Finding HopeIncreasing The Phenelzine (June – July 2023)
Posted on September 23, 2023
TW: Mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts.
NOTE: I wrote this a few months ago but waited to post it. There were a couple of things that I felt I wanted to comment on in the conclusion but I needed a little bit longer before I felt confident enough to do so. So I let things play out a bit but then some life stuff happened and this post got away from me for a bit. But here we are. Here it is.
Things had improved since I’d settled on the daily 30mg of Phenelzine but it still didn’t feel like enough. I wasn’t crushingly depressed but there were still problems, still areas of my life that weren’t back to what they used to be. So, for a while, I’d been thinking about increasing the Phenelzine, upping it to the high dose of 45mg (with my psychiatrist’s permission, of course). I had tried it before and it wasn’t the right thing for me – it was like the lights were too bright all of the time – but I hadn’t been coming from as low a place as I was this time; I hadn’t been trying to pull myself out of such a bad place. So, with that in mind, I wondered whether the higher dose would help, whether it would give me the additional rungs on the ladder that it seemed I still needed.
So I saw my psychiatrist and while he was quick to comment on how much of a change he could see since I’d started on the Phenelzine again, he listened to what I had to say and we discussed trying the higher dose. He asked me what the most important thing to me was and I said that I wanted my songwriting ability back. I’d written a couple of songs since I started taking the Phenelzine again and I loved them but they’d taken so much time and effort to write, much more than it would usually take. I used to write multiple songs a week with ease but, on the 30mg of Phenelzine, it was taking me months to drag one song out of my brain. So I wanted to write like I used to again. He listened and ultimately agreed: he said we’d use my creativity as a benchmark, using how many songs I was writing as a measure of whether the increase was helping or not (alongside whether I had any negative side effects, of course).
For a while, life was overwhelmingly busy and chaotic and there were things I needed to be able to do, that I needed to rely on my body and my behaviour (as much as I could normally, at least) to manage. So it was a while before I was able to increase from 30mg per day to 45mg per day. I started the increase on 17th June 2023 and took notes for the first six weeks (since the side effects and general effects can be quite subtle), finishing this record on 29th July.
And, as always when talking about medication, this is just my experience. Please don’t start, change, or stop taking any medications without the advice and support of a medical professional.
WEEK 1 (15mg in the morning and 30mg at night)
For most of the week, I didn’t feel any different. I have been more keen to engage with stuff, especially new stuff, but that’s not new exactly; it might’ve increased a bit but I couldn’t be sure. I was consistently tired and, on more than one occasion, I fell asleep before I could take my medication at night; I was also really drowsy during the day, needing naps to function, to make it to a decent bedtime. My back pain was relentless too, although my TENS machine did help.
Come the end of the week, my sleep was a mess and I was completely exhausted. I ended up needing multiple naps during the day and still barely making it to a respectable bedtime, forgetting my pills again. But I was managing to do a lot: I worked through my to-do list, went out to see some cool art, managed to avoid a meltdown when a creepy guy wouldn’t leave me alone, and spent my short evening snuggling with the neighbour’s puppies. But even though I hadn’t really had the time to sit down and do any writing, my brain was like a firework show, ideas appearing one after another at a dizzying speed. It was more than a bit overwhelming. I didn’t manage to find out, exhausted as I was, whether I could turn those ideas into anything but it was a definite start.
WEEK 2
The beginning of the week was so hot (the result of a hideous but thankfully short heatwave) that it felt almost impossible to do anything; moving around just made me even hotter, sickeningly so (heat like that makes my POTS symptoms go haywire, which just makes everything harder). For the most part, I dozed, cuddled up with one of the puppies. I was easily overstimulated and exhausted but I made it home to Brighton (with an impromptu nap on the train) and had a quiet evening before going to bed, falling asleep before I could take my pills or turn the light off.
The rest of the week was a really mix. I slept better, longer and deeper – and I actually remembered to turn off the lights and take all of my pills before falling asleep – but I was so tired; I kept falling asleep on the sofa or in the car or really anywhere I sat down. I was just so exhausted. I struggled during the day, unable to concentrate even though it felt like my brain was full of ideas and things I wanted to do. But I just felt like I was being sucked down by sleep and staying awake took so much effort. It made me feel like I might start crying at any moment.
I had some really bad days, where I felt overwhelmed and overstimulated and miserable and just so tired that I couldn’t do anything, which, on top of it all, left me feeling so frustrated. I had a horrible time in therapy and was just feeling really fragile. Plus, I was really stressed about the puppy situation: I want her so badly and I have no idea what’s going on; the idea of losing her from my life makes my heart ache.
But despite all of the difficulties, I was surprisingly productive, and was busier than I’ve been in years. At least that’s what it felt like. I started to work on some of the song ideas that I’ve been turning over in my head; I hung out with friends; I managed to swim; I went to see the fantastic Candi Carpenter play a show in London (I’d missed their last UK shows because I was self-isolating) and then we all went to the pub afterwards and had a great time (highlights include all of us singing Taylor Swift karaoke and running into uni friends I haven’t seen in years); I even did a drawing class. It was all really good but it was just A LOT. It was hard to process it all.
