Showing posts with label Depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Depression. Show all posts

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Why and How are Doctors and Medical Students so Depressed? And What Can WE Do About it?

The day I got into medicine, was the greatest day of my life. 

I'm sure many medical students and doctors would tell you the exact same thing...

For me it was personal. 

I'd always wanted to study medicine. What better job was there? You could save lives and live in relative comfort your entire life. I'd get to emulate my childhood hero growing up, Captain Hawkeye Pierce from M.A.S.H. 

But after leukaemia struck my life... it became personal. 

I wanted to help people as I'd been helped. It was my doctor's words; that "The Good News Is You're 17 and You Have Leukaemia, but the Bad News is You're 17, And You Have Leukaemia..." and his actions that got me to believe that I actually had a chance in this... It was another patients' words the day before my transplant that really sunk in, and changed my life. Imagine being in a position to do that for people everyday!

My first day in medicine was one of the most joyful of my life. 

I was so excited to finally be in a position to give back, and so delighted to be alongside so many other people who cared just as me. 

But as time went on... things changed. 

For me, and for many of my classmates too. 



As I progressed through the course, I got more and more burdened with work, and more and more dissatisfied, and indoctrinated (pardon the pun) into the collective Group-Think of modern medicine. One which emphasised speed over accuracy, marks over competence. One which measured success through KPIs such as reduced wait times and greater efficiency rather than reduced morbility and morbidity, and higher patient satisfaction and involvement. As I feel many in this profession feel at some point. 


And this in a population who are most educated about mental illness, and the fact that they are illnesses, not just an abstract constructs or "excuses," as many still widely suggest and believe. Somehow still, amongst those with depression or severe symptoms of depression, only 15% of medical students actually get help... For doctors... the rates are even lower. 

Why is this happening though? 

Aren't these people being paid heaps? 


How I imagined life would be after med.

Aren't they close to services? 


Don't they know the risks of the disease, and how altered biochemistry can alter your very mental state - your very person? 

Well, there are many reasons why. 

Various personality traits and attitudes make doctors more likely to suffer from depression. 

Perfectionism, hints of narcissism in some, compulsiveness in others, martyrism in most, and disparaging views of vulnerability are all commonplace. 
Facing death, watching good people suffer, and losing the battle over and over again also burdens doctors. Burnout from stress affects 45% of doctors, ladies and senior physicians in particular. And as this article puts so poignantly, Osler, the founder of the first American residency program, advocating for equanimity in physicians, was perhaps the largest contributor to all this... 

Many doctors feel that showing weakness is a failure on their part. A failure.

If they're not steady under pressure, how can they serve their patients? 

And that can be a tough burden to bear...

400 doctors take their own lives in America alone.
An entire medical school's worth...

Junior doctors and medical students have similarly sky-high rates of depression and suicide ideation (the 10% figure is a conservative estimate; studies in my nation show , but have the added pressure of exams and the weight of expectations on their shoulders too. 
Furthermore, other factors, such as living on their own for the first time, often overseas for many students (where the added pressure of maintaining a steady income is another burden), high levels of student debt, and the sheer pressure of the course and succeeding itself plagues many students. 

Many of my medical student and junior doctors friends complain about many of the above stresses. Many feel medicine takes over their lives. In a time where they should be out and enjoying their life, many students, as well as doctors, regret not enjoying life more. And many feel disillusioned too. They feel they were misled about what medicine actually was. About the impact they have. About the difference they make. So many of my friends express this in particular. But the toxic, competitive hospital environment, where specialty spots are limited, the medical heirachy is emphasised (and perpetuated by older doctors in an "If I went through it, they should too" manner) and bullying is rife, also pushes many young meddies over the edge. 

Very recently, in my country, Australia, 
3 junior doctors took their lives within one week. 


One of those young doctors, a passionate advocate for medical students took her own life. 


THREE. YOUNG. LIVES...

With so much to look forward to.

In. One. Week. 

2 people I knew took their own life last year. 
1 was an old school mate of mine. 


What can we do about it then? I guess that's the question that remains. 

Well, dealing with how doctors perceive themselves and mental illness is one step in the right direction. 

