Inside the Memory Box

Here's one story about yesterday:

http://www.timescolonist.com/news/Hundreds+rally+better+mental+health+services/5384402/story.html

On September 10, in Victoria BC, about 300 people gathered in honour of Word Wide Suicide Prevention Day. The image you see here is our Memory Box, in which the intrepid Tara Timmers carried our hopes all the way from our adult psychiatric hospital to the lawns of the Legislature. Once there, many wrote messages, or names and other memories on scraps of paper, there was even a small photograph dropped into the box. I've read every one and was moved to tears many, many times. These scraps of memory will go to Ottawa in the envelope containing our petitions and letters. 

I've been working hard since then to make myself remember yesterday. I noticed about 4 or 5 hours after I got home the entire day (as is usual since I hit my head 6 years ago), had begun to disappear. In the same way a vivid dream that I think I couldn't possibly forget does after I wake up. I began to get those feelings of self-recrimination, fear, anxiety, depression replace the joy I could now only dimly sense had been there. It just wasn't fair! I really wanted to remember this day of all days and was annoyed at that part of me that had kicked in, seeming to want to punish me for feeling happiness.

It occurred to me I might have a chance to fix this if the memory issue is a chronic anti-stress response. That maybe I could train myself to remember. I spent most of the evening "walking" mentally through the day, from start to finish. I noticed there were vignette moments that had stuck, so I made myself logically go thru the missing sections with prompts from long term memory. Like picturing a particular street corner I am familiar with. 

It worked, sort of. I was able to bring back a lot of it. It's still got that TV effect but the images are there. And I am so thankful today for Daphne's, Hugh's and Erika's photographs to fill in the rest. The best part has been some of the good feelings I had in those moments came back, again, dimly and movie-like, kind of once removed but there. 

I tried a tactic I heard about from people who treat people like me with dissociative identities, or what I refer to in myself as my splinters. I had a long talk with that part of myself I theorized might be masking all the memories in order to safely block any dangerous ones. I used a commanding but motherly tone, speaking out loud about how it is okay to trust myself to deal with feelings, that an adult is in charge now. That the child in me could finally let go of her vigilance. This exhausted childhood part of me is where I think the more persistent post traumatic stress symptoms come from. 

I never had a functioning adult in my life as a child and only came into an understanding of what it means to be an adult once I got my addictions under control after the accident. Feelings are not something I access anymore for evaluating a given situation.

From some reason yesterdays exposure to all those people cut through to some deep wounding inside me. I felt completely at home with everyone there, it felt natural as breathing to speak to them and to have them speak to me. Not an ounce of agoraphobic reactions after a bit of nausea at the very beginning. 

The best part of the exercise in remembering was when the memories of watching the women speak came flooding back. I can "see" their hand gripping the microphone, "hear" their voices shake with emotion, I can "feel" their passion. Watching them as mentors: Denise Savoie , Hazel Meredith and Erika Rolston and reliving the experience of watching them will make my job easier to do now because remembering is learning. 

Timing

I suppose starting a Blog wasn't such a good idea right in the middle of organizing a major event to which 1,200 people are invited. Too bad. I absolutely loved thinking about and writing the first two (or was it three?) entries and have only limped by here today to beg your patience. Let's get this baby 'dots' thing and rally settled and then we'll see. Timing and balance, mutually dependent on each other for best results. Later!
P.S. These little turtles live near where I paint sometimes in summer, at a place called Beacon Hill Park in Victoria, BC

Taming the Dragon

This little fellow popped out onto my canvas one day years ago. Not sure where he came from, he's far from my usual style (and I almost never use orange when painting)...I thought of him suddenly when pondering today's entry--in honour of the Dragon Boat Racing Festival in town this weekend.

The dragon in this context symbolizes the Canadian mental health system. I can hear my favourite writing instructor at Camosun College saying "Jean, too big a subject! Focus! Focus!" Except she would not get excited because she also discourages excessive use of exclamation points (!)

Lack of focus in this system is the point. Focusing long term and effective resources on mental health will lead to a time when suicide is not considered an option many Canadians consider as treatment for mental health pain.

A dragon boat has 10 paddlers who to win must listen to the beat of the drummer in the bow. Every stroke in unison. The stern controls the direction the canoe goes in. The team of 12 people practise with a commitment that would exhaust an Olympiad. Why? For the common cause of beating the beast that is cancer forever into defeat while we celebrate the lives of survivors and lost cancer leaves in its wake.

It's not much of a stretch to imagine what good would come of a similar focus on mental health by our Provincial and Territory leaders.

Today the dragon's eye on each boat in our gorgeous inner harbour is painted red, to awaken the dragon. Our human chain on September 10, this World Wide Suicide Prevention Day, is our chance to paint the eye red, to awaken the dragon and get its attention.

Belief

Belief is so much more useful than hope. Hope easily dissolves under too much stress, whereas belief, by its very nature, can only grow. Hope disappoints, belief stabilizes. Belief knows, hope, well, can only hope.