Oh. Well, No Wonder.

I've been reading this thread - on the believing LDS blog "By Common Consent".  It is very interesting.

 I personally am glad that the stigma among LDS is lifting, and that people are finally beginning to talk about depression and mental illness.  There is an acceptance that mental illness is real, not some scam by greedy therapists.  There is an acceptance that it has some basis in biology and cannot be simply prayed or studied away.

I did see this quote from an LDS leader (prophet) from 1986. 

Ezra Taft Benson, “Do Not Despair”, Oct. 1986. (this is the fourth paragraph down), in case anyone would like to verify my sources.

“First, repentance. In the Book of Mormon we read that “despair cometh because of iniquity.” (Moro. 10:22.) “When I do good I feel good,” said Abraham Lincoln, “and when I do bad I feel bad.” Sin pulls a man down into despondency and despair. While a man may take some temporary pleasure in sin, the end result is unhappiness. “Wickedness never was happiness.” (Alma 41:10.) Sin creates disharmony with God and is depressing to the spirit. Therefore, a man would do well to examine himself to see that he is in harmony with all of God’s laws. Every law kept brings a particular blessing. Every law broken brings a particular blight. Those who are heavy-laden with despair should come unto the Lord, for his yoke is easy and his burden is light. (See Matt. 11:28–30.)”

All I can do is sit back and wonder - and shake my head.

I've spoken before about undiagnosed depression within my family growing up.  Well, no wonder!  My parents were faithful mormons.  We didn't drink caffeinated sodas or go to birthday parties on Sunday.  My parents took their mormon faith very seriously.

Here was the LDS mormon leader, saying (in 1986) that depression happens because of sin and wickedness - because a person is not doing enough.

That a person first needs to check that they were doing everything right before admitting they are depressed.    The cycle of self-condemnation and feelings of worthlessness will probably continue for the depressed person.

And for my friends who read this blog who are not mormon - the LDS prophet is supposed to talk straight to God.  So hearing someone say something like this - it's very close to having God say it (for some believing mormons). 

I'm not disavowing personal responsibility, because that is still there.  But to hear this attitude, not from an individual LDS bishop or stake president, but from someone in authority - the attitude that depression is the result of sin begins to make more sense (to me). 

How many people and families were harmed by this attitude and these types of statements?  How many thought that the depression/mental illness was their fault and something they could change (without professional help or medication)?  I'm not sure.  But again, I'm glad this is changing. 

For me personally, however, it is like a puzzle piece being put into place.  It just explains more of my experience.

Identical Strangers

In some discussions with people this week, I realized I hadn't reviewed this book yet here.  I originally heard about it on npr (not surprisingly), and was fascinated.  At this link, there is a brief story about the book and an excerpt. 

As the mother, I can't imagine separating my twins.  Yes, they currently have separate rooms, but not raising them together, not allowing them to interact.  Not allowing them to know from an early age that they have a sibling born on the same day.

I can't imagine the ethics of separating twins either.  It's true, the first few months of their lives were really, really difficult for me.  Having one newborn is difficult enough - but two is even more difficult.  Because they don't sleep at the same time!

Before reading this book, I didn't think separating twins was a good idea.  Afterwards, I find I disagree with it strongly.  Particularly separating twins for research - no matter how valuable the data gained may be. 

I am also someone who supports psychological research into mental health and illness.  Also I support research into the genetic causes for various diseases and behaviors.  It is important. 

We can draw lines with experimenting on human beings and we should.  If experiementation is done, it needs to have the proper consent and review by ethics panels.  This is definitely something worth talking about as a society (where the lines are) - because it's not always clear.  If the research may harm the participants, the proposal should be denied. Of course, harm is also difficult to define - again, why the panels and review are important.

Finally, I believe that the archives should be opened so these women can see the research findings on them personally.  The researchers studied them until they were a year old, but I think they have a right to that information. 

I believe the archives are currently closed for another thirty to fifty years.  And there were other adoptees who were studied, separately, for longer. Some who may not realize that they have a twin sibling.  It seems like the plot of a gothic novel, but it was real, and the people involved were genuine. 

In the end, again, I know the "nature vs. nurture" question is compelling.  For some things, however, does it matter why?  Some things are the way they are.  There aren't any easy answers, obviously, if there were we would have found them already.

Anxiety!

My anxiety levels have been through the roof recently. And it's odd (for me) because nothing has really changed.

Things are going well and have been pretty stable for some time now.

I hesitate to even mention this, as it's over-sharing no doubt, but I also try to be pretty honest about my journey and where I'm at.

And, if there is one person reading this blog who has ever been remotely near this place (where I am), and thinks twice about getting help because they think "well, aerin did it, so maybe I can too" - that's why I'm bringing this up.