WEEK 3
For the first half of the week, things were okay. My sleep was pretty good: I was sleeping long and deep, although I did have the weird, busy dreams that I’ve come to associate with a medication change. I was still incredibly tired during the day (I fell asleep upright on the sofa several times) but I did manage to get some stuff done. And even though my back was hurting, I did manage some hydrotherapy.
Mentally, I wasn’t doing super well. I just felt really overwhelmed, drained and fragile. It felt like my depression was just hanging around, deep down, all the time. I was still functional and I even managed to do quite a bit of songwriting, more than I’d done in a while, but it was hard. I went to an amazing Maren Morris concert with my friend, Richard, and although I had an amazing time at the show, everything leading up to it and then the aftermath was a really struggle: getting there was exhausting and painful; the disability accommodations were as stressful as always; I was exhausted and freezing by the end of the gig; and it took forever to get home. I had a slow start the next morning, exhausted and aching after the concert, and despite the decent night’s sleep, I was a mess: I was completely overwhelmed and ended up in tears multiple times.
The second half of the week was really difficult. My sleep was a mess, making me a zombie during the day, and my emotions were all right at the surface, raw and ragged. I was beyond stressed and overwhelmed by everything that was coming up over the coming weeks; it felt like it was all barrelling towards me at an unstoppable speed. Both my body and my emotions felt so heavy and I was constantly bursting into tears.
WEEK 4
This week was pretty much dominated by my overwhelming, paralysing anxiety and stress over trying to get Taylor Swift tickets and the hurt and devastation of being treated so badly as a disabled person. I wrote about that here so I won’t rehash it all but I wanted to include what a devastating effect the experience had on my emotional and mental states. While the experience is, of course, separate from whatever the Phenelzine was doing, both are tied up with my emotional regulation and the effect my feelings have on me. As I said in my post, I was basically in various states of meltdown for all three days of the tickets presale. And it wasn’t just the suffocating anxiety of not getting a ticket: the way that Wembley Stadium treated disabled fans was appalling and it was just such a gut-punch to realise that they either didn’t care about us or they didn’t even remember that we exist. It was really distressing. I was so stressed and so depressed, even after I managed to get tickets. Just the thought of not getting to see this show, having looked forward to it for five years, had my emotions so big and loud and devastating that I felt this overwhelming compulsion to scream until my throat tore, to rip my skin off. With so little bringing me joy these days (and my chronic suicidality ever present and oppressive as a dark cloud), the thought occurred to me that, rather than endure the excruciating pain I know I would feel if the shows happened and I couldn’t be there, I should just kill myself to avoid it all. That thought just made me feel even more fucked up than I usually do. My emotions are so big and so precarious that even the smallest thing can tip me into serious and scary lows and this isn’t the smallest thing, given how much Taylor means to me. As I said in my post about the experience, these feelings are due to my mental health, to my depression and my chronic suicidal thoughts, not specifically to seeing Taylor; it’s about the fear of losing one of the few sources of joy when you’re in a really dark place. Those things will be different for everyone but the fear of losing them is so overwhelming that words don’t really do it justice.
The exhaustion and residual stress from that whole… experience had completely drained me of energy and, for several days, I was so tired that I could barely function (although I’d get sudden jolts of adrenaline, thinking I should still be on the phone, that I’d fucked up and forgotten, and was losing my chance). My sleep had been screwed up by my anxiety and I had pain from the physical tension I’d been holding in my body for three long days; both of those took most of the week to settle back to normal, normal being exhausted and sleepy and not able to do much. That was causing me a lot of anxiety too: I had so many things that needed doing but I was just too tired to do them and the anxiety over how they were piling up was starting to get overwhelming. I did manage to spend some time with friends, which was really nice, but I struggled to feel connected while still feeling so emotionally drained.
WEEK 5
The last week had exhausted me and it showed over the following weeks in various different ways. I was going to bed early, sleeping long and deep, and often struggling to wake up. And even with a long night under my belt, I was tired and drowsy during the day, often falling asleep on the sofa (and sometimes at my laptop); I struggled to concentrate, my eyes were tired and straining by the end of a day, and sentences stopped making sense. I was just completely done in. I hadn’t emotionally recovered either. I felt utterly overwhelmed, fragile and miserable; I was suicidal in the face of what just felt like too much. It wasn’t particularly surprising when I had an awful meltdown.
I did manage to be vaguely productive though, despite it all. I worked hard at my hydro and physio; I went to therapy; I managed some writing; I saw a couple of friends and had a good time with them, even if I didn’t feel as present as I usually would; I went to a show a friend runs (and the whole thing made me very emotional); I attended an interesting webinar about ADHD. But, even with how much I was struggling to be present in my mind, nothing felt quite enough, like I hadn’t done enough or gotten as far as I’d wanted to. I’ve been trying not to beat myself up but I’ve never been very good at that, being kind to myself that is.
