Category: Personal

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Let’s Talk About It

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My dad and I went to an event at Brock tonight called “Let’s Talk About It”, wherein a panel of students, parents, and nurses openly discussed mental health issues. It was really interesting, and well done. Three current students spoke openly about their struggles with different types of mental illness, the mother of a student discussed her experience both with her own issues, and being the parent of a child going through it (there was a recent article in the Review about them), and a nurse from Health Services moderated / answered questions.

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The whole thing was about an hour and a half, and anyone interested can watch a recording here. I was pleased to see that Brock’s relationship with students who are dealing with mental health problems has vastly improved in the years since I graduated. Not to say it was terrible back then, but it certainly wasn’t as good as it could have been. The event itself was put together by a committee that included Brock, CMHA Niagara, Niagara Public Health, and a student group called Active Minds.

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All of the speakers openly discussed their histories, victories, and loses with mental illness. It was incredibly emotional to listen to, and I give them so much credit for standing up there and doing it. I’m honestly not sure I could.

In saying that, I can’t finish a blog titled ‘Let’s Talk About It’ with an ‘Or not’ comment. I’ve always tried to be as open as I’m comfortable with, which has often meant writing over speaking. But I’m not sure I’ve really openly discussed my full experience before. I made a brief summary of it on Ending The Stigma, back before it crashed and burned. ‘Brief’ being the operative word.

So… *deep breath* …in the hopes of helping to break the cycle of silence, end the stigma, and ‘talk about it’, here we go…

Continue reading “Let’s Talk About It”

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Explaining Panic: An Open Letter

I’ve become accustomed to explaining (or attempting to explain) anxiety and panic disorder to people. Seriously, I should just print out little cards with the CMHA blurb written on them and pull it out whenever I meet someone new.

“Hi, I’m Spencer. Are you familiar with panic disorder? Here’s a leaflet…

What is panic disorder?

Panic disorder involves repeated and unexpected panic attacks. A panic attack is a feeling of intense fear or terror that lasts for a short period of time. It involves physical sensations like a racing heart, shortness of breath, chest pain, dizziness, shaking, sweating or nausea. Some people feel like they’re having a heart attack or suffocating, others fear that they are dying.

Panic attacks can be a normal reaction to a stressful situation or a part of another mental illness. With panic disorder, panic attacks seem to happen for no reason. People who experience panic disorder fear more panic attacks and may worry that something bad will happen as a result of the panic attack.

Got it? Awesome. Please keep it in mind in the future! Oh, and nice to meet you!”

Now, of course it’s never that straightforward and simple, but I’ve made a point over the last 5 years or so to not shy away from talking to people about it. Chances are that if we have even casual contact with once another you’re going to see me having an attack eventually.

Unfortunately, every once in awhile I reach a place of thinking ‘what’s the point?’

Especially knowing from experience that such a definition is meaningless to most people. Because in spite of a diagnosis from a doctor and the above explanation, I still find myself stuck in regular conversations where I’m told things like “for god sake stop it, you’re an adult!” or “just get over it” or “try harder” etc, etc, etc.

I understand that the people around me are frustrated, I really do. But saying things like that on regular basis do nothing whatsoever to help. In fact, not surprisingly, they hinder. Do you not realize that whatever frustration you’re feeling, I’m feeling tenfold? Honestly, you think it sucks being around me for an hour or two- Try living inside my head. It’s a nightmare. And, bonus, after a short period of time in my company you get to leave. I don’t.

And this is every single day for me. I have panic attacks for little to no reason on a daily basis, meaning that on a daily basis my body freaks the fuck out when my brains sends a ‘you’re going to die‘ red alert signal. My blood pressure skyrockets, my nose bleeds, it feels like someone is standing on my chest, and I can’t stop crying. This has become my life. Do you honestly think I’m not beyond infuriated with it? Do you not think that’s why I’ve been going to doctor after doctor, trying medication after medication for years? Did it ever occur to you the lengths I’ve gone to find relief from this? The things I’ve done that I would never even utter on this blog, but done nonetheless because at the time they’re all that worked?

