In a continuing examination of my mental illness, I periodically try to make sense of my experience. It's my goal to share with others who might be experiencing similar things in order to support and comfort them. I am not interested in drawing attention to myself, except as just one of a million stories of mental illness.
In case you need to catch up, here's my life in brief: I have had severe depression since my teens, if not before. It manifested in rage and anger, so I seemed to many who dealt with me to be an arrogant, snotty, angry, rebellious teenager. Mostly I just hated myself. Back in the 70s, in a small midwestern town, getting mental health care was fraught with stigma, and I wouldn't have known to ask for it anyway. In the 80s, I got married and started working. I was a mess inside, but trying super hard to hold it together on the outside, not always successfully. In 1989 I had my first child.
Motherhood is hard enough, but so much harder when you have a mental illness. I had no time to focus on myself and my needs. Two more children came along. The thing that saved me during this time was breastfeeding. As odd as that may sound, the hormones released when you nurse a child are calming and create feelings of well-being. I am convinced that if I had not breastfed my kids, I would have probably gone to a mental hospital. I was not at my best during those years, but the hormones helped.
However, that didn't last forever. I reverted to my tactics of presenting a good mask to the world, while inside I was dying. Rage and anger were frequent.
Finally, I reached a breaking point. I was in a deep, dark hole that only got deeper and darker. I was never going to get out. My husband, who was one of the few people who knew the true me and who never wavered in his support, suggested I seek out help and medication. (Until this point, I had a strong bias against the medical world, and a very strong bias against meds.) I started antidepressants and therapy. It was a rocky road, but it helped.
That was about 15 years ago. Since then, I have been on meds continuously, went through years of therapy with a very kind and wonderful counselsor. I have an excellent psych nurse who has monitored me and guided me through this medical maze. If you are so inclined, you can read about those years in other posts on this blog.
So here I am now. My psych nurse last year informed me that I am her most stable patient and she only needed to see me every six months. At one appointment she brought up the idea of potentially weaning off meds to see how I would do. I immediately squelched that idea. The mere thought returning to my darkness scared the shit out of me.
Since then, I have taken a good hard look at where I am. In these 15 years, I have learned a lot about self care. I have learned where my limitations are and when I need to step off the runaway train of modern life to take a breath. I have supplemented with nutrients that help support my mental health and observed how much I need constant outdoor exposure to be well. In short, I have been able to put my own needs first. This is a hard thing.
I realized recently that I have made friends with my depression. Sounds weird, but it's true. Depression has given me a lot of personal insight and growth. It's helped me have compassion for others, to have compassion for myself. It's strengthened me like nothing else. I have had to learn to accept things about myself. It's connected me with others. And, although I'm still working on this, depression has taught me how to strip off the mask and be authentic with everyone, especially myself.
So I am ready for this step I'm now taking. With my psych nurse's blessing, I am weaning off my meds. It's scary to say. It's only been a few days. I don't know what lies ahead. It may not work for me. I have often said during these 15 years that if I have to take meds forever, I will. And I stand by that. However, in taking care of myself, I have a sense that now is the time for me to work with my mental illness in a different way, a way of not being in crisis, but in cohesion. I have no doubt that there will be ups and downs. I am stronger now and I hope I will be able to weather the downs. I have better support now, and the stigma in society is less than it was 40 years ago.
I am not suggesting that anyone else should try this. I can't speak for others. And if you want to try, make sure to do it with medical supervision. I am not going cold turkey. I am going extremely slowly, so it may take more than a year before I am off entirely. (I was on such a high dose that I can cut by tens or twenties of milligrams and still be on a super high dose, so it will take time.)
Why, you might ask, would someone do this when they are finally stable and in a really good place? My mental illness is stable, but my physical health is facing some risks that I believe might be exacerbated by my long-term, high dose of antidepressants. I feel like I am in a place now where taking care of my physical health needs to balance with my mental health. And I am ready to try to do that. I have spent nearly my whole life dealing with my mental state--either trying to hide it, live through it, or treat it--that my physical wellness has taken a back seat. That's not good for me any more than living with an untreated mental illness. So, before I get to some sort of physical crisis, I am going to see if I can find a balance to my physical and mental health so that I can live into old age with good health.
I will continue to share my story, if only to honestly portray what one person's experience is like, if it helps someone else.
Friday, May 18, 2018
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Meditation on What Kind of World I Want to Live In
It's January, which means my Idaho legislature is in session. It's Wednesday, which means a group of us stand outside on the capitol steps in prayer--whatever form that may take for each one of us--for the people inside to have the courage to create laws that reflect our values. We are the Interfaith Equality Coalition, an alliance of faith communities working together to bring equality, justice, and dignity for all people through our compassionate witness, education, and advocacy.
As I stand on the steps, my prayer usually takes the form of a meditation, a focus, or a song in my head. Today, what kept popping up for me was irony. Maybe dichotomy. Maybe duality.
I am a person of faith, yet I do not want to live in a country with a religious government. A theocracy. Is that what the term is? However, the kind of world I want to live in sort of defines what most people consider religious values--decency, compassion, love. Ironically, most of the so-called religious folks running the government don't seem to be operating under those values. But it doesn't escape my thoughts that one doesn't need to be of any faith tradition for the values of decency, compassion, and love to be your guiding ideals.
