Thursday, August 28, 2014
The id Post: To Pledge, or Not to Pledge? Pledge to a Fantasy?
The id Post: To Pledge, or Not to Pledge? Pledge to a Fantasy?: by Irene Daniel Every now and again, a friend sends around a post reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, affirming same, and encouraging other...
To Pledge, or Not to Pledge? Pledge to a Fantasy?
by Irene Daniel
Every now and again, a friend sends around a post reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, affirming same, and encouraging others to post and share. "I grew up saying 'the Pledge' every day, and that's what once made America great," they suggest to the rest of us. Is that so?
Well, I grew up saying the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag every day too, and I grew up to have my heart broken when I realized that "liberty and justice for all," were just empty words. They simply didn't apply to me. 'Justice for all'? Since when?
When has there ever been liberty and justice for all in the USA? When I voice my curiosity at the perennial ability of Americans to suspend disbelief, and encourage rote memorization and repetition -- in a very chant-like manner I might add -- of a solemn oath to something that does not yet exist, I invariably get a response expressing horror at what this country is becoming; and bemoaning "what this country once stood for!" Something like that.
Certainly, none of us can pretend that 'liberty and justice for all' were even remotely present in the metropolitan area of St. Louis, MO, this month of August, 2014; wherein -- not once, but twice within a two-week period -- a young and unarmed black man was shot down like a rabid dog in the street by a white police officer. Shooting young blacks is not, unfortunately, a rare occurrence in these United States. What happened in Ferguson, MO and a neighboring community a few miles away, happens twice a week here in the land of the free and the home of the brave, that brainwashes its children into pledging to the falseness of "liberty and justice for all."
So, how about westward expansion, or what the white man calls ‘manifest destiny’? The indigenous call this the American Holocaust, in which Andrew Jackson and his racist ilk destroyed more lives over a greater period of time than Adolf Hitler could have ever dreamed of during his much shorter reign of terror. Those were the good ol' days, huh?
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
Every now and again, a friend sends around a post reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, affirming same, and encouraging others to post and share. "I grew up saying 'the Pledge' every day, and that's what once made America great," they suggest to the rest of us. Is that so?
Well, I grew up saying the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag every day too, and I grew up to have my heart broken when I realized that "liberty and justice for all," were just empty words. They simply didn't apply to me. 'Justice for all'? Since when?
When has there ever been liberty and justice for all in the USA? When I voice my curiosity at the perennial ability of Americans to suspend disbelief, and encourage rote memorization and repetition -- in a very chant-like manner I might add -- of a solemn oath to something that does not yet exist, I invariably get a response expressing horror at what this country is becoming; and bemoaning "what this country once stood for!" Something like that.
“What this country once stood for?” What does that mean? Let’s go back to the beginning when USA stood for slavery. Is that when we were great? Separate, but equal?
When, I ask you, was there a time that liberty and justice were in abundance for black people, whose labor was stolen for generation upon generation? And as if that weren't enough to ensure generations of extreme poverty, of the flesh as well as the Spirit, the finally "free" generations of Americans of African descent were red-lined out of the best housing and education for their families. Is that what America once stood for that is worthy of our praise?Certainly, none of us can pretend that 'liberty and justice for all' were even remotely present in the metropolitan area of St. Louis, MO, this month of August, 2014; wherein -- not once, but twice within a two-week period -- a young and unarmed black man was shot down like a rabid dog in the street by a white police officer. Shooting young blacks is not, unfortunately, a rare occurrence in these United States. What happened in Ferguson, MO and a neighboring community a few miles away, happens twice a week here in the land of the free and the home of the brave, that brainwashes its children into pledging to the falseness of "liberty and justice for all."
So, how about westward expansion, or what the white man calls ‘manifest destiny’? The indigenous call this the American Holocaust, in which Andrew Jackson and his racist ilk destroyed more lives over a greater period of time than Adolf Hitler could have ever dreamed of during his much shorter reign of terror. Those were the good ol' days, huh?
