I want to thank Melissa Churly for writing about me which became the cover story. The piece was well written and well researched. I think Melissa came to understand depression and its impact on people. She knew her topic.
I also thank Bill MacPhee and the staff at Anchor for putting me on the cover. It's a great magazine, well needed so people, those with and those without depression, will learn about the illness.
Check it out at www.anchormag.ca
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
CMHA National Conference
As I mentioned previously, the Canadian Mental Health Association National Conference is being held in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia on August 22-23, 2008.
The title of this year's Conference is Making Waves for Change: From Surviving to Thriving.
I will be presenting a workshop along with Fred Armitage. We are scheduled for the afternoon of Saturday, August 23, 2008, from 3:20 to 4:50. I know Mr. Armitage is a Halifax Regional Municipality police officer who has had depression.
The CMHA has posted more details on its website ( http://www.novascotia.cmha.ca/ ).
The title of this year's Conference is Making Waves for Change: From Surviving to Thriving.
I will be presenting a workshop along with Fred Armitage. We are scheduled for the afternoon of Saturday, August 23, 2008, from 3:20 to 4:50. I know Mr. Armitage is a Halifax Regional Municipality police officer who has had depression.
The CMHA has posted more details on its website ( http://www.novascotia.cmha.ca/ ).
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Current Events
I thought it may be time to mention some more recent events.
In January, 2008, I wrote a first person account of my life with depression for the National Post newspaper. It appeared in the paper on February 20. It was part of a series called Leaps and Rebounds. The title of my article was called " How I returned to a life worth living." I think it's a great title ( it was chosen by the National Post people ), it really sums up what I wrote. However, it is no longer available online.
I know that if I can write about my depression and have it published, I must be well.
My article was well received by the Canadian Mental Health Association. As a result, I was asked by Carol Tooton, Executive Director, CMHA in Nova Scotia , to participate in a workshop at the CMHA National Conference to be held in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, on August 22-23, 2008. For more information check out http://www.novascotia.cmha.ca/
As well, I was interviewed by Melissa Churly for an article in the up coming summer issue of Anchor Magazine ( http://www.anchormag.ca/ ).
I also was in contact with Daniel Lukasik , a lawyer in Buffalo, New York, who has suffered with depression. He has started a website , http://www.lawyerswithdepression.com/, for which he has received positive recognition. The American Bar Association profiled the site and the work it accomplishes to identify depression in the legal community. The site was also honoured by the New York State Bar Association. The site is well presented in looking at depression and lawyers, and combats the stigma of depression.
So, depression is certainly out there. But so are people willing to publicly discuss it.
It's been over five years since my depression took hold almost taking away my life. But now, my life has taken a positive track, and it feels real good. But, it should be noted, as I have mentioned before, I wanted to get a life worth living. It was on my initiative that I contacted the National Post with a suggestion to write an article; I emailed the article to the CMHA; I found Dan's website and made the first contact. So, one has to make one's own opportunities. I used to do that years ago, and now, here I am doing it again and the events unfolding as a result are positive. But I had to have sufficent self confidence to reach out with my ideas and contact other people, in case the response wasn't so good. Getting to that level of confidence took years of work, by many people.
I am beginning to surface in public now.
In January, 2008, I wrote a first person account of my life with depression for the National Post newspaper. It appeared in the paper on February 20. It was part of a series called Leaps and Rebounds. The title of my article was called " How I returned to a life worth living." I think it's a great title ( it was chosen by the National Post people ), it really sums up what I wrote. However, it is no longer available online.
I know that if I can write about my depression and have it published, I must be well.
My article was well received by the Canadian Mental Health Association. As a result, I was asked by Carol Tooton, Executive Director, CMHA in Nova Scotia , to participate in a workshop at the CMHA National Conference to be held in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, on August 22-23, 2008. For more information check out http://www.novascotia.cmha.ca/
As well, I was interviewed by Melissa Churly for an article in the up coming summer issue of Anchor Magazine ( http://www.anchormag.ca/ ).
I also was in contact with Daniel Lukasik , a lawyer in Buffalo, New York, who has suffered with depression. He has started a website , http://www.lawyerswithdepression.com/, for which he has received positive recognition. The American Bar Association profiled the site and the work it accomplishes to identify depression in the legal community. The site was also honoured by the New York State Bar Association. The site is well presented in looking at depression and lawyers, and combats the stigma of depression.
So, depression is certainly out there. But so are people willing to publicly discuss it.
It's been over five years since my depression took hold almost taking away my life. But now, my life has taken a positive track, and it feels real good. But, it should be noted, as I have mentioned before, I wanted to get a life worth living. It was on my initiative that I contacted the National Post with a suggestion to write an article; I emailed the article to the CMHA; I found Dan's website and made the first contact. So, one has to make one's own opportunities. I used to do that years ago, and now, here I am doing it again and the events unfolding as a result are positive. But I had to have sufficent self confidence to reach out with my ideas and contact other people, in case the response wasn't so good. Getting to that level of confidence took years of work, by many people.
I am beginning to surface in public now.
Even the Youngest Ones Understood
My family provided the best of support. Once I was diagnosed with depression, we all learned in time what steps were necessary for me to get well. It took our wanting to understand what depression is and its impact on my life.
Even the youngest members of my family, my teen aged ( at the time ) niece and nephew came to understand the illness and how to help me. Two instances come to my mind when I think back over the last few years.
Once I started driving again, at times I used to drop off and pick up my nephew at his summer job. One night, his shift finished at midnight, I was there to get him. Even though I was staying at his house, a few days had gone by when we hadn't seen much of each other. As we drove, he asked " So, Keith, how are you doing?". He was truly concerned and wanted to know more then just a response of "good" from me. I told him I was starting to feel well, that a lot had happened in my life, but that I thought my life would get better, with the passage of time, my doctor's help, and especially with family support. I thanked him for his help. His response was simple but spoke volumes, " Well, that's what families do."
My niece gave me a New Yorker Magazine journal for Christmas in 2003. Now, she always has to make a comment that makes the moment. In the journal she wrote " To help keep your thoughts together on the road to sanity. I love you, and I am proud of you."
So, from the minds and hearts of my niece and nephew. They were concerned for me, for my health, and had come to understand depression.
My depression was in the open for all to see. But, the people who came to see it were those who wanted to see it.
Even the youngest members of my family, my teen aged ( at the time ) niece and nephew came to understand the illness and how to help me. Two instances come to my mind when I think back over the last few years.
Once I started driving again, at times I used to drop off and pick up my nephew at his summer job. One night, his shift finished at midnight, I was there to get him. Even though I was staying at his house, a few days had gone by when we hadn't seen much of each other. As we drove, he asked " So, Keith, how are you doing?". He was truly concerned and wanted to know more then just a response of "good" from me. I told him I was starting to feel well, that a lot had happened in my life, but that I thought my life would get better, with the passage of time, my doctor's help, and especially with family support. I thanked him for his help. His response was simple but spoke volumes, " Well, that's what families do."
My niece gave me a New Yorker Magazine journal for Christmas in 2003. Now, she always has to make a comment that makes the moment. In the journal she wrote " To help keep your thoughts together on the road to sanity. I love you, and I am proud of you."
So, from the minds and hearts of my niece and nephew. They were concerned for me, for my health, and had come to understand depression.