This great TED Talk, one of the highest rated of all time I believe, discusses the expectation of doctor perfection, and how this counter-intuitively actually worsens patient outcomes. 




When doctors feel they have to be perfect, that their mistakes are their fault, a great burden is placed on their head. 

It's important to be competent, don't get me wrong. But this unreal expectation of perfection is what, as Brian Goldman points out here, is only harming doctors more. 

We're not learning from it right now. There's no mandatory reporting of issues or near misses in hospitals. More recently, at a quality and safety lecture I attended, I learned there was one in our hospitals in my state in Australia, but that it was under-utilized, and something feared by doctors, as opposed to the learning tool it was intended to be. 

Something as simple as a place for doctors to confess mistakes, and seek sympathy from other doctors, could change the lives of hundreds of thousands of silently suffering, perfection seeking, burned out medicos. And it could improve patient outcomes too. 

Of course, it needs to be a done in a sensitive manner. Perhaps confidentially, with identification being made impossible. Though it's horrible that some die due to lapses in doctors' concentration, as pointed out in this article, overworked doctors, facing physical and emotional stress, are less competent ones. Hundreds of thousands will die due to medical error this year alone - medical error is estimated to be the third highest killer in the American medical system. 

The numbers are alarming, to be sure. But not learning from mistakes, not making diagnostic/prescribing/treatment processes better, and not giving doctors a place to vent, and relax, is only going to increase this number if anything. 



A great TED talk by a very interesting man - Atul Gawande (highly recommend his books on medicine and how to fix it), discussing a simple process which reduced mortality in surgeries by as much as 40% - a checklist. These little innovations and improvements are necessary to accomplish the end goal of saving more lives and reducing suffering!  


But reducing medical error alone isn't the only way we can ease doctors' strife. 

Loss is something many doctors have to face too. 


I can only imagine how going to work everyday, knowing that you're going to witness suffering, pain and death can be soul-wrenching. I certainly do feel disillusioned when walking through wards and seeing the same story, of a seemingly nice person, suddenly finding their health deteriorating, and then, in most cases, having some scars from all this tail them for life. 


It wasn’t easy. It never is at first. Especially when it’s someone you’ve really connected with.

I can’t imagine how you doctors can deal with it. This is how I dealt, and deal with mine though...

When George passed… I was devastated. It shouldn’t have happened. Not just because he was so young, not just because he’d left a baby behind, but because it was so sudden. So unexpected. Just so unfair.

And I was bereaved. Inconsolable. But silently suffering. For weeks.

I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was going through depression. That was the first time I did. That someone so young, innocent, someone who I’d helped grow to overcome so many battles and someone who I thought would make it could go so soon made me question why bother at all? In the face of so much struggle, so much of which that we couldn’t resolve… Why bother facing anything at all? It didn’t make sense.




I stayed that way for weeks. Scrolling down Facebook, watching Youtube video after Youtube video… unfeeling, uncaring. Questioning why continue at all? Until one day, I talked to someone about it. My father. He came up and hugged me from behind, and just held me.

And I asked him, “why do we bother?” He’d sensed I was going through something. He didn’t know why. But he did. A parent’s intuition maybe.

He said, “Nikhil. Look. Everyone in this world will die someday.” An abrupt start to what I’d expected would be an inspiring, or inappropriate joke, something frequently gushing from his mouth to be sure. But he continued, “We can’t control that. What we can control, is what we do in our lives. We focus on doing our responsibility, and that’s all, as best as we can. And where we can, we leave this place a better state than we found it in.”

I saw then, something I believe is a fundamental truth of humanity.

The feeling of helping someone, of being an active member of a community, in the essential sense of the connection that humans need to survive. 

I'd always wanted to help people. It was just the right thing to do, it seemed. It's why I'd wanted to do medicine. Cancer just cemented that. But I realised that it also is the best thing you can do, not just for others, but also yourself. 

Because that feeling of putting a smile on someone's face, or easing someone's struggles... unlike things like fame, money, power, men or women - all those things we seem to desire most in life, that can never be taken away from you. That will never seem meaningless. That's something you can always do.

