Welcome to this safe space, where I write about my experiences with aphantasia, and mental illness.
Author: Liana
I am a semi-retired freelance writer. I recently discovered I have aphantasia (inability to visualize, aka mind-blindness). Despite my lifelong inability to visualize - or perhaps because of it - I have learned to adapt, bending my capabilities in imaginative ways to service my creativity. As a storyteller with aphantasia, I imagine our wondrous world through the lenses of perception, memory, and feeling, seeking to write passionate, sometimes humorous, tales full of possibilities.
When I was little, I used to cry at sirens. Ambulance, police, firetruck. It didn’t matter. And, I heard them a good thirty seconds before my mother did. There I’d be, playing sweetly with my toys while she hung laundry (back in the day when people actually hung laundry). Without warning, I would start screaming, terrified, tears streaming down my plumb, 3-year-old cheeks. The first couple of times I did this, I scared my Mom out of her wits (so she said). Then, while obviously startled by a bout of sudden wailing, Mom understood my fear and gently told me what’s what. That sirens were actually a good thing. They sat atop cars that sped through traffic, charting the fastest route possible to save someone who needed help. Each time, I’m sure I would nod in understanding, trusting her, loving her, hugging her, as the siren faded off into the distance.
Until the next time…
Still, from what I can remember, Mom never got upset with me. She always gently took me to the porch steps, pointed out to nowhere in particular – the expanse of our neighbourhood, I suppose – and explained.
I can’t say exactly when I grew out of this behaviour. My Mom couldn’t remember either. Only that I did eventually grow out of it. To this day though, when I hear a siren, not only am I reminded of the fine first responders who come to every rescue, but I am also reminded of my dear Mom – gone now, just over two years ago – of her patience and love; boundless and genuine. She is forever in my heart.
On June 27th 1956, my brother Michael died due to complications during childbirth.
On June 27th 1956, after 36 hours of hard labour and severe blood loss, my mother almost died too.
In fact, my mother was losing so much blood that it took more pints of blood than the hospital had on hand to keep her alive. After depleting the hospital’s supply, three health-care professionals in the operating room at the time stepped up and donated blood on the spot. Her own physician donated blood WHILE he worked to repair the extensive damage.
My mother survived as a direct result of those individuals who donate blood. Giving selflessly of themselves, they gave my Mother the gift of life!.
After recovering from the loss of her first-born son and her own near-death experience, my mother sought to repay the gift of life that had been bestowed upon her. She gave blood for 45 years, stopping finally when she turned 71, the maximum age for a donor. When we lived in Europe for two years in the early 70’s, she did what was to them, the unthinkable, and donated her blood without solicitation. By this, I mean, she donated without a specific need by a family member or friend, as was and is the custom in some parts of the world. She continued this pattern of walk-in generosity until finally, they opened a small clinic where others could follow her example. And so, she gave the gift of life to others.
Blood! We all have it to give but few of us actually do. Basic eligibility (in Canada) for donating blood is simple. You must be between the ages of 17 and 71, weigh at least 110 lbs and be in general good health. Only a small percentage of the healthy, adult population with basic eligibility go past intention to actually donate blood.
Why don’t more eligible people donate?
FEAR is the number one reason why people don’t donate blood. Fear of needles and/or fear of contracting some disease. Fear of needles is understandable and can be difficult to overcome. Fear of contracting a disease is simply a non-issue because Canadian Blood Services’ and America’s Blood Centers’ trained personnel use only new, sterile needles for each donation.
TIME is the second reason why people don’t donate. Did you know it only takes 1 hour to donate blood? The minimum interval between blood donations is 56 days. If you or a loved one needed blood, would fear or time constraints matter?
How many of you have a story similar to my mother’s or have heard of similar stories, where a friend or relative or a child on the news, received blood as part of a life-saving procedure in the hospital? Now… imagine that blood not being available! Imagine it running out!
My mother is alive today because she received a massive blood transfusion on June 27th 1956. Consequently, I was born and my children were born and some day their children will be born. What a beautiful cascade of life this is, made possible because generous people conquered their fear and overcame their time constraints to donate blood. Don’t wait until you need it, or your parent needs it, or your best friend, or your neighbour needs it.
Find a blood donor clinic in your area! Resolve today to GIVE THE GIFT OF LIFE!