My depression was in the open for all to see. But, the people who came to see it were those who wanted to see it.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
The Details Count
I have been thinking back to the darkest days of my depression. The journal I kept helps me remember the events of those years. My first entry is on April 11, 2003.
The details of me life became most important. Now, some may say such details are just simple things. But to me, as to many people with depression, it is just those details that we have to grasp.
On April 11, I noted that the day before was my niece's birthday, and that I was able to go to Chapters to get her a card. That was an accomplishment. I also wrote " Laugh a bit now". So, I guess I must have laughed at something.
On April 13, 2003 ( a Sunday ), I wrote that on the previous Thursday and Friday, I got up at 9:30 am, which was the earliest since March. Now, I was always a morning person, getting to work around 8:30, and doing my best work from then to mid-afternoon. I always worked later, but I felt the best in the morning. It used to be exciting and fun to get into the office and get going.
April 14, I wrote that I "felt ok today in the pm". But I was "tired by 7 pm." I also noted that I "thought about checking my email." To even think about doing something was a great step forward. The thought came along, and then, if I kept thinking about it, perhaps in a week, I could actually put the thoughts into an action. But, for a long time, I was simply having the thoughts, not being able to do the action. However, it was a sign that I was getting healthy because I was starting to think.
April 23, I felt confidant for a moment.
April 24, I "chatted with clerk at The Body Shop. Went for drive , 1st time out in evening." Now, this was huge night.
I could watch tv a bit, I would watch Hazel Mae do the sports report each morning. I also got to enjoy watching Becker, a sitcom starring Ted Dansen. Also, Water Rats, an Australian cop show, became my afternoon staple. So, I was starting to enjoy tv again. Perhaps not Emmy worthy programs, but I liked them.
On April 25, I "felt safe." Now, that's a major comment. But I also suffered an anxiety attack, which I had started to handle because I had learned from my doctor that such attacks are not harmful. I knew I would live through it, and get a better grip on my circumstances.
So, the details became important. A flash in my mind of a good feeling sustained me until the next good moment, which could be the next hour or the following week. The good feelings were not very common. The bad out lasted, out weighed, and out did the good.
Small steps, but to me, all necessary and important steps if I was to get well. It took years, effort, and patience for me to get to the point in my life where the good has supplanted the bad.
The details accumulated to provide a real life.
The details of me life became most important. Now, some may say such details are just simple things. But to me, as to many people with depression, it is just those details that we have to grasp.
On April 11, I noted that the day before was my niece's birthday, and that I was able to go to Chapters to get her a card. That was an accomplishment. I also wrote " Laugh a bit now". So, I guess I must have laughed at something.
On April 13, 2003 ( a Sunday ), I wrote that on the previous Thursday and Friday, I got up at 9:30 am, which was the earliest since March. Now, I was always a morning person, getting to work around 8:30, and doing my best work from then to mid-afternoon. I always worked later, but I felt the best in the morning. It used to be exciting and fun to get into the office and get going.
April 14, I wrote that I "felt ok today in the pm". But I was "tired by 7 pm." I also noted that I "thought about checking my email." To even think about doing something was a great step forward. The thought came along, and then, if I kept thinking about it, perhaps in a week, I could actually put the thoughts into an action. But, for a long time, I was simply having the thoughts, not being able to do the action. However, it was a sign that I was getting healthy because I was starting to think.
April 23, I felt confidant for a moment.
April 24, I "chatted with clerk at The Body Shop. Went for drive , 1st time out in evening." Now, this was huge night.
I could watch tv a bit, I would watch Hazel Mae do the sports report each morning. I also got to enjoy watching Becker, a sitcom starring Ted Dansen. Also, Water Rats, an Australian cop show, became my afternoon staple. So, I was starting to enjoy tv again. Perhaps not Emmy worthy programs, but I liked them.
On April 25, I "felt safe." Now, that's a major comment. But I also suffered an anxiety attack, which I had started to handle because I had learned from my doctor that such attacks are not harmful. I knew I would live through it, and get a better grip on my circumstances.
So, the details became important. A flash in my mind of a good feeling sustained me until the next good moment, which could be the next hour or the following week. The good feelings were not very common. The bad out lasted, out weighed, and out did the good.
Small steps, but to me, all necessary and important steps if I was to get well. It took years, effort, and patience for me to get to the point in my life where the good has supplanted the bad.
The details accumulated to provide a real life.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Geography
I think it may be important to explain how geography played a role during my depression, my breakdown, and then my recovery.
I lived and practiced law in Sydney, Nova Scotia. Now, when it came time for the hearings before the Nova Scotia Barristers' Society, they were held in the Society's offices in Halifax, which is a 4-5 hour drive from Sydney.
In March, I travelled to Halifax for the hearing. I was unable to drive, my mind beginning to unravel, so, my mother drove the entire trip.
My sister, her husband, and their two children live outside of Halifax, so, we arrived there on a Sunday, the hearing was set for Tuesday morning. I do know that we all checked into the Radisson Hotel at some point, just not sure exactly when. It is located just across the street from the Bar Society's offices. I also booked a room there for my lawyer. He and I met on that Monday to prepare.
The hearing on Tuesday was difficult to make, I had a major anxiety attack early that morning. At that time I didn't know what an anxiety attack was, I had had them before, but I just didn't know what happened with such an attack. My mother and sister who stayed in the suite with me, calmed me down. Then I met my lawyer in the lobby, and off we went for the 11:00 am hearing.
The hearing, held in public though no public attended, consisted of my testifying about my wrong decisions and some of my life. It lasted until after 5:00 pm. I was suspended for 3 months.
Now, my mother and sister waited at the Radisson Hotel all day, worrying and wondering. My brother-in-law spent the day driving around, waiting for my sister to call him with the outcome.
When I walked to the hotel, my mother and sister were in the lobby. Given my suspension, I was in shock. I told them what happened,we hugged and then went to the room. My sister called her husband to join us. He was there in minutes. Now, we had no arrangement made as to what to do. So, we just looked at the situation and I decided that I wanted to check out and go to my sister's, I wanted to see my niece and nephew. Though only 17 and 16 at the time, they were fully aware of the events unfolding.
We packed up and checked out. However, I did leave one thing behind. As a lawyer and thus needing to dress for work, I had maybe 100 ties, some allocated for certain events. I had one tie that I always wore to funerals, that was the tie I chose to wear to the hearing. I tossed it in the hotel trash as we left.
It was at my sister's that my breakdown took hold. My niece was kind and generous enough to give up her bedroom for me, for two years. Her room was a good size, and centrally located. She moved to the lower level.
The doctors I was fortunate to have treat me were located in Halifax. I felt save at my sister's, with everyone there. We all thought I needed everyone's help, and it helped each of us to be together.
But, in order to see to my house in Sydney and other matters, I travelled , usually as the passenger, between Halifax and Sydney, for those years. Those trips were sometimes difficult. I was groggy from my drugs, and unable to drive until the last part of the trip. As well, it was a real effort to leave the perceived safety of the bedroom.