And I want to share 1 unwaverable truth to all the doctors, medical staff, and regular people out there reading this...


No matter how dire things seem, no matter how much you feel like you're just a cog in this machine which keeps churning out pain and death, no matter how much you feel hope, and powerless - YOU CAN, and DO, ALWAYS MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
No matter what the outcome.
Because what made my doctors special wasn't the medical calls they made or their knowledge and prowess, what made my doctors REALLY special to me was the times they'd talk about my biking progress or my basketball before an appointment (that alone mitigated the 1 - 2 hour wait to see them)... the time one doctor walked alongside me and chatted on the way to a lung plural biopsy which I knew was gonna hurt. It was the time my doctor decided to write in to the medical entrance board and allow me to sit the exams that would allow me to become a med student. THAT'S WHAT MADE THEM SPECIAL... to ME.

I've sat down with men who were dying's families and held their hands as they knew they were about to go, and been told by their family that that night we played snakes and ladders a few days before he passed was something he remembered on his deathbed itself. That the barbecue one friend had on father's day, when a companion of mine in hospital had finally gotten gate-leave on Father's day was the best barbecue and one of the best meals he'd had in his life. But to those reading this, I also want you to know also that you don't have to go this far to create change. Because the little things are Huge. They not only give fleeting happiness to your patients, your small gestures, and make you feel HUGELY cared for too as a patient... something that I realised I hadn't felt when I had severe, suicidal depression for a year until I visited my old doctor, who'd treated me first (thank God I didn't take that jump on that day.)... They also make you realise, at a doctor, that YOU ARE making a difference.That YOU DO matter... Those little acts of kindness reinvigorate you.
And if you take that opportunity to be the light in peoples' darkest day, instead of going into work everyday thinking "Oh here we go, another 12 hour shift where I'm looking after people I can't even listen to me, yet alone help or save", "you'll be thinking, "whose day can I make... whose pain can I ease... whose LIFE can I change?" And that's huge. It's the difference between this being a job and a profession. It's the difference between being run down or turning to alcohol or drugs to get by, and feeling fulfilled. It's the difference between life and death. So go out there and take every opportunity you can to do it. When you have a spare few minutes, take a few moments to see what allied health services around you can do to help improve quality of life for your patients and refer people to social workers to see how you can improve their lifestyles. They've made huge changes to my life, and so many others. It takes a median of 15 years for people to go see a pain clinic, for instance. Let's fix that.


A reason why people won't come in when they need to - "Oh why wait that long for something that won't help anyway"
And if you still feel sometimes down despite it all, please, do get help. The biggest reasons doctors don't seek help is fear for their career, or what their peers will think about them. If that's you, let me tell you this. I'm a man who used his mind to find a way of smiling, despite his cancer, 3 days after being told he'd had it at 17. I'm a man who's ridden 200km 2 months after chemo for cancer charity. I'm a man one who's running 2 social enterprises, one of which will save HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS and BILLIONS in healthcare expenditure and most importantly... I'm man who found a way to smile after he'd been told he'd relapsed and that palliative care was a very good option in JUST 10 MINUTES...

But I still couldn't outthink depression. I still was miserable, despite my fighting against it and willing myself on, again and again. I still went into that deep dark place of wondering what's my point in my mind when the pain I face struck. If others think are thinking you're weak... then they'd better have done more than me. Otherwise, whoever is or would, is someone who doesn't understand something that should be basic knowledge. Someone judgemental and incapable of thinking outside the tiny little box that guides their life experience. Someone beneath your concern, someone who you wouldn't want to befriend anyway. Someone you shouldn't worry about, or let get into your way to becoming the most content version of yourself - something you do deserve, no matter what depression makes you feel otherwise. I say this because one of the other biggest reasons we don't get help is because we're embarrassed.


