healing from depression

I'm not going to write one of those Fifty Things you Don't Know About Me posts, sorry! I'm happy with the parts of my life and self that I share here, and I'm happy to keep really personal things private, too. I always share from my heart here, I think you know that! It doesn't mean I have to share everything.

There is one thing you don't know about me, though, that I do feel it's time to share. Because I think my sharing might bring some inspiration and hope, and because I think this is something that needs a lot more light shining on it, and a lot more of us talking truth about it.

Here it is:
I live with depression.
To be exact, I live with Chronic Episodic Major Depressive Disorder.

Notice I say 'live with,' not 'suffer from.'  Depression has been a part of my life on and off since I was a child. I've learned how to move from 'suffering from' to 'living with.' And for the last number of years, through grace and extreme self-care, I have discovered what it means to truly be free of depression. And that's really why I want to share this with you - because I have learned a thing or two on this journey. A thing or two that might help.

Because I know that some of you beauties reading this are living with - or suffering from - depression too. And I know some of you may even be in a place of wondering when and if you will ever feel the beauty of life again. And I know how lonely that can be.

And of course some of you reading this have never experienced depression. And that is so wonderful and beautiful and I am so so glad for you! But don't stop reading - because chances are, sometime, someone in your life will suffer from depression, and you'll have a chance to be a lifeline for that person - you can be that rare someone who is well-informed about what they're going through -  you can be someone who may be able to reach out.

The tag line of this blog is 'finding the beauty in every day.'  It is a sweet sentiment, and maybe you have assumed it is a light hearted reminder to stop and smell the flowers. And it is! You KNOW I love to smell the flowers. And pick them. And photograph them. And share them with you! But 'finding the beauty in every day' is also a deep and important reminder to me of how far I have come in my healing, and how important it is for me to stay present and deeply care for myself - so I can continue to find the beauty.

Depression is cruel. Of all the cruelties it inflicts, (even crueller than filling you with anxiety, anger, and self-loathing, even crueller than robbing you of the energy to conduct the simplest of tasks, even crueller than isolating you from those you love...) of all the cruelties, I think of the worst is this: Depression will rob you of your ability to take pleasure in life.

Clinically, this is called anhedonia - the inability to experience pleasure. And let me tell you, this is much, much worse than it sounds. You may not realize that how very much pleasure you derive from the tiniest things in life - until those pleasures vanish. Without small pleasures (not to mention the big ones) life is frighteningly empty.

This is why celebrating the beauty of every day is important to me! This is why I am so driven to create and share moments of pleasure and beauty. This stuff is not trivial. It is the very essence of being.

So I am adding a new series to the blog today - this is the first installment. It's going to be a series about living with depression - but I promise you it won't be depressing! I want to share what I have learned on my own road back to health, and I want to share inspiration for you, if you are just beginning to learn to live with (and stop suffering from) depression.

I would be most honoured to hear your comments on this post, especially if you are on a journey with depression yourself.

nurturing creativity: how do you spend your days?

I used to structure my days in such a way that I did all my "important" work in the mornings. The work I deemed "important" in this sense was business correspondence, marketing work, production work, work for others, billable hours. The time that was "left over" I spent on creative work, and on the rare occasion that there was still more time "left over," I would spend it on self-care.

This isn't surprising - it's how we are trained by our society to structure our time.

The problem is, with this structure,
my business wasn't thriving, and neither was I.

So I did the logical thing - I tried to fix myself so I could fit better into this structure.

Still my business wasn't thriving, and neither was I.

Sometime during the last six months, as I moved through many transformations,
I realized why:


1. Success depends on creativity
2. I was living on leftovers
3. I needed to re-define "important."

So I tried an experiment: I turned my workday upside-down. I started with self-care in the morning, then moved on to creative work. With whatever time was leftover, I tackled administrative and production tasks.

Guess what?

It's working.

I'm not saying this was an easy shift. I'm still working on it, and it's hard. Why is it hard? Not because I'm not getting my "work" done - in fact, I think I'm more productive. No. It's hard because of the VOICES IN MY HEAD.

I'm not talking DSM-III certifiable voices. I'm talking about the ones we all have to some degree or another - some call this the "inner critic," but I think that's way too gentle a term for this inner whatever that seems to derive pleasure from shaming and sabotaging me.

