Tag Archives: Depression

A Depression Nap…or Just a Nap?

Is there such a thing as a “Depression Nap”? I’ve certainly heard the term through my advocacy. I never really knew what it was. I do know that when I was going through my second major bout of depression in 2013, my psychologist had shared with me that I needed to rest…I needed to take naps. He explained it as a brain injury and shared with me that the brain needed its down time.

Oh boy did I run with that one with my wife. I’d slowly, emotionlessly drag myself off of the couch, where I had been sitting, not knowing what to do or what to say and share with my wife, “I’m just going to go upstairs for a nap…my therapist said I need to rest”. There, behind the safety of my bedroom, door closed to my wife and four small children…and to the world really, I would lie down. I’d close my eyes and I’d roll around for about three hours, wishing so desperately that I could sleep.

I’d finally drag myself back downstairs, trying to convince myself that somehow, even without getting a wink of sleep, I must be rested from laying down for so long. I’d slowly make my way back to the couch. That or I’d follow my wife around at her hip, not knowing what to do with myself. Having taken time off from work, I’d try to create a very short to-do list. Maybe I could clean one bathroom or do a load of laundry. But I couldn’t. So, I spiraled down further into self negativity, beating myself up.

I’d even lay down next to my oldest kid (seven at the time) when it was her bedtime, as I had done when I was healthy. Only, when I was healthy, my wife would wake me up fifteen minutes later, we’d chuckle that I had fallen asleep and I’d go on with my routine for the evening before bed. Not this time. Not these days, these months of a deep, dark depression. I’d lay down by my daughter, she’d fall asleep, and I didn’t want to move. I knew that if I stayed there long enough, perhaps it would be late enough by the time I got up from her bed that I would be able to retreat back to the safety and security of my own room and go to bed (not to sleep, that just wasn’t happening).

It actually got to the point that I would literally feel angst and anxiety just walking past my bed, looking at it, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep next time I’d try. I was actually angry at my bed, as if it was my bed’s fault that I couldn’t sleep. I think at my worst I was getting about ten hours of sleep…for the week.

What’s funny is, I really love naps. I mean, when I’m healthy. As an educator, I typically get summers off. I LOVE lying down on the couch, a warm, fuzzy blanket on my legs and the breeze from the overhead fan on me. Catching a thirty-minute nap or so would feel so comforting to me and I’d wake up rejuvenated. I have no problem admitting that my love of naps could certainly do with me recently entering my fifties.

At any rate, at the current time we’re living in, it’s easy to fall into a depression and I so desperately do not want that to happen. I’ve only had two bouts of major depression and would never wish it upon my worst enemy…no joke. Seriously. So while I don’t live in fear of the possibility of another major depression, I’m surely conscious of the possibility. So…I’m recognizing some of my current stressors. Last December my father passed away. Last February our school district went on strike (I wasn’t on strike, as I’m an administrator), the teachers came back for one day (really in order to be able to receive health benefits, as they could see what was about to happen), we then went quickly into distance learning. Very soon thereafter, George Floyd was murdered at the hands of the police. I live, with my wife and four kids, in Minneapolis only three blocks south of Lake Street and less than a mile from the 3rd precinct (both locations that I would imagine most people in the US have heard of now due to the riots). We’re now starting a new school year, welcoming new staff and students virtually. So…it makes sense to me if I’m feeling down.

And this is where we get back to naps. Just the other day after dinner, my four kids went on their way to do their own things until it was bedtime. I’ve been reading to my youngest daughter and, ever since I once dozed and made up some nonsensical words (not to be funny, but because I was practically dreaming while reading), she’ll let me know I could take a short power nap after dinner so that I don’t fall asleep reading to her. And I’ve done that on a really tired night or two. And it’s felt good and I get right up and read and then continue my evening doing some work (or podcasting). The other night, however, it was different. I know I was feeling down, feeling overwhelmed. I wanted desperately to lay down on that comfy couch and take a snooze. But it wasn’t about getting rejuvenated to read with my daughter. It felt different. I could tell I felt that I needed to escape. To shut myself off from the world and to not think of anything that was causing me stress. I pushed back very hard on the nap that evening. Normally I wouldn’t. But again, this was different. I knew that the feeling of needing to shut myself off from the world was a sign that I could be slowly entering a depression. I could NOT let that happen. Having gone through two bouts of depression and advocating around mental health for four or five years now has given me many strategies. That night, I decided there was no way I was going to lay down. I’m not sure that I would have woken up to read with my daughter. I pushed against my desire to nap and instead took our dog out for a walk. I walked for a good hour, felt rejuvenated and proud that I had resisted the temptation to nap. I knew that had I napped, I would have beat myself up about the nap, especially if I hadn’t been able to get up to read to my daughter.

So…is there such a thing as a “Depression Nap”? Is it different from a typical nap? I now say a resounding, “Yes!” I believe there’s quite a difference. How about you?

Thank you for taking the time to read my post. As with all of my posts, questions and comments are welcomed and encouraged.

Guest Post: Depression–A Cancer Survivor’s Story

On my testicular cancer awareness blog, A Ballsy Sense of Tumor, I have written extensively what it’s like to experience depression as a cancer survivor. I eventually recognized the signs, asked for help, and went on antidepressants. While I am happy to say they are definitely working, I only knew to ask for them since this wasn’t my first time battling depression.

