simply call it crying. It's normal and actually potentially healing to cry (hard or not) when you feel like crap."
As a human in North America, I would feel embarrassed, ashamed, and "crazy" for crying hard over a loss that happened more than a couple months ago. Why, though?
There's the crux of the issue: sure, you're ok to be stuck in pain right after a loss, but when the rest of the world around you has "moved on," it's assumed that you have, too. Most of us know, however, that that's bullshit.
I'd like to offer an alternative discourse: a discourse of moving with. With whom, might you ask? The person you've lost. Carry them with you. A friend of mine reminded me of something I knew in the dark, dusty corners of my brain but had forgotten: the importance of ritual and honouring a lost loved one. Do this.
If the loss was complicated, however, ignore what I just said and seek some professional help in aiding you with your maelstrom of feelings. That's a topic for another time. Grief is messy. Complicated grief is even messier. They're not on a hierarchy, really, but are more like apples and oranges in a fruit basket of pain. Grief (the apple) is difficult to crunch and digest, but there's a relatively expected/known method to eating and processing the fruit. Complicated grief (the orange) can explode, sting your lips if your skin is dried out, it doesn't open properly if the peel is on there too damn tightly, and it can surprise you with crunchy seeds when you least expect it. It takes forever to peel and eat an orange most of the time, doesn't it (if it doesn't for you, then think of another complicated fruit....pomegranate maybe?).
Again, that's a topic for another time.
If you've lost someone you deeply cared for, do your best to dissipate the pressures of getting over it when it seems everyone else has. I'd argue that "everyone else" likely hasn't completely, either, even if it seems like it. Honour your feelings. Cry your heart out when you need to. Bring your loved one along in your proverbial pocket to the good times and bad times ahead. If there are celebrations coming up that meant a lot for you and that loved one, do something to remember them. Light a candle, eat a cookie or candy they liked (thanks my friend for that suggestion), pray to them, write about them, go play a game outside (basketball? soccer? wall-ball?) or go for a walk. The options are endless but need to be meaningful to you.
Take your time. As familiar as an apple is, it can still surprise you. Has anyone ever found a worm in theirs before? I haven't. Happened with a peach once, though. That was unfortunate. I digress. Even if the apple is something you know about, you still need to take your time. It sucks to get apple chunks lodged in your throat, so chew it slowly, process it bit by bit--however long that takes. But, here's the parallel challenge: live your damn life.
It'll feel awkward and painful to be happy or content sometimes. That's normal. It's also imperative, then, to enjoy moments, occasions, rise up to challenges life hands you WITH THE OTHER PERSON. Bring them along. You can't leave them at home, or at the grave, or in the dark recesses of your mind where your skeletons hide with dust and cobwebs building up. They'll haunt you (they probably hate cobwebs as much as you do). Bring them into the daylight with you. Carry them in your heart. Acknowledge their presence and live your life.
Easier said than done, but in truth: we're all in this together. We don't leave a soldier behind, right? We've got to carry each other, in life or in death, because a person's impact does not extinguish in physical death. It simply changes. Move with that person in your life: don't move on.
Welcome to Holistically Inclined: a wee blog consisting of anecdotes, tips, and resources that is (hopefully) helpful for your mind, body, and spirit. What is "holistic?" Glad you asked! For a super-brief description, please check your trusty dictionary. To explore the term further, please "stay tuned"...
Friday, September 23, 2016
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Where is she?
holistically: holistic
I look for her. Sometimes unconsciously. My heart's muscle memory grabs for her when a familiar song comes on, I watch a movie, I go somewhere, I see a certain colour or hear a certain sound... you get the picture. The triggers can be subtle, the triggers can be obvious, or they can be random as... well... random. When I can't find my best friend and the realization settles in like poison that she's not coming back, I droop. I get numb. I ache. I feel lost.
I know that feeling well and if you've ever lost someone, you may have felt it, too. When my father died it was the same thing: lumbering around life, looking for him, looking for a shred of his presence to ease my pain.
Within the feeling of being lost more recently, came a realization: I'm not only looking for her and for my father, I'm looking for me. I'm trying to find who I was and who I am now that all of this has happened.
The notion of searching for oneself sounds cliché but that's because it's common. We want to feel whole. We want to feel as though we know ourselves best and be confident in who that is. The problem is that we don't want to do the work just yet. In pain it becomes difficult to muster strength to change or assimilate new information. Basic tasks have to be relearned anyway and that seems to be where most energy goes after a loss.
That said, if you find a shred of hope or light, your gaze can shift toward the light. Yes, we can also start looking in darker places. It's ok to dabble sometimes as long as you don't stay there. In terms of the lighter side of things, I turned to the usual suspects the most (friends, family, my cats). Or my bed. Lately, however, I've turned to podcasts.
The podcast journey started because of my genius, beautiful sister-in-law. Instead of jamming out to tunes in the car, she and her husband listen to an incredibly engaging podcast called Serial. You can listen to this podcast on whatever app you desire (both Apple and Android stores should have a compatible app). I use CastBox (http://castbox.fm/).
Being me, I eagerly began subscribing to any and every podcast that tickled my fancy. Plenty of podcasts exist for everything from self-help to learning French to Science to Serial's uncanny ability to plunge you into the vortex of a single case's every winding, curvy detail for a season.
One podcast took me by surprise. Sure, I support happy, rainbow-filled literature, websites, discussions, etc. However, most of the time, I crave something more real and down to earth. Hence, when I subscribed to Vibrant Happy Women, I had my doubts but a part of me craved the sunshine that the title promised. Well, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. It's better.
Each episode focuses on a woman who has been through some shit. I believe the first one I listened to featured a mom from the Sandy Hook incident back in 2012. Her humanity astounded me. I was humbled, inspired, and dumbfounded by her forgiving, beautiful perspective on the world. I ended that podcast feeling that if she could forgive and see things in a new light, then why can't I?!
Another episode featured a woman who struggled with depression and anxiety. Now that is something all too many of us can identify with. Again, I felt humbled, inspired, and wanted to shift my thinking on my own life.
