On the Upswing!

Good morning, Readers!

Well, it's taken some time and a short hiatus  from the blog, as well as other organized activities, but the MRKy Waters are becoming clearer!

I've switched to Abilify and am on the last week of weening off of my original medication.  My brain is more clear and I'm starting to feel more like getting involved in things again :)

On this Christmas Eve, I'm optimistic that 2014 is going to be a great year!


Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everyone!

Tired of being a zombie

Yesterday, I woke up briefly in the morning, rolled over, and fell asleep again until after noon. When you first start taking anti-psychotics, they warn you about many, many possible side effects. That I'll sleep more is one of those effects that have affected my routine. I have been taking the quetiapine at 7 pm and it has helped. Last night, I changed it to 6 pm. I hope that I'll be able to fix my schedule better with this change.

posted from Bloggeroid

Another Nightmare

This time, it was swarms of cockroach-sized hornets stinging me and other people I couldn't see.  I don't know what to think about these but I need to get back to sleeping properly.

Nightmares

This morning, I didn't wake up to the alarm... I woke up after a nightmare.  I was in an asylum of the past where they dressed us in the same striped pyjamas you see in Holocaust movies, they make you wear diapers and chain you to a bed... then hit you with wide leather lashes when you fill the diaper.

It felt so real that I woke up with my heart racing.

This is the first nightmare I've had in a while but that almost makes it more disturbing because I'm not numb to it like I was before.

What is it about our minds that send us these horrible nocturnal experiences?  I went to bed happy and had just finished reading a lovely, sentimental book that made me laugh out loud and cheer for the characters.  I'm making progress with my illness and I'm sleeping fairly regularly... so what gives?!?!?

Whiten up

I've now switched to 200mg... and I'm taking it earlier in the evening to see if I'll be less of a zombie.

Here's hoping.

Oh...

P.S. Water tastes funny and processed cheese tastes sweet

posted from Bloggeroid

The Dino has been Dashed!

What a way to run!  It rained buckets on us as we ran 5 km around part of the University of Calgary campus.  The streets are very well paved and even so the only real obstacles were the massive puddles pooling at every turn... But my running partner and I kept an even pace of about 7 km/hr - Not a pace that will win any races but it's a vast improvement from where we began.

The great thing about the Dino Dash is it's a community event.  These are the best types of events because everyone who gets involved are keen... well, ok... maybe not so keen when the rain is so thick it's running down your face and your back faster than the sweat from your pores.

Mayor Nenshi was the official starter and he didn't appear to be very thrilled about standing in the rain. My suggestion that at least it wasn't ice rain was met with a kind but confused stare that said "You people are nuts".  Fortunately, he had the good sense to keep any speechifying to a minimum and he got us on our way as soon as he could.  First the strollers, then a separate start for the 5 and 10 km runners.

Now, I have to extend my greatest thanks to anyone and everyone who volunteers at these events.  Volunteers are the life blood to any good foot race and these people stand out in the elements and hoot, holler, and encourage us along our way.  Almost all of the volunteers did what running volunteers do... they valiantly stand at their posts, cheering us on, and gave us directions where the 10 km runner's split from us.  One girl was pretty funny though... appeared like she would very much wanted to go home and didn't even attempt to plaster a grin on... but most of the volunteers were the reliable, wonderful people we depend on to keep us safe and exuberant.  Especially given the short distance of the race - we had one lane of traffic taped off for us and we were counting on our volunteers to keep of safe from the passing cars.  I got free entrance to the Dino Dash because I volunteered at the Calgary Marathon, so I've seen both sides of these events.

The fun bit about the Dino Dash is the finish because we all did a lap on their Olympic-sized outdoor track.  Spongey from the rain, it's a great way to finish the race.  We rounded the track and unzipped our coats to show our racing numbers to the officials and the announcer called our names as we crossed the finish line.

It was one race I didn't need to drink much water after I stopped running.

So far, so good

So it's been about a week and the only side-effect (other than sleeping in like a teenager) is a heightened sense of taste... or something... Whatever it is, it makes water taste funny and processed cheese tastes sweet, somehow.

Another week of this dose until they increase it.

Meanwhile, it's September so extra-curricullar activities are starting again.  I'm a member of Toastmasters International and... of course... last meeting (with great visions of grandeur) I signed up to make a speech on the first day back.  Yikes!

I was also attempting to join a local chorus for Sweet Adelines International but between diagnosis, the 2013 Calgary flood, and the chorus going away to compete, I decided to wait until later to audition... but now it's "later"... Eek!

Also, the program suggests that I keep work to a minimum while starting this program to limit stress... but obviously not working (no money) creates another kind of stress.  Blah!

I've been getting in some really good workouts on my bike and running but my appetite is still not quite right.  The University of Calgary's annual Dino Dash is on next Saturday!

I'm trying to get into my writing more again... I sent in my assignment I got before I started treatment and got a restaurant review on an Australian webpage (Brunch with my Baby)... from an Aunt's perspective.  I've only sent one query letter out since I started the program, so it's time to get that effort ramped up.

I started taking the pill at bed time but that made me sleep in until noon, so I moved it back to 9.  I think tonight I start taking it at 8 and set the alarm for the morning.  If I can start getting up at the regular time again, that should help with everything.

