I often thought throughout my lifetime that there was something that was just not right. Even as a child I had emotions and thoughts that a child need not have. I would worry over the least little thing, I would often cry myself to sleep; but why? Anxiety flooded my being, even when I didn’t know what anxiety meant. Behind those big brown eyes, there lived a child in despair, a child dealing with what should only be adult worries and concerns. Looking back over all those years, I realize today that I struggled with a mental illness, even then as a child, I suffered with a broken mind. And sad to say, that little boy still struggles today. There was never a cure, never did my wounds heal and what did heal left unimaginable scars.
Fifty-seven years have come and gone, yet today I’m still struggling; fighting an illness that is genetically hidden in my DNA. Not unlike someone that was predisposed to some other neurological, physical or psychological disorder/disability. I may not be confined to a wheelchair, but none the less; disabled. Depression and anxiety changes who you are, the person who I was is long gone. Now I have to accept my new ‘normal’; a normal that is so far from anything but ‘normal’. A normal that I hate but so far out of my control. I struggle so much just to do the simple things, that once I just took for granted. Just driving my car, the anxiety that creates would stop me from driving at all; if I let it. It may not stop me but it sure limits to where I can drive. Then there’s the anxiety of being in a crowd, I can’t breath, I’m overwhelmed, but no one knows because they cannot physically see what I’m feeling inside. Those are just two examples of what someone experiences who struggles with an anxiety disorder, and believe me there are lots more.
The news came once again recently, that someone I knew died by suicide. The tragedy in all of this is not only the passing of this person but the stigma, the shame and the judgment that comes with it; and that’s the biggest tragedy of all. We are so quick to pass judgment, when in reality that is not our place to do so. Majority of people that die by suicide are certainly not in the frame of mind to make such a decision if they weren’t suffering from some form of mental or neurological disorder. The disorder has changed who that person really is and was before their illness. So please let’s not judge anyone, because no one is exempt, no one! But let’s console those who are grieving, and allow them to grieve with respect and honor , without shame or embarrassment. That would be the thing to do, every life matters, so be kind and compassionate.
So today I live on, I fight with all that is within me. I try to help those who are struggling themselves, to help them see that maybe tomorrow will be better, just maybe.
Summer surrounds me in all her glory, but why am I feeling the freezing cold of winter? Why can’t I just for this once just soak in it’s brilliant rays, relax in the warmth of the summer season? The brighter the sun shines, the more my restless mind spins out of control. Mental illness is fatal and I’m fighting for my life. Everyday, sunshine or rain makes no difference, I have to fight to calm this war within. I am tired, I am sick and tired of this disorder. When will it end? When will this war be over?
Sometimes I’m so preoccupied with trying to help others that I forget to take care of myself. Most times I feel I have to be well because I have so many responsibilities and demands to care for others, that I forget I need to be well for me too. If I’m not well then how can I be of help to those around me, especially my sweet Lauren, who depends on me for most everything.. I need to be present for her. no matter how I’m feeling, a really bad day or not, there are no exceptions.
I desperately try everyday to be the best that I can be and lots of days I fall short. Mental illness has stolen so much from me that there’s so little of me left to give. But I do what I can with what I have. Writing as sure been one of my greatest avenues of expressing what mental illness is and helping to unleash my untamed mind. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother, are my thoughts and writing just falling on deaf ears. As this all been in vain?
What is to follow is a presentation that I was supposed to present at one of my book launches, that never happened. To say I was disappointed would have been an understatement. I wasn’t angry about it, I was hurt. For someone dealing with mental illness; this could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was so easy for me to just give up, there and then. But I didn’t and here I am telling my story once again. You may say, “Why bother?” Well here are my reasons to not give up writing, maybe I can just help someone. -In any given year, 1 in 5 Canadians experience a mental illness. (Centre for Addiction and Mental Health). -By the time Canadians reach 40 years of age, 1 in 2 have or have had a mental illness. -Young people aged 15-24 are more likely to experience mental illness and/or substance use disorders than any other age group. -People with substance use disorders are up to 3 times more likely to have a mental illness. -June 17, 2021 – More than 700,000 people die due to suicide every year. (World Health Organization). -Suicide is the fourth leading cause of death among 15-29 year olds in the world. -About 4,000 Canadians per year die by suicide – an average of almost 11 suicides a day. -Worldwide, every 40 seconds, a person dies by suicide due to depression!
