Life Lessons From Depression, With Love

When I suffered PTSD, it took willpower to smile, if you can believe that. I should have known something was wrong when my smile became quirky & crooked. Eventually, my smile became unquirked, and my PTSD worked itself out. I know that it's possible to get over this without meds, but seeing a professional to talk things out will lead to a proper discussion, proper diagnosis, and more options in treatment. Some people don't want to see anyone about their symptoms, which is why I'm sharing my life lessons right here on this website. A few things that I'm able to share are a few things I probably knew already, but forgot. Some of them are listed below:

· Get into believing that you are an essential part of the universe.
· Get into believing the universe is in order & you can be, too.
· Get into the thrill of being in your skin.
· Get into the joy of being your own best friend
· Get into the routine of respecting yourself.
· Get into appreciating the little things.
· Get into celebrating your assets, no matter how small.
· Get into accepting the things you cannot change.
· Get into the joy of living one day at a time, even if you planned 2 months ahead.
· Get into the practice of forgiving yourself and others.
· Get into protecting your natural environment--it's where you live.
· Get into self-respecting and appreciating who you are.
· Get into accepting you cannot be all things to all people.
· Get into being true to yourself because you are perfect just as you are.
· Get into a balanced lifestyle which consists of bitter & sweet experiences.
· Get into believing you can change past behaviors and become a better person.
· Get into being your personal best one day at a time.

(c) 2012

Mindfulness helps with the OMG! factor.

When faced with drudgery or things we otherwise hate, there is the OMG! factor which includes a bit of distaste & a bit of resistance. If we could only find something to appreciate during such drudgery. The name for recognizing and appreciating the tiniest things is called "mindfulness." I'm writing today because I caught myself being mindful and wanted to share how it was done.

Like anyone else, there are things I really hate to do. This kind of drudgery brings out my basic sense of impatience and dread. Guess what it is. Can't? Okay, it's making the bed, crawling across the bed to tuck in the sheets, bumping my head against the wall, fluffing the pillows, making sure the edges of the sheet are aligned with the edges of the blanket and bedspread--OMG!

So today, I stopped myself from thinking about how annoying this project can be and switched my thoughts to more pleasant activities, like taking my morning walk, or entertaining fantasies like, what if I had a dog or what will I make for breakfast, maybe yogurt with cereal--no, too many carbs, or maybe a hot dog, but I'm out of bread. My thoughts were taking me away from what I was doing, but I still felt the drudgery.

Then I stopped myself from thinking, forced myself to focus on the act of making a pretty bed, starting with observing the floral pattern on my pastel blue sheets. I got into the "flow" or "zen" of it. Then I asked myself: What if everything had a life of its own, both animate and inanimate objects? What if they all needed attention but just weren't able to ask?

That's when I focused my attention on all five senses and listened to the way the sheets sounded, felt the softness of the bedding, and admired the rich brown color and subtle curve of the sleigh bed. This time, I didn't allow my mind to drift elsewhere or to make judgments. I didn't compare my 200 count sheets to my 300 count sheets. Instead, I appreciated the sheets and pillows on their own terms. In the other words, I gave them attention and also, I gave them love.

Being mindful changed making the bed into a painless affair. I even enjoyed making the bed. Mindfulness is something I will use more often. They say it's one of the keys to happiness.

Writing is still therapeutic.

Writing is still Therapeutic.

Negative thinking comes naturally, but incessant negative thinking is a sign of depression. Sometimes, I take a moment to reflect on my thoughts, goals, and emotional state, just to make sure I’m not entertaining negative thoughts more than necessary. I’m a strong believer in expressing negative emotions, not hiding them, but there’s a time and place for everything, and a good place to express emotions before sharing them is on the blank page—a white paper of sorts. I love to write, so this comes easily, but it’s been said and I agree, writing is therapeutic. Not only that, it’s something we all can do. When you write in a journal or loose-leaf binder, you express yourself, and if you so decide you can keep these expressions forever. You can even collect your thoughts for writing a memoir later in life when you get much older, or you can also dump it all in the trash.

By now you know, I’m a survivor of PTSD. I think I first suffered PTSD after a traumatic event involving my father and his ex-wife when I was 17 (my hands shook for a year) but events of 911 led me to seek help for stress and PTSD. As is customary, I was prescribed meds, which I took but didn’t continue because I thought the meds would be addictive. I was incorrect. Not all meds prescribed for PTSD and depression are addictive. Still, I think writing has been one of my best strategies for overcoming PTSD without professional help. Not all people who suffer PTSD develop depression, but for 40% of the population, it happens. I think it happened to me.

I think my PTSD led to mild depression, which is invisible. When something is invisible, it’s hard to pinpoint, treat and overcome. Incessant negative thoughts are the consistent symptom of depression, but my negative thoughts had been with me for most of my life in one form or another. Despite the efforts of my beautiful mother who single-parented ten children, negative events were a daily regimen in my life, and there was no safe place to hide and nothing to express at the time. It was simply a part of life.

