You know it's going to be a good Sunday when all four kids have broken down in tears and stomped the feet repeatedly and wailing, "I won't go! You can't make me!!"
Ahh, you could just revel in those sweet Sabbath morning sounds.
Usually at least two of my children pitch fits about Church, but this morning was over the top with three of them desperately trying to get out of their weekly ecumenical obligations. See, the Little Cannoli has been sick for the past week and last night she cried and cried. I took her to Urgent Care this morning to get her ears checked, but they were all clear. The doctor looked at me, smiled and said, "It's just cold!" Little Cannoli needed a nap and since she was (is) feverish there was no way she was going to Church. That means one of us adults had to stay home.
After the DH and I negotiated for a good five or six minutes about who needed a nap more (it was super sophisticated of us, "Me!" "I'm SO tired, though!" "Me, too!" "Nu-uh. I'm more tired." "No, I am!" "You have more jobs at Church. You have to go." "Not this week, I don't." "But I don't WANT to!" Yeah, we weren't at our best either. . .) the DH finally bit the bullet and said he would take the kids. Heaven bless him!!
When the kids found out I wasn't going the weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth began. Supergirl E and Mr. J were easily bought off with snacks. But Princess N was holding firm. She had drawn her line in the sand and wasn't budging. There was no way she was going to Church without me unless the DH carried her kicking and screaming. After talking with her for awhile, she admitted she was worried he wouldn't make it to Primary to pick her up on time and she would left all alone in the Primary room. There was more back and forth and finally I said, "You can trust your dad. He will be there. I promise!"
Princess N rolled her eyes, "Pu-lease. Yeah right."
And then it came out of my mouth: "I'm so certain you can trust him that I will give you $3 if he doesn't show up on time."
"Seriously? $3? 300 pennies worth of money?" Her tears immediately dried up and her eyes gleamed like Donald Trump's do every time he fires someone.
"I trust him so much I'm willing to put a bet down," I said. "Not that YOU should ever bet. Especially on a Sunday. Because gambling is bad. . . but your DAD is not."
"$3, huh? All right." She then turned to her siblings, "Hey guys! Mom's gonna pay us money to go with Dad!"
See? Getting your kids to Church is easy as pie. You just have to pay them :P
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Welcome to Depressed LDS Woman (with a little Mirthful Monday thrown in)
Hey folks, guess what! There's another Depressed Mormon Mommy out there! And she blogs!
Go check out Depressed LDS Woman's blog. She's just getting started and has some good stuff. It makes us all stronger when we own our struggles and share them with others.
And for some more fun, here's a relatively recent article on Mormon women and depression. Well, really, in an oddly disjointed way, it's about Mormon men and depression--which makes it extra fun reading :) And the pic to go with the article is classic:
Tell me, is she depressed or playing hide and seek? Maybe she's washing her face? Or hiding from the mess on the kitchen floor after dinner like I do? Depression is just so hard to figure out!
Have a Mirthful Monday!
Go check out Depressed LDS Woman's blog. She's just getting started and has some good stuff. It makes us all stronger when we own our struggles and share them with others.
And for some more fun, here's a relatively recent article on Mormon women and depression. Well, really, in an oddly disjointed way, it's about Mormon men and depression--which makes it extra fun reading :) And the pic to go with the article is classic:
Tell me, is she depressed or playing hide and seek? Maybe she's washing her face? Or hiding from the mess on the kitchen floor after dinner like I do? Depression is just so hard to figure out!
Have a Mirthful Monday!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Cupcakes Can Kill You!
Well, not exactly. . . but that happens to be the title of a two post series I did with singer/songwriter/kazoo master, Mr. Tim over at A Motley Vision.
He's a fascinating guy with a lot to say about music, Mormonism, and art in general. If you're interested, here are the links:
Cupcakes Can Kill You (part one)
Cupcakes Can Kill You (part two)
And, just for laughs, here's his take on Justin Beiber:
He's a fascinating guy with a lot to say about music, Mormonism, and art in general. If you're interested, here are the links:
Cupcakes Can Kill You (part one)
Cupcakes Can Kill You (part two)
And, just for laughs, here's his take on Justin Beiber:
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Book Review: Hold on the Light Will Come
Hi friends!
One quick note: I updated my goodreads widget so check it out to see what I've been reading!
Now to business.
I recently read Michael McLean's book, Hold On, the Light Will Come, and I have to say that I was a little disappointed. I suppose it was because I had my hopes all up and that rarely leads to a good reading experience. You'd think I'd know better by now.
McLean and I go way back. Fifteen years in fact. I remember getting a tape of his for Christmas when I was eleven (I think it was the only tape I ever owned; I got cd's after that) and my dad was in the bishopric of a student ward. I was doing community theater by that point and was gone a lot. Anyway, I came home from play practice one Monday night to a house full of college students and my parents nowhere in sight. I mean, the place was packed. It was a Family Home Evening group and since we lived in Utah there were probably forty giddy co-eds kicking it in our house. They were in the kitchen, the living room, the backyard, everywhere. So I did what any tweenaged girl would do. I panicked. I locked myself in my bedroom (which I was sharing with my older sister) and turned on the tunes. Michael McLean's "You're Not Alone" came pouring out of the speakers on my little boombox and soothed me. I rewound it and listened to it over and over until my sister finally came in and asked me what the heck I was doing and didn't I want refreshments?