These are reasons enough to write; to write a blog, to write a book, to share my thoughts and experiences on my mental illness. My writing will not change the world, but it will help change my little part of the world. It will make me feel; I have done my part. I have done something!
Imagine, just imagine you woke up tomorrow morning and you felt nothing but helplessness, hopelessness and despair. Well that’s what it’s like for us who suffer from a mental illness, especially those with depression.
I’m not a doctor, I’m not a psychiatrist, psychologist, therapist, none of these. But I am someone who suffered from a mental illness for all my life. This lifetime with mental illness has provided me with a vast knowledge and experience that I would never have learned in a book or gained otherwise; I know first hand. Before you stands the face of mental illness. No masks, no put-ons, no pretending; nothing but the truth. The shameful secret. the silent killer, a broken mind. Total transparency! I cannot cure you, I cannot fix you but I can assure you that ‘I GET IT’ and you are not alone. Remember everybody’s story is different. This is mine!
I don’t remember not being on an anti depressant medication for my whole adult life. I was 16 years old (1980) when I had my first breakdown. But in 2012 I had a mental breakdown that deemed me non-functioning, a walking corpse, crippled and disabled; not confined to a wheelchair but equally disabled. A brain that shut down, a body that refused to move. During the next few years I tried every medication out there, every cocktail of drugs available to the medical field. Nothing was working; NOTHING! ECT – Electro convulsive therapy was my last hope of escaping this living hell. But much to my dismay, it did not work. I now had lost all hope of ever getting better.
I kept pushing forward, I had so given up on life. I did not want to live, this illness had taken away my desire to live. This was not living, I was barely surviving. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. I fought with every ounce of strength I had in me to fight this beast I call mental illness. I eventually fought my way back to somewhat of a functioning level. I began to write and found this to be a great source of therapy. I began to blog. It was here you would find what was going on inside this broken mind. Each blog captured my thoughts right in the moment it was written; raw, true, transparent and painful. It was through these writings that I eventually created my book; Beyond The Door – A Journey Through A Lifetime Of Mental Illness.
It is through my writing, my artwork and my faith; that I have found a channel to survival. While I constantly struggle with my illness, I have hope that tomorrow will be a better day. I couldn’t always say that and there are still days when it’s hard to believe but everyday I strive to live and help educate others, break down walls of stigma that have for years, made mental illness such a misunderstood and taboo illness. The shame associated with it, sadly keep many from seeking help. I hope to put a face to this illness and keep sharing my personal story to help others.
If this book (available at Amazon.ca) doesn’t give you a new perspective and break down some walls of stigma, then I have failed as an author. But I know this book will do even more! It will stir within you a desire to know more, more about this illness, more about this machine we call the mind!
Imagine if you woke up tomorrow morning to a complete feeling of utter hopelessness, helplessness and despair. Imagine that no matter how hard you try to get out of this dark hole of despair something within your brain/mind keeps pulling you back into this black hole of helplessness and hopelessness. Every thought is an effort, every action feels like an impossibility; you feel totally disabled. Life is happening all around you and you feel like you are suspended in midair; just watching, having no control. This has been my mornings for the past few weeks or maybe I should say years.
When I feel the onset of these thoughts and feelings, I fear that they are an indication of a relapse of a breakdown. And this is something that cannot happen, if there’s something that I can do to deter a relapse of the magnitude of my past breakdowns, then I must do it! There is the danger that I could not survive another shutdown of my body and mind. In my past experiences with the treatment of my illness; I feel little hope. Especially being diagnosed; treatment resistant. My life since 2012, which was my last total breakdown (meaning, deemed non-functioning) has been a struggle everyday. Some days worse then others. But one thing I know for sure, although I am highly medicated, I still fight to have an okay day.
Having a mental illness with no cure, is frightening in itself but realizing within myself that there is very little help in my case, certainly exacerbates my situation. It certainly leaves me feeling hopeless and helpless, and that’s how I’m feeling right now. And that’s why I’m writing today: I feel there’s nothing else I can do, writing certainly helps me to express my feelings and thoughts, no matter how horrid and fearful. Sometimes I feel I’m writing a fictitious story about somebody else’s life but to my dismay, this is my own non fictitious life story.