Now, I’m glad I suffered and overcame PTSD. It caused me to discover who I really am, not who I seem to be or who I am expected to be. I learned to stop working so hard for the sake of job, family, or significant others and take notice of myself, stand up for myself, and learn to be my own best friend. I needed to know how to respond to negative assaults from toxic people in my life. I needed to learn how to face, confront and overcome workplace harassment. Because I can write, like we all can, I was able to uncover my emotions and rebuild emotional strength I had since childhood, but just forgot about. I was there walking shoulder to shoulder with my mother, helping her maintain a household, and this required emotional strength. Somewhere along the way I forgot about this.

Today is a time for self-expression and you are invited to write with me. Writing allows me to take a look at my accomplishments, my present challenges and be appreciative of the little things in life. Through writing, I am able to understand and like the person I was, the person I am, and the person I want to be.

· I start with a topic and see where it goes.
· I time myself so I don’t get burnt out—3 to 5 minutes.
· No matter how much I’m loving it, I stop writing after 3 or 5 minutes. If I want to resume the writing in my spare time, I do it, but when I’m expressing my emotions, I keep it short and sweet, 3 to 5 minutes at a time, max. I don’t want to bore myself to death.
· I do NOT erase, scratch-out, or make corrections. I’m not concerned about grammar, punctuation, political correctness, or anything that causes me to think too hard. I just write. I call this “free-writing” or “timed writing.”
· Please join me, or if you wish, free-write later. I like writing or reflecting at the end of my day, but you might prefer to write at lunch-time or after dinner.

3 minute free-writing: my thoughts for today--

I watched JayZ on Oprah’s show tonight, don’t remember, oh, yes, it’s called, “Master Class.” I didn’t know he was such a genuine person, at least he seems to be. I thought he was arrogant, even though I like a lot of his stuff. He was gracious, almost as if he was trying to appease his audience. Nobody can be that nice, and my assumption is that he wasn’t nice. But I think Beyonce’ has influenced him in a positive way. What if we all had someone who influenced us in a positive way? My influence was my dad. He took care of me, especially when I was sad. I remember crying one afternoon when I was three. My mom wanted to put me in a dress, but I wanted to wear a red jacket with matching red jeans. I sat on the floor and cried until my father got home. He picked me up, dressed me the way I wanted and carried me outdoors. I think my mother resented me from that day forward. She loved me, took care of me after they divorced when I was 10, and taught me everything I know about taking care of a household and family. But she looked at me like I was more my father’s child than hers….end of 3 minutes.

Acceptance works as well as forgiveness.

Throughout my childhood, I had learned to hide my emotions because there was really no one who had time to listen, and I was too busy taking care of household duties and younger siblings to ruminate on problems or negative events in my life, but while researching ways to express emotions, I learned that emotions are so important that they must be expressed. When I was younger, that was all well and good, something I understood, but I didn't really "get it" until much later.

I was starting to write a book which I'm now in the process of editing. Back when I was trying out exercises and considering whether I wanted to include them in the book, I was reading John Bradshaw’s book, Homecoming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child (1990). While completing an exercise and addressing what John Bradshaw and others refer to as my “inner child,” I had a flashback:

One early morning long ago, my brother in the military had called, and I had answered the telephone. He had asked for our mother, but when I looked into her bedroom, she was fast asleep. It was well past midnight, and he only wanted to chat; it was not an emergency (or so I thought). I explained how tired our mother had seemed and asked my brother whether he could call back the next day because she had just fallen asleep. He said that he could, so we talked for a moment and then said good-bye. He never called back and never got another chance to hear his mother’s voice. My voice was the last he ever heard because two days later, we were visited by an officer from the United States Army who said my brother had been killed. I don’t even think I cried at the funeral, don’t think I ever did. But it wasn’t that I didn’t love him. It was that I wasn't accustomed to expressing emotions, and didn't know how to tell my mother that she had missed my brother's call.

Before completing the exercises on the “inner child” according to John Bradshaw’s book, I had never acknowledged the extreme sense of guilt and sadness I suffered because of my misguided vigilance over my mother. I had protected her since childhood because she had been ill or was preoccupied with a newborn, but this one time, I had been overly protective, and I felt this was the worst mistake I had ever made. To this day, I have shared this with one best friend--and you.

Reading Bradshaw’s book, I uncovered an unexpressed emotion which had followed me since very early adulthood. After this was acknowledged, finally, I was able to mourn the loss of my brother without the accompanying guilt. I cried about the incident as though it happened yesterday. Although I never shared the telephone conversation with my mother, Ms. Essie, who passed away in 2009, never expressed my remorse, and could never ask my brother to forgive me, I assumed they both would understand. Still, I couldn't forget.

