This week the internet was down throughout the whole building and what first seemed like a pain turned out to be quite pleasant. Usually we get heaps of e-mails every day; a fair number of them are accompanied by those red exclamation marks indicating urgency. Almost all seem to require answers of some sort. So I spend part of my day chained to a computer trying to respond somewhat sensibly to this deluge. This week I was amazed at how much time was freed up by not having access. I got caught up on stuff that I’ve been wanting to get done and, best of all, I got to spend more time with our members. Being available for real live humans for face- to- face interaction has been wonderful and reminds me why I do this job in the first place. I know people missed their e-mailing, chatting and games but I found it a nice people break and we all got to chat with each other instead.

The secret is to remember how nice it all was when the internet comes back on line and a weeks worth of e-mails flood across my screen.

p.s. Happy Birthday, Werner!

It's finally Friday of Mental Health Awareness Week. When you work in mental health it becomes "Awareness of Trying Not To Lose Your Mental Health" Week as you run around working event after event.
The WRAP Conference was fabulous! Stephen Pocklington did such a warm and charismatic job using his story to illustrate the key concepts of WRAP. For those of us there from the morning to the end of the evening session it was a loooong day. Longer for Stephen who had to drive to Pembroke that night and do the whole thing again the next day. Big thanks to him.
This week we held the usual meetings with community partners, I presented to a class at Glebe Collegiate with the Open Minds program and emceed 3 Stand Up for Mental Health comedy shows in a row at the Ottawa Hospital sites. Plus, we had to keep the drop-in going. It's all fun and inspiring stuff but- wow- am I ever ready to enjoy a mellow weekend with my critters.

I was just thinking about medication and what a mixed blessing it is for us. Most, if not all of us, go through the med soul searching at one time or another. Should I or shouldn’t I? What kind should I try, what sorts of side effects are acceptable, do I need to increase or decrease, how do I know if I’m ready to stop? In my experience, it’s rare for someone to immediately happen upon the right med & dosage that eliminates symptoms without causing side effects and have that work for them long-term. Some are lucky and eventually win the medication lottery.

Even when it works well I think people hate to feel dependent on a pill for their mental well-being. It’s almost as though having to rely on medication is seen as some sort of personal failing. I often hear people speak of recovery in terms of medication status. People who can recover med-free are perceived to be somehow stronger or more advanced. That moral judgment can be tough for someone in pain who feels they require some pharmacological assistance but doesn’t want to take a “step backwards” in their recovery. At times choosing to take meds can feel like admitting defeat, even when they help you to feel better.

In the end it’s all about each person toting up the benefits versus costs to make informed decisions about an imperfect therapy and what’s important to their quality of life. We all have our own demons and our own paths.

By next Monday the PSO offices should be Rock-A-Bye-My-Baby lilac. A bit nursery sounding, but better than the scuffed-up Pestilent Peach we've had for the last 10 years. When I dropped by yesterday to check on the progress I was somewhat ...let's say... displeased to discover the painter was still priming after being in there 5 days. Apparently he got the message and things have been stepped up considerably. At this pace we should be open on schedule.

Mark & I have had a tough time spending money this week. Unusual for the two of us. Perhaps trying to buy air conditioners when it's -42C is a factor but who would have thought it's so hard to buy window blinds? So far we've picked 4 colours only to find out they're all discontinued. There's a lesson to anyone contemplating painting Rock-A-Bye-My-Baby lilac; don't expect to find matching blinds.

Well, I should get off to bed. Tomorrow's another grueling day of painter whipping and blind sample gazing. I might even order our new computer chairs. Dare to dream big.

Anyway, I was reading Werner's log and Denise's comment on same about writing. I started my first diary when I was 8. It had daisies on it and eventually I graduated to the kinds with the little lock. Now I have a full box of completed diaries documenting all my foibles.

They came in handy a few years ago when I was seeing a homeopath. I had to list all the traumas in my life. Hokey Dinah! That was traumatic in itself. I've seen a study that claims people who read their own diaries are often more depressed. Well reading mine depressed the shit out of me. As I read through I kept thinking, "See, I was such a loser and I didn't even know it. I'll always be a loser." Fortunately, that phase didn't last long but it was intense while I was in it. After I could see how I've moved along in life. My more recent journals have a lot more fun and colour in them and a tich less complaining. Just a tich.