"The Secret"

 

In my last post I asked you to be brave, just a little bit. I think it's only fair that I take a brave step, too. So here goes.

 

I have been writing this blog for about three years and speaking openly about my experiences with depression and anxiety for a lot longer than that. I have shared much with you. Some things I hold back and keep for myself. But there is something that I want to share because it's time that I stop feeling badly about it.

 

In the depths of my depression, in the darkest of times, I was bulimic. I have only told my doctor this, and perhaps one or two other people. I feel no shame about depression and anxiety but I have felt shame about bulimia. It's been my dirty little secret. It's time to let go of that.

 

So why now? Why have I chosen to disclose this in such a public way? Partly because it does feel a bit hypocritical to be encouraging others to share and let go of self-stigma when I am holding onto some, myself. And partly because eating disorders are such a horrible thing. Someone made a joke to me about wanting to be bulimic. It sat so wrong with me and in the three weeks since, I have thought about it almost every day. I guess today is the day that I decided that joke really wasn't OK.

 

I grew up without a weight problem and with a mother who never dieted. We ate healthily as a family. I never felt insecure about my body or how I looked and I never felt any pressure from my mother or father to be anyone that I wasn't. I was lucky. I am telling you this because my experience with bulimia had nothing to do with insecurities about my physical appearance. It started as a way to try and control my stress and anxiety.

 

I was coming out of my first major depressive episode and, still not mentally well, I took the first of two consecutive jobs in which I was miserable. It was a perfect storm: lack of training, horrible management (which led to self-doubt and lowered self-esteem), high stress, and a miss-match in terms of values. These elements all added up to a new kind of misery. In addition to the onset of anxiety, I developed a reliance on food to soothe. Almost every night after work I would eat too much and then cause myself to throw up. I knew it was incredibly unhealthy yet I couldn't stop. The act of purging felt awful in the moment yet oddly calming afterwards. And then I immediately felt remorse, guilt and shame. The next day the cycle of misery, stress, shame, and guilt would start all over again.

 

There are no quick fixes in life. That is something that I have learned through many years and numerous ups and down with mental illness. My experience with bulimia, thankfully, lasted only about three years, off and on. It finally left when I started working at an amazing company, the one that I still work at today. For the last eight years I haven't experienced bulimia but I do still turn to food for comfort; however, certainly not to the dangerous extent that I did.

 

Life is a journey, as they say, and I am a work in progress. I try to view my life experiences as opportunities to grow, to share, and to help those who are on a similar path. It is National Eating Disorder Week in Canada. I am far from an expert on eating disorders but I do know that they can be devastating and deadly. I also know that they are not a weakness, rather an illness. And illness is nothing to be ashamed of.

 

This post is dedicated to my Partners for Mental Health colleagues, Casey and Aidan. Thank you for being braver than me at half my age (!) and inspiring me on a daily basis. And to those of you who I challenged to be brave and who were (and are), thank you for encouraging me to push the boundaries of my own comfort zone!

 

KB xo

 

P.S. For more information about eating disorders please visit the  National Eating Disorder InformationCentre

 



"Tipping Point"

 



I spend almost as much time selecting the image at the top of my blog posts as I do in writing them. This time I was certain that I was going to select something serious and stark - something that would grab you, my dear reader, by the neck. Something that would stir feelings deep within you and compel you to take up the fight. And then I decided on simplicity.

The topic of this post is Bell Let's Talk Day and this year I am feeling bold. The call to action that I feel in my gut is particularly strong right now. You see, I feel that we are at a tipping point. We are so close to creating a shift in how we view mental illness. We are so close and yet still so far. Frankly, I feel impatient.

I recently conducted some highly scientific (!) research. I asked my fellow Partners for Mental Health colleagues to answer these questions:
1. Do you feel that awareness of mental health issues in Canada has increased or remained the same over the past couple of years?
2. Do you feel that stigma has decreased or remained the same in the past couple of years?
3. What events or campaigns have positively impacted advocacy for mental health issues?

The results were unanimous.