I’m sorry that me and my imbalanced brain are an occasional annoyance to you. But this is my (often unbearable) reality. I can’t even escape it when I sleep! Did you know I wake up sweating, nose bleeding, and crying from dream-induced attacks on a regular basis? Plus the panic/anxiety is often worsened by other factors like depression and PMS. Please don’t even ask me what the trifecta looks like… I’ve only just worked up the nerve to talk to my doctor about that one!

Anyway, the point being: I know I’m a lot to take and if you need to bow out, I understand. You won’t be the first and you certainly won’t be the last. But for everyone else- the family and ‘you’re stuck with me forever’ friends- please don’t be too harsh. All of that frustration and anger you’re feeling towards me, know that I’m feeling it towards myself too. Spending too long with me, does not a good relationship make. Small doses, all that. It’s the reason I try and keep a lot of space between visits. It’s the reason I try not to stay in one place for too long. It’s the reason I generally stick solo.

I’m sure that sounds fairly sad and pathetic to most, but it’s how I roll. I’ve always done my own thing, in my own time, and have been fortunate enough in life to find some people who get that. And the rest, well, I vent to them in passive-aggressive blogs that they’ll probably never read.

IMG_8524One day I’ll know this to be true.

 

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3 Things

In an attempt to begin working my way out of my current rut, I’m putting myself on what I’m calling the ‘3 Things Weekly Challenge’. Every week I need to make a conscious effort to do each of the following (often difficult/scary) things:

  1. Make a decision / take an action that puts my health before anything else.
  2. Apply for / take action towards a dream job, regardless of the likelihood of success.
  3. Have a proper (non-email / text), honest conversation with someone about how things are going.

And when doing each of these things I’m not allowed to get myself worked up, be embarrassed, fear failure or judgement, or give up before trying.

I can’t say what positive changes this will make, if any, but I figure it’s worth a shot.

Also! Autumn is here! HUZZAH!

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The Pretentious

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Thank you, Buzzfeed.

As happens, I found myself in a Buzzfeed spiral last night, resulting in me taking The Mean Personality Test. The result (pictured above) made me laugh! It’s just as true as it is insulting. And had the added irony of a comment section discussion between those who received this result (myself included) all weighing it’s accuracy and speculating on it’s relation to Myers-Briggs. Us pretentious folk are predictable, if nothing else!

And I have no doubt that everyone is stressing that they do, in fact, come off as pretentious to those around them. I know I am!

But, I suppose if I am pretentious, I’m in good company between all my fellow INFJs and the likes of Zachary Quinto. ;)

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Ouch (Redux)

I’ve had a couple of people ask me how I’m feeling, making me realize that I haven’t really said much about my health in awhile. And by ‘awhile’ I mean… 19 days. Has that really been it? Sheesh.

Anyway, following that last ‘whining about my health’ blog, I did not make it work the next day, or several days to follow. I wound up at the hospital, being pocked, prodded, and CT scanned. To be fair, I’m pretty sure the CT scanner was new and I was only given the test because the doctor was super pumped about it.

Last week I finally saw the GI surgeon, and it was an enormous waste of time. I was there for a grand total of 5 minutes, during which he told me: 1. My gastroenterologist was being irresponsible; 2. He didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes by ordering tests that should have been ordered by someone else; 3. He does not trust CT scans; 4. I’m probably going to develop colon cancer, just an FYI; and 5. Go back to my gastro, request the correct test I need for a GI surgeon consult, and once that’s done return with the results to my family doctor, who can then send in a new surgeon referral.

So, I should have some idea what’s happening by summer 2015. Treatment may begin the following spring. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised- It took nearly 2 years to be diagnosed with UC in the first place. And just when I had started to rock the emaciated look, too. Figures.

But not to be all Debbie Downer, there’s been some good this week past week. I ordered a new camera lens (OOOOOH) and this came in the mail yesterday:

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It’s finally starting to feel official! I’m done with grad school and will (hopefully) never have to deal with Humber ever again!

I also saw a couple of movies: ‘Hollidaysburg’ and ‘This Is Where I Leave You’. I highly recommend both.

