This post won’t be about HIV. At the moment my view on that is an adaption of a recent Stonewall campaign “Some people are Positive, Get over it.” 

Some of you who have read my posts here before know that I have to deal with a much more insidious and debilitating condition than HIV, and that’s depression. And I have been battling with it on a huge scale of late.

It’s quite a lonely fight, I’ll be frank with you. People want to help and try to engage to help pull you from the morass of darkness that is totally engulfing. They will ask how you are, and then get that panicked look when you begin to truthfully tell them. They tell you they know how you feel, but unless you have stood on a bridge in the rain staring at the expanse of freezing water below with a yearning so deep it is intoxicating at 11pm on a Wednesday night then quite frankly you don’t, and it’s insulting at the very least to try and pretend you do. Unless the only thing that has stopped you jumping is the fact there where eight men in high visibility working on a boat not a hundred metres from where you stood who would see you and try to save you  - then honestly you have no idea how the person feels. 

I write the above with a sense of detachment, as to make it as personal as it truly is angers me and makes me wonder why I didn’t just jump? But I didn’t. I decided to fight again, to try and escape the void that wanted to swallow me, to turn off the voices that had nothing good to say, to not listen to the words "failure" and "loser" anymore. 

And once again I find myself transported back in time and starting again on so many levels, work, personal relationships and even fitness. And it’s a challenge every minute of every day to keep just far enough ahead. 

Getting out of bed each morning is a challenge I applaud myself for beating. Putting a smile on my face and showing the world I am fine is one of the hardest things I do. Turning up for unpaid work to give myself something to do, mindful of the fact that every unpaid job gets me one step nearer to a paid one, is not only at times soul destroying but seems futile. But I do it because not to it is giving in and if I give in then I truly fear I will give up. 

So I protect myself by moving to a higher ground, a place where I superficially engage with the world, I listen to the problems of others. I cannot afford the holiday I want! I’m so tired I cannot wait for this day to be over (this one is usually the day after a big night out with people knowing they had to get up the next day and do a full day of paid work that enabled them to go out in the first place) and I say nothing, because to tell them how I really feel will create an explosion that I don’t think I could control. And god forbid anyone should have an opinion that doesn’t agree with the self-indulgent nonsense people spout on a daily, if not hourly, basis. 

I refuse to look inward these days, if I do see a gap and emptiness that I long to fill, but it will take time. Time I am giving myself as I think it will be worth the wait. I wont compromise who I am and what I want for a quick fix. It doesn’t and never has worked before. Each day is an opportunity to start again and a chance to get it right this time. I wont feel sorry for myself, I will employ every distraction tactic I can think off to keep myself from falling into self pity, I’ll clean my apartment, I’ll read a book, or I will actually sit and listen to music. And by listen I mean digest every word, find hope in the melodies and the prose. Truly engage with art and appreciate the madness and darkness that drove people to produce work that endures. 

Each day is a fight, but every night as I fall into bed mentally as well as physically exhausted I tell myself I have won that fight. And each morning as I climb out of bed after a night disturbed by dreams filled with the very demons I fought during the day, I prepare to fight again. 

The fact that I’m writing this means I am winning. And I have made a deal with a friend, a friend who actually does understand the darkness. The next time I find myself on that bridge, I will call him no matter the time of day or night before I make a choice.

Emotional health is as important as is physical health.  You may be at the gym everyday, eating no carbs, no fat and lots of protein, but you have body aches, you feel down or depressed.  You are obsessed about everything you eat, what you wear, how you look. Perhaps you have developed an inflated opinion of yourself.  Do you put others down to make yourself feel good?  Have you found yourself criticizing others as a way to shift the focus off yourself?  Do you find the need to always have a drink in your hand, a drug in your body or a man in your bed as a way to cope?  All of these, and more, are signs of fragile emotional health.

Emotional health is an inside job.  Nothing out there is going to fix it. No man or woman, no cocktail, no sexual encounter nor drug will fix your emotional health.  But where do we begin?  Step one is having the awareness that something needs to change: you don’t have to know exactly what that is.  It is important to realize that there is no quick fix for emotional health.  It is a solo job and not something a partner can help you fix and shouldn’t be asked to fix. 

But what are we talking about when we talk about emotional health?  It is that sense of being 100% in your skin and not worrying about what anyone else says about you.  A favorite saying of mine, in this regard is,  “What other people think about you, is none of your business”.  If you are emotionally healthy, whether someone likes you or doesn’t like you, will have no effect on how you feel about yourself.  It’s about self-esteem not ego. 

