A couple of months ago, I reached out to a few friends asking them to tell their stories and/or experiences dealing with mental health issues.
It is a big step for anyone to share and I am grateful they said yes. A few decided to stay anonymous (and that is okay). They are brave, loved, and appreciated. In honour of Mental Health Week (May 2-8, 2016) - I would like to share Jen's story. Dating with Anxiety 'Long, possibly a little ranty. If you take the time to read, please read until the end. Some of you who know me well know that I have issues with anxiety. You know that it's not just 'nerves before a big presentation' type anxiety, but a soul gripping, crushing anxiety. You know that I struggle with the weight of this reality (not my first choice of quirk) and if you don't, please know that it's not a judgement that I haven't shared this part of me with you yet. Maybe I felt you wouldn't understand, that I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship. If you don't know me that well, you may equate this to your 'normal' levels of anxiety. I am not overreacting, but my brain does overreact to nearly everything you might get 'normal' anxiety over. It tries to convince me you're laughing at me behind my back. That you're avoiding me, that you think I'm boring. Your presentation goes well, your anxiety vanishes. Mine is always there, in one form or another. You can distract it, and some things work better than others as a distraction. But it's never far away. A conversation was started today in my office regarding students and mental health. We discussed creating a dialogue to help our students feel like they're not alone. In a classroom of 20 people, it's likely at least 5 experience at least a constant low level of depression or anxiety, probably many more than that. We can't keep pretending we are all ok. There is power in numbers. We are hiding in plain sight, every day. One of the easiest ways for students to distract themselves is by using drugs or alcohol, which taxes an already over-stressed system. I'm not asking you to turn to a stranger on the bus and tell them your life story, but if you have anxiety, confide in someone you care about. The worst that could happen is that they could misunderstand or judge you (anxiety talking again) but if that is the case, if they don't at least make the effort to understand, they're not worthy recipients of the information you just shared with them.' After reading my post on Facebook, my dear friend Mavis asked me to write a piece for Mental Health week to post on her blog. I’m not currently in the grips of daily anxiety – it seems that the Facebook post actually helped me to move past that chapter of pain in my life, so this was more than a little difficult to come up with. I thankfully haven’t dealt with anxiety all of my life, just on and off for the majority of my adult life. I can still remember my first panic attack, if only because of the support I received at the time. A group of girlfriends and I were having dessert at Prairie Ink. The best way to describe it was that I suddenly felt everything at once. The chatter in the restaurant got louder. I felt a crushing heaviness in my chest, and my limbs felt numb. I needed to get away. Immediately. I remember going outside, it wasn’t the nicest night out, but I sat shivering on the sidewalk, relieved to have removed myself at least from the deafening roar of socializing strangers. I think it was actually Mavis who recognized the signs, and came out to be with me while I tried to calm down. Back then, panic attacks were something that happened very rarely, and did not occupy my daily thoughts. These days, things are very different. Chalk it up to experience(s)? As we age, we accumulate baggage that we all deal with differently, I try to keep mine well organized, but it has a way of cluttering up my life, in the face of, say, a breakup. This is when I find myself dealing with the daily wake-up call of panic attacks, followed by the constant buzz of ever present anxiety. Maybe it’s because of the way I tend to blame myself when another relationship bites the dust. Dating with anxiety is like traversing a minefield. No one wants to show all their cards at once, but only by being vulnerable do we allow others to see the real us, and only then can they decide if we are worth it. Doing this is difficult when you’re dealing with a relative stranger, but especially hard when one (or both, what fun!) of you has anxiety. My mental health is not something I’ve always been forthcoming about. There is a stigma attached to it, which is part of why I agreed to do this. I’m tired of being quiet. Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of. Imagine if we (society) tiptoed around someone having an asthma attack the way we marginalize someone having a panic attack? Every romantic relationship we venture into will either end in a breakup, or death do we part. Why hide a major part of who I am just to make someone who I barely know a little less uncomfortable? As a person with a mental illness, the beginning of a new relationship is one of those times where the background hum of anxiety can rise into the deafening crescendo of panic. Being up front about it can help, but if the person you’re getting to know has no previous panic attack or episodes of actual anxiety under their belt, you can be met with a weird look, and a “Yeah, I totally understand, I’m really nervous too!”