As an older teen I liked listening to his music and I would sometimes put lines up on my wall (I wallpapered my room in quotations from music, poetry, and books), but even then I knew they didn't make whole lot of sense. Emotionally they were satisfying but artistically they left something to be desired. (His song about anger, "If it's not love, simply let it go", is a perfect is example. Since when is anger like an innocent, injured bird? Only if that bird is an angry goose and you're the last picnicker and you're all out of bread crumbs.) Nevertheless, I still looked forward to our family's annual attendance of The Forgotten Carols concert at USU and even the cheesy hand holding and singing at the end.
I eventually got too sophisticated for Michael McLean and forgot him completely until my sister mentioned the fact that he was depressed. She said she'd read about it in one of his books and she liked what he had said. My heart thrilled a little. What? Another depressed Mormon? One who's open about? One who used his art to help fix it? Maybe, just maybe, Michael McLean had a few more thoughts worth hearing. So I read the book.
Here's what he said about depression:
And that was it. The rest of the book is just as cheesy and campy as his music. At first I took it personally that he glossed over all the struggles and I wondered if Deseret Book had pressured him keep the depression talk to a minimum. And maybe they did. Maybe I should just be happy that he owned up the fact that he's depressed and on antidepressants. Besides Marie Osmond, who also sings campy music (coincidentally? hmm. . .), McLean is one of the few Mormons who owns up to mood disorder struggles and needing help.
But I wanted more. I still want to know if he has suicidal thoughts or violent visions. Has he ever been so depressed he couldn't feel the Spirit? How does his wife live with it? How has it affected his children? How could he hear the music through the crazy? Really, I wanted to know if he was like me and if had any survival tips. This book didn't answer any of those questions.
It's funny to me, though, that I can't let Michael McLean go. I still have his autograph tucked away in one of my journals somewhere. Seriously. I actually waited in line at a book store so that he could sign a bright green sticky note for me.(My only thought at the time: "Man! He's old!") A lot of the time, when I'm really frustrated and overwhelmed random lyrics will come to me. "Which part is mine? And, God, which part is yours? Could you tell me one more time? I'm never quite sure?" is like a muzak-ghost some days. Or even, "like an awkward dancer on a crowded floor, I'll learn to dance once more, someday." And, of course, "You're not alone." My brain still pulls that out as a reminder sometimes.
Despite my general frustration with his music, there is one song of his that I have always loved. "Gentle" really meant a lot to me as a high schooler and I still think it has some merit. Here's my favorite part (for all the lyrics click here):
Life can hard, but we need not be
so hard on ourselves, if we will see…
Like the shepherd leads his flock with gentle commands.
With his gentle voice that only hearts understand.
One thing we can know for certain, He has borne the awful burdens
So we can be gentle with ourselves.
Still gets me. Every time. I guess I shouldn't write him off after all.
One quick note: I updated my goodreads widget so check it out to see what I've been reading!
Now to business.
I recently read Michael McLean's book, Hold On, the Light Will Come, and I have to say that I was a little disappointed. I suppose it was because I had my hopes all up and that rarely leads to a good reading experience. You'd think I'd know better by now.
McLean and I go way back. Fifteen years in fact. I remember getting a tape of his for Christmas when I was eleven (I think it was the only tape I ever owned; I got cd's after that) and my dad was in the bishopric of a student ward. I was doing community theater by that point and was gone a lot. Anyway, I came home from play practice one Monday night to a house full of college students and my parents nowhere in sight. I mean, the place was packed. It was a Family Home Evening group and since we lived in Utah there were probably forty giddy co-eds kicking it in our house. They were in the kitchen, the living room, the backyard, everywhere. So I did what any tweenaged girl would do. I panicked. I locked myself in my bedroom (which I was sharing with my older sister) and turned on the tunes. Michael McLean's "You're Not Alone" came pouring out of the speakers on my little boombox and soothed me. I rewound it and listened to it over and over until my sister finally came in and asked me what the heck I was doing and didn't I want refreshments?
As an older teen I liked listening to his music and I would sometimes put lines up on my wall (I wallpapered my room in quotations from music, poetry, and books), but even then I knew they didn't make whole lot of sense. Emotionally they were satisfying but artistically they left something to be desired. (His song about anger, "If it's not love, simply let it go", is a perfect is example. Since when is anger like an innocent, injured bird? Only if that bird is an angry goose and you're the last picnicker and you're all out of bread crumbs.) Nevertheless, I still looked forward to our family's annual attendance of The Forgotten Carols concert at USU and even the cheesy hand holding and singing at the end.