The upside? I get to come face to face with the inner patterns that have kept me from my best work and my best life, because girl they get LOUD for a while when you start to shift in the direction of your dreams.

Anyway, I've spent the last little while refining the pattern of my days:

Every work day I spend my mornings on creative work, and I allow myself to jump from one thing to the next, because for me, this is an important element of creativity. I might write a blog post, do some graphic design for my websites, work on a new tile design, research imagery for sculpture, browse jewelry materials online for inspiration, or go for a photo excursion. (Or take photos of the gorgeous bunches of peonies I brought home the other day!) All these things are FUN, and all of them move my business forward - wow, who knew?

Every afternoon, I give the inner critic some satisfaction by spending disciplined time taking care of the nuts and bolts of life and business; finances, emails, marketing, coding, or glazing 500 of the same tile. And I'll tell you this - I enjoy these aspects of my work sooo much more now that I don't feel resentful that they're pulling me away from the work I love.

So how can YOU apply this principle of putting creativity and self-care FIRST?
(And NO, this principle is NOT just for people who are self-employed, people who are artists, people with grown kids, people who live on islands, people with their own studios, other people - YES I can hear your excuses for not putting creativity and self-care FIRST in your own life.)

Maybe you can't turn your whole day upside down like I did, but I know there are baby steps you can make towards prioritizing creativity and self-care.

Did you hear that part? It's important. I said
I know there are baby steps you can make today towards prioritizing creativity and self-care.

Tell me one baby step you'll take today in the comments or on my new Facebook Page.

how to show up for your life

I recently read a post over at The Daily Love about the importance of showing up - for your life, your dreams, your ambitions. It got me thinking.

The instruction on TDL was to show up daily for our dreams. I like this. And I agree.  Be present with and for yourself. Be consistent, have integrity, do your thing daily.

But the instruction opened some questions for me too.

I don't know how it's done now, but when I was growing up, our teachers kept big brown spiral bound leatherette books on their desks. The books contained ledger sheets, the ledger sheets contained names and next to the names so many tiny boxes, one for each day of the school year, to be filled with checkmarks or codes which signified Present, Absent, or Tardy, Excused or Unexcused.

There were big social rewards, prizes, and public acknowledgements for having a Perfect Attendance Record - that is, showing up every day and never being Tardy. I think it was OK to have a very occasional Excused Absence for something like going to get your allergy shots or attending your grandmother's funeral. A Perfect Attendance Record was an admirable social accomplishment, something for which both teachers and other kids admired you. It was unlike the accomplishment of a Perfect Report Card, for which teachers and parents loved you, but which made you an object of suspicion and sometimes scorn among your peers.

In case you haven't already figured it out, I had a perfect report card and a very spotty attendance record.

I was an anxious child and a misfit, and I had a very difficult and often chaotic home life.
Showing Up Daily and Not Being Tardy was pretty much out of reach for me. Straight A's were not. I was smart, and I loved to be lost in books, and homework was something I could control.

For many, many years beyond my childhood, my life reflected this formative experience with Showing Up. Showing up for personal accomplishments and creations was easy. I made amazing, straight-A stuff.

Showing up in simple ways for other people, or for powerful social structures, was way harder, because of a difficult and often chaotic inner life; the ghost of my childhood home life.

Through deep healing, I have begun to learn how to show up in all the important ways in my life - I've taught myself the simple consistency and discipline that leads to the equivalent of a decent attendance record, which in turn makes the wheels of life turn more smoothly; my bills are payed and I've met my deadlines.  And I feel blessed that I learned very early in life to show up daily for my inner work and creativity, for imagination and contemplation.

I believe showing up in BOTH of these ways is key to a well-lived and artful life.
I also see that my own particular journey is perhaps not the norm. I think many of us learn early that getting all the boxes ticked in that big ledger can bring a measure of ease, and some nice social rewards. So we may go through life efficiently showing up and ticking the boxes and reaping the rewards, but then also wondering about a lack of spaciousness, an absence of passion, a subtle sense of disconnection which haunts us despite our apparently thorough consistency and integrity.

