Writing therapy for depressed teens

In THE TRAZ, young Katrina's grieving and depression sends her into a downward and dangerous spiral. Depression is common among adolescents as they struggle with the physical and emotional changes that come with puberty as well as ever more complicated life situations. Depression makes youngsters not only vulnerable to the results of their own poor decisions, but also to nefarious adults--who are always on the watch for ways to exploit others' weaknesses.

There are very effective treatments available depression and if you suspect your child may be suffering from it, seek professional help quickly. You will find a list of international resources in the back of THE TRAZ to assist you in finding the help and information you need. (For an excerpt of that list, check out my blog Who do you call when you're down and out? ) 

Agnes Jimenez, a partner with HelpYourTeenNow.com, a resource agency/parent advocacy group, shares with us information on how keeping a written journal can help teens deal with their troubles.

Journal Writing As a Therapeutic Activity for  Depressed Teenagers

Life can be overwhelming, especially for teenagers. Social pressures, raging hormones, and everyday situations can be difficult. Teens do not yet have the life experience behind them to work through many of these issues. As a parent or mentor, you have the insight and responsibility to do your best to help them. Consider suggesting that they keep a journal.

 

Helping a Depressed Teen

It is important to get help for troubled teens.  Teens, who are feeling depressed may appear withdrawn, lose interest in things they once loved, and they may feel tired all the time. If you suspect a teen of being depressed, do what you can to get a professional involved. He or she will be able to help develop a plan of treatment. If this is not possible, being a positive role model can help. Journaling is an excellent suggestion for many reasons.

The Science of Journaling

Keeping a journal isn't quack medicine, there is science behind it. According to University of Texas psychologist and researcher James Pennebaker, writing about events that are stressful helps you come to term with them. This in turn reduces their impact on your physical health. His research also suggests that keeping a journal helps to boost the immune system. In addition to keeping physically healthy, there are mental benefits as well.

Clarification of Thoughts

Teens especially can feel lost, torn, and uncertain of themselves. They may feel one way, but will act in a totally different way to fit in. Writing these inner thoughts down without worrying about how they sound can help teens get in touch with their innermost selves. A journal acts as a judgment-free sounding board.

Discovery of Self

Writing in a journal can help teens get to know themselves better. They will enjoy greater self-confidence and happiness. The process also helps them identify people or situations that are toxic.  

Stress Reduction

Teens feel a range of intense emotions like anger and sadness. Writing about them is a form of expression. Vividly writing about how they feel will release some of those feelings. This lets them move on and deal with the situation without the pent up emotions.

Problem Solving

Writing down problems is a great way of working through them. Teens will be able to analyze and be more creative about their conflicts. When looking at them in this way, solutions might become easier to identify.

Depression is a serious issue for teens. If you know a teen that needs help, do what you can to involve a professional. Offer insight and suggestions, like keeping a journal. There are many proven benefits, and it can truly help them. 
 _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Agnes Jimenez is a professional blogger and writer. She writes for many online establishments and currently partners with HelpYourTeenNow.com in spreading awareness about troubled and depressed teenagers (and how to deal with them).  Help Your Teen Now aims to increase awareness on the current psychological and societal stresses of today's teens and how these factors affect the future of our society.

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THE TRAZ is available in paperback and ebook formats and in a special School Edition that includes a Teaching Guide. Click on the following links to purchase or sample THE TRAZ

Amazon eBook

Amazon Paperback

School Edition Paperback

School Edition eBook

  ______________________________________________

Eileen Schuh, Author
FATAL ERROR
Schrödinger's Cat
THE TRAZ

Who's to blame?

Click to purchase

Guilt, blame, forgiveness, taking responsibility—it’s all woven into the underlying theme of my new release FATAL ERROR.

This second book in the BackTracker series takes a look at how the characters deal with the social, emotional, and legal aftermath of their horrific year together with The Traz biker gang.

"So who's fault is it now, Sergeant Kindle? Who's to blame?" Katrina asks herself at one point.

Sergeant Kindle, the man who oversaw the police operation and now must oversee the healing, feels compelled to defend his officers. “It wasn't Shrug who murdered Lukas. That brutality wasn't his.”

Although he defends his men, Kindle knows that if Shrug refuses to accept responsibility, he won't begin healing. “Guilt is the downside of accepting blame,” he tells Shrug. “Being able to do something about what went wrong is the upside." His words do not sink in, though. Month's later he's after Shrug again. "So that's where you at?” he says. “You've given up blaming the girl and into blaming me?"

