Never broken

I have an intensely visceral reaction to the word "broken" as it applies to people. It twists up my gut and tightens my throat. I find myself sitting hunched over, as though I'm fending off an attack.

I'm aware that my reaction is not ordinary. Nina talked about how broken can be beautiful. Sheena reminded us that perfection is boring, and that perfection is not synonymous with worth. I actually completely agree with Sheena's post. My reactions to the word itself are my own, and I'm aware they're a little… exaggerated.

I can't find a logical, outward rationale as to why the word bothers me so much. So I'm going to take my post to dive in deeper to the meaning of the word, as I see it. This is going to be more personal than many of my posts, since my reaction comes from my own prejudices, and my own flawed interpretation of self.

To me, broken means damaged. Broken means flawed. Broken means wrong.

Broken means you've lost something that you can never, ever get back.

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I want to make something very clear. On the scale of what everyone calls mental illness, what I have is extremely minor. I've struggled with depression and anxiety my entire life, and I did reach a point where I thought I would never, ever get better. I was so certain that I was destined to be depressed and anxious my whole life, and that what was wrong with me could never be fixed.

I place a good portion of the blame for my fears on the bizarre way that society views depression and anxiety. They tell us that anxiety and depression are Other. They tell us that we need to be fixed. This amazing blog post gives some examples of the warped portrayal of mental illness:

And when the screenwriters feel like tossing out a bone and allow a character an official diagnosis, the illness often becomes the character’s defining characteristic. Emma Pillsbury from “Glee” is diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), and aside from her red hair, that seems to be her only notable quality... Her relationship with Mr. Schuster is unhealthily dependent, and neither he nor she seems to be able to accept her for who she is, OCD and all, as evidenced by his serenading her with the Coldplay song “Fix You.”
The amount of crime shows and horror films wherein the antagonist is discovered or assumed to have a mental illness or to be simply (and incorrectly) “crazy” is astounding. There is a constant correlation of “bad” and the “other” with those mental illness. There is little talk of treatment, therapy or a personality outside of the disability.
And it is the extreme cases that are getting more of the lime light. This perpetuates misconceptions as well as the idea that help can only be afforded to those who are past the breaking point. Those misconceptions keep people from seeking treatment and support.

From another site:

Subtle stereotypes pervade the news regularly. Just the other day, a local news program in Central Florida reported on a woman setting her son’s dog on fire. The reporter ended the segment by stating that the woman had been depressed recently…
And these pictures can have a big influence on the public. Research has shown that many people get their information about mental illness from the mass media (Wahl, 2004). What they do see can color their perspective, leading them to fear, avoid and discriminate against individuals with mental illness.

Picture shared by kind permission of S.T. on Flicker
No changes made.

The weird thing is, depression and anxiety aren't this wacky condition that happens to a few "weak" individuals. One in five Americans will experience some form of mental illness in any give year. ONE IN FIVE. And up to one in four women will go through an episode of major depressive disorder in their lifetime (the rate is closer to 1 in 10 for men) Depression and anxiety aren't an affliction of the weak and lazy. They're something that so, so many of us struggle with. And yet we're made to feel that we are alone. That we are Other. There's just so much shame - so much, that only one-third of those suffering from anxiety get help.


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Without meaning to, I absorbed all of those viewpoints the media put forth. I must be stupid and weak, I thought, to not be able to overcome this. My life wasn't hard. And so I internalized the belief that being depressed meant something in me had broken, that I'd spun so far from the path of normalcy that I could never be fixed. The harder I tried to reject and move past my fears, the stronger they grew.

One of the most important parts of healing, for me, was realizing that my depression and anxiety are a part of me. In my case, they're defense mechanisms gone haywire. I'd somehow internalized the logic that if I thought bad things about myself, that nothing anyone else said could never hurt me. It's a weird sort of self-protection, and it was entirely unconscious.

Picture by kind permission of Eric Malette on Flicker
No changes made.

It's taken a lot of work, but in the past few years, I'm doing so much better than I did. Changing deeply held, unconscious beliefs doesn't happen quickly. But my goodness, it feels so much better to just accept that I'm this crazy emotional person who worries too much about trivial things and cries at the drop of the hat. There's nothing broken about that. It's just me. It's just how I am, and I'm not ashamed any more.

I hope all of you who are out there struggling can find your way. It's different for everyone; broken can be an insult for some, and a powerful talisman for others. Find your own way, but don't be afraid to ask for some help if you need it. It doesn't mean you're weak, I promise you that.

Always remember: we are not Other. We are not wrong. We are not flawed creatures that need repairing. True, our best intentions can become twisted and warped. But we are beautifully, uniquely human.

And none of us should be ashamed.

Look, a blog post!

