Epilogue

Last Friday, when my Anniversary post went up, I knew it would be my penultimate post, here, at Healthzone.

Minutes before, I learned that The Toronto Star has decided to discontinue "Coming Out Crazy" ~ but wait. Remember. We're more than a blog. We're a community.

IT'S ALL ABOUT RESILIENCE

So before you react, let me assure you, our community and the relationships that you and I have spent two years building, all the caring and candour we have here is not going to disappear because of an arbitrary decision. We're more resilient than that. Right? And if not, this is a great time to learn.

The last few days have taught me so much about positive attitudes as I've been churning out lemonade by the gallon.

And listen. Hasn't it been a great ride so far? 

Well, I've decided that we're staying the course. We're just changing, a bit. That's all. And I'm looking forward to it. Even though change isn't always easy. I've made up my mind that things are only going to get better, from now on.

You know my philosophy. I'm not about to cry in my coffee over what I've lost, because I've lost nothing. I've gained. Big time. I choose to celebrate all I've learned. And move on. No hard feelings. I'm not going to dwell on the past, because I cannot change it.

As I've said, I will always be grateful to my editor Brandie Weikle for taking a chance on me, a blogging neophyte, and giving me the opportunity to learn a slew of new skills. For her generous support and guidance. And for her friendship, which will not change. 

I'M NOT DWELLING ON THE PAST – I'M STAYING IN THE PRESENT

I've benefited in numerous ways personally and most of all, I've made so many friends in you.

None of that will change. Now, is where I am and where I intend to stay. With you. Focused. I believe by staying in the present, the future will take care of itself. 

So, we're going to make a few little geographic and environmental changes. Spruce up our look, though we're keeping it simple. Minimalist. Classic. Easy to navigate. With a blog roll – mine's called "The Honour Roll" – and an "About" page. Both will constantly be changing. As we change.

And believe me. Nothing, absolutely nothing whatsoever is going to shatter our spirit in this new incarnation of Coming Out Crazy. I promise.

Resilience is our middle name. We're moving, that's all.

WE'RE GOING TO CONTINUE OUR WORK TOGETHER – AS A COMMUNITY

We're still going to be the community we've become. We're going to continue the work we're doing together. We're going to keep on growing and learning and evolving and exploring anything that touches on emotional and mental health and well being. 

Most of all, we're going to continue communicating and sharing with each other. Educating and enlightening each other. Learning from each other.

I'll continue reporting on my friend Angela, who's in San Francisco right now. And bring you news. More often, too. Not just twice a week. Whenever I like. We're untethered, now. Free.

By the way, did you hear? This week, the Broadway musical I reviewed here, last June, Next to Normal won a Pulitzer Prize for best drama. After its shaky start, this groundbreaking Tony Award winning rock opera about the struggles of a suburban mother with bipolar disorder and the backlash on her family is the toast of the town. And a mainstream commercial hit, too. 

EVERYTHING IS CHANGING SO FAST

Who knows? We may find a new home. Or other new ways to communicate with each other. I'm hopeful. Everything is changing so fast. It's hard to keep up, but it's amazing how you can adapt. So, for now, we're on our own. 

I'm here for you and I hope you'll be here for me.

I send you all affection, gratitude and hugs, for now.

Speak soon.

You can now find Coming out Crazy here.

Happy Anniversary, "Coming Out Crazy"...

We're two years old today. I cannot believe it and what an education writing this blog has been for me.

IN THE BEGINNING...

On April 9, 2008, I posted my first blog, called Welcome to Coming Out Crazy – and we weren't even live and on line, right at the beginning. (Now everything I've ever posted is archived and online.)

I was just beginning to toy with my own blog and didn't really have a clue about what blogging and the blogosphere was all about, when Brandie Weikle sent me an email asking me if I'd be interested in blogging about mental health for a then-new website The Toronto Star was building called Healthzone.ca.

I just reread that opening post. When I think back to what I thought I would be doing, I'm shocked at how much I've learned and how innocent I was.

As I mentioned, we were not interactive, like we are now. Any feedback came via email that went either to Brandie or directly to me. Our correspondence was strictly one-on-one and a ton of work. 

POSTS FROM THE FIRST FEW MONTHS AND OUR FIRST AWARD

At the beginning, it was just a trickle, but the initial reactions were positive and I kept plodding on writing about some of the topics I'm passionate about – like labeling, language, lessons we can learn from abroad, Recovery and Denial, mad pride, madness and more, "framing" or "the 'S' word", ECT and other current therapies, mental health in the workplace and suicide. 

I shared stories, like the challenges of living with my pregnant Dandie Dinmont terrier bitch, Lucy – who is not pregnant again, I'm sad to report. And this one I discovered on www.TED.com by Sir Ken Robinson. I called it Shall We Dance. 

On October 22, 2008, I turned 60 and that morning, we won our first award as one of the Best Bipolar Blog on the Web Award! We won another in 2009.

Most of all, I was learning how much I didn't know and how much more I wanted to know. I made some enemies, but more friends. I began to familiarize myself with the other mental health bloggers on the Internet – and there are millions of them all over the world – but mainly from the U.S., in England and Canada. 

I quickly discovered that there were very few newspaper mental health bloggers at that time – besides Liz Spikol in Philadelphia, who writes about her bipolar disorder. I've linked you to other bloggers who have intriguing ideas to share. The more we can share, the more we can learn from each other.

In Canada, to the best of my knowledge, I'm still the only person writing regularly and candidly in a major daily about my personal mental health issues, my recovery, and mental health and wellness in general. If not, please let me know who you are, where you are and join our conversation.

I wrote about one of the most remarkable psychiatrists I've ever known, about schizophrenia, about depression, about my teaching, how I came out in class to my students about my mental health issues, about my hearing loss, about how friendship heals, about "living out loud", about my ongoing battle with food and my moods, about letting go, about stress and about hope.

And I wrote about you. 

And Angela and her electroconvulsive therapy, which will be finishing very soon. And I'll be reporting on that, rest assured. Will she need maintenance ECT? I'll keep you informed.

Yet, I've just scratched the surface. There's so much more.

I answered your questions, or tried to, and I explored some of the issues in your comments. I've come to care about you, became acquainted personally with some of you, and even met and befriended some of you.

Now, because of this blog, I have new friends and I'm so grateful to you. This is a dialogue. I thrive on your input. Yes. I live for your comments.

I'VE LEARNED SO MUCH FROM YOU...

I learned so much about you and from you. 

How much you need to share, to speak about your personal pain, your traumas and psychic scars, your stresses and anxieties, your feelings of abandonment and loneliness, your fears and frustrations trying to find compassionate listeners who will help you develop the tools for living meaningfully, instead of or in addition to dispensing medications.