But the travelling also provided me with the chance to get out of the bedroom, which though troubling in the short term, I think I benefited in the longer term. We would stop to eat on the trip, getting me out. As well, we usually picked up groceries . Again, I would go into the store. Now, I know, it may sound like simple things, eating in a restaraunt and getting groceries, but to me, living with depression, they were not. It took great effort to to do these things, but, with each trip, I learned I could. We found a great little spot in New Glasgow that served real food. So, the more often we ate there, the more comfortable I became. Small steps, but huge accomplishments.
My life those years consisted of weekly visits to my doctor; regular trips home; crashing, literally, at my sister's; trying to get out of the bedroom, then the house. These were trying times.
But I also had some hope, though smothered under the darkness of depression. At that time, my hope consisted of just my wanting to get well. How, when, and if I could were matters for another day. I knew the path to getting well would not be simple.
I lived and practiced law in Sydney, Nova Scotia. Now, when it came time for the hearings before the Nova Scotia Barristers' Society, they were held in the Society's offices in Halifax, which is a 4-5 hour drive from Sydney.
In March, I travelled to Halifax for the hearing. I was unable to drive, my mind beginning to unravel, so, my mother drove the entire trip.
My sister, her husband, and their two children live outside of Halifax, so, we arrived there on a Sunday, the hearing was set for Tuesday morning. I do know that we all checked into the Radisson Hotel at some point, just not sure exactly when. It is located just across the street from the Bar Society's offices. I also booked a room there for my lawyer. He and I met on that Monday to prepare.
The hearing on Tuesday was difficult to make, I had a major anxiety attack early that morning. At that time I didn't know what an anxiety attack was, I had had them before, but I just didn't know what happened with such an attack. My mother and sister who stayed in the suite with me, calmed me down. Then I met my lawyer in the lobby, and off we went for the 11:00 am hearing.
The hearing, held in public though no public attended, consisted of my testifying about my wrong decisions and some of my life. It lasted until after 5:00 pm. I was suspended for 3 months.
Now, my mother and sister waited at the Radisson Hotel all day, worrying and wondering. My brother-in-law spent the day driving around, waiting for my sister to call him with the outcome.
When I walked to the hotel, my mother and sister were in the lobby. Given my suspension, I was in shock. I told them what happened,we hugged and then went to the room. My sister called her husband to join us. He was there in minutes. Now, we had no arrangement made as to what to do. So, we just looked at the situation and I decided that I wanted to check out and go to my sister's, I wanted to see my niece and nephew. Though only 17 and 16 at the time, they were fully aware of the events unfolding.
We packed up and checked out. However, I did leave one thing behind. As a lawyer and thus needing to dress for work, I had maybe 100 ties, some allocated for certain events. I had one tie that I always wore to funerals, that was the tie I chose to wear to the hearing. I tossed it in the hotel trash as we left.
It was at my sister's that my breakdown took hold. My niece was kind and generous enough to give up her bedroom for me, for two years. Her room was a good size, and centrally located. She moved to the lower level.
The doctors I was fortunate to have treat me were located in Halifax. I felt save at my sister's, with everyone there. We all thought I needed everyone's help, and it helped each of us to be together.
But, in order to see to my house in Sydney and other matters, I travelled , usually as the passenger, between Halifax and Sydney, for those years. Those trips were sometimes difficult. I was groggy from my drugs, and unable to drive until the last part of the trip. As well, it was a real effort to leave the perceived safety of the bedroom.
But the travelling also provided me with the chance to get out of the bedroom, which though troubling in the short term, I think I benefited in the longer term. We would stop to eat on the trip, getting me out. As well, we usually picked up groceries . Again, I would go into the store. Now, I know, it may sound like simple things, eating in a restaraunt and getting groceries, but to me, living with depression, they were not. It took great effort to to do these things, but, with each trip, I learned I could. We found a great little spot in New Glasgow that served real food. So, the more often we ate there, the more comfortable I became. Small steps, but huge accomplishments.
My life those years consisted of weekly visits to my doctor; regular trips home; crashing, literally, at my sister's; trying to get out of the bedroom, then the house. These were trying times.
But I also had some hope, though smothered under the darkness of depression. At that time, my hope consisted of just my wanting to get well. How, when, and if I could were matters for another day. I knew the path to getting well would not be simple.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The Blog's Title
The title of my blog was easy to choose.
The "Kickin' Depression" is derived from an expression my sister uses. In discussing certain events and people, she often says "kick them to the curb". She means simply put that event / person out of your thoughts, out of your life, and move forward. Needless to say, she has told that to me many times these last few years. I have tried, and succeeded, to dismiss the not so nice events that occurred and to focus on the many good aspects of my life. As mentioned, I have also moved forward to the point where I can dismiss those people I think weren't there to help.
But I also wanted the title to reflect where I am now in my life. So, I considered a few ideas, but kept looking at the title that the National Post chose for my article. They decided on the title " How I returned to a life worth living." It just fit. I think I have returned to a real life, and it continues to improve. So, I thank Maryam Siddiqi, Deputy Editor, Arts & Life, National Post, for printing my story and for the title.
Thus, the title "My Return: Kickin' Depression"
The "Kickin' Depression" is derived from an expression my sister uses. In discussing certain events and people, she often says "kick them to the curb". She means simply put that event / person out of your thoughts, out of your life, and move forward. Needless to say, she has told that to me many times these last few years. I have tried, and succeeded, to dismiss the not so nice events that occurred and to focus on the many good aspects of my life. As mentioned, I have also moved forward to the point where I can dismiss those people I think weren't there to help.
But I also wanted the title to reflect where I am now in my life. So, I considered a few ideas, but kept looking at the title that the National Post chose for my article. They decided on the title " How I returned to a life worth living." It just fit. I think I have returned to a real life, and it continues to improve. So, I thank Maryam Siddiqi, Deputy Editor, Arts & Life, National Post, for printing my story and for the title.
Thus, the title "My Return: Kickin' Depression"
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Next
Well, here I am, I have no money, no job, no income, no house. Life is good.
Seriously though, my life is good. To focus on what I don't have is not fair to what I do have. I have my good health. I am as mentally strong now as I was 25 years ago. I have my family, all healthy as well. I sleep well. I can read a book and enjoy it. I can truly smile and laugh. I can enjoy each day.
I will one day, once I have sufficient funds, apply to the Bar Society to be re-instated. If I am fortunate enough to be re-instated, I am not sure what I will then do as a career, but it will unfold. I do know that my new career will be different from the old one.
I have a few options before me, and all will be considered in due time. As well, I have certain matters to be resolved, I look forward to wrapping up the past and moving on.
In the meantime, I know that I will enjoy whatever I choose, and who knows what may come along. There have been some good, and unexpected, opportunities already.
I am healthy, physically and mentally, and the other pieces of my life are starting to fall into place. It feels real good.
As Van Morrison sang, "Back on my feet again, I'm back on the street again."
Seriously though, my life is good. To focus on what I don't have is not fair to what I do have. I have my good health. I am as mentally strong now as I was 25 years ago. I have my family, all healthy as well. I sleep well. I can read a book and enjoy it. I can truly smile and laugh. I can enjoy each day.
I will one day, once I have sufficient funds, apply to the Bar Society to be re-instated. If I am fortunate enough to be re-instated, I am not sure what I will then do as a career, but it will unfold. I do know that my new career will be different from the old one.
I have a few options before me, and all will be considered in due time. As well, I have certain matters to be resolved, I look forward to wrapping up the past and moving on.