Oh, the promise of a new year. It can be intoxicating. That thought of putting all the crap from the prior year behind you and beginning anew. You make resolutions, promises to self and those around you. You raise a fist in the air. “This is MY year!” “This year is going to be awesome!” “This year I’m going to be happy!”
By FrameAngel, courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net
All good. Definitely things to work towards. But for the depressed person, despite the daily wellness we wish and strive for, the daily wellness that others take for granted, we are at the mercy of our illness. To steal a quote from a movie, we are “at the whim of a madman!”
For some of us, our resolutions sound quite different. “This year, my depression won’t own me.” “This year, I’ll try to be happy… I really will try.” “This year, I’ll try not to hurt myself.”
I implore you to reach out for support. It can be as simple as following a depression support handle on Twitter to reading a depression blog online to joining a support group at your local church or community centre. If you haven’t already, seek medical advice and while lacking motivation is a key and often debilitating symptom of depression – be your own wellness advocate. If one doctor doesn’t work, find another. Insist on the appropriate referrals. Read up on your illness and take charge. Take it from someone who knows, someone who has been on the proverbial ledge deciding whether to die or live, depression can be managed. There is light in your seemingly pitch black tunnel.
Here are a few coping tips for managing your New Year’s expectations:
Do NOT make resolutions! Make small, daily goals that are realistic and attainable for you.
Understand that you are sick, not weak! Seek support. Be your own wellness advocate.
Laughter is cathartic! Watch funny movies, television and funny animal videos on YouTube.
Get some exercise (I am really bad at this one). Exercise is proven to help every kind of ailment.
Know yourself and your triggers. A depressive cycle may be avoided by steering clear of those situations that trigger them.
New Year’s eve can be especially difficult for a lot of people, especially those with depression. Reach out. You are not alone.
It’s been about 4 weeks now since the clocks were changed for daylight savings. It’s dark in the morning when I leave my house for work and it’s dark in the evening when I leave work to go home. For a person with depression, knowing that this is just the start of the dark months, is a truly daunting prospect.
I’ve lived a great many Canadian winters. Having just turned 50, I’m facing my 50th winter. As a person with chronic depression, I’ve also been diagnosed with SAD (seasonal affective disorder). It’s all part of the same chronic disorder, if you ask me. Chronic depression is merely heightened during the dark months. I’m also perimenopausal so I’m at an even greater risk of letting the darkness swallow me up. I must be cautious, and very aware of my symptoms. Depression symptoms can come on very quickly. I’ll be doing fine (well, “fine” for me) and then BAM, ignored symptoms will knock me off my feet.
It’s a short list. But so important. Especially that last one.
My husband laughed at me today because when I come downstairs in the morning, I open all the window blinds. He prefers to keep them shut. His reasoning – it’s so grey and ugly outside, why would I want to see that? My response? Simple. I need to see the daylight.
If there’s one claim to fame about the millennium it’s that it birthed “social media”. I’ve been on social media for years. As such, I’ve seen my share of hype. From playful viral pet videos on YouTube to bold-faced racist comments on Twitter. If it’s sensational enough, it will #trend.
The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge is the most recent beneficiary of the phenomena that is social media. I can’t even begin to guess how many videos have been made but I do know that, according to this online Time magazine article, the #ALSIceBucketChallenge has raised over $50 million! It raised over $10 million last Thursday (August 21st alone)!
I don’t know how this makes you feel, but it makes me feel a-MAZE-ing! It restores my faith in humanity. I am part of this incredible community of people, around the whole, entire WORLD, united in a single cause; to bring awareness and provide funds for ALS.
If you haven’t yet done the challenge, please consider doing so. And, if you’re in the need of a good chuckle, have a look at my challenge video. Oh… and don’t forget to donate!
I am recovering from depression. What I mean by this is that my chronic depression is well managed and provided I stay on my medication, I will remain in recovery.
Having had three major depressive episodes over the past thirteen year, I’m in a very unique position. I have lived through deep depression, gotten very close to committing suicide… and survived. In having survived, I feel blessed because I am now able to help a dear friend. She too suffers from depression.
This friend of mine is a “work” friend. Though we’ve known each other for over five years, likely suffering side-by-side in shameful silence, it wasn’t until about a year ago where I said the words out loud.
“I suffer from depression.”
It was part of my talk therapy, really. Talking about my depression. Which is hard enough with family and close friends but to admit to a work friend that you have depression can be daunting and scary and in some cases, career limiting.
