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November 24, 2009


In two weeks, I will travel to the Washington, DC, area to meet with a group that will explore ways for people with psychiatric disorders to improve their overall wellness. This meeting weighs heavily on me as I think about the challenges we face.

A recent study by the National Association of State Mental Health Program Directors (NASMHPD) reported that people with psychiatric conditions die 25 years earlier than the average population. The reasons are many, but when I think about them, I quickly become frustrated with the challenges before us.

Medications often cause us to gain weight, which can contribute to diabetes, high blood pressure, strokes, heart ailments, and a host of other maladies. We are in a tough situation because we know that our medications are often vital to keeping our minds clear so we can function. Abandoning our medication regimen is usually not a viable—or advisable—option.

Lack of exercise is also a problem. It prevents us from maintaining an optimum weight and robs us of cardiovascular benefits. With many psychiatric conditions, especially depression, mustering the energy to exercise is often a huge challenge, even though we know the activity will help us.

And where can we exercise if we live in a poverty-stricken neighborhood ridden with crime and we don’t have transportation to enjoy a park?

What we eat is also a consideration, but finding nutritious food and eating healthy can be a challenge; fresh fruits and vegetables are expensive and nutritionists recommend that we get as many of our daily calories as possible from protein-rich foods. Those in low income, urban areas often find the local “grocery store” is little more than a repository of chips, pop, candy, and alcohol. This is hardly a healthy diet. Instead, many of us are relegated to eating processed foods heavy with empty calories.

Tobacco use is another bane of our community. Tobacco offers at least a small measure of solace even though it is consuming a greater portion of our budgets. Those of us who seek relief from psychiatric symptoms through alcohol or illegal drugs are at even greater risk.

Is it any wonder we die earlier than the average person? Is there anything we can do? Thankfully, yes.

Creating a healthy lifestyle is, indeed, a lifestyle change for many of us. Such a radical change is not accomplished easily. It takes careful planning and preparation. As a person who is overweight, drinks too many colas, and smokes cheap cigars, I know full well the challenges of lifestyle change.

Plans have been made, however, and I am hopeful I can alter my behavior for my benefit. Encouraging me are friends and family who remind me they want me around as long as possible.

My weight is the first issue I have tackled. I once weighed 224 pounds and with a five-foot, six-inch frame, I was indeed obese. I was constantly short of breath, fatigued, and found my wardrobe was much too small. Being the frugal person I am, I thought it better to lose weight than to buy all new clothing.

I figured I would save enough money by losing weight to pay to consult with a nutritionist (sometimes called a “dietician”). She instructed me in how to eat healthy yet keep within my budget. She encouraged me to buy an inexpensive but useful book that listed thousands of foods and their caloric content. A “diet log” helped me keep track of the calories I was consuming and brief biweekly meetings helped us monitor my progress.

She also recommended easy exercises I could do in my neighborhood or within my home. With each step of a walk or bend of a sit up, I could almost feel the calories burning.

Following the nutritionist’s advice, I discovered new ways of eating, and I found I could do it within my budget and without feeling starved. Carrying 43 pounds less, I have more energy and feel better about the accomplishment and myself. My clothes fit again!

I still want to attain my goal of 165 pounds, and I am making progress. It is a slow process, but the lifestyle change and plan fill me with confidence that I will keep the weight off.

The nutritionist suggested I take one unhealthy habit at a time. Next, I plan to tackle smoking. I am investigating the physiological effects of nicotine in the body so I can better understand how to set my plan. I am talking with others who have quit and selecting cessation strategies that may work best for me.

Most of all, I am keeping my “eye on the prize.” Once I stop smoking I’ll have more money for fun activities, energy to enjoy them, and climbing three flights of stairs will no longer leave me breathless.

Along the way, I’m keeping track of my blood pressure and blood sugar levels. I’m watching them improve. Gradually, that life insurance policy I bought is appearing to be a frivolous investment.

When I return from this meeting of experts, I’ll share what I learned about how we can help ourselves and others. Yes, we have serious challenges that involve major lifestyle changes. But we can do this. We can live longer, healthier, and happier!


November 10, 2009

News of the Fort Hood tragedy, in which a military psychiatrist randomly shot at least 40 people, is very disturbing. The incident has brought attention to the mental health needs of military personnel.

It is important to remember the recent and extensive efforts the Veterans Administration (VA) to expand and enhance mental health services to returning service personnel. I have had the good fortune of spending time learning about these services first-hand, and even an old cynic like me has to be impressed.

Much money has recently been directed to VA medical facilities across the country where psychiatric issues represent 60 percent of all services at some facilities. But simply throwing money at a problem does not guarantee results. Fortunately, those funds have been used in a thoughtful, practical manner, and accountability is a function of the expenditure process.

What has happened? First, there is recognition that returning veterans have issues beyond post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Depression, anxiety, and other conditions have been recognized and are treated with equal emphasis.

Another development is the creation of a peer workforce within the VA. Often called peer support technicians, veterans are helping veterans with a host of issues. Much to its credit, the VA has moved quickly and aggressively to train a peer workforce and incorporate them into the system. Watching this type of peer support in action is amazing; the power of peer support in the VA is almost palpable.

Using a system of “recovery co-coordinators,” who are responsible for infusing a recovery orientation into the existing system, mental health professionals are learning exciting and effective new ways to approach both old and new mental health issues.

When it comes to the implementation of innovative programs, leadership is vital. Two people stand out: David Carroll, who oversees mental health services for the VA, and Daniel O’Brien-Mazza, who supervises the peer support initiative. These two demonstrate the power of passion in action. Both are passionate about bringing quality mental health services to veterans, and that passion has brought significant results in a relatively short time.

Indeed, the Fort Hood tragedy is a tragedy of the highest magnitude, but it must not overshadow the good work of the mental health system of the VA.


October 27, 2009

Taking care of ourselves is so important. But as the weather begins to cool and the daylight hours shrink, finding convenient recreation opportunities can be a challenge. Creativity, though, can fill the gaps and you may find a new activity that brings you peace even in the most difficult times.

Recently, my good friend Zack (pictured) and I were a bit frustrated because we were both stressed by busy lives. To deal with the stress, we set aside a Sunday afternoon and challenged ourselves to do something entirely different and fun. As we drove through town, we spotted a small lake near the local zoo. The shore was crowded with waterfowl and the notion of spending the afternoon feeding these birds struck us simultaneously.

We made a quick stop at a local grocery store and bought eight loaves of the cheapest bread we could find. Hundreds of birds—geese, ducks, and gulls—saw us coming and quickly surrounded us and begged for food. We ripped the bread bags open and threw small pieces to our hungry new friends. Obviously we were not the first to do so, as the birds mobbed us from all sides.

We discovered that the birds would nip at our fingers if we did not feed them to their satisfaction. The small bites didn’t hurt, and as we sat on a picnic table, a fox squirrel snuck up from behind and grabbed a slice. Our circle of friends had grown!

We had to carefully ration our bread supply, but we managed to stretch our feeding fun to two hours. Zack and I enjoyed watching the birds fight for the tidbits and quack and honk their approval. We wondered if the birds were fattening up for a long migratory flight, or if they were gorging to prepare for a long winter ahead at the lake. We learned that if we threw bread high in the air, the gulls would glide in and grab them in mid-air. We also shared our bread with a few families with small children who wanted to share in the fun.

As we left, we saw the flock head toward a man with a large bag of bread and grain. So much for loyalty!

The lesson we learned that afternoon was that a little creativity and willingness to try something different can pay off. We enjoyed a memorable afternoon and our stress abated. We decided to make a return visit soon.

If the impending winter season means a challenge in finding some fun (and inexpensive) things to do, grab a friend and explore your own neighborhood. Fun may be only a few feet away!



October 13, 2009

The days are getting shorter and that means potential problems for some people. Seasonal affective disorder, with the appropriate acronym “SAD,” is a real malady that affects many people. SAD is a form of depression that appears to be related to the shortened daylight of winter. It even affects people in sunny climates such as California.

I have a friend who used to suffer all winter with this illness. After she learned it may be related to a lack of ultraviolet light, she created a “light box.” She simply took an old cardboard box and placed an ultraviolet light in it. Every day as the sunlight hours shorten, she sticks her head in the box for a few minutes. She says she has not had depression symptoms since beginning this practice. How simple!

My friend’s creativity is a great example of how each of us is unique; different strategies work for different people. Some people find relief by increasing exercise and outdoor activities in the winter while others take a vacation in Florida.

Our recovery journeys are as unique as we are. If I had a recovery formula that applied to everyone, I would be rich. But, unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. We each must find our own wellness paths, and when we encounter barriers and tried and true strategies fail, we must persevere and try new strategies.

The point of this is that we must persevere. We must always be exploring our wellness paths and be open and flexible to new ideas and techniques. This is easy enough to say but when you are in the midst of depression, I know all too well how difficult it can be. We often lack energy to think about creating and trying new strategies. If we know ourselves, though, and keep our minds open to new ideas, we can overcome SAD and other wellness barriers.

What helps me persevere is the support of friends and family. I have told them how to recognize when I am starting to go downhill. I have been honest with them and when they ask, “How are you doing today?” I tell them the truth. Consequently, I have encouragement when I need it most from people who can provide it the best. And I do the same for them.

Obtaining and maintaining wellness can be a team effort. Others who have struggled with mental illnesses (not necessarily depression) can be of great help because they understand the misery symptoms can bring. My thoughts this week, then, are about support. It doesn’t happen by accident. If the shortened days of winter are a potential problem, now is the time to act to create a support network.

Life is full of challenges, but we can use those challenges as learning opportunities to create a fuller life. That reality encouraged me to share this quote from Louisa May Alcott: “I do not fear storms for I am learning to sail a ship.”


September 15, 2009

I recently had a wonderful opportunity to meet mental health professionals and advocates from across the world at the World Mental Health Congress in Athens, Greece. The four-day event was filled with workshops and other presentations that left me hopeful.

Recovery appears to be fully embraced by virtually every country; there were about 100 countries represented at the event. But, too often, this embracement is very recent and other countries are struggling to integrate recovery practices into their mental health systems.

Of key interest are anti-stigma or social inclusion initiatives. These endeavors are designed to help the general public understand the true nature of mental illnesses. This understanding, most believe, would lead to more timely and effective treatment and the inclusion of all with psychiatric disorders into our social fabric.

Another area that received considerable attention at the Congress was prevention of psychiatric disorders. It is obvious that great sums of money would be saved if those most at risk could be identified and provided skills that would avoid problems later.