Perhaps because she's so young, with so few coping skills and a life bereft of a support system, Katrina has the hardest time dealing with what went down.

“If you hadn’t....” a character tells her as she slogs through her debilitating feelings of guilt and blame. Yes, way back when...if she hadn’t. One error in judgement and someone died. “If I hadn’t...” she thinks to herself. “If only I hadn’t...”

I address this question of guilt and blame in the discussion guide for FATAL ERROR (available here as a pdf downloadable file ).

Here’s an excerpt from that guide:

Katrina was very young and grieving the loss of her parents and grandparents when she took up life on the street.  Kindle wants her to accept at least some of the blame for what happened to her in The Traz biker compound.  He believes she will not be able to recover from the trauma until she does.  However, Shrug thinks forcing her to accept responsibility for what she did will make her even more emotionally unstable. 

 Questions:

• How responsible are we for what happens in our lives?
• At what age should we start taking the credit or blame for the results of our decisions and behaviours?
• If we don’t learn to accept responsibility, are we at risk of feeling helpless and victimized? 

Sometimes victims of abuse wrongly think the abuse is their fault.  

Questions:

• How do we know if we should take responsibility for bad things in our lives?
• Is taking responsibility for things the same as accepting blame for them?
• Can we accept responsibility and blame without being overcome by guilt, as Sergeant Kindle seems to do?
• Can we make our lives better even if we don’t accept the blame for the bad things that have happened to us?
• Shrug, Syd, Chad, and Sergeant Kindle all admitted responsibility, at least partially, for their roles in Katrina ending up in The Traz biker compound. Katrina and Rusty are reluctant to believe anything was their fault.
  Question:
  
  • In FATAL ERROR, it appears that those accepting blame are able to move past the experience easier. Is that realistic?
  -----------------------------
  
  
  Do these questions even have answers? My characters struggle to uncover the truth.
  "Damn it, Sarge.” Shrug said. “Don't screw me up more. I had myself convinced I'd f*** you around."
  
  "You did. But I let you. So, where does the blame lie? With me?”
  At one point, Shrug mutters, "There are many reasons things happen."
  
  
  Katrina is keenly aware of the blame Shrug lays on her. "There are many reasons things happen,” she fights back.“And they don't all come back to me. I'm not the master cause of the universe."
  So, where does the blame lie? In Katrina’s one fatal error? In Shrug’s invitation to the girl to join him in the gang? In Kindle, who overlooked the fact Shrug had involved a child?
  Does the blame rest way back when before any of it happened...when those who could’ve got her off the street, didn’t? Or back to the drunk driver that killed her parents, and left her grieving and without guidance? Back to the child abuser who turned that driver into an alcoholic? Back... back.

So many in our prisons are themselves victims of violence. Many suffer head injuries that have disabled their judgement and inhibited their control over thinking and behaviour. Others are living with similar disabilities arising from their time way back in the womb when, despite the wee bodies and brains forming inside them, their mothers drank or used drugs.

A violent society, violent homelife. Injuries imposed by others . Addictions.

And then there are those who for their own sad reasons make a living from such human weaknesses.

So, now, Sergeant Kindle, who’s to blame?

If only....

___________________

FATAL ERROR on Amazon.com


FREE! Nov 10, 11 2012

FATAL ERROR eBook in the UK
FATAL ERROR paperback in the UK
___________________

 Eileen Schuh, Author 

FATAL ERROR   

Schrödinger's Cat 

THE TRAZ

www.eileenschuh.com

Purple circles twice a day

Grieving 

Purple circles

Twice a day

Not that I'd take too many

But that I'd dump them

Crush them 

Flush them down the drain

Anticipate the darkness

The blackness

The pain

That should be

Could be

Would be

If I didn't swallow 

Purple circles 

Twice a day.

Eileen Schuh, Canadian writer www.eileenschuh.com

Writing away your troubles...

I am mourning the passing of my mother and although I don't feel like doing much of anything, I thought it may help to pay a tribute to this strong, family matriarch.

I partially followed in my mom's footsteps--she was a published author, too. She wrote children's short stories for magazines. One of her stories was adapted for use in a grade school reader. She loved kids, and always had a passel of them around. Cousins of all ages spent time with us on the farm, sometimes for weekends or summer vacations and sometimes for a year or two because life in our little house in the woods was better than their lives in the city.