I've listened to about 15 episodes now. All feature different women who have gone through different plights of varying magnitudes and their transformations have been anywhere from subtle to ginormous. The captain of the podcast ship is Jen Riday. She's a life coach and a calming, warm presence. A magnificent force and woman herself, she curates other magnificent women to show us that we're all so different and so much the same.
So what the hell have I found on this podcast journey? Myself. Not a whole being or formula or graph that denotes specific qualities and emotions, but humble truths that have always been there but have been in hiding.
The first truth: we've ALL gone through something that we found difficult and/or are still going through it. Be kind--to yourself and to others. It's easier than you think.
The second and perhaps most important truth: you have to help yourself before you can help others.
Every woman on Jen's show is asked what some of their favourite quotes are, what they've been through, how they've come out of it, and what advice would they give to others. The main answer to the advice question was answered in a few ways, but a couple of note are the airplane analogy (put your own oxygen mask on first), or simply that you need to take care of yourself before and in order to take care of others. I addressed this issue in a previous post, "Physician: Heal Thyself." I believed the notion when I wrote it, but I didn't quite grasp that I could do it myself until I started hearing other women talk about it.
That's a paradox, I know: relying on other women to tell me I can do something that's supposed to be self-driving. Well, it's true. Because of these women I've only ever heard and never seen, I started to realize that I only have to look two places in order to help and find myself: to other people, and in the mirror. I feel so different and inadequate compared to others sometimes, until I hear their vulnerability and strength. I hear a voice inside me that says "Yes! I've felt that way!" or "OMG you do that TOO?!" I feel connected to something deeper than lil' ol' me.
When I look in the mirror, I start to see me. I start to see that I have some of the qualities these women have: resilience, vulnerability, strength, fallibility, and humanity. Sure, I can strive for other things throughout my life but those are more material or superficial goals. We certainly get wrapped up in those material goals: lose weight, be physically stronger, read a thousand books, be an early morning person and a social butterfly, know all the things, etc. The qualities (resilience, vulnerability, etc.) I mentioned before these material things are timeless and priceless.
Resilience is not something you can achieve through a 30 day program or a Facebook group challenge. It's inherent in all of us and is stoked when we're tested by life's trials. It's there. All you have to do is look back when you've struggled. If you're still alive, then you were resilient. Cut yourself some damn slack.
All you have to do is look in the mirror and realize that you have what it takes because you are you. I have what it takes to thrive because I am me. The people I lost loved me (thank God for that!). That love stemmed from a connection and recognition of similar qualities in each other. Take a moment and think about why you love certain people in your life. I bet you can come up with a few common qualities between them and lil' ol' you.
So maybe love yourself a little bit more. Cut yourself some slack. It's ok to look for yourself sometimes, but I challenge you to find yourself sometimes, too.
I look for her. Sometimes unconsciously. My heart's muscle memory grabs for her when a familiar song comes on, I watch a movie, I go somewhere, I see a certain colour or hear a certain sound... you get the picture. The triggers can be subtle, the triggers can be obvious, or they can be random as... well... random. When I can't find my best friend and the realization settles in like poison that she's not coming back, I droop. I get numb. I ache. I feel lost.
I know that feeling well and if you've ever lost someone, you may have felt it, too. When my father died it was the same thing: lumbering around life, looking for him, looking for a shred of his presence to ease my pain.
Within the feeling of being lost more recently, came a realization: I'm not only looking for her and for my father, I'm looking for me. I'm trying to find who I was and who I am now that all of this has happened.
The notion of searching for oneself sounds cliché but that's because it's common. We want to feel whole. We want to feel as though we know ourselves best and be confident in who that is. The problem is that we don't want to do the work just yet. In pain it becomes difficult to muster strength to change or assimilate new information. Basic tasks have to be relearned anyway and that seems to be where most energy goes after a loss.
That said, if you find a shred of hope or light, your gaze can shift toward the light. Yes, we can also start looking in darker places. It's ok to dabble sometimes as long as you don't stay there. In terms of the lighter side of things, I turned to the usual suspects the most (friends, family, my cats). Or my bed. Lately, however, I've turned to podcasts.
The podcast journey started because of my genius, beautiful sister-in-law. Instead of jamming out to tunes in the car, she and her husband listen to an incredibly engaging podcast called Serial. You can listen to this podcast on whatever app you desire (both Apple and Android stores should have a compatible app). I use CastBox (http://castbox.fm/).
Being me, I eagerly began subscribing to any and every podcast that tickled my fancy. Plenty of podcasts exist for everything from self-help to learning French to Science to Serial's uncanny ability to plunge you into the vortex of a single case's every winding, curvy detail for a season.
One podcast took me by surprise. Sure, I support happy, rainbow-filled literature, websites, discussions, etc. However, most of the time, I crave something more real and down to earth. Hence, when I subscribed to Vibrant Happy Women, I had my doubts but a part of me craved the sunshine that the title promised. Well, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. It's better.
Each episode focuses on a woman who has been through some shit. I believe the first one I listened to featured a mom from the Sandy Hook incident back in 2012. Her humanity astounded me. I was humbled, inspired, and dumbfounded by her forgiving, beautiful perspective on the world. I ended that podcast feeling that if she could forgive and see things in a new light, then why can't I?!
Another episode featured a woman who struggled with depression and anxiety. Now that is something all too many of us can identify with. Again, I felt humbled, inspired, and wanted to shift my thinking on my own life.
I've listened to about 15 episodes now. All feature different women who have gone through different plights of varying magnitudes and their transformations have been anywhere from subtle to ginormous. The captain of the podcast ship is Jen Riday. She's a life coach and a calming, warm presence. A magnificent force and woman herself, she curates other magnificent women to show us that we're all so different and so much the same.
So what the hell have I found on this podcast journey? Myself. Not a whole being or formula or graph that denotes specific qualities and emotions, but humble truths that have always been there but have been in hiding.
The first truth: we've ALL gone through something that we found difficult and/or are still going through it. Be kind--to yourself and to others. It's easier than you think.
The second and perhaps most important truth: you have to help yourself before you can help others.