And I've made lots of mistakes. One worked out wonderfully. As a result, I met psychiatrist Ron Pies, a professor of psychiatry at Boston's Tufts University and the S.U.N.Y. Upstate Medical University in Albany, N.Y. He has generously helped me with much of my research and become our resident expert and my friend. 

From the beginning, and especially after we moved to Typepad in June of 2008, I began to dream of creating, here, a safe and supportive virtual community, where you can share your stories, perspectives, complaints and opinions openly with me and each other.

And once I began linking, I began to love sharing all I was learning with you, too, by giving you sources and seeking out the best references I can find for you. Dr. Pies calls me a "public educator" but we're all educating each other, contributing to a body of knowledge here that can help challenge discrimination and prejudice with information and discussion. Openness. Coming out and staying out comfortably. 

Changing the landscape about mental health. Though change doesn't come easily and there's always resistance. We must keep trying.

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

For the last few hours, I've been traveling back, touring the archives of this blog. I'm amazed at how much territory we've covered. 

And how much more we must cover.

As a little anniversary gift to you, the links above will take you back, too. To some posts that were never on line and are now available as well as others you may remember.

So, I'm wishing you a Happy Anniversary, too. Because without you, I simply couldn't do what I do.

Finally, I want to give special thanks to my editor Brandie Weikle. She not only edits me and all of HealthZone brilliantly, but also ParentCentral, where she writes a charming and informative blog about raising her two adorable young sons, Cameron and Alister. Their cute kid quotes of the day are guaranteed to give you a lift.

Her guidance is invaluable. She works like a trojan and she is endlessly patient with me and my occasional emotional outbursts. Brandie, you're a dream of an editor. I adore you!

I want to say a special thanks to the powers-that-be, and all the editors and moderators at thestar.com for having the wisdom and courage to launch a mental health blog. It's crucially important to give all health issues fair treatment, time and space ~ physical and emotional and mental. It's validating for us and empowering for everyone touched directly or indirectly by mental health issues. And we're all touched in some way, somehow. No one is immune.

With heartfelt thanks and gratitude to all of you.

So far, it's been a fascinating ride – not without a few bumps, mind you. I learn lots from those bumps.

So, here's to continuing on our journey of discovery and self-discovery together for another year ~ in health.

Speak soon.

Hugs to you all!

The gifts of giving back...

In my early adolescence, I remember struggling to learn to play George Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" on the piano. How perfect for a budding manic-depressive, years before psychiatrists branded me that way. Back then, my diagnosis was schizophrenia, though I didn't know it. Nor did my family. 

OBSESSED WITH "RHAPSODY IN BLUE"

I was different. And difficult. Histrionic. My nickname was Sarah Bernhardt. I was also taking drama classes, then. My mother considered drama to be a "good outlet" for me, and those classes kindled a lifelong love of the theatre.

But at home, I was obsessed with "Rhapsody in Blue." Mysteriously it whispered to me, deep down. I couldn't explain it. I tingled with exhilaration. Its manic rhythms resonated emotionally. Not rationally or intellectually or verbally. It calmed and excited me simultaneously. Not only listening to our Oscar Levant recording with Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra – but attempting to play this complicated jazz concerto on the piano, myself. 

I have no musical talent whatsoever, but my persistent pounding on the keyboard of our baby grand demanded concentration and focus. It transported me far from my anxieties at that time. Was I making music? I wouldn't call it that, but whatever I was doing was transforming. Tranquilizing. For me.

I felt a little guilty about the way I was mangling Gershwin's masterpiece. He was probably twirling in his grave, but that didn't seem to matter because his music and my attempt at playing it were magical. It had to be therapeutic, though this was years before music therapy was as prevalent as it is today. It felt good. Liberating. It was a healthier emotional release than my acting out.

Until someone in my family, driven mad by my painful practising, demanded I stop. I did. My lessons were stopped, too, I'm sad to say, though I never lost my love of Gershwin and his music.

THE TRANSFORMATIVE POWER OF MUSIC AND THE ARTS

I was very lucky. My parents were vigilant. My mother could see early on that I was struggling in school and needed other more artistic outlets beyond what was offered there. Not all kids are so blessed.

That's why am I talking about the transformative power of music and the arts.

Last Thursday evening, I attended the Annual General Meeting of the Cabbagetown Community Arts Centre where I was elected to the volunteer board. I'm so excited about this. 

For me, helping this small, grassroots organization in any way I can, transports me back to my youth and, in a curious way, to my unfinished performance of Gershwin's piano concerto. 

The CCAC was founded in 1979 by a local Cabbagetown resident, the late David Blackmore, to offer arts programming to children in nearby Regent Park. In 1985, it became a registered charity and now serves all Toronto inner city children. 

"The bulk of our children come from single parent families earning incomes of less than $20,000 per year," CCAC Board President Peggy Weir said. "They have to register with us and we have a sliding scale of fees." 

Individual lessons are offered in instrumental music, and classes in vocal music, drama, visual arts, photography and karate. Homework tutouring is available, as well as pre-school art, reading circles and creative movement classes for moms and tots.

"We focus on individual music lessons and we have qualified teachers who are more than role models and mentors. For many of our children, meeting with their music teacher is the only chance they have each week to engage with an adult, one on one," Weir said. 

 AN OASIS OF LEARNING WHERE CHILDREN ACQUIRE AN EXTRAORDINARY SENSE OF SELF

"Our vision," according to a one-page overview of the CCAC's mandate, "is to be an oasis of learning where children acquire an extraordinary sense of self, of a world where all children and young people have a sense of belonging and are loved and valued. A world where they can fulfill their potential, shape their destiny and experience the joy of life."

Its mission is to do this by "providing them with arts and music lessons focused on building character, discipline and skill."

One woman at the meeting, clearly passionate about the work of the CCAC, sent her son there when he was a child. She talked about how she used to clean the Centre to earn extra money so she could take him to concerts to "see and hear" the music he was learning, being played by the Toronto Symphony or other professional musicians.

Though he's now 29, he did not follow his musical muse professionally, his mother reported. Instead, he became a medical doctor and he's now studying in Florida.

"But he went through the University of Toronto," she said, stressing that the values, skills, disciplines of his musical training and the sense of community at the CCAC equipped him to carry on with his higher education. It changed the course of his life.

Other students have gone on to study music at the Royal Conservatory of Music and funds raised by the CCAC can cover the costs of their entrance examinations. 

MUSIC MAKES EVERYONE FEEL GOOD

"There are oodles of studies showing that studying the arts, particularly music, promotes learning," Weir said.