Ego, at it’s worse, is destructive.  At it’s best, when recognized, can be humorous.  Many are in the state of the former not the latter.  Don’t get me wrong, a healthy ego is a good thing but you have to have the awareness that you have one prior to it being healthy. 

In the gay community, we are often our worst enemies.  We think homophobia is all about “the others”.  It is not.  I have met few GLBTQQ2SSAA people who like ALL aspects of our “communities”.  That dislike for an aspect of the community fits into the definition of homophobia.  It can be difficult to embrace all of the distinctive factions that make up our community, but until we do, how can we ask this of others?  Having health, in all its aspects, allows this to happen. 

Emotional health means not tolerating violence in our communities; be it emotional, physical, sexual, financial or otherwise.  We don’t want to acknowledge that domestic violence occurs in our communities. I heard an activist once say “Why should we want to further marginalize ourselves?”  I say, why should we tolerate it within our communities, for we despise and protest it when members of our community are targeted or killed.  It’s easy to point the finger at society,  or the other.  But remember there are fingers point back at you as well. 

Did I get your attention yet? You upset, pissed off, angry at the words on the page and perhaps even the author?  Good.  That might mean you are ready to look at some of the things affecting your emotional health. 

Your emotional health concerns could be about lack of relationships, depression, feeling alone, HIV fatigue, disease fatigue, fear of failure, fear of rejection, physical attributes you want to change but can’t, acceptance of self or others, alcohol and drugs, endless hook-ups, not being able to have sober sex, wanting children, marriage.  The list can go on and yet there is still resistance to change.  

Change is a constant. Things change around us daily. People change.  Jobs change.  Family changes. We change.  Embracing change can be difficult, painful, easy or smooth.  Who knows?  Self-awareness is the goal. Some never get it. They remain with a chip on their shoulder, a self-inflated image of themselves and lack the insight to step out of the box they have created for themselves.  I encounter it over and over again.  For those individuals, I wish them well. Their armor is impenetrable. More talented professionals than I have not succeeded.  

Success and healthy emotional states take time to achieve. There are ups and downs. Having the guidance of someone who understands and can support you through those tough times is the key. A self-contained (wo)man wants no one for support. An enlightened one seeks the guidance, knowledge and wisdom of one who has and is on this path.  

Embrace emotional health. It does get better. There are days where we all feel like it it too much, we can’t handle another thing, yet we do.  I hear and read the stories of teen suicides and wonder where was that person for them to reach out to, to be told it does get better.  Take it from one who knows.  It does. 

I put myself out there.  Reach out to me or someone else you trust.  Ask for help.  It is the first step toward emotional health for a lifetime.  

I tell my GLBTQQ2SSAA clients that they can reach me, night or day, just reach out.  Remembering that “suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”  Other solutions are out there.  The internet has shown us this. 

Some resources:

GLBT National Help Center  1-888-843-4564

GLBT Peer to Peer (under 25 yo) 1-800-246-PRIDE (7743)

Canada

LGBT Youth Line  1-800-268-9688  youthline.ca

Here’s to your emotional health.

Dr. Timothy L. Swift MA, ND, NMD, Naturopathic Doctor

Counseling for couples and individuals, TerraMadreHealth.com

This article has been hard to write for many reasons, the biggest of which is that it hits close to home. I do want to stress that I am not a licensed therapist nor have I had any training on this; these are my own thoughts, feelings, and opinions.

My family has a history with depression. Luckily I can say with the exception of my mom’s uncle, we are still all here today and doing a lot better.  I’ve tried to kill myself twice because I was unhappy with where my life was going, because I was dealing with being gay.  My sister tried to kill herself when she was younger, my cousin used to cut herself, and my mom’s uncle shot himself.

Depression affects us all; most of what we see and come into contact with falls into "situational" and "clinical". Situational depression is a depression that occurs in response to a specific set of external conditions or circumstances.  Clinical depression is a condition identified by loss of energy and ability or desire to function, poor sleep or appetite, and/or exaggerated feelings of hopelessness and discouragement.

The reason why I wanted to write this is because I have been trying to help Lisa, a friend in Germany, who has been going through life events that caused her a lot of pain and sadness.  In February, Lisa’s best friend Chris killed himself after finding out he was HIV-positive and left behind his partner, Tom.

