Pain is Pain is Pain

I'd intended to write about something else altogether today, but a couple of things happened that decided a change of topic. I've been on a bit of a Stephen Fry kick - watched Stephen Fry in America earlier this year and absolutely loved it, watched the last episode of Last Chance to See this past weekend and immediately wanted to start again from the beginning the minute I'd finished the series and then moved onto Stephen Fry: The Secret Life of a Manic Depressive (that links to part one on YouTube - you can watch the entire thing there and I highly recommend you do). And yesterday, I watched a momversation entitled Overcoming Depression and really, how much more obvious does it get?

I know a number of people who are depressed. Not just sad or out of sorts because they're having a bad day, but chronically depressed, brain chemistry out of whack kind of depressed. Some of them are on medication and much better than they were, some are on medication and a little bit better than they were and some haven't gotten to the point where they're ready for that yet. And part of the reason that they're not - and part of the reason that some of the people who are taking meds wish they could get off them - is the stigma that comes with it.

Just as a number of physical conditions that are invisible, depression can't be seen. And just as I tend to rant about the suspicions surrounding the experience of pain that can't be seen or can't be tested for, so am I about to do a rant about the stereotypes surrounding mental illness. The stiff upper lip doesn't just apply to being in physical pain, but also to emotional pain - pull up your socks, get a grip, try harder. But no matter how you try, it's not possible to get better with a change of attitude. Watching that five-minute momversation is an incredible education into what depression does to a life. It shows you that even if your life is wonderful on paper, there can be a disconnect making it impossible to escape the sense of "crushing despair". Mindy described deep depression as "intolerable pain... so unbearable and so excruciating that the only way you can think of to make it stop is to stop living."

Stephen Fry's documentary about manic depression is longer (two hours), but does the same thing. Shows you more effectively than anything else what living with bipolar disorder is like - if I were teaching psychiatry or abnormal psychology, I would make it mandatory to watch this movie. I've read about bipolar disorder, I've known people with bipolar disorder and believed I sort of knew, but I had no idea. I only knew the clinical picture, I had no idea what it was like living with it and even if you just want to learn about depression, you should watch it, too. Yes, there are segments about mania, as well, but in its exploration of the total picture of the disease, the parts about the pain of depression are so eloquent that I feel as if I finally know - as much as I can know, without experiencing chronic depression myself.

And chronic is a really good term, can bridge the gap between the invisible and visible, can draw similarities between depression and say, RA or diabetes. No one expects someone with diabetes to manage their disease without insulin. No one expects me to manage my RA without medications like Humira. Then why is there so much judgment of those who are depressed that so many people end up being miserable all their lives or killing themselves because to ask for help, to take medication is so shameful? I think we should flip it. I think we should start saying in that judge someone because they have a disease, whether physical or mental, is shameful. And maybe if we started using the language of the physical disease and started talking a lot about it, understanding would come, as well. A friend of mine and I talk of flares, of my RA and their depression and it has helped a great deal to normalize our mutual experiences within our relationship. Given us a code to describe to each other how we feel, but also given us a keyword we can use when we notice the other is having a bad time and in this way, we help to remind each other to increase our medication when we flare without judgment. It's normal, it's "just a flare", but it is just between us, because there are risks for my friend should they decide to be honest about the disease. Risks that are I do not face.

Again, the social pressure to silence your experience of pain is not doing anyone any favors. It makes people with RA not ask the doctor for painkillers and it makes people who experience the pain of depression not ask their doctor for medication to manage their pain.

And it makes me wonder all over again why our culture will not allow people to be in pain….

Giving & Receiving Care: The Challenges

This week on MyRACentral, I ponder giving and receiving care:

"What does it do to a relationship if you can't storm off in a huff after a fight with your significant other because you may need to help them go to the bathroom first? And what does it do to a relationship if you feel you can't get angry at your partner because you’ll need to pee in an hour and can’t get your pants off without help?"

The rest of that post is here.

Hold Outs

A Rose by Any Other Name

A couple of days ago, I watched this Momversation about the way children address adults, which contained an astounding number women at least a decade younger than I am, if not more holding forth about how kids addressing adults by their last name (e.g. Mrs. Smith, Mr. Jones) is an essential form of manners, of showing respect and something that they insist on from the kids’ friends, going so far as to link kids calling adults by their first names to not showing adults to respect they apparently deserve merely by the fact of being adult.

And I am gobsmacked.

I was born in 1962 and as a kid growing up, my generation called adults by first names and the familiar du instead of the more formal De (like French, German and many other languages, Danish has two versions of the word you), although there was a distinction made - people my grandparents age were addressed by Mrs. and Mr. last name and formal De, not necessarily because of their age, but because they grew up at a time where this was the way you did things and we respected that. Starting in grade 1, our teachers were addressed by first name and when I went to university, so were the professors there. Coming to Canada in 1982 when I was 20, I was flabbergasted by the level of formality - it was Mrs. This and Professor Such and Such and it's been one of the hardest things to get used to in this new country of mine (is it still ‘new’ if I’ve been here longer than I lived in Denmark?).