I’ve alluded to this in past writings, but I fought with clinical depression during my sophomore and junior years in high school. However, I’ve never written a full account of this trying time, and in the wake of the unfortunate events with Anthony Bourdain, Kate Spade, and countless others throughout the past decade, I’m ready to take that leap in hopes of letting someone else know to ask for help.

For context, I grew up in an upper-middle class family. I am the oldest of three kids and my parents are still together. I was in the gifted program since third grade, participated in a number of sports, and school came rather easy to me. In essence, I was the definition of privilege and from the outside, I had no “reason” to be unhappy.

It started slowly enough. Around the start of sophomore year, I realized I was increasingly feeling sad and hopeless. Nothing seemed to bring me joy and I always managed to find the negative in every situation. I couldn’t figure out why this was happening, but I felt too ashamed to open up, since I had a pretty good life. However, there was a lot of pain inside that I just didn’t know how to manage.

I turned to self-harm to try to let out some of this pain. This is the first time I am publicly admitting this, and before this writing less than five people in the world knew I did this. I didn’t want to cut myself since that would leave marks, which would make it hard to keep under wraps. I had done a stunt previously where I sprayed Axe body spray on my hand and lit it on fire. It didn’t cause pain if you did it as a stunt, but if you let it burn long enough, it hurt like hell. I did this a handful of times. It didn’t seem to help, yet it became a habit.

I suppose I subconsciously wanted to let some of this struggle out. I remember one day I put up an “Away Message” on AOL Instant Messenger that was beyond the scope of the normal, teenage angst. When I returned, one of my friends (who I later found out had depression himself) had said, “Um, Justin, you might be depressed.” Even though I was self-harming from time to time, I didn’t believe that I could be depressed. Again – I had a good life; what right did I have to be depressed?

At some point, this internal pain began to be too much. I began thinking that I just didn’t want to live anymore since it was too hard, even though nothing external was “wrong.” I started experiencing thoughts of suicide.

While I never actually attempted it, I had concrete plans on how I would do it. It’s still hard to walk past the area in my parents’ home where I was planning to do it. My little sister is what ended up saving my life. She looks up to me and I didn’t want to let her down. My love for her was stronger than my hate for myself.

Reaching this point was a pivotal moment. I finally admitted something was wrong and I needed help. Yet, I didn’t know how to ask. I decided to stop wearing a mask of being ok on the outside. I moved a little slower. Sighed a little bit more. Smiled less. One day, I flopped down dramatically on the couch and my mom finally asked if I wanted to talk to a therapist. Even though I was most likely weeks away from taking my own life, I couldn’t directly ask.

I agreed to get help and began seeing a therapist. I continued harming myself throughout the first first few sessions and thoughts of suicide still lingered. Eventually, I admitted both of these to the therapist and we decided to start me on a course of antidepressants.

Initially, my dosage was wrong and I experienced a panic attack not too long after beginning them. I freaked out because my mom told me to go to bed and I wasn’t ready yet. I locked myself in my room and began hyperventilating. My dad literally kicked down my door and carried me outside to get fresh air. I calmed down, the doctors adjusted my meds, and the meds took hold. I continued going to the therapist and this one-two punch of medication and therapy helped raise me out of depression.

I don’t remember exactly when I got off of the medication, but it was an uneventful process. I did not slip back into depression, and had no problems coming off of them.

While this experience was probably the hardest in my life, and that’s saying a lot since I faced testicular cancer at 25, it ended up helping me recognize the symptoms early on during my survivorship phase of cancer.

I know that that having depression at a young age puts me at risk for a recurrence later in life, and this study from 2017 that said about 20% of cancer survivors experience PTSD symptoms within six months of diagnosis. The CDC also reports that cancer survivors take anxiety and depression medication at almost twice the rate of the general population. Basically, it was a perfect storm of risk factors and I’m glad I knew these figures.

This time, I asked for help and antidepressants. I’m happy to say I am still on the meds and not feeling effects of depression. Experiencing the episode in high school helped me advocate for myself earlier before it got worse.

In addition to being a testicular cancer survivor, I am a fourth grade teacher. I noticed one of my students seemed very upset, distant, and prone to tears. I requested a conference with his parents to discuss these episodes and tried to recommend they take him for a further evaluation. They told me that they give him everything they wanted, love him unconditionally, and he has no reason to be sad. In a moment of “I’m not sure I should do this,” I shared that I what I had experienced (leaving out the self-harm and thoughts of suicide parts), since I had “no reason to be sad” too. I saw something change in their eyes and I hope it may have paid off.

You can’t always tell if someone is experiencing depression from the outside. Like I said, I had a prime life and no real reason to be upset. Depression is a chemical imbalance in your brain and it’s always influenced by external factors. Asking if a person is feeling okay won’t always work, either. They might not even be aware of their own feelings or may hide it out of a certain feeling of stigma. My best advice is to be there for that individual and to be non-judgemental. In 2018, we should be treating mental health as a serious issue and stop the stigma surrounding it.

