mental health

The Quiet Time

Casey Shank, M.Ed., LPCC · Jul 12, 2018 · 3 Comments

I haven’t been able to write about this part of my life. There are no big secrets, no big events and no real revelations. But there is stuff. The stuff most people experience. I finally have a job that fits. I have a dog I love. I go on adventures. I go to movies. I watch (A LOT) of TV. I tell ridiculous and exaggerated stories. I dream about the future… but not as much as I used to.

I always feel tired in some way. Most of it has to do with my health, but some of it is lack of motivation. I have been so motivated, driven, and determined for most of my life. Now I’m just… not. I think some of my tired is grief. I am grieving the loss of my former self. I am grieving for my friends who are really sick and have beautiful families who still desperately need them. I have a lot of these friends right now. I have 2 close friends who are experiencing cancer for the 4th time. These strong women have young kids. They have things to do.

Somehow, my empathy, love, and ability to be realistic is a really good fit for those who are struggling. I don’t have a lot of judgement about how people react to illness. I think everyone is on their own path, but I relentlessly invite myself to join them and support them on this path. I consider myself fortunate to not have a family to take care of. This lets me give of myself in ways that other people are not able. I will give you a ride, have long phone conversations, sit with you in the hospital, and make you laugh. I have the flexibility to be wherever I am needed. I can give you 100% of my attention.

I love my friends so much and I would never change those relationships. But now, I am sad. I am sad that I will lose them. I am sad to see them suffer side effects. I am so sad for their families. I don’t want to see them in pain.

I have cried a lot lately. I have cried for so much loss in my life. I cry when I am in physical pain and when I am depressed. I cry because I want to have more energy. I cry when I compare myself to other people. My emotions are all over the place. I am highly sensitive, yet very strong. I have learned (with a lot of help from my mom) that the hard times don’t last forever. They may come back… but they won’t stay forever.

Because I know there are times when I will have relief, I get really excited about most things. I have a habit of calling everything an adventure. I even think it is an adventure to go to the grocery store. I always take a moment to look around and take in the beautiful places I visit. I have a lot of gratitude. I also think out loud, ramble and sometimes talk just because I feel like it. People tell me I have a tendency to narrate my life.

In a way, this is the quiet time. I don’t know what makes it quiet. It isn’t that I have miraculously stopped talking. I think things that happen are not as loud as they normally are. By loud, I mean hectic, chaotic, and disorienting. It is quiet by choice. I stay at home a lot more. I don’t put myself into the middle of madness. Sometimes, the quiet time is so sad. It can be lonely. It can be refreshing and renewing. Sometimes it can just simply be boring. Sometimes, it just is.

We all need to experience the quiet time. It is not like it is better or worse. It is just needed. It is a time to reflect, to listen, to grieve, and to experience simplicity. I invite you to explore what your quiet time looks like, how it feels, what it makes you think, and if you agree that it is necessary.

In your quiet time,

Be Well

What Is This Acceptance Business?

Casey Shank, M.Ed., LPCC · May 27, 2018 · 1 Comment

A year ago, I had no problem filling the pages. I used to be able to sit down and type a whole blog without too much effort. I had so much to say. So much I wanted to share. Now I feel like I am not sure how to do it anymore. I think it is just temporary. Right now, I just struggle to express myself in a deeply connected way.

This year, I have struggled with loss in a whole new way. I kind of feel like I am a really crappy player in a sped up game of dodgeball. The hits come really fast and I can only move in slow motion. I continue to face loss when I find out I face continued health problems. These are new. They are way less mental and way more physical. Since the beginning of the year, I have felt limited by new physical health issues. I feel constricted and even sometimes paralyzed. That powerlessness hasn’t given me the drive to stand up to my limitations. It has given me the ability to accept. Because acceptance looks kind of new to me, I don’t always understand it. I have really high expectations of myself and so I feel like I am settling or giving up. I’m pretty sure that isn’t what it is. I am in unfamiliar territory. I am “content”.