WEEK 6
Another week and my sleep still wasn’t great. I was still falling asleep early (sometimes forgetting to turn the light off or put in my retainer) and sleeping long hours, although I was starting to wake up at a more reasonable time. I was still really tired during the day, taking some accidental naps, and struggling to focus. It was getting better but, as I said, it wasn’t great.
I was working hard to build in better habits too, alongside the medication and therapy. I worked hard at hydrotherapy and started physiotherapy too. The physio was a bit of a shock to my system and I was sore for the first few days (which disrupted my sleep but then pain always does). But, midweek, I ran for a train and actually caught it, despite thinking that there was no way I was fast enough or strong enough to make it (I would’ve had to wait an hour on a cold platform for the next one so I was certainly motivated). There’s no way that, a year ago, I could’ve managed that; I was so ridiculously proud of myself. So the hydrotherapy has definitely made a difference and I feel confident that the physiotherapy will only complement that.
I was also trying to drink more water. I definitely don’t drink enough and, given that the Autonomic Dysfunction I struggle with as part of my Ehlers Danlos leaves me prone to chronic dehydration, I should be drinking a lot more than the average person. I’m nowhere near that yet but I’m already drinking more than I was when I first measured my liquid intake.
It’s hard to know for sure but I felt like I was more productive and motivated than I had been previously. I was actually getting things done and getting them done at a faster pace: blog writing, songwriting, researching. I even went to an online writing workshop that I really, really enjoyed: the session was fun, the people were really nice, and I was really excited about what I wrote. My brain was just desperate for new things and new information; it was excited to learn. I don’t really know how to explain it any other way. I also went out and spent time with friends, went to a songwriters’ circle, and saw family friends. I was more social than I’d been in ages but I was kind of feeding on that, which is really unusual for me. But it was nice. And exciting. Oh, and I also started mentoring sessions for my creative projects, which I felt really optimistic about.
Unfortunately, the week didn’t end as well as it had begun, my depression hitting me like a tidal wave at full strength. It was so overwhelming that I felt like I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything. I was also really stressing about food and eating, feeling guilty as soon as I ate anything. I was miserable and exhausted and couldn’t focus on anything; I slept on and off during the day, dizzy and ears ringing. One side of my body was tingling too and we were this close to calling the doctor. It was horrible. I also found that I physically couldn’t relax: my body felt tensed up even though I wasn’t tensing my muscles (so I obviously couldn’t relax them if I wasn’t actually causing the problem). After several hours, my muscles started to hurt but I still couldn’t unclench them. My legs were twitching too and when I thought about it, I realised that that wasn’t new, that it had been happening on and off for weeks, as had the tensing in certain muscles. The more I thought about that, the more stressed out I got. I know that certain doses and/or extended use of certain medications, including Phenelzine can cause Tardive Dyskinesia, a movement disorder with symptoms including sudden and irregular movements in your face and body. It’s something that gets worse over time and the idea of developing it was really distressing to me.
In the following weeks, my sleep evened out, helped by CBD gummies and the occasional Diazepam or Zolpidem. I spoke to my psychiatrist about the twitching and whether it could be Tardive Dyskinesia. He felt that it was unlikely, that a much more likely cause was the physiotherapy, which I’d started around the same time the twitching started; he thought it was more likely that it was just my muscles waking up with the exertion I was putting them through for the first time in so long. So my anxiety was abated.
But now, several months later, the twitching is still happening and my anxiety is growing again. I’m going to go and see my psychiatrist and have a proper conversation about it because if it is something – something that needs to be dealt with rather than something that’ll just resolve in time – I need to know so that, at the very least, I can think about the options, whatever they are. It’s hard to believe they’ll be anything but bad though; past experience doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.
World Suicide Prevention Day 2023
Posted on September 10, 2023
TW: Discussions of suicidal thoughts, suicidal urges, self harm, and irrational thinking. PLEASE think carefully before reading further if these things may trigger you or cause you distress. Please always put yourself and your mental health first.
This, I think, is the first time I’ve written directly about my experience with suicidal thoughts and urges. I’ve mentioned it in relation to the side effects of medication and written around the edges of it but I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it in such detail. I have omitted certain moments and details since it’s been proven that sharing about plans and methods can lead to further suicides but this is as honest as I can manage, even though it terrifies me. But as hard as it is, I’m sharing these experiences because I think it’s so deeply important for people to understand what it’s like to feel this way, to live in so much pain, to feel so desperate. Keeping these stories in the dark only increases the shame and stigma so, even though it’s difficult and uncomfortable and scary, we need to talk about them. It’s the only way the world will get better at supporting people who are struggling.
