First Step Fighting Depression and Anxiety Seek Mental Health Help

Most people may need counseling especially these days due to the Covid-19 outbreak. Including me. One-third of the people suffering from brain injuries, like mine, develop major depression. Depression may be precipitated by genetics, circumstances, illnesses or unforeseeable and uncontrollable events. For example, the current world pandemic affects our mental health in ways we could never have imagined.

Anxiety, too, is at an all time high worldwide. We are scared of going to school and work and contracting Covid-19, or staying home for safety and falling behind. We fear our ability to pay mortgages, medical bills, rents. We worry about losing our homes, our businesses, our loved ones, about finding jobs or keeping jobs.

We are cracking up.

US cases of depression tripled from 8.5% before Covid to 27.8% now.
One in three people in the States are anxious or depressed.

Statistics in Switzerland, rated the top place in world to live for the quality of life, are alarming. Adults suffering from mental health issues before Covid were 3% and that number climbed to 18% in November 2020. Today, one out three people under the age of 24 suffer from depression or anxiety.

“The person who needs help is often times the last to realize it,” says my husband who encouraged me to get professional help after my accident and brain surgery.

If you know someone who is struggling encourage them to seek help or even better help them find it.

A good therapist can’t give you the magic solution, but they can help you find coping strategies and the right tools to move forward. They can help YOU create an action plan and locate resources — the right medications, support groups, community services or books to read to help you. They can motivate, cheerlead, validate your feelings, listen without judging, and help restore hope.

But the first step is admitting you need assistance. We never waver when we need to seek medical health for broken bones, cancer, or illness, but we balk when it comes to caring for our mental health. There is a stigma to admitting your brain is suffering, but like any of the organ can go haywire.

Would it encourage you to take action if you knew that nine people in my hard-working, high-functioning, “normal” family have at one time or other sought professional mental health care in the form of a psychiatric, psychologist or counselor? None of us are crazy.

The cause of mental illnesses are varied as the kinds. They can be caused by brain disease, genetics, chemical imbalances, injuries, PTSD, CBT (i.e.getting one’s bells rung one too many times on the football fields, hockey rings, soccer pitches.)

But due to Covid-19, no time in modern history have the levels of depression and anxiety been greater.

“The distress in the pandemic probably stems from people’s limited social interactions, tensions among families in lockdown together and fear of illness,” says psychiatrist Marcella Rietschel at the Central Institute for Mental Health in Mannheim, Germany.

The finding that women are more likely to experience psychological distress than men is consistent with other global studies that have shown that anxiety and depression are more common in women.
“The lower social status of women and less preferential access to healthcare compared to men could potentially be responsible for the exaggerated adverse psycho-social impact on women,” the researchers suggest.
Mental health professionals can help, but the work must be done by the individual.

Here is some steps that helped me:

  • Walk. Go outside. Be in nature.
  • Call a mom, daughter, sister, friend, another female.
  • Make a to do list. Set a goal. Start a project.
  • Declutter one shelf, one drawer, one cupboard.
  • Make that difficult decision to seek professional help, many provide services on line through Syke or on the phone.
  • Escape - watch Netflix. Read fiction. Look at old photographs.
  • Learn something new.
  • Share your story.

End the stigma. Stop suffering in silence.

Don’t Give Up

ISUOne moment I was living my dream as a professional basketball player in Europe, driving past my opponent with perfect body control releasing the ball so gently it kissed the backboard. The next instance, I was spinning weightlessly through air when our car flipped off a 100 foot embankment into France’s La Meuse River leaving me clawing against an icy current.

The impact of the crash, broke me in half - cracked my sternum, compressed vertebrae in my rib cage, concussed my brain, blocked my intestines and ended my career instantly.

I was only 26 years old. I thought life was over.

In the long days of therapy I slowly regained use of my limbs while living 4,000 miles away from home. I wanted to give up. I had no purpose.

In pain and despair, I hung on, an hour, a minute, a second at a time.Lechaults on the Wolf river

I never ran or played basketball again, but I persisted and went onto to lead a fulfilling life.

I married the Frenchman, who stood by me as I struggled to carve a new identity in a foreign land. Together we raised 2 bilingual, bi-cultural kids, who grew strong, trained hard and entered helping professions, one as a pediatrician, the other as a chiropractor.

Swiss AlpsEilan Doran Castle. ScotlandI lived near the Eiffel Tower in Paris and at the foothills of the Alps on Lake Geneva. I stood on Mt. Blanc and the Acropolis in Athens. I rode horses on the beach in the Camargue and floated down the canals of Venice. I walked in the shadows of my forefathers at Scotland’s McKinzie Castle and along the Norwegian fjords of my Olson ancestors above the Arctic Circle.