Awareness of mental illness in Canada has increased in the past few years. Yes, more people are talking about it. It may be whispered or shared in confidence, but people seem to be talking more about these illnesses. That's in great part due to the efforts of the annual Bell Let's Talk campaign, the openness of athletes and public figures like Olympian Clara Hughes, and, very sadly, because of the death by suicide of the great Robin Williams.

Robin Williams, in particular, got the world talking. If you made the mistake of reading social media following his death you would have seen a slew of judgemental comments about how selfish he was and how he threw his wealth and success away. But people also started to question what they had believed to be true about mental illness. If one of the world's most talented people could be in pain and choose to take his life, perhaps there is more to this illness than I thought? Maybe depression is more than just being sad. Could it be?

So how do we make the shift from talking about mental illness to actually feeling empathy towards those who experience it? Do you have to experience it yourself to understand that pain is involved? I don't think so. I have never had cancer but I recognize that someone experiencing it will likely feel physical and emotional pain. I have never broken my arm but I understand that it probably hurts. So why is it such a leap for people to make that connection when it comes to mental illness?

As part of their 2015 campaign, Bell has introduced five simple ways to end stigma:
1. Language Matters
2. Be Kind
3. Educate Yourself
4. Listen and Ask
5. Talk About It

I think that these are all great suggestions. But there is one thing missing: YOU. Without you and your commitment to eradicating stigma, we have nothing. And if I could add a sixth suggestion it would be this: Be Brave.

On January 28, 2015 and beyond will you be a little bit brave with me? Together, we can start a conversation that matters.

KB xo

P.S. Visit the Bell Let's Talk site for more details about the campaign and how you can make a difference! Here are some interesting resources and article about mental illness:

Four Things Leaders Need to Know About Mental Illness

Are You Depressed and Don't Know It?

11 Habits of People With Concealed Depression

Persistent Stigma, Skepticism About Mental Illness Causes Real Harm

"Ten Years/365 Days"

 

I enjoyed one of my favourite Christmas traditions last night. I had dinner with my BFF and her sister - we exchanged gifts and caught up. It was long overdue. My life has felt like a whirling dervish of late. Lots on the go with my awesome new job has meant that I have had to balance my social life and ensure that I have enough downtime to recharge. Unfortunately, that has meant that I haven't seen much of my favourite people.

As we were catching up (where do you even start?!) my BFF looked me in the eye after I told her about a cool thing that happened to me and asked me, point blank, "Why haven't you written about that?" Good question.

When I wrote my last post about a week ago I looked at the post previous to that. It had been two months between posts. Yikes! I love this blog and I adore writing so that was a reminder of what has been on hold over the last few months. Maybe it's time to reflect on the past year, for more reasons than just the fact that 2014 is almost over.

I spent a decade in and out of some very deep depths of depression. A pleasant journey it was not. But with every depressive episode I gained strength and resilience. For some reason I never seemed to completely let go of hope. I struggled, I faltered, I retreated. I also kept moving forward. I never gave up. Trust me when I say that not giving up was a difficult thing.

Along the path through ten years of mental illness I quit jobs and tried new ones, made new friends, lost old friends, lost belief in myself on many levels. Sometimes I faked it - yes, everything is fine. I am fine. Sometimes I was overcome by my illness - there was simply no strength left to fake anything.

Then a miraculous thing happened. Slowly, very slowly, the clouds started to part. I began to emerge from the darkness. I started to believe in myself once again. I decided what was important to me in my life and I started to fight for it, to prioritize it.

It's been an amazing year since I returned to work in November of 2013. I have done things that I never dreamed of. I met two of my heroes. Rick Hansen shook my hand and chatted with me about disability challenges in the workplace. Margaret Trudeau asked me about my experience with depression and then wrapped me in a giant hug. I have begun public speaking on the topics of mental illness, disability and diversity. And I am finally in a job that I can truly say that I am passionate about.

