Triggered

The other day I was triggered. In an instant my mind was reeling My purpose was reduced to a single thought. There was no other option. In the moment the best strategy  was to write it down, to take deep breaths and write it down. The first draft was terrible But it gave me the pause I needed  and with each rewrite I stepped further back. until I had gained enough space to stay safe.

Removed due to violating community guidelines

 I got a warning on TikTok that I violated community guidelines.  This is what I posted:

What to expect when your brain wants to kill you excerpt from chapter: POETRY

 

 

I enjoy writing.  I like expressing my thoughts on paper or on my blog.  I wish I could get more people to read my stories and poems, but that's not why I write.

I have written a couple of novels.  They have been revised over many years.  I have been tinkering with one since university.  I have carefully sculpted the other over the last 20 years.  Neither has been published.  I have tried the Literary Agent route, which is very frustrating.  You wait so long only to get a form letter rejection.  I understand why.  The number of "writers" worldwide has grown exponentially since the advent of word processing programs and the Internet.  Literary agents are inundated with story pitches.  I'm sure they can barely keep ahead of the avalanche.  I'm not criticizing them, but rather just sharing my observations.

The non-literary agents in my life - friends and relatives - advise me to self-publish.  I am reluctant for a few reasons.  First, Literary Agents want to avoid handling spoiled copy.  They want the princess to be intact, so to speak.  If I self-publish, my novels will be sullied.  It is an all-or-nothing strategy.

Second, to self-publish successfully, you need to be able to promote yourself.  All authors do marketing, but if you have a Literary Agent, you have some guidance and access to tools unavailable to lone wolves.

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What to expect when your brain wants to kill you excerpt from chapter: STRATEGIES

All of the following are effective in some shape or form, but for them to be truly beneficial, you must make those that resonate with you part of your daily routine.  They must be deeply integrated so that when you need support, a pause or a break, or even just a distraction to get over a crisis, big or small, you will instinctively choose the right strategy for you at that moment.  Many of these I don’t embrace that tightly.  I hope listing as many as I can remember will give someone else an option they never considered.

Let’s start with ice.  Before I experienced modern psychotherapy, I equated Psychiatric Hospitals with 19th and 20th Century Insane Asylums and their notoriously harsh treatment of patients.  I have a vivid image in my head of a patient screaming and crying as they were forcibly put into an ice bath and restrained in place.  It was a technique used regularly as much as a punishment as a treatment.  As it turns out, though, ice baths significantly affect a patient’s physiology.  They are routinely used by athletes to reduce muscle soreness and inflammation and to enhance recovery.  For patients, if you put your face in ice water and hold your breath, it triggers the dive reflex, slows the heart rate, calms the nerves and makes your body conserve oxygen. 

I don’t like being cold.  The only ice I want is in a drink, so the idea of an ice bath is abhorrent.  Nevertheless, I’ve always been open to trying different strategies at least once, so one day, when I was agitated, I tried it.  I filled a large bowl with water and a couple handfuls of ice.  I then bobbed for apples, or in this case, ice cubes.  As expected, it was not pleasant.  Perhaps it would have been refreshing if it had been a hot day.  As it was, it immediately distracted my thoughts.  Bracing.  As a strategy, it was effective, but as a viable option, I would have to pass.  There was too much involved in setting it up.  When I told my Pdoc I tried it, he was actually surprised.  He rarely had patients act on his suggestions.  He was more inclined to trust medication, especially PRNs, in such situations.  I won’t dismiss this strategy out of hand, but if I ever use it again, it will be in desperation.  

...

What to expect when your brain wants to kill you excerpt from chapter: THERAPISTS

 

I have had many therapists on my mental health journey.  Some have taught me what doesn't work in therapy, while others have inspired me to live a safer and happier life.  By therapist, I should clarify I don't necessarily mean someone with letters after their name.  I count as a therapist anyone I reached out to with whom I had a rapport and who, in turn, provided support.  This includes a friend, a sibling, a family doctor and professional therapists.  I have had therapists for one conversation and others for weeks, months and years.  What is most important to me is that they listened without judgment.  I rarely reach out for help, and when I do, I hope they accept me with compassion and trust.  

My mental health is not something anyone else can remedy.  It has to come from within.  A good therapist will not try to solve my mental challenges, but they will listen and, through their patience, help me find my way.  A therapist should help me foster self-compassion and encourage me to take the time to step back and recognize my distorted thinking to realize the way forward or at least the next step.  

The first official therapist (with credentials and everything) I ever had was in University, right after I was hospitalized for my second attempt.  I resented having to go.  They told me that if I didn't, they would kick me out of residence.  I didn't take kindly to the threat and was prepared to get my apartment when I finally acquiesced. 