And here's the thing... looking back on my own childhood this informality did nothing to affect the level of respect paid to adults. Adults were respected automatically and come to think of it, everyone automatically received respect, regardless of age (until they proved that they didn't deserve it). The form of address absolutely nothing to do with the level of respect given and as Heather Armstrong says in that particular momversation mentioned, it's about teaching your kids how to interact appropriately with other people, including giving and showing respect and we're right back to manners again…

Because that's what it's about, isn't it? Manners give you a code of behaviour by which you navigate the world showing consideration for other human beings. Whether it’s not wearing a hat inside or chewing with your mouth open,. being polite (to everyone), helping to clear the table after dinner, filling up the gas tank when you borrow a friend’s car, knocking on the door before you enter a room or respecting the wisdom, experience or position of your doctor, your teacher, your friend's mother (etc., etc.), I don’t believe any of those are intrinsically linked to what type of address you use.

Your thoughts?

I will be on The Biggshow on Talk 820 tomorrow, November 3, at 1:30pm talking about living with RA.

Random October

Before we get to the silly, a brilliant piece found via Broadsides describing women’s experience when meeting men they don’t know: Schrödinger’s Rapist. Yes, it really is like that.

And on healthcare reform, Paul Hipp sings about international standings, a wonderful animated presentation of the reform argument in a nutshell (found on Nilchance) and Patti posted a link to Roger Ebert writing about extremism and the lunatic fringe.

And after that, we could all use a little silly, so here's the Trampoline Dog (found over at Gaina's), check out what's happened to automotive safety over the last 50 years or so and Carrie sent the video of the dancing baby which almost makes That Song (the name by which I refer to Beyonce's Single Ladies) tolerable. And then I found this article from Time mentioning how not only did the video when Best Song at Nickelodeon's Kids’ Choice Awards (and someone please restrain me from having a rant about kids choosing as best song this pile of patriarchal idiocy with accompanying semi-pornographical dreck of a video), but the alleged reporter - aren't you supposed to think for yourself instead of merely parroting others to be a reporter? - writing the piece refers to it as the "female-independence anthem" and that's the point where I need sedation ("say I'm the one you own" hardly qualifies as INDE-FREAKIN'-PENDENCE, does it now?) and before I start foaming at the mouth again, I'm moving onto this piece about the latest WTF lawsuit.

This month, Trevor contributed a wonderful ad, a picture of a foundation that seems a little out of touch with its mandate, another one of a truly multitasking business and It Made My Day (look forward to losing hours of your life).

LynnM sent two great links: Art in a war zone and a sign language language special (stuffed sweet apostle was my favorite).

This

see more Political Pictures

is supposedly soldiers in the Ukranian army. How on earth are you supposed to fight in miniskirts and heels? Huh??

David(G) contributed a bit of a flurry. Best landscape photography of 2009 (seems a little UK-centric and is 2009 over already?) and best buds. An illustration of what happens when you procrastinate, that ad with the step piano (why aren't all staircases like that), John Lloyd talks about the invisible (really interesting), building the Triumph Rocket III and the humping parrot - keep an eye out for that series, it's incredible. And since the exhibit is coming down tomorrow, here’s a panorama taken/created by David of the thing. Click to embiggen or check out the set on my Flickr page.

Have a great weekend!

Changing

Blogs, Communities and Meeting Friends

I'm reading Roadside Crosses, another Jeffery Deaver book, this one a spin-off of sorts from the Lincoln Rhyme novels. Our main character is Kathryn Dance, a kinesics expert who works for the California Bureau of Investigation and really, exactly what the book is about is irrelevant (except to say that when every time an emotion is mentioned, you back it up with kinesics, it’s not as fun as forensics). The Internet plays a part, specifically blogs and although Deaver tries to do his usual factual background thing, every now and again there's a not-so-subtle disdain leaking through. Aside from Dance never having heard of blogs - and what person who is even vaguely connected to the world these days hasn't? – the sense is that writing blogs is for weird people. Described – and I kid you not – as “excrementalists”. And I’m officially taking offense.

Sure, the internet has provided an astounding amount of erm… unusual people with a communication outlet that they didn’t have before the internet, but blogs have also given tons of talented people an audience they wouldn’t have before the internet. And pertinent to where I’m going with this, created communities and friendships. It may be new, it may have been unusual, but it ain't weird.

Thanks to blogs, I have friends I’ve never met. Close friends. People I care about, people I’d never have met if it hadn't been for the Internet and blogs. People who became my social life at a time when I didn't have the energy to leave my house. And every now and again, I get to meet one of them in person.

Last Thursday, I went to Toronto Women's Bookstore for Laurie’s book launch (take two) and had a very good time. On the way there, I realized that I didn't really know what Laurie looks like and worried that I wouldn't recognize her, only to instantly know her when I came into the store and saw her literally across a crowded room (the term sardines came to mind – small store, good turnout). She just emanated Laurie and it was great to meet her in person after ages of reading each other's blogs. I’ve only read bits so far (it’s a regular book and they give me trouble) - hearing her read parts of her book

was wonderful and added another dimension to it (and may I humbly suggest to the publisher that they consider an audio book, preferably read by the author, so I can read the whole thing?).

And just before heading home, I popped around the corner to take some pictures of Notre Dame Cathedral (okay, so it's Knox Presbyterian Church, but in the dark, it looked positively Parisian).





Quasimodo, is that you?