"Children who take music lessons often become quite enamoured and end up practicing. We give them instruments to take home – violins and keyboards. They have the responsibility of taking care of them. Also, if you're practicing, you're less likely to be hanging out at the corner with friends who may be offering you illegal substances."

Weir has been involved actively with the CCAC for six years and has lived in Cabbagetown for 25 years. 

"I know this community and through my personal experience, I know that music is the great leveler," she said. "It doesn't matter where you come from, it's the international language. I moved to Canada from Brussels. Listening to music or playing an instrument, it no longer matters what language you speak or what your dad does or where you live. It makes everyone feel good. It lifts you up and takes you out of whatever closet you find yourself in."

My music making days are long gone and with my hearing loss, even listening to music is not what it used to be, but I have another source of pleasure that's even more rewarding.

Volunteering. I grew up with a mother who was always active in the community and I've been volunteering for years.  

GETTING OUT INTO THE COMMUNITY AND GIVING A HELPING HAND

There's tons of research proving how volunteering is beneficial for your physical and mental health. I believe in preventative health. Who knows what problems the CCAC may be preventing down the road for its children?

And everybody has something to give. 

That's why I'm so thrilled about joining the CCAC board. Meetings take place in the centre, a newly renovated, brightly-lit space in an old red brick house on Parliament Street. During our meetings, which take place there, we can watch young people bustling to and from their classes. 

You have no idea how exciting it is to watch how your efforts are transforming lives right before your eyes. I can't wait for the Spring Recital.

Not long ago, I met a woman who was struggling with depression. She decided to drive patients to and from their chemotherapy treatments for the Canadian Cancer Society. Her mother had died of cancer and she found that a meaningful way to give back. She admitted that it made her feel better. 

"I still have my dark days, but it gets me out and out of myself," she said.

You cannot buy these gifts of time and care that you're giving. No store carries them. They are priceless. As priceless and rewarding as the way giving them makes you feel.

Angela's news and "Words on the Wall"...

"I'm confused," Angela said at the outset of our conversation last evening at 7:56 p.m. "Really confused."

She sounded groggy and sluggish. I hadn't heard quite this sound before. Her affect wasn't flat. She did not sound in the least depressed, but she didn't have the bounce in her voice I have come to expect lately. 

Angela had her third bilateral electroconvulsive therapy treatment 12 hours earlier – her 15th over the last eight weeks. Her first 12 were unilateral. This coming Monday, she will begin the final stretch of her 12-week treatment course.

"I COULDN'T REMEMBER WHY I WAS HAVING ECT"

"I came out of the anesthesia this morning and I couldn't remember why I was having ECT and I'm still foggy," she said. "I had to do some stuff on the computer and I couldn't remember how. Eventually it came back though..."

"I bought a motorcycle today," she announced, voice sounding a little more cheery. She had been looking at one for over a week. Last summer, her motorcycle was stolen and she's wanted to replace it ever since, but she hasn't been able to move on that decision until now.

She informed me that she did not have her customary afternoon post-ECT nap yesterday, either. 

Instead, she spent the whole day "doing things I had to accomplish," which included spending $16,000 on this new 2009 motorcycle.

"I spent money I don't entirely have," she said. "My mother is lending me $5,000, but when I talked to her about it earlier today, I couldn't really have a conversation with her, I was so confused. This evening, we talked again and I was feeling a little better."

I cut our conversation short. Clearly, she needed sleep. I sensed it and we discussed it. She admitted she was tired and going to bed right after she hung up the phone.

THIS MORNING SHE SOUNDED REFRESHED

At 10:42 a.m. this morning, she sounded like a different person when she answered the phone – refreshed, alert and bright as the day. It's sunny and will reach 18 degrees Celsius. 

"I'm much less confused, though some things are not back yet," she admitted. "I've only been up for about an hour and a half."

We talked about how she learned an important lesson, yesterday, about her need for a nap after her ECT that seems to "scramble my brain." Sleeps seems to unscramble it. 

SLEEP UNSCRAMBLES HER BRAIN AFTER ECT

Sleep heals. We chatted about it and she admitted that having a nap when she can fall asleep on the afternoons after her ECT treatments "may be an answer." 

She was giggling and laughing a lot during our talk. She reported that she was feeling "not too bad" – generally "normal" about her mood and life in general, with "not a lot of plans for the day." 

Usually, Angela sees her psychiatrist on Friday mornings, but today, her psychiatrist is attending a conference.

"I'm not nearly as confused as I was last night, not by a long shot," she said. "I'm feeling much better and my memories are coming back. It just takes a little time, which can be frustrating."

*   *   *   *   *

HONOURING THE MEMORIES OF PSYCHIATRIC PATIENTS PAST

About four weeks ago, Geoffrey Reaume sent me a note about an upcoming, intriguing and creative-sounding artistic initiative called "Words on the Wall" ~ a fundraiser for plaques for the 19th Century Patient-Built Wall.

Geoff and I go back quite a few years. I've interviewed him several times on a variety of topics related to the history of psychiatric treatment of "inmates" at the former Provincial Lunatic Asylum, now the site of the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) at 1001 Queen Street West. 

He is not only a "psychiatric consumer survivor" himself – and flourishing in his recovery, I might add – but also he is the author of Remembrance of Patients Past: Patient Life at the Toronto Hospital for the Insane, 1870-1940. 

This is fascinating and at times alarming history. Geoff is a dedicated and passionate advocate of honouring the memories of the patients who built this wall. He is the driving force of The Psychiatric Survivor Archives who freely and quite regularly shares his expertise and the stories behind the bricks for for people who wish to tour the wall with him.

And finally, Geoff is a York University assistant professor who teaches and researches in the area of disability studies and one of his courses is called Mad People's History. 

BUILD A BRICK WORK OF ART AND HELP PUT "WORDS ON THE WALL"

Now that I've given you Geoffrey's history, here's why he contacted me. 

On April 21 at the Gladstone Hotel, this special "Words on the Wall" event will be held in conjunction with This is Not a Reading Series.

You can take part. The Psychiatric Survivor Archives of Toronto is giving out bricks to serve as the basis for a work of art – possibly yours. Artists and groups, anyone, really, can use a medium of their choice to decorate or create an original brick-based work of art that will be sold by silent auction that night. The evening will raise funds for historic plaques to commemorate the history of the patient-built wall.

That evening, Geoff will also lead one of his engaging tours of "the wall," followed by a relaunch of the 2nd edition of his book, Remembrance of Patients Past. This evening will wind up with the silent auction.

