Whoa! I have had one hectic week! Most of it has been work-related, so I’m not complaining (when one is a freelance writer and editor, one doesn’t complain when work gets hectic), but I’ve barely been able to leave my desk long enough to take Chopper outside.

Next week is going to be just as hectic, but that’s mostly because of all the big plans I have for Mental Health Notes, as well as something special all of us in the b5media Health & Wellness Channel are cooking up.

Oooh, I bet you’re curious now.

Have patience and, in the meantime, enjoy this week’s Saturday Sanity!

This week at Mental Health Notes, Aside from telling you about brain foods for vegetarians and the history of the emoticon, as well as making a few announcements (see below), I didn’t do a whole lot of writing (I told you – it was a hectic week!). Fortunately, Airdrie Miller (remember her?) wrote a very special four-part guest series for Mental Health Notes about her battle with depression. If you missed it, backtrack and catch up with part one, part two, part three, and part four. I feel very blessed that she shared her story here.

Regarding mental health advocacy, Project Helping Hands is now also offering mental health resources to Hurricane Ike victims, NAMI has established a special fund to help Gustav and Ike victims, Mental Health America has launched its Vote for America’s Mental Health campaign, and the DBSA has launched a support group for parents of people with mood disorders.

In the world of mental health news, mental health professionals seem to be choosing methods that aren’t proven effective over methods that are proven effective when treating children suffering from PTSD, researchers are still linking pot and psychosis (did I read another study about that once?), overbearing parents may be fostering obsessive children (hmm…kind of like college students having low self-esteem because of their parents’ high expectations?), and homosexual men are experiencing poor mental health due to homonegativity (which is a “negative attitude towards homosexuality”).

Here at b5media’s Health & Wellness Channel, we’re as busy as always:

• Kelly at Grounded Fitness wants to tell y’all about her GoTrybe.com one-year membership giveaway.
• Marijke at Womb Within wants to promote National Seat Check Saturday (which takes place today!).
• Karen at Pink Ribbon Review is recruiting people to join her team for Lee National Denim Day.
• Liz and Mary Emma remind us that today is the deadline to submit to the All About Alzheimer’s Carnival.

Enjoy your Saturdays!

Image: SXC

Post from: Blisstree

Saturday Sanity: Putting An End To A Hectic Week

The silver lining: I’m stronger than I thought.

Right now I am still taking medications for my depression. There are side effects, but I can live with them. I still only work part time. To stay sane, I need more sleep than most people. But for the first time in a long while I feel like I am back in my own skin. I am my authentic self. I work hard to remain balanced.

To end this series on a positive note, looking back, there are several silver linings to having had to battle with anxiety and depression:

First, I can now trust for sure that what the doctors say is true: depression is treatable. There were many months where I believed I would never get better. I had lost hope. In my recovery, I took it one day at a time, and eventually I was happy again. If this little tidbit alone helps anyone who is reading this blog post, then I am grateful. Once again, here it is: depression and anxiety are treatable. You can get better. And you will. Just be an advocate for yourself. You deserve fair treatment; you deserve whatever you need to get better from this miserable illness.

Second, therapy has a positive trickle-down effect. There was a time when I worried I was spending too much time on my own treatment (therapy, hospitalization, doctor’s visits). I wondered if I really deserved all the attention. After all, there are much worse-off people in the world who could benefit from this help. I remember when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, I told my therapist she should consider going down there to help. She laughed, and reminded me that all the good she does for me, in turn, helps my family, my success at work, and my community indirectly. She reminded me that I deserve all the help I need. And that by helping myself, I am helping those around me. Part of why I decided to write this series was to share this idea of the trickle-down effect of seeking help for depression and anxiety. After all, if you had a broken leg, you’d be no good to anyone to leave it that way, and you would get a cast at the doctor, right? Seeking treatment is, in my experience, always a good decision.

Finally, I’m stronger than I realized. In January 2007, we learned that my husband had advanced colorectal cancer that had spread to his lungs. The prognosis was, and remains, grave. When the reality of this difficult situation hit me I was worried. Could I handle looking after myself, my kids, and a sick spouse? The answer, I’ve learned, is yes! I am now drawing help and strength from the very social network that I had put in place as part of my goal to stay healthy and balanced. I now know how to ask for help from family and friends. I am still working part time, and have factored care-giving into my lifestyle. I am much stronger than I ever realized. What a gift.

Follow my blog, www.talkingtoair.com, and my husband Derek’s blog www.penmachine.com. Thanks for reading.

© Airdrie Miller

Image: SXC

Airdrie Miller teaches high school mathematics in Vancouver, BC. She also co-hosts and produces a podcast called Lip Gloss and Laptops. She has two beautiful daughters and a bloggable husband. Check him out at penmachine.com.