I’ve experienced suicidal thoughts on and off since I was a teenager but for a long time, they were passive. Walking to school, I’d cross the road and, dreading the day ahead, I’d imagine getting hit by a car. But the thought would leave as quickly as it arrived. I thought it was normal. To quote Ned Vizzini, “Who hasn’t thought about killing themselves, as a kid? How can you grow up in this world and not think about it?” (I may have hated that book but that line really resonated with me.) This was before I was diagnosed as autistic* and I thought everyone felt as overwhelmed by their emotions, by their anxieties, as I did – as I do – but were just better at managing it.
*Autistic individuals, especially autistic women, are at a much higher risk of suicide than the general population; the factors include mental health problems (especially if they go untreated), the impact of a late diagnosis, challenging life events such as bullying and ableism, the burden of masking, isolation, and cognitive inflexibility, which can lead to difficulty in seeing any option but suicide. (x)
(Left: During secondary school // Right: During sixth form college)
I continued to experience passive suicidal thoughts and then, during my second year of sixth form college, I started to struggle with depression and my ever-present anxiety reached all-new heights (although, in comparison to what I experience now, I’d happily go back to it). Almost a decade, multiple diagnoses, and more than twenty medications later, my depression is the worst it’s ever been and I’ve been actively suicidal for almost two years. There have been short periods over the years (always in concert with the times I tried medications other than Phenelzine) where I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts but, for the last two years, they have been almost constant.
They began in earnest when I started taking Xaggatin for my ADHD (and had to stop taking Phenelzine because my ADHD clinician was insistent that the side effects were unsustainable – I disagreed for multiple reasons but this isn’t the post for that story). I thought the intensity of the thoughts – and their slow, scary manifestation into urges and intentions and plans – was a side effect but it wasn’t long before my depression crept back in, sucking me down. Between that and the other awful side effects, my psychiatrist switched me to another medication, Bupropion, an antidepressant that’s supposed to help with ADHD but it only made things worse: I was so anxious, depressed, and suicidal that I couldn’t function. I tried a few more antidepressants, was traumatised by several more doctors, and had the crisis team called out (although they didn’t do anything, including the things they’d said they’d do). I quit treatment entirely for a while, unable to mentally handle it; I basically retreated to my bed and stayed there. I couldn’t engage with the world: it just hurt too much. But without treatment (I didn’t even have a therapist at this point, another thing that had spun my life out of control), the claws of my depression dug deeper and deeper. I remember one day where I had the sickening realisation that I wasn’t doing anything worthwhile with my life, that I had wasted my time and my education, that I was a complete waste of space. There was another day when I realised that something had broken inside me, something that could never be fixed, and I was no longer the person I had been and would only ever be a defective, inferior version of her. I avoided mirrors for months. On New Year’s Eve of 2021, I stared at the fairy lights in my living room and thought about how I had no desire to survive even the next 365 days. It wasn’t a resolution but I felt it with a quiet certainty. I thought about it everyday but then somehow that dreaded day arrived and I was still here, despite that certainty, despite my plans. I hated myself for it, feeling like a pathetic, weak-willed coward. It was a terrible night, not that I remember much of it given the distress I was in.
Somehow I ended up on Phenelzine again, despite my revulsion at the thought; I still don’t really know how it happened and I still find myself so angry about it that it feels like it might consume me. But, for a while, the chronic suicidality was relocated to the side burner: it was all still there but it wasn’t the only thing in my brain anymore. I could ignore it for sometimes days at a time. But after a while, my depression seemed to billow back in, like ink in water. The suicidal thoughts and urges became – and still are – the constant undertow to my thoughts and sometimes it’s all so overwhelming that I can barely breathe. Self harming has long stopped being an effective coping strategy as it just makes me feel pathetic for not doing more damage. I don’t know why I haven’t acted on these thoughts. I don’t know why I’m still here. If asked, I’d probably say, “because I’m a coward,” even though I know that I’d likely get a verbal thrashing from anyone I voiced that feeling too. I can practically hear my therapist (yes, I’m back in therapy) encouraging me to dissect that feeling. I know it’s not a healthy, rational thought but it is a real one. It’s a weird state to live in and the conflict of planning for a future I don’t particularly want to exist in is disorientating and miserable. It’s exhausting. But I know what my fate is, whether it comes sooner or later, and I have for years.
Following a slightly different train of thought, it’s very strange to me that people can’t seem to tell, just because it’s such an overwhelming experience for me. I feel like I have a massive neon sign over my head: “SUICIDAL.” But then I wouldn’t be surprised if people just don’t comment because they don’t know what to say. The last time I self-harmed, I cut my face because I needed to look as broken as I felt (or inasmuch as I could physically manage, which wasn’t enough – more shame and self-hatred) and almost nobody even mentioned it. (Not that that was the point but it did surprise me. Most of the time I avoided the question. I only lied once: I was in a weird headspace already and the question took me off guard and I just didn’t have the emotional energy to explain.) The cut got infected and took weeks to heal. I’m glad it left a scar but I resent it for not being bigger: the disfigurement doesn’t accurately reflect the feelings, not by a long shot.
(Left: The dressing on my face after I self harmed // Right: The scar after it finally healed, having got infected.)
