The Last Harvest by Marisa Kestel on etsy

There are few more contentious topics these days than “what you eat.”

I won’t get into which diets are best and how we need to change the world through them, and this also has nothing to do with changing your body shape.

I’m here to talk about what I tried that worked in helping me to feel better.

Foods avoided

First, I cut out alcohol consumption. Alcohol makes me feel worse, almost across the board: any kind, any situation, any amount. It sends me into the pit, for at least 48 hours. (I’m not making this up.) I haven’t had addiction issues, and there were a few years where alcohol consumption was really fun! But cutting it out has been good for me.

Caffeine. It messes with mood ups and downs too much. Yes, this meant even cutting out chocolate for a while. But the effects of eating it were so strong and noticeable that cutting it out created marked positive feedback.

Refined foods, like sugar and wheat flour and packaged foods.

Nightshades. There was a point where one of the meds I trialled had me swollen up with some kind of auto-immune response that behaved like rheumatoid arthritis. As we sorted out the underlying cause(s), my nutritionist recommended a low-inflammation diet. It excluded all refined foods and nightshades: peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, and eggplant.

Foods welcomed

Fresh vegetables. Mother* was right: fresh vegetables are really good for you. Paying such strong attention to what was happening in my body led me to feeling the energetics of food. And eating fresh vegetables creates a happy buzz.
(*Maybe not yours, but someone’s.)

Food that’s close to home. Not everyone has the luxury of having garden space in the back yard and living near a mixed farming community. But for those of us who do, we know that eating vegetables from the earth tastes good and very different from the same vegetables we get in most stores. It’s the same with meat, if you eat it. For example, chicken from your local farmer tastes so much better than chicken from a commercial farm. And there has to be goodness in that.

Water. Okay, it’s not a food, but it seems to help with balancing everything out.

Tea. It’s hot, it’s a change in taste, and it’s soothing. After cutting out caffeine, I hit rooibos. It’s perfect when I’m after a mellow, dark drink. And I have always enjoyed herbal infusions, so it wasn’t a stretch to reach for them. To go back to my earlier article on how pushing our senses can shift how we’re feeling, tea fits.

It’s both simple and complicated: We become accustomed to eating certain foods, even when we know that others might be better for us. By trying to move toward those that help us more, and avoiding more of the ones that make us feel worse, we can start to participate in feeling better more of the time.

Have you noticed that, over time or in the moment, certain foods help support good feelings? What works (or doesn’t work) for you?

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I am writing this because I had an experience. I am in no way a medical professional. I had an experience, and I have learned a lot from it, and that’s the foundation of all of this. You are reading the seventh in a series of thirteen articles on surviving depression. Find the first six articles here.

In the Zen Garden by Gregory Bryant as MantaWave on etsy

My medical doctors had the best intentions, of that I’m sure.

I trialled four anti-depressants in six months, and none of them improved my symptoms. With my then-slow-moving brain, I took some advice and tried some alternatives — and set out to find a way to feel better. Here’s some of what worked for me.

Acupuncture. I had tried it once before, after a back injury, and it had helped me. In all good fortune, I have an accomplished acupuncturist in my small town. He had trained in a psychiatric clinic earlier in his career, so was compassionate toward my slow-moving mind and body. I started out seeing him twice per week, and, several years later, now see him once a week for “maintenance.”

Nutrition. I started seeing a wholistic nutritionist. We talked about eliminating sugar and processed foods, and continuing to avoid caffeine and alcohol (these I dropped early on, due to their mood-shifting qualities). We worked through some homeopathic protocols and high-quality supplements like fish oil and vitamin D, on top of multi vitamins and minerals.

Meditation. I came to vipassana and tried my best at it. I’d light a candle nearly every day and sit in front of it, trying to focus on my breath, hoping to feel better, or, simply feel.

Exercise: Walking, swimming, and skiing. It was intensely hard work to even get out the door when I was at my worst, but I came to find that the effort was worth it. Exercise helped me to start to feel both physically better and good about myself for having accomplished it. There are ideas and studies about how bilateral movement promotes mind-body connections, and even helps brain messages cross the corpus callosum. Plus, although it is very hard to do when you’re depressed, exercise starts to feel good over time.