How about WWII, when FDR, one of my heroes,
interned Japanese-American citizens for no other reason than their ancestry? And
even while many of those interned and ripped-off and dehumanized had family
members fighting for this “pledge,” that clearly did not apply to
them? Liberty and justice for all?
The truth is, and unfortunately a fact of which most privileged white people
remain blissfully ignorant, that this “land of freedom” has NEVER lived up to
the words in that pledge – NEVER! It is only within the last 50 years that this
nation has even begun to walk its talk, and falteringly so, I might add. And only
within the last few years have non-heteros even begun to enjoy basic human rights
that white heterosexual men have always taken for granted, here in the land of the free.
So, what this country “once stood
for” is the right of white mediocrity and ignorance to enjoy success at the
expense of “the other.” White men, especially those with means, have always
enjoyed an unjust enrichment because they were able to grossly, and often
violently, and usually legally, exploit everybody else. Teaching children that
we are what we have never been is just white-washing the true American story.
Perhaps, if we taught children that this standard is what we strive for, and
have often failed to achieve, then it might be worth the time it takes to say
the words.
This fall semester of school, it is estimated that nonwhite, ethnic minorities will make up 50.3% of the public school population. I would prefer that these children be taught that this pledge is not reality, but an ideal -- a good one, one worth striving toward. And in so doing, teach our children that what makes this country great is that we are the only one that has continually strived to create that, "more perfect union," and have continued to do so for 238 years. That striving is what separates us from the rest of the world, not memorizing a cheap fantasy.
I don't hate the Pledge, or my beloved country. I love the USA enough to pledge to continue to strive toward an idea of liberty that, to this very day, is extraordinary and forever revolutionary; albeit as imperfect as are we humans.
What makes the United States of America great is that we keep moving forward, chasing an ideal worthy of each and every one of its citizens. Now that is something worthy of us.
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
Thursday, August 21, 2014
The id Post: Major Depression and Me: What Works, What Doesn't
The id Post: Major Depression and Me: What Works, What Doesn't: by Irene Daniel Last week I received an overwhelmingly positive response to my piece about my personal experience with anxiety and depress...
Major Depression and Me: What Works, What Doesn't
by Irene Daniel
Last week I received an overwhelmingly positive response to my piece about my personal experience with anxiety and depression. It made my birthday even more special than it already was, and I thank all of you who expressed your loving support for sharing some of my darkest moments.
This week, even though there is so much happening in the world that I care about and want to write about, I choose to offer a few more words about my experience in darkness. However, rather than just sharing horror stories (I think we all have plenty of those), I want to shed some light on all that darkness, and talk about what works for me, and what doesn't. I have no illusions about creating some kind of movement or program or religion. (We have plenty of those too.) I have no "magic" answer to anyone's woes. All I have is my experience, and at this time, I believe that it may be valuable to you or someone you know.
First and foremost, I have to say that I am just lucky that my appetitive and addictive nature first manifested itself in something that was actually good for me; and that is reading. (Actually, I think my first addiction was food and reading was second -- just to keep it honest here.) My love for the printed word, which led to a love for writing, manifested itself early, even before my first day of school. So, I am lucky in this respect, for my love for reading and knowledge enabled me to get a stellar education -- all the way to UCLA Law School.
More importantly though, is the fact that I have kept a personal journal since I was 19 years old. Every year around my birthday, I randomly choose one to read. This year, I happened to choose the one that recorded my first year of law school. What a terrifying time! And when I revisit my past experiences, my journals remind me of what I have already overcome in my life, with fewer resources and less self-confidence than my current state. Journaling has provided me with, not only a manner in which to record my life experiences, but a very personal and honest mirror reflecting my own strength back to me.