Imagine you wake to another morning and your first plan of attack for survival is, self talk. Self talk has been a tool that I have used to bring me through many very dark days. Self talk is where you repeat a mantra, an affirmation over and over again in your mind. Hoping that eventually you can convince your brain that you are going to be okay. My mantra for this morning is, ‘It’s going to be okay, you are going to be okay’. I just hope I can convince myself of this and I really am going to be okay. I have to be okay, I just have to be okay!
Imagine that this is your life and you feel you are losing control of your health and your life as you know it. Imagine, Imagine, Imagine! What would you do?
Darkness falls around me like a shroud. It’s not the darkness I fear but the night. My dreams are haunted by the never ending trauma of my past. But yet I sleep to escape the torment of the day, a reprieve from reality. My nightmares devour my only since of peace. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be different; peace and calm will flood my mind leaving no space for terror. How I long for peace of mind, the end to my battlefield, the never ending struggle to just survive. Depression and anxiety has stolen anything that resembles a ‘normal’ life. It is my deepest longing to just be okay, to just feel ‘normal’ for once, to love life.
Morning comes again bringing with it the light of a new day. But I know today will be a struggle, most days are, some worse then others. I know this all sounds horrible and who would want to read such depressing and hopeless accounts of a day in the life of a struggling mentally ill person. But it is what it is! Try living with it for day in and day out. Not much fun believe me. I guess when I say mentally ill, many people conjure up ideas of a ravenous lunatic, an out of control insane person. But depression/anxiety is probably the exact opposite. Depression for me can be compared to being in a constant state of grief, that never really goes away. And this so interferes with the function of life’s everyday tasks and stresses. Life as to move on but it’s like I’m always trying to play catch up, but I never really do.
I can’t remember how many times I’ve said I’m fine just because I didn’t want to burden others with just how I was really feeling. Ashamed to admit to the truth of how I really felt. So everyday I fight, fight to be okay. But I’m tired, tired of being strong when really I’m not strong at all. The ‘cover’ to my book may look great on the outside but on the inside it’s ripped and torn. So like the old saying goes, ‘Never judge a book by it’s cover’. Afraid that if I open the cover, the pages of my heart would fall out for all the world to see, and if they saw maybe they would judge me and consider it all weakness. When all along I know it can’t be weakness, I ‘know’ it’s not weakness but my mind tells me it is. And everyday I tell myself, over and over again, that it’s not what I feel but what I know. I cannot live my life by feelings but what I know to be the truth. And to live with this hellish disorder of the brain; I have to be strong in order to survive.
Tomorrow may be a ‘good’ day and by a good day I am not defining it by those who do not suffer from a mental illness, there’s no comparison. I live my life by hope, hoping that tomorrow will be a good day. If I lost my will to hope, I would have nothing left but an empty well of darkness. So I will press on, I will not quit the fight, even when overwhelming fatigue and exhaustion have left me lifeless; I will not give in. I will fight for my life. To those who are struggling and feel like you have no hope, take it from me, if I can do it, then so can you. I believe in you!
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Over the past few years I have written enough blogs on the subject of depression and anxiety to fill a book, and yet I still feel I haven’t adequately defined it. I guess the only real way to understand what depression is, is to experience it for yourself and you really don’t want to do that. It differs from one person to the other and ranges from mild to major symptoms. We really can’t compare my experience with mental illness to someone else’s.
I have used many analogies to try and define what it felt like to live with depression and anxiety on a daily basis. They all give you a better understanding of this illness. I wanted to share a post that popped up on my newsfeed today, it was quite interesting, so I thought I’d share it with you.
This is so true for someone who suffers from major depression. Your body is so exhausted and tired of fighting the raging thoughts in your head, that all your head wants is to die. The never ending torture makes life not worth living; well that’s what your distorted mind is telling you.