I hope by sharing my story, even one person realizes that it’s okay to ask for help and doesn’t feel they need to suffer in silence. I compare taking care of mental health to needing chemo for cancer or a cast for a broken arm. No one would blink twice about treating either of those conditions, but why does society not have the same attitude towards mental health?

About the Author

Justin High School.jpg

Justin, in his high school days, with his favorite teacher

Justin Birckbichler is a men’s health activist, testicular cancer survivor, and the founder of aBallsySenseofTumor.com. From being diagnosed in November 2016 at the age of 25, to finishing chemo in January 2017, to being cleared in remission in March, he has been passionate about sharing his story to spread awareness about testicular cancer and promote open conversation about men’s health.

In addition to his work through ABSOT, Justin’s writing has appeared in Cure Magazine, I Had Cancer, The Mighty, The Good Men Project, Stupid Cancer, and more. His work with awareness of men’s health has been featured by Healthline, Ball Boys, and various other organizations. In 2017, ABSOT won an award for the Best Advocacy and Awareness Cancer Blog in 2017 and Justin was recognized as one of 15 People Who Raised Cancer Awareness in 2017. He was also one of the selected attendees of HealtheVoices18.

Justin also serves as a member of the Strategic Advisory Board for the Cancer Knowledge Network and as a board member of the Young Adult Cancer Survivor Advisory Board for Lacuna Loft.

Outside of the “cancer world,” Justin is a teacher, amateur chef, technology aficionado and avid reader. He lives in Fredericksburg, VA with his wife, cat, and dog.

Connect with him on Instagram (@aballsysenseoftumor), on Twitter (@absotTC), on Facebook (Facebook.com/aballsysenseoftumor), on YouTube, or via email (justin@aballsysenseoftumor.com).

A Mental Health Survey for Public School Educators

I have felt quite strongly that there is a great need for more mental health support for educators. When I started to research the topic, I was surprised to see that not only was the profession of teacher/educator not on any of the top ten lists for jobs with the highest suicide rate, but they weren’t even in the top twenty (CBS News: These Jobs Have the Highest Rates of Suicide).

I researched further and found several articles that described the mental health needs of educators in England. This only strengthened my belief that England is much further ahead in the world of advocacy around mental health. The recent Project Eighty Four is just one example in which Calm brought the topic of male suicide to the rooftops (quite literally)!

I decided to put together a survey of my own to prove a hypothesis that I had developed: I believe there is a very high number of educators who are struggling with their mental health. I believe that, particularly in the urban settings, many staff members are dealing with students who are going in and out of complex trauma on a daily basis. This includes the type of trauma in these young people’s lives that I cannot even begin to fathom. The fact that many of them have even made it to school is mind-boggling. Even students who are not going in and out of trauma are, often times these days, facing mental health challenges as seen by the data. In 2016, suicide was the second leading cause of death for groups aged 10-14 and 15-24 (https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/suicide.shtml). Many of our students cannot get the medication they need because of various reasons, including a lack of insurance. Others are on month-long waiting lists to get a proper assessment or to find a bed in a facility because they are suicidal. Yet, with all of these challenges, we expect our students to show up to our schools, sit in their chairs quietly, and perform well on our standardized tests (or we could have detrimental repercussions from the federal government, such as the loss of public funds). There’s a shortage of school social workers and school counselors. Not only does this create an unrealistic student to social worker/school counselor ratio adding to their stress, but it also puts classroom teachers in the situation of having to ‘play’ counselor or social worker. Many times our school nurses are dealing more with psychosomatic symptoms than anything actually physical. Building administrators are faced with deciding on consequences for students who they know are facing incredible life challenges. They are also dealing with parents or guardians who are often times dealing with their own life struggles and mental health difficulties.

So, this brings me back to my survey. I created a survey to send to public school educators (staff of any positions in a public school system in the United States). Just prior to making my very brief, confidential survey of eight questions public, I bumped into another survey that had revolved around the mental health of educators: the 2017 Educator Quality of Work Life Survey. This was a 30-question survey conducted by the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) and the Badass Teachers Association (BATs). Some of the key findings that stood out to me from their survey results were:

  • Teachers reported having poor mental health for 11 or more days per month at twice the rate of the general U.S. workforce. They also reported lower-than-rec-ommended levels of health outcomes and sleep per night.
  • In response to the question “How often is work stressful?” nearly a quarter of respondents said “always”.
  • Educators and school staff find their work “always” or “often” stressful 61 percent of the time, significantly higher than workers in the general population, who report
    that work is “always” or “often”stressful only 30 percent of the time.
  • Educators are much more likely to be bullied, harassed and threatened at work than other workers.
    • 43 percent of respondents in the public survey group reported they had been bullied, harassed or threatened in the last year.
  • Teachers and school staff are significantly more stressed than other U.S. workers:
    • Respondents to the public survey reported an…average of 12 days in the last 30 that their mental health was not good
    • 21 percent of educators in the random sample characterized their mental health as not good for 11 or more days in the last 30, significantly higher than U.S. workers generally, less than 10 percent of whom reported poor mental health for 11 or more days in the past month, according to national data from 2014.
  • Educators’ physical health is more likely to suffer than other U.S. workers

My first thought was that since a survey had been recently completed, perhaps there is no need for my survey. However, after further reflection, I decided that the fact that the AFT and BATs had such a survey was acknowledgement that perhaps my theory had some validity. In addition to that, my survey is quite different. None of the eight questions that I ask were a part of their survey and my questions, I believe, are much more direct in getting to the mental health of educators.