Okay, maybe you're not a writer. Maybe English was your worst subject. No matter. What I have found to be a universal truth is that everyone, and I mean EVERY SINGLE PERSON has something special and unique to offer that is theirs alone. I can say this because I know that my father, with whom I had no contact after age 11, and never made it past 3rd grade, had a special gift for fixing things. Even my mother would admit that throughout their marriage, she never had to call a handy-man or a plumber or an electrician or a carpenter, for anything. My dad could fix it and/or make it work. That was his gift. And even though I often feel robbed of his gentle presence in my life, I am glad that he was able to use his gifts to improve his station in life, from sweeping out the machine shop at Magma Copper, to operating equipment, and always improving himself. Everyone has a gift. No exceptions. Find yours, whatever it is. Even if it doesn't make you a millionaire, even if it is a hobby or past-time, find your specialness. It is there.
I do realize, however, that finding your talent may be difficult, or even impossible, when you are swimming in darkness. This darkness may manifest in many ways that deprive us of our ability to see ourselves for who we truly are. Addiction, depression and hopelessness make it difficult to find the light. Even though I was very gifted in language arts, there were many times in my life that I could not see it, could not manifest success therefrom. I self-medicated with alcohol, drugs, sex, education, money, prestige. None of it was ever enough because I was never enough without those things. None of that ever fixed me. I kept wanting it to, but it never did. No matter how much education or money I had, it was never enough because I wasn't enough. Period. Full stop.
So, let's start with simple daily life. This is what works for me. It might not work for you, and if that is the case that does not mean that you are hopeless, or in any way "less than." You reading this -- YOU ARE SPECIAL!! And you are worthy of good self-care. So let's start there. The following is a list of things I do to maintain a sense of serenity and peace each day.
1. Good self-care: For me, this includes a daily appreciation of my person by engaging in the following:
a. Basic Hygiene -- This may seem simple, but for someone who has spent days living in the same pair of sweats and a t-shirt, without bathing or even brushing my teeth and washing my face, it's not as simple as it sounds. This is a very common experience for those afflicted. If you recognize yourself here, take a shower and clean up a bit. You'll feel better.
b. Diet -- I don't mean counting calories, or cutting out sweets and fats, although these are not good for you when taken in excess. This is just about eating protein, green and yellow vegetables and drinking plenty of water. Maybe you don't like vegetables. Find one that you do like. When my son was a child, I never made him eat food that he really didn't like, but I made a deal with him on vegetables. If I was serving a vegetable with which he was unfamiliar, he had to at least try it. If he didn't like it, he could have a raw carrot, which he loved. Surely, you can think of at least one thing that's good for you that you like. You are worth the healthy diet you feed yourself. Invest in you!
c. Exercise -- Even taking a 20-30 minute walk every day is helpful. When I was in law school I ran 20-30 miles a week. My stress level was so high at that time that it warranted this extraordinary amount of running. These days, I do some basic exercises a few times a week and take my dog for a 30 minute walk at least once a day, sometimes twice. Do what you can. Start from where you are and know that you are investing energy in your own well-being.
2. Spiritual Ritual -- I realize that this may be challenging for some of us who are, plainly and simply, just pissed-off at God; as well as non-believers. Well, I've been there. I was brought up to be a good Mexican Catholic girl. It didn't hold. From my first Catechism class, I had more questions than answers. However, I never stopped searching for a Spiritual answer. I never found it until I created my own daily ritual which includes all of the findings of my Spiritual quest. This includes liberal use of Hail Marys, 12-step readings, Scripture from various disciplines, the Tao and journaling. This is what I have created that works for me. Find your way to connect to your soul, for it is the only part of you that lives forever.
3. Have Fun -- Whatever makes you laugh or smile, whether it's a funny old movie, a good book, hanging out with friends, riding a bike, whatever. You deserve to be happy and loved.
4. Stay Connected -- This may be the most important activity of all. I tend to be really bad at this. I like solitude, which in and of itself is not a bad thing. But when I am swimming in the darkness of depression, I can go for a long time without returning phone calls or correspondence. Those who know me well, are lovingly patient with me in this regard. Sometimes I have to make a real effort to pick up the 500 pound telephone. When I do, I am always relieved and grateful. I feel whole knowing that I am loved, and in order for people to express their love, I need to show up for myself. Moreover, it is really a blessing to be loved by someone, and a double-blessing to show them how much their love matters to you. Like I said, I need to work at this one. But I know that I am worth the effort.
