In Loving Memory of my Sister Rachel

It was three weeks ago today that I got that dreaded call, the call that my oldest sister, Rachel, was found unconscious, but breathing, on her bathroom floor.  Much has changed since then, we said goodbye to God’s newest Angel on December 17^th, 2017, and it all still seems surreal.  The four days that we had to say our final goodbyes helped, but only time will heal the void left by her passing. 

It was an AVM (arteriovenous malformation) on the left side of the brain, basically a birth defect which started to bleed, that took my loving sister away, and it’s comforting to know that she would not have suffered, that she would have been unconscious from the minute the bleed started.  Less comforting is the fact that the bleed was fatal from the minute it started, that there was absolutely nothing that could be done to save her.  AVM’s are rare, and virtually invisible without some kind of neurological scan, and unfortunately, Rachel was unaware that she had such a condition.

Rachel was more than a sister, she was a friend, we shared many friends and did many things together.  She was a kind, caring, and giving person, giving of herself until it hurt, and many times, even beyond that.  She had her flaws, who doesn’t, but the goodness in her far outweighed the flaws, and if anybody ever deserved to be an Angel, Rachel did.  Even in death, Rachel gave of herself, having registered as an organ donor, a caring gesture which saw five recipients being blessed with a wonderful Christmas/Holidays season.  This gift of herself also brought us an extra three days to be with her, to love her to the end, and to say a proper goodbye.

I have many fond memories of Rachel, far too many to list them all, but the fondest memories are those of Christmases past, you see Rachel loved Christmas and loved to entertain at Christmas, and she would go all out with the decorating and put out quite a spread.  She would open her home to friends who would be alone for Christmas, and we always had a wonderful time.  She was especially looking forward to this Christmas, having done all her Christmas shopping and having planned, and purchased everything she needed for her Christmas spread, but unfortunately it wasn’t to be, God called Rachel home a week before Christmas.

Some of life’s most important lessons, I learned from watching Rachel.  She didn’t have an easy life, living on a small amount of money each month, but she always made the most of it, and never complained about not having enough.  ‘Accept what is’, ‘forgive and forget’, ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’, and ‘forgive yourself’, were not just mottos for Rachel, they were a way of life for her.  I am absolutely grateful for these, and for all of the life lessons I learned  from my sister Rachel. 

A warm thank you to Dr Matheson, and all the Emergency Room staff at St. Joseph’s General Hospital in Elliot Lake, to Dr Sauve and all the warm and caring staff of the Medical/Surgical ICU at Health Sciences North in Sudbury, and an especially warm thank you to Janice and Justin from the Trillium Gift of Life Network, for the wonderful care and compassion, Rachel and our family received.  A heartfelt Thank you goes out to Tracy and Joel, Nicky, Maureen, Sandy, Helen. Audrey, and Kim, for all you’ve done to ease our family through this, you are all wonderful people and our family is absolutely grateful to you!

Rachel, I love you, and miss you immensely.  Thank you for being a loving sister, a wonderful friend, and a firm but loving mentor.  Rest in peace, lovely Rachel! 

Love you all very much!

Luc

Slaying those Dragons – Part Four

In February of 2016, I had a total meltdown, a little over a year before I passed out at my dining room table and even though I didn’t feel it go off, I knew that my ICD had fired, and I ended up in the hospital for a few weeks, this started my mind thinking that I was going to die, setting things up for my meltdown.

This was the worst manifestation of my anxiety/depression/PTSD ever, I was a total mess and couldn’t even be trusted on my own so I ended up living with my sister for almost three months.  Convinced that I was going to die, I totally gave up on life and couldn’t care for myself, and yes at that point I even considered suicide but didn’t have the courage to go through with it.  I ended up in counseling again, this time with a Social Worker who practices CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) which was a Godsend!