In the end, once the need is made more apparent, my goal is to advocate for a much better system of support for educators. I believe that districts can do much more than simply hand a brochure to a struggling staff member and offer a few sessions of free, confidential counseling. United States public school educators are dealing with an incredible amount of stress in what is arguably one of the most important roles in our country. We can do better…we must do better… to support them!

If you are a public school educator in the United States, please consider taking this very brief (eight question), anonymous, completely confidential survey regarding Mental Health.

As always, comments to this post (and all others) are welcomed and encouraged! Thank you!

Guest Post: Progress with Prozac

The following is a piece written by fellow advocate, Justin Birckbichler. I had the privilege of meeting Justin recently at an incredible conference for online advocates of chronic illnesses, HealtheVoices. The conference was sponsored by Janssen, the pharmaceutical division of Johnson and Johnson, as a way for them to give back to the communities for whom they serve. Justin advocates for testicular cancer. He is an incredible advocate who is knowledgeable, funny, supportive, and caring. He helped me further the work of my own advocacy, as well. Justin also happens to be a teacher!

Read more about Justin at the bottom of this post.

Please note: if you are a man, please consider taking his very short survey for his research on the topic of testicular cancer. A link for the survey is included in his bio.

For now, enjoy this intriguing piece of writing:

Progress with Prozac 

Around the five month mark post chemo, I realized something was not quite right. It wasn’t my new fascination with discussing balls at every opportunity; it was more than that – my mood was not what it should have been. At first, I thought it was just the stress of returning to work and transitioning back to being a normal person instead of a cancer patient.

Upon closer inspection, I realized I was still feeling down, but it was summer, so the job reason didn’t make sense. If you’re not at regular reader of A Ballsy Sense of Tumor, I am a teacher, and teachers don’t work in the summer – that’s the main reason we chose this, duh. (If you’re my principal and you’re reading this, please understand that this is a joke.)

However, a new school year began, and I noticed that I was feeling off and just not as enthusiastic as I once was about teaching. It wasn’t that I hated my job; it was that something internally wasn’t quite right, and it was having an impact on my ability to teach to the best of my abilities. My students were still learning, growing, and seemingly enjoying themselves, so they didn’t appear to notice my internal struggle. Nor did my administrators, who are awesome and amazingly supportive of me, or my co-workers, who are also pretty great and put up with endless ball puns during team meetings. Regrettably, we don’t teach about spheres during the geometry unit.

In addition to feeling slightly off at work, I also realized I was feeling irritable and was much quicker to get angry at home. In October, I experienced a full on panic attack while watching an episode of Stranger Things on Netflix on the eve of my orchiectomyversary. Overall, hobbies like reading and cooking didn’t bring me as much pleasure as they once did, and I just felt generally pretty flat.

As I’ve alluded to numerous times through my writing on ABSOT, I battled with depression in high school. However, since my only job at that point in my life was to be a student (and school had never been a struggle for me, since I was in the gifted program), it didn’t have an impact on my “job.” It dawned on me that I was now feeling some of the same effects I did back them.

Knowing that having depression at a young age puts me at risk for a recurrence later in life, I decided to look into research about cancer survivors and PTSD/depression to fully understand just how stacked the cards were against me. It didn’t bode well when I first typed “cancer survivors and…” into Google, and “PTSD” and “depression” popped up as the first two suggested results (followed by “alcohol”).

As I researched more, I found this study from 2017 that said about 20% of cancer survivors experience PTSD symptoms within six months of diagnosis. The CDC also reports that cancer survivors take anxiety and depression medication at almost twice the rate of the general population.

After finding this information, I decided to ask for help, specifically in the form of antidepressants at my follow up visit in December. Dr. Maurer agreed to prescribe them, and I thought it would be all pretty rainbows and fluffy unicorns immediately.

However, about four weeks later, I felt no different. I knew antidepressants could take up to six weeks to show major changes, but I wasn’t feeling even slightly better. Perhaps I even felt worse, as I had these “happy pills” and I still felt down. Maybe something was just wrong with me – beyond the missing testicle.

I’ve learned to be open with my health and feelings, so at my med check up with NP Sullivan, I basically said, “Hey, I don’t think these are working.” Since I am obviously super medically qualified (read as: not qualified at all), I supported my theorem by saying I was on the same dosage I was in high school, and High School Justin was about fifty pounds lighter and ten years younger (and had a terrible taste in hairstyles and girls, but that’s a different story for another day).

NP Sullivan actually agreed with me and decided to increase my dosage. I wish I could say that this was the end of my frustration, but it wasn’t.

However, this new struggle wasn’t internal – it was externally driven towards insurance companies and American healthcare in general. If you’re an international reader (and I know you’re out there, since according to Blogger’s data I have readers on every continent, except Antarctica, which is a shame since it’s cold as ball(s) there), appreciate it if you have a better healthcare system.