But, as soon as I said it, I could see a calm, knowing look in her eyes. She has depression too. Finally, it was out there. Finally, we could talk about it.
The thing about being friends with people at work – you know when they’re off “sick” for a few days in a row. In my friend’s case, this has been a repeating pattern every few months or so – a pattern I know only too well having lived it myself. To her credit, my friend called me during the last absence and asked me for advice. She hadn’t done this before.
I openly shared my experiences with her and was happy to do so. It felt good to be able to help someone who is suffering as I have, though I wish the circumstances were different.
By hin255, courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net
I have, and likely always will have, chronic depression. It can be really tough, particularly in the long, cold months of winter. But I survive. Day after day, night after night, I survive. As the months and years of my life fly by, I survive. If every 1 depression survivor, reached out and helped another person suffering with depression… and then they helped someone… and then they helped someone… we could build a tremendous web of support and love.
By jesadaphorn, courtesy of freedigitialphotos.net
I’ve had trouble with my weight since puberty. So what else is new. I’m like a million other women with the same challenge. This year, I’ll be turning 50 and as part of this turning of the half-century event, I am also going through symptoms of menopause. Struggle as I have with my weight, I’ve always been all-over large. Gaining weight in the same places over the years as I yo-yo’d up and down on various diets and what-not. But now, I’m gaining weight in places I hadn’t before. Diet and exercise, other than helping to maintain general good health, has done zippo for the weight gain.
So, when I saw a tweet (can’t forget who promoted it and couldn’t find it afterwards) boasting a weight loss supplement endorsed and recommended by #DrOz, I thought, “Well, if Dr. Oz recommends it, it MUST work.”
Yes, I was duped.
The product I fell for (among others I have since learned about) is Garcinia Cambogia. I guess it was the mood I was in but I immediately clicked the link embedded in the tweet with the full (and clearly mindless) intention of purchasing the product. I realize my credibility with you, the reader, is in question here but please believe me when I tell you, I simply do NOT do this.
The website I was taken to had all the typical visual bells and whistles but also had Dr. Oz’s photo as well as his, and many other people’s testimonials. This was not just a miracle supplement, but it was also guaranteed to help you lose weight (10-30 lbs) within 30 days. I did do a bit of research on Cambogia on the internet; plant based diet supplement, fat blocker, ya da ya da – then decided, what the hell, right? Nothing else is working… and, Dr. Oz says….
After I made the purchase (from my smart phone), with promised delivery within 7 days, I received an email confirming my purchase. I waited until I got home to check the order from my laptop. When I clicked the embedded link to view my order – DUPE # 2!… my laptop’s anti-virus security software detected malware, warning me of it with a big red warning and several exclamation points.
Oh HELL no!
I replied to the email immediately to cancel my order. I tried phoning. I tried going to their website and clicking “chat”. NADA. The one saving grace was that my product, after 3 weeks, had not arrived. I called my credit card company and told them about my experience. They were able to trace the company/shipper to China! Needless to say, there was no mention of China on this seemingly American-based product website (even had the little American flag at the top-right of the screen). In any case, my credit card company immediately reversed the charge. I got my money back. *Whew*. Case closed.
About another 2 weeks later, I got another email from said company saying the product had shipped. I checked my credit card to ensure I hadn’t been charged again. All was clear. Sure enough, another 2 weeks later, I got a bottle of Garcinia Cambogia in the mail. I kept checking my credit card for charges. None made.
Well, I thought, I have the bottle, I might as well try it. I read the label and checked the ingredients and potency and all that. Seemed ok. I started taking 1 capsule per day… and awaited my miracle. In a part of my mind I still held some hope out for what Dr. Oz had claimed. (And in your mind you’re thinking, “Is this chick stupid, or what?” More like a bit desperate.)
Besides giving me incredible gas and loose stools, Garcinia Cambogia failed to do one damned thing that it claimed to do.
The intelligent, professional woman in me calmly states, “Not at all surprised.” The overweight, low-self-esteem woman in me simply shakes her head and says, “You brought this upon yourself, you idiot.”
Until this past week, I had no idea that Dr. Oz was under scrutiny at a U.S Senate hearing. In a way, while humbled by my own stupidity, I was happy to hear that I wasn’t alone in believing in Dr. Oz enough to purchase a product based solely on his emphatic endorsements. On the other hand, I’m angry as hell and delighted to see him squirm in front of the U.S. Senate.