So a person doesn't feel like they are the only person on earth who has ever felt this way. Where I physically feel a tightness in my chest - it's hard to breathe.

Deep breathing/meditation doesn't seem to help. Haven't broken out the "Anxiety and Phobia Workbook" yet, but that's helped in the past.



I'm going to make an appointment and get it checked out. Who knows where the journey will lead.

I'm so thankful that the stigma on this type of thing is disappearing.

It is still there. And it's not covered by some health insurance (another complaint I have)....

Sometimes I still even hear people say something like "you have to be really crazy to..." but honestly, I feel it's a little like alcoholism and addiction. Sure, there are a ton of people out there who are severe alcoholics/addict, the wild off the wall non functioning type who are homeless, family -less or worse because they can't stop drinking - the 10% or so. Then there are the rest who may have a problem, but they keep up with their job, their families, some of their responsibilities. In other words, functioning alcoholics.

Yeah, I know that functioning line is hard to draw.

What I'm saying is, I don't have to have lost everything in my life to realize I need help.

Someone wise I read recently mentioned that in our culture/society - we know so many buzzwords for self-help and therapy that we don't think we really need to work on things - with a professional. The idea of opening up can be terrifying.

I grew up in a family where the stigma was incredibly real. As I've mentioned before, my own mom went years before being officially treated and diagnosed. I remember hearing that shrinks weren't interested in helping anyone, just keeping people in therapy. I heard that if we all just prayed more, and read the scriptures we would be okay.

And I can't help but think sometimes about all that wasted time. If we hadn't been fighting that stigma as a family.

Ignoring the problem didn't work for us then and it will definitely NOT work for me now.

So I'm going to continue to breathe. Wish me luck.

Acceptance

Asking why is not always useful.

That's my thought for today. Specifically, why someone may suffer from a specific disease/illness. Genetic research might help, but in the end, for some things there is just not an easy answer.

I've talked before about the illusion of choice here, how there were all sorts of things that were pre-determined for me before I was born. And then the community I grew up in, the schools I went to, experiences I've had. All have shaped my attitudes and how I got to this exact place.

It must be acceptance - the notion of accepting things I have no control over (like my genetics). This can be very difficult for a person. But I believe once we accept certain things, like having high cholesterol or suffering from depression; we can begin to move on.

I've talked about comparing relationship and life decisions to poker hands before here. **

There is a reason that the phrase " the luck of the draw" exists. Some people get a "good"/workable set of cards and others don't. That's just life.

A person can spend all their energy trying to figure out why they were dealt certain set of cards. But at some point, all any of us can do is to accept what is and move on. It's saying "I'm at point x. So what can I do with what I have?"

For some people, it takes longer than others.

**The amusing thing is, when the cards have played out, the jack/nine I had didn't work. It was almost a hand of three three's instead. But I'm still employed two years later, which is what matters.

Greater than myself

As always, this is all just my personal opinion and should be taken as such. I respect that many disagree with me.

As a society, it seems like there is so much focus on a particular demographic (14 - 22 year olds) that I believe we forget that there is a lot that we don't know. And sometimes, it's not the 14 - 20 year olds who are on the cutting edge of this front. It's those who have paid their dues, who have spent lifetimes experiencing, living, studying. (As an aside, I'm not suggesting that older is always wiser).

There is so much that is unknown (period). And there are so many different types of unknowns.

Personally, I can certainly explain a great deal about Russian history during a particular period of time - but would stare at you blankly when asked about quantum physics or advanced calculus.

Things would be quite different if we knew all the answers. I certainly don't have them. I don't know why sh*t happens. I don't know why good stuff happens either. (If I did, I certainly wouldn't be sitting around blogging about it!)

Of course, lots of religions (and other things) have evolved to help explain the unexplainable.

I just find the concept of something greater than myself attractive. That thing could be nature, evolution, love, time, physics, a higher power and/or God (whatever you may call God).

Simply the idea that I don't have all the answers - and there is no way, in my human lifetime, I could ever find all the answers.

Not even that there is a design or reason for everything. But that at this given moment, I can't comprehend it all. Sometimes I may just need to talk with friends or loved ones. Sometimes I can find insight from reading what others have written in the past.

The important concept (for me) is, I'm human. I make mistakes. I have insights and faults. I allow others the same freedom and compassion.

Sometimes it just seems like our society or generation is so me/self focused - the idea that any of us could really "get it" at 16 is hard to fathom. There are things that can be understood, but there's a lot that cannot be easily understood as well.

Life is not simple.

The older I get, the more I realize how much I don't know. How life is not black and white (cannot be reduced to simple maxims or theories). I suppose I thought that I would have a better understanding as I got older, and I just don't seem to be any closer to explaining it all.

