Dealing with Depression

A few weeks ago, Nicole Deboom (the founder of Skirt Sports) reached out to our ambassador group to see if any of us had ever struggled with depression and wanted to share how we coped. I answered the call and sent in my story.

Her article in Women's Running magazine was published last week, just as we heard news of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain.

Something I told Nicole was that I don't believe exercise alone is ever enough to treat real, clinical depression. The idea that you can exercise your depression away is actually something that feeds into the stigma that depression and mental illness aren't "real" medical conditions that need real treatment. The movement against "big pharma" and medicinal intervention is dangerous and shames people, making seeking treatment even more difficult.

I am grateful that she included that insight in her article. You can read it here.

When Nicole posted the article on Facebook, she said: "My biggest takeaway is that the healing can't start until you can safely talk about your depression and anxiety. That is #1. I actually thought that through my research process I would find that exercise was the key to healing and health. What I found is that while exercise plays a part, it is not the primary key to healing. Many factors come into play."

I've written about my depression here before, but never so explicitly. I am trying to be better about speaking out, so that others who suffer can feel empowered to do so, too.

Healing, recovery, coping, and remission look different for everyone. If you're still looking for what works for you, maybe you'll find something useful in this article.

ABK

Calf Update: Not Very Good News

This was not a good day.

I had my appointment at the vascular surgeon's for a pressure test on Monday, April 17. I met with the nurse practitioner because I wasn't able to get an appointment with the doctor until April 27. We went over my symptoms again. Then, a lab tech took my blood pressure in my arms, thighs, calves, ankles, and big toes. She used an ultrasound pen to double-check my BP in my thighs, calves, and ankles.

Weird, to hear my heartbeat coming out of my feet.

Then I did five minutes of calf raises to get that lovely burning sensation, and we tested everything again.

Then, she did a full scan of both legs, from groin to ankle; she spent extra time behind my knees to rule out peripheral arterial disease (PAD).

Then they brought me in to see the doctor. I'd been told he was too busy to see me, so knowing he was making time for me immediately brought a sense of dread. He broke the news. They'd ruled out PAD and other vascular issues, so barring bilateral tears (still a possibility but unlikely) it's probably compartment syndrome. That's unlikely too - a rare diagnosis. But less rare than bilateral calf tears.

His suggestion was that I "find another exercise". That I "take up biking."

"I am going to be running at 90," I told him and started crying. I felt stupid for crying, but I was so caught off-guard the emotions just kind of took over. When I had control, I asked some followup questions. What's the next step? What if I elect to have surgery, a fasciotomy, the only real "cure"? He recommended against it because of the risk of scarring, but agreed to help me seek a second opinion for testing and treatment.

When the doctor stepped out again, the nurse practitioner took over. She was really nice, and explained that sometimes male doctors don't get it, that she could see running is my passion.

I cried on the drive home. I wasn't sure why I was so upset; maybe because hearing "You should give up running" was the last thing I expected. Maybe because the doctor had treated me like a vain little girl who would care about surgical scars and because he clearly doesn't get that running is more than just my preferred means of exercise.

When I came home I tried to look like everything was fine, but Matt took one look at me and asked, "What's wrong?"

"They said I can never run again." I tried to make it a joke. But then I started crying. Again. And I explained against his chest that this wasn't really the case, that we have ruled out PAD and the doctor thinks I have compartment syndrome after all. That the cure is a fasciotomy resulting in horrendous scars or to take up another form of exercise.

That the doctor highly recommended biking. That he said most of his female patients regret the surgery because the scars are so bad.

I think that's what brought me to tears. That he would speak to me like that, telling me that "young women" don't like the scars. Like scars matter. I have scars. I embrace the history of my scars. Our bodies are made to be lived in and banged about. No one is scarless. I am not scared of scars.

I can't give up running. Running saved my life. It changed who I am wholly and completely. And I still have goals to meet. A sub-5:00 full marathon. A 2:05 half. A sub-60 10k. A sub-26:00 5k. The Loch Ness Marathon.

It seems silly; I'm a hobby runner. I'm not winning any races. I'm not an elite racer who makes a living off this. But I can't give up running...not without a fight. And not for fear of scars.

So. The plan.

I'm still in pain from the exercises on Monday. Once this dissipates, I'll try running a bit. Intervals. Then, if the pain comes back for real, I'll see if my insurance company will allow for an MRI now. And I'll schedule an actual pressure test, complete with needles and pressure gauges, like my calves are some kind of a messed up basketballs.

And if that test is positive and it really is compartment syndrome, I'll have the surgery over the summer. Five weeks of recovery time and then, hopefully, pain free runs and some storytelling scars for the rest of my life.