Joining a swim club. Exercise + camaraderie + buoyancy = feeling good.

The band. I lucked into finding a folk-ish roots band that practiced a lot and performed very little. There, I could sing. The act of opening your mouth and letting out a good sound, in the company of a kind group, can do wonders for finding a feeling.

Getting a dog. I wouldn’t recommend this for everyone. It’s a lot of work and a huge commitment. For me, though, in my life and relationship, it was a good idea. A dog needs attention and care and a walk every day. And I needed to give that. Plus, a dog gives back a thousandfold.

Yoga. It feels good.

Friends + kind people. Accepting help is hard. Even when you’re feeling well—and not no mention when some of your former friends don’t know what to do so they withdraw. Asking for support is a big job—with risks—but there are moments where it’s necessary and can be rewarding.

It is a grand mix of variables, but when the magic pill doesn’t quite work, some people can get better without drugs.

Have you tried any alternative therapies to try to start feeling better? What were they and how did you know that they were helping?

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I am writing this because I had an experience. I am in no way a medical professional. I had an experience, and I have learned a lot from it, and that’s the foundation of all of this. You are reading the sixth in a series of thirteen articles on surviving depression. Find the first five articles here.

papyrus collage with red cross by beamahan on etsy.com

Early in my “major-episode-of-depression” journey, I tried some family doctor-prescribed antidepressants. They didn’t work for me, and in our health care system, it seemed clear that there would be a several-month-long waitlist to see a specialist. Instead, it was recommended that I present myself to the local university hospital and prepare to be helped by their emergency clinic, held within their psychiatry ward. Ultimately, I was helped. In the moment, however, I was unnerved, afraid, wary, and suspicious.

Here’s how I survived, and how you could make a similar situation gentler on yourself.

1. Bring a friend.  The friend I brought was matter-of-fact, non-reactionary, and completely steady. She worked on marking student assignments while I worked on filling out a fourteen-page intake questionnaire. (Those of you who have suffered the difficulties in concentrating that accompany depression will understand the basic challenge surrounding this).
2. Be convinced that you will be helped. These are professionals, and they are people. Their education will help them to make good decisions in helping you, and their humanness might mean that it could take some questioning and time: the mental equivalent of X-rays and other poking and prodding that happens when you present with a physical illness.
3. Be honest. Your situation is neither worse nor better than you attempt to make it out to be. Being honest and being in medical care are both important steps on your journey to feeling well.
4. Bring a drink and a snack. You might be there a while. Similarly, bring an easy-reading magazine or your ipod filled with your most comfort-creating music.
5. Be sure that, if your friend cannot stay the entire time, you have someone ready and available to pick you up when it’s all over. The experience might be one of the longest times you have been away from home in a while, and it will likely be difficult. Try to accept their help.
6. Find the humour. For me, I coped by noting the ridiculousness of my first counsellor’s appearance, and later wrote about it. It made it easier at the time to wonder if I might be able to somehow tell others about it and laugh, sooner or later.

Know that you are doing what’s best for yourself, and that you will be helped.

If you live in a centre that does not have specific emergency psychiatric help, and you are feeling unwell for an extended period, or you have feelings of harming yourself or someone else, find a way to get to the general emergency area of your local hospital, where someone can help you.

If you aren’t sure whether you are depressed, but think that you might be, seek help from your family doctor, or begin by checking out the simple Mayo Clinic depression self-assessment link.

Have you had to take care of yourself in a difficult way, like seeking emergency medical help for your mental health? What worked to make it easier for you? How were you able to find small pockets of comfort in an uncomfortable place?

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I am writing this because I had an experience. I am in no way a medical professional. I had an experience, and I have learned a lot from it, and that’s the foundation of all of this. You are reading the fifth in a series of thirteen articles on surviving depression. Find the first four articles here.

Image credit: Ariel Corenthal at The Art of Ariel – click for info

Support: where do you lean when you aren’t strong?