Chris felt guilty about being HIV-positive; he cheated on Tom and may have infected the guy he cheated with.  Instead of dealing with the issue, he was so ashamed of what he did he decided the best way to deal (or not to deal) with it was to end it all.  He wanted to end the guilt.

Tom was lost without Chris and tried to kill himself on multiple occasions. He had been staying with Lisa and her family so she could keep an eye on him in hopes that he would get better and not try to cause himself any harm.  Lisa was determined not to lose Tom and tried to stay at Tom’s side 24-7.  However, this is unrealistic in any scenario, and not healthy for her or her family.  Lisa was starting to feel the effects of Tom’s depression; she wasn’t able to sleep, cried a lot, while lying in bed holding Tom, and started to withdraw from her family.

Last Wednesday morning, I received word that Tom was finally successful at committing suicide; he took advantage of Lisa’s absence from the house and took his car for a ride into the side of a bridge. Lisa was only gone for an hour, and when she returned home she noticed Tom’s car was gone.  Two hours later, the police showed up at her house to tell her the horrible news.

In a two-month span, Lisa lost two friends. Now she is feeling like somehow she has let Tom down for not being there to make sure he wouldn’t succeed in his plans.  However, this was not Lisa’s fault or in her control; Tom made up his mind long before Wednesday that he was going to kill himself and no matter how much Lisa and her family were there for him he was going to follow through with it.  Lisa is now starting to understand that; and with the help of her husband, she is starting to get things back to normal. It’s going to be a tough road for Lisa but she has the support of wonderful people in her life and my thoughts and prayers are with her.

My view on suicide has changed a lot since I tried to kill myself.  I now see it as a cowardly, selfish thing to do. A person attempting suicide wants the pain to end so bad that they never look or think about what they are doing to others around them, like their family and friends. 

However, this wasn’t a thought that came to me quickly.  While I was locked up I was able to see how my actions affected those in my life. The first time I tried committing suicide, I just wanted the pain to subside. I don’t think I was really planning on causing myself to die; I mean it in the sense that I tried to end my life.  After weeks of watching movies/TV, I was released.

The second time was a lot different; I took a lot of pills and chased them down with a bottle of my favorite champagne. By the time the paramedics arrived, I was barely breathing; they had to insert a tube into my throat.  While one was trying to get the tube in, another had to sit on my chest to hold me down.  After a few days in the ICU, I was transferred to Beaumont Psychiatric Hospital.

This hospital was no joke (or at least the section I was in) -- there were people that were not just suicidal but crazy on a whole new level.  If I wanted to shave I had to go to the nurse and get a razor and shave in front of an orderly, then return the razor to him so he coul give it back to the nurse.  There were therapy sessions, both group and one-on-one, that we had to attend as part of treatment.

 

During one visit my mom said, “When you were in San Francisco, you were worse off and you never did anything like this; why are you now?” She got me thinking because she was right.  When I was in San Francisco, I was sleeping out of my truck, in homeless shelters, even on the street -- yet I never tried to hurt myself. This had to be the lowest point in my life. I started to see what my actions were doing to my family; I missed the birth of my nephew because I was feeling sorry for myself.

As days passed, I started to listen to the other patients' problems and issues in group therapy. There was a gentleman in his late 60’s, there because he wanted to kill himself. His partner had died 5 years before and he was tired of being alone. His friends were all gone and he was in bad health due to HIV and diabetes.  All he wanted to do was see his soulmate again.  He tried to kill himself by taking one of his insulin needles to pump air into a vein to cause a heart attack.  He passed out from the pain before he could accomplish this goal.

Another patient, a mother of three, was laid off work and she was having a hard time finding a job about the same time her husband was released from prison. He started using and dealing drugs and infected her with HIV that he contracted in prison.  She decided to turn to prostitution so that she could feed her kids. Once she received notice that her HIV was now full blown AIDS, she turned to heroin and purposely overdosed so she would not have to face her children.

While hearing these stories I started to ask myself, “What the hell am I doing here?” The therapist asked me what I did that got me sent there. I stated this was my second time trying to commit suicide by overdosing, I felt like that my life was going downhill fast, I didn’t know who or what I was, and I saw myself as a failure, both as a marine and as a human.

As time went on I started to realize that everyone in the hospital with me was completely different, yet we all made decisions based on our own circumstances. During the visitations, I saw how each person’s family acted, who visited, and who didn’t.  It started to make me realize that no matter what, I have my family and that’s what life was  - having loved ones close to you.

