Depression

A Young Man's Fall To Grace - 05.17.10 - SI Vault

OK so I guess I should have named this blog angst and death. But perhaps that's what I need to get out (or it's what I can publish--I've got some great drafts in here that I can't really share--but in the end, I think a blog is like a journal and in a journal guess who is the center of the universe? Me. And so sometimes I just write.). But I digress.

I happened upon the above article in Sports Illustrated this morning by Selena Roberts. Yes I read Sports Illustrated and no I don't actually care about the Swim Suit Issue because I'm really tired of giant fake boobs. Who can order a swimsuit anymore? No one's boobs look like that (forget the rest of the body). But I digress again.

What a great article. It talks about depression in a way that people can begin to understand. Depression is not just about being sad. It can be anger, it can be angst, it can be so many things. If we think of depression as just sadness, we will miss a lot of signs that we need to see. Take it from me, I know.

First of all, she talks about the dichotomy between this high achieving, popular kid. Who would think he was suicidal? She accurately points out how depression can "suffocate joy, bully perspective and intensify pressure until a nothing-I-do-is-good-enough belief crosses the threshold to an I'm-not-good-enough hopelessness." It's probably the hardest thing of all to understand about mental illness. How the brain can turn things around on you. Most people who hear voices started out hearing them because they needed someone to say something nice and reassuring to them. At first the voices do, but then they turn on you and begin to belittle you.

But back to this "nothing-I-do-is-good-enough belief." In my constant search to make sense of my brother's suicide, I keep coming back to this one thing. The more successful he became, the harder it became to be him. So at a time in his life when it looked like he had it all--a wife, a new baby, a great job, a promotion--it became nearly impossible to live up to the bar he had set for himself. And of course there was no one he could confide in because then they would know his secret--that he wasn't good enough no matter what he did. The boy in this story was in therapy and doesn't tell his therapist his true secret.

So just like the boy in this story my brother turned to alcohol to numb the pain. Then he went to a place where he had once felt carefree. He took his boat out and anchored off the shore of the place we vacationed when he was little (even using GPS to find the exact spot). Where he had spent hours fishing or surfing on his boogie board. Where there were no standards for success. Where there was just sand, sun, surf, family, friends and fun.

But alcohol is a disinhibitor. So I think it allowed the demon to take over.

In the SI story, that's the thing that's important to understand. The boy in the story has no memory of attempting suicide. In fact, he asks who pushed him out the window. People who commit suicide are psychotic. It means they are beyond rational thinking. Once he was back to his rational mind, it could not remember this irrational act.

So why am I on this this morning? Well for one thing it's this quest to make sure my theory is right. I don't want to blame someone for my brother's death. He alone is responsible. He was sick. His brain was sick. It was like an undiagnosed tumor that took over before the doctors could find it. Actually he hid it and hid it well, until it was too late. Just like my (great) Aunt Blanche hid her breast cancer until it was too late.

Secondly, I'm terrified. I'm terrified of teen depression and suicide. I'm surrounded by this great group of 13 year old boys whom I love. They are all wonderful boys, good students and athletes. They have great friends. They have great parents. They have a great life. And I worry and watch. Because I want to find the demon before it is allowed to grow. I look for changes--who is sullen, who is being picked on, who is angry, who is separating themselves, who is getting left out? It's hard, hard to know and hard to confront. No one wants a friend to tell them their son might be depressed. But I will. And I will watch. And I will listen. And while I'm no one's confidant right now, I hope that I'm in a place where I could be.

One last little thing before I sign off this very depressing little writing here. If you have hand guns and firearms. Keep them locked up. Hide the key. While girls attempt suicide more often, boys are 5 times more successful because they are more likely to use a gun. So access to firearms makes it easier and more tempting. That might be the one thing I could blame. My brother had a hand gun and he knew how to use it.

A Young Man's Fall To Grace - 05.17.10 - SI Vault

Snow Happens for a Reason

My dad and step mom came to spend time with us over New Year's. We don't really have a holiday with my parents (either mom or dad) and New Year's has worked for them. Taj loves meeting our friends and finding out about where they are from and other things I've usually never known. Dad, for one night, loves the chaos of the people and kids and the general merriment. He even likes the banging of the pots at midnight (because he's not wearing his hearing aids as usual). So they came, we had a great visit and they went home. I didn't hear anything for almost a week. Then I got a call from Taj on Friday that dad had fallen and hit his head THREE DAYS AGO and that he had been the hospital for THREE DAYS and that they were going to keep him until probably Monday. He's fine they say. Well I discussed with both of them that I really would like to hear on the day something like this happens. Apparently Dad didn't want her to call, but being second in command as it were, I would like to know.

