What hope looks like. My experience of depression

Warning: this post contains possible triggers for anyone with a history of depression or mental illness.

Last week's R U OK Day campaign to raise awareness of suicide prevention has prompted me to write a blog post about my experience with depression. It concerns me that despite ongoing awareness campaigns, depression is still perceived as a weakness of the spirit, and something that prompts us to collectively back away instead of holding each other closer. I don't imagine my story will do much to change this outrageously flawed and counter-intuitive approach but I think that the more of us who share our stories, the less potent the notion that depression is self-indulgent and trivial becomes. I hope. 

I have devoted my working life to writing about matters that range from the sparkly to the gritty, yet I struggle to assemble words that can even come close to accurately describing this incredibly bleak period of my life. It was 2000. I was 20, and in my final year of a communications degree at university. I was looking forward to a long-reaching, successful career as a journalist and had no reason to believe that would not pan out as I dreamed. I believed that good things happened to good people, crime happened only in TV shows and that New Zealand was the safest place in the world. I was wrong about all of these things.

I was working at a magazine part time while I studied (I've talked about that experience before). One bitterly cold evening in June, a much-loved and respected colleague was walking home from the bus stop when she was raped, repeatedly stabbed and left to die in a suburban park by a man out on parole after serving time for a sexual assault. Her body was found later that evening. We were called into a meeting the following day where volunteers from Victim Support (a truly wonderful organisation) were on hand as our boss, in absolute pieces, explained the horror that had unfolded overnight. 

When you receive news like this, your blood runs cold. You go into shock and you watch the room start to spin and you wait to be told the police have made a mistake and actually she's fine oh here she is of course she's OK what is this some sort of movie this is absolutely not happening. But they hadn't and she wasn't. 

My colleague and I were mates – she was sort of a mentor to me – although we were not close. But more than the loss of her it was the brutal manner of her death that catapulted me into depression, a fog so immense and terrifying it makes my hands shake to detail it here. This tragedy caused a violent rupture in my foundations. I ceased to function.

Although my memories of this time are fairly hazy (self-preservation, I guess), I do remember that I didn't eat for days at a time. I did not leave my bed for about three weeks – I couldn't find a reason to. I occasionally slept but was tortured by nightmares in which I was chased across town by sinister figures. I couldn't make decisions. I spoke to no one. I forgot to go to classes; I forgot what day it was. Time meant nothing. I had fallen off the edge of the world and I did not care where I landed. 

I was diagnosed with depression and told to take anti-depressants which, because I was so broken, was a practical task I couldn't deal with. I was encouraged to attend counselling but I had nothing to say, about anything. The world was dark and hostile and could never be anything else. There was no point to anything. This, friends, is why depression is so gravely destructive – if you don't care about anything, you stop participating in life. And that can lead you down a path of no return. Vastly more destructive than any physical injury I've ever had, depression crippled my emotional nerve centre, rendering me unable to feel – and for a long time it felt like no person, activity or human experience could shift that.

I knew I needed help but I didn't want it. I wanted to stay in my vacuum where I would never feel pain again. I didn't want to participate in a world that could be so unspeakably cruel.  

I'm very fortunate that my depression was circumstantial – it was prompted by a specific traumatic, grievous event, rather than the depression that fells so many people throughout their lives for no reason at all, without reprieve. When I started actually taking anti-depressants on a regular basis, they changed the chemistry in my brain enough that I could start to face up to what had happened (a process that took years) and slowly fumble my way through a powerful tide of emotions (and yes, I did eventually go to counselling). There were searing rage, a stomach-twisting injustice and an overriding bitterness, and there were agonising questions that will never be satisfactorily answered. 

I want to make it very clear that as immense as my despair was, I did not get to the point of wanting to take my own life. I cannot imagine the depths of hopelessness that brings people to that point, and I feel enormous sorrow for people in that situation, not to mention their families. What happened for me was that an unwillingness to cause pain to my sister, the person I love most in this world, slowly started to ignite a desire to fight back against the darkness.  my suffering was causing pain to the people I loved –but when you're depressed, your capacity to care about other people is disabled. Some people never get that prod – but that is not a failure on their part, it's just a reflection of the extent that this disease has them in its clutches. 