I eventually got too sophisticated for Michael McLean and forgot him completely until my sister mentioned the fact that he was depressed. She said she'd read about it in one of his books and she liked what he had said. My heart thrilled a little. What? Another depressed Mormon? One who's open about? One who used his art to help fix it? Maybe, just maybe, Michael McLean had a few more thoughts worth hearing. So I read the book.
Here's what he said about depression:
I know life's hard and things are tough . . . I know how dark it can feel . . . why do you think I'm waiting in line for antidepressants? But when i hear a story in a song, and someone overcomes something, or finds a way to hold on or learns how to let go or discovers something that alters the way they view their life, I want to celebrate it[. . .]I want to know that somewhere inside of me I'm capable of feeling hope" (p. 3).
And that was it. The rest of the book is just as cheesy and campy as his music. At first I took it personally that he glossed over all the struggles and I wondered if Deseret Book had pressured him keep the depression talk to a minimum. And maybe they did. Maybe I should just be happy that he owned up the fact that he's depressed and on antidepressants. Besides Marie Osmond, who also sings campy music (coincidentally? hmm. . .), McLean is one of the few Mormons who owns up to mood disorder struggles and needing help.
But I wanted more. I still want to know if he has suicidal thoughts or violent visions. Has he ever been so depressed he couldn't feel the Spirit? How does his wife live with it? How has it affected his children? How could he hear the music through the crazy? Really, I wanted to know if he was like me and if had any survival tips. This book didn't answer any of those questions.
It's funny to me, though, that I can't let Michael McLean go. I still have his autograph tucked away in one of my journals somewhere. Seriously. I actually waited in line at a book store so that he could sign a bright green sticky note for me.(My only thought at the time: "Man! He's old!") A lot of the time, when I'm really frustrated and overwhelmed random lyrics will come to me. "Which part is mine? And, God, which part is yours? Could you tell me one more time? I'm never quite sure?" is like a muzak-ghost some days. Or even, "like an awkward dancer on a crowded floor, I'll learn to dance once more, someday." And, of course, "You're not alone." My brain still pulls that out as a reminder sometimes.
Despite my general frustration with his music, there is one song of his that I have always loved. "Gentle" really meant a lot to me as a high schooler and I still think it has some merit. Here's my favorite part (for all the lyrics click here):
Life can hard, but we need not be
so hard on ourselves, if we will see…
Like the shepherd leads his flock with gentle commands.
With his gentle voice that only hearts understand.
One thing we can know for certain, He has borne the awful burdens
So we can be gentle with ourselves.
Still gets me. Every time. I guess I shouldn't write him off after all.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Support Where You Need it the Most! (part three): Men vs. Women
Remember when I put up that really weird-o picture of a bra made out of veggies? Well, I'm sparing you another one but, for this week's But Not Unhappy Science Friday, I do want to return to the idea of support.
I originally planned for this to be a two part series (you can read part one here and part two here), but Breakdown's comment really got my attention. He said:
Now, there are a lot of unknowns here. To be honest, I don't know any specifics about Breakdown's life (but I love his comments! Thanks dude!). But as I pondered his statements I began to wonder if his experience encapsulates one of the many stereotypical differences between men and women. After all common wisdom holds that women are "wired" for community building. In psycho-speak this is sometimes referred to as a "self in relation" (as opposed to an autonomous self, which is stereotypically more masculine). My experience, in many cases, tends to back this assumption up. Women like to talk. A lot. Men, for whatever social/biological/possibly screwed up reason, don't talk as much. Well, maybe they talk but they don't seem to emote as much. Men are wired for competition and conquering, not hugging. Right?
So now that I've laid out the stereotype, how true is all this? Cue the science. Check out this study: Gender, culture, and social support: a male-female, Israeli Jewish-Arab comparison. After all, what can we learn from the Israeli Jewish-Arab conflict if not insights into social support systems? (Actually, because of their physical proximity yet independent cultures, the Israeli Arabs and Jews present an ideal population for this kind of research. Surprise!)
The study was actually a phone survey in which participants were asked to rate their likelihood of asking for help in different difficult scenarios (such as depressive episode, job loss, or financial hardship). The study looked at culture and gender and compared their findings with evolutionary, social, and psychological theories about the role of gender and culture in developing a support system.
Okay, now that we got the science out of the way, what does it all mean to us? It means exactly what we already knew: culture and gender do define who we ask for help and how we build our support systems.
The study said, "Culture influences people's perception of appropriate behavior and thus how and when they seek, obtain, and enact supportive behavior, and studies show that social support is constructed within a specific cultural context . . .Indeed, gender roles promulgated by culture were found to influence how men and women seek, obtain, and enact supportive behavior in stressful situations".