She was a middle-aged woman.  Very relaxed.  We started by first sorting out my family dynamic.  She brought out chess pieces and asked me to identify every family member with a playing piece.  I then had to explain my choices.  I selected my dad as king.  He was the head of the family.  Dinner was served when he got home.  He was a family doctor.  I love my dad.  He was always generous with his time.  We played lots of games together.  We had pentathlon tournaments where we played five events: ping pong, billiards, cribbage, Pente and chess.  My father was my role model.  Despite my mental challenges, I have always given my best to my two children. 

I identified my mother as the queen because she was the most powerful member of the household.  She knew everything that was going on and when it was to happen.  The house ran like clockwork.  Her agenda on the counter was a blueprint for the week.  Every meal was accounted for.  Every appointment was recorded.  I was the youngest in my family by four years, so "my mother" was different from my siblings'.  From about age 14 and forward, I was virtually an only child.  While my siblings were off at college or University, my mother and I had extended one-on-one contact.  If my dad was not home for dinner, the two of us would go out to a restaurant.  At night, we used to watch TV together.  Remington Steele was a favourite.  We had a very close relationship.

My mother was proud of me when I was young.   I always did well in school.  It was a running joke between us that she always left the same comment on my report card.  "We are very pleased with John's report." In elementary school and high school, my academic trajectory seemed infinite.  I had plans to become a Latin Professor, which my mother highly encouraged.  She had a friend who was a university professor, and his life was a success.  But that didn't quite turn out for me.  Unfortunately, in post-grad school, she was no longer pleased with "my report."  She never said anything openly about it until much later when, under the shadow of Alzheimer's, she told me none of her children amounted to anything.  

What to expect when your brain wants to kill you excerpt from chapter: MUSIC

I use music in many different ways to manage my mental health. Sometimes, it's easy to forget the importance of those around you. One strategy I use is to make a playlist for each of my children. They are both a work in constant process created over years.

When I hear a song that evokes a memory about them, I add it to their Spotify list on my phone. More often than not, the actual lyrics have nothing to do with the memory connected to it. Instead, it was whatever was happening at the time I heard it.


My son's playlist includes everything from the Wiggles (Hot Potato) to Frank Sinatra (New York, New York) to Young MC (Busta Move). One reminds me of the live Wiggles concert we went to together at Roger's Centre, the other of New Year's Eve in front of the TV watching Time’s Square, and finally, when, as a man, he went up on stage in Mexico and sang Karaoke.

On my daughter's playlist, Coleman Hell (Fireproof) recalls when we hid from a torrential downpour in Ottawa, giggling at getting under cover just in time. Also included on her list is the song Attention by Charlie Puth. We always laugh and sing along to the misheard lyrics, "You've been running 'round, running 'round, running 'round, throwing that turtle on my name."


I rarely actually listen to the playlists. Instead, I scroll down and review the memories, letting each one flourish inside me. If I listen to one of the songs in another context or hear it on the radio, I shut my eyes and suspend myself in the happy moment. If I hear a new song that triggers a specific memory of my children, I add it to their playlists.

I also have my own playlists. One is called "Up," while the other is "Down." “Up” is full of positive lyrics and/or upbeat music, such as TNT by AC/DC, Take On Me by A-ha, It's A Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong, Sympathy with the Devil by the Rolling Stones, Return To Innocence by Enigma, Octopus's Garden by the Beatles. Unlike my children’s playlists mine are not associated with memories. It is the how the song itself effects me, how specific lyrics resonate. Some are romantic, some reflective, some have infectious bass lines, while others are just whimsy and escape.




"Down" has songs of defeat or despair, such as Creep by Radiohead, Have You Ever Seen The Rain by CCR, Not Tonight by Depeche Mode, Forever Young by Alphaville, Black Parade by My Chemical Romance (which I used in a video Obit I made for myself.), and Happens to the Heart by Leonard Cohen. I also include Don't Stop Believing by Journey. Some people see this song as hopeful and encouraging. I just feel like a failure. You will note that the playlist does not adhere to any genre of music or musical era. They are just songs that strike a chord and hold me in their grasp. They have one lyric that I can’t dispute or there is a devastating chord change that influences the emotion.




Both playlists are lengthy and robust, but they only reinforce my current emotion. They don't influence the opposite mood. If I’m feeling depressed and put on the “Up” playlist, nothing will happen. It won’t change my perspective. If anything, it gets me annoyed. The critic dismisses the songs as frivolous. After the first few notes, it immediately feels wrong, and I stop listening. If I’m already happy, though, the music lives inside me. I become light on my feet and glide on the lyrics and the melody. If I am alone, I might even dance foot loose and free. I even surprise myself!