An underlying theme of the gathering was that people with psychiatric disorders should play an active role in their treatment. This means consumers should be involved in all aspects of treatment planning, and their opinions should be respected and valued. This approach is fundamental to the recovery model and, unfortunately, is where most countries are having the most difficulty.

Mental health professionals agreed strongly—and often loudly—that recovery is based on meaningful relationships. The difficulty is that psychiatrists are generally available to consumers infrequently and for very brief periods of time. What is needed, most said, is more funding so that caseloads can be reduced and doctors have more time to spend getting to know those they serve.

“When I meet with patients,” one psychiatrist told the 400 delegates, “I often have an assistant and family member in the room. But the most important person in the room is always the patient, and we must not forget that.”

Mental health services are facing budget cuts across the globe. With the stresses of financial difficulties added to the burdens of everyday life, it seems now is the time when such services should be increased. How can we go about changing this scenario?

As I gazed across the room and saw a rapt audience enthused about advocacy, I noticed little reference to consumers as partners in advocacy. Our recovery stories are compelling. They demonstrate to policymakers that recovery should be expected. And when we begin our recovery journeys, we become more productive citizens, which means substantial economic benefits.

Perhaps the most important lesson I learned at the Congress was how important it can be if consumers partner with other mental health advocates to change systems and funding. As a good friend always says, “We’re all in this together.”

Consider the following quote from Greek physician and philosopher Hippocrates:
   
“It is more important to know what sort of person has a disease than to know what sort of disease a person has.”

Hippocrates made this statement more than 2,300 years ago, yet it is a lesson we appear to have yet to fully appreciate.

September 1, 2009

I am excited that I will soon attend the World Mental Health Congress in Athens, Greece, where I will spend a week learning about mental health issues and innovations from people throughout the world.

With support from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, I will be exposed to people from many different cultures doing many different things related to mental health. This is important to me; learning from other people is an incredible opportunity, but when you have that opportunity with people from many different cultures, it is amazing.

That is a thought I’d like to share with you: Every person you meet presents a learning opportunity. When we engage in conversation with others—especially those who are different than ourselves—we have the opportunity to broaden our horizons by experiencing a different perspective. I don’t have to agree with every person I meet. In fact, I hope I don’t, because different opinions are important.

A friend and I once disagreed about a person’s right to be free from mandatory treatment for mental illnesses. I was strongly on one side and he on the other. We engaged in a very long conversation one day and it seemed neither of us would budge on our opinions. But, over several weeks, I thought about his perspective and he did the same about mine. Remarkably, we eventually found a middle ground.

This friend and I rarely agree completely on mental health treatment issues, but finding common ground on mandatory treatment was not just surprising, it was a revelation for me. Had I not taken the time to listen—really listen—I might not have considered his opinion and perspective. Once I did, however, I was able to move from one end of the spectrum to the middle. And it was the same for him.

Did we have to eventually agree? No. We both respect each other’s perspectives and opinions, so I’m certain we would have remained friends. But in listening to each other, we have formed a new bond based on respect. It is exciting, indeed, to look at him now and know we can disagree but at the same time listen to each other and learn.

So it will be for the rest of my life, I hope. I have learned to respect others’ opinions and carefully consider their ideas. It has very often changed my own views.

While I am in Athens, I will be seeking out the most unusual people to talk to them about what matters most in their lives. I will return with a head full of new ideas. I expect you will be hearing about some of those ideas in this blog and perhaps in future issues of Anchor.

What does this have to do with depression? When we are in the midst of depression—or any mental illness for that matter—we tend to dwell within ourselves. We often isolate ourselves and shut out the world beyond our comfort zones. But if we muster the courage and energy to reach out, we can become absorbed in learning. In that learning process, we can find hope and encouragement to begin or continue our recovery journeys.

I find great inspiration in others. I hope you, too, will reach out and discover the wealth of learning opportunities found in others. It could change your life; itt has mine.


August 4, 2009

I was sitting in a small, private room with a young man who was obviously distraught. He seemed nervous as his eyes constantly scanned the room—and me. His right wrist was freshly bandaged and he talked rapidly.
   
“I got kicked out of therapy because I couldn’t afford it,” he said. “It was really helping me but they said I had to leave because I didn’t have insurance to pay for it.”
   
The young man went on to explain how he spent the rest of the previous day seeking help from a variety of agencies. “I know I have problems. I know I need help. But where can I go?”
   
I handed him a book and some DVDs and described some coping skills that have worked for others with anxiety and depression. I asked him to call me the next morning so we could visit a drop-in center. I also shared phone numbers of peer supporters and he promised to call if he needed support that night. He smiled and said he was once again hopeful his life would change for the better.
   
When I didn’t hear from him the next morning, I called. His brother shared the news that the young man had tried to hurt himself again the previous night. He was in a psychiatric hospital.
   
“At least,” I thought, “he was getting the medications and therapy he so desperately sought.” But, I also thought about the pain and unnecessary expense. What if he had the insurance and access to services he found so helpful? How much money could have been saved had he been able to avoid a hospitalization? How much physical and mental pain and agony could have been avoided?
   
As state budgets shrink, services for mental health treatment are on the cutting block. At a time when people are experiencing more stress and depression in their lives due to economic challenges, they are finding mental health services less available. Legislators too often find it easiest to cut mental health services. The stigmas associated with mental illnesses make budget cuts less controversial.
   
The reality, though, is that limiting access to mental health services is a short-term “fix” to long-term problems. Limiting access ultimately results in more expensive treatment, loss of productivity, and untold agony. For some, limited access is a death sentence.
   
I shared my frustration with a friend who optimistically said that perhaps matters would become so bad it would be a “wake up call” for legislators. Yes. Maybe. But what does that say about our society when our most vulnerable suffer needlessly and end up costing us taxpayers so much more before we act with compassion and understanding?
   
So, dear readers, I am frustrated, hurt, and angry. But I am dedicated to turning those negatives into positive actions. I am working with our state NAMI to make the economic case for broadening access to services. We have legions of people willing to testify about the personal hardships, but those personal accounts have fallen on deaf ears. However, if we make the case based on economics perhaps we can persuade legislators to reconsider poorly devised schemes to save money.
   
Nearly every day I encounter people like the young man I described, yet I remain hopeful. If we do not have hope that things can and will change, nothing will be accomplished. Instead of advocacy for those of us with psychiatric disorders, we will find ourselves saddled with silence and deeper and deeper budget cuts. Without hope, access to services will continue to diminish.
   
I hope you, too, will consider the effects of budget cuts on mental health services; if not the human suffering then the economic costs. I hope you will join your local mental health advocacy group to educate policymakers about the importance of mental health services; especially in these difficult times.
   
It’s all about hope and when I think about hope, I think about Vincent Van Gogh who, while residing in an asylum, painted iris blossoms. For many, iris flowers have become a symbol of hope and a reminder that even in the darkest of times we can find beauty.
   
Late one recent night, I went to my backyard garden and took the accompanying photo of an iris blossom. The light from a carefully aimed flash made the colors “pop” and it is one of my favorite images not only because of its beauty but because of the hope it represents.


July 20, 2009

Whenever we are struggling with the challenges of a mental illness—and perhaps especially depression—we must remember that we are much more than our diagnoses. We are not simply a label but people with many skills, gifts, knowledge, and interests.
   
It is very easy, however, to forget the rest of ourselves. But these other aspects of our lives can play a vital role in our recovery journeys.
   
For me, getting back in touch with my interest in teaching others about nature brought me out of a five-year stint on a sofa where I wallowed in hopelessness. Looking at ourselves as whole people can also help us deal with the stresses of everyday life and keep us both physically and mentally on track.
   
In recent years, my schedule has been extremely busy and involves much travel. While many may see frequent jetting across the continent as glamorous or exciting, the luster soon wears off. Regardless of how much I enjoy my work, airports and hotel rooms soon become too familiar and the stress of work and travel can quickly become overwhelming.
   
In danger of burning out, I sought a release; a way of coping with the stress travel and work brought. As before, I looked back in my past to find something I enjoyed. I found photography! Now, my friends, you know why my blogs are often illustrated with photos.
   
I was once a professional photographer. But taking pictures for newspapers and magazines and at weddings were work. I much preferred taking pictures of landscapes and nature. It wasn’t long before I moved to a different career and virtually abandoned my photographic endeavors.
   
But when I looked back at what I once enjoyed, photography emerged. Recently, however, it almost got me arrested!
   
Frequent travel to Washington, DC, often left me exhausted. Meetings, seminars, and conferences are important and interesting, but many hours of sitting and intense concentration took their toll. But I learned to carry my camera and one evening I went to the National Mall to take night pictures of the monuments and memorials.
   
It took me two hours to set up a shot at the Vietnam Memorial. But I knew a 30-second exposure of the wall with engraved names in the foreground and the Washington Monument in the background would produce an unusual—and hopefully memorable—image.
   
After extensive preparation, which included setting up a tripod, I took my picture. As an experienced photographer, however, I knew multiple shots at different exposures would likely result in an even better shot so I prepared to take another. Just then, a police officer tapped me on the shoulder.
   
“Tripods aren’t allowed in the memorials,” he said. “It is against the law and you’ll have to remove it.”
   
The officer was polite and we engaged in a pleasant conversation as I dismantled the tripod. “I had my shot,” I thought, “so it wasn’t such an inconvenience. Besides, I have a story to go along with the illegal photo.”
   
I’m sharing that photo with this blog. It is a risk disclosing all this information. After all, I may hear a knock on the door and be led away in handcuffs! But I’m willing to take that chance.
   
The point is this: it is important to take care of ourselves and find ways to enjoy life by looking beyond our illnesses. I’ve found it useful to examine my “pre-illness” life to explore enjoyable activities. Perhaps it would help you, too.


June 22, 2009

I was attending a Michigan anti-stigma task force meeting recently, which was co-chaired by the state’s mental health director. During introductions, Mike Head disclosed, with some detail, that he had a serious and lengthy struggle with depression.

I have had the pleasure of knowing Mike for about five years. He has always been outgoing and friendly. But after he disclosed his personal experience with a mental illness, I saw him with new eyes.

When Mike talked about his experience—including the losses depression brought—he did so with great ease; almost casually. But his demeanor belied the courage it took to make such a disclosure. After all, Mike is the director of a large mental health system. I’ve have seen an increasing number of mental health professionals “come out of the closet” so to speak, but a director?

