Communion With My Sister ~ Anonymous

I have communion with my sister every time I visit our childhood church. Whether or not she's physically there, I have communion with her and it is a beautiful thing. No one else knows I do this. Not even my sister.

The church we grew up in is ridiculously conservative. The kind of church that teaches women and the men who rule over them that women should be quiet in church. And while they're at it, they should be quiet everywhere else too. And wear a dress god-damn-it!

On Church Garbage ~ Brad

On Apr 24, 2015, at 11:38am, juliecairns@rogers.com wrote:
OMG!!!!!!!!!!! Please, please let me use this as your story!?!?!?!?

On Apr 24, 2015, at 11:18am, brad@nexuschurch.ca wrote:
Yeah, I get that, I do and I know you will honour them well, that is not what 
I am concerned about. Of course it takes time, but sharing anonymous means there is still fear of being exposed, which in turn means people are still afraid this community might hurt them, betray their trust. I get that trusting a community like Nexus takes time, I do, I know, but it makes me desperate to communicate - YOU ARE SAFE HERE. 

Some Days I Dance ~ Becca

I’ll be honest.
Mental Illness scares the Crap out of me.
Scares me into a panicked paralysis of fear.
The stories you hear.
Voices.
Personality change.
Lack of control.
NO control.
Often no prediction. It seems to touch whoever, whenever,   
no control.

I have depression.
Mental illness scares the Crap out of me.
It took me a long time to say I have depression.
I don’t want it to define me in peoples’ eyes. But sometimes it does define my life. For two years it impacted every single minute of every single day. Then sometimes I could go several minutes without breathing depression. Then I would occasionally get a string of hours. I remember the first weekend I felt like depression had not been a part of that weekend! It is still part of my weekly and usually daily life.

It still scares the Crap out of me.
Sensing that darkness creeping on the edge.
Trying to keep it closed out tight.    
Lurking.
No control.

It is the single most impactful thing in my life.
It is the thing I am most proud of – living, getting to the end of the day while I have depression.
It is also still the thing I am most ashamed of.
Why?

Depression often lurks at the edges of me.
Of my mind.
Of my hope.
Of my day.
I’m scared of falling into that abyss again.
That vacuum of emptiness.
No warning.
No control.

Some days I push it back.
I didn’t used to be able to do this.
I don’t know why I can now.
I am grateful that I can.
I am scared that one day I won’t be able to again.

Some golden days I even forget for a bit that depression has marked my life, become part of my life, embedded itself into my life.

Most days I am learning to dance with it.
Dance with my depression.
My neighbour said that. 
I like that.
I am learning this.
What is dancing with my depression?
I’m not sure.
I am learning this.
It includes silver linings and growth.
It includes laughing in the face of it, at some of the worst of it. At the ridiculousness of it.
It involves lifting up my head. Looking depression in the face. Looking myself in the eyes. And breathing. And sometimes, more than I could ever have thought, it means laughing at this disease that has emptied me of me, Changed everything in me and yes, even given me much; stripped bare and rebuilt.

Some days I pretend, 
some days I push, 
some days I’m engulfed 
and some days… I dance.

Waves - Linda

Endless waves, relentlessly rolling
Constantly seeking the embrace of the shore
Such is her search for happiness
Capturing feeble fragments, but yearning for more.

I Suffer From Mental Illness ~ Story by Paul, Illustrated by Dave

Reflections on Mental Health ~ David

It was with some trepidation that I signed my name to the card handed out at Nexus asking us to reflect on mental health. When I talked about identity and productivity as a core reason for living, sure enough Julie followed up with an email asking me to write out a bit of my story.

My story probably revolves more around the reflections of anyone who uses their mind as their vocation—teachers, professors, scholars, pastors, and many more professions. It is not that I obsess over this, but it is a niggling contemplation in my consciousness. What happens to me if (or when) I lose my capacity to think critically, teach with competence, and contribute to my field of scholarship? Who am I? What am I? What is life like after the loss of such capacity? This was the direction my thoughts went as I wrote out and signed that card.