My illness has not completely left me. Nope, depression and anxiety are chronic for me and, realistically, I will most likely not be free of them in this lifetime. That is OK. I experienced the worst and came out through the other side. I am stronger that I ever thought that I would be. Yes, I have learned resilience, compassion, and empathy through that decade of illness. The gifts are great.

Life for each of us is a work in progress. As 2014 comes to an end and 2015 looms near, I am thinking about what I want for myself, where I would like to go. I need a better balance between work and home, I know that. I have big dreams and here's something that this past year has taught me - I can make them happen. Here's what a decade of illness taught me - never give up.

KB xo

 

 

 

"Happy Christmas?!"

Here we are with about two weeks to go until the 'happiest time of year' - Christmas. This year I am conflicted. In truth, I have been conflcited about Christmas for about the past ten years or so. I used to be one of those people who adored every single thing about the season. Not so much anymore.

As I have gotten older, my feelings towards the season have changed. There are plenty of reasons for this. As I have grown older I have seen that it's not an easy time for many people, some of those people being close family members. Although I love finding the perfect gift for someone, I have become tired of the excessive commercialism that is all around us. And I admit, I have fallen into the shopping trap time and again, partly because it has given me a temporary emotional lift. Unfortunately, the emphasis is on temporary - you don't feel so great when you see your credit card statement or bank balance afterwards.

The other big thing that has impacted me over the last decade or so has been depression. I have spent the better part of ten years in an almost constant state of depression. Sometimes mild, sometimes deep, it was always there. The thing with depression is that intellectually you realize that you should feel happy about something but emotionally and physically it is simply impossible. Sometimes you put on that mask and carry on as best as you can and sometimes you withdraw and let the darkness enfold you like a heavy cloak.

This year I am not in a severe depression - I thank my lucky stars for that gift every single day. But I am feeling a bit low and I think I can attribute that to the horrible weather and a very busy Autumn. So let's talk a bit about Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). It's a real thing but what does it look like?

* Feeling sad, grumpy, moody or anxious
* Losing interest in your usual activities
* Eating more and craving carbohydrates
* Gaining weight
* Lethargy, lacking in energy, unable to carry out a normal routine
* Sleeping more amd feeling drowsy during the daytime

I can definitely check a few things on that list and maybe you can too. As a person with a chronic illness, I have to be hyper-vigilant with my mental health. So what to do?

Light Box Therapy: These small boxes emit a light that is meant to mimic natural sunlight. They have proven to be very effective for those who suffer from SAD. They cost around $200 so they aren't inexpensive but check with your workplace benefits program (if you have one) - many plans cover part or all of the cost of a light box. If you can't afford a light box then try to sit by a window as often as you can.
Sleep: Get enough rest! It's such a hectic time of year and it can be challenging to get enough sleep but try to keep to a regular routine. Sleep is an essential element of overall physical and mental well being.
Eat Well: Boring, I know! However, you can't argue with the fact that eating well and ensuring that you drink enough water and get your vitamins is essential to wellness.
Get Outside: When the weather is not great and you are feeling down it can be so hard to motivate yourself to leave the house. I speak from experience when I say that even a quick walk around the block can do wonders for your mood. A walk in nature is even better!

Back to Christmas for a moment. Even though I seem to have The Grinch sitting on one shoulder and Buddy the Elf on the other, doing battle for my Christmas Spirit, I think I am going to try to shift things in favour of Buddy. How am I going to do that? I am going to focus on what I love about Christmas and eliminate all the rest. So that means that my gifts will mostly come from local craft fairs & artists. I will enjoy the Christmas lights that are adorning homes and businesses. And I will hug my niece and nephew, my baby brother, and my mom and dad. And I will give thanks to all those who have helped me on my journey to mental wellness over the past ten years.

Yes, maybe come Christmas I will be sharing Buddy the Elf's simple childlike joy in the season once again. After all, even The Grinch came around in the end.

KB xo

"Right By You"



It's Mental Illness Awareness Week in Canada. Wait - didn't we just have this?! Well, sort of. We had Mental Health Awareness Week back in May. This one is a bit different - this one is about the stark reality of mental illness. The focus is on illness and all that that implies.

