The Black Dog Bites

Disclaimer - This post talks about suicide. (Not mine, not anyone currently close to me, so don't worry.) If you don't like this topic, please feel free to move on to the next blog/post/website/whatever. My aim is not to upset anyone, but please consider that the more we talk about it, the more we can help to prevent it.

As you know, I've written about depression many times. It's something I have an intimate connection with in a number of ways.
And throughout my life, I've also had a too-close connection with the side of depression that is final. Suicide. Sometimes it seems like a dirty word. But I'd like to write about it today. I've been thinking about it for a few days, wondering if I should mention it at all, but I decided that it's our hesitation to talk about suicide that makes it harder for people to get help, harder for the people that know about these things to find out what makes someone take their own life.

This all started when a blog that I drop in on from time to time took a serious turn. This blogger's husband, after a psychotic event, tragically took his own life. She has been documenting her struggle to make sense of it and carry on through her blog. I hope she doesn't mind me mentioning it.

Of course, with the web being the public entity that it is, there has been some backlash. People making comments about what's appropriate to post in a blog, etc.
I'm not going to comment on that side of things, except that I know how much writing helped me after losing Sam. I'm sure it's the same for her.

What I'd like to do is just to talk about it. I can't help but thinking that, like depression, the more we talk about it, the more people will realise they can get help, and more importantly, that's it's OK to talk about it, and to get help.

It's something that, sadly, is probably common to many people, but I have known a few people whose lives were prematurely cut short by suicide.

I was 17 when I first lost someone. I hadn't known him long, but we had started to develop a friendship and I had spoken to him only days before he took his own life. It was an aspect of life that I had never experienced or even heard much about. Which maybe is part of the problem. Yes, this was 20 years ago, and things were a little different. These days, there is more information available, and more people willing to help those who are considering suicide.

A couple of years later, my (then) boyfriend's best friend overdosed. I'd only met him once, but again, I saw the darker side of life.

Then, I heard that a friend that I'd known for a long time (and had even been intimate with), had killed himself. This time with a gun. Why hadn't he talked to someone? I'd lost touch with him over the years, and wished I'd been there for him. But he had a loving family that he'd left behind, and I'm sure they were there for him. I just couldn't understand why he'd done it.

Recently, someone close to my family also committed suicide. He'd had some issues with access to his child and was probably depressed, but again, it was unexpected and shook everyone that knew him.

I've always wondered what it would take to push someone over the edge like that. To make them think that there was no other option than to leave the world all together. I know what it's like to feel depressed, like nothing matters, and I guess it's not a big jump from there. I'm lucky that I have a wonderful family and good friends and this blog, to keep me focused on what's positive, what's worth living for.

But people that commit suicide have that too. Sometimes, they have the most wonderful, supportive family and friends (like my fellow blogger's husband). I guess no one can ever really know what's going on in their head, because we can't ask them.

But I truly think that it helps to talk. So all I'm asking is that we keep the conversation happening. These days, there are many services to help those in need, and more information about how to help our family and friends. If we talk about it, research it, reach out to people that are depressed or in pain, then maybe we can start to prevent it from happening.

http://www.suicideprevention.com.au/

I've edited this because after talking to my parents about this post, I had to add that I'm glad I put this topic out there. To hear about distant family members who aren't talked about (or at least their deaths aren't) because they died in a way that's embarrassing, not talked about. This is what I mean.

When someone dies, we're all sad and grieve together and talk about it, but when they kill themselves, it's something we can't talk about. It's whispered. It's ignored. I know that when someone dies that way, they leave a world of unanswered questions. Of guilt, trauma and disbelief. But it happens. And we've got to acknowledge that, and find ways for it not to happen.

The simple things...

Today I walked up a mountain.

No, it wasn't a metaphorical mountain that I needed to climb to conquer my depression, it was, literally, a mountain. Mount Franklin to be precise.