The deadline for submissions is Wednesday, April 7 and to request a brick or for more information, email psychsurvivorarchives@gmail.com or phone 416-661-9975 or 416-809-1013.

WE MUST KEEP CHALLENGING DISCRIMINATION THOUGH EDUCATION

This is a universally significant event, I think, because we must never forget where we've come from, how important and vital our history is and how much work needs to be done to publicly educate everyone, young and old, about psychiatric issues past and present.

Without emotional health and well-being, we have nothing. 

We must challenge and keep challenging discrimination – through education.

We are the best experts. We all can raise our voices. We need to be heard. 

Taking the myth and mystery out of Adult ADHD...

I am no expert on Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. 

Although between you and me? When I read the following list of common symptoms, I was sure I had eight-and-a-half out of nine of them:

• trouble maintaining focus or often being distracted

• lots on the go but nothing ever finished

• perpetual financial problems

• piles of paperwork scattered around home and office

• poor listening skills and talking excessively

• impulsive behaviours

• impatience

• frequent traffic accidents or routine speeding

• difficulty maintaining friendships or romantic relationships

When I confessed this to Marty, he straightened me out in one split second.

Isn't this what happens to you when you start reading about the symptoms of any health issue? 

Suddenly, you have most or all of them. You really feel them. That's what's so dicey about having too much information at your fingertips. Sometimes, it's not healthy. What do all these symptoms mean? In truth, it may seem that you have enough symptoms for a million and one disorders or diseases from Lupus to Leprosy, when in fact, you're fine. 

That's the power of suggestion. The trick is to be savvy and smart about the sources you use and to find the best information in the Internet. I'll get back to that in a minute. 

ADULT ADHD IS REAL AND NOT JUST FOR KIDS

I do not, to the best of my knowledge, have ADHD. (I'll check with Dr. Bob next week.) But some adults do. 

ADHD is not just for kids. In fact, the symptoms of child and adolescent and adult ADHD differ. (I mean how many five-year-olds have frequent traffic accidents or routinely speed?)

The first time I heard about adult ADHD was in May 2008. I'll never forget it.

I attended a weekend course for teachers in Collingwood sponsored by Seneca called The Great Teaching Seminar. During one session, we all sat around in a circle – about 40 of us. We were asked to disclose something personal.

One fellow I did not know – Seneca has eight campuses and thousands of faculty – started talking. He is a business professor, though he talked about how he used to work in a corporation.

He related how, several years before, while he was still working in business that he started having problems concentrating, having anxiety attacks, though he didn't know it was anxiety at the time. I can't remember all the details, but he said that gradually he began struggling so much at work – I'm sorry, but I don't remember exactly what it was he did – that his performance began faltering badly. He was forced to take some time off. He paid a visit to his doctor.

He was so stressed out, he could barely function, but it didn't take his doctor long to figure out that he was suffering with adult ADHD. This man admitted he was shocked.

WITH TREATMENT FOR ADHD HIS LIFE IMPROVED DRAMATICALLY

"I thought only kids get ADHD," he said to his doctor. Nope. His doctor prescribed some medication, helped to educate him on ADHD, gave him some strategies and tips to help him adapt to his new-found condition and carefully monitored how he responded to all his new treatment tools.

This man told us the difference in his life after he was treated for his ADHD was nothing short of miraculous. I'll never forget that he actually broke down and started to cry, the improvement in the quality of life had changed so dramatically. He decided, shortly after his symptoms began to subside and he was feeling better, to leave big business and take up teaching. He's never regretted his decision and it's paid off big time for his emotional health. He's so much happier, healthier and at peace with himself and his family.

ADHD IS MUCH MISUNDERSTOOD AND MALIGNED

Still, ADHD is among the most misunderstood and maligned mental health conditions. Left untreated, in adults, it can lead to addiction, divorce, bankruptcy, accidents, depression, anxiety, and even suicide.

Its symptoms are complicated because they can present in a multitude of different combinations with each individual. In addition to the devastating personal costs, ADHD in British Columbia alone directly and indirectly costs more than $500 million.

Like many people, Rick Green of The Rick Green Show, first suspected he had ADD, "when one of my kids was diagnosed," the Canadian actor/writer/director said, whose diagnosis was made after years of struggling with various symptoms. 

So high-powered Canadian entertainer Green teamed up with a high-voltage ADD medical specialist Dr. Umesh Jain, a psychiatrist and professor at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health, the Canadian ADHD Resource Alliance, University of Toronto and the Centre for ADD Advocacy Canada and together they collaborated on a critically acclaimed documentary called ADD & Loving It.

Last year, they launched an absolutely riveting new web site called Totally ADD (www.totallyadd.com) – "A complete guide to ADD and ADHD in adulthood."

Then, with Jain, Green produced and directed an interactive workshop called Now What?! which helps adults recognize the symptoms of ADD. No easy feat.

THE NEW ADD WEBSITE IS FUNNY. ENGAGING. TERRIFIC.

First, I have to tell you in all honesty the website is terrific. Even if you don't have ADHD, you probably know someone who does. Why not learn about it? It will help you empathize. Besides, this website is fascinating to watch. Instructive. Engaging. Entertaining. And funny! Like nothing else I've ever seen.

Green said, "Based on personal experience and what I learned while developing the documentary and Totally ADD.com, I wanted to help people who were struggling but didn't know why or what they could do about it." 

He and Jain will be teaming up to offer their Now What?! workshop this Saturday, February 27 at The Ontario Science Centre in the Imperial Oil Auditorium from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. for anyone over the age of 16. Tickets are $29 and available through www.TotallyADD.com.

Dr. Jain said the main message of this workshop is that life can be easier when you know what's causing your symptoms and you can get the help you need, help that's readily available.

"I am constantly inspired by what my patients are able to achieve," he said. 

UNDERSTAND YOUR STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES

"The key to success with ADD is to develop an understanding of your strengths and challenges, and then embrace those traits. When treated properly, ADD can be managed and even harnessed to the point that it becomes a driving factor in a highly successful life. 

"People such as Dr. Richard Branson, quarterback Terry Bradshaw, Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps, political savant James Carville, comedian Howie Mandel and many other famous and successful people have acknowledged that they had ADD."

The more you know about yourself, the more insight you have and the more emotionally healthy you can be.

So it is with my emotional and psychiatric health issues. That's why I continue to see Dr. Bob as often as I feel I need to see him. We work together peeling the onion, layer by layer. 

If you have any questions or concerns about ADHD, Saturday's interactive workshop at the Ontario Science Centre might help you face up to yourself and your fears. Once you know what's happening, your fears aren't so scary anymore.