Hollidaysburg is an indie film, and related to a docu-series called ‘The Chair’ that is currently airing. The premise of the series is that two first-time directors are given identical scripts, and the show follows where they take it. It’s really interesting to watch. The director of this film, Anna Martemucci, wrote a film that I saw awhile ago and really enjoyed, so it’s neat to watch her put on a directors hat. I also fell in anxiety/cry sister love with her when she said:

“I think that I’m probably going to cry a lot. And probably in front of people. And that’s okay.

I think that I can be a leader and still have emotion, so I’m struggling with the idea that I have to hide any fear or overwhelming-ness or frustration that I have because otherwise people will not treat me like a leader. Or not think that I’m a good filmmaker or something.

But, I don’t know. I call bullshit on that. I feel like I’m going to experience a lot of stuff and that’s okay and that’s part of this experience.”

As someone who has spent her entire life being judged for being ‘a crier’ I can’t tell you how happy I was when she publicly called out cry-shaming. Of course, I cried at work on Sunday because a guest was crying and no one believed me that that was a thing, so, 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. Ah well.

Here’s the trailer for her film:

I also went to see This Is Where I Leave You with my mom a couple of days ago. It was great, obviously (Fey, Bateman, win):

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Return to the Battlefield

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Battlefield Public School, that is.

My (mostly) beloved elementary school shut it’s doors a few years back, and I read recently in the news that the building and property have since been sold to a developer, with plans to eventually build condos in its place.

There is, of course, controversy over this decision. After all, you don’t name a school “Battlefield” without some historical significance. In this case, the land is a designated Canadian Heritage area, with the site being involved in the Battle of Lundy’s Lane during the War of 1812. Only it turns out that a Heritage designation doesn’t mean all that much, especially when it’s just for a plot of land (the school itself was built in 1970, so holds no historical value). From the current looks of things I appears that they may be keeping the majority of the space as a park, but I’m honestly not sure.

Yesterday I decided to wander over and get some photos of the building before it’s leveled. I’d absolutely love to be able to go inside, but I think all opportunities to do so came and went while I was abroad. Simply wandering around the outside of the building and the yard brought back a wave of memories. For those not familiar, elementary schools in our district typically run from JK/SK thru 8th grade. Meaning, many of the students who attended Battlefield during it’s 40 or so years of operation spent 9-10 years there. I personally started there in the 2nd grade, so I only did 7 years inside. But what an eventful 7 years it was!

I didn’t realize that my childhood school days were all that eventful until I went away to university. I’d occasionally tell an anecdote to which I’d receive looks of shocked horror, and I’d think ‘huh, I guess that wasn’t everyone’s experience…’

My friend Saira has been trying to convince me for years to actually write some of these anecdotes out, and I did find some inspiration to do so while photographing yesterday. As such, I suppose the rest of this post will be a bit of a writing exercise. Proceed with caution…

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Surrounded

My go-to Battlefield story tends to be the telling of it’s surroundings. The school yard was, for all intents and purposes, a square. Standing in the centre, facing south, you would have the view above of the back of the school. The double door on the left was for the primary and junior division, with the doors on the right for the senior division.

If you were to turn clockwise to the west, you face uphill, where the school yard property met with Drummond Hill Cemetery. Most headstones dated back to the early 1800s, and it was strange to go back and realize that I remembered most of the names. Upper, Morse, Woolnough, Plato, Skinner, Ker, and dozens more whose names had faded from the stone long before my time. Walking along the west line I came across a collection of small stones. I have a vague recollection of them- They were pressed right up against the chain link fence that separated the land with nothing written on the back. Now that the fence has been removed I could, for the first time, walk to the front where I realized that the small stones were those made for infants.

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The proximity to death and tragedy doesn’t occur to you as a child. For us that hill meant high rocks and trees to sit on, a place to toboggan in the winter, and roll down in the summer.

Continuing clockwise, when facing north you’re met with the stone wall and dirty windows of a not-too-classy motel. But, again, this doesn’t mean much when you’re a kid. The limited space between the hotel wall and chain link fence meant that the branches of the trees and bushes that spilled over from the motel were never trimmed or maintained. For us that meant a canopy of leaves and vines extending almost the entire length of the yard. Perfect for hiding, playing, and catching grasshoppers.