The Motion of Emotion: the process of creating art, inspired by ones state of mind ~ Laura

There was a time when depression ruled my world. It wasn't my depression. At least it didn't start out as mine.

Over the course of three years, both my spouse and my mother had each fallen into a deep, dark depression.

He had undergone three spinal surgeries. She fell and broke her leg. Then a year to the day, she had another fall and broke her other leg.

I had always been the “fixer,” the “feel better” person, there to help family and friends get through their dark times. But after three years of trying, it was apparent that no matter what I said or did they weren't going to move on. They didn't want to shake off their depression. They owned their “victim” status, they chose to let it rule their existence.

I had failed as a “fixer” …. I fell victim to their depression.

These pieces were created during that time.

Serenity Now ~ Crystal

The hard vintage wood of the dining room chair felt distinctly uncomfortable. The feeling was heightened as one of my dearest friends, Summer, sat across from me, her blue eyes trying to push a truth into mine. I stared blankly back at her.

“Admit it. You’re angry with me,” Summer persisted. “What’s wrong? Let’s talk about it.”

I spluttered. I was frustrated. No, I wasn’t angry. No, I did not want to talk about it. I had no idea what she could possibly mean.

Shelley-Ann’s FB Post from January

I am a big advocate for the Bell Let's Talk campaign. It's time to end the stigma around mental health and join the conversation. It's also about time to share my own story.

I have an anxiety disorder called Emetophobia. I have suffered from this for as long as I can remember. Emetophobia is not quite germophobia. It's a little more specific than that. It's the fear of others vomiting around me and the fear that I might catch it if they do.

Julie's Request

Hi Shelley-Ann and Caroline.

I was wondering if you would consider writing a bit of your story for display at
Glimpses, our mental health Sunday on May 3.

It was really amazing for me to read Shelley-Ann’s FB post on Bell Let’s Talk Day about
how you weren’t ready to share at last year’s Glimpses, but you were ready to share now.
You shared, and then to have Caroline step in and say “Me too!” – WOW!

It was impactful for me for a few different reasons. One, I didn’t appreciate the
debilitating nature of your phobia. When both of you had mentioned having issues
around vomit prior to this post, I kind of put it up there with my issues around spiders.
Through your story, I learned about entire new levels, and began to direct the required
respect and empathy towards it. Two, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in having the
Nexus mental health Sunday mentioned. This exchange was exactly what I was hoping
would come from it: something to combat feelings of isolation, dialogue that could
hopefully lead to helpful discussions. Three, “Me Too’s” mean the world to me,
especially when it comes to mental health. I believe we can improve our health
individually and collectively if we begin to understand how common (and not atypical)
mental health issues are.

Perhaps you’d be willing to write about what it was like for you to discover you shared
the phobia, or what it’s like to talk about it.

Gratefully, Julie

My Nemesis ~ Caroline

Phobias are an interesting nemesis. Something that seems so inconsequential to one person feels like summiting a cliff to another. Every minute. Of every day.

Have you ever had a panic attack before? I hope that you never do.

I suffer from emetophobia, an intense and irrational fear of vomiting. You know that thing that you do to feel better? That thing that while gross and uncomfortable is just an inevitable and unpleasant part of life? Not so for me. Just the thought of it makes me incredibly anxious and afraid. I spend much of my life preoccupied with the possibility that it might happen.

You Make Me Want to (Not) Vomit ~ Shelley-Ann

Inner monologue:
The little girl is getting clingy like she's not feeling well. Don't freak out. It's probably nothing. Kids get like that. All the other kids are fine. It's nothing. It doesn't look like nothing. Breathe. You're ok. She doesn't feel good. Great. Why did I even have to hear her say that? If I hadn't heard her, I wouldn't know and I'd be fine. So they're propping her on the couch with the other kids and giving her a bowl just in case? Oh my God. I cannot do this. Breathe. She threw up? What do I do? WHAT DO I DO???

The Truman Show ~ JP

I am one out of two kids in my family. I am the oldest. Being the oldest is fun. I think it is. When we were young, my brother and I had a good childhood. We went camping. We were in scouts. We went all over to visit museums.