In some ways, I feel like I’m already disappearing: I struggle to make sense of my face in the mirror and, while I don’t know about this year, there are fewer than ten photos of me in 2022; my autistic masking is so ingrained that the real, brutally honest me who is struggling and suffering (who so desperately needs to be seen) gets locked away so tightly that she might as well not exist, while a socially acceptable and palatable projection of me – the only version of me that people could want, says the voice in my head – takes over my body, acting almost without my permission; I feel like no one knows the real me any more, not after months in bed, besieged by suicidal thoughts and impulses. I feel permanently damaged by it but people are still treating me as who I used to be and not who I am now (not that I think it’s their fault – while the damage feels so deeply clear to me, I know that it’s not visible to anyone else). I remember the old me. I remember the person who could be proud of being different and who advocated for acceptance, even though she still felt broken. It was a balancing act but there was balance. Now the broken feeling has broken the scale. I feel unrecognisable. I noted down somewhere – last year at some point, I think – that feeling like this feels like one elongated near death experience. Almost every day for more than eighteen months, I’ve been so close to death that I can feel it’s presence in the air when I breathe in; I can feel it in my lungs. One decision – one split second – away. Maybe it’s just dying in slow motion. Feeling this way… I don’t know how it doesn’t change you.
I was reading various articles as I both researched and procrastinated this post and, in one of them, the author had written this: “Because depression, as we all know, is almost always treatable.” The statistics vary, depending on where you look, but a high percentage of people (this page claims between 80% and 90%) do eventually respond well to treatment. After ten years, over twenty medications, and more hours in multiple therapies than I can count, I’ve only ever managed periods of being mentally well. The longest period was, I think, two and a half years at the most. Only one medication actually helps and I’ve run out of new ones to try. The other options, according to a consultant in another very distressing appointment, would be the Ketamine trials or Electroconvulsive Therapy, neither of which doctors fully understand (the same could be said for antidepressants). Given how abnormally I respond to multiple medications, I’m terrified of how these treatments might affect me. I’m terrified of how Phenelzine is affecting me. With all of that in mind, I can’t help but wonder – and have wondered for a long time – if I’m included in that small percentage that doesn’t respond to treatment. And if that’s the case, it means that this is forever and that is an unbearable thought.
I’ve spent a lot of time talking with my therapist about this – and no doubt this post will spark multiple new discussions – and we did talk briefly about what I could write for this post, what would feel actually helpful to someone reading (I never figured that out, by the way, so I have no idea if this is helpful or not). She said that the most important thing is to talk about it and that it’s much more dangerous not to talk about it. I agree with the latter part but I’m not convinced that talking about it is helping me; I often feel like I’m just going around in circles and exhausting myself. She asked me what I would say to someone I loved if they expressed all of this to me and the truth is that I honestly don’t know. I don’t know because I’ve never heard anything that’s helped me. I think we all have the knee-jerk reaction to say, “Please stay. I love you and I’d miss you.” It’s true and it’s heartfelt but is it fair to ask someone to live in agony, in unbearable misery, because you’d miss them? We want to say, “Things will get better.” But we don’t know that. We can’t promise that. We want to say, “How can I help?” But it’s unlikely that there’s any one thing a person can do to help, although that one is more specific to the individual person. If someone asked me that, I couldn’t give them an answer because there is nothing they can do to help. It’s so much bigger than one person, than them or than me. Maybe these help some people. For me, none of these things change the reasons I’m suicidal and they’ve only added unhelpful pressure and stress. I’d hate to do that to someone else. I’m not saying the right words aren’t out there. I’ve just never heard them. Or discovered them.
Obviously I haven’t shared everything. As I said, I didn’t want to share things that have been proven to push people passed their limits (although I hope everyone read the warning and acted accordingly and prioritised their mental health) but there are also certain things that are too hard to share, too raw, too loaded. But I wanted to share my experience today, not just because it’s an overwhelming aspect of my life, but because sharing our experiences and our feelings is, as I said in my introduction, one of the few ways (and possibly the most powerful way) that the world gets better at helping people. People can only do that if they understand the battles being fought and the support that’s needed. I hope that sharing my story can help with that, even if it’s just a drop in the ocean.
RESOURCES:
Amanda Tapping: Embracing Mental Health as a Fandom (Livestream)
Posted on June 18, 2023
I have been a fan of Amanda Tapping – Samantha Carter in Stargate SG-1, Helen Magnus in Sanctuary, actor, director, and more – for years, since I was about fifteen or sixteen (so over a decade). She’s an amazing actor, a fantastic director, a deep and creative thinker, and an incredibly generous person: for years, she did – amongst other things – annual weekend-long charity events, each one raising thousands and thousands of pounds for charity. I’ve always loved her performances, especially as these two characters, (and her commitment to the integrity of the characters) and they had a huge impact on me; even after all these years, there are moments from the shows and from the audio commentaries (that I listened to obsessively) that I see show up in my life and my creative approach. They – and she – really did change my life.