Similarly, listening to the “Down” list when I’m happy feels wrong. I turn it off immediately. When I am low, though, the playlist is my companion. The words and melodies are like earworms that further reinforce my depression. They don’t push me to suicide but rather to spend time in conversation with the critic.


If I happen to hear any of my playlist songs in public, I’m immediately triggered. An “Up” song puts a smile on my face and a pep in my step, while a song from “Down” triggers my depression and the critic appears.

What to expect when your brain wants to kill you excerpt from chapter: CBT

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) is the darling of mental health treatments. Nearly every therapist I have had has in some way promoted CBT. They tout that study after study has scientifically proven its effectiveness. It’s as if they expect skepticism on the patient’s part, and they are desperate you understand that it is not some wibbly wobbly, cat poster, pseudoscience; that it’s a legitimate treatment. They want you to buy in immediately. 

At its core, it is really just thinking about your thinking, about stepping back and observing your own assumptions and reactions to them, separating fact from your “cognitive distortions.” They use bigger words to make it seem more impressive.  

The therapy is based on paper worksheets, some of which were photocopied and recopied so many times the hand-out was faded and flawed. As I mention in my therapist chapter, a course of therapy typically lasts 4 to 6 weeks. Some therapists’ whole spiel was just working through CBT questionnaires. They would give me homework to read and thought charts to fill in. It was not very helpful. In the end, I was left with pages and pages of proof that I had been therapized, but I still didn’t feel any better. I was told to review the worksheets again on my own and to keep working on them. I was left feeling that it was my fault it didn’t work. 

I never really understood CBT until I was put into a 14-week group therapy series, where each session lasted two hours. It was part of the outpatient services offered by the Psych Hospital, where I was an inpatient for six weeks.

Instead of worksheets, we were given a comprehensive workbook that provided a detailed overview as well as deep insights into CBT. It highlighted the interconnectivity between your thoughts, behaviour, mood, and physical sensations. In other words, if your mood is severely depressed, your behaviour, thoughts, and body will follow that lead. The darkness would then take hold, and your inner critic would have free reign to berate and destroy your self-esteem. The theory goes that if you can improve one of the four, you can lift all four. It encourages you to become your own therapist and use self-talk to calm your own thoughts. The idea is to rewrite your brain, which they confidently declare can be done. Again, they demonstrate more scientific proof that it works. Brain scans have shown changes in brain function before and after treatment.

What to expect when your brain wants to kill you excerpt from chapter: EXERCISE

Every pdoc and therapist I have ever had has told me I need to exercise; that the research proves that it’s effective at combating depression.  I was never happy with this advice.  Exercise requires a great deal of motivation, something depression consumes at will.  Add to that, I have never been much of an athlete -  I’ve always been part of the “rest,” as in when teams were being selected at recess, “You can have the rest.” -so you can understand my reluctance.

 The only sport I was any good at was crab soccer in elementary school.  I was a beast on the floor.  I scurried faster than any crab and had a lethal shot.  Alas, after grade 6, my career came to an end.

In grade nine, girls and boys were separated in gym class for the first time, and within the gender splits, there were athletic groupings.  During the first three classes, we went through a series of fitness and skills tests; things like how many push-ups or sit-ups can you do in a certain amount of time; how fast can you run 100m; how many baskets can you can shoot, and other such activities to judge our basic athletic ability.  

The whole purpose was to separate the wheat from the chaff.  Those who were weak and less coordinated were put into their own class separate from the “regular” classes.  I was quickly sorted into the “Heebie-Jeebies” - that was what the other kids called us.  I’m not sure if this separation was done for our benefit or to prevent us from holding back the other classes. 

And so, my only year of high school gym was spent doing more sit-ups, weight training and stair laps than the “normal” kids.  Luckily my older brother alerted me to the key to high marks in fitness units.  He told me to not try hard during the first benchmarks at the beginning of the year and then try my very best in June.  Your mark was based on your level of improvement, and so I managed to get an A.  Even my parents were impressed.  That was the end of my scholastic PE.

My Cure

 

My cure does not come from pills but rather words, not from bandages but rather thoughts.

* Metacognition wordle by Nancy Smith

Most popular TikTok

This is my most popular TikTok to date. 1080 views. 57 likes.  

(I typically get around 200 views and 5 likes)

CLICK HERE

@edwardcorwin26 Depression as a disease#mentalhealth #mensmentalhealth #depression ♬ original sound - Corwin

Biking

I am stuck in some creative rut. Everyone tells me that more exercise will help.  I am trying my best. In total over the last two months ending today I have "biked" 90 km.  Of course I have not even left my basement. It's all stationary. That is the distance I would need to travel to visit my dad in Markham. 