Little yellow pills

It has begun. After years of being "quirky" and questions around intelligence and sanity, I'm being treated for psychosis.

For those who haven't read my blog before, I'll state again that my raison d'etre for writing this is to combat the stigma surrounding mental illness.

I'm now taking Quetiapine under direction from the Early Psychosis program. The low dosage is a good introduction and, so far, the side effects are pretty minor. The first day, I felt like a zombie with a hangover but now, day 3, I'm only feeling a little numb and kind of dopey. I'll probably be pretty free of side effects by the time the two weeks' trial period is up and they increase the dose.

Thank you to everyone who may decide to follow me on my journey. Perhaps together, we can make a small dent in the stigma.

posted from Bloggeroid

Labels and Psychology

Well, the news is pretty good.  Yesterday, I had my appointment with the Early Psychosis program and the Psychiatrist has found that I'm not schizophrenic, but rather have a psychosis issue that should be manageable (if not curable).

It's amazing how our society's need for labels has pressed several on to me... incorrectly.

The roller coaster that we go on when we start to investigate the human mind is incredibly hard because of our label dependent society, the time between appointments, the stigma placed around any sort of mental illness, and our own nightmares.

There is a very good reason for the stigma to exist, but an even better reason to come to grips with it and put it to rest.

Let me explain.

The stigma around mental illness comes in several stages.  First, we have our connection to the person in question who is having a hard time and we see him going through all of the process of figuring out what may or may not be wrong with them.  Secondly, no matter how much we care about the person, our subconscious makes us worry about the time when our own brains may fail us.  Thirdly, there is the confusion created by the system because of the confusion around the brain... it's the chicken and the egg problem all over again... Our best scientists don't have a full understanding of the inner-workings of the brain.  So when one of us has a broken brain, and we see a myriad of counsellors, psychologists, psychiatrists, receptionists, and computer systems in order to figure out the problem, it is still incredibly difficult.  Now add our incessant and indecent need to label everyone and everything (including ourselves!!!) and a scary situation is made even worse.

Understanding where the stigma comes from should lead us to a way to slowly improve it, and maybe even reduce it to the point that it's a thought process instead of a dark cloud that hangs over mental health in the most unhelpful and damaging manner.

As human beings, we pride ourselves in being about to think above "the other animals".  We have tools, technology, and toys and we thrive to learn more.  Let's strip the stigma bare.

The "Keeping Busy" Project

Keeping busy is easy... keeping busy in a productive way is a little harder...

Fortunately, I'm a writer so my work-related research is also incredibly fun.  I follow any current news story that interests me and write up an article.  I'm curious about a phenomenon I've seen and I write up an article.  Someone asks me how to do something and I write up an article.

This is a very young project as I just started in January, but I'm starting to get published in a few publications and self-published in a few more.  One item on my Bucket List was to be published by the age of 30... three years late, it was achieved...

Victories like this and being asked to do more from people I respect - Both are helping me get through this process of waiting for the full diagnosis.  My training for City2Surf is going well but hit a slump with a sore calf after some particularly good training runs.

The ongoing soreness in my leg and the seemingly endless rain Alberta is getting is not helping, but fortunately I have an amazing family and my best friend who help bolster me when I'm in a low swing. We have a lot of fun when we're together, so that is a major plus in my favour.

I, also, recently had an epiphany earlier this month that, while I'm constantly reading, it's almost all online.  I've been re-reading favourite books on an irregular timeline and many books I've started to read have been left around the house, unfinished.  Part of this "Keeping Busy" project is to get rid of all of the collected rabble from the two years I've lived hear and about a decade previous to the last time I did this.  It's taking FOREVER!!!  This is because of my certainty that if I do it quickly, I'll throw out something I'll want in the future.

The thing is, I have a very small apartment and I spend most of my time in my living room... appropriate?

I never think that I'm a collector or a clutter bug until I realize that my three closets/storage rooms are rarely accessed because everything I actually use is out.  In my one room apartment, I use my dining room table but often work, eat, and sleep on the couch as I often fall asleep watching Netflix... I cancelled cable sometime last year.

Since I've been craving the minimalist lifestyle for an indeterminate number of months, it's time to make the final push.  Anything I haven't used this year must go - except for anything with true sentimental value.  Any book I read will be sent out to Fair is Fair books.  Here it goes...

Positive Escapism?

I think my time is about up...

Since I received the primary report from the psychologists, I've been indulging in escapism ranging from TV, fantasy novels, movie-marathons, and food binges.  I haven't been sleeping particularly well and I've been hiding from the world.

Obviously, this is not good as a whole... but I'm hoping it's understandable.  I'm blogging about this journey to help with breaking the stigma around mental illness (no matter what my final diagnosis is) so this never-ending-seeming waiting period is part of the journey.

So now that I've woken up to the notion that some of this has not been healthy, it's time to do something about it.

- More training for the City2Surf in Sydney, Australia (Only a couple weeks to go!!!)
- More reading
- More spending time with other people
- Following my schedule instead of drifting from one thing to another

- Less time watching various media videos
- Less time playing games


I know that a certain amount of escapism was necessary as I couldn't focus on anything I was trying to accomplish and I've spent more time crying in the last month than I have in my life.  But now it's time to pick myself up off the mat and distract myself with some good, honest work.

I hate waiting...