Back in 2016, I had the opportunity to meet her at her annual GABIT event, AT9. This event involved several Q&A sessions when she not only answered questions but told stories from her life and acting experiences. Attendees also got to take photos with her and get her autograph, getting little pockets of time to talk to her. Meeting her was an amazing experience, even if I was so unbelievably nervous that I could barely talk. But she was so sweet, holding my hands the whole time and just pulling me out of myself, making it a little easier. She really is the loveliest human being.
A few weeks ago, I got an email from The Companion, a website focussed on sci-fi media with this goal: “To create the most special, fun, and welcoming place where as a geek, you can be yourself and bring you closer to the creators, actors, experts… and each other. We launched The Companion in October 2020 during lockdown on this shared belief: geeks deserve a high quality home just like fans of sports, fashion, music, and other ‘premium’ genres.” Their think pieces, character and episode analyses, behind the scenes articles and so on are all really interesting and their interviews with so many people involved with these shows are always fascinating and good fun. It’s a great site, even without events like these. Back to said email…
“We’re absolutely thrilled to announce this very special event with Amanda Tapping – and all for a good cause. As one of our cherished Companion members, we wanted you to be the first in line for an opportunity to meet the legendary actor, director, and producer. Join us on June 3rd, 2023, for a live online interview with Amanda Tapping covering a subject close to her heart: mental health. Hear stories of how Stargate fandom saves lives and share some of your own. ‘As part of the sci-fi community, I’ve seen firsthand how we can all come together and support each other,’ says Amanda, ‘and I would like to extend that same compassion and understanding to issues around mental health.’“
So I love Amanda Tapping and mental health is a deeply important cause for me as well so this seemed like a gift from the universe. I bought a ticket straight away. There was also an opportunity to meet her online after the event but, as much as I would’ve liked to, I just felt like it wasn’t right for me. For one thing, it was in a groups for a short period of time and I know I wouldn’t have felt able to say anything I wanted to say with an audience. And it was just too expensive to justify, especially with that context. So I reluctantly clicked away and hoped I’d get another opportunity in the future.
We did, however, have the opportunity to share a story that would be passed on to her and I really liked that idea; it felt much less exposing, even if it did get shared during the livestream. So I wrote about how Sanctuary in particular got me through sixth form when I first started struggling with depression and anxiety; I had this fun little daydream about working on the set, working on the scripts for the show, and I probably spent more time in that world than I did in the real one (I swear, I had multiple cork boards with storylines planned out). I couldn’t have gotten through that period of my life without it, without her.
I really wasn’t sure what to expect from the livestream, how it would go, but it was highly enjoyable despite the emotional nature of it. Everyone was very thoughtful and heartfelt but still funny and ultimately hopeful. I won’t share everything because it was a unique and special experience that we all paid for but there are things that I think no one would mind if I shared because of how they could help people. And I wanted to share the experience of this livestream with someone I love and respect so much.
The first thing Amanda did, after being introduced, was lead everyone through a breathing exercise – breathe in for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four – that she does with her daughter, Olivia, when she’s feeling “super anxious.” She clarified that she’s not an expert or anything but that she has been through “things” and that she’s maybe, as her daughter has said, a person who “feels things a little too much.” She feels it and she wants to help people who are also feeling it; that was a really nice way of putting it and it was nice to hear. She was pretty emotional from the start, telling us – and there were a lot of us, in the comments and just watching – that she was “really, really grateful that [we were] all [there].”
I hadn’t forgotten how much I love her but seeing her again and hearing her voice, I was just overwhelmed by how much she means to me, how much she’s impacted my life. And I was just so, so pleased to see her. It was just pure, overwhelming joy. And from the look on her face, she felt the same way about being there, about connecting with everyone and being ‘together’ again. It was really sweet. And the first thing she shared felt very typically Amanda: it was the analogy of how we all carry bags of rocks, bags that only grow heavier over time, and how we all need to learn how to put them down now and then, take a breath, and just be, just be a person without that burden: “We all have our burdens but I think it’s really important to take a moment and put it down and just see what it feels like to not carry it around for a minute.” We’ll always carry those burdens and they help us to help other people but we need to look after ourselves too.
There was some significant discussion about COVID, both how she’d seen it affect other people (even in the way that people are driving more aggressively) and how she felt it had affected her. She talked quite a bit about her experience – about her family, about her fears, about her losses – more so than I would’ve expected. She’d felt isolated and scared and didn’t understand what was happening and why it was still going on; she had a lot of anxiety, especially watching her daughter go to high school in a mask every day (once schools opened again). And while it was, of course, so important to wear a mask, she talked about how hard it was to breathe with a mask and face shield for fourteen hours a day on a film set, getting home and feeling oxygen deprived. “It was easy to fall into isolation,” she said, “It was easy to go down the rabbit hole as I so often do,” and it took a while for her friends to pull her out of that. It’s amazingly comforting to hear someone you so admire and respect express the same feelings as you. It made me quite emotional to hear and even more so to think about what she was really sharing with us: these really personal details of her life. I’m always so touched when people, especially people like her with public profiles, share such personal details and trust us with them; it feels like an honour, a trust that feels really sacred.