It took months but I eventually reached a point where I could imagine the possibility of maybe experiencing joy again, even though it would be always feel tarnished in some way. A smashed vase can be glued back together but the cracks will always be faintly visible.

While my struggle with depression is behind me now, it still casts a shadow over my life. No matter where I am or what I am doing, in the background there lurks the threat that I will one day fall into that deep pit again – and that this time, I will not be able to claw my way out. And since I'm being truly honest here, this fear is a major contributor to my decision not to have children. I cannot run the high risk of post-natal depression. (That said, if I desperately wanted children I would probably be willing to take that risk.)

This chapter of my life is why I want us, collectively, to keep talking about depression. It is real and it is ferocious – but we have each other and that is where we find hope. 

This is why 'hope' is my favourite word in the English language. It is why, two years later, I got a phoenix tattooed on my back (something I regret, but that's another story!). It is why I believe, in the words of Holocaust survivor Connie Ten Boom, that there is no hole so deep that God's love is not deeper still. It does not matter what God looks like to you – it only matters that you can find something more powerful than the darkness. Hold on to that. That is what hope looks like. 

If you need to talk to someone anonymously, at any time, call 13 11 14 (Australia), 800-442-HOPE (USA), 08457 90 90 90 (UK) or 0800 543 354 (New Zealand).

Speak your truth - the way you use your words is so important. This is how the throat chakra works

When you were a kid, did your mum often utter these fateful words? “This is the last time I’ll warn you about this!”  And did she follow through on that threat? 

When our words and actions don’t match up, that can signify an imbalance in the throat chakra, which is the energy centre concerned with communication. 

Spiritually, our words are very important because they connect us to the Universe, so making sure we don’t misuse them can really help us create the life we dream of. Essentially, what we say is a direct reflection of who we are and what we want. And if we can’t express ourselves well, that will adversely affect our relationships too.

While the base chakra’s adversary is fear and the heart chakra faces up to grief, the throat chakra’s challenge is lies. That’s because this energy centre is about how our words align (or not) with what we really mean.

Obviously speech is important when it comes to the throat chakra, but so is listening – which is a major component in healthy relationships, because when you think about it, all any human being really wants is to be heard. If you deny someone that right, ideally you would have a good reason (perhaps their words are detrimental to you, for example). 

When this chakra is in balance, you’re able to ask for what you want without apologising for it. You don’t need to yell or use a lot of words when you communicate with people. You listen – really listen! – to people instead of mentally preparing your response while they are still speaking.

The most common way an imbalance in this chakra shows up is when your words don’t match up with your behaviour – you don’t pay people when you say you will, you don’t ring them when you said you would... that type of thing. 

People who are deficient in the throat chakra might demonstrate these attributes:

* They can’t say no to anyone, even when they really want to

* They never say what they really think

* They have a quiet voice or an uncertain tone

* They give mixed messages (which is why nothing in their lives works out the way they want it to).

People who have excessive energy in the throat chakra might exhibit these qualities:

*They interrupt and talk over people

* They talk too much, for too long, and repeat themselves constantly

* They gossip regularly

(Image: the throat chakra symbol)

* They use bullying and overly critical words

* They are uncomfortable with silence.

To bring the throat chakra into balance, practise actively listening. If the energy in your throat chakra is deficient, finding ways to express your truth, such as journalling, can be beneficial. It if is excessive, undertaking periods of silence is said to help your throat chakra greatly.

Also, this sounds weird, but singing is actually really good for clearing the throat chakra, because it helps you find your voice. For yoga devotees, shoulder stands and plough pose target the throat chakra. 

If you’d like to work with me to heal any of the issues in this article, you can book energy healing sessions here. More information about how I work is available here.  

The law of attraction. Does it work? YES. Well, most of the time...

When Jim Carrey was a struggling actor, he wrote himself a cheque for $10 million for “acting services rendered”, dating it 10 years from that date. He did this because, despite growing up in poverty (his family lived in a car at one point), he believed he could hit the big time as an actor. And he did. Within 10 years he was earning millions for films such as Ace Ventura and The Mask.