Every woman on Jen's show is asked what some of their favourite quotes are, what they've been through, how they've come out of it, and what advice would they give to others. The main answer to the advice question was answered in a few ways, but a couple of note are the airplane analogy (put your own oxygen mask on first), or simply that you need to take care of yourself before and in order to take care of others. I addressed this issue in a previous post, "Physician: Heal Thyself." I believed the notion when I wrote it, but I didn't quite grasp that I could do it myself until I started hearing other women talk about it.
That's a paradox, I know: relying on other women to tell me I can do something that's supposed to be self-driving. Well, it's true. Because of these women I've only ever heard and never seen, I started to realize that I only have to look two places in order to help and find myself: to other people, and in the mirror. I feel so different and inadequate compared to others sometimes, until I hear their vulnerability and strength. I hear a voice inside me that says "Yes! I've felt that way!" or "OMG you do that TOO?!" I feel connected to something deeper than lil' ol' me.
When I look in the mirror, I start to see me. I start to see that I have some of the qualities these women have: resilience, vulnerability, strength, fallibility, and humanity. Sure, I can strive for other things throughout my life but those are more material or superficial goals. We certainly get wrapped up in those material goals: lose weight, be physically stronger, read a thousand books, be an early morning person and a social butterfly, know all the things, etc. The qualities (resilience, vulnerability, etc.) I mentioned before these material things are timeless and priceless.
Resilience is not something you can achieve through a 30 day program or a Facebook group challenge. It's inherent in all of us and is stoked when we're tested by life's trials. It's there. All you have to do is look back when you've struggled. If you're still alive, then you were resilient. Cut yourself some damn slack.
All you have to do is look in the mirror and realize that you have what it takes because you are you. I have what it takes to thrive because I am me. The people I lost loved me (thank God for that!). That love stemmed from a connection and recognition of similar qualities in each other. Take a moment and think about why you love certain people in your life. I bet you can come up with a few common qualities between them and lil' ol' you.
So maybe love yourself a little bit more. Cut yourself some slack. It's ok to look for yourself sometimes, but I challenge you to find yourself sometimes, too.
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
The perfectly imperfect
holistically: emotional, social
There's been a theme here since March: loss, grieving, and dealing with pain. I promise there's growth in here, hope, and some reassurance!
So. After going through some photos of my best friend who passed away and me, I saw a comment from my dear friend's mom (she's basically an aunt to me) that said "perfect friendship." Queue emotional tidal wave of appreciation and love to my friend and her momma.
It got me thinking. About what? Glad you asked.
Death has a twisted way of adding to the pain of loss by ailing us with thoughts of guilt, regret, what ifs, and a sense that somehow we screwed up by not being or doing more. I've thought of many moments, conversations, unspoken words that make me ache with all the thoughts I've mentioned above.
Our friendship was not perfect in the sense that it was not without its struggles. While we didn't fight or backstab each other, we had our issues, tensions, and what we euphemistically called "discussions." Our affection, bond, and sisterly love transcended formality and normal convention, though and transcended any struggle we came across. And that, my friends, is what made my friendship with her perfect (in a deeper, more meaningful sense).
When she passed, I was pissed off. I still am, but the bubbling rage has subsided (for now). I was also livid and tormented by comments made by people who meant well but had a tendency to diminish our deep relationship into something so futile and meaningless. I won't go into detail, but when people don't have a comfort level in how to deal with grief, they can say some things that are well-intentioned but naive. Comments that made it sound like I was doing her a favour by being her friend. Or that it was lucky she didn't have "insert terminal illness here."
I've thought long and hard on these two sentiments and here's the thing: they're not ok because they diminish her immense impact on all our lives---her extreme importance in her relationships with each person grieving her loss. One death is not worse than the other, no matter the cause. The pain felt by those who are grieving cannot be measured by how long the deceased was suffering due to an illness, nor if the person was murdered, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, or another cause. The bottom line in this case is that her entire family, squad, loved ones, friends all lost her so suddenly that it knocked the breath out of us so that we lost some of our own lifeforce, too. A piece of us will always be missing now. It didn't matter how it happened, just that it did happen.
Picture a photograph of you with your best friend. Now picture that an invisible hand just picks up your friend and poof! She's gone. That dumbfoundedness that you feel? yeah. That's accurate. But I digress.
Onto the next point of the whole "favour" thing. Ready for a truthbomb? She saved my life so many times that I can't count. True friendship is a two-way street filled with give and take. We leaned on each other all the time. We had our tensions here and there, yes, but we respected each other enough to discuss things and do a little thing required in all effective relationships: communicate. Friendship is no favour: it's a gift that two people choose to honour and nurture together. She did me the favour, folks. She opened her (huge) heart to me and let me in. That is the ultimate gift and favour.
Ranting aside, despite how my thoughts may wander and start doubting if I was a good friend or not, if I could have been there more, etc., I am so bloody grateful for our friendship. Rather, our "sistership." We chose each other. I'll be forever grateful to God (or whatever power you believe in) for putting us on this planet together. I have incredible memories with her! I've met incredible people because of her! Her family inspires me to hold on to my own family and never let go because life is truly short. Cliche, yes, but there's truth to that one.
No matter why or how someone passes away, I hope that you feel able to embrace your pain, emotions, and get the support you deserve to deal with something so immense.
What's more, I hope you can step back and remember the good memories with that person. While it may seem counterintuitive, there's perfection in our flaws and our ability to deal with growing pains and joys in a friendship. There's perfection in a love that is so strong it made family out of strangers.
So, yes: our friendship is perfect because it's human, full of love, and will endure whatever time throws our way.
What relationships are perfectly imperfect in your lives? :)
Thursday, June 9, 2016
The "S" Word
holistically: emotional
Suicide is a scary subject, right? It's one of things that is so taboo in our society. There are misconceptions about suicide, too. For one, people seem to think that talking about it makes it more likely to happen for someone; as if by mentioning suicide to someone with suicidal thoughts, then you'll be encouraging them to do it. You'll plant a seed and help it grow resulting in an attempt to suicide.
That's not true. Period.