In the meantime, I know that I will enjoy whatever I choose, and who knows what may come along. There have been some good, and unexpected, opportunities already.
I am healthy, physically and mentally, and the other pieces of my life are starting to fall into place. It feels real good.
As Van Morrison sang, "Back on my feet again, I'm back on the street again."
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Getting Back
Well, as is obvious, March of 2003 was rough. My depression had reached its greatest depth. Anxiety attacks were a daily occurrence. My career was gone. Now, where would my life go? It couldn't get any worse. Even in the midst of such angst, I knew I wanted to get healthy. But I questioned if I could.
I was in real bad shape. I had no self confidence, no self worth, little energy or interest in anything, all of which are symptoms of depression. To venture outside of the bedroom was a big step; to go outside of the house was a major accomplishment.
I was fortunate to have had, and continue to have, great family support. My immediate family provided such care and concern that I knew I was well protected. They encouraged , at times strongly urged , me to take the necessary steps to recovery. We discussed my illness and its impact on my life. They sat at my beside for weeks. Without them, I would have ended up in hospital.
My family doctor, when he diagnosed me, also prescribed medication. It slowed my mind down, no more having to handle too many pressures. However, within a month, the dosage was doubled in order to maintain the drug's effectiveness. I knew that my mental state was drug induced, but it was still a healthy break. Some of the side effects included my sleeping a lot, and eating too much. Given how I had been living, these side effects were welcome.
I was fortuntate again, in that I had a medical plan that helped cover the cost of medication, and when it was cancelled, I could still afford it.
But early on, we recognized that I needed additional help.
The Nova Scotia Barristers' Society provided me with a list of four psychologists, for whom the Society would cover the cost of the first ten visits. It took a lot of encouragement from my family, but I called the first on the list. I spoke with the doctor on a poor speaker phone, while she ruffled through some papers, paying me little attention. I knew enough not seek her assistance. Now, with depression, and given this doctor's reception which re-enforced my low self worth, I thought no one wanted to help.
However, with still more family encouragement, I called the next doctor on the list. Dr. Deb, as I will call her, seemed like a good fit and an appointment was made for the following week. Now, I had never been to therapy before, so, I didn't know what to expect. Well, it's amazing what one will tell a stranger. The floodgates opened and out flowed my life.
I attended therapy once a week for two years, then once a month. Going to therapy became the highlight of the week. My family and I tried to make the right decisions for my recovery. Each week, Dr. Deb would confirm that our thinking and actions were correct. That gave us great comfort because we knew that we were starting to understand depression.
Dr. Deb suggested I keep a journal,which turned out to a be a great idea. In practical terms, the journal was helpful, because during those days, my memory was not very good. As well, it now gives me a source to review for this blog and for my own personal interest. I would make a note if I felt good for a few minutes; a smile was a huge event, a laugh was amazing.
I gradually developed a routine to allow me to leave the house. I realized I had a certain comfort zone. I had existed in my own small world, I now had to expand to become part of the real world.
I was too groggy from my medication in the mornings to do anything. I was no longer a morning person. I did not go anywhere alone for a long time, because I knew I could not handle a situation if something went astray.
I could go to Chapters, on Mondays or Tuesdays, when the store would be quiet. Upon entering, I would stop and look around to ensure that there weren't many people inside. I could no longer handle a busy place, I found it too chaotic. This was certainly a change for me, I enjoyed hectic places, the busier the better. No more.
Another step I took in the early days was to go out to eat. I started by getting take out and eating in the car in the back parking lot of the restaurant. After doing this for a couple of months, I then progressed to eating in the front parking lot. I did this for awhile. Then one day, I ate in the restaurant. Eventually, in the summer of 2004, there were days, usually after therapy when I was feeling good, that I ate Bud the Spud fries on the steps of the Spring Garden Rd. courthouse. This was a good moment.
Once I got out alone, I could go to the Sunnyside Mall. I also enjoyed driving around the city in the evening and into the night , listening to the radio or to a CD, being able to enjoy music again, what a treat.
Some friends provided solid support. They not only reached out to contact me, they actually took steps on their own initiative to help. They helped sell the house; stored my belongings; took time to talk with me; and took me for drives around the city.
Another couple of long time friends called me one night to see how I was doing. Given their past difficulties, they easily understood my circumstances. They took me to some movies ( hey, Big Fish was good ). I learned I could focus on an entire movie and enjoy it. They even got me to attend pilates classes.
There were some bumps along the way. Some people did not reach out at all, which was both shocking and unsettling. I could discuss this at length, which I will in a later posting.
Others snubbed me, one who used to greet me with a hug, walked by me in a grocery store. Another, a local judge who I had known for years, kept his eyes on the floor after seeing me at a corner store.
Another person came back into my life fully knowing of my depression , took full advantage and treated me poorly, setting my recovery back by a year. So, be wary of such false comforts.
I was told and then I came to realize that such people, especially those from whom I did not hear, are not true friends and to dismiss them from my life. I had to learn who was true and honest. If I was to have a new full life, changes had to occur. So, the decision to remove such people from my mind and to banish them from my heart was made. It was difficult and took a couple of years, but necessary and healthy. Once I made such decision, I knew I was in better control of my life.
As well, in the winter of 2005, with my doctor's guidance, I weaned myself off my medication, so that my mental state was of my own doing.
So, walking the path to good health required help, understanding and care from my family, certain friends, and my doctors. It took a series of small steps, which to me were huge, and a strong will on everyones part. But most importantly, it took my wanting to get well.
Keith
I was in real bad shape. I had no self confidence, no self worth, little energy or interest in anything, all of which are symptoms of depression. To venture outside of the bedroom was a big step; to go outside of the house was a major accomplishment.
I was fortunate to have had, and continue to have, great family support. My immediate family provided such care and concern that I knew I was well protected. They encouraged , at times strongly urged , me to take the necessary steps to recovery. We discussed my illness and its impact on my life. They sat at my beside for weeks. Without them, I would have ended up in hospital.
My family doctor, when he diagnosed me, also prescribed medication. It slowed my mind down, no more having to handle too many pressures. However, within a month, the dosage was doubled in order to maintain the drug's effectiveness. I knew that my mental state was drug induced, but it was still a healthy break. Some of the side effects included my sleeping a lot, and eating too much. Given how I had been living, these side effects were welcome.
I was fortuntate again, in that I had a medical plan that helped cover the cost of medication, and when it was cancelled, I could still afford it.
But early on, we recognized that I needed additional help.
The Nova Scotia Barristers' Society provided me with a list of four psychologists, for whom the Society would cover the cost of the first ten visits. It took a lot of encouragement from my family, but I called the first on the list. I spoke with the doctor on a poor speaker phone, while she ruffled through some papers, paying me little attention. I knew enough not seek her assistance. Now, with depression, and given this doctor's reception which re-enforced my low self worth, I thought no one wanted to help.
However, with still more family encouragement, I called the next doctor on the list. Dr. Deb, as I will call her, seemed like a good fit and an appointment was made for the following week. Now, I had never been to therapy before, so, I didn't know what to expect. Well, it's amazing what one will tell a stranger. The floodgates opened and out flowed my life.
I attended therapy once a week for two years, then once a month. Going to therapy became the highlight of the week. My family and I tried to make the right decisions for my recovery. Each week, Dr. Deb would confirm that our thinking and actions were correct. That gave us great comfort because we knew that we were starting to understand depression.