Rebecca, the livestream host, asked her what had helped her that might help others and Amanda talked about several things, all good points and interesting insights into her life:
- She talked about how she and two friends would meet over Zoom every week and have a cocktail hour together. She also did various other Zoom based socialising with other friends, her brothers, her family… The thing that really helped was connecting. (The video connection went out at one point and the screen went dark, which – as Amanda pointed out – was very ironic since there’d been so much talk of connection.) She did talk about how hard that can be though because you know you’ll get a response which you’ll then have to deal with and the whole thing can feel so draining; I can definitely relate to that.
- She also talked about how important it is to share the load with your friends. It is, of course, important to be there for your friends but you also need to let them be there for you. People want to know how you are and they want to help; it can be hard to let them in but it can not only help your mental health but also strengthen your friendship.
- She talked about how exercise makes her feel better and stronger, how it’s taken a long time to feel safe enough to go to the gym again post the height of COVID. She actually talked about having a less than healthy relationship with food during the lockdowns – “Certainly during COVID and everything that went on, I mean, I ate every single feeling I had” and “We ate our feelings, we ate our anxiety, we baked a lot of bread!” – which was very refreshing; so many of us shy away from those conversations but she shared those negative coping mechanisms and how they weren’t good for her and what she did to balance them out: she talked about how it sounds trite but “physical activity is key.” Even if you can’t go for a run, just getting outside is good. She started her day in the woods – her happy place – with Martin Wood (who she’s worked with for years and especially closely on Sanctuary – I cannot express how happy it makes me that they’re still such close friends and hang out regularly), walking their dogs. That was how she got herself mentally prepared for the livestream.
- She said that she’s not good at stopping (somehow this did not surprise me) so she kept moving, getting better at baking and cooking and sewing just to keep herself busy, although she’s trying to get better at relaxing.
- During one of the stories shared (they couldn’t share all of them obviously but they did share a few), the writer talked about rewatching, including a quote from the psychologist Pamela Rutledge: “It can become really therapeutic, especially if you are feeling anxious. Watching the same piece multiple times reaffirms that there’s order in the world and that it can create a sense of safety and comfort on a primal level.” I’ve always found rewatching to be both enjoyable and helpful to my mental health and Amanda clearly felt the same way, that there’s no shame in it and that people shouldn’t be so weirdly judgemental about it: “Whatever you need to put the blanket on yourself and feel safe, even if it’s just safe for an hour, even if it’s just to calm your breathing for an hour, do it… Like, absolutely.” She got visibly emotional again – “I’m gonna cry but…” – and talked about how anxious she had been about the livestream, whether she could actually do it and whether she could do it justice, and so she rewatched Downton Abbey with her daughter which is their thing, especially when one or both of them are anxious (I find it so comforting that we both do this, albeit with different shows). She said that, whatever it takes, we have to allow ourselves these comforts without shame or judgement, whatever it takes to get through. As I said, she was visibly emotional (to the point of actual tears and tissues) and it reminded me of just how much she cares; she cares so fucking much. She cares more than we could possibly imagine and that’s just so moving.
- She and Rebecca discussed the idea of always appearing fine, of never letting people see when you’re struggling. Amanda said that, when she’s running a set, she’ll put on the mask and make sure everyone feels confident and feels like they can rely on her because that’s what they need but, when it’s safe, it’s so important to let it all go and not be okay if that’s what you need. The examples she gave were amazingly honest and, again, I was touched that she would share these things with us; She’s such an open, generous person and the fact that she trusts us with these parts of her life mean so much to me that it’s almost overwhelming. As she said, this idea of allowing yourself to be yourself and fully feel what you’re feeling isn’t new or groundbreaking but it is important and needs to continue to be part of the conversation. She said, “It will be okay and it will pass,” and it was hard not to feel her conviction even though I often don’t feel that way.
- They also talked about social media and how often it can become the highlight reel of your life (I’ve always found this viewpoint really interesting because it never, ever occurred to me to use social media in that way and so I never have, which makes it fascinating to me that people do), which isn’t a new concept (family photo albums, for example) but has gotten out of control with social media. Amanda said that she noticed herself doing that on Instagram and that maybe she needs to post “the shit” more often. They also discussed how easy it is for people to send hateful messages through social media and Amanda said how hurtful it was – and still is – to read some of the awful messages about herself or the show she was in at the time, although the worst ones were when people attacked her appearance: “It killed me every time I read something crappy.” They talked about how one of the best ways to handle that sort of thing is to take it to a friend, to talk it through and even make fun of it to make it less painful.