Now I'm leaving a big pink elephant out of this. My dad has always been a drinker and he ebbs and flows with problem drinking. (eg a drink in the middle of the night, a drink in the morning, and a steady buzz throughout the day--fine on holiday but not necessarily so on your average Wednesday, especially when you have balance issues or are diabetic and on an array of pills that would impress pfizer) He gets depressed when he leaves us or after a vacation. This has caused a variety of problems from yelling at my dear husband for nothing to drinking himself into a head injury (he was getting the mail). Taj noted that she had had enough of this crap and he was not going to drink anymore. I agreed that we would do what was needed at this end. And I wrote him a heartfelt letter. Because whatever--from drinking to not taking his meds to getting up on ladders, it seemed he was slowly and/or quickly killing himself. I love my dad and I want him around for a long time.

So back to the head injury. I got off the phone and after my initial roller coaster of feelings, I thought whoa. He hit his head. He had a CT scan. He's going to be in the hospital for at least 5 days? Oh you know there's the whole self-preoccupation about why wasn't I called and there was the DENIAL (my favorite) and there was the guilt and there was the should I stay or should I go. So there was constant contact for the next several days and he was getting better and he was coming home. He had a therapist coming to the house (huh?) and several more CT scans (huh?). We did finally convince him to see a new doctor who would reevaluate his medicines and he agreed to quit drinking. I offered to come help, no it's OK. I offered to come help, no it's OK. I offered to come help, no it's OK.

Slowly information began to chip away at the denial. Partly it was the slow gathering of information and partly it was the peeling away the layers. So the reality was that he fell. He hit his head. He was unconscious. Fortunately Taj was on alert because she was concerned by his balance (this time not inner ear but inner alcohol) and had been checking the window to watch his progress to get the mail. Now of course she had said "sit, sit there I'll get the mail" but he was bound and determined to walk to the mailbox and so it was. So she looked out the window and there he was lying on the driveway in the blink of an eye. She was changing clothes and ran out, realized her error (as in she didn't have any clothes on), ran back in threw something on and called the neighbor who called 911. (This may or may not be the complete correct sequence of events but close enough.) I would like to thank that ambulance driver whomever he may be because he said "I want to take him to Va Beach General because Dr. Ang is there and he is the best neurosurgeon I know."

hint hint neurosurgeon=bad head injury

So it comes out that it wasn't a simple concussion but a double brain bleed. The bleeding stopped on its own, there was no need for surgery. Thank God he's one of five 78 year olds who isn't on blood thinners! Again, can I come visit, can I come help. There must be more going on than I know because a physical therapist is coming to the house. no no no everything is fine

In the mean time, Milo has hip surgery, Mollie breaks her ankle, and Parker gets braces.

And one day I'm talking to my dad and he says, "What will it take for me to get you to come down here and help me learn how to use my Kindle?" That is the heartbreakingest thing to hear because it's really, "I need you." You want your parents to want you, but you don't really want them to need you.

And so the planning began. Mollie and I would go to Va on Saturday and return on Monday. She would get to skip school, but she needed to learn to walk without crutches so we could get through the airport. We needed to leave on Saturday so we could see Marc Michaelson's annual show at the Winter Club. We'd fly in we'd go have dinner, we'd see Mom, we'd see Lin, we'd go to Lin's restaurant, we'd have brunch. Fun, fun, fun!

And then it snowed. In Virginia. 10 inches. Our flight on Saturday was cancelled on Friday afternoon. We rebooked for Saturday night hopeful things would be cleared out. Dad called on Saturday morning and said please don't try to fly and even if you do I don't think we can drive to the airport to pick you up because of the road conditions. So I called Delta and they let me change the plane to the next weekend.