Dr. Deb suggested I keep a journal,which turned out to a be a great idea. In practical terms, the journal was helpful, because during those days, my memory was not very good. As well, it now gives me a source to review for this blog and for my own personal interest. I would make a note if I felt good for a few minutes; a smile was a huge event, a laugh was amazing.
I gradually developed a routine to allow me to leave the house. I realized I had a certain comfort zone. I had existed in my own small world, I now had to expand to become part of the real world.
I was too groggy from my medication in the mornings to do anything. I was no longer a morning person. I did not go anywhere alone for a long time, because I knew I could not handle a situation if something went astray.
I could go to Chapters, on Mondays or Tuesdays, when the store would be quiet. Upon entering, I would stop and look around to ensure that there weren't many people inside. I could no longer handle a busy place, I found it too chaotic. This was certainly a change for me, I enjoyed hectic places, the busier the better. No more.
Another step I took in the early days was to go out to eat. I started by getting take out and eating in the car in the back parking lot of the restaurant. After doing this for a couple of months, I then progressed to eating in the front parking lot. I did this for awhile. Then one day, I ate in the restaurant. Eventually, in the summer of 2004, there were days, usually after therapy when I was feeling good, that I ate Bud the Spud fries on the steps of the Spring Garden Rd. courthouse. This was a good moment.
Once I got out alone, I could go to the Sunnyside Mall. I also enjoyed driving around the city in the evening and into the night , listening to the radio or to a CD, being able to enjoy music again, what a treat.
Some friends provided solid support. They not only reached out to contact me, they actually took steps on their own initiative to help. They helped sell the house; stored my belongings; took time to talk with me; and took me for drives around the city.
Another couple of long time friends called me one night to see how I was doing. Given their past difficulties, they easily understood my circumstances. They took me to some movies ( hey, Big Fish was good ). I learned I could focus on an entire movie and enjoy it. They even got me to attend pilates classes.
There were some bumps along the way. Some people did not reach out at all, which was both shocking and unsettling. I could discuss this at length, which I will in a later posting.
Others snubbed me, one who used to greet me with a hug, walked by me in a grocery store. Another, a local judge who I had known for years, kept his eyes on the floor after seeing me at a corner store.
Another person came back into my life fully knowing of my depression , took full advantage and treated me poorly, setting my recovery back by a year. So, be wary of such false comforts.
I was told and then I came to realize that such people, especially those from whom I did not hear, are not true friends and to dismiss them from my life. I had to learn who was true and honest. If I was to have a new full life, changes had to occur. So, the decision to remove such people from my mind and to banish them from my heart was made. It was difficult and took a couple of years, but necessary and healthy. Once I made such decision, I knew I was in better control of my life.
As well, in the winter of 2005, with my doctor's guidance, I weaned myself off my medication, so that my mental state was of my own doing.
So, walking the path to good health required help, understanding and care from my family, certain friends, and my doctors. It took a series of small steps, which to me were huge, and a strong will on everyones part. But most importantly, it took my wanting to get well.
Keith
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Diagnosis
On March 7, 2003, I was diagnosed by my family doctor of 25 years with severe depression. I have since learned that the depression had been creeping into my mind for many years.
On March 11, I was suspended by the Nova Scotia Barristers' Society from the practice of law.
On March 12, I suffered an almost complete mental breakdown, which had been unfolding for weeks, if not months.
So, it certainly wasn't my best week. The weeks and months that followed weren't much better.
I was confined to a bedroom for a month, unable to venture into the world. In fact, I was pretty much limited to a bedroom, a house, for a few years.
My mind was so fragmented that I could accomplish only a few life activities. I could attend at my doctors', go to Chapters, and drive at certain times of the day. My thinking was no longer sharp, I could not remember certain things. It was as if my mind no longer worked in certain areas.
Anxiety attacks became common. My heart would race, I would break into a sweat, and my head would pound. A normal occurrence , like the phone's ringing, could cause me to experience an anxiety attack. It could take hours, or at times, even days to recover. Such attacks were exhausting. As an attack swept over me, I would "hide" in bed or collapse on the floor.
I had lost my health and career within a week. How did I arrive at this point? To be honest, at the time, I was not sure. But with time, help, and lots of thinking, I now understand completely.
In early March, someone who knew of the complaint which led to my being suspended by the Bar Society, looked over my professional history , which consisted of a few complaints all dismissed at the first instance. His response was " What happened to you, this just doesn't happen. Something went wrong . " I had no answer. He suggested I see my doctor. Two days later I was diagnosed.
The crux of the complaint against me before the Bar Society involved certain decisions I made and actions I took when I purchased a new house, acting more or less as my own lawyer.
When I was presented with the entire set of facts, I initially had difficulty recognizing that we were talking about me. The events unfolding were so surreal. I think my mind was already beginning to break, the external pressures becoming internal pressures. However, I had no difficulty in acknowledging that my decisions were wrong and unethical. I accepted responsibility and was held accountable.
Back in 2003, given my state of mind, my understanding of the connection between my depression and the decisions I made in buying the house was limited. But today, with a clear and healthy mind and a better understanding of the effects of depression, the link is evident.
My depression put me in a place mentally where I wanted and needed to withdraw further from the world, a typical symptom of depression. My solo lunches were no longer enough. I worked with clients and staff all day. I could not hide at the office. So, I thought that if I could shut down my personal life, and thus hide, I would be completely alone and then my mind would be at peace. That was my goal.
Now, the house I found and purchased was very isolated. The driveway was one kilometre long. There were no neighbours. I told very few people that I was going to buy it, told even fewer that I had actually closed the transaction. Given my need to be alone, the house was a perfect fit. Getting this house was a matter of survival.
Therefore, I made certain decisions in order to buy it. At the time, I did not recognize that they were wrong. It was simply that my mind was so fragmented and my depression so powerful that my decision making was not governed by the proper parameters. My life depended on my buying the house. That was my only consideration.
Once I moved in though, my withdrawal escalated. While living there, I invited few people to visit. In my prior house, in a standard subdivision, I had staff parties, Super Bowl parties. Not anymore, not in the new house.
My need to hide was so intense that I had constructed a massive wrought iron gate at the end of my driveway. Most nights, upon getting home, I would close and lock the gate. Now, no one visited. No one was around. But still, I needed to lock the gate, to keep the world away. At least that's how my mind functioned, or didn't function.
At this point, I think it's necessary to explain the Nova Scotia Barristers' Society's complaint process, to show how it works and how certain events unfolded over its course which came to help me.
A public hearing was convened by the Bar Society for March 11, 2003. I attended with my lawyer, who , it should be noted, did an exceptional job in handling my file, and, at times, my personal well being. I think he understood depression and what it can do to a person better then I did at that time. My family waited at the hotel across the street from the Bar Society's offices. The hearing was held in Halifax, and I lived in Sydney, a 4-5 hour drive.
I responded to questions from the Bar Society's lawyer, my lawyer, and the Committee's members for several hours. The Committee, after careful consideration, suspended me for three months, allowing for further review by all involved.
During those three months, an agreed statement of facts was achieved between the lawyers. This Agreement called for me to be suspended for two years, back dated to March 11, 2003. In order to be re-instated, I would have to be declared mentally healthy by a psychiatrist and cover the Bar Society's costs in the amount of $25,000.00.