I'm doing okay. Better. Not great yet, but I'm taking my medicine, exercising, writing, reading scriptures and awesome books, and eating brownies while I listen to music. I'm getting stronger, and I hope to get back to where I was before this bout of depression began.

This won't be a long post, because Pyromancy is behind schedule, and I've got some writing to do. But I recently read The Bitter Kingdom, which is the conclusion to The Girl Of Fire and Ice trilogy and I've got to talk about it. I love that series. The world building is brilliant, the plot constantly surprised me, and Elisa is one of the strongest characters I've ever read. She's a phenomenal leader, and so smart, and likable. It's a great, great book and a satisfying end to one of my favorite books ever, The Girl of Fire and Thorns.

Then I read a few sentences that changed this great book, into a favorite book. Maybe even a holy book, at least for me. A special book, that did what books are for, and taught me a lesson that made my life better.

Slight spoilers ahead.

"You look beautiful," Alodia says.
I startle at the compliment. Then I smile. "I'm beautiful to the one person who matters."
She nods. "Hector's mouth will drop open when he sees you."
"I hope so. But I meant me. I'm beautiful to me."

Those were the words I've needed to hear for a long time. Those were the words I've been looking for, and thank you Rae Carson for finding them and speaking them so simply so they could teach me.

Sometimes I read books, and I think, I can do better than that. Sometimes I read books, and I despair because I know no matter how hard I work I will never be able to craft a story that gorgeous or turn a sentence so beautiful. And then I read books, like The Bitter Kingdom, and I don't think about me at all. All I can think is to hold that mound of words and think...this is what I want to do. This is why I do this. This is why I keep trying and growing and reading and gosh, you darn book, thank you for existing.

When I read books like this one, I forget I'm a writer, and I'm just a reader, in love with a book.

Swim on, humans.
~Sheena

Not alone

I had plans for tonight's post, plans which got sidelined when I wandered across this post on Rachel Hartman's blog. After Sheena's lovely, brave post on Tuesday, I'd been thinking a lot about depression anyway. In any case, reading Rachel's blog And that lead me to this post from Libba Bray. I started to read, and then I started to cry.

Seriously, go read the post (unless you're in a sensitive spot - then, save it for later). This post is seriously so very, very important for everyone to read, for those of you who struggle with depression, and even more so for those of you who do not.

I don't like to talk about my personal struggles with depression and anxiety. They're really not that bad, not at the point where I'm "white-knuckling it," to borrow Libba Bray's phrase. My depression is more of the slow grind, the low-grade weight in the background that is pulling me down every day with the constant whisper of, "Why try? You've screwed up before, and you'll just do it again. There is no hope. There is nothing you can do."

I've been working a lot lately to find the right words for what depression is. It's still so firmly entrenched in my brain that my depression is a weakness, that if I were just stronger or cleverer that I would have thought my way out of this whole mess a long time ago. That if I were somehow a better person, that I wouldn't hurt so much every day.

But that's sort of like saying, "If only I had more lemons, I would be smarter at math!" The two things - innate quality of character and depression - are not in the least bit related. Depression is a chemical error in your brain. It's not quite a disease; if anything, it's closer to something like having a weak knee. Okay, so maybe that's a terrible metaphor too. The point I'm trying to make is that depression doesn't come because we're weak. And if depression makes you feel weak, it's just that you've likely been using all your strength to present that normal facade that society demands.

Libba Bray's post better articulates what I'm trying to convey:

If depression were as physically evident as, say, a broken limb or cancer, it would be easier to talk about. The pain could be marked, quantified, obvious to the observer. You would feel justified in saying, “I’m sorry that I haven’t returned your email but you can see the huge hole in the center of me, and I’m afraid it has made such dialogue impossible.” But the stigma of depression is that it comes with the sense that you shouldn’t have it to begin with. That it is self-indulgence or emotional incompetence rather than actual illness. This brings on attendant feelings of shame and self-loathing, which only exacerbate the pain, isolation, and hopelessness of the condition. “I cannot share this,” the depressed person thinks. “It is too embarrassing, too shameful.” And so, you swallow it down, until it feels that your heart is a trapped bird beating frantic wings against the pain you’ve shoved up against it.  Depression isn’t like being sad or blue or wistful. It is crippling. It is a constant whine in your head, making it hard to hear yourself think.

I'm not posting about my depression to get sympathy. I'm doing well. I'm learning how to fight back effectively, thanks to my awesome therapist. I'm posting this because there are so many others out there struggling with depression, who have that awful beliefs about self worth that I do, and who maybe are afraid to talk about it because of society's stupid bullcrap view that depression is indeed some sort condition created just to garner sympathy and attention.

So to all my fellow combatants of depression: fight on. Ask for help, if you need it. Offer help, if you can. And never, ever give up.

What To Do When Depression Finds You.

You suck, Depression. 