These are just a few examples of what works for me. And if one of these practices doesn't get me out of my funk, I go to another tool, and another and another; until I get relief. My life-long Spiritual quest has provided me with many arrows in my quiver to draw out and direct at the darkness that surrounds me at times. I am happy to have an opportunity to share them, for then they multiply in the relief they bring.
Maybe you have a particular practice that you would like to share with me and/or others. Please do. I am insatiably curious about everything.
It really all comes down to loving one's self. I have spent many precious hours yelling at myself in the mirror when I was unhappy. I don't do that anymore.
Whatever it is that I have to do to be happy, whatever effort, inconvenience, embarrassment or expense, I will use one or multiple tools that I have learned, to find that light.
I am worth it -- and so are you!
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
Last week I received an overwhelmingly positive response to my piece about my personal experience with anxiety and depression. It made my birthday even more special than it already was, and I thank all of you who expressed your loving support for sharing some of my darkest moments.
This week, even though there is so much happening in the world that I care about and want to write about, I choose to offer a few more words about my experience in darkness. However, rather than just sharing horror stories (I think we all have plenty of those), I want to shed some light on all that darkness, and talk about what works for me, and what doesn't. I have no illusions about creating some kind of movement or program or religion. (We have plenty of those too.) I have no "magic" answer to anyone's woes. All I have is my experience, and at this time, I believe that it may be valuable to you or someone you know.
First and foremost, I have to say that I am just lucky that my appetitive and addictive nature first manifested itself in something that was actually good for me; and that is reading. (Actually, I think my first addiction was food and reading was second -- just to keep it honest here.) My love for the printed word, which led to a love for writing, manifested itself early, even before my first day of school. So, I am lucky in this respect, for my love for reading and knowledge enabled me to get a stellar education -- all the way to UCLA Law School.
More importantly though, is the fact that I have kept a personal journal since I was 19 years old. Every year around my birthday, I randomly choose one to read. This year, I happened to choose the one that recorded my first year of law school. What a terrifying time! And when I revisit my past experiences, my journals remind me of what I have already overcome in my life, with fewer resources and less self-confidence than my current state. Journaling has provided me with, not only a manner in which to record my life experiences, but a very personal and honest mirror reflecting my own strength back to me.
Okay, maybe you're not a writer. Maybe English was your worst subject. No matter. What I have found to be a universal truth is that everyone, and I mean EVERY SINGLE PERSON has something special and unique to offer that is theirs alone. I can say this because I know that my father, with whom I had no contact after age 11, and never made it past 3rd grade, had a special gift for fixing things. Even my mother would admit that throughout their marriage, she never had to call a handy-man or a plumber or an electrician or a carpenter, for anything. My dad could fix it and/or make it work. That was his gift. And even though I often feel robbed of his gentle presence in my life, I am glad that he was able to use his gifts to improve his station in life, from sweeping out the machine shop at Magma Copper, to operating equipment, and always improving himself. Everyone has a gift. No exceptions. Find yours, whatever it is. Even if it doesn't make you a millionaire, even if it is a hobby or past-time, find your specialness. It is there.
I do realize, however, that finding your talent may be difficult, or even impossible, when you are swimming in darkness. This darkness may manifest in many ways that deprive us of our ability to see ourselves for who we truly are. Addiction, depression and hopelessness make it difficult to find the light. Even though I was very gifted in language arts, there were many times in my life that I could not see it, could not manifest success therefrom. I self-medicated with alcohol, drugs, sex, education, money, prestige. None of it was ever enough because I was never enough without those things. None of that ever fixed me. I kept wanting it to, but it never did. No matter how much education or money I had, it was never enough because I wasn't enough. Period. Full stop.
So, let's start with simple daily life. This is what works for me. It might not work for you, and if that is the case that does not mean that you are hopeless, or in any way "less than." You reading this -- YOU ARE SPECIAL!! And you are worthy of good self-care. So let's start there. The following is a list of things I do to maintain a sense of serenity and peace each day.
