Intelligence Among Us

When the foundation of your life is crumbling around you it can be difficult to know where to turn for help. It’s also difficult to define what help means and it tends to manifest itself in different ways. The winter of 2006 was a difficult time for my family. Cindy had been finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder, moved to Chatham 3 hours away, spent time in and was kicked out of rehab. Eventually she came home where the noose of depression tightened around her neck to the point where she was committed for 8 weeks and received electro-shock therapy which essentially erased her short term memory. In retrospect this was probably a blessing.

The point of this post is not to rehash the past but rather to provide some historical context to something we are doing with the girls this month.

I honestly don’t remember how I stumbled onto the Canadian Mental Health Clinic in Orangeville during those dark days. There was such a bewildering patch work of agencies that did nothing that its a blur. It may have been as simple as me driving by and seeing the sign in the window. Regardless, when I slumped into the couch in the waiting room and starting pouring my heart out to the people working there I knew these were people that could and wanted to help. They certainly couldn’t change the situation but what they could do was listen to me, tell me what I can expect, empathize and help me see the forest through the trees. For that I am truly grateful.

Chloe and Melody have been wanting to hold a lemonade stand for a while now so we decided that we’ll hold one and half the proceeds will go to charity. Naturally the girls asked me what “charity” was. I explained that it means helping other people – for example other kids whose mom or dad died. Melody was instantly thrilled with the idea of sharing and helping others. Chloe tilted her head, looked at me like I had 2 heads, and said, “Why would I want to do that??” I’m not going to lie to you – the bloodthirsty capitalist in me certainly understood where she was coming from After some thought I decided to donate all the money to charity and give the girls 10 bucks each for the hard work they will do leading up to and during the event. Sometimes buying your kids off is the right thing to do but I doubt you will find that in a Barbara Coloroso book.

I’ve decided to donate all the money to the Canadian Mental Health Association and specifically the Orangeville branch in Cindy’s memory. I’ve contacted the OPP and they will be sending an officer over. I’ve also contacted the local papers and they will be doing a story on the event and sending a reporter over to cover the festivities.

When Chloe and Melody smile, laugh and are kind to other kids Cindy’s life and legacy live on. If we can, in some small way, help another family smile again, I will know that I have done something to ensure that she is not forgotten.

To my family, friends and co-workers that have helped and continue to help me – thank you.

Yesterday morning was hard for Chloe.  She couldn’t sleep the night before so she was tired in the morning.  She got upset about not being able to find an outfit she wanted to wear.  On the way to day care she started to cry and talked about how much she missed Mommy.  Mel was totally fine.  When we got to the day care we sat on the grass and talked about Cindy and why Chloe was missing her so much at that time.  I said that I’m sure she was looking down from heaven and could see them and Chloe said, “Why would I look up at the sky?  If she is there why can’t I see her?”  Good question and I had no idea how to answer it.

We talked for a few more minutes and then went in.  When Brenda, the wonderful woman at the day care, saw Chloe she scooped her up onto her lap and comforted her in such an incredibly compassionate way. Chloe melted into her arms and told her why she was feeling sad. It brought me a lot of comfort to see my little girl being taken care of like that. It also reinforced to me that it doesn’t matter where love and caring come from. All that matters is that the more of it they have in their lives the better. Thank you Brenda.

There is a 10 year old named Megan at the day care who is such an amazing kid. Shortly after Cindy’s death she spent her own money to buy the girls the most beautiful little stuffed animals. Yesterday when she saw Chloe was upset she did both the girls’ hair in beautiful braids. It was nice but it also made me wonder how I can be such a tool when it comes to braids and a 10 year old can be such a whiz. Her parents should be so proud and the girls look up to her so much.

After Cindy’s death, Tanja printed and framed a really nice picture of Cindy and the girl’s from the first day of school last year.  We put them on their night tables and I know its brought them comfort.  Last night Melody came out of her room crying and said that the picture of Mommy was making her upset.  I went up and we talked and she said that she just felt so sad when she looked at the picture because mommy is dead and she’ll never get to see her again.   Despite the fact that this kind of sadness has been mercifully rare so far, the tears seem to come at night.

We decided that maybe it would be a good idea to take the picture down for a little while and put it somewhere safe.  Knowing that she could take it out whenever she wanted to seemed to make her feel better.  I think she felt a small sense of control over the situation.

I told her how upset I felt the other day at the cemetary and that I cried afterwards and reiterated to her that there is no right or wrong time to feel sad and that we just need to make sure to always talk about things.    She seemed to feel better.  A lot of these little steps will make up this journey.   They are such good kids.