The remainder of the meeting is a blur because I was preoccupied with the impact of Mike’s disclosure. With a few sentences, he blasted stigma among our small group.

The reality is, as statistics show, at least ten other state mental health directors have had a personal mental health experience. But no others I am aware of have had the courage to disclose that experience publicly.

Indeed, Mike is in good company. My son, who also has a psychiatric diagnosis, calls it “the club.” Fred Frese, former director of Ohio’s largest psychiatric facility and Dan Fisher, a psychiatrist and head of the National Empowerment Center, have long been open about their mental health struggles. But what makes Mike’s disclosure so important is that he has made it okay for other mental health professionals to be honest and open.

So many people are “club members” but so few are willing to say so. The labels and behaviors society assigns to us are incredibly unfair and inaccurate. But stigma is about more than educating others. I don’t want to be accepted or tolerated. I want to be embraced by society for the skills and lessons I’ve learned through my mental health challenges.

The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) has dropped the word “stigma” from its lexicon. Now, that agency is striving for “social inclusion,” which encompasses employment, housing, education, recreation, transportation and other facets that mean true integration in society. In this way, social inclusion shifts us to a civil rights movement, which is really what we need.

Mike has inspired me and reignited my advocacy flame. I hope to emulate his courage, compassion and passion for change. His actions remind me of a favorite quote: It costs a candle nothing to light another candle.

Thanks, Mike!



Photo by Steve Harrington (poster available through RecoverResources.com)


May 11, 2009

I was heading home after two solid weeks at meetings and conferences across the country. In my seat in the back of the plane, I could feel anxiety build as I thought about the work waiting for me. But I could also feel bit of excitement with my reunion with my dog, Little Bear.
   
Just as the plane touched the runway, I felt something else—a scratchy throat. I tried to shrug it off but I knew it was the precursor to a full-blown cold; a souvenir of my travels. After eight days in bed, I finally went to a doctor who pronounced “pneumonia.”
   
Today, as I lie in bed waiting for the antibiotics to do their work, I am enjoying a nice, sunny day through a window. I would much rather be teaching a recovery class or playing with Little Bear in the yard. Ah! Life seems to remind us that we must take care of ourselves before we can help others.
   
Yes, dear readers, I’ve written before about how we must sometimes put our own mental health first. But, sometimes, even the prophet forgets the message, regardless of its importance.
   
I have a plan for self care. I keep it in my pocket, but I never read the plan after creating it. What good is a plan if you don’t act on it? Why, no good at all.
   
Now, I have an action plan to act on the self-care plan. I will follow my doctor’s orders and stay in bed a few more days until I am feeling better. Then, bit by bit, I will spend more time each day working. By the end of my recuperation, I will still have a significant amount of recreation time carved out for myself. Little Bear will be happy with that, too.
   
I would like to continue blogging about the value of creating meaningful plans and actually acting on them but, Little Bear, wants me to throw his ball…

April 13, 2009

For five years, I sat on a sofa and sobbed uncontrollably. I felt my life was over and that I would never regain meaning for living.

Because of the debilitating effects of major depression, I had moved my son and myself to my parents’ home. They grew increasingly concerned and often encouraged me—in a pleasant way—to get out and do something. My teenage son sometimes offered encouragement and, at other times, became frustrated with a father who was virtually absent from his life.

They were desperate. They could see my life slipping away. I, too, was desperate to feel better and find hope.

One day, when the timing seemed right, my parents came to me with an observation and suggestion.

“You aren’t getting better,” my father said. “You’ve been sick for a long time.”

“Maybe you should go to the mental health center and find out what they can do for you,” my mother chimed.

I was reluctant to re-enter the mental health system. A psychiatrist had told me my life would be filled with misery. He stole my hope with a stern lecture about accepting that I would never again hold a job, have a house, or own a car. He even suggested I would have to live in a foster care home where I would live out my remaining days.

But I took my parents’ advice and drove myself for an evaluation. I was assigned to a case manager and struggled for about nine months before I started to find and nurture hope. Only a few years later, I had proven the psychiatrist wrong. I had accomplished all of the life goals he said were beyond my reach.

The key to the start of my recovery journey was family support. Their patience, willingness to listen without judgment, optimistic outlook, and encouragement eventually led me to a life filled with high expectations, adventure, excitement and, most of all, meaning. For their support, I will be always grateful.

Years later, my son was diagnosed with a psychiatric condition. From my own experience, I knew what to do. I offered the same type of support that led me to my recovery journey.

Today, my son has graduated from recovery-oriented classes and is taking more. He hopes to join his father on the crusade to bring mental health to everyone. I couldn’t be filled with more admiration and pride.

Shortly before my father died a little more than a year ago, he told a friend about how proud he was of my public speaking. He told the friend about the challenges I faced…how I had not only overcome those challenges but had found opportunities as well.

These days, my mother is often frustrated because the phone rings constantly and I had to buy a larger mailbox to accommodate the bundles of letters that arrive each day. But her frustration is soothed when callers take a moment to tell her I have helped them in some way. Then, she cannot hide her pride and is quick to share with neighbors and friends the kind comments others make.

Support has come full circle. I was a primary caretaker for many months before my father died. For my mother, I help with lawn care and home repairs. I am there when she needs a ride to some unfamiliar place or a hug when she grieves the loss of a 62-year relationship with my father.

“We are in this together,” my mother, son, and siblings often say. And it is true. Our lives are forever intertwined. Recognizing the need for support and then providing that support are important not just for families but for our society as well.

I have been blessed with a great family. But I know far too many who do not have the support I have enjoyed.

Perhaps the blog this week is not so much for those of us with depression challenges as it is for their families. To them, I preach patience, understanding, and persistence. To them, I wish to say, “I understand your frustration and concern.” But I also want to say, “You can be a powerful force in your loved ones’ lives. I know it isn’t easy but hang in there with encouragement and inspiration. All our lives can be better!”

Steve Harrington, the author of The Depression Handbook, will be speaking on depression and the role family members can play in helping loved ones recover on July 7, 2009 at the Hotel Whitcomb in San Francisco, CA.


March 30, 2009

Having just returned from an intensive conference on trauma-informed care, the issue is heavy on my mind. One of the presentations focused on research that showed a powerful link between childhood and depression as well as other mental and physical health problems. The study also revealed that as many as two-thirds of all people experience trauma in their lives.

It was difficult to define trauma, as it can take many forms. To keep things simple, I define it as anything that impedes or destroys one’s hope. It can be the result of a serious event or even a conversation.

I was most interested in re-traumatization that too-often occurs in psychiatric hospitals and agencies. A lack of compassion and understanding by staff can lead to great trauma. I speak from experience. During my first hospitalization, a psychiatrist flatly told me I would never recover and that my life would be miserable. My hope was devastated and I spent the following five years sobbing on a sofa.

While there are a great many clinicians who are sensitive to client trauma, too many are not. It is another challenge we face as mental health systems strive to transform to recovery-based services. Fortunately, we have wonderful people—such as Cmdr. Wanda Finch of the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) and the fantastic people at Witness Justice and the National Center for Trauma Informed Care—working hard to educate others.

One way to reduce trauma in psychiatric hospitals is through psychiatric advance directives. These legal documents are recognized almost everywhere and allow people who experience setbacks to guide their treatment. The advance directive allows a person to communicate his or her needs and desires at a time when a focused conversation may not be possible. An advance directive is created when a person is feeling well. It can reduce hospitalization time and bring great peace of mind.

I’ve seen psychiatric advance directives work and work well. I have one and encourage you to create one as well. If you’d like more information about advance directives, feel free to contact me at: steve@RecoverResources.com.

If you would like more information about trauma informed care, visit the free website www.trainingforums.org.

Yes, we have many challenges, but we also have many wonderful people who are working to overcome them. The key is to be informed and there are great ways to learn. Mental health conferences are offered almost everywhere and publications such as Anchor: Conquering Depression and Schizophrenia Digest are great information sources. And don’t be afraid to become involved. Remember: We are all in this together!

Here is a quote from Ernest Hemingway you may find inspiring—I did.



March 17, 2009

“Leave me alone! I’m not going out today.”
   
How many of us with depression have said those words? I have—almost non-stop—for five years. Isolation is a reality for many of us with the depression experience. And while there can be benefits in isolation (it gives us an opportunity to think), it is often taken too far.
   
Depression often robs us of energy. It is a mood disorder, after all, and we often just aren’t in the mood for anyone or anything. Where does that leave us? For me, it meant a sink and counter full of dirty dishes, junk food (and subsequent weight gain), and an unkempt appearance due to lack of showering and shaving.
   
Whew! I admit it. I was a mess. What is a person to do?
   
Fortunately, I won the parent lottery. My father and mother allowed my son and me to return to their home where they offered subtle encouragement and hope. Yes, it took years, but eventually I was able to look beyond what was and instead look at what could be. That was the beginning of my recovery journey.
   
These depression effects were recently brought to my attention when I was asked to help a friend. She had been in poor health for some time and was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer. Her daughter asked if I would help clean her home. My brother and mother (two more charitable souls have never lived) asked to join me in my endeavor to help.
   
While my brother and I tackled piles of soiled clothing and stacks of old newspapers in the living room, my mother rolled up her sleeves in the kitchen. The stove was caked with old, moldy food of all sorts (and eras), the refrigerator was moldy and smelly, the floor was grimy and sticky, and the counters were jammed with dirty dishes and clutter.
   
My mother stood in the middle of the mess and gazed about for a minute. “This,” she announced, “is depression!”
   
She was correct. She reminded me of my poor habits while I was in severe depression and recounted how I lacked the energy to do virtually anything but change channels on the television. Yes. It was not just a mess. It was depression in action! Or inaction. Take your pick.
   
It took most of a day but the three of us were able to transform my friend’s home into a comfortable living area once again. When she returned home from the hospital, my friend was grateful to return to a welcoming environment that did not remind her of health problems.
   
That night, we all collapsed from exhaustion. As my mind wandered between sleep and wakefulness, I realized how much I learned.
   
I learned that depression can feed upon itself. It can be a cycle where lack of energy leads to an uncomfortable environment that leads to more depression. I also learned that support from understanding friends—who do not judge—can be the best medicine and provide hope and encouragement.
   
Perhaps the most important lesson was the value of reaching out and asking for help. Too often, we are reluctant to ask due to shame, fear of dependence, or other factors. Reaching out can be helpful not only for the person with depression, but for those who are asked to help as well. It was gratifying, indeed, to be asked for support and then feel a sense of accomplishment.
   