Sometimes that person is yourself. Most of us are strong people. We power on. We've gotten through gruelling pre-med studies, then through medical schools and internship and everything that comes with the job, or in the struggle to get there. We can beat this. Or we can't be one of those losers or sadsacks or whiners who suffers. We just get on with it. Scraping by, as some of us always have. But getting help isn't the "weak" option. You don't get anything out of beating it. Why risk proving it to yourself, or put it off, or dismiss it as unnecessary, or just chinning up, and putting on a facade when you can get help to get you through it. And I can tell you that when I got help, this all changed. Instead of walking in front of a train that day, I decided to walk across the street from the lab I worked in to see my old doctor, tired, cramping and feeling so alone. And thankfully, he was there. He just sat there, talked, and acted as any person would for another. He did what any doctor should do. He cared for me. As well as took care of me. He sent me to emergency, something you guys reading on mostly likely wouldn't have to do, and I saw a psychiatrist. When I saw her, she said I wasn't despondent, and didn't need admitting, but would require therapy, for some time. When I asked about an SSRI (I'd noticed something was wrong for weeks), I remembered tbere was a drug I'd looked up for my unexplainable, untreatable cramping called duloxetine. I suggested it instead of the one she'd prescribed... and on day 2 of it... I not only lost this fog that was clouding my brain for a year every single day that I now know was depression, I also stopped feeling the pain. I'd felt as good as I had for years! Since before cancer. But it wasn't just a drug that got me there, and got me to stay there. It was talking to someone about it. My psychiatrist, he mainly does psychotherapy. Indeed, his goal is to minimise drugs (indeed, I've eliminated all of my psychiatric;neurological ones for that depression currently), and I recommend seeing someone who does too - maybe a psychologist, perhaps your nations' doctor - doctor help line or mental health service (something I found out at that national doctors' conference that we did for the first time). It seems confronting to do - open yourself up and admit things that you've never admitted before - to others or yourself - but the very things that make it seem confronting are the very reasons why it's great. What you say, can never leave his or her office. You'll never see them in day to day life, or even have to see them again if you don't want to. They are literally professionals at their jobs. And whatever you say to them, they legally can't disclose to anyone! I encourage you to take that first step of reaching out to one, if you haven't before, and think you may benefit. And finally, I'd like to say thanks. You may not hear it a lot as doctors. It seems we patients are becoming less and less grateful over the years, but you guys really to matter to us. You see 20, 30, some of you, even 50 or 60 (in India, that's common according to my Uncle), but we only see 1. It seems like a huge burden when you put it that way. But it's also a huge opportunity. I hope what I've said convinces you to seize it with all your heart. Nikhil

If you'd like to talk. I'm always here.
Suicide hotlines: 13 11 14 - Lifeline Australia. Add a +61 after your international dialing requirement and punch this number if you don't have an alternative.

American: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org

UK: Samaritins: 116 123


And I'd like to announce what I'm doing for the first time on this blog. I've started up a social enterprise that'll, as said above, save hundreds of thousands and billions of dollars a year! Check it out at www.gettosleepeasy.org - here's what it is. 






Thursday, June 22, 2017

Depression is Worse Than Cancer. How I'm Finally Beating It.


Last post:                                     My Story:                                         Next One
So. A lot of you know, I've been pretty down recently.

Cancer's tough, I'm sure you can appreciate that. I did for sure before starting treatment. But that fear, by acknowledging it, I somehowturned it into a positive... It meant I wasn't kidding myself. That when the tough things came, which I knew they would, I wouldn't break, but rather look at why they were doing this to me - to get me better. It'd allow me to be human, cry, grimace, scream in frustration and pain when I needed to. Break down a few times. But in the end... it left me only one way to go. Up. A talk I did on this topic - click here to see that!

The thing I couldn't forsee though was how tough life after cancer would be. Chronic graft versus host disease is what I have; the upshot of having someone else's immune cells in you to attack the cancer was that they'd also attack you.
I've got one of the worst cases you can have of it without being terminal. But the major thing that gets me still, even to this day, is the cramps.

They strike at anytime, but happen pretty much everyday, and over time, they've only gotten worse.

There wasn't a night where I wouldn't scream a few months ago. I still do at times. I often can't do something as simple as rolling around in bed without every muscle in my body - from my calves to my forearms and chest, to even my jaw, neck and forehead - firing all at once.


The stories are true. When I cramp, I do turn into a middle aged white dude.


