My name is Caitlin. Even though I've written bios of myself in places ranging from academic conferences to online dating, I still think it's impossible to summarize myself (or anyone!) in words on a page. That being said, I'm a mother, daughter, sister, educator, researcher, and a lifelong learner. I love mountain hikes and wandering by the sea. I never met a used bookstore I didn't like. I eat too much ice cream. I analyze situations and conversations to death, but still feel deeply in my gut and my heart. Laughter is like therapy for me.
Another part of my identity is mental illness. It's something that I rarely disclose to others - or if I do, it's often in glossed-over language to make everyone more comfortable. In spite of societal shifts focused on creating more open dialogue about mental illness, there remains a stigma. We like to talk about things like “health and wellness”, stress, or perhaps less-scary diagnoses like depression - because who hasn't been depressed at some point? Really delving into frank conversations about what life is like with mental illness can be daunting. Sharing makes us vulnerable, and not everyone treats this vulnerability with respect and compassion. I have learned over the years (and through unfortunate trial-and-error) that it is typically a safe default to stay quiet. To keep these stories and experiences inside of me means that I am holding back a piece of myself from others, but at many points I have also felt that it meant I was less likely to get hurt. Until very recently, that seemed like a very attractive option.
This project was inspired by an inner desire to move from a space of "coping" and putting on a brave face to a place of both openness and serenity. Healing, in the Western sense of the word, has presented itself to me as a combination of psychological support and pharmaceutical drugs for 20 years now. But what if healing could so much more than that? My friend Roseanne, the same one who guided me through the art therapy lesson I wrote about in "Why This Rx?", recently said in an email to me that “No one and nothing will cure my fears, worries, concerns, etc...No one and nothing can reliably and predictably make me content or bring me joy. Joy and contentment can only come from me.” I thought about these words for a long time. No doctor or drug is going to bring me that joy. The hard work, the inner journey, is within me. I know that my healing needs to come from within, and yet sometimes I have gotten so bogged down with emotions that I can not begin the process. Time and again I have been encouraged to meditate and to journal to manage my stress. And yet, sometimes finding the energy and motivation to carve out even five or ten minutes for these activities seems daunting. The medium can be difficult. And I see that in others too - not everyone feels comfortable writing, or speaking, or sitting with one’s thoughts. In that spirit I began to create this project.
I believe that vulnerability and openness doesn't mean that I have to disclose every part of my experience and treat this space like a counselling appointment. Some parts of my journey are sacred and not to be shared. But I do hope that through exploring some of my life through photography and writing, that it might resonate with others - that they might feel a sense of being kindred spirits - that a supportive collective might grow. That we can start to air these stories, let go of shame and judgement (of ourselves or others), and be peaceful. I know that I have learned so much from others being willing to share parts of their life experience with me, and I would hope that maybe someday the concept of "Your Rx" might build into a true community.
Thank you for reading. I love meeting new people and having great conversations, so please reach out.