Tag: indigenous rights

How One Depressed Person is Coping with Social Distancing

Covid-19, Coronavirus, Social Distancing, Quarantine. Potential economic collapse. A president who can’t even speak in complete sentences. Our current context is incredibly difficult for anyone to cope with. I can only really speak from my perspective, though, and as someone who suffers from depression and anxiety I’m here to report: we are not ok. 

Holy shit, this is scary. People with anxiety are prone to catastrophizing: jumping directly to the worst-case-scenario possible in literally any situation. This is a legitimate thought distortion that many people experience during times of great stress. The general hysteria leading regular, every-day people to ransack big box stores for toilet paper, Ramen, and peanut butter is all evidence of this. 

But when you spend a good deal of your daily energy trying to keep yourself from dissolving into paranoid hysterics on a regular day, the rest of the world succumbing to those kinds of thoughts is a horrifying trigger. One tried and true method for bringing yourself back from the edge of a panic attack while catastrophizing, is trying to find evidence for how likely that worst-case-scenario would be. Usually, it is really difficult to find that evidence because our worst-case-scenarios are super unlikely. But right now, our worst-case-scenarios are what everyone else believes will happen too.

So, what the fuck do we do now?

What we’re going through as a collective is tough. As always, I have been on a little bit of a roller coaster because of it. That being said, I’m doing ok. And I want everyone to be ok. So I’m here to tell you what I’m doing, and how I’m coping; in case it helps anyone out there. No strategy will ever be 100% successful, but together we can help each other survive. 

Radical Acceptance

Radical Acceptance is something I learned at my partial hospitalization program I did in December. Essentially, this strategy acknowledges that fighting against painful realities achieves nothing but suffering. In other words, desperately wishing a painful aspect of your current reality out of existence achieves nothing but anxiety. If you are practicing radical acceptance you are: accepting the situation as true and final, understanding what you can and cannot control about the situation, being non-judgemental, allowing yourself to feel your negative emotions rather than pushing them away. Once you engage in radical acceptance, you free yourself from the burden of worrying about the outcome of a situation you have no control over. You allow yourself to build a reality that works for you within the boundaries of what is possible, even if it’s not ideal. 

How have I been practicing radical acceptance while social distancing? Well, we are not supposed to spend time in public, in situations with 10+ people, we shouldn’t touch our faces, or go to work, we can’t celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. All of that is fact. I can’t change it, no matter how much I want it to not be true.

But there are things I can control about the situation. I can use the privilege of my able body and salaried position to help others however possible. On one hand, that means social distancing so I don’t contribute to others contracting something that could impact them worse than it would me. It also means giving the money I’m not spending on recreation due to business closures to those who don’t have financial privilege to get them through this mess (if you haven’t seen people posting about ways to share your disposable income with those who need it, scroll down and check the links at the bottom of this page).

I can also control how I use my time during this crisis. I could spend my days stressing about the rate my supplies are depleting, missing my friends, desperate to leave my house. Or I could see this time that’s been given to me as a gift. 

We could all really use a vacation

I want to start this section by acknowledging my privilege. I understand for many reasons this time off of work is stressful to many not in my situation (this is why I have been venmo-ing various people and organizations money for the last week). 

I also believe that if we take care of each other, and take it upon ourselves to redistribute resources to support members of our community, we all could take advantage of this time off.

Capitalism is hard, dude. Whether you believe in it or not, the colonial capitalist system we live in is not easy to navigate. There’s a lot of stress in capitalism. There’s always pressure to be the best. There’s a constant race to cover your bills and afford the material goods that prove your worth to those around you, while only ever looking out for “number one.” Our culture doesn’t value breaks. It doesn’t value down time. It doesn’t value taking time out to refuel and support your mental health. 

Well, regardless of whether or not Capitalism values it, we are all officially on a break. Seeing this time as a “break” doesn’t erase the fact that it’s scary, it’s difficult, it’s overwhelming, That being said, spending your time being scared and overwhelmed won’t fix anything either. So we’re on break. 