I lived my life one cost benefit analysis at a time. Was it worth getting up to going out to catch up friends if it'd leave me screaming for days afterwards? Was worth it to get that glass of water even though my throat was parched, if it’d induce a round of cramps? Was it worth it to get up and pee, or should I just scream and wake my parents and brother up to bring me the pee bottle when I was busting at 2am?

That was my life. It has been for the last 2, well, now I think about it, nearly 3 years.

But something I didn't notice at the time, despite all the writing I've done about it, despite me telling everyone else to go out and get help for it, despite all the talks I've given and people I've talked to, was that I was going through depression too.

It's hard to recognise it. I'd been through it before...When I lost a friend to a similar disease, a man who left a baby girl, wife,and devastated brother and parents behind to something I'd beat. I couldn't see a point to all this. All I did was scroll down Facebook, watch YouTube videos, unfeeling, unwilling to even move out of bed for weeks, months on end. I did get through it...
What helped was something I didn't realise I needed to do at the time, talking about it, with Dad. And eventually, I did realise I was going through something and found a way to give myself purpose again. To honour and respect my friend, John's, memory, by doing what HE would have wanted for me anyway - being as happy and successful as possible. And working as hard as I could so others wouldn't suffer and John and his family did. In any way possible.

I did all that... I'd felt the same feelings, but even then, I didn't notice what I was going through 'til one night, when trying medical marijuana funnily enough, I realised that I hadn't laughed, or smiled, or felt comforted in a while.

And I hadn't. I really really handn't.


Actual images of me in a down spell. It's true.. I do become whiter when I'm depressed. 


The cramps, the pain I was feeling was affecting me, I know now, moulding me, shaping me, into a person living in fear, and without hope for a future, or even a night without pain.

I was living in a fog. One that'd slow my mind down. Making it difficult to concentrate, or muster up the courage to even get out of a chair, yet alone think about my research, play a game of poker, or go out with friends. Combined with cramps that would contort my hands into the semblance of a still spider, and leave typing out study for the toughest year of medicine and looking through articles a near impossibility that I had to make possible, One. Awkward. Finger. At a time... I felt I was stuck.

My doctor didn't make it easier. She, possibly out offrustration at my constant "pestering" of wanting more than await-and-see, maximising conformity whilst minimising comfort and reliefapproach, told me at one point that there's not just nothing they could do for my situation, but that there never would be. That research into a non-specific symptom like cramps will never happen. That she thought I'd eventually require an intense, risky procedure for my disease, one that showed marginal benefit in me and one that took away my left eye. That my suffering would never end.

She'd prematurely confirmed what I was already prone to feeling in my mind - that I was doomed to a half-life, filled with struggle, pain, failure and eventually death. Without once referring me to a pain doctor, or a rheumatologist, or immunologist or ANYONE for a second opinion.
I'd looked up everything in Graft-Versus-Host-Disease and cramps myself. I knew that there wasn't much out there…

But her words were the nail in my coffin.

Confirmation of what I was thinking in my mind. Fuel for what I was already feeling, what many do... that death would be much easier than living.

I'd made plans. I fantasised about it at the peaks of my pain. That an end around the corner was in sight.

JUST THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A SECOND.

How sad do you have to be to feel that?
It isn’t just me who’s felt this though. Many who are depressed, anxious, or going through tough times do.

Imagine living that way for a year... Or for your whole life..

A talk I did, on the 5 Biggest Myths about Depression. 


Now think about this.

I'm a man who, at the age of 17, when told he had a 10-20% chance of SURVIVING 6 years ago, managed to find a second way of looking at things - an attitude that would lead to me fishing for sharks AFTER MY FIRST, MOST INTENSE CHEMO, that would help me smile even in the depths of hell itself. I’ve accomplished so many things… I've completed a 200km bike ride 2 months after 15 rounds of maintainence chemo, I’ve flown off to Vegas to win tens of thousands for myself, and thousands for charity, against the best poker players in the world, but most importantly, I’m a man who found something to smile about TEN MINUTES AFTER BEING TOLD I'D RELAPSED, AND THAT PERHAPS PALLIATIVE CARE WAS ONE OF THE BEST OPTIONS TO TAKE...

