My Wellness Toolbox

I recently moved from my parents’ home to my own apartment in Oshawa. Moving is stressful on its own, but in my case there’s the added stress of this being the first time I’d be living alone since my suicide attempt. To be frank, I didn’t know if I was ready. I was afraid of a relapse.

Because I didn’t want to put my health at risk I spoke with my psychiatrist about these concerns. To his credit, he arranged for me to join an intensive day group program.

Wellness Toolbox

One of the key topics we discussed in the program was distress management strategies. These included distraction techniques and self-soothing techniques that touch on all the senses. They also included techniques to improve the moment and critical thinking practices. The idea is that with these skills we’d be able to create a wellness toolbox to turn to when our distress started to overwhelm.

The toolbox itself encapsulates many of the ideas we discussed. In essence, it’s a container within which you place beneficial objects, objects that can help you transform your mood. The goal is to touch upon as many senses as possible so that the level of distraction is maximized and the level of distress minimized.

The session ended with the facilitator challenging us to create our own wellness toolbox. Many of us did.

My toolbox contains the following items:

  1. My Form 42 and discharge papers. My suicide attempt was the low point of my depressive episode. Paradoxically, it was also the time when the ceaseless chatter in my head stopped. This created a blissful silence that allowed hope to take root. That silence gave birth to my desire to heal.
  2. An SD card that has photographs taken by my son and I. With each photo, I recall the fun days we shared. These memories were hidden by The Black and rediscovered as I slowly worked my way to better mental health. The SD card is in a digital picture frame so I see the photos daily.
  3. A picture of my son as a toddler. In it he’s smiling broadly and filled with the innocent animation that only children display.
  4. The business card of G. G., the counselor who attended upon me at the hospital. I met the man three times but his impact on my recovery has been tremendous. He gave me the telephone number (actually, the fax number) for the Canadian Mental Health Association (Durham), which I continue to interact with. G. G. also used the word “mindfulness”, a practice that I’ve researched and try to practice daily.
  5. The only photograph I have of my grandfather. My granda was a postman in Glasgow. Each Sunday, he and I rode the “Batman” train (the Glasgow underground) to the post-office where he would fire up the broilers to heat the building. I knew how to run that equipment when I was three. My granda also shared every cup of tea or bottle of ginger (soda pop) with me, leaving the bottom 1/2 inch or so for me. All of my relatives knew that the bottom portion was exclusively mine to enjoy. My granda is the only real male influence I had in my life. I miss him terribly.
  6. My mala. This is a bead necklace I made in order to help me focus my thoughts during meditation. It’s very simple in design but it’s one of the few things I made just for me. I found making it to be a very mindful exercise. The first mala I made was gifted to my mum.
  7. A spiral notebook. My mind was broken back in September 2014. I relied on spiral notebooks to keep me on track. In them I recorded all of the minutiae of daily life. They kept me moving forward. I still use them today.
  8. The CD from The Mindful Way Through Depression. I followed up on the word G. G. used and found a book that showed me how mindfulness could help me. The book itself is filled with highlighted passages that still influence me today. The CD contains guided meditations from Jon Kabat-Zinn, the guru on using mindfulness to treat mental health issues. I also have the mp3s from the CD on my smartphone.
  9. A scroll and brown paper bag. The scroll describes a simple form of wellness kit while the paper bag contains all of the items referenced on the scroll. It was given to us in group to provide a starter kit for those who were unable or unwilling to create their own toolbox. Both are reminders of the growth I’ve experienced while in group.
  10. The business card of K. S. She was the first person I met at the CMHA. She treated me with a level of compassion that I was unable to give to myself. She showed me, through her act of compassion, that I was worthy.
  11. A scroll of a piece of “scribble” art. I love the colours on this. It’s a very simple scribble filled with colour, but if you look closely, you’ll find a golden helmeted warrior. That was unplanned. It’s just a trick created by the colouring.
  12. My smartphone. On it I have a selection of mindfulness apps and meditations that are with me every day. If I feel distress building, I can fire up these tools and break the cycle of distress.
  13. My journals. In addition to the spiral notebooks, I have a number of exercise books that are filed with my writing. They include my explorations of gratitude, my lists of successes, and the results of my research. They include my growth and my aspirations.
  14. My blogs, tweets and shared story pieces. I maintain two blogs, “The 3 of ME” and “jots and thoughts”. The former is an exploration of where I once was, and my journey from there to here. The latter acts as an electronic Gratitude Journal and inspirational quote source. Together, the blogs remind me of the danger of being silent and the healing power of sharing. Twitter, Facebook and guest writing for other sites all enable me to share my story. My hope is that someone might read my ramblings and be given the ray of hope I found in my moment of silence.
  15. My colouring books. I love to colour. I find the practice to be quite mindful. The colours reflect my mood but also help to change it. Colouring, like writing, allows me to explore my creative side, something I lost during too many years of blackness.

My wellness toolbox is evolving. At present it’s housed in an, ironically, black tin but I plan to move it to a cardboard or wooden box covered with my “scribble” art. I’ll also find more memories to add to it.

The wellness toolbox is simple in concept but massive in function. It’s available to me, both at home or while I’m mobile, to help me break an episode of distress before it devolves into a destructive downward spiral. I can pick up a photo, or click on an app, and take my mind to a safer place before any damage occurs. Better yet, in creating it, I was able to recount a host of memories I thought lost to me. That, on its own, is worth the effort in creating it.

I thank you for allowing me to share this with you. I hope that you will find it inspirational and use it to create your own wellness toolkit. Please, share your results with me. I’d love to see and read about them.

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