When Dr. Maurer first prescribed the pills in December, my prescription was denied, since the pharmacy needed to get “pre-authorization” because apparently, a doctor’s orders aren’t enough. This wouldn’t have been a huge deal, but I was going out of town for a week and wanted to start the pills immediately. Out of desperation, I ended up paying out of pocket for that first fill. About two weeks after starting the pills, the pre-authorization came through, just in time for my dosage increase.

And just in time for another claim denial. Apparently, my original pre-auth covered me only for the original dose. The fact that insurance claims can be denied through an automated system by non-medical professionals is ridiculous to me. Insurance companies, do better.

Long story short, the insurance claim handlers at Dr. Maurer’s office are awesome, and I got pre-authorized for the new dose. (Maybe my mini-rant on Instagram story helped too!) This new pre-auth lasts for a year, and hopefully, I won’t need any more increases.

To be honest, I don’t think I will need it. I’m not really sure when I noticed that I was feeling better, but when I wrote my “12 Months Later” post in late-January, things were definitely looking up. I was getting more into the swing of lesson planning and teaching, minor things didn’t bother me as much, and I didn’t find myself complaining as often. I wish I could say that colors were suddenly more vivid, but I’m colorblind and colors don’t ever look bright.

It’s now the end of February, and I feel so much better than I did in September. (Side note – I really feel like Christopher Nolan with the amount of time jumps in this post. My bad.) While I would never say I hated work, I definitely have a better attitude when I walk through the doors of Room 31. Exercise, writing, reading, and cooking have become more enjoyable again. While writing this post, I realized that this one has a better feel and tone, as compared to some of the posts I wrote between September to January, even though it’s about depression, I feel more like myself on a day-to-day basis. I haven’t resumed any sort of formal therapy program, but I know that is definitely recommended while on these pills. It’s on my to-do list to look into in the future.

My biggest takeaway from this all is to ask for help if you feel you need it. There seems to be such a stigma around mental health and this post is an effort to be open and transparent to help dispel it. Sometimes, mental health isn’t even viewed as a necessary thing to take care of or treat as a serious matter. We treat our bodies and help them to heal when we are sick or injured; why should our mental health and brains be different?

The debacle with the insurance company and preauthorization helps to underscore this issue. When I had “probable strep” in January, although the test came back negative, the company had no problem approving amoxicillin, even though it probably wasn’t necessary. Any other prescription for my myriad of side effects during chemo was filled without an issue. But needing antidepressants? I had to jump through hoops to get those.

I recently saw a Tweet that said, “Depressed people don’t need Prozac. They need running shoes and fresh air.”

That’s a damaging narrative. I tried that, and continue to exercise, but it wasn’t that simple for me. If that’s your opinion, fine. Go run or whatever else works for you. But don’t shame other people for trying what might work for them. Just as I’m not going to fault you for trying homeopathic medicine, don’t go throwing crystals at me for what I’ve chosen. Positive thinking just isn’t enough sometimes.

I hope that this dosage continues to keep my mood elevated and on the upswing. I have no idea how long I’ll need to be on the antidepressants, but I’m not worried about it. What matters to me is that my emotional healing is beginning to catch up to my physical healing, the disparity between the two being something that has been nagging at me since I was cleared for remission.

However, this is something that I should have seen coming. They removed half of my “lower brain” and left my upper brain fully intact… no wonder it’s taking twice as long to heal!

About the Author: Justin Birckbichler is a fourth grade teacher, men’s health activist, testicular cancer survivor, and the founder of aBallsySenseofTumor.com. From being diagnosed in November 2016 at the age of 25, to finishing chemo in January 2017, to being cleared in remission in March, he has been passionate about sharing his story to spread awareness and promote open conversation about men’s health. Connect with him on Instagram (@aballsysenseoftumor), on Twitter (@absotTC), on Facebook (Facebook.com/aballsysenseoftumor) or via email (justin@aballsysenseoftumor.com).

Currently, Justin is running a research study based on males of any age who have had a physical exam done by a doctor and their experiences related to testicular exams. I

This six-question survey is brief. All responses are anonymous, and all information is kept completely confidential.

If you’re a male, please visit bit.ly/absotdoctorsurvey to help further the research. If you’re not an owner of testicles yourself, please share the link to help maximize the reach. Thank you in advance!

Shame & Its Connection to the Stigma

As I was recovering from my second major bout of depression, I was introduced to Brene Brown’s well-known TedTalk on shame. It didn’t really make a lot of sense to me at the time. However, looking back on my two bouts of major depression and their lengthy recoveries, it is clear that I had a great deal of shame.

The first experiences I’m reminded of when I think of shame were the times I would go to the local pharmacy to pick up my medications (originally, several). I would wander around the store to make sure that there were no neighbors who I knew that would see me purchasing medications. What would I say if they happened to ask what medications I was getting? How would I respond if they asked me if I was sick? Now, also in hindsight, there was clearly a component of anxiety in play at the time. Anxiety often goes hand-in-hand with depression. That being said, there was clearly a component of shame in taking medications for a mental illness. When I’d return home from the stressful trip to the pharmacy, not only would I immediately throw out the receipt or any other evidence that I was taking an anti-depressant, but I would be sure to first tear it into many pieces. I also quickly hid the medicine in my underwear drawer, just in case someone would come into our master bedroom and see them.