So, where am I going with these observations? I’m not certain but let’s review the lessons. First, isolation and lack of energy are predictable symptoms of depression. Second, those symptoms can result in an uncomfortable—even unsanitary—environment and appearance. Third, asking for support can change these circumstances and help us regain hope. Gosh. That seems pretty profound considering I was just relating some recent observations.
   
In the future, I think I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for more life lessons. Do you have any such lessons you’d like to share? If so, I’d like to hear about them. Feel free to contact me at: steve@RecoverResources.com.
   
Consider the following quote from Helen Keller. It seems especially relevant to me these days and perhaps it will be meaningful for you as well:




March 2, 2009

A close friend is about to adopt a cat. That may not seem like big news to most, but for him it is a source of great anticipation and excitement.

My buddy is having a mild depression relapse, and thinking and talking about the new pet is an anchor for him. He loves animals. I know the cat will be a great addition to his life—I know so many people who find solace with their pets. After all, a dog’s wagging tail or a cat’s purr is enough to help anyone emerge from the depression darkness…at least a little.

In my own life, I know how important my dog has been to my mental health. Little Bear is a spoiled brat. There is no question or debate about that. He will do whatever it takes for a pat on the head, scratch behind the ears, or rub on the belly. One afternoon, I petted Little Bear as long as I could just to see if he would ever be satisfied. I gave up after 45 minutes of constant petting. And when I stopped, he wanted more!

Helpful pets are not limited to dogs and cats. I know one person who finds great joy and comfort in caring for a turtle—the only pet he can have in his apartment complex. Others enjoy birds, lizards, gerbils, and even snakes (…aagh! Don’t get me started on that!).

The point is that animals can bring us joy and comfort at the times we need them most. If having a pet is not possible, there are other ways to connect with creatures. There are zoos, aquariums, parks where people walk their dogs, and animal shelters where volunteers are welcome to walk and care for homeless animals.

A neighbor or friend may have a pet you can visit. One friend loves to just look at pictures of animals (there is a multitude of nature videos and DVDs available).

Sometimes animals provide only a temporary distraction from depression symptoms. But speaking from experience, even that temporary distraction can be a welcome relief.

Do you have an animal that helps you get through the tough times? If so, I’d like to hear about it.  I can be reached at: steve@RecoverResources.com

February 16, 2009

In a past issue of Schizophrenia Digest [now called SZ Magazine], I found a brief but very interesting, article about the role of touch in communication.

In that article, scientists reported that touching another person can produce a hormone called oxytocin. Oxytocin is a chemical found in all our bodies; the synthetic form of the hormone is sometimes used to aid women with childbirth.

Oxytocin is linked to bonding between people and, according to a recent scientific journal article, can reduce stress. Another article indirectly supported the notion that touching can have positive mental health effects as it reported that persons who identified themselves as “affectionate,” are much less likely to have mental health issues.

Also recently, social scientists are borrowing a term from behavioral scientists studying rat behavior. Rats are described as “thigmophilic” because they rely on touch to orient themselves in their environments. Some social scientists refer to some people as having “thigmophilia” because they are “touch loving.”

Unfortunately, in contemporary society we generally avoid touching others. We are often concerned about whether a hug will be misinterpreted or if a pat on the shoulder will bring a sexual harassment lawsuit. Instead, we minimize physical contact with others and, in so doing, we deprive ourselves—and others—of opportunities to relieve stress and communicate caring and compassion.

Certainly, we must be appropriate in our touching…some people are uncomfortable with even casual touching. But we can ask if it is okay to hug someone. Or, perhaps we should wear badges or t-shirts that say, “Go ahead. Make my day. Hug me!”

I only have to think back about nine months when I was struggling to deal with my own depression relapse. I isolated myself for about two weeks and tried to avoid EVERYONE. But, when I recognized what I was doing, I forced myself to get out and interact with others. My depression soon lifted.

I am certainly not alone when it comes to isolating myself during depression. But that may be exactly the wrong thing to do. Instead, if we reach out to others and invite appropriate physical contact, those oxytocin hormones may kick in and help us deal with depression.

Do you have any thoughts or comments to share about the value of touch? I’d love to hear them. I can be contacted at: Steve@RecoverResources.com In the meantime, consider the following quote from an unknown author:



February 2, 2009

A most enthusiastic friend, Rob Grimes, and I were talking recently about the benefits of having a mental illness. Yes, you read correctly—benefits.

Don’t get me wrong, I know full well how painful and devastating mental illnesses are. But once we embark on our recovery journeys, there are benefits.
   
Many people say they want to be “normal” again. We talked about what that means. Does it mean being like everyone else? Who wants that? Neither Rob, nor I. We don’t want to sacrifice our individuality and the lessons we’ve learned through the adversities of mental illnesses.
   
So, what ARE the benefits? It can be different for each person. For me, one of the biggest benefits is self-awareness. I have come to understand who I am and, more importantly, who I can be. My experiences with mental illnesses caused much self-examination and I discovered gifts, talents, and strengths I never imagined. Today, my life is more meaningful—and satisfying—than it has ever been as I continue to explore how I can use those hidden gifts.
   
Most people, especially the “chronically normal,” never engage in that type of self-examination. They often live a day-to-day existence where today is like yesterday and tomorrow will be like the day before. Each day is a wonderful adventure of self-discovery and exploration and my only regret is that there are not more hours in a day.
   
Many of us who have grown through having a mental illness are more compassionate and empathetic. We are more patient with those who are struggling because we understand how life’s challenges can be overwhelming. Recently, while driving on a busy highway, I saw a woman become very angry with another driver who cut her off with an abrupt lane change. She shook her fist at the offending driver and I’m pretty sure I’m glad I couldn’t hear her colorful language. My first thought about this woman was not about her anger toward the other driver, but what else was going on in her life that would cause this extreme reaction. Indeed, I thought her life must be unhappy. How sad, I thought, that she lacks the ability to be compassionate and understanding. How sad it must be to go through life without a positive frame of mind. My mental illnesses have taught me that a minor traffic inconvenience is “minor” and that my life is too full to be concerned about such a small and temporary distraction.
   
“You know,” Rob said, “we should really start a campaign called ‘MI Pride.’ We could show the world that having a mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of. It is really something we can be proud of if we use it to enhance our lives.”
   
MI Pride? I think Rob is on to something here. I can envision buttons and bumper stickers. The message is not dissimilar from those “My child is an honor student” bumper stickers. MI Pride means “Mental illness has made me a better person.”
   
Am I overstating my case? Is my belief about benefits of having a mental illness unrealistic? I don’t think so. A great many people have used their mental health experiences to create positive, meaningful lives. I think of Robin Williams, Buzz Aldrin, Ted Turner and a host of others. And if we look in our past, the list includes Abraham Lincoln and Winston Churchill.
   
Yes, mental illnesses are painful and often devastating. But there is a light that draws us toward recovery and a better life. MI Pride? Hmmm. It works for me!


January 5, 2009

“What is recovery, anyway?”

That recent question from a friend led to considerable thought and a lengthy discussion. We often talk about recovery, but so many of us are unsure as to what it really means.

For me, recovery is a life-long learning process that leads to an increasingly meaningful life. Notice, I started that sentence with “for me.” Recovery is unique to each person. Get a group of 20 people together and you’re likely to come up with 20 different definitions. And those definitions may change over time.

Is that “bad?” I don’t think so. Each person has a set of experiences that result in values and, subsequently, goals. Individual definitions realistically accommodate the uniqueness of each person, however some people find them too vague. Some people want—even need—firm definitions. Sorry. I don’t think that will ever happen.

Early in the recovery journey, we must each decide for ourselves what recovery means. Some argue that recovery means going back to where you once were and, because we cannot ever return to where we once were, recovery doesn’t really exist. While there may be some validity to that argument in some circles, the common meaning of recovery usually does not mean going back to exactly where you were.

Others have asked me, “How do you know when you are ‘recovered?’”

I hope I NEVER recover. I hope each day of the rest of my life is filled with learning experiences that help me lead a better life. I hope each day provides lessons that will help me be a better person.

How does a person learn those lessons? That, too, is unique for each person. Reading, listening to music, and watching the world around me are all important components in my learning process. But other people are perhaps the most important learning component.

When I listen to other people’s ideas and opinions, I learn. I am often less concerned about what they say and, instead, focus on WHY they say what they do. I wonder what experiences they’ve had that have formed ideas and opinions. Sometimes, I ask very blunt questions to find those answers.

Socializing is vital to learning about ourselves. But we must also recognize the importance of introspection. If we spend all our time with others, we have little time to think about what we learn and how it applies to us.

Of course it is possible to take isolation too far, especially if we are struggling with depression. Isolation allows us to stay in a “safe harbor” where we are assured a measure of control over our lives. But if we use time alone to think about our lives, it can be very healthy.

The recovery journey, like life, is about balance. Too much of one thing and too little of another is not healthy in any context. The point is time alone CAN be healthy if we are using it to learn about ourselves and others. Time by ourselves can yield tremendous benefits if we have the courage to deal honestly with our thoughts and feelings.

So, what is recovery? It is what we believe it to be. It can be well-defined or vague. It can be dynamic. But we all can improve our lives. It is both challenging and exciting.

Do you have a definition of recovery you’d like to share with others? I’d love to hear it. Feel free to e-mail me at: Steve@RecoverResources.com

While you’re thinking about your recovery definition, consider the following quote from an unknown source I’ve found most helpful in my journey:

“Sometimes it is best to walk the quiet trail with others and sometimes it is best to walk alone.”

Happy New Year!


December 22, 2008

Winter is here! With shorter days, cloudy skies, and in northern regions snow, we face an annual challenge to our mental wellness. I was surprised to learn that these seasonal changes affect even those living in traditionally sunny climates such as California. When winter comes many of us retreat to the comfort of our homes, but in so doing, we become isolated and risk depression. Oh, what to do?

We could succumb to the season and resign ourselves to mental misery or we could embrace winter as a challenge with opportunities. What opportunities? We are limited only by our imaginations!

One recent evening, I noticed snow was collecting on spruce tree branches in my front yard. I gazed at the wonder of nature. It was as though nature was celebrating the holidays early by decorating trees. I grabbed my camera and started taking pictures in the dark. My first shots were looking at branches from above or from the side. Then I looked from underneath and saw a new perspective. From beneath, the spruce needles and branches were contrasted by the snow. I snapped a dozen pictures from below. So it is, I thought, with our winter lives.