Good luck and if you attend, please let me know what you learn. I'm always interested. Your sharing here will help lots of others.

*   *   *   *   *

I have intriguing and rather surprising news about Angela's progress with her ongoing ECT treatments as well as an unexpected announcement about my little Dandie Dinmont Terrier "bitch" Lucy, but I'm saving both for Friday morning's post.

See you then, have a lovely meantime, and speak soon.

An apology and Angela's "voluntary" ECT...

One of my goals as a blogger writing about mental health and wellness is to use "the language of respect" at all times. I am not perfect and sometimes I err, which I did, unwittingly and unknowingly, in my last post. 

I inappropriately referred to Darby Penney, an ex-patient and long-time activist in the movement to protect the human rights of people with psychiatric conditions, as "a well-known anti-psychiatry activist who vehemently opposes ECT." 

I thought I was accurately describing her. It never occurred to me that I wasn't. But I was wrong. She was quick to inform me that I had "misrepresented her beliefs" and "defamed" her. She stated that she does not believe she is "well-known" and that she is neither "anti-psychiatry" nor "vehemently anti-ECT."

THE LANGUAGE OF RESPECT 

She stated that she is "pro-choice, especially pro-informed choice" and she stressed, "I believe people should be free to make their own decisions about any treatment as long as they have full and accurate information about its risks and benefits."

I would like to apologize to Darby and to anyone else I may have offended by misinterpreting Darby's point of view. I was insensitive. I became emotional and, unfortunately, defensive. ECT is a highly emotional and political issue. As a result of our private exchange, Darby educated me as to why the terms "anti-psychiatry" and "anti-ECT" were offensive to her. Henceforth, I will be extremely careful when using them. 

Darby, I hope you will accept my sincere apology. I'm sorry that I misrepresented you and upset you. Thank you for taking the time to explain why my statements were so hurtful and for educating me on the nuances of "the language of respect." 

"COERCIVE PSYCHIATRY"

In one of the comments to this last post, the term "coercive psychiatry" was used. Angela's ECT is by no means "forced" or involuntary. She chose to have electroconvulsive therapy independently. She asked me "what do you know about ECT" one evening, out of the blue. We had never discussed it. She discussed it with her psychiatrist. She did her own research. 

She is having outpatient ECT and she's had six sessions over the last three weeks, although she said last night that she "wants it to be done." She has another five weeks of treatment, and possibly more. Perhaps 12 weeks in all.

"I'm feeling tired, but not depressed. Just a little down," she said last night at about 8:30 p.m. She has to get up at 6 a.m. on the days of her 7 a.m. ECT treatments. "And my hand looks like a pin cushion."

She sad that during her treatment yesterday morning, she had "a nice psychiatrist and a female anesthesiologist who was very good." She admitted that she had a "tiny bit of confusion," right after the treatment when she got home. "I couldn't remember where I keep the popcorn or where my little Crystal Lite juice packs were, but I took a minute or two and it came back to me."

This morning – we just spoke – she said she's feeling better than she was last night. "I'm about a seven," she said. My call interrupted the "work-out" she does every day, using a computer program. She saw her psychiatrist today and said, "Everything is good." This weekend, she'll be glued to the TV and The Olympics, but we'll be connecting each day.

"WE DON'T HAVE INVOLUNTARY ECT IN ONTARIO" 

I asked my psychiatrist Dr. Bob about Involuntary ECT yesterday. Here in Canada, health policy is provincially legislated (as it is by individual states in the U.S.) and in Ontario, we don't have involuntary ECT, he said. 

Everyone must sign a consent form, except in cases where a person may not be capable of making that decision. I remember, when I had my first course of ECT treatments in 1965, I was hospitalized because I was psychotic. At that time, my diagnosis was schizophrenia. During that seven-month hospitalization, I became catatonic and ECT was recommended because nothing seemed to be helping me. My parents signed the consent forms. 

In 1975, shortly after I left my first husband, again I was hospitalized for psychosis. My diagnosis was still schizophrenia. I wasn't depressed. I was clearly manic with psychotic features, though my diagnosis wasn't changed to manic depression – the term "bipolar disorder" wasn't in use yet – until later that year, when I was prescribed Lithium. This time, my estranged husband and my parents gave consent for the ECT course of treatments that was recommended by my team of psychiatrists. I remember that distinctly.

In cases such as mine, when someone isn't capable to make an informed decision or give informed consent, in Ontario, there is a hierarchy of people or "substitute decision makers" who are asked to make this decision on behalf of the patient, my psychiatrist explained. First, a spouse or partner, then a parent or child who must be age 16 or over, then a sibling, and then any other relative. If none of these people is available, then the Public Guardian is consulted.

This decision is based on one of two criteria. If the patient made it known that s/he wishes not to have ECT, for example, that wish must be respected by law. If there is no prior known wish, then a decision must be made on the "Best Interests Principle" which is defined in The Health Care Consent Act. 

In Ontario, this is true for any medical procedure. Yesterday, I had to sign a consent form to have my dog Lucy's teeth cleaned. She had to be anesthetized. Last year, I had to sign a consent form to have periodontal surgery, though I did not have any anesthesia.

I had planned to tackle controversy swirling around the Newsweek cover story on antidepressants this morning, but as you can see, things sometimes derail my best-laid plans. I'll try to get to it next week.

HAVE A WARM AND RELAXING "FAMILY DAY"!

On Monday, Angela's regularly scheduled ECT treatment is cancelled because in Ontario, it's Family Day – a three-year-old and much-needed, mid-Winter holiday. It's also my stepdaughter's birthday, so we'll be celebrating that, too. If anyone has helped to support me and safeguard my sanity over the last 11 years, it's been my new immediate family. My darling husband, Marty, and his youngest and most spirited daughter, Maya, who will be turning 23 on Monday and grows sweeter and more adorable with each year. His older daughter, Rebecca, doesn't live with us, yet, she, too, is extraordinarily kind and considerate of me, always caring and compassionate. We're hoping she will celebrate with us.

I hope you have a family to celebrate on Monday, family in the broadest sense. Whether it's your father or mother (mine is extraordinary) or siblings (also pretty special to me) or your extended family, and your "chosen family" of friends.

Here's to a great weekend and a lovely, warm and relaxing Family Day!

"It's Complicated" – ECT and more...

A lot is going on today.

Benedict Carey reported in the New York Times the latest intriguing and provocative news in the ongoing and contentious debate over the DSM-V. I'm not going to weigh in on all this, but here are a couple of interesting preliminary analyses from two bloggers I respect though they don't always agree – psychologist John M. Grohol of PsychCentral and Philip Dawdy of Furious Seasons. 