Israeli Arabs ended up fitting a more masculine profile ("A masculine culture is characterized by such masculine stereotypes as assertiveness and competitiveness, whereas feminine cultures are characterized by feminine stereotypes such as warmth and collaboration") and as such tended to ask no one for help. The study conjectured that this was because Arab cultures believed that their lives were dictated by outside forces (like God and/or fate) and that problems should be handled within families first in order to avoid embarrassment. The study also pointed out that because of the patriarchal nature of the Israeli Arab culture men were less likely to have an emotional support system.
This really struck me because the Israeli Arab view seemed remarkably similar to the way I have heard people describe men in the LDS culture. We do believe that our lives are determined by God--although for us God is not the same as fate. We always have a choice as to how we will react; God will never take away our agency. Also, we believe problems should be handled in families first. When a person needs financial help they are to look to their family first, not the Church, right? Those two ideas can isolate us. I don't think they have to (I think it's the first lesson of bishop-ing: tell them to call a therapist!), but they can.
I also wonder how the idea or priesthood leadership and of a man being the steward of the family makes men feel like they have to be invincible. I remember what an epiphany it was when a lit. theory professor pointed out that chauvinistic patriarchal societies are as limiting for men as they are for women. After all, in a typical (not LDS) patriarchy men aren't allowed to be weak. They must always dominate. That has to get tiring.
Of course, our LDS concept of male leadership is not chauvinistic or traditionally patriarchal (at least not in the way feminists use the term). Men are not supposed to be Peter Priesthood Ken dolls. They are sojourners on this earth like the rest of us and entitled to failures and the resulting relationship with Christ just like all of us chicks.
I don't know. I've gotta ask the men, how have these issues played out for you. Have you struggled with the worldly definition of what it means to be a strong man and what the Church's definition of a strong man is (i.e. you SHOULD ask for help!)? Is it different because you are a man? I hope all my male readers will respond because I really do want an answer :)
I originally planned for this to be a two part series (you can read part one here and part two here), but Breakdown's comment really got my attention. He said:
I have no problem asking for help. My problem is often that I can't get anyone to help me when I need it. Home teachers, friends, family. For the most part I usually find myself fighting my own battles. I do all I can to help anyone that asks but when I need it it usually seems like I have to pull teeth. Now, it's not all the time. I have had some good people help me from time to time, just there are those times when I really need it and nobody is there to help. It's a bit discouraging.
Now, there are a lot of unknowns here. To be honest, I don't know any specifics about Breakdown's life (but I love his comments! Thanks dude!). But as I pondered his statements I began to wonder if his experience encapsulates one of the many stereotypical differences between men and women. After all common wisdom holds that women are "wired" for community building. In psycho-speak this is sometimes referred to as a "self in relation" (as opposed to an autonomous self, which is stereotypically more masculine). My experience, in many cases, tends to back this assumption up. Women like to talk. A lot. Men, for whatever social/biological/possibly screwed up reason, don't talk as much. Well, maybe they talk but they don't seem to emote as much. Men are wired for competition and conquering, not hugging. Right?
So now that I've laid out the stereotype, how true is all this? Cue the science. Check out this study: Gender, culture, and social support: a male-female, Israeli Jewish-Arab comparison. After all, what can we learn from the Israeli Jewish-Arab conflict if not insights into social support systems? (Actually, because of their physical proximity yet independent cultures, the Israeli Arabs and Jews present an ideal population for this kind of research. Surprise!)
The study was actually a phone survey in which participants were asked to rate their likelihood of asking for help in different difficult scenarios (such as depressive episode, job loss, or financial hardship). The study looked at culture and gender and compared their findings with evolutionary, social, and psychological theories about the role of gender and culture in developing a support system.
Okay, now that we got the science out of the way, what does it all mean to us? It means exactly what we already knew: culture and gender do define who we ask for help and how we build our support systems.
The study said, "Culture influences people's perception of appropriate behavior and thus how and when they seek, obtain, and enact supportive behavior, and studies show that social support is constructed within a specific cultural context . . .Indeed, gender roles promulgated by culture were found to influence how men and women seek, obtain, and enact supportive behavior in stressful situations".
Israeli Arabs ended up fitting a more masculine profile ("A masculine culture is characterized by such masculine stereotypes as assertiveness and competitiveness, whereas feminine cultures are characterized by feminine stereotypes such as warmth and collaboration") and as such tended to ask no one for help. The study conjectured that this was because Arab cultures believed that their lives were dictated by outside forces (like God and/or fate) and that problems should be handled within families first in order to avoid embarrassment. The study also pointed out that because of the patriarchal nature of the Israeli Arab culture men were less likely to have an emotional support system.
This really struck me because the Israeli Arab view seemed remarkably similar to the way I have heard people describe men in the LDS culture. We do believe that our lives are determined by God--although for us God is not the same as fate. We always have a choice as to how we will react; God will never take away our agency. Also, we believe problems should be handled in families first. When a person needs financial help they are to look to their family first, not the Church, right? Those two ideas can isolate us. I don't think they have to (I think it's the first lesson of bishop-ing: tell them to call a therapist!), but they can.