1. Good self-care: For me, this includes a daily appreciation of my person by engaging in the following:
a. Basic Hygiene -- This may seem simple, but for someone who has spent days living in the same pair of sweats and a t-shirt, without bathing or even brushing my teeth and washing my face, it's not as simple as it sounds. This is a very common experience for those afflicted. If you recognize yourself here, take a shower and clean up a bit. You'll feel better.
b. Diet -- I don't mean counting calories, or cutting out sweets and fats, although these are not good for you when taken in excess. This is just about eating protein, green and yellow vegetables and drinking plenty of water. Maybe you don't like vegetables. Find one that you do like. When my son was a child, I never made him eat food that he really didn't like, but I made a deal with him on vegetables. If I was serving a vegetable with which he was unfamiliar, he had to at least try it. If he didn't like it, he could have a raw carrot, which he loved. Surely, you can think of at least one thing that's good for you that you like. You are worth the healthy diet you feed yourself. Invest in you!
c. Exercise -- Even taking a 20-30 minute walk every day is helpful. When I was in law school I ran 20-30 miles a week. My stress level was so high at that time that it warranted this extraordinary amount of running. These days, I do some basic exercises a few times a week and take my dog for a 30 minute walk at least once a day, sometimes twice. Do what you can. Start from where you are and know that you are investing energy in your own well-being.
2. Spiritual Ritual -- I realize that this may be challenging for some of us who are, plainly and simply, just pissed-off at God; as well as non-believers. Well, I've been there. I was brought up to be a good Mexican Catholic girl. It didn't hold. From my first Catechism class, I had more questions than answers. However, I never stopped searching for a Spiritual answer. I never found it until I created my own daily ritual which includes all of the findings of my Spiritual quest. This includes liberal use of Hail Marys, 12-step readings, Scripture from various disciplines, the Tao and journaling. This is what I have created that works for me. Find your way to connect to your soul, for it is the only part of you that lives forever.
3. Have Fun -- Whatever makes you laugh or smile, whether it's a funny old movie, a good book, hanging out with friends, riding a bike, whatever. You deserve to be happy and loved.
4. Stay Connected -- This may be the most important activity of all. I tend to be really bad at this. I like solitude, which in and of itself is not a bad thing. But when I am swimming in the darkness of depression, I can go for a long time without returning phone calls or correspondence. Those who know me well, are lovingly patient with me in this regard. Sometimes I have to make a real effort to pick up the 500 pound telephone. When I do, I am always relieved and grateful. I feel whole knowing that I am loved, and in order for people to express their love, I need to show up for myself. Moreover, it is really a blessing to be loved by someone, and a double-blessing to show them how much their love matters to you. Like I said, I need to work at this one. But I know that I am worth the effort.
These are just a few examples of what works for me. And if one of these practices doesn't get me out of my funk, I go to another tool, and another and another; until I get relief. My life-long Spiritual quest has provided me with many arrows in my quiver to draw out and direct at the darkness that surrounds me at times. I am happy to have an opportunity to share them, for then they multiply in the relief they bring.
Maybe you have a particular practice that you would like to share with me and/or others. Please do. I am insatiably curious about everything.
It really all comes down to loving one's self. I have spent many precious hours yelling at myself in the mirror when I was unhappy. I don't do that anymore.
Whatever it is that I have to do to be happy, whatever effort, inconvenience, embarrassment or expense, I will use one or multiple tools that I have learned, to find that light.
I am worth it -- and so are you!
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
Thursday, August 14, 2014
The id Post: Robin Williams and the Dark Side of Life
The id Post: Robin Williams and the Dark Side of Life: by Irene Daniel I was having a bad day Monday. That's how it is with depression; some days are just dark, especially in times of stres...
Robin Williams and the Dark Side of Life
by Irene Daniel
I was having a bad day Monday. That's how it is with depression; some days are just dark, especially in times of stress and change. As I am in the process of divorcing my husband and selling the home that I love, I've had some bad days around it all.