And yet I still couldn't outthink depression...

I tried to. Many times. I applied my own thought process - I took a step back and fought off my doubts and fears one at a time. I told myself that "when I was in pain, just relax, and take it easy," that "It's only temporary, and that in the big picture, it's well worth it for the things I enjoyed." that I should "Watch Tom n Jerry and just chillax for a little bit." Anything, and everything, to pull myself out.

But when the pain came... when that fog struck... when my hopes of a good day, or just a break from it all would get dashed... all those self-assurances, all those strategies would fly out the window, and I'd be brought back into hell.

I say this to assure you, that it's not something you can just outthink sometimes.

I say this to show that you can and should get help, for yourself or someone who you love.

I say this because you do deserve a way to get through this. A way to deal with depression.

I say this because, as I’m so glad to announce... I recently found one.

For so long I suffered, silently. I didn’t even recognise that that fog, and my pain, was worsened by depression… And I’m someone who writes about it, has looked deeply into the hows and whys as it all, I’m someone who’d been through it before, and lifted others out it too.

The first step I took to get there came at a critical juncture.

I was at the lab one day, just a few months ago, pushing my body as hard as I could to get through the day’s work.

It was Friday. And I planned to reward myself, by going to a poker game in the city, one I’d been preparing for, for some time now.

I didn’t wanna keep going. I hated this. The pain. The dependence. The lack of ability to even move at night without more pain. And I seriously thought about lying down on the train tracks and ending it.

But as I left the Ingham Institute, I saw the cancer clinic I’d gone to for a long time, a part of Liverpool Hospital.

I remembered my first doctor. The words he said to me at thestart. How he’d saved me before.

And I went to him.

And thank God he was there.

He sat down with me for a bit. We talked. He asked, “Are you just over it?” And I couldn’t help but break down in his arms and say, “Yes.”

He got me to go to emergency.

I’d asked, and been referred to see a psychologist weeks ago, but the referral papers hadn’t been sent by the receptionist yet. I’m sure people have died waiting for that red tape to be cut.

He made sure I saw one straight away.

And after talking to one, they suggested that I wasn’t in immediate danger, and I wasn’t despondent or anything. But they suggested putting me an SSRI (an antidepressant) while I waited to see a psychiatrist at length.

I pulled out my phone, looked up those treatments I’d founddespite my doctors’ insistence that I wasn’t going to be helped, and found one that helped in a similar disorder to mine – fibromyalgia. I asked her if she could prescribe that instead.

Its name is duloxetine. After day 2 of taking it… My pain reduced significantly.
I’m talking 90% significantly.

The cramps were still there, and they were still debilitating, but they didn’t impact me as much anymore.

But just as important as my medications was me talking about it to someone. A pretty cool psychiatrist, one who’s been in the business for decades, one who has similar aches and pains as me, and one who gives remarkably sound advice for how to deal with situations.
But the most important thing I did was, when I started feeling bad - even though I found something that reduced my pain, the pain was still bad sometimes -  I started writing down what would get me back up.

Before I got help, I would reflect on myself, and try to give myself advice for getting out of there. But not only are you more affected, more “triggered” by words, and events (I know some of you may scoff at my using this word, but you really are less “able” to control your emotions when you’re down) when you’re down, you also forget not just what things, or thought processes would get you back up, but how feeling up even feels like. You feel trapped. Or else, your mind makes you comfortable at this low level.

Me writing down, in a short, bullet-point format (as opposed to these chunky blogs), in a place I could always go – Google Documents – allowed me to remember all the advice people, and I myself had given to get through rough patches. Here it is if you wanna do it on your own - feel free to copy some bits (though I highly recommend seeing someone you can feel obligated to listen to and fulfil these goals to add some positive pressure and professional opinions into your own case!)

I have it organised under various headings. For instance – I’ll have a heading, “How to bust out of down spells” and actions to take to help do just that.

Under that, I’ll link a YouTube playlist of songs I have that fill my body with drive.




Watch out. Pumping up is very likely. Use at your own discretion
. 
I’ll remind myself, that though there’s pain in starting to exercise, or even getting out of bed, I feel SOOO much better about myself after I complete a workout… I cramp so much less once I start moving a bit.