When I first had depression, I would see my family doctor for medications. I remember sitting in the waiting room, wondering what would happen if someone from work  would happen to see me? Would I lie and say that I was there for a physical? I remember jockeying to find a seat in the waiting area that was conspicuous enough spot so that very few people could see me. I’d even hold a magazine near my face, covering it as best possible without being obvious. Focusing more on not being seen than actually reading any of the words on the pages. All of these actions, again, based upon my shame of needing to see a doctor for depression.

I was concerned about having to take too much time off from work in order to make it to my doctor appointments, particularly when I was first diagnosed seeing the doctor frequently. What would the staff at the school I worked at think if I was gone frequently for appointments, coming in late or leaving early? More shame. And once my depression got more severe, I had to starting seeing a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist who I chose to see was at a Behavioral Health clinic. I certainly knew the excuse of being there for a routine physical or a nasty cold wasn’t going to fly had I seen someone I knew. They’d instantly know I was there for some type of behavior health concern. Solely based on my shame of bumping into someone who might recognize me from the large school district I had been working in for many years, I considered changing doctors. In the end, I decided that seeking out a new psychiatrist would be too stressful and not feasible. So I gritted through the experience of sitting in the waiting room for each of my appointments, hoping desperately not to bump into someone I knew or who even looked vaguely familiar.

Early on in my depression, I ordered two books about depression (as shame would prevent me from purchasing these books in person at a bookstore where people may see me making such a purchase). These were incredible books by Matthew Johnstone that do an amazing job of helping others understand what it’s like to live with depression, or to live with a loved one who has depression. I read them, shared one with my wife, and then gently hid them away on the top of a tall bookcase in the basement. Not on the top shelf, but on the top of the bookcase, concerned, due to my shame, that someone who was visiting us at some point in the future might just see the books and ask about them.

When my suicidal thoughts became pervasive and plausible, I had to make the excruciating decision to take time off from work in order to check myself into a partial hospitalization program. Excruciating, as I nervously wondered what the staff who I supervised would say if I was gone for three weeks or more? What would I say when I returned? The shame was powerful. I nearly chose not to take time off and not to receive the help that I needed because of this shame. I had brought my wife and sister to my final appointment to advocate for me, as I did not have much confidence in the psychiatric physician’s assistant who I was seeing. Sure enough, the psychiatric physician’s assistant played into that shame, sharing with me how challenging taking off work may be. I was thankful for bringing my wife and sister who strongly advocated for me to enter a partial hospitalization program. In the end, I believe taking work off and entering such a program actually saved my life!

It was shame that kept me indoors when I took sick time away from work. I knew that it would be better to get outside. I knew I should be helping my family by running errands and driving our kids to activities. I knew that going for walk, getting a bit of exercise and fresh air, rather than isolating myself inside of the house, was important. However, the fear, once again, of bumping into someone I knew and having to explain why I wasn’t at work was terrifying for me. The shame of taking work off for depression was preventing me to do the things I needed to do in order to recover from depression and to help support my family.

What does stigma have to do with this, you may ask? I believe that a strong stigma still exists in much of the US. I believe the shame that many people face in dealing with a mental illness is directly related to this stigma. Because of the stigma, people are often uncomfortable to talk about mental illnesses. People with a mental illness are often judged and/or labeled. A mental illness is just like any other illness and should be treated as such. As many people say, mental illnesses are invisible. Yet, it’s important to understand that they are just as real as any other illness. A mental illness doesn’t make anybody any less intelligent and it certainly doesn’t make them violent, as a fair amount of myths may lead one to believe.

We need to normalize conversations around mental health, just as we have around cancer, diabetes, heart disease, and many other serious illnesses. One way to normalize our conversations is by sharing our stories of mental illness. Sharing our stories helps to educate those who may not understand mental illnesses and to support those who are struggling. The more we talk publicly and openly about mental illness, the more we do away with the stigma and the less shame people living with a mental illness feel.

Shame is powerful. Shame is dangerous. Shame often prevents people from getting the help they need. Shame played a role in me nearly taking my own life. Help normalize the conversations around mental illness, help end the shame!

Please tune in to my podcast, The Depression Files to hear me interview men who have struggled with depression. Inspirational stories of hope and perseverance!

As always, I welcome and encourage comments to this post. Thank you!

 

The Depression Files–The Launch!

I had been “stockpiling” the interviews for several months. My idea was to launch a podcast in which I interview men who had experienced depression. The goal? It was threefold:

  1. To educate people on depression; the serious and often times debilitating nature of the illness
  2. To give hope to those who may be suffering from depression
  3. To help minimize, or even eliminate, the stigma around mental illness

I wanted to create a “stockpile” of interviews to eliminate any stress of getting episodes published on a regular basis.  I knew that I would need to find willing guests, schedule the interviews, record the interviews, and edit them. In the meantime, I was having a friend help me create a temporary logo (one that I hope to change in the near future) so that I could also post to iTunes.