Turning east we find the back / parking areas of several establishments, including: Morse & Son Funeral Home, Mints, Main St. Laundromat, and a bar that was open all day. From Morse & Son it became usual fare to see hearses coming and going, being loaded and unloaded. From the rest came an assortment of patrons and activities. Fights, arrests, police cars on site, they were all typical.

Though the main event of the year would come from Mints, an infamous local strip club. The club would hold an annual wild animal show, wherein the dancers would be joined on stage by something of a different kind of exotic: a tiger (type, I couldn’t say). They would keep the tiger in the back parking area, and in an effort to save costs would only purchase 3 rows of fencing to enclose the creature, using our schools chain link fence as the fourth wall. As a result, at recess a teacher would have to go and stand guard to ensure that no children had their hands bitten off

To my knowledge there was no loss of limbs. At least not during my 7 year stint.

~End~

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Wandering around brought back a hundred long forgotten memories as well:

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The time we attempted to do swing dance moves on the “blacktop” which resulted in Mallory being run head-first into the brick wall above. We all laughed at visual, until realizing after a few moments that she hadn’t moved a muscle since hitting the ground. We then moved towards her and realized that there was blood rushing from her head, and a lunch lady was screamed for.

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The time Sara lost control of here wheelchair and did a full somersault (chair and all) down the steps on the right. We ran over in a panic, only to find her lying on her side, still strapped in, and laughing hysterically at what had just happened.

There was also a protruding windowsill (from the French room with it’s inexplicable kiln) on the right that the boys would use to climb on the roof of the building.  It was also the spot where I got my one, and only (knock-on-wood), bee-sting.

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A small group of us use to pretend that we were on spaceship when we played in the space above. The cement block was the bridge, and you’d have to hang on to the metal rings when travelling at lightspeed. The area to the right was the engine room, which was always having problems (of course!), and the small pipe you can see ascending from the metal shield was a para-scope (I guess our spaceship also acted as a submarine from time to time).

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Aside from the random blotches of mismatched paint and boards on the windows, the school doesn’t look all that different from the outside. The old doors, railings, and fences are still up. You can see the outlines of the basketball court, baseball diamonds, playground, and beehive. There’s a faded spot where the random paved circle use to be, as well as the utility shed. The metal compost bin is still there, as are most of the trees.

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I definitely have a lot of fond memories of that place, and as I mentioned earlier, seeing inside one last time would be a riot. By 8th grade we’d managed to find a ton of “hidden” spaces around the building that I have no doubt would have landed us in a world of trouble if anyone found out. I remember we someone found a way to get into the ceiling of the gym, and would go up there fairly often. Ah, to be young and oblivious to reckless actions! Looking back I feel like I was kind of bad-ass when I was 12.

Okay, fine. Not really.

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100

According to my blog dashboard this will be my 100th published post. As such, I thought I’d do a little ruminating on the past.

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When you graduated high school how did you envision your life ten years out?

I can’t remember my exact picture, whether I was a lawyer or humanitarian worker, but whatever the job was, I was doing it. I was living in a big city, traveling, probably married or on the road to it, and the rest probably looked a great deal like an episode of Friends.

And if 10 years ago I was to see a snapshot of my life at this moment, with no context or information about the past decade, it would probably seem pretty grim. Living at home, working at The Falls, single, and so far beyond broke that I can’t even remember the last time I saw a positive bank balance.

But, I think that’s the problem with having those kinds of expectations in your head. Life doesn’t give a damn about the vision you have for your future. Sure, there are some people out there who are living the life they dreamed for themselves way back when, but even that doesn’t mean the road to get there was easy. And for most of us that road had detours and forks and dead ends, leading to a picture that in no way resembles the one thought up a decade ago.

I can think of a thousand mistakes I’ve made in the last 10 years. And there’s a thousand more ‘I should haves’, ‘What Ifs’, and ‘Why didn’t I’s’. But I like to think that in the last few years I’ve been able to stop myself from dwelling on those thoughts, and being too hard on myself for things that I can’t change. What’s done is done, after all.

And, of course, no one anticipated how the world would change in last decade. Perhaps if we’d known a major global recession was ahead that included staggering under/unemployment for a massive percentage of us, we’d have reconsidered that 4 year liberal arts degree.

But I digress.