The thing about depression, in case you don't know ( but we blog for writers, so of course you know) is that some days it feels like there's a monster who wraps his tentacles around me and pulls me down the drain of a very deep pool. I call this deep ending. You're welcome to share my terminology.

READ A BOOK!

My choice this Deep End, was Howl's Moving Castle (Thanks Karen for the heads up on the price!) LINK!

I liked it fine. I'm deep ending so I'll have to reread it when my feet can reach bottom so I can really enjoy it, but all in all, it's good. I kept thinking Howl should be played by Benedict Cumberbatch one day. They both have an obnoxious slightly disdainful lovability to them, like they are a challenge, and a heartbreak waiting to happen, but maybe possibly they just need a strong willed young girl hiding behind a grown up's face to tame them. 

I volunteer as tribute.

EAT CANDY!

I have a 14 oz bag of skittles on my bed right now, and I've eaten most of it today. I've eaten so much candy that my mouth hurts, and I no longer enjoy the taste of sugar, but it's a thing I'm doing, and I have this theory that if I get to the bottom of the bag I won't be sad anymore. This is a crap theory, but I'm clinging to it. I'm deep ending people, don't judge me. The problem with having candy near me, is that it keeps bringing the little people who call me Mom near me, and I'm not sharing my candy with you people. I'm keeping it. All of it. It a sad swirling hole at the bottom of my stomach. It's here to make me feel sick. That's what it's there for so I can feel something. i.e. sick.

This is possibly steps away from a food disorder, but to my twisted brain, I wonder if I eat so much candy it makes me puke, then possibly the little people, or people in general, will buy that I'm actually sick, and therefore leave me alone.

Depression is a kind of sick.

But explain that to a three year-old with a stinky diaper.

TALKING TO PEOPLE!

It's my Birthday today. Yay. Yup, I'm spending the birthday in the deep end of depression. This isn't fun for these three reasons. 

• 1. People call you. Both my sisters have called me, and expected me to talk back with them, and I'm in the deep end, with my book and a half full bag of candy saying... not what I'm thinking, (go away) but... "Thank you for reaching out to me on my Birthday."

 It does make me feel loved. It does make me feel less like I'm drowning at the bottom of a pool, and more like I'm treading water with my sisters and my friends next to me, and maybe there are streamers hiding behind the candy, and there will be pizza and ice cream and cake, and you can't be sad when you are in a POOL PARTY!

The thing about depression is that, for me at least, it makes me want to keep everyone away. I want to be by myself, but at the same time, I want desperately to know that people love me. So I'm rude, but I want you to stay.

• 2. Expectations. I'm a weird twisted person and I take things as omens when they happen on my birthday, and that's weird, so I'm not doing that anymore, but this is not the way I wanted to spend the first day of my thirty first year. I'm having a hard time remembering that the deep end kind of days don't happen every day, and that I can fully function again, possibly, someday. When it's on my birthday I have this weird thought that it's going to follow me around all year long, like a curse. There is something wrong with my brain. 

• 3. I'm worried I'm being mean to my family by not showing up for my birthday, and by not show up, I mean hide in my room eating all the candy, reading my book by myself. I will walk downstairs when the pizza gets here. But until then, I'm sad and I feel guilty for not making MY birthday a bigger day for my kids, followed closely by being annoyed that it's MY Birthday, so I'll spend it however I'd like. Yes, it's my party, and I'll cry if I want to, Children.

YOUTUBE VIDEOS!

  Also, 

NOT TRYING TO FIX THE FORMATTING ON BLOG POSTS!

This video makes me giddy, and reaches deep down to the deep end of my depression to make me giggle.

They've gone for it. They are not holding back. And I really appreciate all this effort they are expelling on my day of doing nothing but reading and eating enough candy it makes me sick.

GOING TO THE DMV!

So you are deep ending in depression on your Birthday, and you kind feel you might throw up, because all you've eaten today was microwaved eggs and a 14 oz. bag of Skittles, and it's your BIRTHDAY?! You know what you REALLY need to do today? GO to the DMV to get that driver's licence of yours renewed! Otherwise you may never drive again, and that might be okay, because staying in a room and hiding sounds like a life plan today, and there is nothing in my life plan today that includes needing to drive, so SUCK IT DMV.

No, actually, that's the sickness talking, so instead, I'm going to track down my three year old, find the wipes, change the diaper. Then I'll load all three kids in my minivan, and drive to the DMV, and pay the fee and show them my birth certificate and smile at the camera. And then, every day after this one, I will look at that picture on my ID and see the film of skittles shining on my teeth, the tracks in my makeup, and my I-just-lay-in-bed-all-day-today hair, and will remember that I can do hard things, and that I am stronger than my poisoned brain.

But first I might check out Pintrest for a while.

Happy swimming, people.