Back to the stories for a moment. As I said, a handful of the stories submitted were shared over the course of the livestream. (Mine wasn’t one of them – I think it was probably too long and also didn’t serve as a jumping off point for more questions – but that was fine; they’re all being passed on to her so she will see it. That’s good enough for me. Apparently they were all really uplifting and just amazing examples of this fandom, that they reflect a deeply inspiring reality of how these fandoms have been so much more than just sources of entertainment for so many people: how they’ve provided solace, a sense of belonging, and even lifelines in the worst times, a description that was really moving to me.) There were lots of people saying that she and her work as various characters have saved their lives and you could see how much that meant to her. At one point, she used the word ‘verklempt’ (a word I’d never heard before but which means ‘overcome with emotion’ and you could really see that she was). One of the stories talked about fandom really well and what it means to people and Amanda was really taken with the description…
“Wow, that’s beautiful put. Holy moly. And it’s true. I don’t know if I can add to that, that’s just very beautifully articulate.”
Rebecca talked about how, in researching for the stream, she found articles about how sci-fi and how the escapism it provides can be bad for your mental health and found that very surprising. That had surprised her because she’s personally always used sci-fi to get more in touch with the world around her. Amanda completely agreed and they talked about how that idea bothered them both – that the escapism of sci-fi is a bad thing – and why. Amanda talked about how sci-fi is so often maligned and characterised as the ‘geeky’ genre; I find it so heartening to know that she’s always been able to see what it could be. She talked about how she doesn’t think you can escape too far, that being able to escape is important: we can escape into the thing and then, through the internet, we can connect with people all over the world. A lot of people just don’t get that. And following on from that, she talked about how, in her experience, the Stargate fandom is full of really nice people and the Sanctuary fans were always so generous and kind, how she constantly sees fans supporting each other, online and in real life, and how fiercely they wanted to help with her charity, Sanctuary For Kids. She said that she’s observed a special and unique generosity from sci-fi fans, perhaps because so many people feel seen by the characters and shows in this genre.
She talked about how hearing people’s stories means so much to her, how it’s had such a big impact on her. Apparently her favourite stories are the ones about what the characters mean to people and how those connections have made them feel stronger (she mimed hugging everyone, which was really cute). The number of stories like that was really moving but there were also so many stories about how people felt that Amanda herself had saved them and Rebecca asked her what that felt like. You could see how deeply that moved her – continues to move her – and she sniffed so I think it had actually moved her to tears. She could see how much Sam Carter meant to all of these people, especially young women and that felt like a huge sense of responsibility, that Carter was – and still is – this huge role model. She felt like she couldn’t let the show screw up her story so she would fight the writers on certain decisions despite not being a confrontational person. She’s talked about that a lot and it always makes me think how lucky we all were to have Amanda Tapping cast as Samantha Carter because someone else might not have pushed so hard for the character and for the audience.
The final story described Amanda as being “a light in the darkness” and she was clearly quite overwhelmed by that (something that I found both surprising and really touching, considering how often she must’ve seen messages like this over the years): “Wow, um, the only thing I can say to that is that, um, it works both ways and that, in my hours of darkness, the fandom has helped me see the light and feel okay. It’s not that you’re just helping each other, you’ve certainly helped me and I know a lot of other actors who go, ‘Oh, like, people do care and people do like us…’ And, for me, I…. It’s really important to me to connect to fans when I meet them… It’s given me a whole other world of experience. But it does, it goes both ways. It absolutely goes both ways. I’ve been lifted up out of fires more than you guys could possibly know, by your kindness and your generosity and your love.” She was visibly emotional again and I was practically weeping. It’s easy to think that we, as individuals, don’t affect her but clearly we do and that’s a lot of feeling that I’m not entirely sure what to do with.
Eventually they wrapped up the livestream and Amanda wished us all goodbye: “I love you all and it’s been a real honour to be a part of this fandom. It’s been such a huge gift in my life so thank you.” She blew us a kiss and then it was over. It was moving and thoughtful and considerate and generous and a really lovely experience. I really hope that they do do more of these conversations – Amanda said that she wants to revisit all of this, how this is just the start, just scratching the surface of a very big conversation – because it was very inspiring and I think they really could do good, even if none of us know what that looks like yet.
It was a lovely hour and I really hope that they continue to do these discussions. And seeing Amanda on my screen again, hearing her talk about all of these things that are so important to all of us, I would so love to see her again. I would have reversed my decision on the post stream meet and greet sessions on the spot. She’s visiting London for London Film and Comic Con in July and I’ve been going back and forth about going for months, even more so after the livestream. I would love to meet her again – so much has changed since the last time I saw her (not that I’d be filling her in on everything but I feel different and this me would like to meet her) – but conventions feel so scary and overwhelming, overstimulating on every level. But then I got an email that she was doing a talk too and, after a long conversation with my Mum, I’ve decided to try. There are other cool people there but I’m not going to try and take on too much, just going to Amanda’s talk and meeting her. Hopefully I will be able to handle it – the noise, the people, the anxiety – and have a good time; the tickets have been purchased and now I guess we just have to wait and see.
Finding Hope 