But this Agreement had to be approved by another Bar Society Committee, so another public hearing was held on June 23, 2003. Again, my family waited in the hotel across the street. I testified for a few hours. I took full responsibility for my decisions. I agreed that what I had done was wrong. I understood depression better then I did in March, and thus, I was able to explain what happened to me. Both lawyers presented a joint recommendation according to the terms of the Agreement. This Committee approved the settlement.
I must commend everyone involved, from the lawyers, the Bar Society's administration, the Committee members, and the woman who provided me with water and tissues. They listened to me and acknowledged the impact of depression on my life. That provided some peace.
My family told me that the Bar Society would have a "heart". I just didn't think anyone would when it came to me, my low self worth brought on by depression being a symptom of depression. As the June hearing concluded, John Merrick, Q.C., the chair of the Committee, finished by saying "Keith, go home and get well".
Shortly after my suspension, and in the midst of my breakdown, I realized that getting suspended may have been the best thing to happen to me in awhile, for several reasons.
One may think my life must have quite difficult if getting suspended was a good thing. Well, that's correct, my life was that bad.
Getting suspended gave me a second chance. It removed me from a workplace that was not healthy for me. I no longer had to struggle to go to the office. I no longer had to pretend that I enjoyed my work. I no longer had to deal with the people everyday. The pressures of my office were gone. Also, thanks to the diagnosis of depression, I knew the source of my troubles. All I had to do was work to get well. I had a chance at a real life. I had a new found sense of optimism, even though it was covered by layers of low self confidence, low self worth, and anxiety attacks. I hoped that one day that the optimism would rule. I realized I had a long and difficult path ahead, but at least I was now on the path.
As well, the suspension gave me an option to focus on my mental health and to get well. I lived on a lake, and many nights, I looked at the lake as my only option out of my troubles.
I remember explaining this to John Merrick in July, 2006, and his response " Well, I guess it's just a matter of perspective."
So true.
Keith
On March 11, I was suspended by the Nova Scotia Barristers' Society from the practice of law.
On March 12, I suffered an almost complete mental breakdown, which had been unfolding for weeks, if not months.
So, it certainly wasn't my best week. The weeks and months that followed weren't much better.
I was confined to a bedroom for a month, unable to venture into the world. In fact, I was pretty much limited to a bedroom, a house, for a few years.
My mind was so fragmented that I could accomplish only a few life activities. I could attend at my doctors', go to Chapters, and drive at certain times of the day. My thinking was no longer sharp, I could not remember certain things. It was as if my mind no longer worked in certain areas.
Anxiety attacks became common. My heart would race, I would break into a sweat, and my head would pound. A normal occurrence , like the phone's ringing, could cause me to experience an anxiety attack. It could take hours, or at times, even days to recover. Such attacks were exhausting. As an attack swept over me, I would "hide" in bed or collapse on the floor.
I had lost my health and career within a week. How did I arrive at this point? To be honest, at the time, I was not sure. But with time, help, and lots of thinking, I now understand completely.
In early March, someone who knew of the complaint which led to my being suspended by the Bar Society, looked over my professional history , which consisted of a few complaints all dismissed at the first instance. His response was " What happened to you, this just doesn't happen. Something went wrong . " I had no answer. He suggested I see my doctor. Two days later I was diagnosed.
The crux of the complaint against me before the Bar Society involved certain decisions I made and actions I took when I purchased a new house, acting more or less as my own lawyer.
When I was presented with the entire set of facts, I initially had difficulty recognizing that we were talking about me. The events unfolding were so surreal. I think my mind was already beginning to break, the external pressures becoming internal pressures. However, I had no difficulty in acknowledging that my decisions were wrong and unethical. I accepted responsibility and was held accountable.
Back in 2003, given my state of mind, my understanding of the connection between my depression and the decisions I made in buying the house was limited. But today, with a clear and healthy mind and a better understanding of the effects of depression, the link is evident.
My depression put me in a place mentally where I wanted and needed to withdraw further from the world, a typical symptom of depression. My solo lunches were no longer enough. I worked with clients and staff all day. I could not hide at the office. So, I thought that if I could shut down my personal life, and thus hide, I would be completely alone and then my mind would be at peace. That was my goal.
Now, the house I found and purchased was very isolated. The driveway was one kilometre long. There were no neighbours. I told very few people that I was going to buy it, told even fewer that I had actually closed the transaction. Given my need to be alone, the house was a perfect fit. Getting this house was a matter of survival.
Therefore, I made certain decisions in order to buy it. At the time, I did not recognize that they were wrong. It was simply that my mind was so fragmented and my depression so powerful that my decision making was not governed by the proper parameters. My life depended on my buying the house. That was my only consideration.
Once I moved in though, my withdrawal escalated. While living there, I invited few people to visit. In my prior house, in a standard subdivision, I had staff parties, Super Bowl parties. Not anymore, not in the new house.
My need to hide was so intense that I had constructed a massive wrought iron gate at the end of my driveway. Most nights, upon getting home, I would close and lock the gate. Now, no one visited. No one was around. But still, I needed to lock the gate, to keep the world away. At least that's how my mind functioned, or didn't function.
At this point, I think it's necessary to explain the Nova Scotia Barristers' Society's complaint process, to show how it works and how certain events unfolded over its course which came to help me.
A public hearing was convened by the Bar Society for March 11, 2003. I attended with my lawyer, who , it should be noted, did an exceptional job in handling my file, and, at times, my personal well being. I think he understood depression and what it can do to a person better then I did at that time. My family waited at the hotel across the street from the Bar Society's offices. The hearing was held in Halifax, and I lived in Sydney, a 4-5 hour drive.
I responded to questions from the Bar Society's lawyer, my lawyer, and the Committee's members for several hours. The Committee, after careful consideration, suspended me for three months, allowing for further review by all involved.
During those three months, an agreed statement of facts was achieved between the lawyers. This Agreement called for me to be suspended for two years, back dated to March 11, 2003. In order to be re-instated, I would have to be declared mentally healthy by a psychiatrist and cover the Bar Society's costs in the amount of $25,000.00.
But this Agreement had to be approved by another Bar Society Committee, so another public hearing was held on June 23, 2003. Again, my family waited in the hotel across the street. I testified for a few hours. I took full responsibility for my decisions. I agreed that what I had done was wrong. I understood depression better then I did in March, and thus, I was able to explain what happened to me. Both lawyers presented a joint recommendation according to the terms of the Agreement. This Committee approved the settlement.
I must commend everyone involved, from the lawyers, the Bar Society's administration, the Committee members, and the woman who provided me with water and tissues. They listened to me and acknowledged the impact of depression on my life. That provided some peace.
My family told me that the Bar Society would have a "heart". I just didn't think anyone would when it came to me, my low self worth brought on by depression being a symptom of depression. As the June hearing concluded, John Merrick, Q.C., the chair of the Committee, finished by saying "Keith, go home and get well".
Shortly after my suspension, and in the midst of my breakdown, I realized that getting suspended may have been the best thing to happen to me in awhile, for several reasons.
One may think my life must have quite difficult if getting suspended was a good thing. Well, that's correct, my life was that bad.