We had a lovely day actually. We packed a picnic lunch and headed up the muddy (and sometimes snowy and slippery) dirt road into the Brindabella Ranges. The last time we went up that road was around this time last year, when the four of us went and had a lovely day at the snow:
It was one of the last big things we did as a family, which I guess is why it's stuck in our minds. Oliver remembered the road, and the places that we pulled over to check out the snow. We had a couple of sad moments along the way, as the memories hit. Especially Anthony, who'd taken the boys up to the Brindabellas (but a different part) one day while I was busy writing reports.

For a little while, we were the only people at the Mount Franklin Chalet, which was very nice. It was so quiet and peaceful, and there was just enough snow to have a bit of a snowball fight and build a snowman.

Then Oliver decided he wanted to walk to the summit. Which was only about 1.5km away, but up a steep (in places) hill covered in snow, so needless to say it was hard going, especially for super unfit me. I did vow though, once I'd reached the top, to come back at the same time next year and go up twice as fast! Hopefully I can do that!

The view at the top was definitely worth it, with lovely clouds rolling in and (behind them) a view for miles and miles...
We're so lucky in Canberra to have this beautiful scenery all around us. I can see these mountains from my front door, and it's always very nice to go up there. It's also nice to know there is a place where there's snow, but not lots of people (and ski bunnies, who are not real people as far as I can see!). Then we have Sydney within 3 hours drive, the coast in about 1.5 hours, and many other lovely places in between. At the same time getting to live in this beautiful city.

So all in all, it's been a great week. I've done a little bit of work (not too much though folks, don't worry!); I've been bike riding with Ollie out at the whiz-bang new Stromlo Forest Park;
We went and saw Toy Story 3, which was lovely (I love Pixar movies); I spent a day playing with Photoshop and getting our tax paperwork organised (I can cross off number 16 on my list! yay!!); And then I spent a lovely day yesterday just doing stuff I wanted to do, by myself: taking photos by the lake, going to a photographic exhibition (which made me feel very good about my skills - on par (or better?) than many of the photos displayed), going shopping in the city, all of which was topped off by a great dinner out with Anthony and a DVD snuggled up on the couch (thanks Mum and Dad for having Ollie!)

I guess these kinds of things are helping me with this depression stuff (as well as the drugs), and I hope I can keep them up, because I feel pretty good at the moment.

Well, back tomorrow with my photos.

Mental Health Update

It's been 2 and a half weeks since I started taking drugs for the depression. So I thought I'd update.

Although I was fairly resistant to taking at first, I can feel that they are helping. I have more energy (I have actually done some exercise every day this week), I am doing things (I have even crossed one or two things off my list), I cleaned up a bit (shock! horror!), and can smile a bit again.

There's a long way to go, but I guess the doc made the right decision. I'd like to keep talking about it with you, as I think it's important. But not now, I'm going to go and have a nice day with my little family; driving up into the mountains for a picnic.

Oh wow. So complicated...

And yet, so not complicated.

Thanks for your comments everyone. I know it's my decision to make in the end, but it has been really great to have other people's ideas and perspectives to consider. Sometimes you're just so close to a situation that you can't see it clearly. The comment section was getting quite long though, so I thought I'd respond in a new post.

Lorraine, you make some very sensible and valid points, just like my dad. I think he'd like you! My whole life, Dad has been my 'sensible'. He is always the one who can see the potential hazards or problems. That's not to say that he isn't supportive, because he (and mum, who is also very sensible but lets dad do all the voicing of the concerns!) is. Very supportive. They are very good about letting me make my own decisions though, and have always been there to help when things go wrong. I don't know what I'd do without their support and help (although hopefully I don't have to ask for that very often, and especially not this time. They have enough to worry about!). Thanks, lovely parents!

I like to think that I'm already a fairly organised mum. And a couple of the things Lorraine suggested are things I do already; like freezing meals and not ironing (or cleaning often!).
I can't get a cleaner yet as my household is so strange and crazy that I couldn't afford what they'd charge! However, when all our renos are done, I think it's something that I will definitely do! I've been saying that for years.
I like the idea of online shopping too. Must try it!