Post from: Blisstree

In My Experience: Surviving Major Depression: Part Four

Tips for Returning to Work

After having been on medical leave for 12 months, I returned to work. I remember feeling awkward about what I would say, and how I would manage. After all, I hadn’t been on vacation – I’d been through a difficult episode of major depression. Coming back turned out to be very successful, and I would like to share with you some the things that helped my return to work go smoothly.

1. Start slow. I returned to work part time (30% at first, then increasing to 60% when I was ready). My long-term disability plan has a specific program designed to help you return to work slowly. The income you earn is deducted from your monthly benefit, thus allowing you to have some regular sick days – depression doesn’t make you immune to colds and flu, after all. People returning to work after a long medical absence usually have no sick days accumulated, which can be daunting.

2. Take ownership of your information. The specifics of my illness are details that I can choose to share with co-workers or not. I chose to tell a few key friends at work about my illness, but that was it. There is no rule saying that everyone needs to know your business. In today’s information age (think Facebook, Twitter, blogging, tabloids), we sometimes forget that privacy is still an human right. It’s okay to keep stuff to yourself.

3. Rehearse what you want to say to people. In group therapy, I was directed to rehearse what I would say to people when I got back to work. I had a chance to come up with some strong yet vague answers for any nosy nellies who might catch me off-guard with personal questions. Most people, it turns out, are sensitive and don’t ask too much. However, one day a co-worker did approached me in the lunch room and said “Hey, what happened to you?” really loudly in front of everyone. I was prepared, and replied, “I would be happy to sit down and tell you about it later, but now isn’t a good time for me to get into it. But I’m fine now; thanks for asking.” I walked away feeling both empowered and polite.

4. Be aware of self-stigma. In hindsight, I realize that I was far harder on myself than any of my co-workers. Many people have a friend or family member with an illness like depression, so they understand the difficulty and are sensitive to that. My co-workers were just glad to see that I was back.

5. Try to stay balanced. Try to balance the hours you work with other more self-nurturing activities. Make time to see your therapist (don’t quit therapy just because you are back to work!). Factor in exercise, friends, and family to your new balanced lifestyle.

In Part Four: The silver lining: I’m stronger than I thought.

© Airdrie Miller

Image: SXC

Airdrie Miller teaches high school mathematics in Vancouver, BC. She also co-hosts and produces a podcast called Lip Gloss and Laptops. She has two beautiful daughters and a bloggable husband. Check him out at penmachine.com.

Post from: Blisstree

In My Experience: Surviving Major Depression: Part Three

Baking a lot of cookies is not a cure for clinical depression.

My life was going along well, I thought. It was September of 2003, and I was very busy. I worked full time, my husband worked part time, and we were raising two young daughters with the help of our parents, who took turns providing daycare.

I felt like something was not quite right with my life, and I wondered what it might be. I began to worry a little more than usual. I had a lump in my throat that would not go away. But other than that, I was fine.

Then one day at work I had what can best be described as an hour-long panic attack. It was the most frightening experience of my life; usually my panic attacks lasted only a minute or two, and I had not had one for two years.

This was different. It was as if I was metamorphosing into a tearful, terrified, scared and weakened shell of my former self. And it happened fast. (Think of the Incredible Hulk, but in reverse.)

I went home from work that day, shaking, and out of the blue told my husband that I could never go back to my workplace. It was like something had snapped, and I had no reserves to draw upon. I was broken. I was crazy.

Thankfully my employer did not accept my immediate resignation, and my union contacted me and counseled me to apply for a medical leave. I am forever grateful to my supervisor at the time, who gave me the number of the Employee Assistance Program, and a few kind words telling me to take as much time as I needed to get better. I did not tell anyone else at work what was wrong. I vanished.

I once again called on the psychiatrist who had helped me with my post-partum depression, and returned to therapy. For three months I attended weekly therapy sessions, but refused to take antidepressant medication. I thought that the medication would change my personality. And I was afraid of the side effects.

My husband started a new, full-time job. I baked a lot of cookies, cleaned my house from floor to ceiling and hoped I would be able to get better all by myself. I remember replacing all the 60W bulbs in my kitchen with 100W bulbs. My illness made it so I perceived everything dimmer.

As Christmas approached my anxious tearful mood sank into a very deep, dark depression. Even as that got worse, my psychiatrist was being treated for a back problem and was regularly unavailable. I visited my family doctor, who prescribed me some antidepressants, and I finally started taking them. But it was too late.