Trust me, there will be tons of people, professionals, bloggers, patients, parents, anyone who has ever been diagnosed or misdiagnosed will discussing this crucial publication when it's released, and Carey explains why:

"The eagerly awaited revisions — to be published, if adopted, in the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, due in 2013 — would be the first in a decade.

"For months they have been the subject of intense speculation and lobbying by advocacy groups, and some proposed changes have already been widely discussed — including folding the diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome into a broader category, autism spectrum disorder.

"But others, including a proposed alternative for bipolar disorder in many children, were unveiled on Tuesday. Experts said the recommendations, posted online at DSM5.org for public comment, could bring rapid change in several areas.

“'Anything you put in that book, any little change you make, has huge implications not only for psychiatry but for pharmaceutical marketing, research, for the legal system, for who’s considered to be normal or not, for who’s considered disabled,” said Dr. Michael First, a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University who edited the fourth edition of the manual but is not involved in the fifth.

“And it has huge implications for stigma,” Dr. First continued, “because the more disorders you put in, the more people get labels, and the higher the risk that some get inappropriate treatment.”

You can be sure, I'll be watching and commenting, too. But not today.

Finally, I've spent too much time corresponding on Facebook with someone who's very critical of my perspectives on ECT and who commented on my last post, which I linked to Facebook.

Darby Penney is a well-known anti-psychiatry activist who vehemently opposes ECT. Among her accusations against me is that I have a "bias toward this brain-damaging treatment." (Darby, you'll be happy to learn that Linda Andre's book finally arrived in the mail this morning, so I'll be adding it to my list of resources.) 

ANTI-PSYCHIATRY ACTIVIST CONTENDS THAT ECT CAUSES "BRAIN DAMAGE"

Penney contends that ECT causes "brain damage" and supports her statement with three clearly "anti-ECT" perspectives. 

Nevertheless, this statement, in spite of her supporters, appears to have no bearing whatsoever on the way Angela is responding to her ECT treatments. 

My question is, "Is memory loss brain damage?" But that's another story.

The point is, I'm trying to be as fair and balanced as I can be. Follow the comments to this series and you'll see all kinds of reactions. They're not edited in any way. I invite all of you with strong feelings about ECT to weigh in. This is a public forum. It's too bad Penney chose to express her opinions on my Facebook page instead of here, but that was her choice. 

Now then...

This is Week Three of Angela's eight-week course of ECT treatments – that could possibly stretch to 12 weeks, depending on her progress and her results. She is also participating in a long-term Toronto-based study involving four University of Toronto-affiliated teaching hospitals that is investigating ECT and the nature of its possible resultant memory loss at a cellular level. This study is in its fourth year and the results will be available in 2011. Although she wanted to increase the frequency of her biweekly treatments to three times a week, because of the design of the study, her psychiatrist told her that wasn't possible.

Since Monday, when Angela had her fifth treatment at 7 a.m., she's been perkier than I've heard her sound in ages. We speak every day. At least once. Often more.

During our conversations this week, we've been carefully distinguishing between how she perceives her mood as compared to how she's feeling about other issues in her life which are problematic, but have nothing to do with her psychiatric condition – her intractable depression with suicidal ideation.

"I'D RATHER HAVE MEMORY PROBLEMS OR BE A BIT CONFUSED THAN BE DEPRESSED"

On Monday, following her treatment, Angela said she was feeling "a little depressed but not suicidal," stressing that she had no memory problems at all. "To be honest, I'd rather have memory problems or be a bit confused, than be depressed," she admitted.

It was her 37th birthday, but she wasn't celebrating in any dramatic way. "We're ordering in Chinese food and watching the hockey game," she said, adding, "and my mother made me fudge, but she overcooked it. It's hard fudge." 

Angela was laughing during this conversation. I could hear her mother joking with her in the background. She was having fun. It was wonderful to hear.

On Tuesday, admittedly less depressed, Angela was annoyed because one of her cats was "misbehaving" – missing the litter box. "But I'm not feeling unhappy," she said.

This morning, she said, "Monday's ECT treatment was the best one I've had so far as far as side effects because there was a minimum memory loss," she said. "And you know, I feel like the treatments are definitely making an improvement over where I was. My affect is not nearly as flat and I'm handling my emotions better."

She said her mother's visit "went really well. I told her about my ECT and I was worried about how she'd react, but essentially she's quite supportive and just wants me to be healthy."

There are other personal issues that are bothering her, but Angela admitted, "I'm handing them better than I know I would have before the treatment."

THIS MORNING, SHE'S A GOOD SEVEN AND A HALF

On our scale of one to 10, she says she's a good seven and a half – a slight improvement over how she was feeling last week.

"If ECT allows you to be better prepared to handle those adversities, then it's worth its weight in gold," she said. 

Angela has a small studio in her home where she enjoys sculpting. When she's depressed, she never feels like working with her clay, but when we ended our conversation this morning, she signed off saying, "I feel like sculpting... and I think I'm going to go back to it."

Activist Judi Chamberlin dies at 65...

American mental health advocate/activist Judi Chamberlin was a powerhouse, a beacon in the fight for equal rights for people with mental illnesses. A psychiatric survivor, she was considered the "grandmother of the mad pride movement." 

She died peacefully, at 65, on Saturday in her Arlington, Massachusetts home after a long fight with lung disease.

For the last two years, Judi was a hospice patient, living with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) for which she never had any risk factors. She never smoked. 

She discussed her medical history candidly on her blog, Life as a Hospice Patient, where she wrote courageously and with brutal honesty, giving a voice to a group of people you rarely hear from – people who are dying in hospice care.

Yet despite her illness, Judi lived out loud every moment of her life and never stopped fighting for people's civil rights, especially people with mental illnesses. That was her fight.

Notice of her death will not be carried in the mainstream press. This is a tragedy. She left her mark on the American mental health care scene and touched the lives of people with mental illnesses around the world. 

Her obituary is posted on the NPR website where you can also listen to a short radio version. You can also hear Will Hall's 2006 in-depth interview with her on Madness Radio.

Her book, On Our Own, was published in the U.S. in 1978 (later in England and in Italy) where it is considered a manifesto by people with mental illnesses fighting to be treated in hospitals and by health care professionals with the same dignity and humanity as people with physical illnesses.

Judi was a founding member of the National Empowerment Center and was a Senior Consultant on Survivor Perspectives at the Boston University Center for Psychiatric Rehabilitation.

She was originally treated in a state mental hospital for depression in 1966.