Having a plan isn't making me feel any better because the lingering pain in my calves tells me running isn't going to work out right now.  It's Friday, and my legs still hurt so much it takes me two minutes to stand up - slow, slow, careful - and I'm walking with ginger, timid steps. I was prepared to hear this was nothing; I was taking silly pictures of myself hooked up to the BP machine before the hammer dropped. I don't feel like I run enough to get a diagnosis like this. It's like the injury doesn't fit the athlete.

And we don't know yet, for certain. So I should be trying to stay positive. But I feel like I'm grieving, and I'm pissed and frustrated. I don't feel happy to have an answer because I don't really have a real answer yet. Waiting is worse.

Maybe, if this goes the way I'm imagining, I'll feel happy five weeks post-op when I can run without pain. And that will be August.

I did talk to a Sub-30 Club friend about this; she had a bilateral fasciotomy for compartment syndrome years ago. She doesn't regret it. She can finally run without pain. Her scars are noticeable but far from terrifying. She made me feel much better about the option. It feels viable, knowing someone who had it done.

But I just wish I weren't in a position to have to make the choice.

Sorry this is long and maudlin and a little all-over the place. Obviously my head is full of things right now and this was the best way to try to wrap my mind around it all.

ABK

Some Thoughts on the Year's End

You know what's funny about running short for a year? You start to notice how many people set a yearly mileage goal and how weirdly arbitrary that is, especially when some of the mileage goals are really high but don't take any racing or training into account. I wonder if people who don't reach those rather lofty goals for yearly mileage feel bad about it as December 31st draws to a close.

But like...why?

Run 2016 miles in 2016...run 1000...run 400...Whatever. As long as it's bringing you joy and giving you a purpose.

This fall and winter have been hard for me mentally and emotionally. I am not a naturally optimistic person, so I've put a lot of energy into being more positive when it comes to running and fitness; over the last few years, this shift in mentality has really worked and been beneficial to my running, and it spread into other aspects of my life. It's frustrating to not be able to get back into that mindset after being knocked out of it a bit.

I don't think 2017 will magically bring a new perspective and easy optimism back into my life. I'm not that naive. But I hope this funk...this depressive episode...will lift. (I'm also not naive enough to think "hope" alone will do it, so if it looks like more is necessary, then I'll do more.)

Anyway, I do hope the winter holidays have given you all time to relax, unwind, and reconnect where it counts. I hope 2017 brings opportunities, joy, and purpose into your lives. Maybe this will be the year that you overcome whatever has held you back from realizing a dream, taking a risk, or going on an adventure.

Whatever you determine 2017 will mean for you, I hope you have a safe and happy New Year!

ABK

I'm Grieving, but I'm Ready to Fight

How do you write a post about this? A few of you have, and they're honest and poignant and so well-said. I feel so emotionally fragile right now that I don't think I can do the one thing I can always rely on: use my words. So I'm sorry if this is wordy and rambling and messy. This is all my head and heart could do right now.

I am devastated. Over the last few days, I've cried dozens of times. I'm a person who's interested in politics - my parents raised me to care about the state of the world and my impact on it - and because my friends know that about it, it means that my phone was blowing up and my notifications were haywire on Tuesday. I had to turn it off and sit in the dark. I'm still being tagged in political posts and sent messages of "have you seen this?!" and I just am ignoring everything right now because I can barely function as it is.

Tuesday, I fell into a restless sleep until Matt came to bed at 2:30am. I rolled over and asked, "Is it bad news?" And he whispered, "Yes." And then we just clung to each other.

Like grief, it's hitting me in waves. I'm crying as I hear kids as young as 6 and 7 coming off the buses at school, talking about how much they don't like him, that he's mean, that they're scared. Their little faces are so worried and drawn. I cry behind my sunglasses.

I check my phone midday and it's a gut-punch to see his face on my twitter, my Facebook, in texts. Volleyball takes me mind off it; I cry on the way home. I go for a run - it helps a little. I cry in the shower after.

And it needs to be said: white women were complicit in this outcome. He couldn't have won if they hadn't voted for him. A much-too-high percentage of educated white women voted for this monster, and I am ashamed. I will do better to do more next time.

And I - as a white woman whose minority status can so easily be hidden - I don't feel I have a right to be as hurt as I am. But I am not grieving for myself. It does hurt, to know that once more people will choose a man, no matter how truly vile, over an eminently qualified woman. But what hurts more is thinking of those whose lives will be undoubtedly and horrifically altered by this reality.