I have an appointment with the Early Psychosis program at the Rockyview Hospital so the wait to the next step is coming along.  I have a wonderful network of supportive people who are helping me through this confusion.  I have crazy mood swings so there are lots of times that I'm not sure what's going on.

Paranoid Schizophrenia

I don't know how to feel... so I guess I'll write.

The first step to dealing with mental illness is to get a proper diagnosis with all the tests and processes that come with that.  I have gone through a few partial assessments for specific concerns but, as psychology and my condition have developed, they felt incomplete and inaccurate.

So now I have the first part of my answer... I have Schizophrenia.

Over the next while, I'll write more as the process gets rolling... but at this point, that's all I have to say.

Results... soon

of tests to determine why I have difficulties with moods, friendship, trust, horrible images, and workplace relations.  Now it's the wait until they give me the diagnosis.

On one hand, I will get answers to the questions I've been asking for years.  On the other hand, will I like the information I'm given?  I'm giddy and terrified at the same time and I don't know what to do while I wait.

To My Dear... #3

To My Dear...

From the moment you are capable of conversations, this world will push and pull you towards a career. Please keep this in mind - All jobs are tough, in one way or another... but most of the time, you have to decide between a career that is physically risky or mentally challenging.  Beginning wages are always low and some career paths fail to allow you to progress and improve that wage.  These dead-end jobs can harm your soul and - by the time you know this - it is very hard to get out of that rut.

So my advice, for what it's worth, is to be interested in everything you come into contact with, try everything you can, keep all of your commitments, work and enjoy every experience for what it is, and dream all you want in your off hours.

Another thing:
Humans tend to not follow advice when they're young and lament what they could have done differently as they age.

I hope as you get older, you will take advice offered from all of the people who love you... including me.

To My Dear... #2

To My Dear...

This is a pre-emptive apology to the darkness in this world and my personal promise.

First, the apology,
You will be hurt.  You will be lied to.  You will be mislead.  Most of the people or faceless organizations that harm you in this life will not acknowledge or apologize for your pain - So I will do this for them.  I offer you this apology for the ignorance, shame, and crudeness of this world.  You who are so perfect, so full of hope, so full of curiosity.  This world will find some way to crush and stifle you.

Second, my promise,
I promise to you that I will do my best to help you.  I promise to not shelter you from these things but to help you deal with them anyway I can.  When you have a question, I promise to give you the strongest answer I can and if I don't know, I promise I will help you find the answer.

Lastly,
Remember that you are loved by so many people and we will help you all we can.  We may be stern sometimes and we will argue as you progress, but this is because we love you.

I am here for you.

An actual diagnosis

I've just returned from my second evaluation appointment at Family Psychology Services in Calgary with at least one more to go.  It will be a relief to have this evaluation and, hopefully, some good results.  It's really indepth and taxing on everything... but at least I'll be getting some answers.

Stop Being Prey - Flight Was My Biggest Mistake

Bullying isn’t the character-building funny part.  We feel the sting of bullying long after it is actually happening - And I have been a victim for long enough.  People are pack animals and they pick on the weak and the different.  This is something we were genetically programmed to do when food was scarce and we were fighting with other animals instead of visiting them in zoos - but the victim’s flight response can do greater harm than any bully.  These are my reflections on the bullying I’ve run from - I hope it encourages other victims to fight back with confidence I haven’t had for years.

While many people assume that humans have a natural, intrinsic place at the top of the food chain, yet our prehistorical scholars have learned that we were prey.

  Upon learning of this, we can understand both our combative urges for survival as well as our ability to thrive when we cooperate.  Human beings are happy to trumpet our brain power and agility in these conversations about early survival, but we need to focus on our ability to work together as a team.  Before it was “bear-size hyenas” and saber toothed tigers - Now we fight against ourselves.

So what are the justifications and excuses for bullying?  Bullies are insecure, it’s part of growing up, it’s just teasing… the list goes on and on.  I call these justifications and excuses because I was bullied, mercilessly, by other kids and teachers.  This included destroying my science fair project, name calling, laughing at my lack of coordination, not including me in their games and rubbing my face in it, threatening me with physical violence… later it was ranking me “second-best boobs” in school, rumours about my sexual activity, making fun of my acne, write lewd things in my yearbook… and teachers spending large portions of the class yelling at me when I made mistakes, keeping me from advanced learning activities when I excelled ahead of my classmates, and actively ignoring the peanut gallery comments my fellow classmates insulting me if I didn’t know an answer or gave too good of an answer… and numerous other things.  None of this is acceptable.  

Bullying is caused by ignorance.  Yes, the mighty human race are ignorant.  If you want to challenge me on this claim, look to who gets bullied - The outsiders.  People who show their individuality by special dress, people who are exceptional, people who are challenged, people who are new, people with another opinion, people who are deemed unattractive, people who are seen as “too beautiful” or “too thin” - Did you notice a pattern?  They are all PEOPLE.  You have heard the expression “It takes all kinds to make a world” - and there are as many different ways to bully as there are different kinds of people because everyone who is different can be a target for bullies.  