But there is hope and it’s not rocket science; you can take control of your thoughts to a certain degree, at least to a place where life doesn’t seem so unbearable as you thought. Thoughts are just that; thoughts. They cannot harm you unless you allow them to, you don’t always have to believe every thought that comes into your head. When you are fighting this mental illness, your mind is producing thoughts that are distorted and untrue; so don’t always believe your own mind. Your best defence is to realize which thoughts are distorted and which are not; not always easy to do but you can do it. It could save your life! Talk to yourself, tell yourself you are going to get through this, it will not last forever. Be gentle with yourself, do whatever it takes to get well and only you know what that is. Go for a short walk not a marathon, listen to some of your favourite music, take a nap if you need it and don’t feel guilty about doing so or just watch a funny tv show. Or just sing in the shower or bath. These are the little things and that’s where you have to start; baby steps.
With the holly, jolly season approaching it can throw us for a loop. Christmas can bring up so many different feelings and emotions; all not jolly and bright! I really have an hard time during Christmas, it’s expected of us to be an Hallmark fantasy movie; where all is merry and bright. But when you suffer from a mental illness, that is so far from how you are really feeling, maybe even quite the opposite. And with that comes much guilt, shame, anger toward yourself for not feeling the spirit of Christmas that is so expected of you. But if you are just not feeling it, that’s okay, just do what you can and that’s all is required.
I may never see the day when I am totally free of this hateful illness but there’s one thing I know and that is; I WILL NEVER LOSE HOPE! Hope is what gets me through the day, hope is what gets me out of bed, hope is what pushes me to enjoy life as best I can while fighting this horrible illness. And you can to, I believe in you , life is worth living; no matter what our broken mind is telling us.
I’ve stated before in previous blogs that writing is therapy, there is a sense of unloading your mind of your ugly thoughts. So if that’s the case, I better start writing because my mind is in a scary place. I want to run, run for my life but where would that bring me? At a dead end! I need to write not just for me but for those who don’t have a voice, those who are screaming in silence. I write to help others understand to some degree; the horrors of this disease and to emphasize that this is a disease, an illness. And that it’s a very dangerous one at that and should never be taken lightly.
Those who suffer from depression, anxiety, panic attacks and other mental illness know all too well the disabling and crippling effects of this illness. Mental illness has the power to destroy and kill lives. And that is why medical attention is a must to survive this illness. Medication and other therapies may not be a cure but they certainly aid in coping with a mental illness and give hope to an illness that seems hopeless. An illness that destroys your will to live. That would be the most important statement that I could write that would sum up this illness called depression. It’s so important I think I need to repeat it again, ‘An illness that destroys your will to live.’ I know because I have been there many times.
Now here I am in the middle of a second wave of covid-19; a province in lockdown, a province in panic, a province in uncertainty. And here I am fighting to get through each day, with a virus that is playing havoc on my mind. My mental illness doesn’t do well in the best of times but throw a pandemic into my already out of control world and it makes for some really rough days. Try has I must to carry on, to live a normal life as possible. And so many days I fail, I just can’t rise above this illness, some days it wins. Days when fatigue takes over, tired of fighting, days when you just don’t want to participate in life anymore. Just getting through the day is a gigantic accomplishment. No matter how hard you try to be positive, to be happy, to live; you cannot force what is not there. I came across this quote today and it really sums up the kind of day I was having. “When people ask, ‘are you okay?’ And you say, ‘I’m just tired’. Yeah. Tired of trying, tired of hoping, tired of coping, tired of existing, tired of breathing, tired of living. I’m just done.”
Yet deep down inside I know I’m not done. Tomorrow will be a better day. I will keep trying, I will keep hoping, I will keep coping, I will keep existing, I will keep breathing, I will keep living. I will not give up. I cannot give up. I will find a way. Although today my depression told me otherwise but I will not listen, I will turn a deaf ear and keep fighting. No matter how rough the day, no matter the burden that I bare, the weight that I carry, I will not give up. Please help me God!
The reality of this illness is there is no cure. I cannot change that no more then a person with cancer can change their illness. But we fight to live the best life we can with what we have. And many times that just doesn’t seem like very much. Days when it takes all that is within us to just move, days when we just want to hide from the world; when we feel so inadequate, impatient and lost. Sometimes I know I’m too hard on myself, when really I should give myself a little credit. I am a survivor and so are you!
Will the ‘restrictions’ of Covid19 kill me before Covid19 does? Don’t get me wrong I know we have to abide by these restrictions and they are put in place for our good, for our protection. And I will follow these restrictions for myself and also for the safety of others.