I'm not suggesting that anyone has been arguing that they know it all or that they have all the answers.

Just that it takes humility to admit I have limits (just like everyone).

If nothing else, I hope I can share that with my kids - the sense of compassion for others and a sense of awe that life can bring.

We've Come a Long Way

I was thinking the other day about my great grandparents. I'm fortunate enough to know the names of each of my great grandparents, and some of what they did.

I realized that out of the four sets of great grandparents, all four were subsistence farmers. That is, if you count raising chickens as subsistence farming. If not, two were farmers, one worked for a factory. (As an aside, my cousin chanson has two posts about one side of the family, with the family history label here; one about moonshine, the other about some of the family independence). With the fourth set, I can't remember what my great grandpa did for a living. I know his wife owned and managed properties near the end of her life.

The point of all this is that some days I marvel at the amount and variety of choices that I have.

If I had been born a hundred or so years ago as a woman, my choices would have been greatly diminished. I would probably be the wife of a farmer. I would probably not have been able to go to college - finishing high school would have been considered successful. There's a good chance that my hereditary poor eyesight would not have been treated.

Of my four sets of great grandparents, the smallest family had three children. The largest had nine surviving to adulthood. I would have probably had some number of children in between.

Only one set of my great grandparents divorced. I'm not sure why they divorced exactly, although I'm suspicious it had something to do with mental illness and/or addiction (both of which were rarely treated at the time).

I would have gone to church each Sunday, as that's what people did. All sets of grandparents were religious- to one degree or another. Two sets of my great grandparents were mormon, one set was Ukrainian Orthodox.

I know some of my friends have to make some hard choices in the coming months. The nature of those choices vary. I'm sure I will have to make difficult choices in the future, although perhaps not as soon.

Some days the infinite nature of possibilities can be overwhelming. But on my good days, I remember just how fortunate I am to be able to choose. To not be stuck on the farm or in a bad marriage with many children I couldn't feed.

Now, I'm not suggesting that all lives or realities were this way, just that many might have been. It's good to remember just how far we've come.

Replay

This novel gave me a lot to think about. Conventional wisdom says that people would do things differently if they were able to live over again.

In this book, the author speculates that we would not want to do it all over again if we had the chance.

The main character, Jeff, has a heart attack in 1988 and dies - only to wake up in 1963 as an eighteen year old freshman in college. He relives the entire twenty five years again - through the Kennedy assassination and Star Wars - only to start all over again. There is no reason given why he has to relive so many times. No one (in his immediate life)understands what he's going through. If/when he talked about it with anyone, they would think he was crazy. No one questions how he makes great predictions about stocks like IBM or Apple, however.

I won't go through the entire plot (particularly the ending) but it was thought-provoking for me. At one point in the beginning, Jeff returns to his parents' home with everything intact. His Dad (who later dies from emphysema) is still smoking. His younger sister is a cheerful pre-teen - when Jeff knows that she will face many difficulties, including two divorces.

What's thought-provoking for me is the realization that there is so little in our lives that we actually control. And that there is nothing we can control in the people we love. We can have conversations about things, we can set boundaries - but in the end (to follow the metaphor) - our parents will still smoke, our siblings will go through rough times. And the world will still move on as it always has.

At one point, during his first time reliving his life, Jeff meets his future wife in the same place they had met before. But this time, he is a totally different person, wealthy and (seemingly) snobby. He had found wealth by betting on the world series and Kentucky Derby winners. Not realizing that she knows nothing about him, his knowledge of her comes off as creepy. They don't make a connection and he's left trying to find someone else (in that iteration) he can trust.

He does try to make some changes, to prevent Kennedy from being assassinated, for example. But Kennedy is still murdered - but by someone else instead of Lee Harvey Oswald. In other words, there is only so much that one person can affect - and one intervention in time impacts other interventions downstream.

These types of loop stories are fairly common in science fiction (and tv shows). There's a part of human wistfulness - we want to go back and make different decisions. Sell off stocks before they tank. Save a person's life.

But after reading this book, and how emotionally difficult it is for the main character - I realize that in reality, I don't think I would ever want to go back to my freshman year of college (or high school). One would think the endless possibilities might be nice.

On the other hand, just as I would have to go back through all that joy (and there has been a lot of joy over the years) - there would also be all that pain. Readjusting my expectations (of the world, of myself). Suffering from clinical depression. Leaving mormonism and dealing with the pain that caused my family. Watching my loved ones make choices I disagreed with, impacting their health, impacting our relationships. Figuring out that I was trying to manipulate and control people I love(d).

In other words - all the highs and all the lows. I've learned from the lows - but I don't want to go back there. All the amazing things that have happened, and what I could change, I'm not sure would be worth going back through those valleys.