. This is a big clue – they do not have any idea what is going on inside of you at that present moment. Imagine the scenario: You, someone with no previous mental health issues goes out on a date with Me, someone who is so nervous they could literally barf at any moment. You, upon giving me the welcome hug/handshake/whatever it is you do at the start of a date, feel immediately at ease. Me? I start my internal play-by-play dissection of the date. And hope that I don’t have to ask the kitchen for a paper bag at any point during the outing. Am I going to be ok? Can you see me sweating? Can you SMELL me sweating?!?! Am I being interesting enough? Witty enough? Did you catch that Simpsons reference? Do you even like the Simpsons? If we are at a pub, I’m trying not to drink like a fish. If we are at a restaurant, I’m trying to eat something, anything at all. You are probably sitting across from me, wondering why I’m fidgeting, why I keep looking at my lap, why my cheeks are still pink. Why I seemed so awesome while we were texting, or even chatting on the phone, now am suddenly quiet. How I managed to flirt with you at all over the course of the week we’ve been communicating. I am one of those people who is better on text, on chat, even marginally on the phone. A lot of us are, we are bolder when we don’t have to see someone cringe from across a tiny table. If we make it to a second date, it means you’re curious. OR maybe you really like awkward girls who swear like sailors. There is the rare time I’m not into a second date, and because I’m into being up-front, I’ll be nice enough to tell you so. I’m pretty good at vetting guys over our few days of pre-date texting, so if we meet in person, I already like you. The second date will be easier, if we go out to eat, I’ll actually be able to finish at least half my dinner. If we hang out at one of our houses, I might allow you to try to cuddle with me. But I won’t make the first move. If I like you, and am feeling open, this is where I’ll share a little about my experiences. It’s probably too early, I should maybe think about keeping quiet for a month or two, waiting until something is actually going on (anxiety wise) before telling you these things about myself. I see it kind of like a vetting tool, as much for me as it is for you. If you aren’t comfortable dating someone who struggles with mental health issues, continuing to fight, and win the battle with anxiety, we shouldn’t see each other anymore. Want to be friends? Sorry, I don’t need friends who can’t be accepting of something that is a part of me. I am not my illness, but I will have days where it looms heavy and foreboding above me, threatening to drag you down with it, which is why I tend to avoid people when I’m having an attack, even if I know they are supportive and have my back. If you are ok with it, you just scored a million brownie points, not only in my eyes, but the eyes of my family and friends. This is likely why I have a hard time letting go, even if you turn out to be a giant asshole. You took a chance on me, and now I have to find someone else who tries to empathize with my situation, that I’m also attracted to, and share similar interests with. Every time I have to go back to the dating scene (which, at 35, is a dead zone full of emotionally unavailable men with baggage that could sink the Titanic) I’m filled with dread at having to be vulnerable again. But I do it, because I want to find someone to love, and to love me unconditionally. And I know you’re out there, I just have to find you. Stop hiding, will you?
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A couple of months ago, I reached out to a few friends asking them to tell their stories and/or experiences dealing with mental health issues.
It is a big step for anyone to share and I am grateful they said yes. A few decided to stay anonymous (and that is okay). They are brave, loved, and appreciated. In honour of Mental Health Week (May 2-8, 2016) - I would like to share a third story. There was a time years ago, when mental health “issues” to me, came with a label or diagnosis such as Depression, Schizophrenia, or Bi-Polar. And, I thought the easiest way for people to receive the help they needed was perhaps through medications or supplements. I thought once things were “on track,” they would stay on track. That was until I started to see the struggle with mental illness among loved ones and friends. I quickly learned how vulnerable we all are to mental health issues and how important support is to those suffering. You can’t tell by looking at someone that they have a mental illness. I’ve had loved ones and friends of all walks of life and statuses struggle. And, I’ve met some of the most successful people in the world, who also struggle with mental health issues. It’s left me with the realization that no matter who you are and what you do, everyone can be touched by mental illness. Whether you’re the person going through it, or the loved one trying to help, it affects us all. Sadly, I don’t have a magic way to solve it all, but I do know sharing, talking and being there for someone struggling is vital. Offering an environment with no judgement or fear for that person to share can be the difference between a good day and a bad day, progress and regression, or life and death. Despite how difficult the struggle with mental health can be, I also know there is hope. I know some amazing people who have a mental illness who do amazing things in life. So no matter who you are or how you struggle, know you are not alone and that everything is going to be ok! A couple of months ago, I reached out to a few friends asking them to tell their stories and/or experiences dealing with mental health issues.