I didn't inherit Mom's passion for raising other people's children, but I did inherit her love of books...and writing. She taught me to read at age 3 (at my insistence).  I was a January baby and in those days, unless you were born before the end of December, you had to start school the next September.  Although I was almost 7 by the time I stepped onto that yellow school bus and thrived on the learning part of Grade 1, I found the social aspect of the experience extremely difficult. Most of my days were spent wishing I was home with my mommy.

Last week as I was going  through old pictures to help my daughter create a video collage for Mom's memorial service, I came across some letters...that I wrote.

Mom told me that whenever I missed her at school, I should write her a letter. My teacher apparently told my mom I talked funny. She was probably right, judging by the way I sounded out some of the words and phrases in those lonely, homesick letters...

Dear Mummy I want to see you now. I guess I will aftoeweat (have to wait) to see you. Begose (because) it is not time to go home. I have a lope in my trot (a lump in my throat). I swlod (swallowed) it now. I hop it will not come again. I hop you are doing fin. I am doing fin.I gaive your letter to Miss.young. I! LOVE! YOU!

good-by for now Eileen p.s. over....

[My editors will notice my love of the exclamation mark started at an early age. My readers will notice I began to develop my story-telling abilities at a young age, too.]

It is reses (recess) now. I am tayerd (tired) now. our ool (whole) Room had a esy(easy) test. I will till you now how I made in it. [Notice how I am building suspense.] I made 100 in It. It is lache time (lunch time) now. I wate (want) you very much. I guess it is chast (just) ubout time to go home. I have not-hing to say for now But just went (just wait) [again, building suspense] mayBe I have yes! I do! I can not find aneybody to play with. I think I will tow (?) I can wat to see you now be gouse (because) it is Jues (just) about home time. Soo good-by.

love Eileen

********

I was obviously learning the therapeutic benefits of writing. I also quickly learned other benefits, too, like asking for things. A few months prior to the above letter, I was in bed upstairs with chickenpox when I sent this note down with my little sister: 

Dear Mummy

I am fanneg [finished] eating now. I am egie [itchy]. It is shallie [chilly] up here and I want you to make my bed

*******

Today I am that sad little girl again...missing her mommy.

Maybe I'll write Mom a letter...

Eileen Schuh, Canadian Author 
www.eileenschuh.com

 ___________________________________________

Prefer paperbacks to eBooks? No problem!

Both of my books, SCHRÖDINGER'S CAT and THE TRAZ,

qualify for Amazon.com's "4-for-3" promotion.

Buy 4 eligible books and pay for only 3!

Click here to buy SCHRÖDINGER'S CAT paperback

Click here to buy THE TRAZ 1st edition paperback

 ___________________________________________

Time does not stop

Although our autumn has blessed us with a hot mellow sun, long past the time when it usually submits to the cold north wind, it's obvious from the much shorter daylight hours that time has not stood still to grieve.  And neither has life.

As much as I wished it would, sometimes. 

The sun keeps rising and setting and the earth keeps orbiting and the geese gather to fly south--seemingly irrespective of those who have passed from our lives.  Time goes on.  Life goes on.

Earlier this summer I was asked by a fellow author and friend to review the short story she wrote for young teens.  IN MEMORY OF MY DAD by Maranda Russell. (Purchase In Memory of my Dad) It now comes back to me.  Maranda lost her father as a young teen and had a message for youngsters--or all of us for that matter--on how to survive the grieving process. Her story reminds us that we have not only a duty to the deceased, but a duty to life.  To our world.  To those around us.

Maranda is not the only one kind enough to gently prod me back to the land of the living.  "You must blog about Imajin Books' involvement in Alberta Arts Days from September 30 to October 3.  Our ebooks are on for $1 off.  If you could mention that on your blog that would be awesome," my good friend Cheryl Kaye Tardif emailed.  I think she noticed Magic of the Muses was stuck in time--immobile, untouched, not moving. Not living

"I'll personally donate a copy of my book CHILDREN OF THE FOG to the winner of your Kindle contest," she bribed. 

Thank you, Cheryl.  You can read more about Imajin Book's sale here Imajin Book's Alberta Arts Days eBook sale  And I'll soon be posting information on how you can enter my raffle to win that Kindle and Cheryl's scary novel.