Socially Awkward (with mashed potato bonus)

I've worked with at least two people who would probably fall on the autistic spectrum if they were tested. Working with such people in cubicle land can actually be quite stressful.

Because it's not easy working with anyone who doesn't read social cues - who doesn't pick up on what is appropriate and what is not appropriate. (News flash: talking about your exercise regimen at full volume for an hour, probably not appropriate). I too struggle with this line, but I think I do pretty well most of the time.

I have compassion for them, but that doesn't make it any easier to be around them.

Wry talked about arguments in her post here. I think because of my experience with people with mental illnesses, I find it's a lot easier to just let a conversation go.

I'll give an example. I feel like I've mentioned this before, but couldn't find the post. One person (we'll call him person A) went up to my boss one day. (My boss worked in the cubicle next to mine). He (person A) started out the conversation with "Well, she finally did it". My boss asked what he was talking about. It turned out that his niece had taken her life a few days before. She (the niece) had struggled with depression and addiction.

His flippant attitude really angered me. I thought - how incredibly sad. If I know anything about addiction and mental illness - it's that no one chooses to be there. Most addicts and people who suffer from mental illness deserve our compassion more than anything. Not that we have to enable their behavior - but at least have sympathy.

After I heard this uncle, I had an incredible amount of compassion for his niece - for living in such a family. Sure, she probably made mistakes. She may have even made a lot of mistakes. Stealing from family, ignoring responsibilities, lying, etc.

My point in this story is simply that - this co-worker of mine had no idea that I would find his attitude offensive. That I have known many people over the years who were suicidal and who have suffered from addiction. I've watched families break apart and friendships end over what happens. Some people never get over the loss.

I didn't want to share this with this person - I doubt he would change his opinion even if he knew. (For the record, I got into another discussion with this co-worker about ingredients in mashed potatoes. Just so you know, sour cream and chives are not valid ingredients, just butter, milk, salt and pepper).

So when I think of my energy for these types of conversations, this is exactly what I'm thinking about. I could argue with this person for hours about mashed potato ingredients and not get anywhere. And in the process - I would miss out on life passing me by. A beautiul sunset - throwing snowballs at my kids, making pumpkin bread. If nothing else, time I could have spent clearing my own head, meditating.

If this person wants to believe that addiction is a weakness and good mashed potatoes don't have sour cream in them - that's their right. I'm not going to waste my time in that discussion.

Smiling all the time

I've mentioned before that I studied in Russia for three months back in the 90s. It was an amazing experience and eye-opening for many reasons.

My host family didn't have a car, and the public transportation was good (if not reliable. So I was able to observe quite a bit.

As college students, we were told that Russians generally thought Americans smiled too much. They told us it seemed that Americans smiled all the time. That in Russian culture, smiles were generally reserved for good friends, for times you were genuinely happy.

One day, I remember seeing a babushka (an older woman) walkng down the street crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't appear homeless or unkempt. I couldn't tell if she was in physical pain, or perhaps had lost a loved one recently. Perhaps she was thinking about loved ones she had lost during World War II and Stalin's purges. I was only looking out the window from the tram - and we quickly passed. (This is not the woman, this is only a photo of a random woman from that time).




What struck me was the incredible difference in our cultures. I can't imagine a person in American culture walking down the street openly crying (not homeless). And no one noticing. And no one stopping that person to ask if they could help or what was wrong. A person was given their space. And they also didn't have act happy or put on some sort of false face.

Because, let's face it, that was/is a country with separatist regions. Where many people (especially older people) are desperately poor and also probably hungry.

That's not to say that I didn't observe tremendous social pressure in Russia, or kindness and caring. Just that the attitude towards pain and suffering was very different.

It does seem a little ridiculous in our culture that we're supposed to hold it together no matter what. In the pilot of "Six Feet Under", the oldest brother Nate laments the stuffy/hidden nature of most American mourning. If a widow or other relative breaks down during a funeral, they're taken to another room to be comforted. Because that brash, intense display of sorrow might be too much for the family and friends. It wouldn't be dignified.

We are social creatures and creatures of habit. Sometimes it's nice to have someone share a smile, pat you on the back and say "we're here for you". Or "we're thinking/praying for you".

I say, there are some things that it takes time to bounce back from. Some that we'll never get over. I'm not about to tell people how to feel - but I will say - it's okay to mourn. To have a bad day. To have a bad week, month or even year. It's okay to not be perky all the time.

Below are two additional photos I took at the time, the first of a home/business.



This is some trash that was in the hallway the entire time I studied at the university. Although, I have to say, I just emptied some file folders at my work that had been sitting there for 5 years, with the dust to prove it. So things do have a way of sitting around, no matter which continent you are on.