I also wonder how the idea or priesthood leadership and of a man being the steward of the family makes men feel like they have to be invincible. I remember what an epiphany it was when a lit. theory professor pointed out that chauvinistic patriarchal societies are as limiting for men as they are for women. After all, in a typical (not LDS) patriarchy men aren't allowed to be weak. They must always dominate. That has to get tiring.
Of course, our LDS concept of male leadership is not chauvinistic or traditionally patriarchal (at least not in the way feminists use the term). Men are not supposed to be Peter Priesthood Ken dolls. They are sojourners on this earth like the rest of us and entitled to failures and the resulting relationship with Christ just like all of us chicks.
I don't know. I've gotta ask the men, how have these issues played out for you. Have you struggled with the worldly definition of what it means to be a strong man and what the Church's definition of a strong man is (i.e. you SHOULD ask for help!)? Is it different because you are a man? I hope all my male readers will respond because I really do want an answer :)
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Book Review: Room for Two by Abel Koegh
I usually end up posting my in depth reviews on my other blogs: A Motley Vision and LDS Readers, but my reaction to this book was too personal (and therefore unprofessional?) for AMV and too conflicted for LDS Readers (they have a policy of not saying anything negative--which makes it difficult to review stuff. . .) so I'm posting this here.
Anyway, the book was a memoir, Room for Two by Abel Keogh. It literally starts with a bang--that of gun that Keogh's pregnant wife's has aimed at her own head. He runs to the bedroom of their apartment and holds Krista while she bleeds to death. You see Krista was born to two people who met in a mental hospital--her father was manic depressive and her mother was schizophrenic--and was given a genetic legacy of mental illness which manifested itself as severe depression. Keogh sits numbly through the police investigation and then struggles through the nine days of his little baby girl's life. Because Krista killed herself the baby had to be delivered nearly four months early after being deprived of oxygen for an extended period of time. It is a sad, sad, complicated story.
But that only occupies the first fifty pages--less than a quarter of the book. The other one hundred and sixty-six pages chronicle Keogh's search for a new wife and drives home the point that a person can get over these things. You can love again. You can be happy again. You can move on.
I should probably stop at this point in the review and say this: I respect Keogh's experience and his right to move on. I am glad for him and his current wife and children. I'm sure he has helped a number of people through his openness and honesty about the pain he suffered as a widower. I applaud his courage to tell a story a lot of people in LDS culture wouldn't. I am glad he is happy.
But. . .
As a depressed LDS woman, I'm a little hurt. As a woman who struggled with perinatal depression three times and with PPD three times and is now fighting run-of-the-mill depression every day, I feel a little betrayed--not by his remarriage or his eagerness to move on, but by the fact that he abridged his wife's incredibly complicated and IMPORTANT story into fifty pages and managed to spend one hundred and sixty-six on what it was like to hold hands for the first time again. I mean, love IS magical, but depression is a transforming experience too. If his book is a true reflection of his experience, he didn't seem to spend more than few days wondering what his wife must have been suffering. And, what is perhaps the worst part to me, he didn't seem to even try. It was as if he thought that since he wasn't mentally ill there was no way to comprehend the strangeness of her experience so he closed himself off completely from any type of sympathy for her. He missed her after she was dead, but, from the way the book reads, he seems to have misunderstood her while she was alive. And that makes me sad.
Granted, I might have taken Keogh's book a little too personally and my reading may not be an accurate reflection of his experience; he might be horrified to find that I feel this way. But I wish that he had chosen to spend a little more time in the rush and tumble of the storm cloud and a little less on the silver lining.
It also angered me that this book perpetuates a lot of stereotypes about depression:
*His wife had been on Prozac for a long time previous to her pregnancy and chose to go off it because of the baby. Now, he may or may not know this, but SOME antidepressants are safe to take during pregnancy and most OBs and psychiatrists agree that if the mother's health--mental or physical--is at risk. I wish he had taken the time to correct this misconception while he had an audience.
*As luck would have Keogh's second wife also has depression--although obviously not as severe as his first wife's. She herself says she's never been suicidal. When his soon-to-be second wife tells him this he praises her for not taking medicine and handling it through excessive running (I say excessive because she ran at least three marathons in a single year, one of which was run on a broken femur). He says, "Her [solution] intrigued me. Maybe it was because I had spent so much time with Krista's family, where prescriptions were preached as the cure-all for every ailment; this was the first time I'd heard someone say they'd rather not be on anti-depressants [sic] . . . Some people would say there's nothing you can do about the way you feel. Take a pill and enjoy the ride." His soon-to-be second wife replies, "I'm not saying the medication isn't helpful. I just think people have more control over the way they behave and act than they think" (165-166). Now there are a lot of things that bother me about this conversation but the glaring misconception is that medicine is an exclusive option, an all-or-nothing deal, a zero-sum game. I've blogged about the stereotypes surrounding antidepressants before and I've blogged about the wonders of CBT and therapy too, and I hope that people are beginning to understand that antidepressants and therapy (and exercise) work best in combination! It's not an either/or scenario. Taking medicine is not a cop-out. What it is, is a responsible choice. Oh, and it doesn't take away your agency. If anything it restores it after illness has taken it away.