Getting suspended gave me a second chance. It removed me from a workplace that was not healthy for me. I no longer had to struggle to go to the office. I no longer had to pretend that I enjoyed my work. I no longer had to deal with the people everyday. The pressures of my office were gone. Also, thanks to the diagnosis of depression, I knew the source of my troubles. All I had to do was work to get well. I had a chance at a real life. I had a new found sense of optimism, even though it was covered by layers of low self confidence, low self worth, and anxiety attacks. I hoped that one day that the optimism would rule. I realized I had a long and difficult path ahead, but at least I was now on the path.
As well, the suspension gave me an option to focus on my mental health and to get well. I lived on a lake, and many nights, I looked at the lake as my only option out of my troubles.
I remember explaining this to John Merrick in July, 2006, and his response " Well, I guess it's just a matter of perspective."
So true.
Keith
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Life is Over Rated
Life is over rated. I made that comment one early morning as I traveled with some friends to Cape Smokey to learn how to ski. Over the years that comment became a joke, a phrase we brought out when one of us was having a bad day. But ten or so years later, that was how I actually looked at my life, there wasn't much promising about it.
I was diagnosed with severe depression in March of 2003, followed a few days later by an almost complete mental breakdown. . I had unknowingly lived with it for years. I was 42 years old. I had practiced law since 1984, except for a one year gap when I returned to university. My main areas of practice were real estate and wills and probate matters.
Looking at my life from the outside, it appeared very full and exciting. I had the career, as senior and managing partner in a successful law firm; the vehicles, a four wheel drive and an MG for the summer; money in my pocket; for awhile, a younger, attractive girl friend. But to me, I had nothing.
With my mind now clear, I can see how the illness moved into my life. At the time, however, I saw just a series of bad moments, bad days, bad things happening to me. I knew I was in pain, but that's all I knew. I had no way out. So, why did I miss the signs that I had a mental illness and what were those signs.
The "why" is now easy. In my twenties, I did well, in university and then at work. I enjoyed taking on any challenge. I was strong minded, hard working, and optimistic about life.
So, when in my thirties, life brought more challenges, I just thought I could, in time, overcome them. Asking for help was not in my options, I could do it alone, I always had. But there was a difference in that these new challenges were personal to me. I had always dealt with the problems of others, but I came to learn that dealing with my own was another matter, of which I knew little.
My personal difficulties began with a failed business venture, spearheaded by a partner, in 1990. However, the law firm we established in 1989 became successful. It took many long days and nights, over many years, but the financial rewards were realized.
But the most traumatic event that put me on the path to having depression, from what my doctor, Dr. DEB, and I determined, was the death of my father in February of 1992.
I was close to my father. We spoke everyday and saw each other most days. Our respective jobs brought us into contact as well. He was a real estate agent, I practiced real estate law.
Growing up, and still to this day, my family was and is close knit. We always had dinner together when I was young. We would talk about the day's events. Holidays were a special time, whether it was around Nova Scotia, a trip south, or seeing a baseball game in Montreal. These times were important. As well, we all had a love of politics, which during the Trudeau years, made for exciting times.
The actual signs of depression are now easy to see. I think I could identify problems, but I made no link to an illness. I knew thing's weren't going well for me, but I dismissed it as just a bad day. I just didn't understand that after 100's of bad days , that it was more.
Well, perhaps one of the first signs of my developing depression was that I started withdrawing from my friends. I had always enjoyed my alone time, but I also had many friends. Some friends were important and close to me, others were, as I call them, 9-5 friends.
Some of my best friends live overseas. We attended university together in 1986-87, all being foreign students, so having that in common brought us together. We kept in touch, on the telephone, letters ( in the days before email ), and spending holidays together. Then gradually, I stopped communicating with them. So, that, within a few years, these relationships were no more.
As well, one university classmate from undergrad, who lived just a few hours away was cut out. We were pretty tight in the good years of my life. I enjoyed our times together because we didn't always talk shop, we had common interests beyond work. But slowly, this went away too.
Lunch time became a solo time. Given how hard I worked and the long hours, I made a point of going for lunch. It was a much needed break in a usually hectic day, a time to breathe and chat with friends. But gradually, I stopped going out to eat with people. When asked out, I had an excuse. Then eventually, the invitations stopped, as to be expected.
I would eat alone in my vehicle. I would get a plain bagel and a bottle of water, and eat it as I drove around. When I didn't have the energy to drive, I would eat in a parking lot, hidden among the other vehicles, hoping that no one would see me and want to talk. I couldn't be part of the world for that half hour. I could eat alone and think that I could disappear for a brief moment. It became my means to hide during the day, week after week.
Another means of avoiding people was to shop for groceries on Monday evenings when, hopefully, the store would be quiet. I can now say I avoided people because with a clear mind, I can recognize that behaviour.
As well, I can look back and shake my head, I had such a twisted way of thinking with regard to certain things. A prime example was the insomnia that set in and the reasons I had for not sleeping.
What a horrible sleeping routine I had for years. On Sunday night/ Monday morning, I would be awake until 5-6 in the morning, then sleep until 7:30, then get up and go to work. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday nights/ mornings were the same. The exhaustion was overwhelming , but I still would not sleep. By Thursday and then Friday, the lack of sleep would finally get to me and I would crash. I would get some rest on the weekend. But then, along comes Sunday, the routine repeats. This occurred on a regular basis for weeks, going into months and years. I would get a normal week's sleep once in awhile.
So, why would I not sleep. At the time, I certainly wasn't happy. I had a poor outlook on my life, nothing was going well. I looked forward to very little. I hated to face the next day, the work, the people, the demands, the pressures. I had no fun at work or after work. Now, this is where depression set in to mess up my thinking, there is no logic involved. By staying awake late into the night/ morning, I thought it would put off the next day's beginning. If I slept, the next day would come quicker. So, I stayed awake, hoping for tomorrow not to come.
Tears became a regular event. They would flow from when I left my house to when I drove into the office parking lot. I would walk into the office and pretend to be in a good mood. Pretending is exhausting. Then after a long day of work, more tears while driving to my house, well into the night. This went on for weeks and months.
Since I was a child, I loved to read. Even during my university days, I still read books not related to my studies. As I studied law, I would read books on evolution, physics, or politics. Book shops were one of my havens, whether it was Waterstone's, Barnes& Nobles or the used book shop around the corner.
But as my depression progressed, I found that I couldn't focus well enough to read, concentration was just not available. I would read for twenty minutes, then stop, realizing that I had no idea what I had just read. My work required lots of reading, which I could do, but I couldn't read for enjoyment. I would buy the books, and they would find a place in a book case, unread.
Another indication of the impact of depression was on my last true relationship. We met a few years before my diagnosis. She was quite possibly the most interesting, exciting, attractive, certainly the most fun, woman I had dated. But as my depression wrapped around my mind, and thus my life, I grew distant from her. I was not able to commit to many things, whether it was a trip or dinner tomorrow night. My non-existent self worth prevented me from accepting the relationship as actually happening. I thought I didn't deserve to be happy. I remember saying to her early on that she intimidated me, a sure sign of depression. We were in touch throughout my breakdown period. I now know that that relationship had great potential, but it was taken away by my depression. So, D., we were short changed.
So, now with a healthy mind, I can easily identify the symptoms of depression I experienced. The above are the more pronounced signs , but there were more.