We were in Chatham this weekend visiting friends and on the way home we stopped to visit Cindy’s grave for the first time since the funeral.   It was a holiday Monday and very hot.  I felt a lot of trepidation walking up to her final resting place.  The girls were fine and in good spirits.

Looking at the headstone I noticed that Chloe’s name was spelled incorrectly which I found quite upsetting.  It seemed like some kind of symbolic final metaphorical insult on a troubled life.  I need to find out how to get it fixed.   I think the heat of the day and the emptiness of the cemetary contributed to my reaction as well.

Melody left a picture and a piece of wood she had from the weekened.  Chloe actually found it funny that her name was spelled wrong.  We stayed for 10 minutes.  As we pulled away Mel yelled, “Good-bye Mommy!  I love you!”   I started to cry as we left and needed to get out of the car for a few minutes.  Tanja was wonderful as she always is.

The finality of  it all was somewhat overwhelming and it causes me to retrace the convoluted and complicated events that led here over and over.  Life moves on and we’ll be fine but I imagine these visits will always be hard.  I think that’s OK.

Over the year and a between the time of our separation and Cindy’s death I didn’t have much of an opportunity to get a sense for how she was doing at work although I assumed based on how she typically acted things were not going that well.  Sometime at the beginning of the year she was involved in a car accident.  She told me afterwards that she had had a panic attack while driving her cruiser and crashed her car.

At her funeral I had the opportunity to speak with some of her co-workers and got some insight into just how much difficulty she was having and it was very concerning both as someone that cared about Cindy and a citizen.  I heard about how she was having breakdowns at work,  behaving erractically and one co-worker believed that the car accident I mentioned was actually as a result of her attempting to commit suicide.  

I thought about this a lot afterwards and felt like based on my experience I might be able to provide some insight to the OPP in order to help them help their people.  As a citizen I feel like I need to do what I can to mitigate the risk of a mentally ill person from managing to slip through the cracks as a front-line police officer.  So I wrote a letter to Julian Fantino, the Commissioner of the OPP to express my thoughts.  A few weeks later I received a letter from the Deputy Commissioner of the OPP telling me that the officer in charge of their EAP and critical care program would like to meet with me.

She came to my home earlier this week and we had a great talk about Cindy and what can be done going forward.  She was really open and communicative and obviously is passionately committed to what she is doing.  We talked a lot about the stigma of mental illness, the culture of policing, privacy concerns etc.  I feel that a major contributing factor to the lack of understanding about mental illness is that’s a very abstract concept for people that have never experienced it.  How could you possibly understand suicidal depression or mania that lasts months and the repercussions unless you have lived it first hand?  

I told her that I would be more than happy to speak to groups of police officers about Cindy and my experiences with mental illness because I ‘m sure I could be effective at telling the story in a context that is relevant to police and help them better understand what it all means.  She seemed very interested in the idea and I will do my best to make sure it happens.  I feel a strong need to help others as a result of this experience and in a way I feel like it’s honouring Cindy’s legacy.

Here is the letter:

Commissioner Fantino,

My name is Jason MacKenzie and I am the ex-husband of Cindy MacKenzie, an OPP Constable of nearly 12 years, who recently took her own life after a long, painful and ultimately unsuccessful battle with Bipolar Disorder. 
 
I have great concerns with the manner in which the OPP dealt with her over the years and continued to allow her to serve as a front-line police officer despite her mental illness.  My intention is in no way to apportion blame but is rather to hopefully provide some insight to help you serve both your own officers and the public more effectively in the future.
 
She was on short-term disability for approxiately half of the last 5 years and struggled mightily while at work.  There were times she worked as a desk officer and times she was on the road.  During her return after her first stint on disability in 2006 she was only kept in the office for 2-3 days before returning to the road.  She recently, I believe in December of 2009, was involved in a traffic accident while  on the road in her cruiser.  She told me afterwards that she experienced a panic attack which led to the crash.  I’m not certain whether she was forthright with her supervisor as to the exact cause of the incident.  I’m certain the Traffic Report would detail that clearly.
 
Each time she returned to work she had a supporting letter from her doctor.  I can understand that this could be seen as sufficient but it clearly was not.  There was a period in 2006 where she was seriously considering driving her cruiser into an oncoming transport truck because she was suffering so profoundly.  When she told me this I took her to her psychiatrist and she was institutionalized for a period of time.
 
I know that some of her fellow officers were aware of the difficulty she was experiencing at work and in fact at her funeral this was mentioned to me a few times.  It would be  difficult for someone to report a colleague and to be honest I’m not sure that I possess the strength of character to have done it had I been in the situation either.  Regardless, her safety, that of her fellow officers and the public makes it imperative that there is more proactivity when dealing with people in this situation.  This might include regular and ongoing interviews with her co-workers and more importantly implementing the organizational and cultural changes that would allow these officers to feel more comfortable coming forward.
 