So, here's my advice: by all means tick the boxes. Keep your word, pay your taxes, do your job in the world. Do it mindfully, and with love. This is essential. But don't make the job of ticking the boxes SO BIG that your life becomes small.
Showing up is essential. But just showing up won't get you there. Be discerning about what you show up for. Be mindful of how you show up, and why. Here's what I want my Showing Up to be:

I want to practice a kind of showing up for life that opens me to the spacious beauty of being, not a showing up that distracts me with more ambitious do-do-doing.

I want to practice showing up for the true vastness of my dreams of possibility, not for the binding ambitions of my ego.

I want to practice a showing up for others that opens my deep heart of compassion and allows the pouring out of my true gifts, not a showing up that merely adds lines to my Resume of Good Deeds.

I want to create a consistency that is gorgeously rhythmic, not numbingly mechanistic.

I want to create an integrity that reflects a wholeness of heart, not just an ability to connect the dots (or tick the boxes.)

I want to practice a showing up that is deep, soft, and forgiving. 

How do you want to show up for your life?

Something You Need To Know About Living With an Open Heart

 best accessories: my handmade vintage button jewelry, fresh flowers, and an open, loving heart.

Hello Beautiful,

There's
Something You Need To Know About Living With an Open Heart:
Expect to be uncomfortable.
Expect, even, to be in pain.

Something else you need to know:
This doesn't need to be a problem.

Ten years ago I fulfilled a lifelong dream and went to live and study art in Florence for a season. That city is one of the great loves of my life, and I was breathing joy every day. But: cobblestone streets+new Italian shoes+walking everywhere=constantly sore feet. My feet were relentlessly sore, they were bruised and blistered, they just always hurt.

One morning I was standing in an empty church admiring (read: getting completely ecstatically lost in) the frescoes. It was all so perfectly beautiful; the nearly physical ecstasy of being with that art, the smell of dust, incense, and old stone mingling with my tuberose perfume, the feel of the cool stony air on my sunwarmed skin, it was one of so many perfect moments I treasured during that time - but my feet were making me miserable. My feet were literally throbbing. My feet were raw. My feet were ruining everything.

It was getting to the point where that whole summer was going to be about my miserable feet; it was going to be about how this stupid, mundane but relentless pain spoiled my dream. That was going to be my story.  But something stubborn and loving kicked in for me standing in that church...

NO, I thought, No. This is my dream, but it's also real life, which means there's discomfort. It's not perfect like a daydream. It's more, it's better, because it's real. 

And in the real version, there's pain. And I have a choice. I can fight the pain, separate it out from the rest of the experience, try to ignore it, spend tons of energy trying to fix it. I can allow my self-pity to dominate, I can resist the pain, and I can miss everything else about this experience by that obsessing, resisting, fighting, and fixing.

OR
I can roll it in with the rest of the experience. 
Not in a grin and bear the one bad thing kind of way, but in a way that acknowledges that every ingredient in the recipe is essential. The warm sun. The cool church. The paintings. My ecstasy. My perfume. My sore feet. It's all one experience, each part is essential, and  
I can love the whole experience, not just the parts that don't hurt.

From that moment on, when my pain threatened to make me miserable while eating gelato on the street or climbing the hills for an amazing view of the city or sitting in the Opera in high heels or...

I just took a deep breath and reminded myself this pain is part of the whole experience. I love the whole experience. I accept the whole experience.  This sounds so simple - and I guess it is - but it is a formula that worked beautifully for me.  My pain didn't go away, but my misery did.

The glories of Florence became the perfect laboratory for this experiment in living whole, in living acceptance - the ecstasies were rare enough, the pain was mild enough, my senses were heightened enough, and I was so stubbornly determined to experience the joy - this allowed me to learn the lesson well:  
I can love the whole experience, not just the parts that don't hurt.

outside the Church of the Sore Feet

I learned it so well that I was able to bring it back into my mundane non-Italian life where I may not have great art and gelato every day, where the potential ectstasies are sometimes a little less obvious, and where the pain can be a lot worse than the pain of raw blisters. 

But the truth is, every moment of every day can be like that perfect moment in that Florentine church, if I allow my heart to be open, if  I accept the wholeness of the situation, if I allow each ingredient of the moment to blend, and if I don't try to separate the pain from all the rest of it.