When I could no longer play basketball, I thought I would never adjust to sitting the bench, but found my calling as a coach. In three decades of coaching and teaching I had the privilege of working with sons and daughters of diplomats and world leaders from around the globe from whom I learned as much as I taught.

NCAAI wrote a book that led to an invitation to speak at the U.S. Senior National Games, an NCAA Final Four basketball banquet and commencement at the prestigious International School of Geneva, founder of international baccalaureate.

During my lowest point, I thought I had nothing left to give, but I never gave up. In retrospect, I see that I had a lot left to offer and even more to learn.

Nearly 4 decades later, after another life threatening accident last spring, I struggled again to tie my shoes, walk the fields, write a paragraph, repeating lessons learned years ago. I wonder why am I here? I grapple with finding a purpose to continue.

At age 63, I am too young to put out to pasture.

Each day I lift dumbbells, walk the block, play memory games coaxing my body and mind to grow stronger in preparation for the next calling.

Coaching in SwitzerlandIn the meantime, I keep fighting to go on, pulling up someone else, pushing another forward. After all my struggles, this much I know to be true. We are in the game together.

No one gets this far on their journey without the love of family and friends, the kindness of acquaintances and the helping hand of a fellow man.

In this endless season of sadness, during one of world’s deadliest pandemics, we want to throw in the towel and call it quits. Our bones ache from the cold, grey winter, our spirits break from living in isolation and mourning lost loved ones, our minds spin with anxiety facing future uncertainties. We are each struggling with something.

Let my crazy odyssey serve as an example of hope. Take it from the kid who thought her life ended in an accident at age 26 and is still standing today. Don’t give up yet.

Better things lie ahead.

Hope. Have faith. Hang on.

Put one foot forward.

The sun will rise again.

Sunrise on Summit Lake, Wisonsin

Inauguration Celebrating Best of American Story

Inauguration Celebrating Best of American Story

“Our history has been a constant struggle between the American ideal that we are all created equal and the harsh, ugly reality that racism, nativism, fear, and demonization have long torn us apart."

"The battle is perennial. Victory is never assured.Through the Civil War, the Great Depression, World Wars, 9/11, through struggle, sacrifice, and setbacks, our "better angels" have always prevailed.“

On Jan 20, President Biden’s inaugural speech offered hope signaling a new beginning in the American Story celebration. Just 2 weeks ago during one of the darkest days in our history, Trump denied election results and incited insurrection at our Capitol building to overthrow the government, threatening our 200 years old democracy, now we begin to heal and move forward.

After serving USA for 30 years as senator, 2 terms as VP alongside Obama, Biden took oath at age 78 to become our oldest President. His words, coherent and articulate, enflamed with passion and compassion, pleaded for unity and comprehension in a nation divided.

Kamala Harris, lost the democratic nomination but won the ticket as Biden’s VP and broke the glass ceiling by becoming the 1st female vice president, 1st African-American and 1st Asian-AmericanVP. She inspired young girls everywhere to dream.

And 22-year-old Amanda Gorman, the youngest ever national poet laureate, compensated for an auditory processing disorder and held nation spellbound with her lyrical words, as she recited “The Hill We Climb” to the world.

Oldest President, first ever African-Asian-American female VP and youngest poet laureate. Old, Young, Black, White. This is America. Land of opportunity. For all.

Gorman. who overcame a speech impediment, stood tall; her voice like a healing balm, rang steady in a soothing cadence and natural rhythm.

The Hill We Climb

“…Where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one
And yes we are far from polished
far from pristine
but that doesn't mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect
We are striving to forge a union with purpose"

…/… (link to the full speech video)

America boasts of sports icons, movie stars, media moguls, but our real champions are these folks who fought the odds and overcame terrific personal losses to keep fighting.

On a smaller scale, heroes exist within our own families. Like my maternal grandparents who came to America for a better life. When my Norwegian grandpa Gustav lost his job during the Great Depression, he walked to the Chicago Public Library everyday to read books because he always wanted to be educated but never had the opportunity.

Or my paternal grandparents who lost 2 sons. Instead of becoming bitter, they dedicated their lives as teachers and college coaches guiding other people’s sons into adulthood.

Or my parents who spent their careers as educators in the same community not seeking praise, but finding peace knowing the value in helping a child read better, stand taller, be braver.

Or me. Losing everything. Beginning again. Not once. But twice. Learning to grip, walk, talk, read and write. Never giving up in spite of great physical pain and emotional despair, looking outside of self to encourage another to get up and go on too. To continue my mission inspiring courage, breaking barriers, creating connections internationally.