And Lorraine (and dad) are right. I don't need to be worrying about money now. That thought has been playing and playing on my mind. It's the only thing that's been stopping me from making a definite decision to cut back. To make matters even more complicated, now Anthony's going the other way: 'do it; it's only for 6 months; I've got work in the shed waiting' etc etc, which makes it even worse!

Of course, we've been much worse off in the past. As Deb said, when I was at uni, Anthony supported us and things were very tight. This made things tense at times, but we managed. What I'm thinking about doing now won't be anything like those times. And honestly, I care a lot less about having lots of money than I used to. My priorities have changed so much. Of course, we need it to prevent us ending up on the street, but I have no desire to compromise my health and happiness (or anyone else's) just to make more money.

Apart from the money, what it comes down to is this. At the moment, given my state of mind, I worry about my capacity do the job well. I'm running low on leave days, and if this past term is anything to go by, there are still going to be times when I can't face work; where I need a day (or two or three) off. Do I take my chances with that or act in anticipation of it? The question is rhetorical of course, because I can't know what's ahead. But what I do know is that teaching isn't the kind of job that allows for too many mistakes; too much instability. Who knows how long it will take me to get my head together? Hopefully not years. But it has only been six months. Is it too much to ask that I take a year at least to get my head around this? To work out who I actually am without Sam? Nobody that hasn't been through this can know the answer. Actually, I don't think anyone can know. We're all built so differently. This is just what I need.

But I must also say, Lorraine also makes a very valid point about the potential to be sitting around doing nothing. It's very possible. There have been many times that I have got to the end of the weekend or the end of the holidays and thought "is it really possible that I've done nothing at all?".

Some of that is recharging: I (we - teachers) get so tired and drained by the end of the term, it often takes a week to recover.
Some of it is also laziness. I do like doing nothing sometimes. But then again, I don't know if lazy is the right word. I don't know why we feel so guilty about relaxing. About sitting down and reading a book, or watching a good movie. Or knitting. I don't see why I should have to wait until retirement to do the things I enjoy.

But taking a day off a week to relax is not really what I had in mind. And hopefully that's not the way I would go. I must say I've done a bit of it this past week, but I've been in a bit of a slump (and adjusting to this medication). I have been doing too much thinking to be productive. But at the same time, I've also seen that side of depression - the sitting-around-doing-nothing side. And it was pretty scary. I don't mind saying that's where I was headed too. Luckily, I made the right choice to go and see my doctor, and I think he's got to me in time.

I do have plans. Things I would do in the time Oli is at school. And quite frankly I'm sick of making plans that I'm too scared or too busy to act on. I've got an idea for a children's book that I've been mulling over for a while; I've got a garden that could be a good little money maker with a bit of work (or at least make us more self-sufficient and save us a lot of money on food); I'd like to investigate photography a bit more, maybe try and sell some photos; I've got an idea for an educational web-based resource; etc etc. I am aware of the danger of putting too much stock in these things; that they may be just 'get rich quick' schemes. But how do you ever know if you don't try?

Yes, I've definitely got things that I can be doing. Productive things. Things that might give me an idea of what I want for the future. Things that might help me find myself again. Things that will make me feel like I'm living; following my intuition, my dreams.

So I guess what this means is that I've made my decision. It's scary, and it's a bit of a risk and it's probably not going to be popular with everyone, but in the end it's mine to make.

Now I just have to make it happen. That could be the hard part.

Midlife Crisis

You're perfect, yes it's true.
But without me you're only you...
Faith No More - Midlife Crisis

Is it possible to have one at 36?
Don't worry readers, I'm not about to go out and buy a ferrari or find myself a toyboy!

Now I know you're all saying, she's had this traumatic experience, she's depressed, she's not herself...and you may well be right. But I wonder if I'm thinking differently because of these things, or if I would have come to these conclusions eventually anyway.

Please bear with me (or not - your choice as always), as I think out loud.

Of course nothing's ever simple with me; not lately anyway. I have some thoughts that run over and over in my mind, and then others that pop in and out that seem to contradict each other. It's very confusing sometimes, and probably not helped by the drugs I'm now taking. I can't make any sense of things by talking either, because of my general inability to express myself verbally.