I am not going to dance around this so here goes. People die. People die every single day in this country from mental illness and that is just not OK. It's also not OK that we feel anger about it; rather, that we feel angry towards those who commit suicide. It's especially awful when we fail to take seriously a declaration of intent to end a life. None of this is OK.

You know what is really tragic? When we lose young people to suicide. Sadly, it's our youth whose pain we so often brush aside. When a person has the strength to ask for help or describe their pain, it's a powerful thing. We shouldn't place less value on that simply because the person is young. Maybe we should take a leap of faith and believe someone when they say that they feel like they can't go on. The alternative is not worth the gamble.

Here are some things that may surprise and shock you:

* We lose two young  (ages 9-19) Canadians each day to suicide.

* As many as 173 000 young people will try to take their lives in Canada this year alone.

* 70% of mental health problems have their onset during childhood and tean years.

* Three out of four children and youth with a mental health illness will NOT receive treatment.

I don't know about you but none of that makes me feel very good. So enough with the doom and gloom. Yes, there is a lot about this fight that I am in, this fight to increase understanding and eliminate stigma, that can be super frustrating and discouraging. But there are also some really inspiring organizations and individuals out there who are creating positive impact and really making a difference. So let's shine a light on that now.

First of all, I need to give a huge shout out to Partners for For Mental Health . This is an organization that was started about two years ago with the mandate to create discussion and awareness on the topic of mental illness. They are also my volunteer organization of choice, so I may be slightly biased. The great thing about PFMH is how they have connected like minded people across the country and helped us to combine our voices on such an important health topic.

Here's what I have learned in the years that I have been writing this blog and working with PFMH: one person can create change. Don't ever fool yourself into believing that you can't make a difference. You can! OK, so how? Well, I am a believer that action toward change does not have to be big. It's the small things that we can each do in our every day. We can challenge our beliefs. We can challenge the beliefs of others. We can choose to listen rather than to judge or assume. And we can talk. Discussion about mental illness is the crucial piece of the puzzle. If someone opens up to you, treat that as a gift and hold it in high regard. Don't be dismissive. It takes a lot to be honest.

Are you looking for something more? A bigger way to influence change? Please check out Partners for Mental Health's Right By You campaign. My colleagues at PFMH will help you make a difference on this topic. Tell our fellow Canadians that death from mental illness is not right by you. It sure as hell isn't right by me.

And finally, before I go, I would like to share this PSA from the Canadian Alliance on Mental Illness and Mental Health which features my friend and PFMH colleague Aidan. Aidan is an outspoken advocate for youth mental health issues and has lived experience. I am incredibly thankful that he was able to weather the darkest of times to make it to adulthood. He is an inspiration to me and to many others. He is also living proof of why we need to support our youth.

KB xo

P.S. This post is dedicated to Casey who just keeps going, one foot in front of the other. I am so proud of you, my young friend. xo

"I Will Breathe"



It's too loud. Too loud. TOO. LOUD. Can't breathe. My heart is racing, racing, racing. I can't catch my breath. People - there are too many, too loud, too close. I can't breathe. Get away. I have to get away. Move. Quiet. Air. Tears pricking at my eyes. I must get away. I must be alone. I am alone. Nobody understands.

This is what an anxiety attack feels like for me. It's fresh in my mind because I had two this morning.

An anxiety attack can be debilitating and frustrating. It's frustrating because when I am in the grips of one it feels so illogical and irrational. Intellectually I tell myself to just take a deep breath and close my eyes. It's all fine. But then there's the illness - the part that is often loudest and that screams at me. Fight or flight takes hold and I can only focus on breaking free of the moment. Doing whatever it takes.

So what exactly sent me tumbling over the precipice of anxiety today? Was it public speaking? Nope - I love that sort of thing. It was noise and groups of people surrounding me.

The first small anxiety attack was brought on by a fire drill at work. It wasn't the drill itself, it was the amount of people, the small area, and the noise. I felt uncomfortable and my breathing became labored and shallow. Once I got outside in the fresh air I was OK.