I had a teaser up…and I had even created a “Sampler” for possible guests. I had no interviews published, so I figured possible guests may want to hear a sample of my interview style and get a feel for the project. I had created an intro, but had not yet created an outro. All of this allowed for me to continue down the path of promoting my teaser, without the worry of whether or not the show would be successful once I actually launched it. In the coaching world, we call this the Saboteur…and mine can be HUGE. The Saboteur is the negative self-talk that prevents us from moving forward. For example, “What makes me think I could be a successful interviewer?” or “I’ll never be as good as Terry Gross, Mark Maron, or Larry King” or “What if nobody listens to the show?”

Sometimes, there needs to be something that gives one a big kick in the rear to begin to move forward. That kick in the rear for me…World Suicide Prevention Day on September 10, 2017. I figured, if I were ever going to launch this project, The Depression Files, there would never be a better day than World Suicide Prevention Day. I quickly made an outro, finished editing the show that I had decided would be the first episode, and…launched it! That was a big day for me! My teaser had been published at the end of June and I had been working on the project well before then.

My first episode was an interview with Steve Austin. As someone who is used to public speaking and hosts his own podcast, he was an ideal interviewee that made my “job” pretty darn easy. Steve is a life coach, author, speaker, and host of the #AskSteveAustin podcast. Steve has a website at iamsteveaustin.com. He is the author of the best-selling From Pastor to a Psych Ward: Recovery from a Suicide Attempt is Possible and other books, which can all be found by clicking here.

I have a new episode coming out every other Sunday and have just published my third one. I have been thoroughly enjoying the interviews and learning a great deal from every one of my guests (I believe I have about eleven more interviews recorded, awaiting to be edited).

I hope that you will listen to The Depression Files and that you are able to get something out of them. I hope that you will understand that depression is much, much worse than simply feeling sad. I hope that you will gain a deep sense of empathy for those who may be struggling with depression. In addition, I am hoping that any listeners who may be in the midst of a depressive episode, or living with chronic depression, are able to gain a sense of hope from the show. As cliche as it may sound, after going through major depression myself, I would never wish it upon my worst enemy.

If you would like to read more about the podcast, you can check out one of my earlier posts: Giving a Voice to Men with Depression: New Podcast Coming Soon!

As always, comments to this post are welcomed and encouraged! In addition, I hope that you may be willing to ‘like’ and/or share comments to any of the episodes of The Depression Files. Thank you!

The Catch-22 of Depression

One of the most challenging pieces of dealing with depression is the Catch-22. Everything one needs to do in order to overcome (or work towards the recovery of) depression is compromised by the very symptoms causing the depression.

Here are several examples. In order to recover from depression, one should…

  1. Eat a healthy diet, yet many people are unable to eat (or overeat) due to the depression.
  2. Exercise regularly, yet depression often takes away one’s energy.
  3. Socialize, yet many of those suffering from depression tend to isolate themselves.
  4. Attempt to get a good night of sleep, yet many with depression struggle with getting enough sleep.
  5. Enjoy their hobbies, yet most people with depression tend to lose interest in their hobbies.
  6. Get outside for fresh air and sunlight, yet many times those with depression are also faced with anxiety that tends to keep them inside their home.
  7. Monitor and stop negative thinking, yet many with depression ruminate and see only the negative side of things, even when there may not realistically be a negative side.

While the purpose of this post is to acknowledge that recovery from depression can be very challenging, it’s essential to maintain hope. Depression is treatable! Reach out for support. Connect with trusted loved ones. Acknowledge small successes! It takes time and effort, but you will recover!

Please see my post titled, “Tips for Dealing with Depression” for more suggestions on how to work towards recovery. If you are attempting to support someone else with depression, I would recommend my post titled, “Supporting One with Depression“, where I offer differentiated tips for supporting a loved one, a close friend, or an acquaintance.

I would like to credit the incredibly informative book, “Coping with Depression: From Catch-22 to Hope” by Dr. Jon G. Allen for many of the ideas in this post.

As always, I welcome and encourage comments to this post. Thank you!

 

My Thoughts on the Word “Stigma”

I have recently heard of the idea of getting away from the word “Stigma” when speaking about mental health. There are various articles that speak directly towards eliminating the word from the conversations altogether. For example, the article titled, “The Word Stigma Should Not Be Used in Mental Health Campaigns”. In this article, the author makes the case that “The focus of our efforts should be upon society and the perpetrators of this discrimination, not the subjects of it. If we accept the concepts of parity of esteem, then we should describe not stigma, but rather bigotry, hatred, unlawful and unjust discrimination.”

I prefer the definition offered by Kristalyn Salters-Pedneault, Ph.D., “Stigma is a perceived negative attribute that causes someone to devalue or think less of the whole person.” in an article titled, “What is Stigma?

In my opinion, the stigma is the negative feelings that some have regarding mental illnesses.  When one mentions that they have depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, or another mental illness, the stigma is what causes people to take a step back. The stigma causes people to begin to whisper when they discuss a mental illness. Another example of stigma is when someone tells a person who is suffering from depression to “Just go for a jog” or “Watch a funny movie”. This minimizes the serious and often times debilitating nature of the illness.  Stigma also creates shame and/or fear in people and often times prevents them from seeking the support they need.