What have you been refusing to do because you don’t have time? What hasn’t fit into your schedule because of work and family obligations? How long has it been since you’ve taken a walk in the sunshine? How long has it been since you’ve written a poem? Or learned a new skill? Or practiced meditation? Or made a scrapbook? Or baked cookies? Or learned a new language?

Within the parameters of what will keep you and your community safe, what could you use this time for if you weren’t scared?

Let’s make art

A new friend I’ve recently gotten close to reminded me that destruction is a gift. 

This is kind of a radical idea but, what if everything falling apart was clearing the way for new growth? What if desperately clinging to the safe reality we had before is keeping us from creating something that will actually work for more of us in the future? What if accepting destruction will clear the path for creation and growth? 

Basically what I’m saying is: during this quarantine, if we’re not making art, finding ways to laugh, and orgasming as much as possible, what are we doing, really?

Links to where you should send your money (I’ll post more as I find them):

Navajo and Hopi Family Covid-19 relief fund

Help youth climate activist Daphne Frias fight Covid-19

No Kid Hungry

Unified Phoenix Service Relief Fund for people in the service industry in Phoenix going without pay right now

Donate to help Navajo families maintain their access to fresh water

Why “the Holidays” are Hard When You Have Depression

Disclaimer: I was raised in a white Christian household in a Judeo-Christian community in America. I don’t assume that I speak for anyone who celebrates any other sort of holiday in any other sort of cultural community.

As I sat on my couch on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, trying to write a post about my feelings towards Thanksgiving this year, I was literally paralyzed with anxiety. No words would come out. My interior monologue reached a level of chaos that resulted in my brain short-circuiting. I had to put my computer away, pour myself a glass of wine, do some yoga, watch an episode of Modern Love on Amazon Prime. That’s how anxious Thanksgiving made me.

Disclaimer #2: My anxiety had nothing to do with Thanksgiving itself, although I know that is a reality for many. If you would like to know more about how I’ve tried to decolonize my brain and my thoughts on Thanksgiving, don’t talk to me, read and learn from the actual source. You can access indigenous voices on the topic here and here. Challenging my white family members on our views of Thanksgiving does make me anxious every year, but I see it as my duty and I don’t allow myself the right to complain about it.

Happy Thanksgiving from my family!

Then I realized I was anxious for many reasons that are indicative of our cultural stigmas around mental health, our societal culture of “toxic positivity,” and norms around what is and isn’t acceptable as “small talk” with people you don’t see very often. Luckily, my Thanksgiving was actually pretty amazing. There were fewer people there than usual. The relatives that did come are people I see fairly often (who are already updated on my life). None of my worst-case-scenarios came true and I was able to take breaks when I was feeling overwhelmed.

That being said, I decided I should still write a post about my feelings leading up to “the holiday season” this year, as I have a feeling I’m not alone in this anxiety. So, below you will find some of the things associated with the holidays that make them so damn hard when you have depression.

“How are you?”

I hate this question. As a culture, Midwestern Americans especially ask this question as if it’s another greeting. A mere synonym for saying hello. The problem is, I have met very few distant acquaintances/extended family members who actually are interested in how you are doing. Instead, the expected response is a simple “good” or “fine” or, if you’re feeling spicy, “living the dream.” Then we get to move on with a surface-level conversation, re-breaking the ice that formed between us over the passed months of little to no contact.

The problem is, I’m not good. I don’t feel fine. And I am definitely not living out my dreams right now. I am depressed. I just spent 48 hours in a psychiatric hospital because I made, and almost acted on, a suicide plan. I am taking a two month leave from work. But when people ask how I am, they are generally not looking for me to unload on them about my depression. They don’t want to hear the details of my low self-esteem and PTSD. When people ask “How are you?” they are looking for the culturally accepted stock-answer that will help them break the ice and feel more comfortable.

This cultural norm makes me feel trapped. I no longer have the emotional capacity to pretend everything is fine to make others feel more comfortable. Forcing myself to paste a smile on my face and make small talk like this is forcing myself back into the bottom of the well of my depression. It makes me feel disconnected, alone, invisible. Since my mental breakdown, I have decided I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to lie and say I’m fine when I’m not. And if my answer makes the questioner uncomfortable, maybe don’t ask how I am if you don’t want to hear a genuine answer.