I think of Elizabeth, who worries for her immigrant husband and step-daughter. I think of Scott and Robby, just months ago so glad they could be legally married anywhere and adopt children in the future. I think of the few Muslim students at our school who have always stood out due to their hijab and who now may be fearful of that fact. I think of the 80% of our students who are immigrants or first-generation Americans. I think of my friends battling chronic illnesses that, thanks to Obamacare, they finally had under control and could afford to treat. I think about my friends' young children and the wasteland our world may become in their lifetime because of climate change denial. Not to mention the global threat of war and economic collapse that we're looking at if this president-elect keeps ties with Russia, flouts the UN, and treats our allies like garbage. I think of the strangers in these situations, people I've never met and never will meet, living in earnest, genuine, and justified fear because of the hatred and violence this man has sown.

This man, who will be our president.

This man, who has the House, Senate, and at least two seats on the Supreme Court on his side. We're looking at decades of damage in our future.

To leave this country would be to let them win, to let regressive policies and dangerous racism take root. I imagine the Jews in 1930s Germany whose neighbors hid them in their walls and beneath their floors and did what they could in the face of fascism, and I want to be that person who will put myself on the line for what is right.

I hope it never comes to that, but this tide of hatred won't be easily reversed.

So what can we do now? Donate to organizations that fight hate. Tell those in your life who may be targeted that you love them and are thinking of them. Touch base with them frequently. Don't be silent. Keep speaking up against the propaganda, the lies, the people who tell you that you must respect this man because now he is president.

I refuse to cower. This election lit a fire in me because I truly admire and respect Hillary Clinton and knew she would be the best president - not just this year, but any year. The harsh reality of her losing proves to me how much we needed her to win, and that we still have a long way to go in this country.

I am heartbroken, but in time I will rise again stronger, angrier, smarter, and ready to fight.

Organizations to consider donating to: Environmental Defense Fund, Planned Parenthood, Human Rights Campaign, and the American Civil Liberties Union.

Please, if you know organizations that will help in this fight, post them in the comments below.

ABK

Clean Slate

I know I'm late, seeing as April started twelve days ago, but I'm calling this week a fresh start. Things were hard; they're steadily getting better.

My kids are starting their research unit, which is simultaneously my favorite and least favorite time of year. I love watching them delve into a topic of their choice. It's a chance for them to genuinely enjoy exploring their curiosity and learning new things; I hate the micromanaging that has to happen in order to get them all to the finished product without plagiarizing or giving up.

It's a stressful unit for all of us.

My students are so used to being told what to lookup and what to learn that brainstorming and thinking up their own ideas is the hardest part. Once they get started, they actually usually enjoy the research process! It's really gratifying to see.

So far some the topics I've seen are: Olympic figure skaters, serial killers, various genres of music, martial arts, video games, and heart surgery.

Elizabeth and I have been motivating each other into a little overhaul of our habits this week. I don't have a car at the moment (another reason for my stress these past couple weeks), so I'm dependent on her for rides to and from school...which means that if she holds me hostage after work to do a T25 workout, then I'm obliged to stay.

Feeling some good endorphins after T25 in Elizabeth's classroom.

It also means I can't drive to a starting place of my choice to run, but tonight I finally looked that excuse in the eye and went out our back door to the golf course for the first time in months.

Keeping each other accountable.

Also new this week: I finished a really good book (Blood Song by Anthony Ryan. The sequel was okay and I'm not sure I'll read the concluding novel, but the first was seriously amazing) and I've been listening to Halsey's "Gasoline" nonstop.

I also replenished my wardrobe with some new Skirt Sports gear, so I'm excited to have a chance to wear it. Nothing motivates me to workout like new clothes.

I got two Lioness skirts (in Free Love and Safari), a Peek-a-Boo skirt in Safari, a Take Five tank in Gray Stardust and an Eclipse tank (in Free Love - I'm wearing it in Safari in the T25 pic above). I'm totally set for summer running!

Finally, I want to say thanks for your kind words on my last post. The worst has (hopefully) passed regarding the school issues. I'm finally feeling a little more normal; I was feeling pretty hollow and distant there for awhile. Like it was taking all my energy just to exist. I do think I've turned a corner. Now it's just about working to stay on the right path.

What have you been listening to lately?
What was/is your favorite project in school?
Are you getting any new gear for summer running?

ABK

Real Life

This week was emotionally just...so hard.

It's not something I want to or can go into, but this week our school family has been dealing with some really hard stuff. I've had to put a lot of myself into work to support our students and my colleagues (and myself), so in my free time I've withdrawn into myself a little to help me get through it. I know I've been absent from the blog scene this week...but I had to step back and take care of myself. I needed the quiet time.