Every year I got older, I used to think that I would be done with bullying once I was out of school.  Think about it.  Most bullying campaigns have to do with school yard animosity.  Guess again, however, because adults can be just as bad or worse than kids.  The boss who takes all of the accolades for your hard work and demotes you if you make a mistake or are better at your job than she is.  That colleague who tells off-colour jokes around the water cooler and makes the shy person in the office uncomfortable or unsafe.  What about the person who sees bullying happening but doesn’t do anything to stop it?  To my mind, they may as well be doing the bullying themselves.  Now there is another forum for bullying - the internet.  The term is “cyber-bullying” and it includes being a “troll” who puts inflammatory messages online, texting violent messages, posting insulting pictures online of other people, and any other type of harmful activity.  

At the age of 33, I have learned a lot of life lessons, but no more important than this - We have to stop being victims.  Every time you are attacked, there are different ways to deal with it based in the fight vs flight.  Lifelong victims like me have a highly evolved flight response as I’ve never wanted to fight back because I thought that meant being obstinate, rude, or violent.  I am a kind person and I like to help people so when I am confronted, I feel lost that anyone would act that way towards someone who meant them no harm.  Most of the time, I’d shy away and hide.  Anytime I did speak out, I seemed to get into trouble, so I stopped taking part in activities I didn’t have to.  I stayed away from sports teams, stopped trying to answer questions in class unless forced, stopped taking fiddle classes because I had to audition to get into the new group, stopped acting because I overheard one of the teacher’s mocking me, stopped reading advanced books because another teacher convinced me I wouldn’t understand the book I was enjoying, no longer competed in events as it might draw attention to myself...  

In a way, I became my own worst bully.

I have struggled for years to stop this victimization of myself and encourage other weak members of society to find their own strength.  We may no longer be fighting the animals for survival, but if we work together with respect and compassion, there is no limit to where our big brains and agility can lead us.  Don’t be a victim like me!

Lackadaisical - Workplace Safety

Life is very important.  Imagine how such a simple truth can be taken for granted and that we can be so capricious in keeping each other safe.  Whenever we step into the shower, cook a meal, drive to work… hundreds of things we do every day can put ourselves or others in danger and yet we become complacent with repetitive tasks.   

Ask the victims of workplace accidents why we should pay attention and they will tell us sad stories of losing limbs or general health because of someone being careless.  I just lost a former classmate to a workplace accident - Peggy Sears, a framer working on a property outside Priddis, Alberta.  Occupational Health and Safety are still conducting their investigation and we (the public) will likely never know exactly what happened to her, but it involved her team putting up a wall that was too heavy to lift.  Even without knowing the full details, we can surmise that there were many possible ways that this could be a dangerous situation and I believe that she did not need to lose her life on that day.

Calls to make the workplace more safe continue to be answered with more regulations, inspections, and paperwork.  Unfortunately, through my years of working in a wide range of environments, these measures are seen as time-consuming, expensive, and bothersome.  I, however, do not need to have a cousin who was burnt up to 70% of his body to know the importance of safety.  I don’t need to hear about a pane of glass falling from a half-built skyscraper because it wasn’t tied down properly.  Nor do I need to have felt the searing pain of chili oil in the eyes while sautéing something in a commercial kitchen to know that workers need to be careful.

Kiss your children every day before you leave for work - Peggy won’t have the chance again.  Humans have the uncanny ability to think that nothing overly bad will happen to them or the people they love.  As soon as we get into an accident, most of us think “Why me?!?” or some such expression.  The answer is often because we, or someone else, was careless… complacent.  

As you look at the statistics, you will see that many accidents are caused by simple things like lack of proper rest or nutrition, awareness, or knowledge.  We in Alberta face the problems that come with a booming economy - tons of work, including new construction projects, and the pressure to get things accomplished quickly.  Workers are coming from other provinces and countries in waves and we often run into problems concerning different work practices and expectations.  

Do not take a good co-worker for granted.  You know that guy who is diligent in his work, thinks about both long and short termed goals, helps the team anyway he can…?   Whether you have one of these lovely people on your team or just someone with similar attributes, never take them for granted!  The people who actually think of safety above all other things end up saving time, money, and lives.

Accidents don’t happen without carelessness.  Whether it’s standing on the top of a ladder, walking too fast or backwards, “forgetting” to wear your personal protective equipment, not reading the instructions or blueprints correctly because it will take too long, having too much liquor or other substance the night before a shift, having a diet consisting of too much fast food and not enough vitamins and water… whatever reason behind the accident, most of them are manageable.  

Is the bother of using proper protection that big of a deal?  Yes, masks are horribly uncomfortable when you aren’t used to them.  Safety goggles fog up.  Gloves on site may be the wrong size.  It’s too much hassle and it’ll take too long?  Tell that to Peggy’s children who won’t see their mother ever again.

Stay close to your equipment.  Keep it clean and undamaged and if it breaks, get it fixed.  Don’t let it stay out in the sun or crush it in amongst your tools.

I miss my friend, Peggy Sears.  

Can you recall the last time you followed all of the rules, to the letter?  

Are we so focussed on protecting others that we neglect ourselves?  

Let us promise that we will answer this call - never again be lackadaisical. 

To My Dear... #1

One of my favourite artists of literature is Jostein Gaarder, Norwegian author of the fantastic novels "Sophie's World" and "The Solitaire Mystery".  I define my favourite artists by style, skill, and interest like anyone - but I would add that my favourite artists are those I am drawn to think about from time to time.  I haven't read Sophie's World for years and yet I often think about something Jostein Gaarder made me think about while engrossed in his pages... Especially now that I have a new nephew.  The particular section of the book I keep coming back to is in the first chapter and is absolutely enthralling.