So, I called my BFF since 4th grade and we talked for almost two hours. I felt so much better after our talk because I knew that I had value to -- at least -- this one person in the world right now. I felt unconditionally loved, and knowing this helped me to remember that she is not the only person in the world who loves me, and that my life really is a gift.
Then, I went back to my computer and learned about the death of Robin Williams. As I learned more details about the violent manner in which he took his life, I just cried and cried. I was glad that I had just talked to my friend, for the darkness and depth of severe depression can smother me like a blanket, and can be exacerbated by sad news. That could have been me -- many times in my life.
The first time I attempted suicide, I was eight years old. I took a butcher knife out of the kitchen drawer one night, and put it to my wrist. I couldn't go farther than that, not at that time. Many times throughout my life, I have often thought that driving my car off a cliff would be a great solution to all my woes. I can't even count how many times I thought about it.
In the fall of 1991, after failing the California Bar Exam, in the presence of my then boyfriend, his children and my 11 year old son, I announced that I was going to kill myself. I was also very drunk at the time. I will never completely know what that did to those children, but it messed up my kid for a long time -- a long time. It was years before he felt that he could trust me emotionally again. It took a lot of hard work to get that trust back. As a result, I made a promise to my only child that I would never, ever do that again.
I have never shared this story publicly. Only a few of my closest friends ever knew. And I never wanted to share this story. I never thought that I could ever be at peace with that moment, much less feel compelled to share it. But tell it I must because I have to admit today that even such a horrible moment in my life was a real blessing to me. I am not only unashamed of it, but grateful that it happened at all.
You see, had I not made that firm commitment to my son, I might be dead right now. For the past two and a half years I have been in the grips of extreme anxiety and severe depression. My mother died in the spring of 2012. Shortly thereafter my high school principal, and a dear family friend who was always looking out for my mom and our family, also died. Then, in August of 2012, I lost my Uncle John, my hero. All of this loss sent me into a tailspin, and that is where I have been ever since. I thought about killing myself a lot during this time. I would awake feeling angry to have to be alive. I wanted out, out, OUT of here. Thank God for the promise I made or I would have taken that deadly drive. My son saved my life -- over and over again. Only recently have I begun to feel really lucky and happy about being alive -- for the first time in my life.
I've suffered from depression all my life. My maternal grandmother killed herself with rat poison at the age of 52 in the throes of menopause. My mother was always extremely anxious and probably suffered from some kind of psychosis, for which she would never seek any treatment. She verbally and physically abused her children in fits of uncontrollable rage instead. It took a long time, a lot of therapy and medication for me to be able to see past her illness and be emotionally reconciled with her before she died. My father's side of the family is also replete with cases of mental illness or disorder. The fact that I suffered some pretty serious trauma as a very young child could only have exacerbated what I inherited.
Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 58 -- six years more than my grandmother, for whom I am named. I think of her often, even though I never had the privilege to know her. And I am here to tell you that it was the happiest birthday I have ever had, just because I am alive and actually glad to be alive. Even though I am having to jettison many things precious to me to stay alive, I know that I have lost nothing. Because I AM ALIVE!! That's it! That's all I need today. It took a lot of hard work, therapy and medication to get to a point where I feel happy just to be alive. So now I see my life as a huge success -- just because I am alive. I made it through all that darkness.
I've never felt that I belonged in this world. I felt alien always, like I just didn't get what the big whoop was all about. Why am I here? That's how I felt. Even though I have many blessings -- the greatest being my son and grandson -- when I am in my darkness I cannot see it, cannot connect with it at all. None of that seems to matter. To those fortunate non-sufferers, depression looks a lot like sloth. It's not. It is a gripping, all-encompassing immobility, physically and emotionally.
I share this story because social stigma remains the primary reason that many people will not seek treatment for mental illness. 34,000 people commit suicide in this country every year. For every one of them that succeeds, there are 20 others who attempt suicide. It is the second-leading cause of disability in the workplace, and depression boasts of a 15% mortality rate. Aside from this, it robs all of us of the joy we could be living and sharing.