*Another problem in the book's treatment of depression was its complete silence on the fact that depression has spiritual ramifications. The above conversation illustrates this and the implication--and all too Mormon idea--that we are better off doing things ourselves and not asking for help. This is echoed by the author's insistence that he doesn't need to see a therapist and that others around him aren't "progressing" as much as he is because their grief lingers longer than his. The way he present himself in the memoir, he comes off as proud that he was the one who actually suffered the most and needed the least help. This idea of needing to do things alone and for ourselves is not only untrue, it is absurd. Yes we have our agency and we are accountable for our actions, but the point of this life is to learn to partner with Christ. There is no way to yoke ourselves with Him without asking for help--both temporally and spiritually. The idea that we need to pull ourselves up by our spiritual/emotional boot straps keeps too many depressed people from seeking the help they need and from building the support structure they cannot live without.
I could probably go on but it would cease to be helpful. There's just one more thing that I feel like I need to mention: depression is a deadly illness. For all the pain Keogh's first wife's death caused, he only barely links her death with her depression. If the memoir is an accurate depiction of his mind's workings it takes him months to realize/accept that Krista was not in her right mind when it happened--that she could not have done something different. So I'll say it again: depression IS a deadly illness. It needs to be taken seriously.
Anyway, I'm not trying to slander Keogh or disrespect his experiences. They are his and I'm grateful to him for being willing to start a scary conversation. I just disagree with the way the story was framed. Like I said before: I would have appreciated a little more time of the storm cloud and a little less on the silver lining. It might not only have been more interesting, but have done a lot more good.
P.S. It is interesting to me that Keogh blogged through much of the aftermath of his wife's suicide and almost none of it is included in his book. The blog posts are raw and, a few of them, powerful and interesting. It seems natural to me that, as a writer, you would want to use some of what you had already written about the experience. After looking at his blog his memoir feels sanitized.
Anyway, the book was a memoir, Room for Two by Abel Keogh. It literally starts with a bang--that of gun that Keogh's pregnant wife's has aimed at her own head. He runs to the bedroom of their apartment and holds Krista while she bleeds to death. You see Krista was born to two people who met in a mental hospital--her father was manic depressive and her mother was schizophrenic--and was given a genetic legacy of mental illness which manifested itself as severe depression. Keogh sits numbly through the police investigation and then struggles through the nine days of his little baby girl's life. Because Krista killed herself the baby had to be delivered nearly four months early after being deprived of oxygen for an extended period of time. It is a sad, sad, complicated story.
But that only occupies the first fifty pages--less than a quarter of the book. The other one hundred and sixty-six pages chronicle Keogh's search for a new wife and drives home the point that a person can get over these things. You can love again. You can be happy again. You can move on.
I should probably stop at this point in the review and say this: I respect Keogh's experience and his right to move on. I am glad for him and his current wife and children. I'm sure he has helped a number of people through his openness and honesty about the pain he suffered as a widower. I applaud his courage to tell a story a lot of people in LDS culture wouldn't. I am glad he is happy.
But. . .
As a depressed LDS woman, I'm a little hurt. As a woman who struggled with perinatal depression three times and with PPD three times and is now fighting run-of-the-mill depression every day, I feel a little betrayed--not by his remarriage or his eagerness to move on, but by the fact that he abridged his wife's incredibly complicated and IMPORTANT story into fifty pages and managed to spend one hundred and sixty-six on what it was like to hold hands for the first time again. I mean, love IS magical, but depression is a transforming experience too. If his book is a true reflection of his experience, he didn't seem to spend more than few days wondering what his wife must have been suffering. And, what is perhaps the worst part to me, he didn't seem to even try. It was as if he thought that since he wasn't mentally ill there was no way to comprehend the strangeness of her experience so he closed himself off completely from any type of sympathy for her. He missed her after she was dead, but, from the way the book reads, he seems to have misunderstood her while she was alive. And that makes me sad.
Granted, I might have taken Keogh's book a little too personally and my reading may not be an accurate reflection of his experience; he might be horrified to find that I feel this way. But I wish that he had chosen to spend a little more time in the rush and tumble of the storm cloud and a little less on the silver lining.
It also angered me that this book perpetuates a lot of stereotypes about depression:
*His wife had been on Prozac for a long time previous to her pregnancy and chose to go off it because of the baby. Now, he may or may not know this, but SOME antidepressants are safe to take during pregnancy and most OBs and psychiatrists agree that if the mother's health--mental or physical--is at risk. I wish he had taken the time to correct this misconception while he had an audience.