Cheryl wasn't the only one to notice my withdrawal from things cyberspace.  "Eileen, where have you been?" tweeted my UK author/friend Pauline Barclay.  "Check my blog for a gift to you."

Thank you, Pauline, for giving me a Friendly Blogger Award.  Pauline has revamped her novel MAGNOLIA HOUSE, even giving it an intriguing new cover.  see my award on Pauline's blog

You may remember Pauline as the UK author of SOMETIMES IT HAPPENS... Pauline Barclay on Amazon  We guested on each others' blogs a while back, promoting our new releases.  This enabled me to reach the European readership with THE TRAZ and Schrödinger's Cat, and Pauline got to introduce herself and work to a Canadian audience.  Pauline's Guest Blog on Magic of the Muses My guest spot on Pauline's blog

My friends, both real-life and virtual, both home and abroad, are absolutely awesome.  A big thanks to all of you for not only supporting and encouraging my writing career, but being there for me as I stumble through life.

With your help, I'll soon be back on track with racing shoes on my feet.


Eileen Schuh, Canadian writer www.eileenschuh.com

Time heals all...

It was as I thought, when I awoke this morning.  The sun was much less yellow, the sky darker, and the birds were all gone.  Yes, the entire world is in mourning.

I first noticed it last night when the full September harvest moon was not orange  and huge and hugging the horizon but was rather puny, white, and distant.

http://bit.ly/odXp0m

And the night-time stars were hazy little pinpoints--far away and cold.  It's obvious--the entire universe is grieving.

I would not doubt that autumn never turns to winter and spring does not arrive...because time itself has stopped to weep.

And without time to heal us...

Eileen Schuh, Canadian writer www.eileenschuh.com

David Bertsch: In Memory

There were eight of us cousins who played and fought through many summers on that dirt farm near Tofield that I called home.  Sometimes all eight of us camped out in that little log cabin with the kerosene lantern, wood stove, and coal oil lamps.  That big, round, oak table.  The cream separator in the corner and the Winnipeg Couch sitting just off the trap door to the cellar.  The RCA Gramophone and the chemical toilet.  There was no TV or telephone.  We talked to each other face to face and made our own entertainment.

There was me, Marilyn, my younger sister by 3 years and Ruth, my older sister by 3 years.  There were Muriel and Maureen--my two female cousins between Ruth and me in age.  Then, there were the boy cousins--they were the exciting ones--the older ones.  Daryl was three years older than Ruth and the oldest of us all 'the twins', Donald and David.

Oh, yes, I have fond memories of that whole passel of cousins, but David...now David, he was the best.  Beyond a doubt.  Not one of that summer-pack of kids will argue with that fact.

I remember...

Yup, cranking up that gramophone and David teaching us young ladies to do the Schottische.  Keep in mind this was a 20' x 20' cabin, and David was a large man even in his teen years.  But that boy was light on his feet and had rhythm--and patience, and (of necessity when trying to teach me grace) a sense of humour.  He laughed as I hit the Winnipeg couch and kept going right up onto it in order to finish the last steps of the sequence.

Some of my earliest memories are of David.  In fact, I think the very first thing I remember is being in his arms on a hot summer day.  I know it is him I'm remembering, because I remember his scent.  Being big, he sweat a lot, and that was not a bad thing; it etched him into my memories.  Today I inhale, and imagine, remember, and weep because David will not sweat any more.

He has left us, the first of us eight to die.  It should not have been him.  He was the gentle one of us all, endowed with a wisdom and social grace seldom found in the young.  Otherwise, we would not have been nicknamed him 'Owl'.  He taught us all, through both example and words, the great interpersonal skills and magnanimity that youngsters need to be taught.

I remember being about 8 and making a remark about David being fat.  He told me I shouldn't say things like that.  "Why?" I asked, because after all he was fat.  I was just stating a fact. I didn't know being fat was a bad thing.  I had not meant to be mean.

He asked if I'd like him to make comments about my  yellow teeth just because they were, in fact, yellow.  Therein, I learned tact.  I learned to step outside myself to consider how others may be feeling.  I learned the power of  words to hurt--and heal.  I learned people knew exactly how they looked and did not need me to tell them.  I learned.

We also nicknamed Dave 'Owl' because he actually went to university, the first one in the family to do so.  He became a special education teacher and taught trouble kids.  He loved his job.  I have no doubt he was very good at it because he could spot potential in a person--potential that even one's mother didn't realize one had.  He honored everyone's potential and gently and persistently he'd pull it forth.