We can live with the same perspective of doom-and-gloom until the robins bring us hope with their spring songs or we can look high and low for opportunities. Finding new hobbies or resuming old ones are ways to explore opportunities. For me, it has rekindled an interest in photography. There are a great many other hobbies to explore. Visit a craft or hobby store and you’ll see what I mean. Painting, decorating, crafts, calligraphy and furniture refinishing are just a few of a host of hobbies that can keep you active and your mind engage. And when you are active and engaged, you are less susceptible to depression.

I prefer hobbies I can share with others. I love to share the photos I take (which is why I like to include them in this blog). I’m not a professional by any means, but it is fun. While I like to take pictures of landscapes and nature, I’ve also learned to be creative indoors.

Late one night I spent two hours on the floor of my living room trying to capture an unusual photo for a friend. She loves the word “hope” and I wanted to surprise her with a photo for Christmas. I tried idea after idea, but wasn’t satisfied with the results. Out of desperation, I tried using a reflective surface and turned all the lights in the room off.

The result was startling. Surrounded by darkness, I captured a carved painted figure of the word reflecting brilliance. The photo was loaded with symbolism: Even when we are surrounded by darkness, hope can shine and illuminate our way. Wow! I did that?
I can’t wait to share this photo with my friend. Certainly it will brighten her day—and mine.

Yes, winter is here. But we don’t have to let it get us down. We can, instead, turn it into an opportunity for exploration and personal growth.

Do you have a favorite winter activity that helps you avoid the blues? I’d love to hear about it and perhaps share it with others. I can be reached at steve@RecoverResources.com

While you are contemplating opportunities this winter, consider the following anonymous quote:



December 8, 2008

I have so many wonderful friends and I learn so much from them. One friend, Helen Hillman, touches the hearts of a great many people with her innate kindness and compassion. But Helen has a long history of major depression.

One way Helen has learned to deal with depression is by naming it. After all, if there is an elephant in the room often the best way to handle it is with an introduction. In Helen’s case, negative thoughts threaten to drive her back into that black hole so many of us know so well. She calls those often powerful thoughts “Big Helen.”

By naming the negativity in her life, Helen has learned to recognize that she does not have to be susceptible to it. Instead, she can talk to Big Helen and cast it out of her mind and life. That is when “Little Tess” takes over.

Helen says Little Tess was a meek person that once succumbed to Big Helen. But through much practice, Little Tess has emerged as a strong, positive part of her personality. Helen nurtures Little Tess and it usually isn’t long before Big Helen is put aside and Little Tess guides Helen to positive, creative thoughts that feed her soul and keep her out of the black hole.

The recovery journey is different for each person. Our paths often lead in varying directions. But coping skills used by one person may be helpful for another. Until I talked with Helen about her coping skills, I never dreamed of actually naming the negativity associated with depression. She is very clever and I felt compelled to share her strategy.

Already, one friend of mine has taken this personification to a different level. He has a presentation where he relates his story of devastation of psychiatric disorders and just when he gets to the most serious and sad part of his story, he spots “Depression Guy” lurking in the audience.

Depression Guy is dressed in black clothing with a large “DG” emblazoned on his chest. My friend draws attention to Depression Guy and shouts, “There is my arch enemy Depression Guy. He is here to try to take us into the black hole of depression,” he says. “This is a job for RECOVERY MAN!”

With that, he pulls away his shirt and slacks to reveal a brightly costumed superhero with a large “R” on his chest. Using a barrage of silly string and shouting “I’ll fight you with my coping skills! Take a little meditation, Depression Guy. Take support from friends and family, Depression Guy!”

Depression Guy, covered with silly string, retreats out of the room and my friend continues his presentation with an explanation of how meditation and support can be powerful tools to fight depression. But it doesn’t end there.

After a few minutes, another costumed villain, “Anxiety Dude,” enters the room in a red outfit with lightning bolts. Again, my friend announces with much enthusiasm, “This is another job for Recovery Man!”

Again, my friend uses silly string and phrases such as: “Take a little exercise, Anxiety Dude. Take a healthy diet and good sleep habits!”
Anxiety Dude retreats and my friend explains how anxiety often accompanies depression and how a variety of other coping skills can help fight it. These scenes are repeated with “Hallucination Boy” and “Worry Wart.” Coping skills used to fight these villains include hobbies, music, funny movies, and reading. The cast of villains continues to grow as does the arsenal of “weapons” to fight them.

At the end of his presentation, the villains—and sometimes some of the hysterical audience—are covered with harmless silly string and everyone gets the point: Yes, we have a number of demons to fight with depression but we also have an array of coping skills to help us build a positive, healthy outlook. What started out as a sad story about depression quickly becomes a memorable experience audiences enjoy and from which they gain valuable information about coping skills and their value.

All this grew out of Helen’s sharing her own, very personal coping strategy. I wish I had thought of it myself!

Depression is a serious illness. There is no doubt about that. It robs us of so much and causes so much pain. But, if we are creative, we can have fun experimenting with new coping strategies and sharing them with others.

Do you have any coping skills you’ve found particularly helpful? If so, I’d love to hear about them and perhaps share them with other readers of this blog. I can be reached at: Steve@RecoverResources.com
Consider the following quote I found especially inspiring this week:



November 10, 2008

Soon after you find your seat on an airplane, flight attendants run through a list of safety precautions. They are required to do so before each flight and, for the attendants, it is a horribly routine part of the job—repeated so often that passengers rarely pay attention.

But there is one part of the safety measures that has relevance for our lives. “If the cabin pressure should fall, a mask will fall from above you. Place the mask over your nose and mouth. Do this for yourself before you attempt to help others around you,” they say.

The message here is clear: You must help yourself before you can help others. Too often, we forget this simple, yet vital, advice. Those of us with psychiatric disorders must constantly assess our own well being. Failure to do so can be disastrous, not only for ourselves, but also for those around us.

Taking care of ourselves often means taking time to have fun. Each person has his or her own sense of enjoyment—sometimes we lose touch with our understanding of what we enjoy. Sometimes, we are so filled with guilt about having a psychiatric disorder we believe we are not “entitled” to a good time. If we are unable to work, we may wonder what others may think if we use part of our meager incomes to go to a movie.

But if we are to attain and maintain mental wellness, taking time for ourselves is crucial.

My schedule is often frantic. I typically wake at 6:30 a.m.; by 6:45 I’m on the computer handling e-mails. My first break usually comes at 2:00 p.m. when I realize I am hungry because I have neglected both breakfast and lunch. After I throw a burger down my gullet, I resume my energetic pace until 11:00 p.m. or later and I finally collapse from exhaustion.

This is a poor lifestyle and I have paid the price with depression in the past. Since my last relapse ended in May, however, I’ve made a point to spend part of each day in a joyful activity. That may mean watching a favorite television program, taking a walk, or talking with friends.

Each week, I treat myself with a full evening of enjoyment. A small (but growing) group of friends gather at my home for “video night.” It started out as a “movie night” and we would meet at a local theater to watch the latest thriller, adventure, or comedy film. But theaters cost money and, after the film, we quickly dispersed.

As our friendships grew, however, we discovered we all had favorite DVDs at home we wanted to share. Now, we use a projector on a blank wall, a theater-like sound system, make microwave popcorn, and try to watch two movies during our video night. And, instead of dispersing quickly after the films, we talk.

We talk about cars, women we loved (and those we didn’t), dreams for our lives, and plans for our futures. We joke about our stays in psychiatric hospitals and wild antics while manic. We even joke about past hallucinations and delusions.

One of our group came armed with cans of silly string—an aerosol can of goo that quickly dries to create a colorful string. He surprised us with an ambush and took full advantage of the fact he was the only one so armed.

Ours is an all-male group. That leaves us with the freedom to burp freely (often with the admiration of others in the group). And at the end of each night, after we’ve enjoyed each others’ company and perhaps shared very personal parts of our pasts, we do a very “unmanly” thing. We all hug goodbye.

The important point is that to take care of ourselves, we must sometimes make time to have fun—even silly fun. Laughing with each other and at each other is a great stress reliever and brings us closer together. Each person knows that should he need peer support for a psychiatric issue, he can call on the others in our video night group. All that silliness has a serious point!

Do you have a way to care for yourself? I’d like to hear it and perhaps share it with other readers of this blog. I can be reached at: Steve@RecoverResources.com

Consider the following quote:
Humor enables one to live in the midst of tragic events without becoming a tragic figure.
—T. “Cy” Eberhart


October 27, 2008

Few people like to ride with me. I am always getting lost. I have an extensive collection of maps, but even the best of them befuddle me and I end up taking wrong turn after wrong turn.

For many people, this is frustrating. But my little brother, Zack, is a good traveling companion. He has long known my proclivity for errant navigation, but instead of providing directions from the passenger seat he usually falls asleep. When he wakes, we are usually in some small town far away from our intended route.

There are two responses at our disposal. One is panic and the other is embracing an adventure. We ALWAYS choose the latter. In our travels, we have petted horses that come to their fences to greet us and met helpful people who take pity on us and try to direct us to a highway. One time, found ourselves among floats in a Fourth of July parade!


We have learned that it may take twice as long for us to reach our destinations but our adventures have been well worth the inconvenience. There are also other benefits: Laughter at our predicaments, scenic views other motorists miss, and true enjoyment of each others’ company.

Those of us who have dwelt in the blackness of depression know full well the devastation, loss, and challenges it can bring. But an adventurous learning attitude about life’s frustrations can help us emerge from the darkness. At the same time, a positive, humorous approach to life often makes life more rewarding not only for us, but for those around us.

It isn’t easy. I know that. But a positive attitude can emerge with one small step at a time. Set a goal of finding something humorous or new to learn each day. If you can laugh at yourself; all the better. If you can’t, pick up a comic book or read the newspaper funnies for a smile.

To learn something new each day, just look in the mirror. As I age (not so gracefully) I find new gray hairs and wrinkles. I am usually able to convince myself I am becoming more distinguished in my appearance. True or not, I am discovering new things about myself. Go to a library, watch a documentary, or explore your front lawn on your hands and knees.

Frustrated by a lack of progress toward wellness during my last bout with depression, I created my own learning and laughing challenge. I simply went to a nearby grocery store and set a goal of meeting at least ten new people and making three of them smile each day. Soon, I was meeting new friends and joking about kiwi fruit and discussing the advantages of plastic versus paper bags. It wasn’t long after that the pain of depression left and I regained my sense of self.