But having said that, coming from someone who suffers from a mental illness; how am I going to survive? Because right now I have days where I feel I am loosing the battle. Every restriction that is in place are restrictions that trigger my depression and anxiety. I believe this pandemic is difficult even for someone who has good mental health. But those who suffer mental illness; this caged, confined, imprisoned pandemic, would make one worry and wonder if you can survive this hellish existence.
I have no problem in wearing a facemask, I believe it’s the selfless thing to do; if it makes us a little uncomfortable, I think we can tolerate that, especially if it meant protecting someone who is autoimmune comprised or vulnerable. Sometimes we just have to do the right thing and wear a mask, if not for ourselves, then do it for others. I know there are some who just cannot wear a mask because of medical reasons and therefore they have a medical exemption from their doctor. I do believe these people should really limit their outings around others. One for their own protection and two, for the protection of everyone else. To my disbelief there are still those who just blatantly refuse to wear it. Their reasoning; they just don’t want to live their life in ‘fear’. I think sometimes we need a little healthy fear and abide by the restrictions that the Health Care Professionals put in place for our protection. I believe that someone who refuses to wear a mask are just being selfish, careless and inconsiderate of others. I certainly don’t feel that all those who are wearing a mask are living in fear but they just have a lot of common sense. So I will ‘suck it up’ and wear my mask without complaint, it’s the least I can do.
I know right now the media, example ‘Bell Let’s Talk’, are encouraging those who are finding the stress and anxiety of the pandemic is affecting their mental health and they are finding life very difficult. And I totally agree, talking is great therapy and is certainly a means to help each other through these tough days. But I guess there are sometimes, exceptions to every rule. Just yesterday, I was having a really tough day, how I was feeling was unexplainable but it was not good. I was desperately fighting to just cope, to just survive the day. And talking to someone was the last thing I wanted to do; I just wanted to close the door on everyone and just crawl inside myself. I know this was not right but talking wasn’t on the top of my list of coping. So, don’t do as I do but do as I say and talk to someone!
I believe the most trigger provoking restriction of this whole pandemic is, social distancing/living in a bubble. Not being able to spend time with friends and not having a social life is just killing me. The things that once I took for granted, I now crave to do. Just being able to go to the grocery store and smile at the passing customers or stopping and having a chat to a friend we just bumped into. And then just not being able to hug those we meet. Those little things aren’t little anymore, they play havoc on our mental health, even when we don’t realize they are. But for me, getting out, socializing, interacting with others, sharing with others, were all therapy for my mental health. Those were things I desperately craved to help bring me through my dark days. But because of this pandemic I am very limited to what I can do.
We are so blessed here in Newfoundland and Labrador compared to others parts of Canada and the World. But we certainly can’t afford to let our guard down. It’s because of our abiding to the restrictions of Covid19, that I believe have helped to flatten the curve and keep our numbers down. So thanks to our Government and Health Care Professionals for doing such an amazing job. I believe our protection and well being were their top priority and they have to be commended.
One day, hopefully, we will be able to look back on this nightmare and thank God that it did not kill us but we survived. My heart goes out to the tens of thousands that have died because of this deadly virus; worldwide. To those we will never forget, to the families who are still grieving their loss, beyond sad! Even to this very day, we are far from being home free! Still this pandemic sweeps through the earth and taking thousands of lives with it. One day, just one day, maybe just CA one day, we will be free again. I believe we will never be the same again, in this generation, but we will learn once again to live a ‘New Normal’.
In 2012 someone died. That someone was me. Something changed that year that I have fought to resurrect, fought to bring that person back to life; to resuscitate. It’s now 2020 and I’m still trying to find that person who died. My spirit died, my enthusiasm, my zest for life died. Some days are worse then others but this week as left me feeling numb, no motivation; I’m still missing me. And I don’t like the one that’s left behind.
The new me is in a constant struggle to survive. The fighting as left me exhausted, tired and numb. I find it so hard to feel happiness, especially since that’s all I want. I believe happiness is something you shouldn’t have to fight for but should come naturally. And after all these years I thought I would be at a much better place of improvement with my mental health. But it’s like I’m still fighting to keep me alive. Still fighting to resuscitate that lifeless me.
I remember back in 2012, my wife Lisa, described me as a ‘walking corpse’. I’m sure I’ve improved pass that acute stage but it’s been a battle I fought every day. How much can one person fight and how long can a person fight before they come to a breaking point? That’s the question I’ve asked myself during the pass few weeks.