This story is a wonderful illustration of how much power we have to manifest what we want. That’s a message that comes up in angel card readings all the time, and a concept that I’ve used in my own life to get what I had my heart set on. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Alas, this approach is not guaranteed – which can be disappointing. Here are my thoughts on why.

If you read The Secret when it came out a decade ago, you’re probably familiar with the law of attraction (I didn’t; I found it too gimmicky). Here’s the concept in a nutshell: whatever you want, you can attract through your thoughts. If you focus on what you don’t want, you’ll block what you want, and probably attract what you don’t. 

Here’s how I’ve used the law of attraction to manifest specific things:

* When I needed a car in 2010, I was fearful of buying a car that would break down on me, so I asked the Universe to find me a car like my friend owned, which was cheap to run and super reliable. Within a few days I had spotted that model of car on the side of the road near my house with a ‘for sale’ sign in the window. My dad checked it out and said it was a good buy, so I put in a low offer and got it. Too easy! That car is now owned by my brother and despite being more than 20 years old, it has yet to fail a warrant of fitness.

* When I moved back to Sydney last year I was nervous about making friends. As an introvert, social situations are challenging for me. I visualised myself encircled by a group of friends and laughing – and I returned my thoughts to this vision time and time again. A month after I arrived, the angels drew my attention to a newspaper story about a new social group that had started. I joined the group and within two months I had found myself part of a group of friends who are awesome, and have made me feel like I belong here.

On the other hand, sometimes the law of attraction has not delivered. This can happen because sometimes things that we think we need are actually not right for us. I wouldn’t, for example, recommend focusing on manifesting a winning lottery ticket. Even though you might think a truckload of money is exactly what you need for a better life, the Universe knows better. (Yes, it worked for Jim Carrey, but his goal was more about career success than the financial payoff.)

I have focused on attracting a wonderful man into my life for about four years now, without success. However I can see now that the timing was wrong – I wasn’t ready for a healthy relationship, even though I thought I was. I had so much work to do on myself, in particular, bolstering my woefully low self-esteem (my neediness was hardly an attractive quality). If I’d been in a long-term relationship, I would never have embarked on the journey of personal development that has brought me to where I am now. Not only am I now a more independent, resourceful person who knows that happiness and love are derived from within me rather than in a relationship, I’ve also forged a more fulfilling career in the spiritual realm. I would never have taken this direction I hadn’t delved within to find answers to my own discontentment.

And that’s the thing about the law of attraction – while we do have the power to attract what we want, what we want might not be in our best interests. And we don’t have any say in the timing.
This is why I’m wary of self-help books and wellness bloggers that promise you can have anything you want if you just think positive. This philosophy can lead to disappointment and disillusionment. (I’ve written about the inflated promises dolled out by some sectors of the self-help industry before, read my blog post here.)

Keep believing, people. The law of attraction isn’t a perfect mail order system but it *does* work. (Eventually.)

I’d love to hear how the law of attraction has worked for you. Email me if you’d like to share your story.

Why being lonely is so dangerous

There’s a fairly well-to-do woman in her early 60s living underneath me, who keeps ‘accidentally running into me’ when I exit the lift. Her favourite thing to do when she pounces is to run through an ever-changing litany of complaints, which may include: the way the man living on the level above me waters his plants (too overflowy!), the jazz music the pub down the street plays on Sunday afternoons (too jazzy!), a water pipe between my unit and hers (God knows what her issue is with that – it’s not even leaking). Eventually I figured out her complaints are not borne of dissatisfaction but a more powerful and very dangerous emotion – loneliness.

Research shows that loneliness is as ruinous to your health as smoking. It raises your blood pressure and cholesterol, suppresses your immunity (making you vulnerable to disease) and increases your risk of heart disease, because your body is under constant stress. 

It’s estimated that more than 40 per cent of us will feel the pang of loneliness at some point. And being in a long-term relationship is no protection – research shows that more than 60 per cent of lonely people are married. I can’t imagine the misery of being in a relationship with someone you feel disconnected from.

The common thread that underpins loneliness is a lack of connection. That might be geographic – moving to a city far away from your loved ones, for example – or it might be emotion driven – feeling like your friends don’t understand you, or that everyone around you is having different experiences to you (such as having children when you’re unable to). 

