Ron Ellis started out as a professional hockey player to speaker, now speaks about his personal experience with depression.
Ron Ellis is remembered for his career with the Toronto Maple Leafs and member of the Team Canada hockey team.
During his 15 years as a professional player, he assisted in bringing the Stanley Cup home for the Leafs in 1967 and won against the Russians with Team Canada in the World Hockey Summit Series in 1972. Continue reading
I don’t like to use my blog for rants, but I am angry. And if I’m being compassionate with myself, then my anger is just as valid as any other feeling. So I’m going to give myself permission to write about my anger.
I was telling a friend recently about the presentation I gave at work on self-compassion, and he responded with hostility and disdain. I was not prepared for the attack. I understand that some people prefer the “suck it up” approach to pain and suffering, but why would it make him angry that I teach people how to be kind to themselves instead?
This was written by someone very close to me who lives with mental illness. I see what it’s like for them to develop anxiety and panic just because they have to go out the door or when it comes time to write an email. I see first hand how isolating mental illness can be, by family and friends and themselves…like they say, it’s lost freedom.
People need to know living with mental illness IS NOT a choice.
Written by Fliss Baker
Twitter is a wonderful thing! I’m four thousand miles away and I’m meeting the like-minded. For info I’m a writer, author, volunteer and guest speaker in mental health and I love it.
Oh, and I have a diagnosis of bipolar.
I receive ongoing professional treatment in an attempt to manage my depressive and manic cycles. I am also in recovery for an eating disorder.
It’s important I introduce myself before my illness because as much as it rules my life at times, I will not let it define me.
I honestly do not know where to start. I am devastated. I was having a hard time deciding what my next post would be about, and then he was gone… As I wrestle and fight to come to terms with this emotional tornado, I stand my ground as the high winds smack the cold tears running down my face. I scream into the unforgiving truth and it just continues to spin more violently out of control. Inside I am dying, but my adrenaline forces me to fight. My muscles burn hot like 1,000 volcanoes and my clenched fists swing illogically at the twisted cold truth. I hit nothing. The tornado runs me over and back again. I jump up when I can, and continue to scream and swing. If it had a mouth it would laugh at me as it pushed me further down into the dirt. The tornado has grown tired of me, and moves on to destroy bigger and better people… just because it can. I lay with my face in the muck, and as I lift my head, I see the vultures and parasites coming right at me. If this was Hollywood, they would already be drawing a chalk outline around my body. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since I heard the news and the ignorant vultures are coming for his legacy and my sanity. Usually, they are innocuous goons in their highly coveted prime time slots, but now they smell the fear and sadness like a shark smells blood in the water and they become apex predators in their own minds. Even though they can’t maintain the momentum for very long, it is an opportunistic feeding on the weak that their ignorance and general hatred fuels because the time is right.
Written by Kelly Risbey
I’ve battled anxiety and depression on and off for almost 20 years. My anxiety started getting bad in high school and I started having panic attacks in my second year of university. This led to my panic disorder diagnosis and my first major battle with anxiety.
Trying to manage school, maintain a good GPA, cope with panic attacks that happened during class, deal with endless anxiety issues, find support, and learn how to battle my panic disorder was exhausting, frustrating, terrifying. All I wanted was my life back. I wanted to go to class, take notes, listen to the lecture, talk to my friends, do homework, have fun, and relax: normal university stuff. It was a long, hard road, but with incredible support, I learned to battle this disorder, I reclaimed my life, and I graduated.
Interview by Samina Raza
December 28, 2014
I had the great pleasure of interviewing Clint Malarchuk, NHL goalie, NHL coach, cowboy, horse dentist and now author of his first book “A Matter of Inches”, the title refers to the bullet in his head, as well as the skate that was actually a few millimeters from his carotid artery! This man is indestructible, thank goodness, knock on wood!
He suffered from OCD, horrible anxiety, depression, alcohol abuse, and finally PTSD because of a horrific hockey injury to his neck. Even dealing with all those mental illnesses, he became a great goalie, playing for, among others, the Buffalo Sabres. And then an NHL coach. While battling his demons and alcohol addiction, he put a bullet in his head and survived with no side effects! His book is a tour de force of honesty, truth and a no holds barred description of his life, good or bad, he put it all to paper. The book is a must read.
Written by David Sandum
People often ask me, “Have you always known you wanted to be an artist?” The fast answer is no. It wasn’t until many years after my first exhibit that I made a conscious decision to become one.
I had originally planned to become a business consultant. During my senior year of college, however, my life started veering off course. I had trouble sleeping, cried for no reason, thought I would fail everything, and went to the emergency room twice, terrified I was having a heart attack because my chest hurt so badly. The doctors would tell me nothing was wrong, but I was convinced I was dying.
Written by: Caroline CriadoPerez
Journalist & Feminist Activist
This is a blog I’ve been meaning to write for a while. I’ve held back mainly out of fear. I know that by writing this for public consumption, I’m giving more ammunition to those who seek to discredit me and dismiss everything I say as the irrational ramblings of an unbalanced hysteric. I also know that when they use this post to undermine my words, it will hurt me. But I feel like it’s my duty to write this, because there might be other people out there who have been struggling like I have, and don’t realise they don’t have to live this way. And also, I feel stronger now. I feel like maybe I will be able to cope with the inevitable jibes.
By AIMEE LEE BALL
To the casual observer, Danielle Hark was living an enviable life, with a devoted husband, a new baby and work she enjoyed as a freelance photo editor. But she was so immobilized by depression that she could barely get out of bed. Her emotional state could not be explained in postpartum terms — she had suffered from debilitating depression for most of her life, and ultimately received a diagnosis of bipolar disorder when her daughter was a year old.
“I thought about killing myself for the first time in seventh grade,” said Ms. Hark, now 33. “I went from therapist to therapist and medication to medication, not comfortable with anyone or any drugs.”