Maybe someone reading this will recognize themselves in my words. Maybe they will pick up the phone and call a friend or a psychiatrist or a hot-line. Maybe somebody will be inspired to remember to take their meds, just like I do every night. Maybe someone will go for a walk instead of taking a bottle of pills. Maybe, maybe, maybe -- just maybe -- this writing will encourage just one person, and help that one person to see that he or she is not a throw-away item, but a precious jewel.
Robin Williams once suggested to those suffering from depression that they reach out to someone, and to know that they are loved. How we all wish that he could have done that, instead of isolating and withdrawing the way depressed people do. The only way I know of to honor him is to share my story, as unflattering as it may be, for the more we hide ourselves away in shame, the more of us will die. It really is that simple for me.
Farewell to our alien friend. Thank you for your life and love. And, for me personally, thanks for the wake-up call. I hear you. I choose life today. I choose joy. I insist on doing whatever I need to do to keep that darkness at bay and to celebrate my imperfect human life.
I needed a lot of help to get here, and I may need more help again. I am not afraid of myself or my life anymore. I have never known more joy and freedom, and I didn't get here all by myself.
If you need help, please, please, please -- REACH OUT!!
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
I was having a bad day Monday. That's how it is with depression; some days are just dark, especially in times of stress and change. As I am in the process of divorcing my husband and selling the home that I love, I've had some bad days around it all.
So, I called my BFF since 4th grade and we talked for almost two hours. I felt so much better after our talk because I knew that I had value to -- at least -- this one person in the world right now. I felt unconditionally loved, and knowing this helped me to remember that she is not the only person in the world who loves me, and that my life really is a gift.
Then, I went back to my computer and learned about the death of Robin Williams. As I learned more details about the violent manner in which he took his life, I just cried and cried. I was glad that I had just talked to my friend, for the darkness and depth of severe depression can smother me like a blanket, and can be exacerbated by sad news. That could have been me -- many times in my life.
The first time I attempted suicide, I was eight years old. I took a butcher knife out of the kitchen drawer one night, and put it to my wrist. I couldn't go farther than that, not at that time. Many times throughout my life, I have often thought that driving my car off a cliff would be a great solution to all my woes. I can't even count how many times I thought about it.
In the fall of 1991, after failing the California Bar Exam, in the presence of my then boyfriend, his children and my 11 year old son, I announced that I was going to kill myself. I was also very drunk at the time. I will never completely know what that did to those children, but it messed up my kid for a long time -- a long time. It was years before he felt that he could trust me emotionally again. It took a lot of hard work to get that trust back. As a result, I made a promise to my only child that I would never, ever do that again.
I have never shared this story publicly. Only a few of my closest friends ever knew. And I never wanted to share this story. I never thought that I could ever be at peace with that moment, much less feel compelled to share it. But tell it I must because I have to admit today that even such a horrible moment in my life was a real blessing to me. I am not only unashamed of it, but grateful that it happened at all.
You see, had I not made that firm commitment to my son, I might be dead right now. For the past two and a half years I have been in the grips of extreme anxiety and severe depression. My mother died in the spring of 2012. Shortly thereafter my high school principal, and a dear family friend who was always looking out for my mom and our family, also died. Then, in August of 2012, I lost my Uncle John, my hero. All of this loss sent me into a tailspin, and that is where I have been ever since. I thought about killing myself a lot during this time. I would awake feeling angry to have to be alive. I wanted out, out, OUT of here. Thank God for the promise I made or I would have taken that deadly drive. My son saved my life -- over and over again. Only recently have I begun to feel really lucky and happy about being alive -- for the first time in my life.
I've suffered from depression all my life. My maternal grandmother killed herself with rat poison at the age of 52 in the throes of menopause. My mother was always extremely anxious and probably suffered from some kind of psychosis, for which she would never seek any treatment. She verbally and physically abused her children in fits of uncontrollable rage instead. It took a long time, a lot of therapy and medication for me to be able to see past her illness and be emotionally reconciled with her before she died. My father's side of the family is also replete with cases of mental illness or disorder. The fact that I suffered some pretty serious trauma as a very young child could only have exacerbated what I inherited.
Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 58 -- six years more than my grandmother, for whom I am named. I think of her often, even though I never had the privilege to know her. And I am here to tell you that it was the happiest birthday I have ever had, just because I am alive and actually glad to be alive. Even though I am having to jettison many things precious to me to stay alive, I know that I have lost nothing. Because I AM ALIVE!! That's it! That's all I need today. It took a lot of hard work, therapy and medication to get to a point where I feel happy just to be alive. So now I see my life as a huge success -- just because I am alive. I made it through all that darkness.
I've never felt that I belonged in this world. I felt alien always, like I just didn't get what the big whoop was all about. Why am I here? That's how I felt. Even though I have many blessings -- the greatest being my son and grandson -- when I am in my darkness I cannot see it, cannot connect with it at all. None of that seems to matter. To those fortunate non-sufferers, depression looks a lot like sloth. It's not. It is a gripping, all-encompassing immobility, physically and emotionally.
I share this story because social stigma remains the primary reason that many people will not seek treatment for mental illness. 34,000 people commit suicide in this country every year. For every one of them that succeeds, there are 20 others who attempt suicide. It is the second-leading cause of disability in the workplace, and depression boasts of a 15% mortality rate. Aside from this, it robs all of us of the joy we could be living and sharing.
Maybe someone reading this will recognize themselves in my words. Maybe they will pick up the phone and call a friend or a psychiatrist or a hot-line. Maybe somebody will be inspired to remember to take their meds, just like I do every night. Maybe someone will go for a walk instead of taking a bottle of pills. Maybe, maybe, maybe -- just maybe -- this writing will encourage just one person, and help that one person to see that he or she is not a throw-away item, but a precious jewel.
Robin Williams once suggested to those suffering from depression that they reach out to someone, and to know that they are loved. How we all wish that he could have done that, instead of isolating and withdrawing the way depressed people do. The only way I know of to honor him is to share my story, as unflattering as it may be, for the more we hide ourselves away in shame, the more of us will die. It really is that simple for me.
Farewell to our alien friend. Thank you for your life and love. And, for me personally, thanks for the wake-up call. I hear you. I choose life today. I choose joy. I insist on doing whatever I need to do to keep that darkness at bay and to celebrate my imperfect human life.
I needed a lot of help to get here, and I may need more help again. I am not afraid of myself or my life anymore. I have never known more joy and freedom, and I didn't get here all by myself.
If you need help, please, please, please -- REACH OUT!!
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
Thursday, August 7, 2014
The id Post: Andee's Garden
The id Post: Andee's Garden: by Irene Daniel Many greens on display and various shades of purple; sweet orange and yellow fruit hang from the trees. Small creatur...
Andee's Garden
by Irene Daniel
Many greens on display
and various shades of purple;
sweet orange and yellow fruit
hang from the trees.
Small creatures dance about,
furry scurriers and winged beauties;
and then a lovely little bird
alights upon a branch nearby.
What a magnificent spectacle!
All dressed in blue
with a white underbelly,
the bluebird of happiness
come to chase away
my aggressive sorrow?
And now it's flown away.
It doesn't need to hang around,
for there are other trees
and other gardens.
Another's blues to chase away?
And I am left in all this splendor,
reminded of the fleeting
constancy of
the illusions
of happiness
and sorrow.
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
Many greens on display
and various shades of purple;
sweet orange and yellow fruit
hang from the trees.
Small creatures dance about,
furry scurriers and winged beauties;
and then a lovely little bird
alights upon a branch nearby.
What a magnificent spectacle!
All dressed in blue
with a white underbelly,
the bluebird of happiness
come to chase away
my aggressive sorrow?
And now it's flown away.
It doesn't need to hang around,
for there are other trees
and other gardens.
Another's blues to chase away?
And I am left in all this splendor,
reminded of the fleeting
constancy of
the illusions
of happiness
and sorrow.
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
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