You see, people who have suicidal thoughts think of suicide as a giant, murderous elephant in the room. It's there, it wants to literally kill them, they don't feel comfortable talking about it, but they wish they could scream about it. Whenever I brought suicide up with clients, there was a palpable exhale of relief from them. By my naming their fear and bringing up the one thing that's on their mind but not on their tongue, the murderous elephant became Snuffleupagus: awkward and not sure why it exists, but at least he isn't trying to kill you at the moment.
I've been to two training sessions on how to recognize suicidal tendencies in others and how to help people in various circumstances. The second session was akin to Suicide First Aid. Before the training, I remember that I was terrified about talking to people about suicide, how the hell I would deal with it, and what would it feel like to have someone's greatest pain tossed into my hands. Once I learned what I could, and more importantly once I learned about who gets these kinds of thoughts, it became scary for a different reason.
It became scary because I almost got used to talking about it. There were so many people I came across in my work experience with suicidal thoughts. And, just as often as those who display "typical" risk factors, were those who seemed completely "normal."
Suicidal thoughts do not indicate a definite risk of suiciding.
SIDENOTE: it's considered more compassionate to say "suicide" instead of "commit suicide," as it's not a crime anymore. In addition, saying someone "committed" suicide places more stigma on the issue. There's enough stigma on it already.
A great example of how thoughts don't always equal action can be found in this awesome article, entitled What's the difference between suicidal thoughts and actions? One mom explains.
Which brings me to the next tidbit of this wordfest.
I have so much to be thankful for: life, an incredible husband, family, friends, a decent house, two little furbabies, financial support, and so many "things" (a lot of which I probably don't "need" but I digress). All of that makes what I'm about to share that much more painful and enraging (to me). I get the "s-word" thoughts, too. I had them when I was younger (in high school), and they've poked at me for years since. There are obvious triggers (loss being the biggest one), but sometimes it's simply part and parcel of my depression. Those are fun days: feeling sad and suicidal for "no reason" except that my brain is depressed.
I'm ok. Let's get that out of the way--just as the mom says in the article, I am ok. I'm telling you this because if there are any of you out there thinking/saying "OMG ME TOO!", I want to give you the chance to exhale some relief. Of course, let me scream from my side of the universe that if you EVER feel unsafe or in crisis, call a crisis line. Do it. In London, the Crisis Line is through CMHA 519-433-2023, located on 648 Huron St., London, ON (http://cmhamiddlesex.ca/crisis-services/). The Crisis Line also has a mobile outreach unit. And, there's always 911.
It sucks to be in crisis, but it also sucks to feel any of these feelings or think any of these thoughts. Journal, talk to someone, and dare I say it? Try counselling. I'm not saying to commit yourself to a life full of therapy if you don't want to, but consider talking to someone about these thoughts. Honestly, the biggest and most profound nugget that comes from counselling is validation. I've experienced it myself, and I've had the honour to provide it for others. It's so basic, but so incredibly profound: to feel like your feelings and thoughts are based in something real, that you're not a different species, and that you're human.
Again, if counselling isn't your jam right now, there are other phone lines (Distress Centre 519-667-6711, Good2Talk 1-866-925-5454 if you're in school, Kids Help Phone 1-800-668-6868). Or, there's paper, computers, and friends. It's scary, it's humbling, but the world needs you, so take a chance.
As for the training side of things, these are the rockstars who put on the two training sessions I did (SafeTALK and ASIST): The London Middlesex Suicide Prevention Council and LifeWorks. I would encourage anyone to take SafeTALK as it's accessible, a briefer length, and usable by everyone. ASIST is more geared towards helping professionals, is more intense, but would be amazing if everyone could do it :). Again, the ASIST training is truly more Suicide First Aid. Invaluable stuff. Both training programs help create a safer community. Who doesn't want that???
I am so thankful for the people in my life. They've been pillars, holding me up when I have felt like I was going to fall down or deserved to fall down. They relentlessly remind me that I do deserve to live and thrive, even when I wake up thinking the world would be better off if...And the experiences I've had: they've given me the resources to help myself and others.
I'm ok. If you're not, please talk to someone. Name that elephant, because you could turn it from a demonic, laser-eyed beast into Snuffleupagus. And who could be scared of Snuffleupagus????
(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/8/80/Snuffy31.jpg)
Suicide is a scary subject, right? It's one of things that is so taboo in our society. There are misconceptions about suicide, too. For one, people seem to think that talking about it makes it more likely to happen for someone; as if by mentioning suicide to someone with suicidal thoughts, then you'll be encouraging them to do it. You'll plant a seed and help it grow resulting in an attempt to suicide.
That's not true. Period.
You see, people who have suicidal thoughts think of suicide as a giant, murderous elephant in the room. It's there, it wants to literally kill them, they don't feel comfortable talking about it, but they wish they could scream about it. Whenever I brought suicide up with clients, there was a palpable exhale of relief from them. By my naming their fear and bringing up the one thing that's on their mind but not on their tongue, the murderous elephant became Snuffleupagus: awkward and not sure why it exists, but at least he isn't trying to kill you at the moment.
I've been to two training sessions on how to recognize suicidal tendencies in others and how to help people in various circumstances. The second session was akin to Suicide First Aid. Before the training, I remember that I was terrified about talking to people about suicide, how the hell I would deal with it, and what would it feel like to have someone's greatest pain tossed into my hands. Once I learned what I could, and more importantly once I learned about who gets these kinds of thoughts, it became scary for a different reason.
It became scary because I almost got used to talking about it. There were so many people I came across in my work experience with suicidal thoughts. And, just as often as those who display "typical" risk factors, were those who seemed completely "normal."
Suicidal thoughts do not indicate a definite risk of suiciding.
SIDENOTE: it's considered more compassionate to say "suicide" instead of "commit suicide," as it's not a crime anymore. In addition, saying someone "committed" suicide places more stigma on the issue. There's enough stigma on it already.
A great example of how thoughts don't always equal action can be found in this awesome article, entitled What's the difference between suicidal thoughts and actions? One mom explains.
Which brings me to the next tidbit of this wordfest.