Unlike conventional psychotherapy, CBT does not concern itself with the past, it focuses on your thoughts, feelings, and actions in the now, and teaches you tools to assess and change them.  My CBT counselor, Melissa, was the best thing to ever happen to me and I progressed rapidly, too rapidly I think, I would have benefited from more sessions.  A few months of CBT and I felt good as new, and armed with my new tools I set off on my own to work the program, so to speak.  I did well, for a little while at least I did my journal, broke into silly songs at any given time, and I smiled a lot.  I felt great and like most people in my situation, I thought I was cured and stopped using the CBT tools.

Recently there was another crisis, partly because I stopped doing what I should, and partly because of a whole bunch of circumstances which popped into my life over a short period of time.  Much of this crisis was a crisis of faith, I stopped believing in myself and in my Higher Power, there was also the self-care issue which reared it’s ugly head again, and a short foray in online gambling which I nipped in the bud as soon as I realized it was becoming problematic.

Realizing that I needed help again, I reached out to my sister, to a crisis counselor and even called the crisis line when I felt overwhelmed.  I am currently in conventional counseling, in the process of getting back into CBT, and a recovery plan was set in place which I intend to follow diligently.  These are valuable tools but this time I want to slay the dragons of depression, anxiety, and PTSD once and for all so I added a few unconventional tools to my arsenal, and guess what, they are helping immensely. Here are some of them.

1- Writing Therapy:  I am a writer and so I write but most of what I write usually is more contemporary like fiction or general interest, and I include some feelings, but recently I focused my writing on my feelings.  What a blessing this has been.  Writing this series/mini-memoir has been very therapeutic to me.

2- Bibliotherapy:  Reading the right books has helped me to focus on the positive aspects of life.  I have reread, You Are a Badass, by Jen Sincero, this time applying the principles to my life, other great reads included, Living Big, and, Thank and Grow Rich, by Pam Grout.  I would highly recommend a course of bibliotherapy for anyone who is struggling with any kind of dragon whatsoever.

3- Gratitude Therapy:  I’ve completed two gratitude challenges, one in which I had to write twenty-one things I was grateful for, for twenty-one days, and the other a seven-day challenge where I had to write seven things every day for seven days that I was grateful for in the future, looking back at my current situation and seeing things resolved.  They say it takes twenty-one days for a new habit to take hold, and gratitude has definitely taken hold of my life.  I have extended my expressions of gratitude to my own Facebook page, ending each day with a gratitude list of three things I am grateful for.  These gratitude challenges were the most powerful tool so far in my arsenal against my dragons.

What happens next, I don’t know!  I will keep doing my best, gathering and applying tools, and hope that once and for all I have slain those dragons.  My truth is out there, do with it as you want, I wrote this on the advice of a friend and I’m truly grateful for having done it, it has helped me immensely to write it.  If my story inspires even just one person to reach out for help, or helps even one person to understand the struggles faced by people with a mental illness, then I consider myself wonderfully blessed, and I’m truly grateful

Love you all!

Luc

Slaying those Dragons – Part Three

I didn’t stick with counseling too long, I started feeling better and I pulled out, huge mistake!  I did okay for about six months afterward, the depression had settled and life for every practical purpose was good, there were problems but they were manageable.  I stopped doing what I needed to do and the depression started creeping in a little at a time, and before too long, I was in its full throes again.

I started isolating again, was always tired, stopped taking care of myself and my home, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that my home was a disaster area.  It shames me to share this just as much as it shamed me to have to go to counseling again and admit what I thought was my weakness, so I didn’t!  I suffered in silence for a few years, making excuses when my family or friends wanted to come over, and buried myself in my shame and guilt. 

While I was secretly praying to die, that was my answer to attempted suicide, I put on a brave face whenever I had to face the world, and acted as if everything was absolutely perfect in my life.  I could have, and should have won an Oscar for that performance, I was just that good at it, nobody suspected anything and I could return to my messy home without fear of being bothered.  And this was my life for a few years.