And then it snowed. In Virginia and Cincinnati. Actually it rained in Cincinnati and I didn't really believe that there would be snow until I woke up at 6 a.m. (after waking at 4 and 5) and saw what looked like a blizzard. Anthony and my dad had begged me not to fly out in snow and I promised if there was any kind of snow emergency I would not fly. Sure enough Hamilton County was under level 1 and Boone (where the airport physically is) was level 2. So I called Delta and they let me have a full refund. I didn't try to reschedule for the next weekend because the next week I was going to Florida for a marriage maintenance weekend and my mom was coming to keep the kids--her drive is another whole snow blog about determination and driving through the mountains in the snow.

So we began to make other plans. Dad was better, and Taj cancelled her hiking trip but was hopeful she could go to Turkey with her nephew so he could meet the rest of the family. (Social studies note, Iranians can travel freely to Turkey, Americans can travel freely to Turkey so it's a good meeting point.) Dad would come stay 5 days with us. This is big news because he was willing to fly by himself. He was doing well! Maybe Dad would stay the entire three weeks with us, maybe he got to choose, maybe he didn't--depended on how he was doing, but so for so good.

Then on Sunday February 28 as we were driving home from our basketball victory dinner, Taj called. I could tell she was very upset and she asked if I would come home. I said I would call her in the morning when I did not have a car full of screaming children and that I would be there in the next 48 hours.

The next day was my birthday. The following day some friends were taking me for lunch. So I decided to fly out on Wednesday. I was a little resentful. I thought things were going well.

On Monday, we chatted, it was my birthday everyone was happy. I'd made my reservations for Wednesday and since everyone, including Dad, sounded good, I didn't feel so bad for waiting until Wednesday. I figured, Taj is tired and needs a break, I'll fly down and help her out and we'll have the visit we were supposed to have three - four weeks ago.

And so, third time's a charm, I got off without a hitch and landed 1/2 an hour early. Taj picked me up and said she'd called the doctor because she was worried about Papa. When I arrived at the house I was shocked by the old man who greeted me with some weird glasses askew. He was not the man who left my house on January 3rd. We said our hellos and he said let me go upstairs to my room where I feel more comfortable. This was not a simple climbing of the stairs. This was not what had been described the several weeks before. This was about 11:30 a.m. I went up, we chatted. I asked him if he'd put his hearing aids in. And things steadily went down hill.

Layers began to peel away. He'd been on a roller coaster of behavior over the last 4 days. The most significant thing to Taj was that he wasn't fussing anymore. Then the word salad started. I mean complete mumbo jumbo coming out of his mouth.

The long and short of it was successful brain surgery which I can describe in detail, an early discharge from the hospital, rehab, more word salad, back to the hospital because of fluid and swelling, Hester back to VA, success in the hospital, bad rehab, switch to good rehab, and now he's home.

Thank God I was there. Snow Happens for a Reason.

Processed Foods and Perfectionism

I was reading my new Cooking Light today (do I sound virtuous? I'm not sure how I started getting it-was it a reward for selling a lot of wrapping paper, or did I buy from some other kids' fundraiser? Well now that Gourmet is gone....) and I read an article about Jamie Oliver. Now we watch a fair amount of Food Network, and I'd heard of the Naked Chef (never sure why he was called that), but I never put 2 and 2 together. Anyway, the article talked about how charming he is blah blah blah and then the fact that he is on a crusade to improve nutrition. Hey I'm on a crusade to improve nutrition--in my head. No really I want to be on a crusade to improve nutrition. I organize a group of concerned moms and dads and we overhaul the school lunch system into fresh nutritious foods our children will actually eat and I'll never have to make lunch again. But I digress.

So Jamie is doing a reality show from Huntington, West Virginia. The least healthy town in the USA. His premise is that he will teach different people to cook one meal. They'll teach others and Huntington, West Virginia will move out of the top (bottom) 10. He talks about "proper food." Which coming from a mother who talked a lot about "proper" things, my ears immediately perked up. He feels that if people did something from remotely from scratch half the time, it would fix 98% of the weight and nutrition problems.