Then there was the department meeting. Fifty people in a meeting room, broken into three groups and a people talking all at once. I began to feel uncomfortable again, not having been fully recovered from the earlier attack. By the end of the meeting I was eager to leave the room - my discomfort was rising but I was still OK. Then came the dreaded elevator ride.

There is always one or two people who will squeeze into the elevator just before the doors close. It's my worst nightmare. Too many people in too small of a space. Then add multiple loud conversations and I am a goner. All bets are off and the anxiety grabs me by my throat.

When I am in this moment of pain I may appear angry or upset. I am short with you if you speak to me. I might appear dismissive. I am simply not capable of social niceties. I can't act how you expect me to or how you want me to. I just can't and I don't have the luxury of time to explain to you in the moment why it's not about you. I'm in survival mode. I want to flee this space, this moment in time.

How can you help me? Allow me physical space and some time to catch my breath - literally. I need to be alone and quiet. I will be OK - this I know. And please don't think it's about you because it simply is not. So please, please don't be angry or annoyed or hurt. This isn't about you or even about me, really. It's about mental illness.

Tonight, as I write this, I am listening to calming, peaceful music. I spent the afternoon working from home, alone and in the recuperative stillness of quiet. I am tired - exhausted from the spinning merry go round. But I am also fine. Tomorrow is a new day and I will be fine then, too. Even if I am not - if depression or anxiety visit again, it will be OK. I will be OK. Because I don't, won't quit.

KB xo

P.S. If you would like to learn more about anxiety disorders please visit the Anxiety Disorders Association of Canada website

"Fairytales"



 

This August was the 17th anniversary of Princess Diana's death. I remember clearly where I was when I heard the news. I also remember the sheer shock and utter disbelief that I felt in that moment. How could something so horrible and tragic and so very real have happened to this princess?

It sent me into a depression that lasted a few weeks. I wanted to sit in front of the television and immerse myself in every detail and moment of mourning that was taking place all over the world. The thing was, I wasn't the only person who felt such a deep sense of loss for a person who I had never met. The world had made her into this larger than life being, this fairytale princess come to life.

Fast forward 17 years and I have come to understand that fairytales aren't real. As a child I idolized Princess Diana. I created scrapbook upon scrapbook, carefully cutting and pasting pictures of Diana in her latest ball gown or holding a cute little baby prince. I would often imagine what her life must be like, how lovely it must be. Oddly enough, even at such a young age, I believed that her marriage was not a love match. But surely the wealth and privilege must make her so very happy, right? Wrong.

As we now know she was riddled with insecurities. She experienced depression, anxiety and eating disorders. She lived many unhappy days and nights. Her life was certainly not a fairlytale. And this brings me to the late great Robin Williams. If you made the mistake of reading comments on social media you would have seen things like this: "But how could he have killed himself? He had so much - fame, fortune, and love. Such a waste."

And here is something else that I understand and recognize now as the truth: unhappiness, discontent, and insecurities are universal. Mental illness knows no boundaries and it does not discriminate. Are you a princess? A famous Hollywood star? So what. The black dog of depression can lay itself at your feet just as easily as it does at mine.

When I think about Princess Diana today I think about all the good that she did in the world and how she was able to persevere through her difficult times. She left us while still far too young but she also left a legacy to be proud of. She inspired many in this world.

Sadly, Robin Williams seemed unable to win his battle against his illness. I do not consider suicide a weakness or a slefish act as so many others do. I consider it an act taken by a human being who was in such devestating pain that he felt that was his only option. As someone who has experienced deep, dark pain I understand how that might feel and I am certainly not one to judge him - we cannot know exactly what he was feeling.

 

So no, I don't believe in fairytales. But that doesn't mean that I don't believe in magic, in love, and in wishing on stars. Without hope we have nothing. Without hope I don't believe that I would be sitting here writing this today. So each day I try to live my life completely and fully, to live my best life. And that is what I hope for you.

KB xo