Prayers are powerful, it doesn’t matter whether your prayers are good, bad, or indifferent.  When they say, ‘be careful what you pray for’, they seem to know what they are talking about because my prayers to die did not go unheeded.  On November 30^th, 2007, I suffered a sudden cardiac death, and was clinically dead from five to seven minutes. Now, I don’t remember anything about that day, or the week before, or a few weeks after, but the trauma of death still affects me to this day.

They discovered that I had a heart condition which made me prone to arrhythmias, or unusually fast heartbeats, and that I could quickly jump into fibrillation, when the heart just flutters and can’t pump any blood.  I was sent to St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto where they implanted an ICD (Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator in my chest, yes, I now come with my own paddles, stand back everyone.

On January 18^th, 2008, my fancy schmancy ICD malfunctioned, giving my heart five shocks I didn't need, and sent my heart into a tailspin.  This trauma would result in a diagnosis of PTSD about a year later.  During the year following the misfire, I spent more time in a hospital bed than I did in my own, not because I needed to be there but because anxiety had set in and I misconstrued every irregular heartbeat, cramp, or pain in my chest (overlooking the fact that I had a cracked sternum), and basically camped out in the Emergency room.

It took the courage of one brave doctor, Dr. Groh, to stand up to me and tell me that there was nothing wrong with my heart but if I kept it up there would be.  She noted her observations and sent them to my family doctor who started the process of assessing my depression and anxiety.  The result was a course of pharmacotherapy which helped me immensely.

Now, I know that some people staunchly oppose pharmacotherapy, advocating instead for more natural treatments, and I will be the first to admit that nutrition and exercise are just as crucial as medication for the treatment of depression, anxiety, and PTSD.  I will not engage in an argument about supplements vs medication because what works for one may not work for another, when it comes to physical health and mental health, I think a balance of both is extremely beneficial.  Pharmacotherapy was a very valuable tool in helping me deal with my condition and I would recommend it despite the naysayers.

When all is said and done, the important thing is to get well, and I think we owe it to ourselves to keep an open mind, and try every solution before we dismiss them as quackery.  Next Sunday, in the final installment, I will discuss my latest bout of depression, and the unconventional but effective tools that I found helpful in dealing with it.

Love you all!

Luc

Slaying those Dragons – Part Two

In May of 2004 I had a heart attack, not a massive one mind you, it was relatively mild but serious enough to stir up some psychological problems.  In all candor, this was the start of many of the bigger symptoms of depression, the depression was already there but it got a little worse.  Until then, I really felt like I was ten foot tall and bulletproof, the heart attack cut me down to size and reminded me that I was a mere mortal, just like everyone else, what a shock to my system.

Until then, I had been living erratically, busying myself more than anybody should ever be busy if they want to maintain a healthy life.  I was working full-time, active on several boards and committees, and my life was go-go-go, all the time.  I would grab a burger and fries in between meetings and catch a nap when I could, sleep and a healthy diet was at a premium.  I used all my vacation time on board activities, never taking time for myself, the surprise really wasn’t that I crashed, it was that I lasted so long before I did.

After the heart attack I became obsessed with living to the fullest, I mean really obsessed.  I should have slowed down but I didn’t, I just made trivial changes to my eating and sleeping habits , and kept on going.  What did change however, was my penchant for self-care, and for the condition of my home.  Hey, I had to sleep didn’t I, after all I had a bad heart, I really didn’t but self-pity overruled the doctor’s opinion.

My fear of dying didn’t kick in full-force until my sister Suzanne died suddenly of heart complications on September 26, 2005.  I was close to my sister and the grief over her death really threw me into a tailspin.  It was then that I reached out to a counseling agency for help.

People who need counselors tend to fear them, I know I did.  The fear of having to discuss your life with a stranger is normal, but it’s necessary if recovery is to take place.  Counseling has been one of the greatest tools in my ongoing battle with depression and PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).  A few months with a counselor and things started falling back into place for me. 

