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.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
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
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