I've been resting.

I'm not sure how to get back to a place where running and exercise will be life-giving instead of a burden, where interacting with others is a joy. But I guess this post is a good step forward.

ASCD this past weekend was good. I picked up a lot of information and tools for my classes. We also got to listen to Manny Scott, one of the students whose story was featured in Freedom Writers. His story was unbelievably moving and his delivery was fantastic. It's probably the most memorable moment from the conference.

The convention was good, but the funniest part was that our hotel was hosting the annual furry convention. I listen to Dan Savage so these people in animal costumes weren't a mystery to me, but my colleagues were freaked out, entertained, and really interested. We spent all weekend scoping them out and finally worked up the nerve to meet some of them.

As with most things that are strange and new, any preconceived notions dissipated once we'd spent a little time around them. As usual, exposure is fatal to prejudice.

I hope you're all doing well. I've been reading, even if I haven't been commenting. I hope to be around more soon.

ABK

Heartache (Trigger Warning)

I'm going to write this fast and messy, because I need the catharsis.

Tonight I saw a post on Facebook that felt like a punch in the gut. One of the boys in my Birthright trip died by suicide in mid-October.

He was the first person I saw at the airpot in New York while trying to navigate the international flights terminal, which was under construction and basically a maze. He introduced himself and put me at ease. We sat next to each other on the 10 hour plane ride over to the Ukraine. He was my first impression of Birthright, and I can't think of that trip and experience without thinking of him. I am utterly shocked to learn of his passing.

Thinking of him brought back the sharp pain of last year's shock and grief, when I learned that an old homeroom student of mine had died by suicide. She was a sophomore. I remember her as totally and truly herself, someone who loved art and unicorns and had very distinctive handwriting - I can still picture it perfectly. I spent more than 90 minutes a day, five days a week with her for a year. She was literally the last person I would ever think would feel moved to suicide; if I had known, I would have done more. I can't help but think...what small thing could I have done to help her fight a little longer?

And that's the point, I guess. We rarely know if someone is truly struggling, because so often they hide it. Or, if they seek help, we don't always see how serious it is.

So this is just a reminder that if you need help, seek it. This link will take you to a plethora of helplines. If calling is intimidating, Imalive.org and Crisischat.org are two chat-based helplines. Use them if you need to.

Be a listening ear. Support your friends. Let them know you love them and care for them. Be present.

This news is devastating, but I'm going to remember him for the funny, smart, and kind person I experienced the trip of a lifetime alongside.

ABK

My Favorite Photo (Trigger Warning)

Let me be up front about this...I don't really know if I want to be writing this post. It's been swimming around in my head for ages and I know it's a topic that could create hope or change or empowerment for some people, so I should post it.

But it's also really private. Not to those who have known me a long time, not really; but it's not something I talk about much even with them. And while I do share a lot of my life here on the blog, there are some parts that I try not to delve into.

Still, I feel like sometimes being brave means putting things out there, and I've been wanting to put this out there for months. So here it is.

This is my favorite running photo.

It was taken after the Space Coast Marathon as I sat, recovering and crying a little, covered in glory and friends and flowers, sporting my brand new medal. Victorious.

The words on my arms are words from my sister, who wrote me a heart-wrenching good luck card, and Matt, whose usual blunt encouragement leaves no room for disagreement.

And those words, scrawled on my arms before I set off to do something totally life-affirming, something that epitomizes strength and determination, are written over dozens of self-inflicted scars.

You can barely tell in the photo. Most people don't really notice them in person, or if they notice, they have the tact not to ask about them.

But I see them. When I look at this photo, my eyes zero in on this strange meeting of my greatest time of weakness and my greatest moment of strength.

When I look at this photo, I see what my life was and what it has become. I am so grateful; I am humbled; I am in awe. I created those scars during a time in my life when I never imagined I could ever have the strength to turn my pain into something worthwhile. And here they are, obscured by words that prove the simple truth that, yes, I was able to do just that.

I don't know where my running will continue to take me, but I do know that it has already impacted my life in so many ways, and this picture is just one example of how completely I have changed...in part thanks to this sport and all it has given me. This March was my 10th anniversary of being..."clean", I guess you'd say. Some days are harder than others, and on those days, I run.

I know running has changed many of my runner-friends' lives for the better. Do you have a story to share?

ABK

A Run Like That

I don't know what got into me today, but I wasn't feeling right. It started after classes had ended, when my planning period began. I sat down to get some grading done and realized it's only Monday.