That is our American story. Perseverance. Pioneer spirit. Resiliency. Courage. Tolerance. To rise up again. To rebuild Together. Hand in hand. As Biden concluded in his speech:

Here we stand, in the shadow of a Capitol dome that was completed amid the Civil War, when the Union itself hung in the balance.
Yet we endured and we prevailed.
…/…
And here we stand, just days after a riotous mob thought they could use violence to silence the will of the people, to stop the work of our democracy, and to drive us from this sacred ground.
That did not happen.
It will never happen.
…/…
And together, we shall write an American story of hope, not fear.
Of unity, not division.
Of light, not darkness.
An American story of decency and dignity.
…/…
May this be the story that guides us.
The story that inspires us.

Link to the full speech video

This is our America.

American Abroad Crying for My Country

On January 6th, I watched violent scenes unfold on Washington DC’s capitol hill on a dark episode in our history and I wept for my country.

Ironically at his “Make America Great Again” rally, Trump’s supporters were incited by his inflammatory speech as he ranted “Stolen election. A fraud. I will never leave office.” The mob stormed the Capitol, breached the police blockage, and ravaged the House and Senate while terrified US representatives donned gas masks and ducked behind chairs.

Fothe Capitol, Washington DCur years under the leadership of this madman ended in this deplorable moment in our history, leaving American citizens shocked, appalled, humiliated and terrified. It degraded our image and lowered our status among other countries.

Is the world’s oldest democracy, a beacon of hope, a bastion of freedom imploding in front of our eyes?

I weep for my country. My spirit is broken. My heart is shattered.

My personal history with Washington DC makes this event even more painful. As a child I used to boast to friends that my relatives - my grandma, uncles, aunts and cousins - lived in our nation’s capitol as if that afforded me special connections.

Washington Metros, WBAIn my twenties I called it home, when I was a player for the professional basketball team, the

Washington DC Metros, a precursor to the Washington Mystics and the WNBA.

Back then, I loved showing off “my city” to visitors, leading them on tours along the majestic National Mall past the Lincoln Memorial and Jefferson Memorial and Washington Monument.

Washington DCLong after I moved to Europe, DC remained imprinted in my heart - Fort Belvoir, a US Army base where we practiced, the DC Armory, the national guard training arena, where we played our games, and the Capitol Center where we toured. A kaleidoscope of memories collide warm family meals, heated basketball games, cozy jazz clubs in historic Georgetown, and landmarks of American history.

Growing up, the privilege of American citizenship has never been lost on me. I am the granddaughter of immigrants who sacrificed everything to build better lives on US soil.

Fast forward forty plus years where, as an expat in Switzerland, living in a safe neutral country, I stare at that news report as domestic terrorists, American white supremacists, scale the walls of the Capitol building and rampage after our US President ignites their insurrection by spewing lies, hatred and intolerance.

Though friends, having moved back to the States warned me about the dangerous division infiltrating my homeland, I never believed it could be that bad until I saw the events unreeling on Jan 6.

Yes we must impeach the President, imprison the perpetrators, condemn their actions, but then how do we move forward?

Where do we go from here? How do we reconcile? The world has witnessed with incredulity our values disintegrate on prime time.

How do we, as the oldest democracy, restore the pillars of our foundation — peace, liberty, equality for all — when the essence of what it means to be American has been desecrated?

Washington DCBefore an entire country can heal, we must begin with one person. Reach out. Get to know someone of another religion, race, culture, ethnicity and learn about their universe. What foods do they eat? What holidays do they celebrate? What language do they speak? What deities do they worship? What fears do they face of living in the USA? How can they be made to feel welcome here?

If your neighbors all look, think and act like you, read papers from another country with a neutral viewpoint from another perspective without the biased Democratic/Republican party division.

Not everyone was raised in an accepting family, or experienced firsthand cross cultural living and marriage, or teaching in an international school. I have been lucky to have met, worked with and learned about people from everywhere around the globe.

Tolerance may not be a birthright, but it can be a learned behavior.

It starts in our homes, spreads to neighborhoods, communities, crosses state lines and national borders.

Tolerance begins with the words we speak and actions we take.

Today.

Right now.

In our house.

In our America.

Illustration photos by Praneeth Koduru , Sandy Torchon, and Budgeron Bach from Pexels

Raise Your Glass to a Safer, Saner New Year

Everyone everywhere agrees that 2020 has been a bad year in so many ways, so don’t look back, focus on the future, bring it on 2021!

With one foot in 2 continents my heart always aches with longings, but when I said goodbye to one country to fly to the other, I endure the tug at my heartstrings by keeping my eyes looking forward.

When I arrive at a new destination, I leave my luggage at the door. No one reaches middle age without accumulating baggage — regrets, disappointments, resentment, misgivings, mistakes, misunderstandings, and misfortunes. Let it go.