It’s hard, I know, to reach out when you are feeling stuck, but reaching out is the most important thing to do at that time.  At the time, my family was dealing with their own grief and their own issues, and I had entangled them so much in my web of self-pity that I didn’t feel it wise to reach out to them so I reached out directly to a counseling agency.  It didn’t really matter who I reached out to, I needed help and help was there.  If there’s nobody that you feel you can reach out to, family, friend, etc., there are crisis counselors, and crisis lines available in just about any location, and they are trained to help you, I know, I’ve used both in my current crisis and they helped me a lot.

I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to reach out to someone when you feel you’ve run out of options, reaching out is tool number one in my toolbox, and if there’s no one for you to reach out to, reach out to me at rivet.luc@gmail.com.  It would be my privilege to set up a time convenient for both of us so that we could talk.

Talking to someone who understands, is tool number two, whether it be a friend, a crisis line, a counselor, a support group, or someone who has been through the same situation, talking helps a lot.  You don’t have to suffer in silence, reach out and touch someone, as the phone company slogan says.

Love you all!

Luc 

Slaying those Dragons – Part One

Where does it all begin, I guess I may never know, there are hints in my childhood that I was different, that maybe, just maybe things weren’t quite as okay as I pretended they were, but what was the precipitator, I really don’t know.  My childhood wasn’t normal, though I blame nobody but myself, sure there were problems growing up but my brother and sisters seem to have coped with them much better than I did.  My choice of coping mechanism was to isolate myself, to lock myself away in the privacy of my room and pretend that I was anybody other than myself.  Those are my earliest memories so obviously it began earlier than that.

I guess it really doesn’t matter where and when it all began, what matters is that for most of my life I struggled with some form of depression or another.  There have been periods of reprieve but being unaware of what was wrong with me, those periods were mostly short-lived.  From isolating myself in my room, I mastered the art of pretending, and pretending that everything was okay became second nature to me, so for the most part, nobody knew that I was struggling.

Imagine wearing a one hundred pound weight on each shoulder, and you just might start to understand how debilitating depression is, except the weight is actually in mind, and you get so used to carrying it around that you forget it’s there, or at least pretend that it isn’t.  Some would say that denial is a common symptom of depression but I would argue that it isn’t, we are very much aware of its presence, we know something is wrong with us, but we are afraid to tell anyone for fear of being judged as crazy. 

Crazy, yes, I’ve felt like I was crazy at times, and it caused me to retreat even deeper into a mind that kept telling me I was.  The hamster wheel, the damn hamster wheel, keeps spinning round and round, injecting more and more lies into your troubled mind.  Thoughts like, I’m not worthy, I’m not good enough, I’m too fat, I’m too dumb, etc. filled my waking hours, shattering every ounce of self-esteem I had, destroying all traces of self-worth and self-respect.  Believing those lies, I gave up, stopped caring for myself, for my appearance, and for my living environment, and the more I stopped caring, the more I believed those lies. 

In all truth, the only time I felt good was when I was doing something for others, helping them with their struggles and needs became my drug.  I sought other comfort as well, and found it in drinking.  I was introduced to drinking at a very young age, and from that introduction until the very end of my drinking, I can honestly say that I hated the taste but loved the feeling.  Alcohol did something to me, it was good at first, giving me the ability to step out of myself and have fun but that period of my drinking was short lived.  Near the end of my relatively short drinking career, alcohol turned me into a whiner and complainer, made my lips loose, and got me in trouble.  I quit drinking on August 8^th, 1991, and haven’t had to pick up a drink since then.

Addiction often times goes hand-in-hand with depression because we are open to anything that helps us forget, that pulls us out of ourselves, and distracts our minds for any period of time. Whether we turn to substances, gambling, shopping, or even work addiction, we quickly learn that it’s a temporary ‘fix’, and not really an effective one.  Unfortunately, kicking our addiction to the curve is often times a harder process than dealing with our depression.

Depression really is like a dragon, in its active phase it spews streams of fiery thoughts into an already overburdened mind, and when the flame dies down, it knocks you down with its massive, powerful tail, but there is hope, the dragon can be slain.  Starting Sunday, I will focus on the tools that have helped me not only with depression, but also with other struggles I have faced.  See you Sunday!

