January 26th – a day when people feel comfortable sharing their stories. For myself, I find it easier to share today because it’s the current topic of conversation; I’m not worried people will read into my open dialogue as anything other than trying to start a conversation.
Last year was the first time I openly shared anything about my own mental health struggles on social media – a step that left my heart pounding and anxiety running high all day. This was despite the resounding support I received from my friends and loved ones; it also came at one of the most difficult times in my life, where I had felt most alone and most like a failure. At this time last year, I had finally received diagnoses of depression/anxiety and ADHD as well as began the correlating medication to help treat the same.
I have spent most of my life being at the top of my class, with minimal to no effort – and a confidence that went in hand with my innate ability to excel in most aspects of my life. That is not to say I did not have my struggles – I grew up in a rural community outside of Kamloops, BC, in a time that was not yet as accepting of Indigenous peoples. As a member of the Secwepemc people, I was often called upon throughout my time in the education system to share parts of my heritage that I hardly understood myself – the trauma of having gone to residential school very much still existing in my grandma, her siblings, our Chiefs and Elders, as well as the succeeding generations. At first I did so with excitement, but this continued to decrease over my academic career, as I was often ostracized and criticized for my knowledge of my past, and the excitement that had once accompanied sharing such knowledge. As a defence mechanism I began to separate myself from my culture, and solely rely on my abilities to succeed academically, as well as athletically. That, coupled with relating easily to the adults around me, I found it increasingly difficult to find common ground to relate to my peers on.
In hindsight, the ways I felt and coped growing up are highly indicative of an ADHD diagnosis in females such as – being inattentive, disruptive, over talking, anxiety, and my reactions to social situations were considered the ‘norm’ for females; further my childhood was at a point in time where mental health concerns were considered taboo. As a child dealing with the divorce of my parents, and the ensuing changes associated, my mom set me up with what we called our “talking doctor” – likely to make me comfortable with the idea of receiving professional help dealing with the multitude of feelings I had surrounding moving away from our family farm and back to Kamloops. While that helped, I surely would have benefitted from continuing to see her, or medication to help the conditions already dictating my life trajectory.
Growing up, I often was complimented for my ability to excel at a young age – one of my earliest memories is sitting on my Papa’s lap, reading him the paper over coffee at age 5. I remember making my adult family members chuckle with my quick wit – often followed by a head shake and getting assigned a new task ‘to keep me out of trouble’. My most frequent comment on my report cards growing up was “Distracts herself and others easily”, or regarding subjects that provided no interest there were often comments regarding “how adept she would be if she only applied herself”. Comments I took to heart, internalizing my struggles – for none of my peers seemed to struggle in the same ways.
Growing up, I was kept incredibly busy. In elementary school, I often competed in speech competitions, as well as whatever sport happened to be in season. Over the years hobbies passed the way seasons do, with new friends to accompany them, but sports remained a constant – an unknowing outlet that allowed me to burn enough energy and gain enough dopamine to focus on the academic component that allowed me to participate in school sports. This was often the sole driver that enabled me to complete assignments and show up for classes that I found otherwise incredibly dry and unengaging. Unfortunately, this did not translate into my early years of university. My first academic adversity had been Grade 12 Chemistry – a class I admittedly skipped at every opportunity. In hindsight, I realize the struggle and ensuing decrease in the feel good hormones already had me engaging in avoidance techniques. At this point in my life, I had already equated being a pleasant, smart, athletic young woman as what seemed to allow me to be treated as an equal – something that I noted many of my indigenous peers were still not being offered.
After high school, once I was no longer involved in playing sports, I began to shadow my friends’ mom and our high school football and Junior B hockey team as an assistant trainer. From there, I began to work with our CJFL team, and then was asked to help our Junior B lacrosse team – something that I found incredibly engaging, and a world where I felt I was both appreciated and welcomed for who I was – something I felt incredibly grateful for, as female medical staff being present on the bench had only recently become a more emergent opportunity. My first experience assisting with sideline injuries produced an adrenaline high like nothing that I had ever felt – and as I became more comfortable in my knowledge and hands on skills (thanks to many incredible mentors and organizations), I also noticed that these were the moments where I found the most mental clarity. In these scenarios, I was so intent on addressing what was in front of me that the continuous internal dialogue running in the back of my mind seemingly disappeared.
During my undergraduate degrees, my friends often commented on how they could not even imagine being as busy as I was. Inadvertently I found that staying so busy I hardly had time to eat, and sleep was the best way to force me to be accountable – a behavior I subconsciously developed and perfected over my university career. I kept myself in survival mode for years – doing my best to prove to myself and everyone else that one day I would be a Physiotherapist (Resident). I went over and above to prove to everyone that even though I took up an equity seat (seats reserved for indigenous students), that I too earned my way there and deserved the opportunity – something that had been iterated to me by some of my academic peers that they felt was unfair. In 2018, I began my Masters of Physical Therapy at the University of Saskatchewan. This was the furthest east I had been from my mom and her family since moving back to BC; but it did bring me closer to my brother and dads family.
During the program, I made an amazing set of friends and have a fantastic support system in Saskatchewan. And then I began to struggle, and the avoidance behavior of becoming disinterested in areas where I did not have innate skill resurfaced. This was easily my biggest downfall of physio school. Finally, after lockdown in March 2020, my mental health became an issue I could no longer ignore. I started on antidepressants, which made a significant difference; I once more had motivation to study, and exercise – both of which also contributed to improving my mood.
Although I began to feel more like myself after stating anti-depressants, I found that while preparing for my national exam to become a physiotherapist, I found I could not focus, no matter how hard I tried, nor how much I wanted to. As such, I then began the process for becoming diagnosed and treated for ADHD, and starting medication for the same made even more of a difference in my life. I was able to focus, and once again find interest in the material I found challenging rather than dismay and anxiety. I was able to relate my knowledge to practical skills and function – a major piece I had been struggling with.
In May of 2021, I began to practice as an MPT Resident at STRIDE. I have been welcomed into the clinic and community of Swift Current with open arms, and in the limited amount of time I have been practicing, I have found myself able to relate some of my experiences to those who are beginning their own mental health journey. While I have made significant progress in my mental health journey, I am still learning what it is that I need to be at my best. Currently, I speak with a counsellor, I take medication, and I practice daily self-care in exercise and use a vast amount of different coping mechanisms such as: deep breathing, grounding, progressive relaxation, journaling, and reaching out to friends and family. I am open to sharing more about my personal experience with anyone who is interested, but more importantly, I want to ensure that I make my treatment room a safe space; one where my clients feel welcomed and free of judgment.
-Taryn, PT
Resources for those who may need some:
Swift Current Canadian Mental Health Association (https://swiftcurrent.cmha.ca/)
Mental Health and Addiction Services (https://sk.211.ca/services/swift-current-community-health-services/mental-health-and-addiction-services/)
Saskatchewan Mental Health Services (https://www.saskatchewan.ca/residents/health/accessing-health-care-services/mental-health-and-addictions-support-services/mental-health-support/mental-health-services)
Fresh Start (http://www.freshstartsc.ca/counselling/)
SHA Mental Health (https://www.saskatoonhealthregion.ca/locations_services/Services/mhas)
Mental Health Search (https://www.ementalhealth.ca/Saskatchewan/Mental-Health-Facilities/index.php?m=heading&ID=229)