I hit my rock bottom one night during the Christmas holidays. The details of this time are far too personal to discuss here. The thoughts that occurred to me in my darkest hour are worse than any nightmare I’ve ever had. I experienced what they call “psychotic features.” Sounds bad—it was.

My husband drove me to the ER, and before morning I had a bed in the psychiatric ward: voluntary commitment.

My two weeks in the hospital were not at all how I had imagined hospitalization would be. I started new medications and began to sleep more. I was getting the help I so desperately needed—the sense of relief alone lifted my mood. I made friends, laughed a little, and most importantly I expanded my support network to include another psychiatrist, and a hospital-based counselor. My husband and children visited, and we played cards.

Shortly after I was discharged I enrolled in an outpatient program for people healing from mental illness. The program, which was held in the basement of the psychiatric ward at my hospital, was 40 hours per week and completely funded by the provincial government. I was involved in intense group therapy, exercise, social time and vocational therapy. The program lasted three months, and can best be described as “Depression University.”

It wasn’t easy work getting better; always two steps forward, one step back. But I did heal.

I’ll never forget the day in the Spring of 2004. I had been crying after a group therapy session. The group went for a walk outside afterward. When I blew my nose, I could smell the flowers again. I had not realized how dulled my senses had been. The sun warmed my face. I could feel again.

In Part Three: Returning to work after a major depression, some tips to make it easier.

© Airdrie Miller

Image: SXC

Airdrie Miller teaches high school mathematics in Vancouver, BC. She also co-hosts and produces a podcast called Lip Gloss and Laptops. She has two beautiful daughters and a bloggable husband. Check him out at penmachine.com.

Post from: Blisstree

In My Experience: Surviving Major Depression: Part Two

Oh baby, that’s not just the blues!

My first experience with clinical depression came in the year 2000. I remember clearly: I was in the maternity ward recovering from the birth of my second daughter. She was a healthy baby, and my labor was relatively easy. But something was not right; I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. It was like I was falling, out of control, and afraid. My confident cheery personality had just disappeared overnight. Literally 12 hours after the delivery, I was a different person.

But rather than tell anyone, I kept my melancholy feelings to myself. I even lied to the friendly nurse who interviews new moms about their postpartum moods. I said I was feeling fine.

Hoping it was just the temporary “Baby Blues” I had read about, I decided to wait a couple of weeks and see if it got better. It did not. And after a month of crying and isolating myself in my room with the baby, I finally called for help. By then I was having panic attacks again, too.

Earlier in my life I had suffered terribly with anxiety and panic disorder. At that time I received help from a psychiatrist through the Student Health Department at my university. I did not want to take medication, and was treated with talk therapy. By the time I graduated I had a grounding in both academic and emotional education. What a gift.

In my experience, one of the easiest ways to find good psychiatric help is through university Student Health facilities, which are often associated with teaching hospitals. These drop-in clinics are equipped to deal with the many young people who have their first experience with mood disorders during their college years. But you must be a student to use a Student Health clinic—they are not open to the general public.

A decade later, I was fortunate that I could call upon that same psychiatrist, who was now in private practice, to help me. I was diagnosed with post-partum depression (PPD) and began therapy. I chose to try to recover without the help of medication, even though my psychiatrist offered antidepressants as well: talk therapy had worked really well for me before. I was also still nursing my child, and was concerned that antidepressants might affect her.

Slowly I started to come out of the hole. I would often see my psychiatrist twice a week, with the baby in tow of course. I started to feel stronger, then returned to work full time after my seven months of maternity leave ended. With a handful of smiling baby pictures, I picked up right where I had left off.

While I continued with talk therapy, I told very few people at work about my PPD. I was embarrassed. By the time my mood lifted, I tried to put the whole “depression thing” behind me. But I could not shake the feeling that I was a different person somehow. A person whose shoes I did not feel like myself in. I called it my “shift.” I blamed this feeling on the fact that I was now a working mother of two.

I was succeeding at being a good wife and mother at home, and an energetic highly motivated employee at work. I was Super Mom. The only difference between me and your average Super Mom, however, was I now had a history of depression.

In Part Two: Baking a lot of cookies is not a cure for clinical depression.

It would take a major depressive episode in 2003 for me to learn that what I really needed was medication and to learn the skill of balancing my life with respect to work, rest, and play.

© Airdrie Miller

Image: SXC and Johan Cloete.

Airdrie Miller teaches high school mathematics in Vancouver, BC. She also co-hosts and produces a podcast called Lip Gloss and Laptops. She has two beautiful daughters and a bloggable husband. Check him out at penmachine.com.

Post from: Blisstree

In My Experience: Surviving Major Depression: Part One