"Very quickly, (I) found out that once you sign papers to go in on a voluntary basis, but then you can't leave when you want to leave, which was absolutely shocking to me," she said, according to the NPR obituary.

"She got out of that state hospital and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, where she lived with other people who'd been diagnosed with mental illnesses but who'd then gotten government money to develop their own treatments.

After recovering, she moved to Boston and started working with other former American psychiatric patients who "wanted to change the system." In many ways, she did.

She published widely, travelled far and inspired hope in people all over the world.

I'm sorry I never met her. 

About "The Americanization of Mental Illness" and then some...

What a week! 

It began on Sunday when I read a fascinating and provocative critique of the global influences of Western psychiatry by Ethan Watters titled The Americanization of Mental Illness in the Sunday New York Times Magazine,. Great title.  

I went through that piece initially on Saturday night online, when my friend Susan, a New Jersey-based bipolar blogger emailed me about it thinking it might be a good story to write about here.

Her email arrived while I was madly preparing for my first classes at Seneca College that began this week, so I decided I'd read this lengthy feature more carefully in print with my hard-copy of The Sunday Times the next morning, which I did.

Still, it started percolating at the back of mind. Though I expected the blogosphere to light up with comments, it didn't, as far as I could tell. Only Gianna Kali at Beyond Meds mentioned it and linked to it.

Reading it on Sunday morning in print, I penciled it up like a student preparing for a class. I found myself feeling comfortable and at ease, repeatedly nodding in agreement. After all, many of the points Watters makes, I've made here numerous times. 

Then at 5:11 a.m. Monday morning, as I was getting ready to leave for my class, my niece who teaches philosophy at a northeastern university sent me a link to it.

"hi sandy," she wrote. She never capitalizes in her missives to me. "did you see this? i haven't finished it yet  but it is very interesting and i think i'm going to include it in my emotions class..."

Interesting. Then, a red light went on in my mind. 

I started asking myself questions. I was beginning to wonder if there was something missing in Watters approach to a series of highly complex issues. He's a San Francisco-based published author and journalist with interests in cross-cultural psychiatry, anthropology, globalization and psychology, according to his blog. 

Does he have a psychiatric diagnosis, I wondered? I couldn't find any evidence of it, but to be honest, I didn't spend a great deal of time looking. I didn't have the time. I was racing against the clock trying to finish my course prepping.

Since Watters was so critical of American psychiatry, I decided to ask an American psychiatrist what he thought of this essay and I whipped off a series of questions to my friend and muse, my font of knowledge and wisdom, Dr. Ron Pies, Tufts University clinical psychiatrist and researcher and Editor-in-Chief of Psychiatric Times, the largest international online psychiatric magazine on the planet. 

Ron also contributes to The New York Times, The Boston Globe and PsychCentral's World of Psychology as well as endless psychiatric journals. 

I've devoted a number of posts to him here, too.  

Then, at 6:45 a.m., nervously, I drove off to school for my first class of the term – an 8 a.m. Monday class – a students' favourite. 

This is the first of my two Seneca classes. Twenty-two out of 35 students showed up and they were jittery. Not only because of today's Ontario Community College OPSEU province-wide faculty strike vote (I'm not in the union as a part-time teacher, so I'm not voting, by the way) but because of my course and what its demands will mean for them.

It was a good class. When I got home, I continued my correspondence with Ron. What a wild few days.

Yesterday at another Seneca campus at 1:30 p.m. I went through the same nerve-wracking experience with another 35 students.

Why nerve-wracking, you ask? 

Because I teach an elective course, required of all Seneca students who wish to graduate, no matter what program they are in, and I have a very diverse groups of students. Lots of business students of every stripe from administration and financial management to marketing and accounting, plus fire protection technology, early childhood education, library technology, fashion and any other of the dozens of programs Seneca offers. 

My classrooms look like a mini-United Nations. It's extraordinary. Teaching is learning, and I swear, teaching an elective at Seneca is a post-graduate degree in itself.

My course is called Leadership in Society and it is for college students who want to make a difference – more than money. It's what I do here. It defines my life today.

This course has become a life-changing experience for many of my students. It combines leadership training and Community Service-based learning, a growing movement in North American colleges and universities. In my course, 30% of their final mark is based on a major Community Service Project requiring each student to do a minimum of 20-hours of community service over a period of three to five consecutive weeks with a non-profit organization – in addition to their full academic load. 

They learn to write reflectively, keeping weekly journals. They must go out and find and interview a community leader. I teach them how to conduct an interview.

It's a major commitment. The subtextual prerequisite is that they care about making changes for the greater good of the community or society. Many students do. Others don't but learn to care, and often they continue their community service long after the course ends.

This is my course. I was asked to develop it in the Fall of 2007 while teaching Women Studies and I've been teaching two classes every Fall and Winter term since. It's a work in progress. In constant development. I've made a lot of mistakes but I've learned more than I could ever imagine.

I love teaching this course. It's my passion because, like creating and writing Coming Out Crazy here at HealthZone and exchanging ideas and community-building with you, teaching and learning are what I love to do most. I'm happier with these two part-time jobs, than I ever was in my full-time journalistic career. I make less money. I have no benefits. My life is rich, rewarding, meaningful and endlessly challenging and exciting. 

Proof that making a difference and having true meaning in your life is more rewarding than a huge bank balance. All you need is enough. Thank you, Daniel H. Pink! He happens to be one of my resources for my course.

Yet this course is often a very tough sell to the students. Yesterday, in one of my classes, I had 35 students registered. They arrived late. They didn't want to do Community Service and were very vocal about it. They were also so disruptive during that class, I came home with a backache, a headache and a stomachache. Thoroughly spent. No energy to write this post. 

I've learned that disruption in a classroom is contagious. A few can destroy the class culture for everyone. I was so stressed out, I had a snack and went to sleep at 5:30 p.m. worrying about how I would be able to manage this group for the next three months.

I felt awful, even though Ron Pies had blogged about the Watters piece himself and cited me and another doctor as having inspired it.

"Thanks for providing the 'spark'! --- Best, Ron," he wrote in an email at 4:45 p.m. yesterday.

I was a mess.

Sometimes I think the ongoing stresses of everyday life are insidious and potentially dangerous. Their relentless pressures hammer away at you, again and again, week-in and week-out. They're cumulative and more difficult to live with and manage that annual stresses like Christmas or peak stresses like having to move to a new home or the shock of losing your job or even experiencing the death of someone dear to you.

Their repetitive onslaught on our minds, spirits and bodies is doggedly destructive and distressing. 

Yesterday night, I was devastated. Then, just before I went to sleep, I checked my class lists. All those disruptive students had dropped my course. My class list was down to 29. 