A lot of people, including one man who encountered us today, say they don't think it's government's place to intrude on the lives of citizens by forcing everyone to pay for the things we think should be inalienable rights. I guess that issue comes down to what we see as the role of government.
I see the role of government as protecting the citizens, not just from military or terrorist threats, but from injustice, inequality, and need. For me, it is indeed self evident that all beings are created equal, and I think it is the role of government to define and protect those rights. So instead of making laws that leave out vast swaths of humans, the laws should include everyone. In my mind, that means people from other countries, from all races and religions, from all gender identifications and sexual orientations, and all socio-economic origins.
What that looks like in practice, for me, is that everyone pays enough in taxes so that injustices brought on by lack of healthcare can be made just with all people being provided that healthcare univserally. It means that those who have been excluded or marginalized by society in the past should be specifically named in our equal rights protections--just to make damn sure who is entitled to those rights. It means that we fund housing strategies to provide a place for everyone, that we make sure education is there for everyone. This shouldn't be lefft up to the charitable feelings of a few, but should be a mandatory part of living in our society--we ALL pay for and ALL receive the benefits of this free society.
I find irony in the politics of people who vote for leaders who cut healthcare, cut education funding, and cut funding for veterans' or senior programs, but then tout their religious goodness of "serving" these folks. Part of serving is to hold all of society accountable for those in need.
I find it ironic that our society sees fit to imprison people who have no homes because it is illegal to camp on the sidewalk. Shouldn't it be illegal for us a society to allow people to have nowhere but the sidewalk to sleep? We should be the ones imprisoned for neglecting our fellow humans. If a parent allowed a child to fend for themselves outside in the winter nighttime, that is what would happen.
Because of my activism, I fortunately see hundreds and hundreds of folks, religious or not, who want to see a world where people are housed, where people's heathcare needs don't bankrupt their families, where greed on an exponential scale is reined in from destroying the earth, and where justice and equality form the basis for all our laws. Unfortunately, I don't see the leaders of the country aiming for these same goals. Quite the opposite at times, it seems.
That is why I have made it my practice to stand on these steps and meditate every week. I hope our elected officials can come to see the wisdom of a path that values all and serves all, rather than the path in which we let people die of homelessness, insufficient healthcare, a toxic earth, and the cruel greed of the very rich.
As I stand on the steps, my prayer usually takes the form of a meditation, a focus, or a song in my head. Today, what kept popping up for me was irony. Maybe dichotomy. Maybe duality.
I am a person of faith, yet I do not want to live in a country with a religious government. A theocracy. Is that what the term is? However, the kind of world I want to live in sort of defines what most people consider religious values--decency, compassion, love. Ironically, most of the so-called religious folks running the government don't seem to be operating under those values. But it doesn't escape my thoughts that one doesn't need to be of any faith tradition for the values of decency, compassion, and love to be your guiding ideals.
A lot of people, including one man who encountered us today, say they don't think it's government's place to intrude on the lives of citizens by forcing everyone to pay for the things we think should be inalienable rights. I guess that issue comes down to what we see as the role of government.
I see the role of government as protecting the citizens, not just from military or terrorist threats, but from injustice, inequality, and need. For me, it is indeed self evident that all beings are created equal, and I think it is the role of government to define and protect those rights. So instead of making laws that leave out vast swaths of humans, the laws should include everyone. In my mind, that means people from other countries, from all races and religions, from all gender identifications and sexual orientations, and all socio-economic origins.
What that looks like in practice, for me, is that everyone pays enough in taxes so that injustices brought on by lack of healthcare can be made just with all people being provided that healthcare univserally. It means that those who have been excluded or marginalized by society in the past should be specifically named in our equal rights protections--just to make damn sure who is entitled to those rights. It means that we fund housing strategies to provide a place for everyone, that we make sure education is there for everyone. This shouldn't be lefft up to the charitable feelings of a few, but should be a mandatory part of living in our society--we ALL pay for and ALL receive the benefits of this free society.
I find irony in the politics of people who vote for leaders who cut healthcare, cut education funding, and cut funding for veterans' or senior programs, but then tout their religious goodness of "serving" these folks. Part of serving is to hold all of society accountable for those in need.
I find it ironic that our society sees fit to imprison people who have no homes because it is illegal to camp on the sidewalk. Shouldn't it be illegal for us a society to allow people to have nowhere but the sidewalk to sleep? We should be the ones imprisoned for neglecting our fellow humans. If a parent allowed a child to fend for themselves outside in the winter nighttime, that is what would happen.
Because of my activism, I fortunately see hundreds and hundreds of folks, religious or not, who want to see a world where people are housed, where people's heathcare needs don't bankrupt their families, where greed on an exponential scale is reined in from destroying the earth, and where justice and equality form the basis for all our laws. Unfortunately, I don't see the leaders of the country aiming for these same goals. Quite the opposite at times, it seems.
That is why I have made it my practice to stand on these steps and meditate every week. I hope our elected officials can come to see the wisdom of a path that values all and serves all, rather than the path in which we let people die of homelessness, insufficient healthcare, a toxic earth, and the cruel greed of the very rich.
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