For me personally, the threat of loneliness has always been far more damaging than the emotion itself. Being an introvert, I’m actually pretty content with solitude. But the idea that having only myself for company could be enforced rather than a choice has, at times, gripped me with terror. This has resulted in some poor choices – going out on dates with men who bore me, remaining friends with people who I have nothing in common with, to name two.

This fear is not as strong for me now because as I’ve grown older I’ve come to understand that being alone does not equate to being lonely. And at an age where most people’s social networks are reducing as they focus more on their family units, I’ve made a conscious effort to expand my circles of friends, because I’ve realised how much these connections add to my life. This includes volunteer work at retirement homes, joining a social club and, yes, this blog – which has made me realise I have a great deal in common with a great deal of people. I think, too, that becoming more comfortable with being myself has helped me connect with people on a deeper level while also developing an awareness that isolation is really an illusion. 

For all these reasons I don’t give my whingeing neighbour the brush-off, although I can’t say spending time with her is a joy. And I’m not sure that me feigning interest in her chatter out of a sense of obligation is beneficial to her. But I try to keep in mind that loneliness is a miserable emotion and it can make us do unhealthy and unhelpful things – like complain (which tends to repel people). I can only hope that having some understanding of the mechanics of loneliness will help me to be more proactive about taking steps to prevent it when I get to her age and beyond.

I am scared of setting goals - because it means I have to try (and possibly fail)

Delta Goodrem sang that she was born to try, but sometimes I think I was born NOT to try.

For most of my life I have had a fear of failure bubbling under the surface that has kept me from committing to things. Which boils down to this limiting, and ultimately flawed, logic: if you don’t try, you can’t fail.

This unconscious belief came to the fore recently when Liz Gilbert espoused the value of creating a five-year plan. “If you don’t know where you wanna be in five years... you’re already there,” she wrote. I was at the hair salon so, with nothing better to do, I pulled out my ever-present notebook and started imagining how I wanted my life to look in five years. And after jotting down “have at least two dogs” and “have stayed in an ice hotel” I couldn’t think of anything.

Actually, that’s not true.

I thought of lots of other things I wanted, but I couldn’t write them down. Because writing them down would force me to commit to them. And that would mean I have to try to achieve them, running a high risk of failing.

“Writing down your goals causes a disturbance in your own soul – wakes you up, and makes you take notice of your own desires,” Liz wrote.

Well, yes, Liz. But I didn’t want to notice my own desires. Because then I would have to do something about them.

I didn’t want to write down the number of clients I’d like to have or the amount of days I’d like to work or the blog reach I’d like to be hitting. I particularly didn’t want to inscribe in words the healthy relationship I would love to be in but secretly fear I am not good enough for.

When I look back now, I can see this has been a pattern throughout my life. I have often resisted pitching big, challenging feature ideas to editors because I have been scared they’ll reject them, or, worse, commission them but I’ll do an abysmal job in bringing them to life. I have never bothered to try and save money for anything specific in case I can’t hit my target, proving myself to be completely inept.

This mindset may be something I picked up from my play-it-safe parents (this is not a criticism, BTW, merely an observation of their generation), who are, I think, proud but slightly baffled at my bravery/stupidity (my words, not theirs) in opening a reiki and angel-card-reading business, but mostly it’s due to my own subconscious desire to protect myself. I have realised that it’s not the humiliation of failure that I’m afraid of, it’s the suspicion that that failure would prove that I was not good enough to have the thing I wanted.

Some spiritual teachers are opposed to using the word “try” in goal-setting because they say it gives you licence to fail. Saying “I’m going to try and run a marathon” is less potent than “I’m going to run a marathon” because the first option makes it more acceptable to quit – after all, you only committed to trying. I can see this point, but for me there’s strength in the trying. For me, *that’s* the point of power. Because when I take action, I’ve committed.

What this five-year-plan exercise did show me was that, yes, I have a fear of failure that takes the form of not trying – but it’s not completely paralysing me. There is a major area of my life where I am doing OK on this front. My business is not going as well as I’d hoped, but I am still showing up. Because my will to make a success of this is stronger than my fear of it failing. Maybe focusing on that is the key to defeating my allergy to trying.

Now, to try that five-year-plan exercise again…

 To read Liz Gilbert's post about five-year plans, click here.