*As luck would have Keogh's second wife also has depression--although obviously not as severe as his first wife's. She herself says she's never been suicidal. When his soon-to-be second wife tells him this he praises her for not taking medicine and handling it through excessive running (I say excessive because she ran at least three marathons in a single year, one of which was run on a broken femur). He says, "Her [solution] intrigued me. Maybe it was because I had spent so much time with Krista's family, where prescriptions were preached as the cure-all for every ailment; this was the first time I'd heard someone say they'd rather not be on anti-depressants [sic] . . . Some people would say there's nothing you can do about the way you feel. Take a pill and enjoy the ride." His soon-to-be second wife replies, "I'm not saying the medication isn't helpful. I just think people have more control over the way they behave and act than they think" (165-166). Now there are a lot of things that bother me about this conversation but the glaring misconception is that medicine is an exclusive option, an all-or-nothing deal, a zero-sum game. I've blogged about the stereotypes surrounding antidepressants before and I've blogged about the wonders of CBT and therapy too, and I hope that people are beginning to understand that antidepressants and therapy (and exercise) work best in combination! It's not an either/or scenario. Taking medicine is not a cop-out. What it is, is a responsible choice. Oh, and it doesn't take away your agency. If anything it restores it after illness has taken it away.
*Another problem in the book's treatment of depression was its complete silence on the fact that depression has spiritual ramifications. The above conversation illustrates this and the implication--and all too Mormon idea--that we are better off doing things ourselves and not asking for help. This is echoed by the author's insistence that he doesn't need to see a therapist and that others around him aren't "progressing" as much as he is because their grief lingers longer than his. The way he present himself in the memoir, he comes off as proud that he was the one who actually suffered the most and needed the least help. This idea of needing to do things alone and for ourselves is not only untrue, it is absurd. Yes we have our agency and we are accountable for our actions, but the point of this life is to learn to partner with Christ. There is no way to yoke ourselves with Him without asking for help--both temporally and spiritually. The idea that we need to pull ourselves up by our spiritual/emotional boot straps keeps too many depressed people from seeking the help they need and from building the support structure they cannot live without.
I could probably go on but it would cease to be helpful. There's just one more thing that I feel like I need to mention: depression is a deadly illness. For all the pain Keogh's first wife's death caused, he only barely links her death with her depression. If the memoir is an accurate depiction of his mind's workings it takes him months to realize/accept that Krista was not in her right mind when it happened--that she could not have done something different. So I'll say it again: depression IS a deadly illness. It needs to be taken seriously.
Anyway, I'm not trying to slander Keogh or disrespect his experiences. They are his and I'm grateful to him for being willing to start a scary conversation. I just disagree with the way the story was framed. Like I said before: I would have appreciated a little more time of the storm cloud and a little less on the silver lining. It might not only have been more interesting, but have done a lot more good.
P.S. It is interesting to me that Keogh blogged through much of the aftermath of his wife's suicide and almost none of it is included in his book. The blog posts are raw and, a few of them, powerful and interesting. It seems natural to me that, as a writer, you would want to use some of what you had already written about the experience. After looking at his blog his memoir feels sanitized.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Since We're on a Roll with the Daddies . . .
I thought I'd mention this:
I came across this blurb from the BBC, Antidepressants "may harm sperm", and I couldn't resist commenting. One because it is informative (sort of) and two, well, I don't know, it was just too interesting to pass up! (I trust that we're all grown up enough to use the word "sperm" without giggling . . . well, that's all right. If you laugh no one will know. You can pretend you were mature about this in the comments.)
Basically the article talks about a study that found that men who were on antidepressants had a higher rate of defective sperm. The sperm in question weren't lower in quantity, just quality. That is, men who take antidepressants have a higher percentage of sperm with damaged DNA.
Now, reel in your disaster-scenario-seeking brains (my brain isn't the only one that does that, right?), because that actually means very little. The study was so small that it in no way supports conclusions like "men who take antidepressants have lower fertility" or even "ALL men who take antidepressants have harmed sperm". I repeat: those conclusions cannot be drawn!
Here are few facts worth keeping in mind:
*The study only looked at Paxil and other antidepressants in that family. It didn't look at any other type of mood disorder meds.
*The study didn't examine if the damaged sperm actually had an effect on fertility.
*The study didn't look if the effects were reversed when the medication was stopped.
So what to take away from all this? I think the one thing this new information points to is that antidepressants do a lot of things scientists and doctors don't understand. We need more research behind the meds and more research into treatments for mood disorders and into mood disorders themselves.
Also, keep in mind that past studies have shown that people with high stress levels (like depressed people) do have lowered fertility rates. If you are worried about fertility talk to your doctor (obviously!), but an antidepressant probably isn't a big factor.
Other things to remember: When it comes to serious illnesses like depression, OCD, anxiety, or any mix thereof, it is probably safer to side with taking the medicine if you need it. Since the Surgeon General required the "black box" warning to be put on antidepressants prescribed to teens, teen prescriptions rates have gone down and teen suicide rates have gone up. Nobody wants a crazy dad. Or a dead dad. And that's just the facts.