I have so much to be thankful for: life, an incredible husband, family, friends, a decent house, two little furbabies, financial support, and so many "things" (a lot of which I probably don't "need" but I digress). All of that makes what I'm about to share that much more painful and enraging (to me). I get the "s-word" thoughts, too. I had them when I was younger (in high school), and they've poked at me for years since. There are obvious triggers (loss being the biggest one), but sometimes it's simply part and parcel of my depression. Those are fun days: feeling sad and suicidal for "no reason" except that my brain is depressed.
I'm ok. Let's get that out of the way--just as the mom says in the article, I am ok. I'm telling you this because if there are any of you out there thinking/saying "OMG ME TOO!", I want to give you the chance to exhale some relief. Of course, let me scream from my side of the universe that if you EVER feel unsafe or in crisis, call a crisis line. Do it. In London, the Crisis Line is through CMHA 519-433-2023, located on 648 Huron St., London, ON (http://cmhamiddlesex.ca/crisis-services/). The Crisis Line also has a mobile outreach unit. And, there's always 911.
It sucks to be in crisis, but it also sucks to feel any of these feelings or think any of these thoughts. Journal, talk to someone, and dare I say it? Try counselling. I'm not saying to commit yourself to a life full of therapy if you don't want to, but consider talking to someone about these thoughts. Honestly, the biggest and most profound nugget that comes from counselling is validation. I've experienced it myself, and I've had the honour to provide it for others. It's so basic, but so incredibly profound: to feel like your feelings and thoughts are based in something real, that you're not a different species, and that you're human.
Again, if counselling isn't your jam right now, there are other phone lines (Distress Centre 519-667-6711, Good2Talk 1-866-925-5454 if you're in school, Kids Help Phone 1-800-668-6868). Or, there's paper, computers, and friends. It's scary, it's humbling, but the world needs you, so take a chance.
As for the training side of things, these are the rockstars who put on the two training sessions I did (SafeTALK and ASIST): The London Middlesex Suicide Prevention Council and LifeWorks. I would encourage anyone to take SafeTALK as it's accessible, a briefer length, and usable by everyone. ASIST is more geared towards helping professionals, is more intense, but would be amazing if everyone could do it :). Again, the ASIST training is truly more Suicide First Aid. Invaluable stuff. Both training programs help create a safer community. Who doesn't want that???
I am so thankful for the people in my life. They've been pillars, holding me up when I have felt like I was going to fall down or deserved to fall down. They relentlessly remind me that I do deserve to live and thrive, even when I wake up thinking the world would be better off if...And the experiences I've had: they've given me the resources to help myself and others.
I'm ok. If you're not, please talk to someone. Name that elephant, because you could turn it from a demonic, laser-eyed beast into Snuffleupagus. And who could be scared of Snuffleupagus????
(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/8/80/Snuffy31.jpg)
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Physician: heal thyself
holistically: holistic :)
I'm sure you've heard the saying in the title before. What do physicians do? Heal others. What do they need to do before they heal others? Heal themselves.
The same goes for any helping professionals. Doctors, social workers (ahem!), counsellors, front-line workers, help desk employees, customer service, etc. etc. etc.: you're all in need of helping yourself first. There's another saying I'd like to throw into the mix: "an empty cup cannot fill another." It certainly goes along the same vein in that you cannot help other before you have helped yourself. If you are exhausted, drained, feeling like absolute crap, you may not be able to help someone who's rowing in the same boat.
Here's the thing: I'm exhausted. In regard to writing, I'm facing this paradox of having tonnes of content in my head but not wanting to write a word. I'd be a hypocrite if I forced myself to write when I'm really not feeling like it. After much thought, the desire built up to put words to.. screen.
I know some incredible people in my life, and they inspired me to write this. I'm no expert, but I want to lend some support and advice to those who are open to it. I know what it feels like to be on empty yet to feel pressure to perform and help others because it's "what you do." It's a nasty cycle to be in, and if you find yourself in that cycle, I hope this helps.
You may find yourself able to relate to the following situations. So, for any of you reading this, whether you're in one of the situations or not, CUT YOURSELF SOME SLACK. Take a break. You may not have time to take a full-on vacation or something, but take a small mental break, and take it as often as you can. Life won't stop for you but you can stop the spiraling downward motion of hamster-wheeling it without taking any time/space for yourself.
So here's to:
-Parents: of children and/or expecting children
-People unhappy in their jobs
-People stressed out about their jobs (whether they like the jobs or not)
-People unsure of their life purpose/path
-People who are grieving
-People who have given up something huge or made a big change
-People living life (i.e. life is simply stressful sometimes)
Most of us do care for others, whether or not in a professional capacity. No matter how you care for others, you do need to take care of yourself. There's no weakness in that nor is it selfish. If you burn yourself out, you will be unable to do a damn thing for yourself, let alone for others in your life.
What kinds of mental breaks can you take?
1) A short walk -- nature helps calm everything down... unless it's hailing or tornado-ing... stay inside in those cases
2) A few belly breaths
3) A quick meditation (guided or not), through apps like Headspace or Calm -- these are available on Android devices and Apple, I believe
4) Talk to a friend or family member (most of us are lucky to have someone we can tell anything to--if you don't, consider talking to a counsellor....it's not scary, I promise...even if you're a counsellor yourself :))
5) Play a video game
6) Play a mental health game masked as a regular video game called Superbetter
7) Make some tea, have some coconut water, make some hot chocolate, or eat something delicious (Nutellaaaaaaaaaa)
8) Do a body scan (start with sitting comfortably, and bring awareness to each part of your body...you may feel silly at first but this is a deceptively effective technique to help you relax)
9) SAY NO: I have trouble with this one, but you're going to disappoint people in your life, so get used to it. Say no to things you don't want to do. Most of the time, you'll feel better. I promise.
10) Hug a furbaby. Or a stuffed animal. or a tree, or a reptile if you prefer reptiles.
HUGS EVERYONE.
