Noticing Signs and Helping

I'm going to attempt to rewrite something I worked on earlier but lost thanks to the horrid Blogger app. Here goes:

There are people in the world you love like crazy and it sucks when they let you down. Whether it's a selfish behavior, a condescending tone, or just not having your back, these behaviors can leave an already wounded person confused and at a loss for where to go.

I've been very busy, had a severe break from reality, and have been working on art pieces that deal with mental health. Today I had the opportunity to do a much needed pattern interrupt. This would have been at no cost to me and come with a host of benefits: vitamin D, a change in scenery, ability to complete my photography homework, etc. This was important to me and I did not get to go. Before I go into what happened, let me explain about pattern interrupts and about people who leave long term mental health care.

A pattern interrupt is just what it sounds like. It is something to break up the monotony of routine. This is a device especially useful for people suffering bouts of depression. When a pattern is mindless, it allows people to dwell and inadvertently exacerbate their depression. Changing one behavior forces the brain- and thereby all the chemicals- to adjust. Even if it is still the wrong chemical, the change on chemicals can help lift one out of a depressive and emotionally vulnerable state.

How did I learn all this awesomeness? I spent seven months in a long term treatment facility in 2011. When I left, I compiled a wellness recovery action plan or WRAP for short. The plan was given to three people who were even verified by my doctor and signed the document upon receipt.

In the plan are many useful tools for helping your friend or loved one during serious phases of mental and emotional distress. This includes doctors that have cared for them, medicines that work, medicines that don't, triggers, warning signs of behavioral changes, diets that help, calling techniques the person has successfully used, smells, pictures, so much information...

So, I live with one of the people who has a WRAP manual. I generally count on this person to have my back, support me, help me when I need it. I have been in a very dark place these past few months. I have been on the verge of suicide. At one point, I even asked to be driven to the hospital in my car because my hallucinations were bad and I was too afraid to drive. I was told to sleep it off.

I have been informed by another WRAP owner, that this person has never read the book. This person, whom I care for dearly, didn't even bother to learn about my illness and the warning signs. Okay, I know what many of you are thinking: you're a grown up, help yourself. Why don't you just feel better? Aren't you responsible for your own health?

Fair questions. Let me respond.

Yes, at the very root of it, I am responsible for my own health. Part of me being responsible was letting people around me know the warning signs. I liken it to a diabetic having her friends notice her shaking and telling her to check her insulin levels. Noticing one thing could potentially save someone you love. Letting my loved ones know was my attempt at securing the help I need even faster instead of waiting until it was too late. You would help someone who broke their leg, right? I had a break from reality.

And contrary to popular belief, mental illness is real. People with asthma can't think their airways clear, people with cancer aren't being dramatic, people with the flu aren't doing it for attention. Quit saying that about my brain. It is also an organ and capable of sickness.

So, back to today.

I had a friend of mine offer just what I was needed (see pattern interrupt above) and I said yes. Person one decided I couldn't because we always have the same plans Thursdays and I can't just cancel. There was even a mini guilt trip. Okay. This is important to you. Fine. I'm confused.

It's okay. I won't commit suicide today and I have my tattoo to thank for it. I have to believe every single day that I'm going to be okay.

I had a stranger walk up to me Tuesday evening and said she saw that I looked lost.. I wasn't crying or pouting, I was standing next to my car. She gave me a hug. She said, "it's okay."

I was shocked. This stranger reminded me that there is hope. We can help each other. We should help each other.

I believe I will move on.
I believe I will find a group of people that care about others instead of just taking from others.
I believe that mental illness can be treated.
I believe that we need to talk about it more and educate people about early symptoms.
I believe I will make it out alive.

My illness doesn't define me but how you react to my illness says a lot about you. Educate yourselves. It could save a life.

A Retro Review: Digital Fortress

I know lots of people are Dan Brown fans. My mother is one of those people. I have a nook and lots of time, right now, so I figured I would give it a try. Sort of one of those "Mom reads these books and she doesn't read a whole lot, so it should be okay, right?" Plus, I wanted to read his few books in order (not succession, that is far too large for Mr. Brown) which took me to his first: Digital Fortress.

Published in 1998, Dan Brown's first novel takes place in Seville, Spain and in DC at the NSA's headquarters. The two main characters, Susan Fletcher and David Becker, are working two sides of a problem that include computer algorithms and encoded rings. The story starts simply enough: Becker, a linguist, gets called to pick up a passkey from someone in Spain. Meanwhile, Fletcher does what she does best and attempts to break a code that has the NSA's main computer - TRANSLTR - stuck in an endless loop typical of a virus. Why no one had checked the encryption key it was processing for mutation strings sooner is beyond me, but that is the way the story rolls.

Anyway... there are car/bus/Vespa chases, a fight, murders left and right, a hit man, and a Catholic church in this book. Of course, our hero tag team saves the day, the second in command goes crazy and stuff, everything fits at the last second.... blah blah.

Personally, I couldn't get into this book. It should not have taken me this long to read the almost 300 pages of ridiculously simplistic text. The fact that they are all supposed to be the best in the country at what they do leads me to question where they are recruiting from. I have never see this level of conversation for the degree of scholastic achievement they have. Not to say that people from a certain scholarly level are held to a higher standard than most. Not at all. I just expect them to be able to communicate to each other in a more proficient way. The conversations on Dawson's Creek were far more intellectually stimulating. Also, weak plot twists and super predictability left me a bit saddened. I have read teen books with more umph. Fear Street, anyone?

I was hoping to get something out of this and was left looking at a last page wondering if that was the rough draft.

Sadly, I will continue to read his books and hope that this was just a bad first book. I look forward to my next book: Angels and Demons. I hear it's pretty good!

Secrets

I just finished a really incredible book that was recommended to me by my buddy Heather. The book, entitled The Memory Keeper's Daughter, is a very well written first novel by writer Kim Edwards. In the book, an insanely intricate web of lies ties the characters together.

It got me thinking: how many of us really know anyone? Do we really know everything about our significant others? What secrets do we hide from them? How fragile are the lives we have built for ourselves? It's a bit daunting of a thought, but at the end of the day, would you let some grave secret destroy you, or would you move on, realizing that we all have our own secrets, some more sinister than others?

As bizarre as it seems, I sort of like not knowing. Maybe it is the biologist in me, always trying to falsify the evidence, always asking questions. If I don't know, it is something new for me to discover. Even if I find absolutely nothing, the challenge of proving that it was nothing was worth it in the end. It isn't because I am trying to find drama, or something that isn't there- it is the mystery that is intriguing. Perhaps I was a cop in my past life. My husband constantly accuses me of such. Staring to long at someone's expressions, memorizing details and nuances in conversations and surroundings, bizarre games that I have gotten quite good at playing.

It's like the book Harriet the Spy, which was a fave as a kid. You secretly wonder why they chose to wear only purple socks, or why they bought so much cat food. Unintentionally, by observing some of these little intimate moments, you now harbor a secret of your own.

Ah, secrets. How do you feel about them?