I also understand the need for privacy both from a legislative and human perspective but talking to her friends over the past week as yielded a lot of information indicating the level to which she was struggling.
 
The pieces of the puzzle were all there, albeit scattered and difficult to assemble.  But families, supervisors, colleagues and the OPP as an organization need to work together more closely to achieve better outcomes going forward.
 
On a more positive note, many officers attended her funeral last week and it brought much comfort to Cindy’s family and friends.  The return salute my 5 year old daughter received made her happy.
 
Thank you and best regards,

I’ve decided to change the focus of my blog from IT related topics to something much more personal.   My ex-wife recently committed suicide after a long struggle with bipolar disorder.   I want this blog to reflect my (and her) story and that of my girls.  I’m not sure what exactly I hope to accomplish.  I suppose it’s to put words to mental illness from the perspective of a man and father of two girls.   I don’t want to dwell on the negative but I want to articulate how to try to find the positives in situations that feel completely out of control.  My intention is for this to be both a recap of past events as well as the challenges that come with dealing with the present and looking forward.  My life is great and will continue to be.  For that I am thankful.

March 26, 2010 “Jason.  Jason!!!  Are you home?”  I woke up from a deep sleep to the sounds of someone calling my name clearly coming from inside my home.  I stumbled downstairs to see a uniformed police officer that I knew and asked him what the hell he was doing in my landing.  He asked me where my kids, who were sleeping soundly upstairs, were.  Disoriented, I told him they were with my ex-wife.  His look of true concern shook the cobwebs off and I corrected myself and told him they were upstairs.  He told me to sit down and that he had bad news.  “Brother, I have some bad news.  Cindy’s dead.”  And with that everything changed forever.

I think my experience can help others that are going through what I went through.  That’s it.  That’s the reason I have decided to put my experiences to paper (or in binary ).  Then again, I suppose it’s also a cathartic exercise to help me make sense of the last 5 or 6 years and get some perspective on the future.  It’s also important to me to give a voice to the suffering I have witnessed so that others can understand what the implications of mental illness can be.

How can a relationship that for the first 13 years was so joyous and unbelievable so totally destruct at the hands of bipolar disorder in a matter of months? How does a vibrant, strong and kind woman claw herself up from a horrific upbringing, build a wonderful life and then have it end in suicide?  How do raise our children and move on while honoring her memory?

I’ve thought about tailoring this story and perspective to dads.  I’ve also thought about focusing on mental illness, my own frailties, kids and everythinlg else under the sun.  In the end I decided to just tell my story as honestly as I can and let the reader decide if it’s of benefit to them.

I want to share honestly the things I have done during this time that I am incredibly proud of as well as the things I’m not.  Your character and mettle are not tested during the good times.  The rigidity of your spine is tested during the hard times.   When my simplistic view of how life and people should be was shattered I realized that as long I could look myself in the mirror and feel like I had a lot more to be proud of then what I was ashamed then I would be ok.  That doesn’t make dealing with the shame or regrets much easier.

I have raised good kids during times of chaos, protecting them and loving them the best way I can.  And you know what?  It’s not that hard.  Sitting them down and telling them their mother is dead…that’s hard.  There are some simple, fundamental principles I adhere to always with my kids that have nothing to do with dealing with a mentally ill mom.  They are universal and you certainly don’t need a self-help book to explain them.  They’re common sense if you have the wherewithal to compartmentalize your own drama and put them first.

I want to tell the good parts of this story because it helps provide some context into the later stages but also shows why, for some time, I couldn’t see the forest through the trees.  When my family was crumbling around me and my perfect financial future was disintegrating I was so busy trying to get through each day I almost couldn’t see how bad things really were.  I’m an extremely rational person and logically I must have known how bad things were getting but there were so many other day to day issues to deal with I just couldn’t put it together.

I also want to share the frustrations of dealing with government agencies, psychiatrists, the police – both as an employer and a law enforcement agency, support lines and on and on and on.  I found myself screaming at people on the phone that my wife was slowly killing herself and no one would do a goddamned thing to intervene.  How about a psychiatrist having your wife on some many medications that she was living like a fucking zombie?  All those years of medical school for what? To be a pill pusher?  Can you imagine a child protection agency telling you that there was no imminent danger to your children 48 hours before their mother committed suicide?  Can you imagine being at the funeral having co-workers tell you how unstable she really was?  I’m not going to go on a rant and blame everyone because everyone did the best they could.