It’s not easy. Ours is a culture of do-it-yourself, of self-starting and pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps. And when you’re sick, this is what you most likely can’t even think of doing.

When you’re feeling low, you both desperately need someone to lean on and also sometimes feel like it’s far too much to ask. It’s not. If it’s all you can do, please try to reach out. Talking to someone thoughtful can make worlds of difference. Here are a few places to start.

1. Friends. If friends are family that we choose for ourselves, try to get in touch with your most care-giving, heart-open, motherly (in the best way), favourite-aunt-or-sister-like friend. She might be able to meet you where you’re at and hear what’s on your mind when you need ultimate caring-for. And if she’s also smart (of course she is!), she will help guide you to people and things that can help.

2. Family. That is, if you are close with your family. They know you. They know how to comfort you and help you, and you might have to stretch a little and ask specifically for what exactly you need. Possible script: “I have been feeling not-so-great lately, and need to tell you what it’s like. Would you be able to listen for a few minutes while I tell you?” (If family have been unhelpful, forget this point and move on.)

3. Professionals. They are called that because they are that: professional. In my gang, I had a family doctor, counsellor/ therapist, acupuncturist, nutritionist, and psychiatrist. It cost money. And lots of time in travelling. And it took a few tries to find people who were helpful for me. Again, it is not ideal: it took some work. A lot of work. Work that was hard to do, and I had little energy, but it ultimately helped me to become healthy again. Because there came a point where, if I didn’t do this work, what kind of work could I ever do? They helped me. Tons.

4. Social groups. Now, I’m not talking about joining a volleyball league because that’s what someone said you should do. (Unless you like volleyball league, and it makes you feel slightly fleetingly good when you go. Or you’re a part of a program and volleyball is a part of the program. In that case, yay you! You’re taking charge of your getting-better!)

What I am talking about is trying to show up at something that happens with other people, and it makes you feel slightly fleetingly good when you go.

It might not feel great. In fact, it might be the biggest, hardest job you have all day: getting ready to go to the community choir practice. Or knitting club. Or swimming practice. It might be the hardest thing you do. And you do it. So you can feel good in the doing of it, even if that feeling-good-for-doing-something feeling lasts one minute. It’s feeling something, and that is good. And the actual doing-of-it might also feel good. Maybe these aren’t the people that you talk to about “how you’re doing.” Maybe these are people that you talk to about music. Or knitting. Or swimming. Or nothing at all, but you’re sharing the same physical space with a common activity. And that has you connected to the world.

5. Other larger-community-type-groups. Here, I’m talking about gatherings like the sacred and religious kind, whether or not you are fully committed to the theme. Or your local folk music club (you can arrive just as the doors close and leave at the break, if you need to). Or the coffee shop around the corner that people go to because it’s around the corner and they can. It is important to find some way to try to be with other semi-anonymous, probably-not-unfriendly people.

6. Animals. It sounds corny, but they help. Find a dog to walk or a cat to snuggle. They don’t ask any questions and will probably simply be happy for the attention. (They also give back exponentially.)

And a point that might be moot for some of you (if you are currently unwell, this might be tricky), but could help too, is to actively cultivate supportive, loving relationships. Not everyone will be open to talking about what’s going on for you. Some, though, might be able to give you a ride to an appointment if you need it. Or ask you to go for a walk once in a while (and be okay if you can’t that day, without needing to hear a reason). It stings, but some people in your life might kind of drop out while you’re sick. Some might return, and some, well, some might not. It’s okay if they have their own thing going on. And you have people in your life who want to be around you; who want to see you get better.

It is possible to get better.

If you’re actively at the bottom, know that there are people who can help. It does get better. And on your way back, try to be kind with yourself.

I am writing this because I had an experience. I am in no way a medical professional. I had an experience, and I have learned a lot from it, and that’s the foundation of all of this.

What is your experience with finding someone to lean on? What’s it like to know you need help, and to ask for it?

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*I use the feminine pronoun throughout. And my single strongest survival supporter has been and still is a man. You will know your people when you meet them.