I was duped by Dr. Oz. It was my own damned fault for being so naive, I know that. Still, where do I sign up for a class action suit against this guy?
I had my first anxiety attack when I was around ten years of age. I didn’t know that was it was at the time. I woke very early in the morning out of a dead sleep. It was summer, the sun was up but it was still only 5:30-ish in the morning. I wondered why I couldn’t fall back to sleep, since I had never had a problem with that before. My heart began to race and I became inexplicably… scared! I remember going upstairs, opening the front door and sitting on the front step where I proceeded to calm myself. I distinctly remember the warm, morning sun on my face… paired with utter confusion as to what had just happened to me.
By Stuart Miles, courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com
It wasn’t until years later and several hundred anxiety attacks later, that I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder.
I’m 49 years old and am happy to say that I haven’t had a full blown anxiety attack for about eight years.
But the truth is that, anxiety never forgets. It never really leaves you alone.
This week, I traveled to Malta (small island in the Mediterranean) to visit my sister who lives here. It takes anywhere from 13 to 18 hours to get from Ontario, Canada to Malta but I’ve made the trip a few times before. We lived in Malta when I was little (between the ages 6 and 9), went again in 2007, 2011 and in January 2014. My point, I suppose, is that I was used to the trip, the jet lag, the fatigue and the excitement. What I wasn’t prepared for was the anxiety attack I had a few hours after I arrived.
My anxiety attacks have presented themselves in several different forms throughout my life. More recently (8-ish years ago), my anxiety presented itself as a burning fire beginning deep inside me and traveling throughout my body to the very tips of my fingers and toes.
Standing in my sister’s guest bathroom, organizing my toiletries, I felt the familiar and most unwelcome fire in my core. My heart began to race, my breathing quickened. I knew exactly what was happening but couldn’t fathom why! I had to remind myself that anxiety never forgets. I had to dig deep to find some of the coping skills that I’d happily buried over the years that I’ve been anxiety attack free.
The attack passed within a few minutes, blessedly. But, since that first attack, I’ve had a few smaller attacks. It this the start of another phase of my anxiety? While I know it is related to brain chemistry (fight or flight chemicals), I still have to wonder, why?
Why, after all these years, did my brain chemistry misfire?
Who bloody well knows?
I’ve said it several times during this blog. Anxiety never forgets. Anxiety may sit dormant, as it did for me. But what is most important, what I learned about myself, is that the coping skills never go away. I remembered them. I recognized the anxiety as it was starting and was able to kick start my coping skills right away.
Positive self-talk; remember this is an illness. Brain chemistry can misfire at any time.
Stay calm; there is a thin line between anxiety and panic. Try to distract yourself.
I still have ten days on the island of Malta. I’ve had one major and two minor anxiety attacks. While I hope this isn’t the start of several anxiety-riddled years, I know that I can cope, no matter what.
Do the roles we play define who we are? Or is it who we are and our belief system that defines how we play our roles? In no particular order…
I am a good daughter who helps to look after her aging father whenever he needs it. Mom passed away in 2016.
I am still the annoying baby sister to my 3 siblings.
I am a loving wife of 40+ years to the same wonderful man.
I am a doting mother to 3 amazing children, all grown and out in the world.
I am a doting grandmother to 3 amazing grandchildren, and I help where I can.
I am a friend to a handful of amazingly devoted and supportive friends.
I have aphantasia which is the inability to visualize.
I am a mental health warrior having survived chronic depression, panic, anxiety, and excoriation disorders.
I retired from the corporate world in 2018 and now pursue a calmer existence.
I am a potter offering my creations at local markets and through commissions.
As for my writing, I have published a few short stories, several articles, a novel (out-of-print), a children’s picture book (not yet in print), and… I’m a blogger.
So, who am I??
I am a strong, independent woman who believes in respect, honesty, and common decency. I believe there is a hero in all of us. I believe in kindness and compassion and the freedom to be whoever you want to be. I believe in following your dreams, success, failure, falling, and getting back up again. I believe in living in the moment and loving for a lifetime. I marvel at the glorious diversities in life; ethnicity, food, families, religion, sexual orientation, music, hair colour, paint colour, cars, wine, shoes… and so on. The list is endless.
Does any of this really define who I am? You bet it does!
I am simply me… an ordinary woman living an ordinary life gifted with extraordinary blessings.
My name is Liana… and in this blog, which I named Cascading Insights, I share my reflections and insights about aspects of my life.
Cascading Insights 