It is a big step for anyone to share and I am grateful they said yes. A few decided to stay anonymous (and that is okay). They are brave, loved, and appreciated. In honour of Mental Health Week (May 2-8, 2016) - I would like to share Jason's story. My experience living with anxiety (panic) disorder and more recently depression… It was the late 1990s when I started to feel overwhelmed, out of the blue, and would start getting the feeling that I needed to escape wherever I was, whether it was in a classroom, a bar, a movie theatre, etc. – it wasn’t just places that one could view as hard to escape. My heart would also start to pound and more often than not I’d get sweaty and disoriented, almost feeling like I was going to pass out. At one point I had not left the city for over 3 years because of the potential to have one of these episodes. After going to multiple physicians over a two-year period, it was at an appointment with a neurologist when what was happening became clearer. When the neurology resident came in to assess me she asked about all my symptoms and history around the issue, and when she came back she said ‘I think you’re experiencing panic attacks’. The diagnosis then was sent back to my GP and she suggested I try cognitive behaviour therapy (CBT) before trying any medication, to which I agreed. When I went to my first CBT group session I was surprised to be the only male in the group, and I was also the youngest person by 15-20 years. The sessions helped me realize that there were others suffering from panic attacks, and some of those in the group hadn’t left their house in over a year until coming to the group sessions. At the end of the final session, when going around the group and sharing what was helpful about the sessions, many said it helped them to know that a healthy, young male was also having the same experiences – that was me, but with the panic attacks I didn’t feel ‘healthy’ per se. However, this in itself made me realize that the CBT sessions were worth it, even if I didn’t find them extremely helpful, the fact that others benefited from my attendance was comforting. After the CBT sessions I was still suffering from panic attacks, sometimes 5+ in a day. That’s when my psychiatrist prescribed me Paxil (paroxetine) and told me there was nothing addictive about the medication. Well I may not have craved taking it everyday, but during one visit to Calgary I forgot my medication at home and within 2-3 days I started to feel like garbage – light headed, with almost flu-like symptoms. After figuring out what may be the cause, I took a Paxil that one of my family members had and within a couple of hours I started to feel better. Perhaps the medical definition of addiction wasn’t there, but I knew I couldn’t just stop taking Paxil cold turkey. I slowly increased my dosage of Paxil and was on it for 4 years. I went from having 5+ panic attacks a day, to having a couple attacks per week. It was almost like cognitive behaviour therapy to me as it helped me experience what it was like to not have multiple attacks every day. I did notice one major side effect was weight gain, which I wasn’t told about by my psychiatrist or pharmacist; in the four years I was on Paxil I gained 40 pounds (18 kilograms). The first time I went into my psychiatrists office after weening myself off of Paxil she said ‘sorry’, to which I asked her what for, and she said ‘I had no idea that the medication had that much of a weight gain side effect’. Before taking Paxil I was unable to gain any weight, despite being fairly active and going to the gym at least 3 times a week. My psychiatrist thought, at first, it was just a part of me maturing. I was not angry with my psychiatrist nor the drug itself as, like I said above, it helped me to learn what it’s like to live without multiple panic attacks every day. I continued to visit my psychiatrist a couple times per year even after I was off of Paxil as I found it helpful. During my time while on Paxil and after I continued to take precautions so that I would remain as much in control as possible; for example, I would always be the one who drove to social gatherings, whether to the movies, the pub, or the like. This way I could ‘escape’ if I needed to. In fact, and I’m not proud of this, I would even drive after consuming alcohol, which I knew wasn’t right, but it was the only way I could continue to seem ‘normal’ while entering various environments. For the first 4-5 years after being diagnosed with panic disorder I didn’t really talk to anyone about it, primarily because of the stigma around mental health issues, especially as it was the early 2000s. Looking back this caused a lot of stress and hindered personal relationships, in particular the girl I was dating at the time, as I would resist going to events where I didn’t know many people but never told her why. This eventually led to our breakup, and my realization that I needed to be more open about my condition and perhaps get back on another medication. Being more open about my diagnosis was liberating in a way, but the other benefit that I had was that many people would confide in me about their diagnosis, whether panic