"A white rabbit is pulled out of a top hat. Because it is an extremely large rabbit, the trick takes many billions of years. All mortals are born at the very tip of the rabbit's fine hairs, where they are in a position to wonder at the impossibility of the trick. But as they grow older they work themselves ever deeper into the fur. And there they stay. They become so comfortable they never risk crawling back up the fragile hairs again. Only philosophers embark on this perilous expedition to the outermost reaches of language and existence. Some of them fall off, but others cling on desperately and yell at the people nestling deep in the snug softness, stuffing themselves with delicious food and drink."

This is the type of concept that I find incredibly intriguing.  I offer this as an introduction to a new feature for MRKy Waters - "To My Dear..."  This will be a collection of entries geared towards encouraging the children in our lives to stay on the tips of the rabbit's hair and keep asking questions about everything.  

To My Dear...

You are very observant and I can tell, at your young age, that you are trying to figure out everything.  I will do my part to help keep that sense of wonder alive.  This world often tests the heart and I want to feed your soul.

A certain amount of comfort is dangerous because you stop asking questions.  If you take certain things for granted or become lackadaisical about routine tasks, you can end up in trouble.  For my part, I will always try to help you in any way I can.  Stay at the tips of the rabbit's hair and learn everything you can about everything you can.

Love,

Me

Happiness

The other day it occurred to me... I'm no longer as crazy depressed as I have been.  I'm getting to spend more time with my family and friends, I'm starting a new business, I met my new nephew, I've started running again... things are starting to feel like they are no longer spiralling out of control.

What a great feeling to be busy, content, and clear of the dark clouds that have been penetrating my grey matter!

The show of community and strength that took place in Calgary since the bombings of the Boston Marathon - my participation in the Run for Boston (Calgary) and subsequent writing will help formulate the basis of this new stage in my life, I am certain.

To be certain of something again is, also, a beautiful thing to behold.

Depression

Depression comes in waves... how suitable for the MRKy Waters author to be caught up in it.  I have happy moments, surrounded by family members who love and understand me... and I'm building myself back up from a particularly bad bout of depression.

The thing is, I feel more affected by emotions of others in this state.  I am normally a sponge when it comes to other people's emotion even though many have told me it doesn't register on my face.  I can think that I'm grinning like an idiot or worried that I may explode and my face doesn't show it.  I was at the gym with my best friend yesterday and, from what he said, I don't even show straining or exhaustion when I'm working out...

Now, with this depressive state, I feel an annoying or unfortunate incident as if it were some big tragedy - when something legitimately horrible happens like the death of my friend Peggy Sears (she died while working in construction outside Priddis, Alberta) and now the Boston Marathon bombing on April 15th, 2013, it's like a tidal wave... even though I had nothing to do with either incident and I'm not directly effected by the Boston bombing.  I am a VERY amateur runner... so I hope you understand my badly rampant imagination that has chosen to show me horrible images of me running across the finish line at Boston only to get blown up... and I can't stop it.

I don't know what will be done in an effort to help the survivors of these tragedies and others who suffer from depression - please donate blood at your local bank and register to donate organs and bone marrow.

Waiting

I don't do well with waiting... waiting when I'm about to be in an appointment is tough because there's no way to get into a new project without knowing you're about to be interupted.

The room doesn't have a clock.

It's still ten minutes... hardly long enough to do anything...

I don't do well with waiting...

Disclosure - Part 2

Yesterday was a game changer, but not for the reasons I thought it might be...

I'm currently listening to a recording of yesterday's seminar on disclosure in the workplace - It was not as informative as I had hoped as it became more of an "airing of the issues" rather than an actual how-to format.  Out of the 12 people in attendance, four people spoke (including the woman giving the presentation and myself).  I attempted to bring the others into the conversation but was unsuccessful.  It ended up being a benign discussion that included the feeling that everyone was thinking that they had the roughest life situation to deal with...

My second meeting, on the other hand, was a mostly one-on-one discussion over Myers-Briggs, COPS Interest Inventory results - as well as Asperger's Syndrome.

Have you ever been in a discussion where the people are so certain about something that it is the central point of the conversation?  Well, that is what yesterday was - and the central point was the fact that I have Asperger's.

I have, since this discussion, been trying to get a better grasp on what AS is and how the way I interact with people makes it so apparent to anyone who has studied this life situation.  I am not close to understanding it... and yet, I see a lot of myself in the descriptions I've read...

But I keep coming back to the quote

“If you’ve seen one person with Asperger Syndrome 

you’ve seen one person with Asperger Syndrome” 

– Stephen Shore

It seems like there are a lot of things to learn...

Disclosure - Part 1

Tomorrow, I'll be attending a course about Disclosure at the Workplace:

"Participants will have the opportunity to review their personal beliefs in regards to their skills and abilities and how these beliefs affects the way they present themselves and live their lives.  Participants will learn how to cope and understand their own disabilities with a new sense of purpose and strategies to address them, whether it is a recently acquired disability or one that they have been living with for some time"

I've been thinking about this since before signing up for the course - whenever someone says anything regarding "mental health" or "disabilities", we all have images or impressions that come into our minds that have been shaped by our experiences.  When these labels can be personally attached, there are even more references.