So, on Friday, I will share with you my concerns and what I've learned about "The Americanization of Mental Illness..." I promise. I'll share some of the correspondence I had with Ron Pies, with whom I do not always agree, by the way. How could we? I have a 49-year psychiatric history. I'm Canadian. He was a toddler when I went to see my first psychiatrist in 1960. He's also a polymath with interests in philosophy, Talmudic studies, poetry and ethics. He's published widely and not just psychiatric texts but a wonderful book I give as a gift called Everything Has Two Handles – The Stoic Guide to the Art of Living (Hamilton Books, 2008). He's one of the wisest people I know, but we come from very different places. Yet we respect each other. I adore him.

So, today, I'm decompressing and planning my classes for tomorrow. I teach at two campuses every Thursday. I have 100 minutes to get from one campus to another. It's tough, when your students need you and want talk to you!

I pray that it does not snow on Thursdays this winter.

Be well. Stay warm. Speak soon.

Hidden Homelessness: One woman's story...

I often say to my students that "teaching is learning" and the same is true of journalism and perhaps even more, of blogging. There is a visceral connection between you and me in the blogosphere, often it grows beyond a virtual connection, too. It's very affecting and inspiring. 

This is the story of one of those times.

On Saturday night, I had a tough time falling asleep. My mind was whizzing. 

The day before, on Friday, while achy, feverish and sleeping most of time, felled by some sort of bug, I received an email from a member of our community here at Coming Out Crazy named Sandra Dawson.

She was clearly upset and for good reason. Through a series of emails and then a five-hour telephone conversation on Saturday evening, I discovered that Sandra's recovery journey is nothing short of miraculous. 

"When I was eight, my depression started. For no reason. I became glum, sad, moody cranky, often during the fall and spring. It was biological. I wasn't diagnosed at all until years later," she said. 

Sandra grew up in a comfortable and "privileged" military family, and as she was moving all over the country growing up, her behaviour began changing along with her moods.

"When I was about 10, I wrote a Christmas play and my teacher decided that I could direct it, but she fired me as the director because I was too bossy," she said, laughing at the recollection, perhaps a harbinger of the more exuberant moods she would experience later.

Initially, her mood swings were characterized by short episodes of increasingly severe depression, and occasional suicidality – her first attempt was when she was 11 years old, in school, with a pair of blunt, round-edge scissors. "I just knew I wanted to die," she said. A schoolmate spotted her and called her "Freak!" Nothing else happened. 

"We didn't talk about it in my family," she said. "We were repressed and didn't discuss our feelings or our emotions."

By the time she was in her early 20s, she was beginning to experience wildly euphoric manic moments as well as depression. Sometimes the two extreme moods occurred coincidentally, with "mixed episodes of mania/depression and hypomanic/euphoria. Depression with spikes of mania," she said. 

Eventually, Sandra started seeing a counselor, to no avail, then a psychiatrist who prescribed medication. "I was misdiagnosed as being depressed," but because of her own ignorance and fears about mental illnesses, her prejudice and discrimination, her negative stereotypes, she wouldn't take those drugs, even though she was suicidal.

She never went back to that doctor.

Sandra is now 42. She has been hospitalized approximately 35 times, calling herself a classic 'revolving door.' Most of those hospital stays, she stresses, were for relatively short periods of time – from a few days to two months.

"There were many times when my doctors didn't know what to do with me," she said from her home in Vancouver. Sometimes, they still don't, she added. 

Between these episodes, she typically has much longer periods of independence, emotional stability and productivity. 

At 27, a GP misdiagnosed her again and prescribed Prozac. This time, Sandra decided to take the medication, but it was disastrous for her. "It made me more manic."

Coupled with the death of her father, insecure living arrangements, travel, and another serious manic episode, her life started spiraling out of control. Suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, unable to work, for the first time in her life, she experienced hidden homelessness.

Four out of five (80%) homeless people in Canada don't live on the street. Most are improperly housed or on the verge of eviction, far too many are children. Women who earn less than men are more vulnerable to homelessness. The hidden homeless live in cars, couch surf or find temporary shelter in church basements or abandoned factories. 

Over the decade between 1994 and 2004, Sandra became homeless – but only four times. Years apart. Those episodes were short. She stayed in shelters for abused women, hospitals, or on friend's couches. She also lived in marginal housing like rooming houses and Single Room Occupancy hotels.

"I've been lucky," she said. "I've never lived 'on the streets' as in the stereotypical sleeping bag on a sidewalk. I am considered high functioning by my psychiatrists. Although my disorder is severe, I can look after my basic needs. Low functioning people need more help, but high functioning people can and do fall through the cracks and become homeless or at risk." 

These experiences were so searing, they turned her into a crusader, a passionate advocate, working professionally and within the community as a volunteer to help to understand, enlighten and fight hidden homelessness, and to ensure that more supportive housing is available especially for people with mental health issues.

She has a steady part-time job on the Mental Health Commission of Canada as a consultant, a person with lived experience of hidden homelessness, working on its newly launched, national multi-city study called At Home/Chez Soi.

Sandra is also on the board of Vancouver's Marine View Housing Society, a licensed and supportive housing project that began in 1975 and owns residential buildings in Vancouver for people with mental health difficulties. For years, she has also volunteered with her local arts community in several capacities. 

"It's so important to me. It makes me feel useful," she said.

Her work with the Mental Health Commission of Canada is one of her passions. 

On Sunday, Sandra was a presenter at a major national Vancouver conference on homelessness called Into The Light, which winds up today. She participated on a National Consumer Panel of peers with lived experience of homelessness and/or mental health issues involved in the At Home/Chez Soi project. These panelists represented cities of all sizes and discussion focused on pressing local issues in their respective areas. 

So why was she so upset when she wrote to me last Friday? 

When this four-year Housing First study was launched at a media event last week, Sandra bravely spoke out, telling her story about her own experiences with homelessness. She gave an interview to the press. Somehow, she was misrepresented and her story was badly distorted, so much so that she feared her credibility would be damaged and her reputation besmirched.

So she reached out to me and I'm so glad she did. I knew virtually nothing about hidden homelessness. It wasn't on my radar screen. Indeed, it was hidden. Invisible. Buried under the stereotype of the homelessness we see. I have started to scratch the surface. I will keep digging. 

Best of all, I've become acquainted with Sandra Dawson, one of the most courageous, generous-hearted people I have ever had the honour to engage with... and I sense we are more than acquainted. We have made a connection. I hope it will continue. There is so much more to share about the nature of homelessness – visible and hidden – especially among children and youth.

I have so much to learn. 

Thank you, Sandra.