From that moment on I decided to take the negatives and turn them into positives. I missed my family, I wanted to see my nephew, I wanted to get out of that hospital and start turning things around.

I still struggle with depression. To say that I’m fixed is far from the truth. I’ve learned ways to cope with my problems and issues, though.  When I look back on my time in Beaumont, I’m thankful for having been there and going through what I did because I realized that nothing is that hard to deal with when I have family, friends, and loved ones around.  If I was successful in ending my life, I would not have seen my nephew or niece, I would have never met so many wonderful people in my life, and I wouldn’t be here writing this and sharing my experiences or helping others through theirs.

Never give up hope

.

ACT Community Health Forum
HIV AND THE EFFECTS OF OTHER CONDITIONS

Wednesday February 15th.  2012   7-9pm.

Eastern time also via web cast: www.actornto.org/forum

Ramada Plaza Hotel. 300 Jarvis Street
Toronto

 

Saturday morning, December 3, 2011. I am sitting in a "checking in" circle at a Facilitation Training weekend event. I sit with my feet planted flat on the floor, sitting up straight, hands on my thighs with palms up and relaxed, eyes closed. I am instructed to breathe deep through my nose, hold a few seconds then blow out and make noise while exhaling.

The facilitator then instructs us to visualize when we were young, to see our loving parents caring and guiding us, vision ourselves crafting our jar, or something, filling it with pure clean water, then visualize our family, grandparents.......and then I lose it. I snap out of it. I can't go any further. I sit and wait for the exercise to end. When it does we are asked to express what the experience meant to us. There are 30 plus people in the room. Someone five chairs to my left starts to tell us what it meant to him, then he passes it to his left. Now there are about 25 people to speak before my turn comes.

Each person relates their thoughts. Some are happy memories, some are sad  - and I am boiling up as I stir in my seat. My blood pressure feels like it’s rising to the point my ears plug up. I take one deep breath after another but there is this pounding in my ears that makes it hard to hear. I'm glad I have the time to think of what I am going to share when my time comes. I look to the others as support, that their stories are happier or worse than mine so I can just say it and get it out.

It must have taken at least 20 minutes to get to me. I'm not sure. Time was oblivious at this point. When I opened my mouth, I just blurted out "the experience for me was the exact opposite". I wasn't seeing the perfect family, my father had left me and my mother when I was 3 or four years old, the jar of water became the bottle of milk that was thrown at my mother as I stood beside her. It smashed against the wall behind us.

As I describe it all, tears start flooding from my eyes. I'm stunned; this doesn't happen. I have told this story many times and it’s never happened like this before. Now I feel like I'm on the spot, everyone is looking at me. Some looked questioning, some look supportive and most don't know what to think or do. I feel good being amongst them. I hear the facilitators speak and tell the others to “breathe”.

When the exercise ended the facilitators shared with me the fact that these things can happen in those circles, something might trigger emotions that need to be addressed. They told me I had just gone very deep in to my state of "Self"- or something like that.

Not too long ago on PositiveLite.Com I wrote about how my story wasn't as traumatic as others/ I wrote about growing up and being molested, writing without having these feelings - to me they didn't exist. Well I guess this was an awakening of sorts; they are just buried deep but some managed to come out. I had no idea it would come out that way, that I would be crying as it did.

I was able to talk more about it in another exercise while talking about "triggers" - how during a facilitation, what one person might talk about can trigger a thought or memory in someone else in the group. I shared with everyone how I had sat through the "check in" circle the day before, how I felt like the kettle on the stove with the cork in it. The facilitators asked why I didn't just get up and leave the room; it was allowed. I was frozen I guess, I felt I had to get it out. The guy who had been sitting beside me shared that he had felt my energy but couldn't identify what it was. He said he could feel this intense heat coming from me but he had no idea why it was happening. The facilitators were very curious about what they should look for in the future from me because I took them by complete surprise.

I see myself as someone who can bottle things up very well, so well I could run a bottling company. I am also guilty of minimalizing my life in comparison to others. I will always be grateful for what I have because so many have less, but I don't have everything I need. Many of my supporters and friends have tried to drill into me that my story is just as important as theirs.

There are some very relevant feelings here that I need to attend to. I have to stop telling everyone I am alright all the time; it’s clear to me now I’m not. I will practice saying, “I am good and I'm working on getting much better”. I am going to add this experience to my list for the doctor tomorrow.