~Sheena

Writers and Depression

It sounds like a scene from a movie. A woman has found a gate to a fantasy world, and her life there has gotten...complicated. Maybe she's the queen, or possibly an assassin caught up in a complicated political game. Lives depend on her. But back on Earth, her family needs her too. She's got responsibilities. But she's trying to keep too many balls in the air, and lately it isn't just the unimportant balls that are falling. In this scene, she has spent the entire day trying to catch up in the real world, and she misses something--her son's important soccer game perhaps. She is exhausted, and as she looks around at the mess her life has become, she completely falls apart. She can't imagine trying to keep things going for one more day. Sadly, this isn't a scene from a movie. Welcome to the dark side of being an author...

Although writers tend to suffer from depression more than the general population, the idea that it can help their writing is a myth. In her article The Writer and Depression, Elizabether Moon writes, 

"I can guarantee that depression beyond the very mildest level (which makes you just miserable enough to stay home and finish the book rather than go out and have fun) destroys creativity--and that treating depression enhances it. Why? Well, depression doesn't just make you miserable. When you're depressed, you have no energy--and writing books takes hard work, which takes energy. When you're depressed, you find it hard to start new things (like books, chapters, the day's work), and hard to make decisions (like which book, or which character, or even which way Albert will turn when he leaves the throne room...) When you're depressed, everything seems futile--you are sure the book will be lousy even if you do write it. When you're depressed, you have less courage, less resilience, less ability to handle ordinary stressors. So...you can't summon the energy or the courage to write...every little comment throws you back into your misery...and the next thing you know you're in the midst of a full-fledged writer's block."

Have you seen this blog post from Hyperbole and a Half? (This link contains language I usually try to avoid, but sometimes can't. You have been warned.) It came out about a year ago, and I've never seen a more amazing description of the way depression can make you feel, and luckily it has a very hopeful, happy ending. However THIS is not the kind of depression I'm talking about today though. If depression is destroying your life, get professional help immediately, even if it takes more effort than you thought you could muster.

  

I've been struggling with a mild depression for a couple of months now. It was brought on by some health issues and some changes (not bad ones. Just changes) in my life. Today, I thought I would share some of the things that make it better.

• Do something kind. It is almost hilarious how good it makes me feel to let a car turn into my lane when I'm driving. Or when I sneak a treat into my kid's lunchboxes. It doesn't have to be something big to get the reward, just something kind.

• Make a list. When I come up for air after diving deep into a story idea, (or really just about any time lately) real life seems to hit me hard and fast. I can go to bed at night feeling like I am working as hard as I can and am still falling behind. Forcing myself to make a list every day shouldn't be as hard as it is, because those lists of things I need to do are like gold. They keep me from forgetting important things and feeling like a loser, and they serve as a reminder of just how crazy life really is.

• Finish a (non writing) project. Just today, my husband and I put together some shelves and filled them with stuff that has needed a home for months. Sometimes when I'm having a rough time, I struggle just to get the things done that HAVE to get done. I promise you that forgetting the kitchen dishes and getting a real project done can change your whole outlook.

• Exercise Also today, my husband and I went hiking. It's been a long, long time since I did any exercise beyond my daily saunter around the neighborhood. I'd forgotten how awesome it feels to get out of breath.

• Reevaluate what your "minimum" is. Everyone has a minimum standard of living. It means how messy you'll let your house get before it NEEDS to be cleaned, how healthy your food is, how clean your garage is...Maybe your minimum is set impossibly high, and you need to figure out what things you can live without doing. Or maybe you've let your minimum sink to a level that is adding to your distress. Figure out what you need to do better. Simplify in one area so you can spend more time in another. There's a counter in my house that HAS to be clean, or I feel like a failure. Other things can fall apart, but if that counter is clean, all is right in my world. Another thing that can make me feel like a failure is having to move something in order to set something else down...If I have to move the laundry in order to set the groceries on the table, watch out.

• Get outside. I love to hike. I also love to sit and watch water in almost any of its forms. Spending time outdoors, and getting enough sunlight is a luxury too many writers forgo.

• Stop and watch the people who are the most important to you. Sheena wrote this not long ago, and it has become my new mantra: "I think the problem comes not when life gets in the way of writing, I think the problem comes when we let writing get in the way of our life. Life comes first. Life is the meal, writing is dessert."

• Pray. The privilege to pray is a blessing I can't even fathom. What author in their right mind would create a religion with a God so kind that he would listen to (and comfort) an average person repeating the words, "I'm tired. I'm just so tired..." over and over and over again? It wouldn't be believable, and yet it is true. It happened yesterday.

How do you help yourself when you are feeling depressed?
*Edited to add: If you are reading this for the first time, check the comments. There are some great suggestions there.

What I'm listening to: The Lord of the Rings
What I'm reading: (on my new Kindle!) Screwing Up Time :)