Here's the thing: I'm exhausted. In regard to writing, I'm facing this paradox of having tonnes of content in my head but not wanting to write a word. I'd be a hypocrite if I forced myself to write when I'm really not feeling like it. After much thought, the desire built up to put words to.. screen.
I know some incredible people in my life, and they inspired me to write this. I'm no expert, but I want to lend some support and advice to those who are open to it. I know what it feels like to be on empty yet to feel pressure to perform and help others because it's "what you do." It's a nasty cycle to be in, and if you find yourself in that cycle, I hope this helps.
You may find yourself able to relate to the following situations. So, for any of you reading this, whether you're in one of the situations or not, CUT YOURSELF SOME SLACK. Take a break. You may not have time to take a full-on vacation or something, but take a small mental break, and take it as often as you can. Life won't stop for you but you can stop the spiraling downward motion of hamster-wheeling it without taking any time/space for yourself.
So here's to:
-Parents: of children and/or expecting children
-People unhappy in their jobs
-People stressed out about their jobs (whether they like the jobs or not)
-People unsure of their life purpose/path
-People who are grieving
-People who have given up something huge or made a big change
-People living life (i.e. life is simply stressful sometimes)
Most of us do care for others, whether or not in a professional capacity. No matter how you care for others, you do need to take care of yourself. There's no weakness in that nor is it selfish. If you burn yourself out, you will be unable to do a damn thing for yourself, let alone for others in your life.
What kinds of mental breaks can you take?
1) A short walk -- nature helps calm everything down... unless it's hailing or tornado-ing... stay inside in those cases
2) A few belly breaths
3) A quick meditation (guided or not), through apps like Headspace or Calm -- these are available on Android devices and Apple, I believe
4) Talk to a friend or family member (most of us are lucky to have someone we can tell anything to--if you don't, consider talking to a counsellor....it's not scary, I promise...even if you're a counsellor yourself :))
5) Play a video game
6) Play a mental health game masked as a regular video game called Superbetter
7) Make some tea, have some coconut water, make some hot chocolate, or eat something delicious (Nutellaaaaaaaaaa)
8) Do a body scan (start with sitting comfortably, and bring awareness to each part of your body...you may feel silly at first but this is a deceptively effective technique to help you relax)
9) SAY NO: I have trouble with this one, but you're going to disappoint people in your life, so get used to it. Say no to things you don't want to do. Most of the time, you'll feel better. I promise.
10) Hug a furbaby. Or a stuffed animal. or a tree, or a reptile if you prefer reptiles.
HUGS EVERYONE.
Friday, March 25, 2016
Grief
holistically: emotional
and everything else
Have you seen the movie Homeward Bound? If you have, good on you. If you haven't, then I suggest you either watch it or continue under the warning that there are some spoilers. You were warned.
You were.
Remember the scene where Shadow gets stuck in that awful mud hole? He whimpers and paws frantically to get out of it while his companions try to help him, but he falls clumsily back into the mire for what seems like forever?
That's grief.
You paw and claw out of the muck and mire but you slide back down and fall on your ass. Yup. It's messy, unpredictable, but you know it's a tough mothertrucker to get out of. There is no formula, rhyme or reason.Your friends and family worry about you getting out and try wonderful and sometimes silly things to help you out. Or they're in there with you, fighting the (not so) good fight. If they're on the outside, they'll shout suggestions, commands, encouragements, declarations of love, concern, sometimes even anger... "GET OUT!" "YOU CAN DO IT!" "KEEP TRYING!"
In case you hadn't guessed or don't know me, I'm currently grieving. I've been through this before, as many of you have, but I'm an adult this time around. The difference between then and now? Swearwords and alcohol are available (allowed).
My first dance with grief started when I was 7 years old. I've grown older since then and hopefully somewhat wiser. However, grief doesn't give a shit. It throws you into a pit and makes you feel like that scared, helpless 7 year old (except with a bottle of tequila in your grasp). The mud starts to dry up with each happy moment or memory, and you think you have enough traction to climb out. Sadness creeps in and starts to make it rain. Bye bye traction. Or maybe anger sweeps in, makes it pour, makes it rain ice pellets that you can't escape from. All you can do is sit or stand there and scream. You're not getting out today.
Then the happy memories come back... the hope. Whether or not the sun comes out, it has at least stopped raining long enough to catch your breath. You don't quite feel like "you" yet, but you don't feel like a worthless piece of shit, either.
I don't know if you remember in the movie, but Shadow makes it out. How? No idea. Some may say it got dry enough for him to climb, others may say a stick or board was there that helped him, still others may say "dog magic" or "who cares?!". The point is, he made it out (much to his family's joyous relief). Shadow survived.
Ironic name, really: Shadow. Grief does stick with you once you're out of the pit like a shadow. But I digress.
Shadow climbed out of the pit. You can climb out of grief.
Unfortunately, as this isn't the world of voice-over animals who survive amazing (impossible?) odds, there won't be a music cue or time limit on a film reel to tell you when you'll get out of the pit. The "when" isn't the point, actually. "If" is the point.
Will you make it out?
For those of you who've been through loss and grief, you clearly made it out. Even if you're still muddy years after, you made it out. So did I. Let's not analyze our performance too much, ok? Let's just give this a pass/fail. We're alive. That's a pass!
I'll climb out of this one. One day [insert emo face here]
In case you hadn't noticed, I also use humour as a coping mechanism.
Carrying on: being an adult is simultaneously helpful and maddening for dealing with grief. It's helpful in the ways I've already mentioned (larger vocabulary and access to sweet sweet scotch), but maddening in that your logic can name all the feelings you're going through and the stages of grief, but it matters ZERO PERCENT. Your feelings certainly don't give a shit. They hit, smack, kick, tickle, slap, punch, and stab you whenever they want, however they want, and for however long they want. You can name them all you want: it won't matter. They're still comin'.
This is normal. Remember that.
So what do you do to avoid grief? You don't. Sorry.