Love you all!

Luc

Slaying Those Dragons - Introduction

There are things I’d never do as a writer, things I would never say or publish, things such as gossip, or anything that may shine a dark light on the people I care about, which is just about everyone, but I have no qualms about writing about my own struggles, my own monsters!  I know that some people think that I cross the line between what should be public and what should remain private when I blog, and I’ll concede that perhaps I do, but it’s always done with diligence and care, and for what I believe is a valid reason.  The thing is, too many people choose to remain silent on issues which could help others realize that they are not alone, that there is hope, I choose not to be the silent one!  Besides, it’s therapeutic for me to share what I am, or have been going through.  I offer these sharings, not for pity, but for information, in hopes that they may help someone who is suffering in silence.

My life is not different than most peoples’ lives, I have great days, in-between days, and bad days, but I have learned some valuable tools along the way to help me cope, though there are still many tools left to discover and if you happen to know one or two, by all means, please share them with me.  Now, I could simply blog a list of these tools I’ve learned, some would say that’s nice, others would say I’m crazy because without context these tools will mean nothing to the still suffering person.  The only context I am free to give is that which comes from my own life, everybody else’s life is none of my business unless of course, they give me permission to talk about it.  For now, at least, I will stick with my own life, my own struggles, and my own solutions.

This blog post, although somewhat different from my others, is an introduction to a series of blog posts that I intend to publish on Wednesdays and Sundays over the next few weeks, highlighting different struggles I have faced and how I am, or have resolved them.  This series is dedicated to you, my readers, and to the countless people facing their own struggles, may peace and serenity find you now!

Love you all!

Luc

Oh Silly Me

It’s time to change things, and I’m not just talking about socks and underwear, although both those things are important, I’m talking about bigger, better, changes.  In the greater scheme of things, I am responsible for my humdrum life, nobody else is, and I’m the only one who can transform it into something absolutely wonderful.  These changes are not necessarily new, I’ve lived many of them in the past but somehow moved away from them.  My life was healthier and happier when I was living those changes, and it’s definitely time to put the sparkle back in my life.

I had a motto back then, nothing fancy, but it worked for me.  My motto was, “If it’s got to be done, it’s got to be fun!”  I had a coffee mug which read, “Life is too important to be taken seriously,” and that mug kept me grounded in the right attitude to have fun, no matter what.  I would use silly voices when complaining, just to remind myself not to take myself so seriously, and I would sing a repertoire of silly songs while I worked, much to the peril of my coworkers who were generous enough to say they didn’t mind even though I couldn’t sing.  I always walked around with a smile in those days, something that is lacking in my life these days.

I would dress sharply, and tell myself in the mirror every morning how lovable I was, and guess what, I came to believe it!  I felt more comfortable around people and had a good social life, things I miss dearly.  I told jokes, acted silly, said good day to the people I passed in the street, or anywhere for that matter, and I had goals and aspirations that I actively pursued, and life was wonderful

Whether it was depression or complacency which moved me away from those things, I’m not certain, but whatever it was, it has to stop.  Life was good when I was doing those things and it’s time to bring them back.  It’s time to get my groove back and let my silliness show.  According to Pam Grout, author of, Living Big, E Squared, and E Cubed, “The word silly was originally a Middle English word, ‘sillig’, that meant blessing.”  That would explain why when I let my silliness come out to play, I feel so blessed.

I’m not quite ready to march down the street singing silly, yes, she suggests that, not yet anyways but you can bet your booties that from this moment forward, I’m incorporating fun and silliness back into my life, and my old motto, ‘If it’s got to be done, it’s got to be fun,’ is born again as my new motto.  If you happen to overhear me sing while working, or if you see me dancing down Ontario Avenue, or if you hear me complaining in a silly voice, don’t judge me, join me!  We can all use a little fun in our lives, can’t we?

Love you all,

Luc