Let me explain (because by writing it all down; and maybe even getting some other people's perspectives - I'm sure Anthony's sick of me babbling - I might be able to make some sense of it):

The one, overriding thought I have at the moment; and I don't think it's been brought on by the drugs or the depression, because I've had it for a while; is that I just don't know who I am any more. It's not that I have amnesia or anything, it's just that the things I want and the way I want to operate have changed. I know I'm still a mum, and a partner, and a daughter, and a sister, but I feel like I've changed, but don't know how I've changed. My opinions and values seem to have shifted, that's for sure!

Prior to Sam's death, I was probably a workaholic (I think I even thought of myself like that afterwards too, as this post seems to be saying). At the very least I was one of those people who spent far too much time working or thinking about work.
And it was OK. I justified it in any number of ways and, I thought, was feeling OK about it all. After all, I was still in the early stages of my career, and getting my head around everything. Of course, when I was still working hard well into my 4th year, I guess I knew it was more than working the job out.

But now, I don't want to be that person. I do like teaching, and I do like working, but all I want to do is be here for Ollie. I want to be able to walk him to school every now and then, or go to his assemblies. I want to have enough energy at the end of the week to be able to go for a bike ride, kick a soccer ball around, watch a movie with him without falling asleep. They grow so quickly, and I've only got one now. It's so hard to know I'm not there for him.
Of course, Anthony is here for him, and he is very lucky to have his dad here, I've always said that. But I want to be here for some of it too!
When I said this to my parents yesterday, they spoke of leaving me at day care and crying all the way to work. I'm sure this is pretty normal for all parents when they leave their kids in care, and certainly I already felt that way. But now, it's stronger. Maybe because I've lost one child already, and I want to hang on desperately to the only one I have left. To experience every moment.

Of course I realise that there aren't many jobs that pay well that also allow you these things. And that's part of the frustration. I do actually like teaching sometimes too! I love the relationships you develop with people; I love that you can do different things every day; I love the constant learning that's involved. But sometimes it doesn't seem worth the effort and emotional investment. Especially when you're trading off your family to do it.

To tell you the truth, as much as I didn't want to take the whole week off, I'm glad I did. It's not like I've done much, but it has been nice to be here not doing much. I've loved being here every morning and every afternoon to see Oliver.

So it comes down to this. What I keep coming back to; what I really think I would like, is to just work 4 days a week until the end of the year. It started as just a little thought, but now it is almost all-consuming. I think it's also a bit of a compromise for my crazed mind, because sometimes all I want to to is run and keep running! Go somewhere that there are no reminders, no stresses. I know that place doesn't really exist, so I've gone for a compromise aimed at saving my sanity. I keep weighing up the pros and cons, and it's about even, so I don't know where to go. Maybe you can help me?

Pros

• More time with Ollie.
• I can make an appearance at Ollie's school once a week.
• I can have some time to myself to work things out in my head (without Ollie/weekend stuff happening around me).
• I can try some other things (like maybe doing some writing - a book?, photography etc).

Cons

• We would be around $350-$400 worse off per fortnight (would not affect mortgage, bills too much, but would mean some belt-tightening).
• It *may* hurt my career options in teaching (although I don't really believe that, as I do have a fairly good name in the profession anyway, and it is only one semester).
  
• The school would be inconvenienced.

Y'see, to me, the main reason not to do it is financial. And the way that I'm thinking now, and have been for a long time, is that that's not a good enough reason. It is a problem, I guess, because we do have a mortgage etc (and my stupid HECS bill - if only I didn't have that we'd be all right!), but if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that family (and I'm starting to think, my sanity) is more important than financial concerns. Anthony has said that we'd manage if we had to, but I don't want to put him through too much belt-tightening if it's unnecessary for other reasons!

Can you see my dilemma? Of course, it is possible that this is all because I'm looking at the world through a different lens, and some of you might be able to help me see reason one way or another. Maybe you could add to my pros and cons list. All I know is that if I keep running it all around in my head, I'll go even more crazy!