We had our first volleyball tryout today, which was really fun...but by the time I got home I was feeling a bit melancholy. It took me longer than I planned to get going for my short recovery run tonight; by the time I got outside, the sun was well below the horizon.

I spent a little time watching that lone heron.

The moon was a perfect silver sliver overhead; the trees burned orange with the last rays of the sun. As it grew darker, frogs crossed my path in droves. The night had cooled. I was the only one on the course.

At one point, I closed my eyes and ran with my arms outstretched.

I used the first mile to warm up, to feel a little alive, to shake off whatever was weighing me down.

At the end, I flew. I pushed my last mile into sub-9s and held it there. I felt my mind and body wake up and come alive...I breathed deeply, felt my lungs open, felt the blood rushing through my body. I felt weightless and free.

Sometimes we just need a run like that.

When's the last time you ran just for the love of it?

ABK

In Memory of Robin Williams

The death of Robin Williams hit me like a physical blow. I know it seems like overreaction, but it's true. He is an actor that defined much of my childhood. The minute I heard, the first person I told was my sister. We grew up watching his movies, laughing and crying and basking in the honest humanity of every character he portrayed. He had a way of making even the funniest characters truly human; he knew how to make people feel. Some of my favorite movies of his are the lesser-known ones, or at least the ones that don't get as much attention or acclaim, like What Dreams May Come, Death to Smoochy, and Bicentennial Man. And of course, as an English teacher, I absolutely adore The Dead Poets Society and Good Will Hunting. 

I know he's had a profound impact on so many people...Matt, who has never cared about celebrity deaths, actually felt moved to the point of posting a Facebook status about it...and that says something, believe it or not. 

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer: that you are here; that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?" - Robin Williams as John Keating, The Dead Poets Society

What strikes me most about his death, beyond how talented and beloved he was, is that it shines a light on depression as something that is sometimes bigger than we are. It's sometimes out of our control; sometimes it just sneaks up and takes hold of us, even those of us who have the money - the means - to "fix" ourselves the way that society wants us to be fixed. Williams had the money to get the best help available, had proof through his amazing body of work that he was successful and loved throughout the world...and yet he got to the point where he could no longer go on. Sometimes we can't escape its grasp. 

I've talked on my blog before about my history and relationship with depression, and it's not really something that I want to go into in depth, but Williams's death is definitely something that hit home. I feel very lucky to be married to man who may not understand depression personally, but who at least understands that it is very real for me, who is willing to be there when I need him to be, and who helps me work through things in the way that I need to work through them.

Running has had a huge impact on my mental health, just as it has on my physical health, but I want to make it clear that often you need more than just a loving family and a healthy outlet in order to beat depression into submission. Please, please, please if this is something that you battle, get the help that you so deserve.

The Suicide Prevention Lifeline - US. Canadian Mental Health Association - information and help for those in Canada. Befrienders Worldwide - to learn how to provide support for those considering suicide.

Williams still had so much to offer the world, and we've truly lost a great man and a huge personality. But I do hope that we can learn from his death that depression and mental illness are real, and they're things that we need to destigmatize so that those who need help are no longer afraid to seek it.

Take care of yourselves.

ABK

An Exceptionally Important Post

This post isn't about running...or it is, but not directly.

This week is Suicide Prevention Week. I've known so many people affected by suicide and depression - some of my favorite people, relatives, closest friends, myself - and no time is better than now to remind everyone that you're valuable and deserve to be here.

I'm not going to go deep into my own story. I don't know yet if I'm ready to air that dirty laundry. But I did battle depression for years, and sometimes I still fight with its sneaky undertow.

Running has made a huge difference in my life and has kept my depression at bay longer than it ever has been. It has helped to ease my anxiety, increase my self-worth, and balance my moods. I've talked a little about it here.

As a teacher, I see students struggling with depression to the point that it leads to self-harm, and that too is very familiar to me. It breaks my heart to see bright, funny, witty, intelligent, critical, and insightful young people battling internally.

The Bloggess has posted an excellent blog entry today full of helpful links and hotlines for anyone needing help and support. Remember that you are not alone; believe it or not, there are people out there who understand your pain and want to help you transcend it.

If you or anyone you know is struggling, please click her post.

Also, To Write Love on Her Arms, an organization geared towards raising awareness and support for teens dealing with depression, is working to remind us all about why we are irreplaceable. It's a great way to remind yourself that you have an impact and make a difference.

They're a great organization! If you are a teen - or know and love a teen - it's worth looking into.

 Another helpful site, especially this week, is PostSecret.

Remember that darkness passes. In the meantime, there are people out there who can help. Don't let depression silence you.

ABK