But you can do something radical once you're in the pit. Be kind to yourself. Feel the feelings. Take it hour by hour or minute by minute if you have to. Yes, the pain can be strong enough to make you want to do horrible things or numb up and waste away. Like phobias, the best way to deal with grief is to feel it and face it. It sucks. I'm not going to sugarcoat that. As for your onlookers, cheering squad, mockers, whoever: pay attention to the ones who love you and who you love. These are the ones who "get it." They likely have been through grief before, too. They don't make your pain about them or your grieving process about them. It's your ass in the pit: not theirs.
There will be those people who give you hope through it all, which will feel impossible until you feel them near. I hope you experience this if you have to go through this at all. They're earth angels. They'll be there for you no matter how messy you get. Chances are, they've been where you are. They'll let you be who you are, feel what you feel, and only interfere when you start digging yourself into a dangerous place from which you may not return.
Listen to those people.
There will be people who mean well but who don't know how to deal with other people in pain. That's their cross to bear: not yours. This doesn't make them bad or wrong; it simply means that you don't need to expend what little energy you'll have on them. That's ok.
You'll make it out. Keep going. Climb. Or just sit and bark a lot until you get bored, the music in your head swells like the ending of a movie, and you magic your way to higher ground. I won't judge. My cats are sometimes my greatest therapists, so really. I can't judge.
Good luck to you. I'm done pawing at the muddy walls for the day. Time for a break before I go at 'er again tomorrow.
and everything else
Have you seen the movie Homeward Bound? If you have, good on you. If you haven't, then I suggest you either watch it or continue under the warning that there are some spoilers. You were warned.
You were.
Remember the scene where Shadow gets stuck in that awful mud hole? He whimpers and paws frantically to get out of it while his companions try to help him, but he falls clumsily back into the mire for what seems like forever?
That's grief.
You paw and claw out of the muck and mire but you slide back down and fall on your ass. Yup. It's messy, unpredictable, but you know it's a tough mothertrucker to get out of. There is no formula, rhyme or reason.Your friends and family worry about you getting out and try wonderful and sometimes silly things to help you out. Or they're in there with you, fighting the (not so) good fight. If they're on the outside, they'll shout suggestions, commands, encouragements, declarations of love, concern, sometimes even anger... "GET OUT!" "YOU CAN DO IT!" "KEEP TRYING!"
In case you hadn't guessed or don't know me, I'm currently grieving. I've been through this before, as many of you have, but I'm an adult this time around. The difference between then and now? Swearwords and alcohol are available (allowed).
My first dance with grief started when I was 7 years old. I've grown older since then and hopefully somewhat wiser. However, grief doesn't give a shit. It throws you into a pit and makes you feel like that scared, helpless 7 year old (except with a bottle of tequila in your grasp). The mud starts to dry up with each happy moment or memory, and you think you have enough traction to climb out. Sadness creeps in and starts to make it rain. Bye bye traction. Or maybe anger sweeps in, makes it pour, makes it rain ice pellets that you can't escape from. All you can do is sit or stand there and scream. You're not getting out today.
Then the happy memories come back... the hope. Whether or not the sun comes out, it has at least stopped raining long enough to catch your breath. You don't quite feel like "you" yet, but you don't feel like a worthless piece of shit, either.
I don't know if you remember in the movie, but Shadow makes it out. How? No idea. Some may say it got dry enough for him to climb, others may say a stick or board was there that helped him, still others may say "dog magic" or "who cares?!". The point is, he made it out (much to his family's joyous relief). Shadow survived.
Ironic name, really: Shadow. Grief does stick with you once you're out of the pit like a shadow. But I digress.
Shadow climbed out of the pit. You can climb out of grief.
Unfortunately, as this isn't the world of voice-over animals who survive amazing (impossible?) odds, there won't be a music cue or time limit on a film reel to tell you when you'll get out of the pit. The "when" isn't the point, actually. "If" is the point.
Will you make it out?
For those of you who've been through loss and grief, you clearly made it out. Even if you're still muddy years after, you made it out. So did I. Let's not analyze our performance too much, ok? Let's just give this a pass/fail. We're alive. That's a pass!
I'll climb out of this one. One day [insert emo face here]
In case you hadn't noticed, I also use humour as a coping mechanism.
Carrying on: being an adult is simultaneously helpful and maddening for dealing with grief. It's helpful in the ways I've already mentioned (larger vocabulary and access to sweet sweet scotch), but maddening in that your logic can name all the feelings you're going through and the stages of grief, but it matters ZERO PERCENT. Your feelings certainly don't give a shit. They hit, smack, kick, tickle, slap, punch, and stab you whenever they want, however they want, and for however long they want. You can name them all you want: it won't matter. They're still comin'.
This is normal. Remember that.
So what do you do to avoid grief? You don't. Sorry.
But you can do something radical once you're in the pit. Be kind to yourself. Feel the feelings. Take it hour by hour or minute by minute if you have to. Yes, the pain can be strong enough to make you want to do horrible things or numb up and waste away. Like phobias, the best way to deal with grief is to feel it and face it. It sucks. I'm not going to sugarcoat that. As for your onlookers, cheering squad, mockers, whoever: pay attention to the ones who love you and who you love. These are the ones who "get it." They likely have been through grief before, too. They don't make your pain about them or your grieving process about them. It's your ass in the pit: not theirs.
There will be those people who give you hope through it all, which will feel impossible until you feel them near. I hope you experience this if you have to go through this at all. They're earth angels. They'll be there for you no matter how messy you get. Chances are, they've been where you are. They'll let you be who you are, feel what you feel, and only interfere when you start digging yourself into a dangerous place from which you may not return.
Listen to those people.
There will be people who mean well but who don't know how to deal with other people in pain. That's their cross to bear: not yours. This doesn't make them bad or wrong; it simply means that you don't need to expend what little energy you'll have on them. That's ok.
You'll make it out. Keep going. Climb. Or just sit and bark a lot until you get bored, the music in your head swells like the ending of a movie, and you magic your way to higher ground. I won't judge. My cats are sometimes my greatest therapists, so really. I can't judge.
Good luck to you. I'm done pawing at the muddy walls for the day. Time for a break before I go at 'er again tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Let's be REBELS
holistically: mindful
Because I feel mental these days. And I'm fine with that.