Recovery isn’t easy. It takes courage and considerable effort to set ambitious goals and act to make them reality. But the payoff? Just ask my brother when he stops laughing because we tried to tip over cows during today’s unplanned adventure.

If you have used humor or a learning attitude to improve your life, I’d like to hear about it. E-mail me at steve@RecoverResources.com. Here’s one of my favorite quotes:

Humor enables one to live in the midst of tragic events without becoming a tragic figure.—T. “Cy” Eberhart


October 14, 2008

Recent events in my life reminded me of the importance of self-determination. Self-determination is generally regarded as the ability to choose one’s own life path. Too often, it seems, when we are in the midst of serious depression or another psychiatric disorder, our ability to select options diminishes. Even when we are feeling better and are well along the recovery journey, our options may be limited and others may be making decisions on our behalf.

If we are unable to decide for ourselves how our lives will be lived, then recovery is illusory. True recovery means regaining the ability to make the decisions that affect our lives—even if we make wrong decisions, as bad decisions are learning opportunities. Our desire for self-determination begins as children and is usually not satisfied until we are adults. When our ability to make life decisions is removed, we are really being treated like children again.

When we are in the midst of a psychiatric crisis, our ability to make reasonable decisions may be impaired and an advocate (most often a friend or family member) must make certain decisions for us. But, too often, the right to make such decisions is slow to return. Once others have that “power” over us, it is often difficult for us to reclaim.

One way to preserve a measure of self-determination is through a psychiatric advance directive (PAD). A PAD is recognized in many states as a legal document that states an individual’s psychiatric treatment preferences. PADs are created while one is feeling well and usually involve designating a patient advocate who is a trusted person committed to one’s best interests.

In some states, such as North Carolina, PADs are recognized as powerful documents and there is substantial evidence that people receive the most appropriate treatment when they have one. But in far too many states treatment facilities are unaware of PADs and their ramifications even though PADs are authorized by statute.

Self-determination is worthless without choices. These include where to live, work, receive treatment, and how that treatment will be provided. While self-determination has proven effective in the United States for persons with developmental disabilities, persons with psychiatric disorders often have too few options. In areas where self-determination is embraced, those in recovery can select case managers (they may even designate a family member or friend to act as their paid case manager), psychiatrists, living arrangements, and where and how they wish to receive a variety of services.

If you are unhappy with treatment or case management, you may wish to consider investigating self-determination options. They say squeaky wheels get the grease and you may have to advocate aggressively. But in most of the United States, self-determination can be exercised and bring you the treatment and services that work best for you.

All this was brought home to me recently when I took my dog for a walk. Little Bear has always sought total control over his life and when I put a leash on him, he promptly grasped the leash in his mouth so he could lead himself on the walk. Wow! Self-determination is a wonderful thing!

Consider the following quote from an unknown author: Success is reached not by chance but by choice.

September 29, 2008

Last week, I was invited to join a small group of experts in Washington, DC to discuss barriers to employment for persons with psychiatric disorders. We were asked to brainstorm possible solutions and then make recommendations for the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA).

It was a heady and intense two days. We were mentally drained at the end but we all felt good about the process, the results, and the promise our voices would be heard.

Throughout the session, two common themes emerged. First, employers must hear from other employers about the advantages of hiring persons with psychiatric disorders. And second, persons with such disorders must become aware of their potential to re-enter the workforce and make substantial contributions to society. How these goals would be best accomplished resulted in considerable debate.

There are a growing number of employers who have found persons with all kinds of disabilities have a great many abilities. Walgreens, for example, has a workforce comprised of 37 percent of people with disabilities. One company official said that at first he thought the company was doing something great for society. After a very short time, he found the company was doing something great for itself. The company official described how they learned hiring people with disabilities did not mean compromising on skill sets. He said the company found that a healthy organizational culture emerged—one that has led to greater productivity and worker satisfaction among the entire workforce.

That is just one success story from an employer. When it comes to inspiring persons with psychiatric disorders with hope to re-enter the workforce, I immediately thought about Bill MacPhee, CEO and founder of Magpie Publications. His story is enough to inspire anyone.

But Bill, through SZ Digest and Anchor: Conquering Depression, has gone much further than anyone could reasonably expect. Issue after issue, the pages of these publications are filled with inspiration. Bill has put his passion and compassion into action and it is reflected not only in these magazines, but his staff as well. There are, of course, other places to find inspiration. But if we wait for it to fall into our laps, we may spend the rest of our lives wishing instead of working.

Depression is one leading cause of disability and productivity loss in the United States and Canada. It is a serious problem but, one by one, it is a problem we can overcome. Have you emerged from the darkness of depression into the light of wellness and re-entered the workforce? How did you do it? Was there something or someone that was of particular help? I’d like to hear your story and perhaps share it in this blog or in the pages of Anchor.

My request is not entirely altruistic. Your stories inspire me. They make me want to do more to spread the word of recovery. If you would like to share your story (your name will remain confidential if you wish), please contact me at: steve@recoverresources.com. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you already know I find inspiration through the words of others. Consider the following quote and see if it doesn’t make you feel a bit better:



September 15, 2008

When I think about my time in the depths of depression, I remember how it affected my friends and family. My family was “there” to help, but they didn’t really know how to help. They simply did not understand depression.

My friends, however, were a different story. A great many decided my sadness was too much for them and I have not heard from them in many years. But a great many also understood—or tried to understand—and stuck with me. In that way, I discovered who my real friends were. Depression was a “screen” through which only my true friends could pass.

There is no doubt relationships are important. But relationships can also be difficult. I’ve learned that forgiveness and patience are two important qualities that can help one build and maintain healthy relationships.

I learned about patience in 1984, when I spent five months on a log raft drifting 1,700 miles down the Mississippi River. We drifted at a snail’s pace from Minneapolis to New Orleans. On board were three friends I had convinced to join me in the adventure. Most of the time, there were no problems between us. But when you have four people confined to a 16 x 32-foot raft, tensions are bound to arise. There were times I became impatient and nearly expressed that feeling in anger. Fortunately, I learned to distract myself with a task and put off those feelings.

Forgiveness, on the other hand, was a more difficult lesson for me to learn. After years of very severe depression, I came to realize I was only feeding that illness with bitterness I held toward others. That bitterness eventually spread to other parts of my life. I isolated myself, consumed with thoughts of revenge.

At the urging of a case manager who believed in my strengths, I began volunteering at a local botanical garden. I led nature walks for elderly persons who were excited about exotic plants and their flowers. Explaining little-known aspects of the plants caused me to interact with people in a meaningful way.

Gone were the negative thoughts about others and in their place were feelings of forgiveness. That “letting go” of ill will allowed me to grow and move beyond my problems.

Soon, I was on my recovery journey. Instead of isolating myself, I began seeking out others at the post office, the grocery store, the gas station—wherever I happened to be. As time went by, I started feeling less blue and found a part-time job as a peer supporter for a local mental health agency.

It seems like a very long time ago; another lifetime, really. These days, I continue to seek out others and I enjoy the company of a great many friends.

The recovery journey is unique to each person and, while my experience may not apply to others, perhaps someone will find he or she can also emerge from the darkness by reaching out to others. Have you had such an experience? If so, please let me know. I can be reached at: steve@recoverresources.com
I found the following quote that seems especially meaningful this week:



September 2, 2008

For 55 years, I’ve managed to avoid roller coasters. Just the sight of them caused me to tremble.

I’ve had my share of thrills in life such as exploring the water depths in a mini-submarine, scuba diving on shipwrecks, mountain climbing, and facing down polar bears in the Arctic. But roller coasters have always been far beyond the thick walls of my comfort zone.

After a busy two months of conference planning, my little brother presented me with a ticket to an amusement park and announced he was going to help me relax and take my mind off work. A few days later, I found myself staring at a roller coaster ride that reached 420 feet into the air and accelerated riders 120 miles per hour in less than four seconds and took them on a series of twists and turns high in the air.

“It takes a person with special issues to design such a ride,” I thought. “But it takes an equally disturbed person to ride it.”

I reminded myself that fear can be a good thing. It can save our lives. But it can also prevent us from living a full life and create barriers that keep us isolated. After some cajoling, my brother and I buckled ourselves into a roller coaster car and we took off on a 20-second ride that taught me more than I expected.

I learned I scream like a little girl and come close to wetting my pants when terrified. I also learned I can find the courage to go well beyond my comfort zone to expand my life experiences. Now, climbing a ladder to clean the gutters of my home will not seem so frightening.

There were other life lessons in the experience. I discovered, again, how fortunate I am to have supportive friends and family who are willing to help me grow as a person and maintain my physical and mental health.

I also re-discovered the value of self-care and managing stress. Finally, I learned that it is not enough to be only a recovery advocate. It is vital to reach beyond our passions to taste all of life’s facets so we can know all the joys of living and enjoy more than the rewards of helping others but of helping ourselves.

It is too easy to forget we are more than a psychiatric “label.” We are people with tremendous potential who can learn from life’s challenges and grow as human beings.

My advice is simply this: Test the bounds of your comfort zone. Enjoy life. Love. Laugh. Learn. Discover who you are and what you can be.


August 22, 2008

I usually don’t have time to watch much television, but recently I caught an episode of Judge Joe Brown. This is a “reality” show where Judge Brown listens to plaintiffs and defendants and then pronounces a judgment favoring one or the other.

During this episode, Judge Brown dealt with a defendant with a long history of a psychiatric disorder. I was horrified by the way Brown treated the defendant. He scoffed at the notion the defendant had a co-occurring disorder, called him a “baby” because he lived with his mother and ignored the fact the defendant had been expelled from junior high.

The defendant bravely disclosed a psychiatric disorder and his history revealed an obvious pattern of trauma. While I do not believe the defendant should be excused from destructive behavior, Judge Brown’s condemnation of the young man revealed Brown’s ignorance about psychiatric disorders.

I was angered until I remembered this was a reality show. And the reality is the general public often does not understand or feel compassion for persons with psychiatric conditions. Judge Brown’s attack on the defendant reflected the public’s view of such conditions and the resulting self-medication that often results from it.

Unfortunately, this stigma is especially common in regard to depression. We are often labeled “lazy,” “unmotivated,” or having a “moral weakness.” None of these labels, of course, are accurate. While I do not wish depression or any other psychiatric disorder on anyone, I wonder if Judge Brown’s attitude would be different if he had personal experience with such a disorder.