disorder, another anxiety disorder, depression, etc. as they didn’t feel comfortable talking with anyone about it, again as there is the stigma around mental health issues. Once people started to come to me to talk about mental health, it confirmed that I needed to continue to be open about my diagnosis and not hide behind it. As with a lot of things in life, I also deal with stress and anxiety with humour, so I find that making light of some issues, such as the need to drive all the time, helps people understand my condition better. The next medication that I was prescribed for my panic disorder was Effexor (venlafaxine). I felt like garbage when I first started taking it, something that my GP and pharmacist missed telling me may occur. However, once I got to the therapeutic dose I started to have a reduction in my panic attacks – the number of attacks weren’t as high as when I started taking Paxil, but they were increasing in frequency hence why I went on another medication. I was also prescribed Ativan (lorazepam) as a fast acting medication for when I felt a panic attack coming on. To be honest the first time I used Ativan I was about to get onto an airplane and was experiencing a bad panic attack, so I tossed the pill under my tongue; however, when I did that I started to panic even more as I had never taken it before and didn’t know how I would react to it. Needless to say it helped, and knocked me out for most of the 3-hour flight. However, the other times I have taken it, it hasn’t had the same impact (knocking me out) but would suggest anyone prescribed Ativan to take it before you need it to see how you react. I ended up taking Effexor for a couple of years, but once I started to have minimal panic attacks I started to wean myself off of it; it was the worst two weeks I had experienced in quite a long time. I felt like garbage, with the flu-like symptoms and disoriented, but fought through it. However, after about 6 months I started to get more panic attacks and needed to get back on another medication. My GP prescribed me Zoloft (sertraline). I tolerated it well, from the perspective of my panic disorder, but after awhile I started to see the weight gain come back like I experienced with Paxil. While my panic disorder was under control from the perspective of not having many panic attacks, it is always in the back of my mind that I could have one at any moment. This influences almost everything I do, from travel, to which events I attend, to which route I drive to get somewhere. I was also beginning to start having less interest in things I used to enjoy, such as going out with friends, whether to have some wings and beer, to a movie, or to a concert. My comfort zone was beginning to be my house, and would always think about when I could get back home when I was out of the house. It ended up that I had/have depression, and looking back over the previous couple of years from the time of diagnosis it’s clear that I was suffering from depression for a few years before the diagnosis; and here I thought I would’ve recognized the symptoms, especially in myself, but I didn’t. The depression has really affected my work and personal life, including being a big contributor, in my opinion, to a failed marriage… but that discussion is for a different time! Getting off Zoloft was fairly painless, but I only lasted a few weeks before needing something else, so I began taking Wellbutrin (bupropion). The added benefit to Wellbutrin is that for many it has a weight loss side effect! Recently I was getting frustrated that the fog of depression wasn’t lifting and wanted to try something like transcranial magnetic stimulation or even ketamine as I read about it being a breakthrough for some that didn’t find any relief from traditional means of trying to treat depression. My GP thought it was best that I try an adjunct medication to the Wellbutrin and then prescribed me Cipralex (escitalopram). I was skeptical of adding on another medication when already taking one, almost felt like a US drug company commercial, but my GP told me he had a few patients on the combination and found it was effective. So far after about a month on Cipralex I have felt, at times, like the fog is lifting a little – only time will tell if the combination actually works for me. If I could give some advice to anyone suffering from a mental illness, or multiple, or suspect you are suffering, I strongly encourage you to talk to someone about it, personal or professional, don’t feel like a failure at all – you wouldn’t react that way if you had cancer, and mental illness is just that, an illness. I see a psychologist once a month and find it helps me a lot. As well, what worked for one person in regard to taking medication and/or CBT doesn’t mean it’ll work the same way for the next person. As highlighted above, in my case, it’s an on going balance, one that I’ve been dealing with for 15+ years now. That being said, I am happy to chat with people about my experience, what I know personally, and where to reach out for help. Send me an electronic mail (jpp566@hotmail.com) if you want to chat! Cheers, Jason |
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