The grass is not greener on the other side. Skies are not bluer. Life is not easier. All expats play this mental game thinking maybe things would be better if they lived in my their passport country, in the land where they grew up understanding the language, customs and culture by osmosis as a birthright. But no matter where in the world one resides storms prevail. Turbulence is an inherent part of the human existence

In the artificial world of FB, instagram and social media it looks like everyone is having a great time all the time - winning championships, getting married, traveling the world, having babies. In reality, low moments that we don’t post about, weigh heavy between those highs. We endure hardships blinking back tears with gritted teeth.

In this journey, no one gets a free ride. We each face our own lifetime of physical pain, emotional despair, spiritual crisis, devastating loss and unbearable deception.

At the end of the day we must choose peace. As my yoga teacher repeats on-line in her calming voice, “Stretch. Breathe. Accept. Allow. Release. Let go. Namastè.”

“We are all divine and we are all ultimately connected.”

Forgive. Absolve. Free.

Do not blame yourself. Women especially tend to be self critical. After all of my accidents, I berated myself.

If only I had stopped that seizure, broken that fall, ridden in a different car, taken another route at some other time.

If only I had been more careful, more cautious, more fearful. But noooo! I threw myself into the whirlwind of life chasing new experiences, traveling to unchartered territories, and competing in sports at the highest level with the most intensity.

If only I had protected my body back then would I be in less pain now? How do you save your body from life? The act of living is being fully engaged.

Forgiveness starts with the self, but ultimately must extend to others. Do not blame. Do not condemn. Do not judge. We all act in ways and say things, intentionally or not, that are hurtful. All feelings matter. To harbor ill will and hatred toward others leads to our own destruction by eating away at our thoughts and energy.

“ To learn to forgive is one of God’s greatest lessons,” says my mom, who has great faith and even greater wisdom. “ It liberates your soul.”

2020 has been a long, unbearable year. We are restless, ready to move on. We want to go where we want, when we want, with whoever we want. We long to travel freely. We patiently waited to gather in groups, to celebrate together, to see loved ones again. We ache with longing.

Take an extra dose of patience heading into the new year. Keep wearing a mask, maintain social distancing, get the Covid-19 vaccine as soon as it is available. Our individual rights to regain our freedom depends on respecting others rights to remain safe.

Believe brighter days lie ahead. Hold onto hope. Spread kindness. Share inspiration. Bring it on 2021. We await with open arms.

Ten Ways to Stay Uplifted and Connected This Christmas

Record highs in Covid-19 cases, hospitals across Europe overloaded, healthcare workers on their knees and hearts breaking from being torn apart from families during the holidays. Due to circumstances we should not travel, but must find unique ways to stay connected.

Virtual caroling: My daughter a doctor in Minneapolis area will be working over the holidays to help stem the tide, but she figured out a way to connect with her grandparents in Illinois. We are going caroling at their virtual doorstep. We practiced a list of Christmas songs on line; I played my guitar in Switzerland and she sang Silent Night, Drummer Boy, Winter Wonderland and other old favorites.

Phone calls have never been more comforting especially with WhatsApp era where we can see one another’s faces on the screen.

Christmas used to be like this

Read books like The Night Before Christmas, Polar Express and How The Grinch Stole Christmas together on Skype with grandchildren, who are quarantined thousands of miles apart from you.

Set up a zoom call where everyone gathers from their own living room. One friend’s family made the Sunday dinner Zoom call a weekly tradition to keep up on her kids in the Carolinas, Massachusetts and Minnesota. Or set up a family games night.

Write an old fashioned card with your own words or better yet a letter. When was the last time you received a real letter in the mail that could be read and reread and cherished forever?

Put up the Tannenbaum. Through the dreary dark days of winter, we wake up to the twinkle of the white lights on our tree.

Light a candle. Say the name out loud in honor of the memory of everyone you have lost this year. Give a word of thanks for each friend and loved one who remains a part of your life even though you may be separated by distance.

Bake cookies – sugar cookies, gingerbread, spritz. Fill the house with the aroma of warm frosting and melting butter.

Hang outdoor decorations. European villages have always put twinkling lights in the chateaus, town halls and corner cafe windows. This year even individual home owners are stringing outdoor lights in neighborhoods to bring joy during this time of darkness where people are confined to homes.

Hold a baby. My niece and nephew-in-law took Covid tests in order to travel safely from their home in Wisconsin to Illinois to introduce their new baby, Hadley Marie, to her great grandparents. My 86-year-old mom, who recently lost her brother to Covid-19, became teary eyed holding her first great grandchild in the circle of life.

In a year where it is especially difficult to feel gratitude, appreciating the giving spirit of the holidays and understanding the value of kind words, thoughtful gestures and strong connections year round has never been more important.

Like so many others, the pain of being apart at this season is especially acute, but it also reminds me of how lucky I am to be loved and to love so much that it hurts.

In the meantime, I focus on the memories of favorite foods, surprise gifts and special traditions from previous get together and practice my singing fa la la la la la la la until we can be reunited again.

Christmas 2018