This is as much a love story as it is a story of mental illness and I think the dichotomy will be familiar to those who have experienced it and enlightening to those that haven’t.   It’s almost impossible to imagine the devastation  mental illness can cause unless you have experienced it or witnessed it firsthand.   Our perspectives are shaped by our experiences.  That’s human nature.  I know my world view has irrevocably changed, for the better, due to what I have seen and lived.  That’s my choice.

I want to also focus on the present and future. Meeting someone wonderful, incorporating them into you and your childrens’ lives, planning for the future etc.

If this helps anyone then it’s more than worth it.  In fact, if it helps me it’s more than worth it.

I’m not sure why I find it so difficult to keep this up to date on a timely bases.

July 20 – Run 7k
July 21 – 15 minutes of interval training on the treadmill.  Started to feel a tightness in my right quad so I stopped.
July 22 – pushups 42, 30, 25

July 24 – 20 minutes of Hammer strength preacher curls with 2 45 lb plates for sets of 7.  20 minutes of dumbbell curls with the 45 lb dumbbells for sets of 7

July 26 – 100 pushups in 5 minutes.  This was mainly to assuage the guilt of not working out very hard last week.

July 27th – Work up at 4 am and did 100 pushups at about 4:30.  Went to the gym for 6:45 am. Workout consisted of: 

Hammer Strength dips: 4X45lb plates for sets of 8-9 reps
Overhead extensions for 10 minutes
100 pushups – these really sucked as my triceps were already pretty cooked.
I’m going for a 7k run at lunch.  I’ve really got to start running further in order to get ready for the half marathon in September.  Just not today

As you may know I have 2 young girls.  5.5 years old and 4.  As a parent sharing custody of my kids I wanted to share what I have learned about being a dad to girls.

1. Never, under any circumstances, say a bad word about their mom in front of them.
2. Learn to do ponytails and braids (the braids things is a work in progress for me).
3. Let them paint your fingernails and paint theirs.  When they come and ask you to paint their nails as you’re leaving for work – take the 5 minutes and do it.  They’ll remember.
4. Play dress up
5. Be silly
6. If they are upset or tired and want their mommy, don’t ever take it personally.  It doesn’t mean they don’t want you.  They want both of you.
7. Don’t get upset and threaten them with things you will never follow through on.   Outline realistic consequences and stick to them.
8. When they do something wrong,  get down to their level and look them in the eyes when you are explaining why it was wrong
9. Mean what you say.
10. Be consistent and fair – this can be tough sometimes.
11. Don’t make a big deal if they want to wear ridiculous looking clothes to school.  It lets them express themselves and what difference does it really make in the big picture?
12. Praise them always when they try their best.
13. Explain to them that if they can’t do something as well as they want getting upset about it won’t help.  Practicing will.  Some people are better than others at things but the only way they can be the best they can be is too work hard.
14. If it’s not about something dangerous I don’t want to hear tattling.   Explaining to a 5 year old that she needs to influence her sister and create a win-win is a tough sell but it will make sense to them one day.
15. Build forts in the living room out of mattresses.
16. Encourage them to talk to you about anything and everything
17. If you don’t have a pool take them swimming at the community center
18. Tell them lots of stories where they are the superhero princesses and daddy is the goofball.
19. Dance with them a lot.
20. Take them to see their grandparents a lot.  It’s such an important relationship.
21. Let them sleep in your bed sometimes (only sometimes).  Despite the fact that they flop all over and drive you crazy.  Remember what it was like when you were a kid and got to do that.
22. Don’t yell at them.  If you do get upset and yell or overreact…cool down and acknowledge that you make mistakes too.
23. Be affectionate and tell them that you love them lots every day.

July 15

20 minutes of Hammer Strength dips with 4 45 pound plates for sets of 8.

20 minutes of overhead tricep extensions

5 sets of pushups

July 16

Today will be 30 minutes of biceps and then a 1 hour spin class.  I will post later about the specifics.

Overall I have been eating much cleaner this week and am down a few pounds.  I’m currently sitting at 180 pounds.  I’m not sure what my ideal weight is with the amount of muscle that I currently have but I’m thinking closer to 170 would be better.  I haven’t actually been below 175 in years so we’ll see how things go.  I don’t want to work towards a specific number.  I want to be as fit, strong and healthy as possible and not look like a slob.

Well I’m slacking off again.

July 11 – 584 pushups in 45minutes.  I use the perfect pushup handles.  This was an improvement of 30 over the last time.  I did 50 sets total.  And for all the haters out there these are full pushups

July 12 – saw a picture of myself at the beach and realized I am a fat slob.  While it was disappointing it was necessary.

July 13 – Ran 7k.  I didn’t time myself but the pace feels really good.

July 14 – 1 hour spin class at the gym.  Weights tomorrow.