I came across this blurb from the BBC, Antidepressants "may harm sperm", and I couldn't resist commenting. One because it is informative (sort of) and two, well, I don't know, it was just too interesting to pass up! (I trust that we're all grown up enough to use the word "sperm" without giggling . . . well, that's all right. If you laugh no one will know. You can pretend you were mature about this in the comments.)
Basically the article talks about a study that found that men who were on antidepressants had a higher rate of defective sperm. The sperm in question weren't lower in quantity, just quality. That is, men who take antidepressants have a higher percentage of sperm with damaged DNA.
Now, reel in your disaster-scenario-seeking brains (my brain isn't the only one that does that, right?), because that actually means very little. The study was so small that it in no way supports conclusions like "men who take antidepressants have lower fertility" or even "ALL men who take antidepressants have harmed sperm". I repeat: those conclusions cannot be drawn!
Here are few facts worth keeping in mind:
*The study only looked at Paxil and other antidepressants in that family. It didn't look at any other type of mood disorder meds.
*The study didn't examine if the damaged sperm actually had an effect on fertility.
*The study didn't look if the effects were reversed when the medication was stopped.
So what to take away from all this? I think the one thing this new information points to is that antidepressants do a lot of things scientists and doctors don't understand. We need more research behind the meds and more research into treatments for mood disorders and into mood disorders themselves.
Also, keep in mind that past studies have shown that people with high stress levels (like depressed people) do have lowered fertility rates. If you are worried about fertility talk to your doctor (obviously!), but an antidepressant probably isn't a big factor.
Other things to remember: When it comes to serious illnesses like depression, OCD, anxiety, or any mix thereof, it is probably safer to side with taking the medicine if you need it. Since the Surgeon General required the "black box" warning to be put on antidepressants prescribed to teens, teen prescriptions rates have gone down and teen suicide rates have gone up. Nobody wants a crazy dad. Or a dead dad. And that's just the facts.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Dads feel it too!
I got home tonight from a temple recommend interview and pulled out my brand new U.S. News and World Report. As I flipped through the headlines I came across one that said, Postpartum Depression Strikes New Dads as Well as Moms.
Well, color me surprised!
Here's the lowdown: About 14% of new moms suffer from postpartum depression. Symptoms include, but are not limited to,(doesn't that make me sound professional!) sadness, irritability, changes in weight or sleep patterns and an inability to bond with child. Postpartum depression in women has far reaching effects beyond just the mother's happiness (which is important in and of itself). Children of depressed mothers have more health problems and learning problems, and are at a greater risk for developing a mood disorder.
This is what we knew before, what is new is how men fit the profile: Approximately 10% of new fathers will suffer from PPD (well, not exactly PPD because they weren't pregnant but depression that occurs as a result of a new baby). Their symptoms are almost identical to women except that the increased sadness and irritability lead to destructive behaviors--like drug abuse, reckless driving, and promiscuity--that depressed women don't usually engage in. Depression in fathers also effects children in major ways. Children of depressed fathers get read to less often and have slower language development. Also, the children are more likely to act out destructively.
The causes for men are not as easy to pin down as they are for women. With us chicks it's supposed to be the hormones, but with men it may be that the prospect of caring for a child puts them over the edge or they struggle with the changes in their marriage.
No matter what the cause, the good news is that PPD is highly treatable. As we all have accepted by now (you have, right?) a little therapy never hurt anyone--at least not in the long run :)
For more on this issue read here and be sure to check out this awesome website PostpartumMen.com.
What do you all think? I was dubious at first but the more I thought about it the more sense it made. Have you or anyone you know struggled with this?
Well, color me surprised!
Here's the lowdown: About 14% of new moms suffer from postpartum depression. Symptoms include, but are not limited to,(doesn't that make me sound professional!) sadness, irritability, changes in weight or sleep patterns and an inability to bond with child. Postpartum depression in women has far reaching effects beyond just the mother's happiness (which is important in and of itself). Children of depressed mothers have more health problems and learning problems, and are at a greater risk for developing a mood disorder.
This is what we knew before, what is new is how men fit the profile: Approximately 10% of new fathers will suffer from PPD (well, not exactly PPD because they weren't pregnant but depression that occurs as a result of a new baby). Their symptoms are almost identical to women except that the increased sadness and irritability lead to destructive behaviors--like drug abuse, reckless driving, and promiscuity--that depressed women don't usually engage in. Depression in fathers also effects children in major ways. Children of depressed fathers get read to less often and have slower language development. Also, the children are more likely to act out destructively.
The causes for men are not as easy to pin down as they are for women. With us chicks it's supposed to be the hormones, but with men it may be that the prospect of caring for a child puts them over the edge or they struggle with the changes in their marriage.
No matter what the cause, the good news is that PPD is highly treatable. As we all have accepted by now (you have, right?) a little therapy never hurt anyone--at least not in the long run :)
For more on this issue read here and be sure to check out this awesome website PostpartumMen.com.
What do you all think? I was dubious at first but the more I thought about it the more sense it made. Have you or anyone you know struggled with this?
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