So I began to think about proper food. I read all the labels of the tacos I was making for dinner. Fortunately I shopped at Fresh Market this week, so my taco seasoning only had 5 ingredients. I knew they had ground my beef and made my guacamole. But then I looked at the taco sauce, cheese (that at some point had at least seen a cow) and thought, ugh I can't do that. I can't make everything from scratch. I love the idea. I'd like to make my own taco seasoning, but I don't. And what about my Rao's Marinara Sauce? Yes it leaves a dark red grease stain, which homemade marinara would not do, but my Rao's I've got to give up my Rao's? and my easy and much loved LaRosa's meatballs--all I have to do is reach in the freezer, put them in the pot with the Rao's, boil some (protein & fiber added) pasta and shazam! dinner that everyone loves and admires. Well if I can't have perfectionism, I'm not even going to try.

So I thought about it and that's pretty much my problem all around isn't it. (And I'm having a deja vu that I've written about this all or nothing/perfectionism but I'm on a roll so I'm not looking back.) If I can't do it 100%, I'm not even going to try. If I blow the diet at breakfast, well I may as well just eat everything in sight until the following Monday (everyone knows the diet begins on Monday).

So I bought his cookbook and I'm watching his TV show and I'm trying. I even made homemade meatballs and sauce. And I'm trying to do better at not being a perfectionist--rather than reorganizing an entire room, I'm just doing a closet. Shockingly, it works! Better to have one closet organized than that guilty feeling of needing to go through everything. The only problem is that by the time you've finished the room, that first closet needs organizing--again.

Anyone want to join me:

http://www.jamieoliver.com/campaigns/jamies-food-revolution/school-food

Parker's Social Protest Poem

Parker had to write a social protest poem for Language Arts. Here's what he wrote (with no help from me). I'm so proud.

Social Protest Poem

Why do those who have none suffer while who have lots thrive

Why is the government giving money to the millionaires Instead of those who can’t afford food for their family

The people who have don’t give

And the people who don’t have can barely live

Imagine watching all the people walk by throwing away their Half-eaten sandwiches spilling their extra large drinks

Things wasted that you would kill to have

You can’t afford it but that’s okay

Because A.I.G. has enough to pay

Their execs bonuses that they don’t need

When five jobs isn’t enough to provide what we need

To get help (from our fellow people)

And when they don’t answer

Where do you go?

You have nowhere to go

Like there is no light (at the end) (of the tunnel)

Like the government is a bully

Like they don’t want you to succeed

But don’t worry

You can do whatever you set your mind to

You’re as strong as a rhino and as smart as Einstien

Money may be avoiding you

But you can catch it

You can make it in this world

The Magic of Christmas

"Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me and for those who still truly believe."

I recently found out that my sister in law told my niece there is no Santa. She's 5. I'm not sure she's ever been allowed to have Santa. You see my sister in law is incredibly bitter. My brother committed suicide and left her with a 9 month old baby five years ago. Obviously, I have lots of unresolved feelings. I've been to two therapists and talked endlessly about it. However, I know my brother is at peace. Some people can't find peace on earth. He was haunted from the time he was a little child. I remember him complaining of terrible headaches and saying, "if I were a squirrel someone would shoot me to put me out of my misery." He went to see a psychiatrist. I wish we knew then what we do now. I wish people knew that depression was more than just being "sad." I think he would have had a whole other life. I tell people, I always knew Billie was tightly wound, I just never know how much.

Shortly after he died, my brother visited me in a dream. I was being chased by someone who wanted to kill me. I struggled and ran and ran and finally my brother came to me and told me to let them catch me, that death is a relief. That I would have peace and relief. A peace he could not find on earth.

I'm sitting here with Mollie watching Polar Express (we started out watching It's a Wonderful Life). It was really weird. I was watching this one part and suddenly my brother was sitting beside me and then he was gone. I don't really believe in ghosts, but I do think there is another dimension where others exist. Be they angels or guardians or whatever they may be. I mean who hasn't felt the present of a departed loved one at some time or another?

Anyway, so there was his brief presence as I thought of the magic of Christmas. There is a magic to Christmas. I hope there is a magic to this entire season for all, no matter their beliefs. But I thought of the magic of Christmas, here he was and then I thought of Emily (my niece). There was a message there. I want her to know the magic of Christmas. I'm afraid the cynicism of my sister in law has denied her the magic. I'm comforted that my sister in law is religious and so you may deny Santa, but hopefully not the miracle of Christmas.