And, ultimately, why? Why would my genuine answer make someone uncomfortable? Why would a family member, who claims to care about me, who is asking how I am, feel uncomfortable with me talking to them about my depression? Knowing my depression makes others uncomfortable is part of what kept me from opening up about it in the first place. This need to hide my depression and appear is if everything is fine for the sake of others’ comfort is part of what forced me on the island that led to my suicidal ideation in the first place.

Catching Up

Last year, at my family’s Christmas Eve party, I announced that I was the 2019 recipient of a prestigious award in public teacher terms, especially as a 4th year teacher. This year, at my family’s Christmas Eve party, I have nothing to announce. My only “news” going on in my life right now is my mental breakdown.

I only see many of my family members twice a year: for Christmas and for our family reunion in the summer time. We are not unique in this pattern. “The Holidays” are a popular time of year for making announcements as most people can count on getting their family in one place for in-person communication and celebration. Even sans important announcements, these infrequent meetings usually result in a great deal of catching up. I can expect a lot of questions about my life, my job, and the general goings-on over the previous six months of not seeing each other.

Let me be clear, the practice of asking about your family members’ lives is not a bad thing. The problematic part is our cultural stigmas about what types of “news” people often feel comfortable sharing and/or hearing about. Telling my family about an award I won was exciting and exhilarating. I announced it with pride, confidence, and (dare I say) swagger. On the other hand, having a mental breakdown, spending time in a psychiatric hospital, and taking a leave from work; all that doesn’t seem like news I should be sharing. It’s too negative, too dark.

When I think about answering my relatives’ queries with the truth about what is going on with me, I feel embarrassed and ashamed. Like I somehow failed (especially in comparison with where I was in my career last year). Furthermore, the topic of mental health isn’t something many families I know talk about openly. I’ve operated within a dynamic my entire life where we only talk about happy things because we don’t want to bum anyone out or make anyone uncomfortable.

This seems harmless. If I don’t see someone for a while we obviously want to keep our time together positive and fun. Unfortunately, this is an example of “toxic positivity.” According to Psychology Today, “The phrase “toxic positivity” refers to the concept that keeping positive, and keeping positive only, is the right way to live your life. It means only focusing on positive things and rejecting anything that may trigger negative emotions.” Forcing ourselves to only share positive things reinforces feelings of shame and failure when you are going through something that isn’t positive. Feeling ashamed of my depression is part of what made it so difficult for me to seek help. Feeling like my loved ones don’t want to hear about my darkness reinforced my need to pretend everything was fine. This led to those same feelings of isolation and invisibility. My depression is part of me. I don’t want to be ashamed of it anymore.

Hugging

If your family is like mine, everyone expects a hug hello, and a hug goodbye (I also have 27 first cousins, and my family events run 100 people strong so this process takes some time). I love my family very much. I am not a hugger.

Being forced to hug family members as a kid was the earliest messaging I received that my body is not my own property. I have anxiety. Part of my anxiety is an extreme discomfort being touched by people with whom I don’t have an intimate relationship. Regardless of my feelings towards hugging, I grew up in a socio-cultural environment where it was considered rude if I didn’t hug even one family member in both greeting and farewell. If I refused to hug someone, my elders would be disappointed in my “attitude.”

The knowledge that I will be forced to hug 100+ people that I barely ever see is daunting. Attending a family party means knowingly walking into a situation where I will be forced out of my physical comfort zone against my will over and over again. Additionally, the knowledge that my natural boundaries around physical touch is a disappointment to my family members increases my feelings of shame and failure about my mental health.

I do love “the holidays.” Like many people I know, some of my favorite childhood and family memories center around this time of year. But I also have depression and anxiety, and navigating the holidays and mental health is difficult. If you’re reading this and you have a family member that suffers with mental health issues, think about what it would take to be an ally to them as they navigate the social politics of family functions this time of year. Although spending time with family can be stressful, it was also my family that made my Thanksgiving so pleasant as the people in attendance chose understanding and support over commitment to social norms. And that’s all I can really ask for.