Under another heading, “Anxiety”, I’ll have tips of things that could distract me when I simply can’t fall asleep. I’ll have distractions – Tom n Jerry, I remember once, when I was having a panic attack, when my mind couldn’t stop thinking about anything and everything – that silly, cathartic, simple show slowed my mind down. It made me laugh.

I’ll also remind myself to stop catostrophising,” a buzzword my psychiatrist mentioned recently, which pinpoints exactly what I’d do when facing a health crisis. Though I’ve had bad experiences with doctors recently, and though researching my own disease has helped me when doctors have all but given up twice, the doctors in emergency do know what to do when someone has seratonergic syndrome. They can diagnose and treat infections. There are still many, many great doctors out there, for all eh ones in between.
And I also remind myself to be human. When going through anxiety, being told to “Just stop worrying,” or to “Just go to sleep,” is often more frustrating than helpful. What’s really needed is a huge and comfort, as this puts perfectly. But in tackling the root fears beneath my anxiety, my fears that my disease is impacting my mind, my mistrust of doctors and fear about my own worries – I knew how to deal with it. I’d done it for some social anxiety I had before. I knew I could get there, but that it’d just take time to become the “old me” who could let things go.
The document is here – for you guys to view and perhaps construct yourself.
It’s still under construction. It always will be. We can always improve.
Interesting to note, these are all things I’ve written and advised you guys, my readers, to do before.
But just as important as that, for me, was making sure that I could recognise the signs myself, and give myself a cue to get to this document.
To do that, I decided to conduct some self-CBT – cognitive behavioural therapy; the art of using physical cues to help people use refined thought process to tackle mental illnesses.
I found a symbol of me – and I carry it around with me all the time now.
A shark tooth.


an actual, 100% legit picture of my chest. Taken from: https://www.etsy.com/listing/235077778/mens-cross-necklacemens?ref=pla_similar_listing_top-5


Not only is it a physical cue that’ll prompt me to go back to that document when I can’t get out, not only does it look cool – it also takes me back to some amazing times I’ve had in my life. The primal joy of pulling up my first shark while fishing. The feeling of contentment after emerging victorious in a large poker tournament I played last year (a shark is a good player in poker). Whenever I grasp it, I can’t help but smile.

And together, with me regularly seeing someone, and along with some medication, I’ve been able to get myself to a place where I can truly say, “I’m happy,” much more often.

As I, and you deserve to.

You, reading on, or your loved ones, or patients, or friends, may not need those medications. In fact, we as a society are probably over medicated. Low grade depression is more effectively treated through psychotherapy, talking about it, and it comes with lower side effects too.




Unfortunately, those who do need the meds, are those least likely to be on them.
It’s hard to pull yourself up when you’ve been down for so long that it’s your whole life.
But believe me – by giving yourself someone to talk to, and by using a system, similar or dissimilar to mine – you CAN get there.

And I hope this helps you do that.

Feel free to message me with any questions or anything really in regards to this. I’m always here to help.
nikhilthegrizzlybear@gmail.com

  



  

Sunday, December 18, 2016

The 5 Biggest Myths About Depression and Suicide.

As a cancer patient, I actually think depression is harder to get through than cancer... At least with cancer, I had my mind on my side.
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2016 has been a bad year. 
For me, it's become even worse. 

2 real life friends, one of my readers and a child whose grade I was coaching for basketball had taken their own lives. 

Depression and suicidal thoughts is something I've faced over the last few years, and not for the reasons you'd expect. I think I'm going through a tough spell right now... 

I had to do something - so recently, I finally managed to shoot and edit this. A comprehensive video busting the 5 biggest myths about depression. 

It's long, I know, but the final myth is the most important one to bust. The biggest myth about depression is one that those going through it impose on themselves - that it's something you just have to live with. That it can't be beaten, or managed. That it's gonna follow you around for life.

If you, or anyone you know are going through some rough times, please show them this. Hell, I'd love it if everyone could see this video. But I'll settle for 99% of people =P 

And also - I wanna let any of you who may be suffering know that I'm always here for you. 

Always.