So I was thinking of writing her a letter to talk to her about the magic of Christmas. Then I thought of sending her the book the Polar Express. It is an incredible book. Royce (a sort of faux cousin/aunt) sent it to us. Parker loved trains at the time and it was a such a wonderful tradition to read it. We love the movie too can't remember if some of the lines are from the book or the movie like--"Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see."

So then I began to think. What is the magic of Christmas? My kids have asked me several times over the past few years if I believe in Santa. This is our first Christmas without the mythical Santa (although the Elf still seems to have magic). I always told them "I believe in the magic of Christmas." There is no mistake that things happen at this time of year for a reason. That people go the extra mile, give the extra. That it truly is better to give than it is to receive.

For me the magic is traditions and memories. I love watching the same movies and hearing the same songs. Looking at the Christmas tree and just sitting and looking is a daily activity. I could definitely use a "move the Elf" app because that's a new one on me. The tree, really I just love the tree. And even the hokey Folger's commercials. The kid comes home from college (turns out now he's in the Peace Corps in West Africa) and I cry. I love helping my kids choose gifts for others--be they relatives, friends or strangers. I've actually never been a "happy holidays" kind of gal. I'll say Merry Christmas because I don't believe that my beliefs offend anyone because their beliefs don't offend me. Please wish me a Happy Chanukah or Happy Kwanzaa or Assalamu alaikum-I'm happy to celebrate all.

"The true spirit of Christmas lies in your heart." -Santa The Polar Express

And so in the end I guess we have to find our own magic. But I will also do my best to help others find it too.

Peace on Earth. Pax. Shalom. Assalamu alaikum.

***** As I think about what I wrote last night, I'm afraid it sounds like suicide was the right thing for my brother. I just want to say suicide is NEVER the answer. He may be at peace, but he left Hell on earth for a lot of people. If you or anyone you know ever mentions anything close to killing themselves--make sure they talk to someone. Or talk to someone for them. I wish every single day that my brother had talked to someone. That he had let someone know that he felt the world would be better off without him. Because the world is not better off without him.*****

Girls Dry Your Tears

I've talked a lot with friends about the difference between being a girl mom and a boy mom. I have a friend who firmly believes that there are those who are just meant to be "boy moms." That may be true, but Mollie has several very special women in her life who are "boy moms." Maybe they were put on this earth to help her and be there for her since they didn't have girls. Who knows, she's just a lucky little girl to have extra moms.

Still we struggle. I love her and there is no one I love to snuggle with more. (BTW Anthony doesn't snuggle so it's not a dis at all.) We've always snuggled from the start. She struggled, we snuggled and that solved it. But still, we'll be calling out something and she'll cry because of the way I called it out or the way I didn't call it out or perhaps I just gave her the correct answer too fast. Anthony will come intervene "why is she crying?!?!?" Always because of something I did or didn't do right. Which of course is correct. In its own way.

But tonight I understood. I understood why we struggle and why we must bond in such an intense way. For me it's easy to love my son. He's beautiful, he's smart, he mostly does his work without effort. He's fun to watch in sports. With Mollie it's much harder. She's one of the sweetest children on earth. And yet we struggle. She worries about her weight, I worry about her weight. We talk about it, we act on it, we ignore it. Same thing with her learning style. I know she has a special learning style I just haven't figured out what it is yet. I know she has a gift. I'm just not sure I've figured out what it is yet.

I've heard others, including my own mother, complain about their difficulties with their daughters. Friction. Miscommunication. Assumption. Resentment. But the other night, as we sat with friends and watched My Sister's Keeper, I found the answer. If you haven't seen it, it's really really sad. Mollie looked over at me in the movie and sweetly wiped each tear that fell from my eyes. As one would roll down my cheek, she would wipe it away. I knew in that moment that I need to remember that feeling. Because no matter how we struggle, I knew in that moment that she will be there for me to wipe my tears. And I know also, I need to do a much better job at wiping hers.

Contrary Stance

This made me say wow. It also supports my thoughts that some people are taking a contrary stance, just to be contrary.

I would like to remind the suddenly fiscally concerned Republicans that they marched us into two wars that caused this huge deficit. That their deregulation brought about not just the crash of Wall Street, but even before that the airlines. It's time to start on common ground and build. It's time to stop listening to people who simply want to create controversy--and their livelihoods depend on it.