Not 'potential' like academic potential.  Or financial potential.  Or career potential.  'Potential' like one's innate ability to love, forgive, and care.  The potential to be loyal, kind, happy, strong, likable, and liked.  

Not long ago I asked him why he played with me when we were kids.  After all,  I was ten years younger, self-centred, and more than a little stubborn.  He scowled and said he didn't think I'd been any of that.  He always thought I was a 'neat' kid.  That changed forever my self-perception.  He made me believe I'd been a likable child--a fact that proved very comforting when I was faced with some darker childhood memories.

I want you to get to know David better so imagine this--I'm about 5 years old and David's a young teen-aged boy.   It's a hot summer day and we're outside with a tub of rain water and a wooden box full of doll clothes.  We're going to wash all these clothes and rinse them and hang them on the clothes line.  David and I.  I have no doubt they needed washing as water was scarce on the farm--there was no well.  Household water had to be hauled from my uncle's farm a couple of miles away.

I have no doubt that I agreed to this idea, because doing anything with David was bound to be adventuresome.  I was set to pretend I was a mother doing her laundry.  I remember however, that about ten minutes into the chore of washing each of those tiny dresses and wee blankets with my tiny hands in cold water, the idea lost its glamour.  It was then, under David's gentle tutelage that I learned to complete tasks.  I learned to forgo present comfort in order to achieve goals.  Those washed outfits definitely looked wonderful compared to the soiled and grey ones yet to be done.  Keep going.  Keep washing.  He was there to help.  He could warm my hands in his.  He could use his strong fingers to wring out the water, his height to hang them on the clothesline, his voice to keep me going until the job was done.

Yes, I must keep going. Reach my potential.  Finish the jobs I've started.  Finish my life--even though David is no longer here to warm my hands in his.

I miss you so much, David.

Eileen Schuh, Canadian writer www.eileenschuh.com

"Brain Tales" by author Sarah Butland

“At Ease”

The archaic language...
Or perhaps, the tears.
The short, confusing journeys that take forever.
Surreal. Compelling.
One loses a child and suddenly and thereafter, the world makes no sense.
“Once the tears reached the river the reflection distorted and then reshaped…”

Must re-read this deceptively simple tale...

At Ease—A Sarah Butland Brain Tales story

_____________________

Sarah, why do you write?

Like many writers say, I write because I have to. My mind, my heart and my soul all continually tell stories and I try to do them justice by writing some down. Some turn out to be muddled useless anecdotes that I keep to myself while others need to be shared with the world. I also write because I love to.

If your time and your energy were a pie, how big a piece would be devoted to your writing?

Eight weeks ago I would have said 98% of the pie would be the piece I wanted to devote to my writing, with a sliver being the actual amount I did. Now, with a new born to look after and love I am actually writing a lot more (while he sleeps and entertains himself for a few hours each day) so I'd now say a reasonable size piece, not to make one feel bloated but just right after a healthy meal. :)

People read for many reasons (entertainment, enlightenment, education, spiritual fulfillment.) Which of humanities needs and/or desires do you see your writing fulfilling?

My writing has been primarily focused toward the entertainment aspect of reading. Very light, quick reads that have my readers wanting to read more while they relax on the beach.

What role does cyberspace play in your writing career? What does your future writing career look like?

With many of my own websites I've been given the opportunity to blog about random things, specific things, meet many fellow authors and aspiring authors as well as learn so much through marketing and writing sites.
I plan to have my writing career take off any day now and, although I plan to go back to my full time job as I love it, writing is what I do best.

Where can people find/purchase your published work? Unpublished works?

Sending You Sammy and Brain Tales Volume One, my two published works thus far, can be found on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Chapters websites as well as local stores in Comox, British Columbia and Moncton, New Brunswick. Unpublished works can be found at www.SarahButland.com.

What advice do you have for me and other aspiring novelists?

Keep at it! Of course it's a cliche but this one is the best one out there. Do it for yourself most of all, if you're truly a writer the only audience you really need is you. Any readers who love your work after that make you quiver with delight.

Thank you for the interesting questions and for posting this, Eileen. Very much appreciated.
Sarah Butland

Thank you, Sarah, for sharing with us.
Enjoy that little one! Give him a cuddle and kiss for me....