A physical pain I can handle, but a mental pain is different. The pain was my mind breaking into pieces. The exhaustion, the angst were overwhelming. Depression had taken hold.
Keith
I was diagnosed with severe depression in March of 2003, followed a few days later by an almost complete mental breakdown. . I had unknowingly lived with it for years. I was 42 years old. I had practiced law since 1984, except for a one year gap when I returned to university. My main areas of practice were real estate and wills and probate matters.
Looking at my life from the outside, it appeared very full and exciting. I had the career, as senior and managing partner in a successful law firm; the vehicles, a four wheel drive and an MG for the summer; money in my pocket; for awhile, a younger, attractive girl friend. But to me, I had nothing.
With my mind now clear, I can see how the illness moved into my life. At the time, however, I saw just a series of bad moments, bad days, bad things happening to me. I knew I was in pain, but that's all I knew. I had no way out. So, why did I miss the signs that I had a mental illness and what were those signs.
The "why" is now easy. In my twenties, I did well, in university and then at work. I enjoyed taking on any challenge. I was strong minded, hard working, and optimistic about life.
So, when in my thirties, life brought more challenges, I just thought I could, in time, overcome them. Asking for help was not in my options, I could do it alone, I always had. But there was a difference in that these new challenges were personal to me. I had always dealt with the problems of others, but I came to learn that dealing with my own was another matter, of which I knew little.
My personal difficulties began with a failed business venture, spearheaded by a partner, in 1990. However, the law firm we established in 1989 became successful. It took many long days and nights, over many years, but the financial rewards were realized.
But the most traumatic event that put me on the path to having depression, from what my doctor, Dr. DEB, and I determined, was the death of my father in February of 1992.
I was close to my father. We spoke everyday and saw each other most days. Our respective jobs brought us into contact as well. He was a real estate agent, I practiced real estate law.
Growing up, and still to this day, my family was and is close knit. We always had dinner together when I was young. We would talk about the day's events. Holidays were a special time, whether it was around Nova Scotia, a trip south, or seeing a baseball game in Montreal. These times were important. As well, we all had a love of politics, which during the Trudeau years, made for exciting times.
The actual signs of depression are now easy to see. I think I could identify problems, but I made no link to an illness. I knew thing's weren't going well for me, but I dismissed it as just a bad day. I just didn't understand that after 100's of bad days , that it was more.
Well, perhaps one of the first signs of my developing depression was that I started withdrawing from my friends. I had always enjoyed my alone time, but I also had many friends. Some friends were important and close to me, others were, as I call them, 9-5 friends.
Some of my best friends live overseas. We attended university together in 1986-87, all being foreign students, so having that in common brought us together. We kept in touch, on the telephone, letters ( in the days before email ), and spending holidays together. Then gradually, I stopped communicating with them. So, that, within a few years, these relationships were no more.
As well, one university classmate from undergrad, who lived just a few hours away was cut out. We were pretty tight in the good years of my life. I enjoyed our times together because we didn't always talk shop, we had common interests beyond work. But slowly, this went away too.
Lunch time became a solo time. Given how hard I worked and the long hours, I made a point of going for lunch. It was a much needed break in a usually hectic day, a time to breathe and chat with friends. But gradually, I stopped going out to eat with people. When asked out, I had an excuse. Then eventually, the invitations stopped, as to be expected.
I would eat alone in my vehicle. I would get a plain bagel and a bottle of water, and eat it as I drove around. When I didn't have the energy to drive, I would eat in a parking lot, hidden among the other vehicles, hoping that no one would see me and want to talk. I couldn't be part of the world for that half hour. I could eat alone and think that I could disappear for a brief moment. It became my means to hide during the day, week after week.
Another means of avoiding people was to shop for groceries on Monday evenings when, hopefully, the store would be quiet. I can now say I avoided people because with a clear mind, I can recognize that behaviour.
As well, I can look back and shake my head, I had such a twisted way of thinking with regard to certain things. A prime example was the insomnia that set in and the reasons I had for not sleeping.
What a horrible sleeping routine I had for years. On Sunday night/ Monday morning, I would be awake until 5-6 in the morning, then sleep until 7:30, then get up and go to work. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday nights/ mornings were the same. The exhaustion was overwhelming , but I still would not sleep. By Thursday and then Friday, the lack of sleep would finally get to me and I would crash. I would get some rest on the weekend. But then, along comes Sunday, the routine repeats. This occurred on a regular basis for weeks, going into months and years. I would get a normal week's sleep once in awhile.
So, why would I not sleep. At the time, I certainly wasn't happy. I had a poor outlook on my life, nothing was going well. I looked forward to very little. I hated to face the next day, the work, the people, the demands, the pressures. I had no fun at work or after work. Now, this is where depression set in to mess up my thinking, there is no logic involved. By staying awake late into the night/ morning, I thought it would put off the next day's beginning. If I slept, the next day would come quicker. So, I stayed awake, hoping for tomorrow not to come.
Tears became a regular event. They would flow from when I left my house to when I drove into the office parking lot. I would walk into the office and pretend to be in a good mood. Pretending is exhausting. Then after a long day of work, more tears while driving to my house, well into the night. This went on for weeks and months.
Since I was a child, I loved to read. Even during my university days, I still read books not related to my studies. As I studied law, I would read books on evolution, physics, or politics. Book shops were one of my havens, whether it was Waterstone's, Barnes& Nobles or the used book shop around the corner.
But as my depression progressed, I found that I couldn't focus well enough to read, concentration was just not available. I would read for twenty minutes, then stop, realizing that I had no idea what I had just read. My work required lots of reading, which I could do, but I couldn't read for enjoyment. I would buy the books, and they would find a place in a book case, unread.
Another indication of the impact of depression was on my last true relationship. We met a few years before my diagnosis. She was quite possibly the most interesting, exciting, attractive, certainly the most fun, woman I had dated. But as my depression wrapped around my mind, and thus my life, I grew distant from her. I was not able to commit to many things, whether it was a trip or dinner tomorrow night. My non-existent self worth prevented me from accepting the relationship as actually happening. I thought I didn't deserve to be happy. I remember saying to her early on that she intimidated me, a sure sign of depression. We were in touch throughout my breakdown period. I now know that that relationship had great potential, but it was taken away by my depression. So, D., we were short changed.
So, now with a healthy mind, I can easily identify the symptoms of depression I experienced. The above are the more pronounced signs , but there were more.
A physical pain I can handle, but a mental pain is different. The pain was my mind breaking into pieces. The exhaustion, the angst were overwhelming. Depression had taken hold.
Keith
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
My First Post
By way of background, I was a lawyer who was struck by depression. I was diagnosed on March 7, 2003. This blog gives me an opportunity to discuss my mental illness. I never had any difficulty in acknowledging that I had depression. Soon after being diagnosed, I wanted such a voice, but I first had to get mentally well enough to do so.
Now, this blog will consist of my views of depression, it's impact on both my personal and professional lives. There will be lots of factual situations that describe my illness; some of my opinions on my life and the lives of others; and some rants probably.
So, this is the start.
Now, this blog will consist of my views of depression, it's impact on both my personal and professional lives. There will be lots of factual situations that describe my illness; some of my opinions on my life and the lives of others; and some rants probably.
So, this is the start.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