This year as brought many challenges and obstacles for everyone. The worldwide Covid19 pandemic itself as added so much stress and anxiety to us all. But for us, those living with a mental illness, this pandemic as been a trigger and frightening experience and many have found it hard to cope. I’ve certainly had my moments that’s for sure. At times when my wife Lisa was hospitalized for three surgeries in less then a year. Then Lauren with her already comprised immune system was hospitalized for cerebral palsy related issues. And our son, Logan, was thrown around in all this chaos and turmoil; a strong but worried little boy, dealing with issues that no little boy should not have to face.
So in the midst of a world that was so frightening, unpredictable and isolated, I felt the pressure of having to survive. There were days I thought I would crumble but I knew I had to be resurrected to get through this yet another life changing crisis. I knew that if I crumbled we were doomed and I could not let it happen. I was reminded of the safety regulations repeated by a flight attendant on an airline prior to take off. And it was advice that I had to use during this very stressful time. The flight attendant would say, ‘In the event of a drop in cabin pressure; air masks will be released from above your heads. If you are travelling with infants, small children, seniors or anyone requiring assistance with their mask; put on your own mask FIRST!’ And that’s what I had to do, put on my own mask first and then I would be equipped to help those that were in my care. I was resuscitated once again.
Maybe the year to come will be my year to be resurrected. The year I come back to life! For everyone’s sake, I need to return, I need to be there for my family, in every way. I pray for strength, wisdom and endurance to press on, to never give up. To live again!
It’s been months now since I have written a blog, July 25,2020 to be exact (www.harrislisa72.com). I just felt there was nothing else to say. Not sure if that meant I had written all I needed to write about mental illness or if my illness had built a roadblock in my mind. A wall that I could not break through, maybe more the latter.
I became a prisoner in my own mind. So many things that I found enjoyment in, things that were not just hobbies for me but life saving therapy. I wanted so desperately to engage in again but I could not, although I yearned within me to be able. But I just could not. I felt myself spiralling down that dark hole of depression. But I knew I had to rescue myself from that crippling, disabling hole of despair. But how? It felt that my thought process could not function to come up with a plan. I couldn’t write anymore, words could not describe what I was feeling. The one thing that brought me some healing therapy, I felt I couldn’t do anymore; blogging! And thus months went by and I didn’t blog my thoughts. I was frozen in time; speechless.
Everything seemed so overwhelming again. The things in reality that were so small to perform, now seemed like a mountain, a mountain I felt I just could not climb. Days went by and I fought to make each one matter. Some days I did better then others. I was in survival mode. And survive I did, in spite of what my broken mind was telling me.
Many associate mental illness with weakness but I have learned over the years that people with a mental illness are some of the strongest people I know. I am strong (if I weren’t, I would never survive this hellish disease of the mind) but I am tired. I’m tired of fighting just to be okay, something maybe that others know nothing about. But I know there are others out there that know and feel exactly what I’m saying.
We live in a world where we are expected to be happy and positive all the time. If we show our true self, our true feelings, then we are viewed as being different and strange. And of course this is where stigma, prejudice and discrimination comes in. But it’s perfectly okay to feel sad, angry, annoyed, frustrated, scared or anxious. Having these feelings doesn’t make you a ‘negative person’. It makes you human. So I guess I’m human after all because I have certainly dealt with all these feelings. Being depressed doesn’t mean you are negative, it means you are not okay, your ‘happy’ is just not there.
I won’t lie to you and tell you life is easy, it’s not. And when you have a mental illness, everything in life is intensified to the extreme. Just going to the grocery store requires so much mental energy, you have to push yourself out the door. Your mind is telling you; you can’t do this. But you know you have to because if you surrender to your thoughts then your illness will consume you. And you eventually would become ‘paralyzed’ and be forever controlled by your thoughts.
So let’s fight this battle together, we are not alone. You can do this, I can do this. Do I always win this war of the mind, of course not, I’m human. There are days when I have no choice but to give in. But there’s one thing I know, I will not give up! When those really rough days come, I remind myself that I can get through this; one second, one minute, one hour at a time. Remember to be kind to yourself, you are worth it and so am I!