Judge Brown obviously had no appreciation for the value of family support, the frequency of self-medication that results in a co-occurring diagnosis, or the many other challenges facing the defendant. My anger turned to sympathy. Judge Brown, despite his education and experience as a jurist, had not learned much—if anything—about persons with such conditions.

Fortunately, courts across the country are recognizing the effects psychiatric challenges can bring. An increasing number of criminal courts are infused with education and programs that divert such defendants to alternative programs. Judge Brown seems woefully out of touch with contemporary trends and knowledge.

When we face such stigma, it is difficult indeed to maintain hope. But we must prevail. Just as millions face depression each year, so too do millions embark on recovery journeys. This is what we must remember. Hope is real, valid, and the foundation for recovery. We must not let the ignorance portrayed on television, in films, and in print media discourage us.

It takes courage to disclose a depression or other psychiatric diagnosis. But such disclosure can help educate others. Our challenges can become an opportunity to educate and improve understanding among the general public.

I hope, someday, Judge Brown will come to this understanding. I hope that someday I will watch his show again and see him react with compassion instead of contempt. I hope, someday, stigma is no longer an issue.

We have come a long way in educating others but, obviously, we still have a long way to go. Without the destructive stigma and misunderstanding, we all have an opportunity to create a life filled with opportunity and hope that we can enjoy a happy, productive life.

August 5, 2008

There are some problems that you can’t think your way out of; you have to feel your way out. For many of us, our intellect is our first resource for problem solving. We have learned it is both safe and logical to use our brains to understand and respond to life’s challenges. But for some challenges, the brain is virtually useless. It is the heart that heals.

This seems especially true when it comes to depression. We feel isolated not only from others, but also from our own feelings. When we are in the depths of depression, our feelings are governed by a chemical imbalance that leaves us in darkness.

The sadness we feel is real enough. And when friends and family say we have no reason for that sadness, they rob us of our right to feel how we feel. As a result, we resort to intellectualizing our situation. Depression, however, is not logical. It defies reason. When we try to “think away” our sadness, we become more and more frustrated because it is in vain.

This was my experience during my recent bout of depression. The more I thought about why I was feeling the way I was, the deeper the depression. Finally, I realized I had to change my approach. But what would work?

Then one day I mustered the energy to go to a local grocery store. I wasn’t there five minutes before I heard a series of thuds in the next aisle. Rounding the corner, I saw an elderly man in a wheelchair trying to grasp a large can of peaches above his reach. In his quest for the sweet fruit, several cans tumbled off the shelf and lay around him.

I went to the cans of peaches and placed one in the basket on his wheelchair. Then I picked up the fallen containers and placed them back on the shelf. All the while, I smiled and made pleasant conversation with the man. He smiled back and we joked for a few minutes. He reminded me of my recently deceased father who also used a wheelchair in his last years but retained a keen sense of humor.

As we prepared to depart, the man shook my hand and held it for a second as his eyes glistened. “Thank you for helping an old man,” he said. I made another feeble joke and wished him well.

During that exchange, I did not feel depressed. And, for a few minutes, I actually felt well. My new approach, I decided, was to meet and engage as many people as possible. It was the beginning of the end of the depression for me because the incident made me look beyond my brain and into my heart. I could have reasoned that helping the elderly man was someone else’s job and not mine. Instead, my heart told me an act of kindness was a better choice.

Although women are not immune to intellectualizing their problems away, men are more susceptible. For men, expressing compassion and feelings of love and sadness are often viewed as weaknesses. But this is not so. In our society, it takes courage to risk ridicule and express feelings.
Many—men and women alike—find it uncomfortable to hug in public or to simply say, “I love you,” to a close friend. We are accustomed to burying our feelings instead of expressing them.

We are entitled to our feelings—all of our feelings. Depression can teach us to recognize feelings and find other, healthier feelings.

Some problems can be thought out. For others, we must feel our way out. Take the risk and explore not only how your mind works, but also your heart as well. It is all part of the lifelong recovery journey.

Consider the following anonymous quote:

When you see boundaries as opportunities, the world becomes a limitless place.


Comments? Suggestions? I’d like to hear them. I can be contacted at: steve@recoverresources.com

July 21, 2008

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit the Smithsonian Museum of Native American History in Washington, DC I have always been attracted to other cultures, because learning about them has helped me learn about myself.

I stopped into the museum’s library and casually asked a librarian if there were any materials dealing with the Native American view of mental health. I knew I was asking a difficult question because Native Americans represent a very diverse culture with very different perspective about many things.

The librarian directed me to a book that failed to give me a definitive answer, though it did provide direction. The author noted that “mental health” was really a misnomer to most Native American cultures in history because they did not separate the mind from the body: the two were linked and should be treated as one. The Native Americans generally believed that mental disorders were the result of an “imbalance” in the body that could be treated with herbs and/or rituals.

That approach made uncommon sense and I wondered how Native American cultures came to that conclusion. Then I thought about my professional training as a wildlife biologist. In ecology classes, we learned how to recognize the interrelationships between environmental components. We, too, learned that everything was connected in nature.

Suddenly, it became clear. Native Americans were so closely linked to their environment that applying these “connection” principles to their bodies was a small, logical leap. As researchers study the mind and how it works, it seems they are increasingly making that connection between mind and body through science. What the Native Americans knew intuitively is now being proven empirically.

Sometimes, it is very difficult for those of us with depression to take care of our bodies and our heads. Medications can make us gain unwanted weight and symptoms can rob of us of the energy to exercise. We may engage in unhealthy behavior, such as smoking (some psychiatrists believe nicotine is a mild antidepressant), drinking alcohol, or using illegal substances to escape the pain depression brings.

Taking responsibility for recovery means taking responsibility for our entire bodies. Exercise, for example, has been proven to increase positive brain chemicals, but getting out of bed or off the sofa can be a huge barrier. Overcoming such barriers, even one small step at a time, can help us reclaim our lives and move beyond depression.

Whether you are just starting out or well along your recovery journey, I hope you think about the mind-body relationship. Focus not only on the mental disorder, but on the ways you can use your entire body to overcome depression.

Have you found a way to combine both head and body into a recovery plan? If so, email me. I’d like to hear about it.

One cannot pick a flower without disturbing a star.

—Antoine St. Exupery

July 7, 2008

Just as millions are diagnosed with clinical depression each year, so too do millions recover. That thought was foremost in my mind when I was recently asked to write an article about recovery. It was a most difficult assignment.

Recovery means different things to different people. And because of that, there is no single path to achieve it. If I had a formula, a roadmap, or a set of surefire recommendations that led everyone to recovery, I would be a wealthy person indeed!

There is no doubt that the recovery journey begins with hope; that hope can be found through other people, spirituality, music, and the pages of magazines such as Anchor: Conquering Depression. These are just some of the places hope can be found, but one must be looking for it.

Recovery, then, also involves personal responsibility. No one is going to come up to you on a sidewalk and hand you a package of “recovery.” There is no medication labeled “recovery.” One must decide to pursue recovery and then seek the resources necessary to make it happen.

Because recovery is unique to the individual, the number and type of resources is widely variable. It may involve spirituality, medications, therapy, peer and family support, and the ability to make one’s own decisions. The number of resources and degree upon which you rely on them is what makes the recovery journey unique.

Recovery is a life-long journey that often involves a lifestyle change. Each day, I examine my life and the potential challenges the day will bring. I also examine potential opportunities and consider how dealing with depression has helped me adopt a learning attitude. I know difficulties will arise each day and I can respond with negative thoughts and actions, or I can view the difficulties as an opportunity to learn about myself and others. For me, recovery is all about the latter.

It can take a long time—sometimes years—to make progress on the recovery journey. And there may be setbacks along the way. The key is to avoid discouragement and look within yourself to rekindle the flame of hope and move forward again.

The recovery journey is often a long and winding road with unexpected twists and turns. But remember that millions of people embark on this journey and lead happy, meaningful lives. I hope you join us on that journey!

A pessimist is one who finds difficulty in every opportunity.
An optimist is one who finds opportunity in every difficulty.

June 23, 2008

On my way to a major mental health conference in Chicago, Illinois last week, I thought about all the challenges we face as persons with a mental illness.

Too many psychiatric hospitals use seclusion and restraints; too many clinicians do not understand the reality and power of recovery; and the general public is still heavily laden with stigma that discourages so many from seeking help. By the time I arrived at the conference, I felt a bit discouraged and wondered if the light at the end of the tunnel still shone.

But as I entered the hotel hosting the event, I was met by Peter Ashenden of the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance. Peter, always enthusiastic, offered a heavy dose of good cheer. I spent the next two days greeting old friends and meeting new ones. By the time I headed home, my attitude had changed drastically.

None of the challenges had disappeared, but I was struck by the fact that so many great people are working—and working hard—to improve mental health services. What they all have in common is passion. All are truly dedicated to improving the lives of others.
One can almost touch this passion. It is seen in the energy and creativity people bring to helping others. And it is also seen in a willingness to collaborate. Working with others is so prevalent. Egos, control, and power are non-issues. “We’re all in this together” is a common phrase shared by so many.

Yes, we have considerable challenges. But so many wonderful people—those with a psychiatric diagnosis or not—are putting their passion into action. It is so encouraging!

Have you put your passion into action? Send me an email and tell me about it.

“Those who believe in themselves can grow anywhere!”
-Unknown

June 9, 2008

It’s over! I have declared my recent bout of depression officially over!

For a month—as I disclosed earlier in this blog—I had “acquired” depression again. I had been well for about six years, and then depression suddenly re-entered my life. But I have had a great three weeks and believe I am beyond the illness again.

And, just as I suspected, I learned a great deal from the recent experience. One of the most important lessons was a re-understanding of the devastation depression can bring, both mentally and physically. Having been well for six years, I had somewhat lost touch with the pain depression can bring.

Perhaps intentionally, I allowed myself forget the intense suffering. Some say it is politically incorrect to say “suffering,” as it places one in the role of victim. But I know of no other word that fits. I woke up each day struggling with a long list reasons of why I should not continue my life and a short list of why I should. It was a feeling I thought I would never have again.

That is the second lesson I learned. I realized that even though I live my life with a positive attitude and surround myself with like-thinking friends, I was still vulnerable. No longer will I believe depression is forever out of my life. It is a humbling realization.

Another important lesson is the value of persistence in the struggle to feel better. I re-read my own book on depression and tried every coping skill I knew. Nothing worked. Then I tried something new for me: I decided to take two weeks to simply meet as many people as I could.