The stigma, I believe, is what leads to the discrimination and bigotry and, yes, this certainly needs to be addressed as well. The discrimination and bigotry are the actions one takes towards a person living with a mental illness. For example, an employer not hiring a prospective employee because the employer discovers that the person has a history of depression. Another example would be a landlord choosing not to rent to someone due to the fact that they discover the possible tenant lives with schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.

In summary, I do not believe that we need to stop using the word “stigma” in our conversations around mental health. I believe that both the stigma and the discrimination/bigotry need to be addressed. If we are able to minimize or even eliminate the stigma, we would see much less of the discrimination. We need to continue to talk about mental illnesses, share our stories of living with a mental illness, and help educate others. These are a few of the ways that we can help end the stigma…and the discrimination.

As with all of my posts, I welcome and encourage comments. Thank you!

I’m “Depressed!” – A Poem

The weather outside is depressing.
I failed my test…I’m so depressed.
My soccer game got rained out…how depressing!
Really? REALLY?!?

I couldn’t get out of bed.
I lost 60 pounds because I couldn’t eat.
I was only able to sleep four hours for an entire week, yet laid in bed for hours throughout the day.
I couldn’t do the simplest of household chores.
I got lost driving to a neighbor’s house three blocks away.
I couldn’t concentrate.
I couldn’t read.
I couldn’t watch TV.
I lost all interest in my hobbies.
I couldn’t socialize, although I’ve always been outgoing.
I had delusional thoughts.
Finally, I had thoughts of suicide that I couldn’t escape and eventually a detailed plan of taking my own life.

And you’re depressed about the weather? Your failed test? Your soccer game getting rained out?
Really? REALLY?!?

Is It Wrong to Use So-Called “Headclutching” Photos & the Word Suffering?

In order for me to drive traffic to this blog, I have been tweeting for some time with the handle of @allevin18. Recently, a follower with a huge following retweeted one of my tweets. That always gets me quite excited, as it would ideally get me more followers on Twitter and at the same time hopefully bring a larger following to this blog. I asked this follower if he would mind tweeting my “Pinned Tweet”, as well, explaining how I was attempting to get more followers to my blog. I was surprised at his response, which was that he typically does not forward tweets that include the so-called “Head-clutching” photos.

Although I had never heard the term, I knew exactly what he was referring to. I had read in many articles describing techniques to increase followers on Twitter that it was important to include photos. I immediately began to search photos for depression and many of them included photos of men with their head clasped between their hands, showing a sense of agony or pain or frustration.

When I sent a private message to the follower, I told him that I was curious to have a better understanding on why these photos were not wise to use. He directed me to an article titled, “Saying Goodbye to ‘Headclutcher’ Photos” by Rethink Mental Illness. The article describes the main problem with the photos being that they,

“…are stigmatising. They show us a stereotype of a person with mental illness – that they are in perpetual despair, isolated and without hope. And while it is true that sometimes a person with a mental health problem might clutch their head, that’s also true of anyone, mental illness or not.”

While I very much respect the follower who I was communicating with on the topic and I respect and believe strongly in the work of the organizations involved in the campaigns, I have an opinion on “headclutching” photos that may not be completely aligned with their thoughts.

First, I have to admit that for fear of offending anybody, I immediately removed all of the “headclutching” photos from my library of photos and began to use other photos. However, I continued to read more and reflect more on the topic. I would not, for example, use a photo of a disheveled panhandler. I believe this would be stereotyping a type of person. The “headclutching” photos tend to stereoptype a feeling or an emotion.  While I do not want to paint the picture that everybody who has depression is at a point in which they would continually be clutching their head, there certainly are times in which the feeling that the photos convey is quite accurate. So, if one includes a photo of someone smiling, does that mean that people with depression are always smiling (or possibly masking their depression)? If it is picture of a large man, does that mean that we are stereotyping that only large men get depression? If it’s a picture of a black man, are we saying that only black men have depression? While I was working through my major depressive disorder, a “headclutching” photo would have accurately depicted how I was feeling.

The same goes for the word “suffer” that many advocates feel we should not use when discussing the topic of depression or describing someone with depression. While I understand very well that we would not want to leave the inaccurate impression that people with depression are in a continual state of suffering, I also believe that there are times in which people with depression are suffering and to not use the word could very well diminish the amount of anguish and struggles that the person may be going through. If anybody told me that I did not suffer when I was battling a bout of major depression, they are completely mistaken. I would agree that we should state that a person “is living with depression”, as many advocates now propose. However, if the person is currently out of work due to a major episode, I believe it is fine to describe the person as, “currently suffering from depression”. So, in general, people “live with depression”. However, at times, they clearly may be “suffering” from depression.

As far as “headclutching” photos, my belief is that we need to include a variety of photos; photos of people of different ethnicities, different genders (although, in my case, I typically use pictures of men, as that is a large focus of the advocating I do), different expressions, different sizes, dressed differently, etc.

People who live with depression certainly do not suffer or struggle (or clutch their head between their hands) all throughout their lives. I would not want to mistakenly give that impression to others. If we use the word “suffer” we should be sure that it is specifically referring to a moment in time. While I believe there are much more critical conversations to be having around mental illness, I do believe how we portray mental illness and the language we use is very important.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. As always, I encourage people to comment on this post and/or any other posts of mine.