I experience less frustration and more “oh well”. What on earth does “oh well” mean??! Is it like well, that happened…moving on. I need another word. Maybe the feeling is acceptance, but what if it is complacency?? I haven’t been fierce and resilient for all of these years to easily recognize what it is to accept and go with it. Is this another way to fight? To survive? … Just being? Just letting things happen? It doesn’t feel like I am blowing off change. It feels like it just may not have to be as much of a blow every time. But I am kind of scared that will turn me numb. That I won’t fight as hard. Do I even need to fight as hard? Help me understand this.

I have also experienced a lot of major loss this year. Finally, my friendships with other cancer survivors has caught up with me. Not everyone comes out of this like I did. It seems like at least once or twice a month, I have lost a friend to this disease. I have chosen to hold on to my beloved friends with all of my might, keep them close, be by their sides, and face big disappointments with them. I have lost friends with young children.

I don’t have what is known as survivors guilt where one would think, “Why them? Why not me?” That is not really how my brain works. I have sadness. I have done my best to the end to not let my friends feel alone. But sometimes, after that, I can’t grieve. I can’t grieve anymore. They are gone. But boy, did I love the shit out of them when they were here. I laughed, I cried, I held and hugged. But then it is over. My emotions won’t work the way they used to. I don’t stop thinking about them, or honoring their memory, but I don’t cry as much as I used to about death. I just accept and move on.

I don’t understand this acceptance thing. I keep trying to judge if it is good or bad. I know that it “just is”. It is uncomfortable to feel this way. It is uncomfortable to know that all of the therapy I have gone to and all of the work I have done ends up looking like this. Acceptance, content. Now the work is to accept that I have reached what I have been trying to lean into. Mindfulness-weird peace. Why is this uncomfortable?

Be well

Happy Birthday Blog!

Casey Shank, M.Ed., LPCC · Feb 25, 2018 · Leave a Comment

First things first, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my blog!! I started this blog a year ago and have been faithfully posting most weeks. This is a point of pride for me because I have committed and stuck with it. Hopefully you all have taken something away as readers. Some weeks are uplifting, some are strange, some informative, and all are from my heart. This week was a little all over the place. I wanted to post a video. I thought I was on top of it when I made a fun, playful video on Thursday, but after a few days, I watched and thought it was a little bizarre just to tell you about staying at my mom’s house and the day-to-day of it. I had a fun time playing with my imovie. Here is the lighthearted video with my happy birthday to my blog dance at the end.

Today I was feeling a little more serious and having “deep thoughts”. I made a video to try to express myself, but it got repetitive and all over the place. That made it very long. I didn’t want to make another one because I have been fighting a migraine for 3 days and I am low on energy. Perhaps I will take a week to sort it all out and come back to it. Sometimes we have to take a minute, gather our thoughts, and be concise to get our message across in a powerful way. For now, enjoy this silly little short.

Have a good week and be well!

Chronic Advocacy Video- New Release!

Casey Shank, M.Ed., LPCC · Feb 11, 2018 · Leave a Comment

After some very helpful feedback about my video, I realized my message was not coming across how I wanted it to. My intentions are to educate and empower my clients to advocate for themselves. I provide the skills, knowledge and framework for them to confidently do this. While I am an advocate, I teach others to do that on their own for themselves. With A LOT of help from Trevor Croft Media, I am proud to present my new awesome video! Be Well!

This Is Depression

Casey Shank, M.Ed., LPCC · Jan 21, 2018 · Leave a Comment

I feel like I have been in bed for weeks

I am scared of committing to anything

I feel “lazy” and “helpless”

My favorite place is the movie theater and I escape there multiple times a week

I get another diagnosis and it feels like it is swallowing me

I try desperately to help others because it is too hard to help myself

I am lonely

I lose a friend and feel numb at the funeral

I am terrified to start a new job

I am afraid of being judged- while judging myself

I am anxious

I am exhausted

My room is a mess

I am in SO MUCH physical pain

I am tired of going to the doctor

I only want to see my family and people I really trust

I look forward to bedtime

The grocery store is my enemy

I am scared I will sound crazy

I break promises

I feel ugly

I’m hungry and feel too frustrated and limited by my diet that I give up on making food

All of the things I NEED TO DO get put off or left behind.

This is not the story of someone else

This is Here and Now

This is me

This is Depression

mental health

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