Since I have been tagged with varying levels of "Nonverbal Learning Disorder", "ADD", "ADHD", "Strange", "Depressed", "Gifted", "OCD", "Funny", "Different"... and who knows what else... I have sought information on psychology and workplace practices for years.

I'm hoping that this will be an interesting seminar and I will be able to share some tidbits in Part 2

Seeking help

...at a certain point, no matter how intelligent you are, you must face your fears and ask for help.  This is one of the scariest things to do in the best of times and it's even harder when you've dealt with rude ignorance in the past.

And then you get to the grey government office and talk to the bespectacled woman behind the big desk and she hands you forms with repetitive questions and graphical pictures of handicapped people and you are sent to another grey building where everyone speaks in soft tones and the occasional person in mismatched sweatpants and old jersey tops comes around the corner babbling... and you know none of this is right... these are all nice people trying to help... the poor babbling soul wasn't asked permission to be born like this and the girl wailing out in pain while her attendant is having a smoke break wasn't given the option between being healthy and having to stand in a massive spider-like contraption because her skeletal structure won't hold her tiny frame. 

You remind yourself that you can go days or months or years not talking about disabilities or the loathsome topic of "Special Needs"... you can "pass" as normal for long stretches of time... but every time you get held up by those times of stress or challenge that others are able to navigate and you aren't, you realize that you actually were just hiding from the life situation.

It's true... I wasn't "passing"...

Why I cancelled television

What is your morning routine?  Maybe you turn on the coffee or go straight for the shower.  Do you wake up to an alarm that plays music or beeps?  Can you wake-up without an alarm?

I find myself turning the television on as the first thing... it will be on the news or music, but the action is automatic... I could very well still be asleep when I do it.

I'm very sensitive to noise of all forms and, because everything in this world makes some form of noise, it can become overwhelming.

I have an odd sort of discipline when it comes to coffee - when I want it too much, I stop drinking it.  With TV, it's the same thing - This will be the fourth or fifth time that I've cancelled TV.  I have always come back to it in the past, and it's likely I'll get it again at some point... but I don't want a device running my life.

Generally, I'll cancel TV if I find myself watching re-runs of old shows too much ...also, when I multi-media too much.  Last night, I was watching a show on the TV, another on the computer, and I was reading and doing other things around the house at the same time... and sometimes I'll find myself doing this and realize that the radio is playing in my room.

Why would someone choose to have all of this activity going around them?  I have no answer.  So it's time to unplug.

Thinking doesn't make it go away

Consider a leak under the kitchen sink.  The sink is the vital heart of the kitchen just as the kitchen is the brain of the family for that is where we gather to sustain and enrich ourselves.  If the sink stops contributing water, we aren't able to clean or prepare food.  It the kitchen isn't functional, the family cannot meet everyday around the hearth in the traditional way. 

That leaky sink is how mental illness effects the brain and body for if there is a slow leak, it may not be detected for a while... but the amount of damage done to the very structure of the house is detrimental.  If one turns a blind eye to a leak, for even necessary reasons, the damage to the walls, floors, the very structure and strength of the house can be unrecoverable.

So what is an adult discovering mental illness to do when the brain has slowly caused this type of equivalent damage to her life? What renovation can be accomplished to make the sick house well again? Is there a Mike Holmes-type to guide the process?  If there is no trust in the mind, how can that brain rely on the system or professions that are present to aid in this renovation?

It is to be discovered...

Teachers of the Ivory Tower

The Ivory Tower - originally coined in the Bible's 7:4 Song of Soloman - has come to mean a solitary place of study where you can make a career, like university.  I would argue that this could be extended to positions of authority and trust like doctors, police, priests and other community leaders.  Since humans are pack animals, they seek a certain amount of hierarchical structure and these respected "pillars of the community"are where many people find that leadership.  As we grow up, we are taught to respect people in these positions - and rightly so as they are academic and it takes years of dedication to earn these titles.  Yet, there is a loud thump that resonates from these expectations when they are violated.  If a person has a series of experiences with any of these professions (or combination, thereof) that include disappointment, disenfranchisement, scorn, ridicule, fear or violence, the Ivory Tower is cracked and starts to crumble.

The list of Ivory Tower careers would not be complete without mention of teachers.  Those we come to  for access to knowledge from a very young age to adulthood where our definition of "teacher" is expanded away from just those who stand in front of a classroom.  These people are seen as sources of intellect and hold a great deal of respect and trust.  Isn't it a shame, then, that there are members of the educational professions who disrespect this trust by letting their egos guide them, instead of their efforts and good intentions they had while they, themselves, were in school?

I speak from the perspective of someone who has always loved the theory of what school was supposed to be - the ideal pursuit of knowledge and an increasing depth of understanding in all subject areas.  I'm from the "Reading Rainbow" generation - for those of you who don't know, Reading Rainbow was Levar Burton's entertaining show built around encouraging children to read.  I remember being so excited about the first day of school every year... I had enjoyed Summer vacation and I was ready for that new opportunity to "start fresh"... "This year is going to be different! I'm going to excel in my classes and learn a lot of interesting things and I'm going to meet a bunch of wonderful people!"  Soon afterwards though, every year, I'd remember that people can be mean to people who are different.  I'd get off on the wrong foot with someone; I wouldn't wear the right thing; I didn't own the right pencil... whatever.  We all get bullied at some point, right?  If not... you were the bully... But I would try to not let it bother me - we were all taking some time to "get in the swing of things" in the new semester or at the new school... teachers were new, schedule was different... there was an adjustment.