I don’t mean to imply that having that picture in your head is a negative thing. Having goals to focus on and work towards are important. But I think having that exact image of ‘this will be my life’ can become negative if you refuse to let it change and evolve as your experience does.

My life at this exact moment isn’t ideal, but the road that brought me here had some pretty fantastic sights. Leaving high school I didn’t think that by 27 I’d have had the opportunity to live in UK 3 times, to travel most of Europe, to meet friends from every corner of the Earth, to live out epic fangirl dreams, etc. Sure, the lows have been pretty low, but the highs have been pretty high too. And both have helped shape the person I’ve become. A person I kind of like, if that’s not too narcissistic to admit. I like that I’m independent. I like that I’m able to do things even though they terrify me. I like that I’m introspective, even if it does end up being cliche.

But that’s not to say that there aren’t things I dislike about myself. I’m too anxious, and too awkward sometimes. I spend too much time alone, and too much time stressing over some random thing I said to someone 2 weeks ago. I wish I read more and was more informed on a lot of subjects and issues. I wish I were kinder and were better at keeping in touch with friends. I’d like to be in shape and not feel so self-conscious about the way I look. I’d like to not feel like I need to follow up the statement ‘I kind of like myself’ by listing all the things I don’t like about myself…

However, unlike the ‘I should haves’ and ‘Why didn’t I’s’ I mentioned earlier, all of these ‘dislikes’ are things that I can work to change. I’ve been working on my anxiety for the past few years now, and have hope that maybe one day it will get better. And I can make an effort to read more, be kinder, and keep in touch with people. None of these things are impossible or even out of reach.

I don’t think a lot people’s visions for their future consider both the aesthetics of their life, as well as the inner characteristics of the person they’ll become. I don’t think mine did, at least. But if it had, I hope it would have included some of the things that I consider myself to be today: Independent, taker of risks/opportunities, self-aware.

When I think about my future from here on out, I want to do so abstractly. I’ll allow myself to make specific goals, but will not let those goals dictate the vision for a specific time too heavily. I want to focus more on the present, and be more accepting of my own experience as it’s happening. And most importantly, I’d like to work towards being a person who is one day content, fulfilled, and comfortable in my own mind and environment.

And, yeah, maybe be a little less cliche.

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2004 – High School Graduation

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Ouch

I’ve been at my new job for a week now. The actual work is pretty mundane, but the people are nice and the backdrop is gorgeous, so it’s been pretty good. Plus, getting out into the world on a regular basis has helped ease that rut I was in (who knew? /sarcasm). Unfortunately being able to leave the update there just isn’t my brand of luck.

I mentioned a couple of months ago that I was getting sick, but was so happy when I somehow managed to have a positive turn around in August. That laceration in my gut, which has been the bane of my existence since around February, was finally starting to heal on it’s own. Thank Thor! Sadly, after a month problem-free, it tore open again this past weekend and is bleeding more than ever before.

I’m not sure if the tearing is work-related, coincidental, or what. Regardless, it hurts and is making me feel terrible. And on top of that I’ve now gotten myself completely stressed out worrying about it. I ended up having a panic attack at work today, which aside from being beyond embarrassing, makes me look completely incompetent. It’s not easy to explain to someone who’s not familiar with anxiety that an attack isn’t necessarily related to what’s happening in the moment. The job is not stressful or anxiety-inducing, which I tried to say today, but ever since that incident at the Natural History Museum I’m paranoid. And that isn’t helping the stress either.

I have an appointment with the gastrointestinal surgeon in 2 weeks, so fingers crossed for some good news there. I’m not thrilled at the prospect of surgery, but it definitely beats the alternative.

For the moment I just need to focus on not freaking out about going to work tomorrow because I’m mortified about what happened today.

Beer me strength…

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Abandoned tram system in the woods at work

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See The Sun

I feel like I’ve lost my words, as trite as that sounds. I’ve never had much in the way of eloquent writing skills, but the transfer of thoughts from mind to paper (screen?) has always come easily enough. Lately I’ve been struggling, however. My mind feels jumbled and I’m unable to comprehend or articulate the thoughts. I’m easily confused and frustrated, and more irritable these days.

Anyway, the point is that following is a discombobulated mess…

Continue reading “See The Sun”