I stopped isolating and went to grocery stores, shopping malls, concerts, parks, and parties just to meet new people and interact with them. It was difficult at first, but soon I found myself distracted from the depression and able to focus on other, positive aspects of my life.

As I described in a previous blog, my father’s recent death left me searching for meaning in my life, which was a large part of the depression. But that search has become an exciting adventure as opportunities virtually bombard me daily. Sometimes, I discovered, you just have to live with your eyes open to opportunities and they will find you.

So, depression has left my life—at least for now. I hope I never experience another bout. But if I do, I have learned valuable lessons that will help me endure and get back on track.
I am thankful my last bout of depression lasted only a month. So many people struggle for so long. I have a new appreciation for their battle and re-dedicate myself to helping them any way I can. A big part of that will be my continued involvement with Anchor magazine.

If you are currently in that depression struggle, take heart: You are not alone. Most of all, remember that hope is out there waiting for you. You may have to look for it even though you are in the midst of incredible pain. But be persistent and try new wellness strategies.
One last piece of advice: Resolve to learn from adversity. Every one of life’s trials brings an opportunity to learn. Instead of focusing on the pain and devastation of depression, try imagining the wonderful knowledge—about yourself and others—you will gain from the experience.

Smooth seas do not make a skilled sailor.
—African Proverb


May 26, 2008

On a recent flight, I picked up a business magazine which included an article about a new book called Crucibles of Leadership, by Robert Thomas. The author examined the lives of the most successful leaders and identified one commonality among all: Successful leaders of various organizations had lived through some sort of diversity and learned from the experience. They then applied that knowledge to their management style. As a result, they became compassionate people who respected all their workers—from the window washer to the chief accountant.

That was interesting enough, but then I recalled a recent comment from a psychologist about schizophrenia. While he noted all of the challenges the disease brings, he noted that persons with schizophrenia are often great problem solvers. He said they “think outside the box” because their sense of reality has been tested and altered. As a result, they are often able to find solutions others fail to imagine.

Taking these two concepts together, it strikes me that persons with psychiatric disorders, who have learned from the challenges such conditions bring, offer a pool from which highly effective leaders can be found.

Then I thought about successful leaders—both past and current—who have dealt with psychiatric disorders. This list is impressive and includes Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, Ted Turner, and a host of others. And we don’t have to look too far to find leaders among us. Bill MacPhee, CEO and founder of Schizophrenia Digest and Anchor, clearly fits.

Wow! Perhaps instead of wandering the campuses of major business schools looking for promising MBAs, executive recruiters should instead be visiting psychiatric hospitals!

The argument is true enough that not everyone with a psychiatric diagnosis makes an effective leader, but the same can be said about MBAs. It strikes me, however, that persons with psychiatric histories are a virtually untapped pool. Often these people experience symptoms about the time they graduate from high school. That deprives them of the opportunity to go to college. Thus, they lack academic credentials that organizations so often seek. Unfortunate indeed!

How do we correct this situation? One could follow Bill MacPhee’s lead and start a business, but it shouldn’t have to be this way. Instead, learning from a psychiatric condition should be considered a powerful credential of its own. After all, we have learned some of life’s toughest lessons the hard way.

Have you learned skills that could translate into effective leadership? Send me an email and let me know; I’d like to hear your thoughts on this. In the meantime, consider the following quote from an unknown source for inspiration: “Choice, not chance, determines destiny.”


May 12, 2008

My last blog entry revealed my descent back into depression. It was ironic: Just as I was becoming involved with a depression magazine, I was struck with the malady! And it was full-blown depression, too. I spent every waking hour wishing I had a legitimate reason for ending the pain—and my life—permanently. I was sleeping only four hours a night and lost 15 pounds in three weeks. But, just as I wrote a few weeks ago, I knew good would come of it. It has.

The depression has lifted almost completely. Oh, there are ups and downs yet to come, but that is the depression cycle as my mind heals itself. But what made the difference? What inspired hope?

I don’t mean to sound trite or self-serving, but Bill MacPhee’s “At the Helm” column in the Spring 2008 issue of Anchor was a huge part of that inspiration. I’ve had the pleasure of dining with Bill on tasty meatball subs, but it wasn’t that personal contact that did it. It was his words. In his column, Bill asked, “Who is your anchor?” Whoa! That got me to thinking. I am blessed with a multitude of friends. They have often come to me for support and now I needed their support. I mustered the courage to ask and they listened.

Among my most valued friends is a young man 30 years my junior. Zack is an incredibly caring person and long ago we made a pact to “be there” for the other when we needed help. Sure enough, Zack was there. He listened and offered words of encouragement. He knew what I needed to hear and, slowly, I felt myself regaining control.

My recovery journey continues but, just as I suspected, I have learned valuable lessons. First, my mind is “fresh” with the depression experience. Perhaps I needed a reminder of the mental devastation depression can bring. Second, I discovered the value of support. Just that listening ear can mean so much!

Finally, my depression was hard on Zack and other friends and family. But they “survived” my moodiness and distorted thoughts. That has made me appreciate those relationships all the more.

I’ve included with this entry a short essay on support inspired by my recent experience. I hope you enjoy it. If you have “anchors” in your life, please e-mail me and let me know. I’d love to hear how others have helped you. But don’t expect me to read your e-mails with a dry eye.

Invisible Bags
Each of us carries an invisible bag of hopes and dreams.

Sometimes, we stumble and our bags are jostled. Our hopes and dreams spill and we are left with little or nothing in our bags. These are times of hopelessness and despair everyone faces sometime in their lives.

Very recently, I stumbled and fell and watched as all my hopes and dreams scattered into darkness. And just as I thought my bag would never be refilled, a friend came to me and reached into his own bag of hopes and dreams.

He listened, smiled and with a pat on the back, I felt my bag regain its heft. Inside were new, exciting hopes and dreams that made the old ones seem lackluster and dull. And minute by minute, my bag grew until it overflowed. My bag is now filled with enough hopes and dreams to share with others. It is a gift given to me by a friend whose bag I once filled. He held those hopes and dreams for when I needed them most.

Take a look inside your own bag. It is right there. Search hard. It is in your heart.
Find others who have stumbled along life’s journey and whose bags are not so full. Give them some of your gifts. Listen. Smile. Touch them.

The next time you stumble and your hopes and dreams are scattered in the shadows, you will find others have held them for you. Soon, your bag too, will overflow and you will be able to once again give them to others.

Hopes. Dreams. Ahhh…what a difference a friend makes!


April 21, 2008


Depression dogged me for nearly a decade. Through medications and therapy, I emerged into the light and was symptom-free for about five years. ‘Was’ is the operative word in that last sentence.

My father died in January after a lengthy illness. As a primary care giver, I was close to him and was rarely far from the home I shared with my parents. For seven years, I never knew what time of the day or night I would be needed to pick him up after a fall or to call an ambulance for a high fever.

My last act of care for my father was recording his time of death as he breathed his last in his bed. In a moment, my life changed. Suddenly, I was no longer a care giver. A hospice service and the funeral home provided useful literature on grieving and I read it all. While grieving the loss of a great father continues, it pales in comparison to the loss of meaning in my life.

I spent several weeks wandering in deep depression as my mind sought a source for new meaning. The depression pain was all too familiar. I began to lose weight, rarely slept, and I found myself unable to concentrate.

I am fortunate to have a supportive family and understanding friends. But this was not enough. It wasn’t long before I sought counseling—something I once thought I would never need again.

Please, readers, do not mistake this as a sad story written to elicit your sympathy. It is a story of opportunity and hope. My bout of depression began to lift soon after I resolved to embrace change. It was a useful reminder of the devastation that depression can bring. Pain and hopelessness are difficult to endure, but they can be useful.

Today, I am convinced the new stage of life ushered by my father’s death will be even more rewarding and meaningful than before. The pain and hopelessness have been replaced by the excitement of self-awareness and exploration.

In many ways, I am starting anew. I once again have an opportunity to examine my values, feelings, and opportunities. Yes, I regret my father’s death. But do not feel pity for me because I am certain that loss will allow me to explore and gain new meaning for my life.

“Choice, not chance, determines destiny.”
—Unknown

April 7, 2008


I have never written a blog before. To be honest, it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I learned what a blog is. I was told it is a place to communicate ideas and opinions. Well, I certainly have enough of those!

When Bill MacPhee asked me to write a blog for the Anchor Web site, I was honored; Bill’s wonderful work is quickly gaining recognition throughout the United States and Canada, and the more I came to know Bill, the more I respected him for his intelligence and passion. And it is this passion I share.

Like so many, I struggled with major depression for what seemed like an eternity—about six years. Out of hopelessness and despair, I attempted suicide. My failed attempt was just one more inadequacy in my life, and I sat on a sofa and sobbed for five years.

The turning point for me came when I found a caring therapist who believed I had strengths and the ability to improve my life. I didn’t believe it at first, but I discovered he was right. Today, my passion is helping others find hope and encouragement to overcome depression. I have written three books on mental health issues and I speak to groups across the country. A handful of years ago, I would never have dreamed this was possible.

That is the power of hope—which is fundamental to recovery. I have a string of university degrees and lots of academic credentials. But when I think about what was most important in shaping the healthy, satisfying life I now enjoy, it isn’t the formal education that made the difference: It is the mental health experience. The degrees are almost irrelevant to me.

Today, my life is better than I could have ever dreamed. Spreading hope for recovery is a big part of that because, like Bill, I have a passion to help others.

In the current issue of Anchor, check out the stories about Amy Sky and Facing Depression. These articles are hopeful and encouraging, which is what Anchor is all about! Reading these articles, you’ll quickly see how passionate Bill and the Anchor staff are about helping others achieve wellness.

In future blogs, I’ll share information about what I’ve learned from personal experience and from others who have overcome depression. I’d like to hear from you, too. If you have comments or questions, please send them to me at steve@recoverresources.com.
My blog will be updated bi-weekly, so be sure to come back again. And, as a sidenote, I find inspiration through quotes, so I’ll be sharing a favorite quote with you in each blog, too.

This is going to be fun and rewarding journey together. I’m glad you’re along!

“It’s not the load that breaks you down, it’s the way you carry it.
—Lena Horne

Steve Harrington lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Previously diagnosed with schizophrenia and major depression, he has traveled a long road to recovery where his greatest challenges turned into new opportunities to help others. He is now a published author, columnist, public speaker, peer support specialist, and recovery advocate. His website can be found at www.recoverresources.com .