The Black Dog Barks

It's official. I am depressed.

Thankfully, it's a reactive form of depression, brought on by recent events (and some would argue, my crazy compulsion to look after everyone else but myself).
The doctor has given me some medication and told me to take the rest of the week off. Both suggestions troubled me initially: firstly, I am always hesitant to take any kind of drugs, and secondly, because I was concerned that time off might cause people to see me as unreliable (yes dad, I do take in the things you say!).

After some thought though, and a conversation with my sensible, experienced and wonderful best friend, I decided to follow the doctor's advice. He is a doctor after all!

So I'll be taking anti-depressants for the next few months, and will hopefully get my mojo back.
As for work, as Sally said, until this catastrophic event exploded into my life, my actions and achievements spoke for themselves (I know I'm going to have to keep reminding myself of these, as that terrible 'teacher guilt' creeps in). I was (am) a well-liked, highly skilled, respected, prize-winning (fully funded places in 2 separate conferences in two years), published (my maths unit on a national teaching website), interviewed (for the national union's magazine) teacher who has just hit a bump in the road. Those are the things that I will keep telling myself are important, not my current rate of absences. When I really think about it, I do love teaching, it's just that my judgement is clouded.

But the main thing is (once again I can credit Sally for this) that I have to look after myself. I have been busy looking after everyone else and have neglected myself. If I don't slow down, there will be an even bigger crash.

A new low?

Monday was a low moment for me. Thanks to those of you who left comments or contacted me in other ways, I really do appreciate your support.

I ummed and ahhed about posting about depression. I knew that it could possibly worry some of those close to me (I'm sorry if it did), because (as I have mentioned) depression has been an issue in our family before.

But as I said in the previous post, I did set out to document this grief process, and I would be doing myself (and any readers who still hang around) a disservice if I skipped bits that might be controversial or worrying.

The other reason I wrote about it is because depression is still such a taboo subject. I think it's important for us to talk about.

Depression is so much more common than we realise. Beyond Blue's website says that 'around one million Australian adults and 100,000 young people live with depression each year.' and that 'On average, one in five people will experience depression in their lifetime.' That's a lot of people for us not to be talking about it!

When Anthony was diagnosed with depression, I found it really difficult to talk to people about it, mainly because they felt uncomfortable with it I guess, but also because they didn't know much about it. I did a fair bit of reading about it, and although it was a very trying and difficult time, I was able to support him through it.

So I wanted to put it out there. I'm not sure whether I actually am depressed or was just feeling down in the dumps on Monday, but I'm glad I posted it. Now we can start the discussion. Feel free to add your comments or experiences (although I realise that not all of us are as comfortable (?) in sharing our personal thoughts as I am!)

(By the way, I am feeling more chipper than Monday (although I will still visit the doctor), so stay tuned for some more upbeat stuff.)

The Black Dog

I have a very long and intimate connection with depression.
And that's why I know I'm possibly on the way there...

After Samuel was born, I suffered from Post-natal depression. It wasn't severe, and I recovered quickly (it wasn't even until afterward that I knew what it was).

A bit later on (but before Oliver) I had proper, diagnosed depression, but once again, it wasn't too serious. I was never medicated or anything, just made aware of it.

Then, just last year, a counsellor told me I had 'depletion depression' - that is, depression caused by being a 'super mum' and being all things to all people.

And then of course, there's Anthony's depression. Not something I'm particularly interested in rehashing here, but back in 2006 we went through a pretty rough time when he had a fairly serious breakdown.

So I guess you could say that I'm familiar with depression, and all that comes along with it. I know how it feels, and I know how hard it is to live with.

So when I started feeling sad, worthless, listless, hopeless...(etc) I knew that I'd probably be better off paying attention to my mental health.

So I'll go and see a doctor this week. Don't worry readers (especially you mum and dad!), I'm aware of it, so that's gotta mean something, doesn't it?? This is, after all, an honest representation of my life (and my grief journey), so I do need to be honest, don't I??

xx