I noticed that my brother and I was drifting apart when we got older. When I was a teenager I had some behavior issues. My parents took me to experts to help me solve these issues. At the same time, my younger brother was having some mental health issues.

I Am a Beloved Child ~ Natalie

A few years ago, one of my amazing counselling studies professors said to the class that being a Christian counsellor gives him the compassion to want to help every person no matter what their mental health struggle. At the end of the day, he sees every single person as a "beloved child of God." It is a reminder that God sees us all as His own, no matter what. We are all beloved children of God. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves of that.

Need Repair ~ Glenn

How I wish I could get away from myself. Even just to have the cause and effect become clear to me. I’m reverberating with anxiety but there is nothing to fear. My affect is flattened hard like a well worn dirt road but I have only reasons for hope and optimism. To feel this bad while my circumstances and life seem so good can only mean that my soul is sick. I’m ill. The thermostat of my mood is out of wack. Heat pumps out of the engine of the mind - smoke pouring out. I can’t get it reset to a healthy range. I need a new part. I need to be taken in for repair. But I drive outta the shop every week or two with the same rattle, the same overheating, the same billowing - broken down on a cloudless day.

Me and Odd Encounters with Buses ~ John

I’ve had a couple odd encounters with buses. I like to drop into conversations about driver training experiences that I hit a bus while taking my test. Sorry, it’s not as intriguing as it sounds.

About five years ago, I was on the receiving end of a bus – albeit a figurative one. But it arguably inflicted the same impact as if I came face to face with a bus’ actual bumper.

It was as if I stepped off the proverbial curb one day exactly as I always do when I got taken out. It was nothing reckless; it sure wasn’t expected; and in retrospect, I didn’t see it coming. At all. I still can’t fully explain it.

Pushing the bus analogy a bit further, it was as if each seat on the bus was occupied by the stuff I’d encountered since I was very young.

Long Drive ~ Murray

For the last five years I have been the major caretaker for my brother. He has been diagnosed with a title I can’t even share it is so difficult to hear. And I know it is tearing him apart. He needed to face the situation or wilt under the hidden problem. I so appreciate the risk he took and it has cost him dearly. Unfortunately people don’t rise to the occasion of helping but so often distance themselves from the person struggling.

Fractured Thoughts ~ Anonymous

Tongue. Qi. Pulse ~ Teresa

I decided to try an acupuncture session to help my depression...and had some sort of emotional release that I can't really explain...and didn't believe would really be possible. I just started crying and crying and crying - not about anything in particular, but just that it needed to come out. And afterward I actually felt emotionally lighter, which is impossible to describe. My mind is still blown. But I suppose this is one of the mysteries of the human body/mind/spirit - things are far more interconnected than I think or believe.

------------------

Tongue:
The acupuncture practitioner starts the session by examining your
tongue and taking your pulse. Those are physical indications of what
is happening in your body/mind (as I've learned, the tongue is the
only uncovered muscle in the body and its characteristics say a lot
about what is happening and they can make a 'diagnosis' of sorts based
on how it looks. And when compared with the pulse, it gives a sense
of whether something is more of the body or of the mind.




Qi:
From my research - acupuncture can help to restore your "qi" - your
energy flow, and in Chinese medicine a disruption in your energy flow
is a disruption to all your systems and is generally the cause of
health problems. So to me, this speaks to the whole idea that
mind/body/spirit are completely interconnected.

Pulse
Physically though, your can feel a pulse. It's something you can feel
with your hand or listen to with your ears. And its 'job' is to keep
the physical flow of everything in your body going. I love that a
pulse is a physical reminder of that interconnectedness; its
characteristics can tell you so much about what is happening in the
body that you can't see. And I could feel myself relax after the
acupuncture, which would have settled my pulse, which also helps
settle my mind. It's all intertwined.

Windows ~ Linda

Always outside, looking in
Yearning for the warmth of those within
They are oblivious to the cold outside;
That is her pain and isolation.
She does not blame them,
She wishes to be one of them.

*be sure to check out this image that pairs so perfectly with these words