Sooner or later, though, school becomes routine - and for the misfits, popular kids and everything in between, school settles down.  Some classes I liked, others not so much... same with everyone, right?  My routine, however, was mostly grouped into the few classes I did really well in (like Language Arts) and...the others...

I knew that teachers were part of the Ivory Tower class of people I should respect on sight.  They were trying to help, trying to help us grow... and it wasn't their fault that they couldn't stop the bullies from going after me.  Humans are pack animals, and I was one of the runts.

So I worked... and I studied... and I tried to find interest in everything we were learning... yeah... right...

But that was ok because I had music, art, the fun parts of gym (gymnastics, volleyball, that one soccer class that I scored the winning goal) and Language Arts.  I loved L.A. because you got to read interesting books and discuss them.  I did well in the class because I was a strong writer and had good comprehension (except with poetry).

And then there was Mrs. McGee.  She was my teacher in grade 7... and a good one... We got to study "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee...still one of my favourite books... and sometimes we watched movies based on the books we read.  And every class we had 15 minutes of "Free Reading"... anything we wanted to read except comic books.

One day - I forgot my free reading book:

This wasn't a big deal because there was a large group of shelves in the back of the classroom filled with books to choose from.  I saw an orange binding (I love bright colours) and found "The Chrysalids" by John Wyndham (Published by Penguin - all their paperbacks have an orange spine).  Since a post-apocolyptic, science fiction tale looked interesting and free reading only lasted 15 minutes, I started reading it back at my desk and became instantly engrossed.

Mrs. McGee shortly came around to see what I had chosen and immediately took it out of my hands.

"Melissa - This book is for grade 10 students"

Well, of course, I hadn't noticed that the book had grade recommendations on its' back cover... it just looked interesting.  I said that I was enjoying it and asked to have it back.  Mrs. McGee said that grade 7 was too young to read this book and I wouldn't understand it so I would have to choose another book.  With one last attempt, I started to tell her about the small bit I had been able to read in the short amount of time wishing that would be enough... but she walked back to her desk at the front of the classroom, with other kids looking over their books at us, and placed "Chrysalids" on its' corner.  I could see my little book on the big desk and knew that I couldn't argue the point anymore.  What the teacher said was right and a child shouldn't argue with a teacher.

Later, I thought that she must be right... I wouldn't have been able to read it... why should I try?  And I didn't read much for the next while... why bother?

I slowly got back into reading, little by little... but that always gnawed at me that someone who I had called my "favourite" teacher could do something like that...  As an adult, I look back and think "Hey, if I'm a teacher and I have a student who is reading above their level, I should encourage them... not publicly argue their abilities in front of the other children who are likely bullies..."

Since then, and other misadventures with Ivory Tower types, I have to work very hard to give people in those professions the opportunity to earn my trust and respect.  I still know there are plenty of good people in these professions... and a good friend of mine is a teacher (an excellent one)... but there is always that sense of mistrust... The Ivory Tower has crumbled.

Slow of Speech - Not Slow of Mind

When people hear you have a disability, they speak slowly to you... or the area around you... or the person standing next to you... It's what I call the "Therapists' Voice"

It doesn't matter that people like me have an amazing vocabulary and our depth of understanding of any topic that interests us can be the same or deeper than people without this life situation.  Incidentally, I call it a "life situation" more often than I call it a disability or problem because my NLD has both positive and negative sides to it - and it is a lifelong situation, not something that can be helped with an artificial limb or laser surgery.

I try not to blame people for using the Therapists' Voice when speaking to me as they are trying to be helpful.  They don't understand how insulting it is and they want to be kind.

It's true, I speak somewhat slowly and have a naturally low voice.  I enunciate my words - partially because I loath how many people don't; partially because I have so many thoughts running through my head, I have to concentrate to get the sentence out (especially if I'm under stress or am annoyed).

Here's an interesting analogy:

When I was in a class recently, we were reading parts of a manual aloud to each other.

It was a very repetitive text and my attention was waning.

When it was my turn, I enthusiastically read my paragraph - I truly enjoy reading out loud to others.

But this chapter was boring - and repetitive

I finished reading and the group had an emotional shift that I felt and they laughed.

I looked around for a clue as to why they were laughing...

Apparently, I had drifted off at the end of the final sentence without noticing.

That line had been repeated so many times, I guess I just stopped.

Later in the program, some of my classmates retold the story and it ended up being something we could laugh about together.

Please remember that there are lots of different life situations people face and rarely do they call for the Therapists' Voice.  Instead, speak normally and ask questions.  If you're not sure how to communicate with ANYONE - ask questions.  Don't assume - ask que............

The Value of Silence

This world is noisy.  Some of it is in our control - like the music we listen to and our favourite kitchen gadgets like the coffee maker - but commercials, other people, traffic and everything else that penetrates our ears on a daily basis, it can be downright painful.