I am tired. I'm sweaty.  Not sure I'm feeling anymore creative.

BTW - the picture above is not entirely accurate.  My spandex is red!

Who's on your playlist?

When I am in the midst of a downward spiral it is not so easy to remember what is important. One strategy I use is to make playlists for each of my children. They are a work in progress over days and months and years. 

When I hear a song that evokes a memory I add it to their list. More often than not the actual lyrics have nothing to do with the memory connected to it. Instead it was whatever was happening at the time.

My son's playlist includes everything from the Wiggles (Hot Potato) to Frank Sinatra (New York, New York). One reminds me of the live Wiggles concert we went to together at Roger's Centre and the other of New Year's eve in front of the TV. 

On my daughter's playlist Coleman Hell (Fireproof) recalls when the two of us hid from a torrential downpour in Ottawa, giggling at getting under cover just in time. Also included on her list is the song Attention by Charlie Puth. We always laugh and sing along to the misheard lyrics "You've been running 'round, running 'round, running 'round, throwing that turtle on my name." 

I rarely listen to the playlists all the way through. In fact I hardly even listen to the songs. Instead I scroll down and review the memories, letting each one flourish inside me.  If I do listen to one of the songs or hear it on the radio, I shut my eyes and float suspended in the moment, mindful of how the memory makes me feel: relaxed, content, complete.

 

When I am in crisis does this strategy cancel my suicidal thoughts? Not really but it does blunt the edge and oftentimes that is all I need.

A version of the article has been published on The Mighty.

New Year's Resolutions When You Live Day to Day for Your Mental Health

I don't make New Year's resolutions anymore. For me they always came from a dark place.  They identified everything that was wrong with me, real or imagined. They stomped on my self esteem. I was fat and ugly and needed to lose weight. I was lazy and listless without purpose. I needed to apply myself more strictly.  Resolutions fed on my insecurities and self-hate. 

 
And of course the moment I failed, which inevitably happened within a couple of days or weeks of the new year, the thoughts pounced even harder, and spiraled out of control. 

To further complicate New Year's resolution, I suffer from Chronophobia, a fear of time and the future. Plans made months, weeks or even just a few days in advance overwhelm me. Every night I hope is my last, that time will stop. The idea of doing something new for a whole year is debilitating. I am scared and more certain than ever that suicide will overrun me first.

So instead of making resolutions, I now make a daily list of things I want to accomplish for next day.

Someone not suffering with mental health challenges might think my daily goals are laughable. Spending time with my children and my wife, reading, listening to music, remembering to breath when anxious all might seem like obvious activities that don't need to be itemized but for me they provide the opportunity of accomplishment. I make sure that each is meaningful and achievable. I write down "eat well" instead of eat less or lose weight. 

Then before I go to bed I reflect back on what I can check off my list.  If there is something I was unable to do, it's not a big deal. I just add it to tomorrow's list and try again. One day I may look to the big picture but for now I live life day to day. It is the only way I know how.

A version of the article has been published on The Mighty. 

How my covid mask helps with anxiety

When you have glasses, wearing a mask can be challenging.  The Covid fog is a nuisance.  With a bit of adjusting though you can minimize the impact. The fabric, shape and design of your mask all play a part. After a bit of trial and error, an effective combination can limit fog due to regular breathing or environmental conditions such as moving from wintery frost to a comfy fire. It took me a while but I finally found a tolerable mask combination only to discover that I still had unexpected and severe fogging episodes. At first I was puzzled and more than a bit  frustrated and then I realized these occasions were tied directly to my level of anxiety. Something was triggering my body's response even before I realized it. The fog and its severity were an indication of my own mental state. At first this insight seemed to double the effect. I crumbled, overwhelmed  by my own anxiety and its relentless pursuit. But then I realized that instead of being a new symptom of despair, the fog could be used as an early warning sign.  Now, the moment my vision begins to cloud, I stop and take stock of what I am doing. I ask myself if my reaction is due to some real threat or are my thoughts distorting the situation. I reflect using my CBT training to identify my thinking patterns, to determine if I am catastrophizing or labelling or something else. I then take a few deep breaths, do a quick body scan to reset and restore myself and then finally consider how best to manage my reaction, how best to prevent my anxiety from escalating out of control.  By stepping back to think about my thinking I have found the fog dissipates and I can begin managing a crisis even before I realized one was building. Rather than a nuisance, the fog has become a very helpful tool.  It helps to challenge my cognitive distortions and let me live with a more balanced and helpful outlook. A version of the article has been published on The Mighty.