That tuberose scented moment has become a touchstone for me, the memory has a soft sheen from being taken out and lovingly used so often. When the pain threatens to ruin things, when the self-pity threatens to engulf me, I go back there and breathe in the stony air of that sacred place, and I remember: 

Roll it all together. Be in the the wholeness of the experience. Let the joy live side by side with the pain, creating that complex blending of feelings that characterize a fully lived life. 

When have you had the opportunity to roll it all together? How do you live a joyful life with pain? Or a painful life with joy? What are your touchstones of wholeness?

filling the well, smelling the roses

Intoxicatingly fragrant bourbon roses from my garden, in a Blossomware tumbler from Terra Home. Taken last year on Summer Solstice.

It's a holiday today here in Canada, our May long weekend, actually Victoria Day, but usually just called "the maylong." I like that, the idea of stretching and having time to sink deeper into my favourite, luscious month of May. 

Right now I have several critical deadlines looming, a long list of personal projects I've committed to, and several tile orders waiting patiently for me to glaze them. But I opted to take the whole three day weekend off. It's part of my new strategy of self-care. Weekends off.

Sticking to this resolution has been difficult in ways I had not expected. They say you teach people how to treat you, and apparently I have spent the last several years teaching people that I am constantly available, by answering business e-mails on weekend evenings, scheduling meetings for Saturdays, committing to ridiculously short deadlines and a bunch of other things I did primarily to prove to people how worthy and hard working I was. Do you ever do this?

"Sure, I can finish that for you on Sunday evening" is likely to be received with  a big smile and a compliment about how hard-working you are. I know this from long experience. Telling people "No, I won't be finishing that for you til Tuesday. Weekends are my sacred self-care time" is, I am learning, likely to get a less than enthusiastic response.

But I am forging ahead. Hoping to be a good example. I mean, the idea of a sacred day every week for self and family, rest and gratitude, isn't actually a new idea.


I do love to be busy and engaged. I love my work, and I love to create and accomplish things. And as much as I strive to be connected to the cyclical nature of life, and respect natural rhythms, I still get caught up in the idea that I don't need down time, dormant time, do-nothing time, or rest. Or worse - that if I am not producing or accomplishing, I am wasting time. 


How many times do I need to learn this lesson?


We live on four acres on a rural island, so our water comes from our very own well. The characteristics and status of one's  well is a common topic of conversation on the island, especially in the summer. "How's your well?" Some wells are shallow, others are deep. Some water has lots of sulfer, some has iron. One characteristic all wells share is that they will occasionally run dry. Some run out frequently, just from doing one too many loads of laundry. Others will only run out at the height of the dry season, or if you accidentally leave the hose on.

So if your well runs dry, there's nothing for it but to wait. Eventually, the groundwater (that great magical clean underground reservoir of glacial run off, flowing through dark caverns, even under the sea to get to us, just imagine!) eventually, the groundwater restores the well. This may take two hours or two days, and there is nothing to do but wait.

Sometimes the well runs dry and people keep trying to use the water. You know what happens then?  The pump burns out. Right? Then not only do you have to wait for the well to restore, you have to call someone to come repair your poor burned out pump.

I would love to visit this amazing cavern in Mexico!

Right at this moment, I feel dangerously close to burning out the pump. But I'm not going to let it happen this time. Learning, like everything else, is cyclical, and this time around, I've gained just a bit more wisdom about how to keep my balance, and when and how to give time for the great mysterious infinite  reservoir, the groundwater of our lives, to restore me.

Now, I am off to do nothing in particular for the rest of this glorious day.

And you? How will you tap the reservoir?

some days you need a little comfort

these tulips were 3.99 at the grocery store. they sat on my desk all week and brought me infinite pleasure. always bring home flowers.

Hello Beautiful,

How is today? Is today a beautiful, exciting, artful, creative day for you? I really hope it is. And I hope that many, many of your days are beautiful, exciting, artful, and creative. And peaceful. And full of ease.

And I know, some of your days are not. Some days are sad, rushed, messy, and difficult. In fact, if you are like most women, I would guess a substantial proportion of your days are rushed, messy, and difficult.