Life has a funny way of twisting and warping your sense of time. Back in the Fall of 2015, it felt like time was trudging by, then sped up exponentially as my wedding drew nearer. Here we are. It's March, 2016: the birth month of my sister and my mother-in-law (two very special women). March also marks the anniversary of my grandmother's death (another very special woman). In between it all, St. Patty's Day shall adorn our lives with merriment and shenanigans. Quite the month.
I began typing this with a war wound from cooking: I sliced the padding of my ring finger with a potato peeler while prepping potatoes for both a tomato soup and a coconut curry. I don't recommend it (the slicing of the finger; not the dishes...they're delicious). i'm compelled to be here, though: I'm here to step up the game with writing these posts. I've missed my e-verse. I've missed exploring familiar topics and contemplating other topics that seem fresh and alluring. This is a new year and there are new shenanigans to explore!
Why the title? It's not simply clickbait: I swear.
I want to be a rebel, and I encourage you, my friends--my e-verse--to do the same. Against what shall we rebel? I dare us to rebel against societal norms and pressure to accept mediocrity in ourselves and in love.
I have been married 5 months. That's a drop in the bucket compared to other couples. Fully understand that, and I realize that we have a long road ahead of us filled with sunshine and storms. And those days where it's rainy and cool and makes you feel like your bones are shivering. But mostly sunny days where there's a breeze and you could frolic all day long.
I digress.
What societal norms was I referring to before? In regard to pressures while in love...I have been teased by longer-married couples (in good humour, I reckon) about my husband and I being a "ball-and-chain" to each other. More often than not, we've heard many quips about how everything goes downhill after the wedding day. Yes, a few important things in my life did plunge into chaos after my wedding (and honeymoon), but it wasn't my marriage.
If anything, my marriage has been getting better--or at least stronger. Hence why we got married. I did not get married just because it was the right thing to do at the time. My husband and I check in with each other all the time about life and how we're doing--we communicate with each other (shocking, I know... at least to the camps of people who believe marriage equals tolerating each other and having kids). We revel in each other's company, which has been very needed (let me tell you). We've done our best to honour when we need alone time, time with friends, time with family, and time "just us."
I admire and am humbled by my husband. Throughout some struggles that have bled into this year from 2015, he has encouraged me to radically take care of myself. This is not something I'm used to. I'm accustomed to a cortisol-fuelled, hamster-wheel lifestyle. He wants me to thrive and be happy and has done everything in his power to make it happen.
Amidst the kindness from my husband and my mission to regain my Ash-ness (and de-hamster), I'm reminded of some pesky societal pressures... I'm at that age now (i.e. any age post 25-years-old) where kids become a question, vocation is wagging its finger at me saying "make up your mind, stupid!", and I start to wonder if living in an apartment is still acceptable by society...at this age. I'm guilty of letting these intruders in sometimes. All they're good for is pressure and stress.
Here's the part where we rebel, folks. Screw the pressure. Screw the ticking biological timebomb bullshit. Screw the notion that marriage and/or life slopes downwards after "that age" or after the most expensive (and hopefully happiest?!) day in your life.
No. I do not accept you.
Life isn't meant to be perfect, but it doesn't have to suck or be mediocre (at best). There will be shitty days and shitty periods in your life: whether you're married or not. What you hold onto and put your love and energy into during those shitty times and good times is what will thrive. If things get hard during our marriage, we haven't said "oh... this is life's expiration starting to take place. Cool."
Instead, we've rebelled and said "hey you: we've got a good thing here and we're going to stick together." When life gets hard, we become shit-surfers, or at least help the other person onto the surfboard to ride it out together. (That whole communication thing helps a whole lot!)
If life gives you too much to be able to or want to help yourself or your spouse, then something needs to change. That's when the bullshit all piles up and the acceptance or compliance to the storm takes over. As in: "ok... this is how it's meant to be, I guess." *insert passive shrug here*
Sometimes, we need to pause in that passivity in order catch our breath and find inspiration to move forward. OF COURSE: in this passive time, be kind to your fine self and cope with what you can, when and how you can. I am a strong believer in asking for help if needed, too.
THEN!
The magic happens when you're ready to move
ready to face change
ready to be a REBEL.
Movement and "change" do not have to mean making things instantly sunny and happy. In fact, it practically never does. There is almost always discomfort with change, even when it leads to something beautiful. The point is to be rebellious against the status quo of whatever bullshit weight bears down on your shoulders. I dare you to not accept it just because everyone else is, or because it's common to do so for yourself or others. I dare you to be a rebel for yourself--for your heart and soul--and for your loved one(s).
It hasn't been easy rebelling against the notion that I'm becoming a boring, old, lazy, weakling due to recent life changes and decisions. I'm not ok with that and it hurts to feel like I'm becoming less of a person because of some of what's happened to me and choices I have made as I get older.
Inspired by the love in my life (from my husband, family, friends, colleagues), I dared to move and rebel against the dangers of getting older than 25. I'm sure some of the pressure and judgment I've felt has been self-imposed. That said, upon further exploration and discussion with friends and family, I've realized that an uncomfortable amount of pressure extends from long-standing societal expectations to be all wonderful things (including semi-happily married) by 25 or run the risk of being nothing at all.
Rebel.
Dare to balance compassion for yourself with forward momentum to evolve. I do not accept that life has to suck once I've passed 25 AND entered the institution of marriage.** I may not be WonderWoman at age 28, but my choices and circumstances have blessed me with an incredible circle of support, a mind that is mental but inspired, and a heart that is just as ok with taking care of itself as it is discovering the next mission on which it wants to embark.
Check your own pressures at the door and any pressures that may extend from the big bad world of "what everyone else is doing and saying." Dare to be you at any age, satisfy your heart at any age, and dare to be happy....... at ANY AGE, in ANY state of relationship including marriage. Life gets hard at times: it doesn't have to stay that way just because you got older and got married...or didn't. (Because being a single person past 25 is a whole other bag of.... sticks. This merits its own post some day.)
Just remember:
Rebel.
**Please see my previous post on how I cherish marriage, if you're unsure of my feelings on the subject. :)
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