But beating negative thoughts takes practice, persistence, and moving past negative emotions once they've been expressed. As for me, after a brief period of mourning, the usual negative thinking returned, and I accepted them like they were a familiar adversary. I still didn't think I deserved to be happy, still didn't forgive myself. It took months before finally, I "got it."

We might not be able to forgive and we might not forget, but these are only words. In fact, I must admit, I don't really understand these two words. What do they really mean? What I really understand is the word, acceptance. Happiness requires acceptance of what we cannot change. My mother, Ms. Essie like to recite,"The Serenity Prayer" :

"...Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

This is what I understood. Once I realized I couldn't change what happened, I was also able to accept that I didn't do anything wrong. Wanting to protect someone isn't wrong. Also, there were options. My brother could have insisted or might have said it was urgent, and I would have awakened our mother. Once I challenged my negative thoughts, negated their validity, I was able to move past the pain. Like it or not, there was nothing I could ever change. Acceptance works as well as forgiveness.

"Beasts of the Southern Wild"

Sometimes, inspiration comes in small packages and in small doses. The trick is in being able to recognize and accept the gifts we get from someone else, day to day.  I was told nothing about this film, except that it was awesome!!! I trusted the source and appreciated the gesture. Then I drove an hour to the nearest theater where it was being shown. I couldn't believe this film. When I left the movie theater, I felt inspired. When I got home, I looked it up on the internet: Beasts of the Southern Wild. It was an award winner at two film festivals. I found this movie trailer which I wish to share with you.
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AGREE or DISAGREE: SUICIDE PREVENTION IS EVERYONE'S BUSINESS

Overall, suicide is the seventh leading cause of death for males and the sixteenth leading cause of death for females. Suicide is the eleventh leading cause of death for all ages, with more than 36,000 deaths occurring in the U.S. alone.

Summertime and the living is easy, but sometimes the living is not easy. As we learned with recent deadly events in our country, “all that glitters is not gold.” Sometimes, when it comes to our emotional well-being or the well-being of people we may know, appearance is not reality. So the more we pay attention, the more we are able to help. How we approach someone might mean the difference between whether we helped someone through this life or whether we hindered someone. The key to helping others is listening and empathizing. Invisible illnesses like depression can happen to all of us at anytime, but knowing the symptoms is becoming our social responsibility.

According to statistics, women attempt suicide three to four more often than men, but men are four times more successful at completing a suicide because once the decision is made, men tend to use more lethal weapons, namely a firearm. Among men, the non-ethnic elderly have the highest rate of suicide. Also, first responders, military and emergency personnel, police officers, and sufferers of past or present abuse face higher risks of suicide. Invisible illnesses like depression or PTSD often lead to hopelessness, which can greatly increase the risk of suicide.

Women attempt suicide more often, but why is it, women are more inclined to try and take their lives? There are too many factors to know for sure. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, women face many different challenges more often than men—single-parenting, multi-tasking, physical, emotional or sexual abuse--but no single event causes anyone to take their own lives.

Suicide has been called a final act of aggression against oneself. Women are known caregivers, and often that is their primary purpose in life. When children grow up and move away, adjustments must be made, whether married or single. At some point in life, a woman can feel isolated and lose contact with girlfriends or family members who used to care. Emotional stress might stem from marital problems that surfaced when the kids moved away. Especially for non-ethnic women, the highest suicide rate occurs among women between the ages of 45-54. Taking a closer look at these demographics, the high rate of suicide in this age group only makes sense.

When a woman is between the ages of 45 and 54, her entire world starts to change.  The marriage is changed because parents become empty-nesters, but they may not have grand children just yet. Their physical condition and appearance begin to change, and a woman might not feel as attractive. Also, a woman might feel she has fewer options when it comes to making adjustments. Whereas society accepts an older man being attracted to younger women, a woman does not have the same level of approval when she is attracted to a younger man.

When a man is 65 or even 70, he is still considered a good “catch,” despite his physical appearance. Most of the attention is focused on his circumstances and bank account. A man is rarely too old to be considered attractive to members of the opposite sex, and when he does become "old", he might lose his enthusiasm for life, which might explain why elderly white males have the greatest rate of suicide. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, in the general population, for every 25 attempts, a suicide happens. But among adults ages 65 and older, that number increases to approximately four suicide attempts for every completed suicide.

If we take a closer look at the research, some persons of a certain age group might be more susceptible to suicide due to changing conditions in their lives. Our global society demands all of our attention and most of our waking time, but it only takes one day to save or lose a life. Sometimes, the willpower to survive for another 24 hours can be inspired by a smile, a friendly hello, or opening someone’s door. Surviving happens one day at a time.

Suicide is becoming an epidemic, and it’s up to each of us to become aware of challenges faced by people we may or may not know. A simple smile, a genuine hello, or a telephone call to a relative or friend just might mean the difference between life and death.

Are you doing anything to help someone along the way? What do you say?