With NLD, OCD, shyness, depression, insomnia (and any combination), uncontrollable noise can feel claustrophobic.  It's times like this where I disappear until someone close to me calls two days later and asks what's going on.

Noise can be palpable - sometimes I feel like I can actually see sound waves because they're so strong.

Closing the blinds, shutting off everything in the house, and having a bubble bath before bed can help but then I just hear my thoughts that can keep me awake...

Who else struggles with this?

Tapestry or Patchwork Quilt?

It occurs to me that knowledge can be seen as a blanket - We slowly build it throughout our lives and each piece of information is a thread that weaves in and out of the previous understanding of life.  As we grow and learn, the blanket gets larger and the design is more intricate.

As we attend school, we face a certain amount of Rote Learning
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rote_learning

As we get older, we are expected to take the facts we've learned and apply them to different situations.  This works for many people with varying levels of success.

Now, suppose that knowledge takes the form of a patchwork quilt, not a woven piece of art or blanket. This is closer to my experience.  Learning lots of information on a variety of subjects is something I enjoy and excel at - It's applying that knowledge to complex situations that is the trick...

Think about the first time you put on rode a bike - you don't have to understand how the chain works with the gears and tires in order to ride a bike.  You need some balance and enough speed to progress forward without the bike falling down... and I imagine most of you had the hands of a trusted family member or friend holding the bike while you got started like I did... Once you get going, you experiment with speed, different gears, terrains, and on it goes... This is weaving the tapestry.  It relies on an ability to take bits of information and apply it to a new circumstance - like the first time to climb a hill.  If you try to ride up the hill without gearing down, you may be able to do it but it will be much harder. After you've experimented with different gears and speed, you realize how much easier it is when you gear down right before you start to climb.  Later on, you see a garage door that is attached to a pulley system or you use a lever system like a wheelbarrow and you learn the principles in all the devices are similar.  The gear on a bike, size of the wheels on a pulley, or length of the rope or lever is what helps you accomplish the task at hand.

My patchwork quilt contains many squares from other outdoor activities, music, art, chess sets I've made, tv shows, politics, history, literature, and psychology.  Do you have a tapestry or a quilt?

The Icarus Factor

As he flew with his waxen wings, he felt exhilarated, powerful!

"I can do anything!  I have harnessed the wind under me and I can see the Earth below"

He cried with joy and laughed that his father said it couldn't be done

He was in arrogant lust of accomplishment and he revelled in it

But as he flew closer to the sun, he realized he hadn't heeded the advice he should have;

"Son, don't fly too close to that golden sphere or it may cost you dear"

The wings started to drip, he started to slip, and Icarus fell from the heavens with a final cry of good-bye!

- MRK

The Icarus Factor is part of the every day experience for me - a calculation I use when deciding on a course of action - based on the Grecian myth.  Icarus was the son of Daedalus, the craftsman who built the maze that imprisoned the minotaur conquered by Theseus.  It's that feeling of joy when I start excelling in something I didn't think I'd be able to do as well as the knowledge that if I got too far with it, I could fail.  It's the cycle of hope, excitement, dread, and understanding of the past as it pertains to my current situation.  Since I don't understand feelings or thought processes the same way that non-NLD people do, I often use common myths, metaphors, and similes in order to explain what might make more sense to someone outside my head.  Unfortunately, this is sometimes unsuccessful because of the "Smarty Pants" effect... I have a great vocabulary and a good knowledge of a wide range of subjects including mythology and that seems to annoy some people... so my effort to be helpful is reacted to with anger like "What the hell are you talking about?!" or impatience because my "shorthand" explanation took more time and didn't work.

If I had said "I feel like the sword of Damocles is over my head", would that have made more sense?

And then it's down the rabbit hole with my worries about being normal, failure that I'm facing an angry person, agitation because now they're in more of a rush, feelings of hatred towards the education system because "everyone should know about Icarus and Damocles"...and meanwhile, my hands are stiffening up because the person I was talking to is trying to make me move faster than I am capable...

THAT is the Icarus Factor.

Call for research

While this will be a blog focussing on my research and experiences with NLD, I welcome any contribution. What is it about us who have this condition/affliction/disorder... we excel in vocabulary, reading, rote memory and can gain a certain measure of success like graduating from university and becoming published authors... and yet, I am continually confused by social interaction that is easily understood by others.  I am highly intelligent and am gifted in verbal pursuits, yet the passage of time eludes me.  While I can do math and run an obstacle course, speed is not something that comes easily; I often stumble or injure myself.

What sort of challenges have others faced?

Introduction

Melissa Roi Knive

To ask who I am is to understand what influences my character.  I am a Canadian girl born in the prairies of Alberta to a family of farmers.  Melissa is a Greek name meaning “Honeybee” - chosen because it was a different name then the common rural handles picked by my parents’ contemporaries.  Roi is the French spelling of my father’s name given to me by my aunt who understood the inherent significance between a man and his daughter and voted to honour that link.  Knive is the Norwegian family name given to us through my paternal grandfather who immigrated to Canada.  I am also of Welsh decent on my mother’s side - my great grandparents immigrated after my maternal grandfather travelled across the Atlantic seven times as an entertainer with his beautiful tenor voice.  I am also a Pisces which explains my active imagination, sensitivity, moodiness, romantic inclinations and interest in a wide variety of topics.