Today was that day for me. You know that day, when you wake up with paper thin skin, you're in the mood to remember your childhood wounds, and the smallest criticism can set your boat rocking for the rest of the day? Well, today my skin is thin, my scars are tender, and my boat is rocking. Everything's OK - just the same as it was yesterday, when I was feeling deliciously optimistic and cheerful. It's just... that day. So what do you do when you find yourself in the midst of that day?

In one of the lovely on-line circles I belong to, there's been discussion lately of what we can do to nurture ourselves on that day. I love seeing each woman's list of little creature comforts, and it's remarkable, really, how simple those comforts can be, and how universal some of them are. So here are a few ideas. For next time you are having that day.

 Some universal comforts, tried and true, tested by women over the centuries:

• take a hot bath
• prepare and quietly drink a steamy cup of tea
• have a heart to heart with a woman friend
• spend time in nature, near water
• engage in prayer
• prepare and eat your ancestral comfort food
• light candles
• fluff your pillows and make your space smell good
• listen to music that you love
• move your body 
• cuddle your pet
• write freely in your journal
• give your nearest loved one a very long hug
• raise your eyes to the sky and take a long, slow, deep breath.

If you work your way through this list, by the time you get to the long, slow, deep breath, you'll be feeling so, so much better.

Now, I'm off to take a hot bath.

P.S. Oh! On a more festive note... I wanted to let you all know about the *highlight* of my weekend - my wonderful chat with beautiful Tranquilista Kimberly Wilson, for her podcast Tranquility du Jour. We delved into all the delicious details of the Seven Keys to an Artful Life, while our black pugs each snored on our respective laps. Have a listen. It was such a fun conversation.

what would love do?

I heard this question in a podcast this morning. What a great reminder to come from a place of love whenever possible. Lately I have been exploring the idea of "being kind to myself"... such a trite thing, we have heard it a thousand and eight times, yet most of us don't attempt it as a daily practice. Do you? What would it really mean for you to begin to treat yourself with kindness, compassion, and forgiveness? What would change about your inner and outer worlds?

sunday morning = goddess time: make self care a priority today

 Sunday Morning = Goddess Time! 

Here's what it's all about: I've been engaging in this practice for a while now, but listening to this podcast gave me a name for it... goddess time. Yes! This is a practice for busy women with lots of responsibilities and demands on their time and person. (That's pretty much all of us, right?) Here's how it works for me. On Sunday morning, my time is my own. No one else (including my internal taskmaster) can tell me what do, or even make requests. No phone. No e-mail. It could be a walk, or yoga, or blogging, or a wander in the garden, but usually it's bed, tea, scented candle, journal, pens, huge stack of books and magazines, plus the little dog who thoroughly approves of mornings in bed. I've worked to make my bedroom feel like a little sanctuary, so I relish this *free* time I get to spend there. It makes the whole week easier. Where can you fit some goddess time into your life?
 

p.s. My Seven Weeks to an Artful Life e-course is beginning in a few short weeks. Self-care, and creating time for self and creativity, will be a big part of our learning in the course! I'd love it if you'd consider joining us.

how to make time for self care: create Goddess Time!

late summer flowers my sweetie brought home from the farmer's market

Sunday Morning = Goddess Time! 

Here's what it's all about: I've been engaging in this practice for a while now, but listening to this podcast gave me a name for it... goddess time. Yes! This is a practice for busy women with lots of responsibilities and demands on their time and person. (That's pretty much all of us, right?) Here's how it works for me. On Sunday morning, my time is my own. No one else (including my internal taskmaster) can tell me what do, or even make requests. No phone. No e-mail. It could be a walk, or yoga, or blogging, or a wander in the garden, but usually it's bed, tea, scented candle, journal, pens, huge stack of books and magazines, plus the little dog who thoroughly approves of mornings in bed. I've worked to make my bedroom feel like a little sanctuary, so I relish this *free* time I get to spend there. It makes the whole week easier. Where can you fit some goddess time into your life?
 

p.s. My Seven Weeks to an Artful Life e-course is beginning in a few short weeks. Self-care, and creating time for self and creativity, will be a big part of our learning in the course! I'd love it if you'd consider joining us.