by Naomi Judd
• Exercise in any way you can. A ten-minute walk; yoga; kickboxing; Pilates. Plant a garden. Decide to walk to the grocery store and back, instead of driving. Throw the ball for your dog. When the weather is gloomy, I drive to our local mall. I park at one end and walk the length of the mall and back. The brightly colored store windows lift my mood and help make the exercising easier.
• If you don’t have a pet, adopt a dog or cat. Please, don’t buy one at a pet store. Go to a shelter. You will bring home unconditional love. If you live somewhere you can’t have a pet, then offer to walk a neighbor’s dog. Or go to your local pet shelter and give some love to the abandoned animals. You can find where shelters are located on the internet. We always need volunteers.
• Forgive yourself. Being angry with yourself, or feeling shame or guilt for your depression or anxiety, will only take you further down. You didn’t create your mental illness, so it’s pointless to be self-critical about it. I can’t emphasize this enough. It’s a disease of the brain.
Start to respect yourself. You deserve it. You’ll get better and look back on this time and feel proud of your progress. Wash the negative self-talk out of your mind with positive affirmations.
• Write down the things that you’d like to hear and say them to yourself.
My most difficult time of the day in battling depression is the morning. I have a routine I follow. I step out into my back yard and take a few deep breaths. I look around and notice what is growing. Then, when I take my medicine, I say a prayer of gratitude that they are working and supplying my brain with what it needs. One of the most famous affirmations was created more than a century ago by a French psychologist and pharmacist Émile Coué, who would tell patients to take their medication and say, “Every day, in every way, I’m getting better and better.” He discovered that his patients recovered more rapidly if they repeated this mantra. Or choose an affirmation of your own, something simple, like “I’m relaxed,” or “I am strong and stable.” Repeat it to yourself as often as you can in the beginning. You can record your own voice saying your affirmations and listen to it while you cook or clean or go for a walk. Your brain will begin to accept and believe it.
I was at an airport recently, when a man approached me to ask if I would pray with him. He was attending his daughter’s wedding and said, worriedly, “I’m getting the flu. Will you pray for me?” I replied, “Heck, no!” He gave me a puzzled look, so I explained. “Listen to what you said out loud, that you’re getting the flu. Now, if you’d like to pray ‘Thank you, God, that my immune system is strong and keeping me healthy’ then I can do that. Pray the answer, never the problem.”
Two of the pioneers of mind-body healing are Dr. Mona Lisa Schulz and Louise Hay. They have great books full of positive affirmations on health, healing, confidence, and finances that you can use if you can’t think of your own. Both have audio books and printed books, and you can find them at your local library. You can find their affirmations at www.HayHouse.com. Louise Hay, who looks like a million bucks, is ninety years old, still lectures around the country, and has a radio and publishing business, so she’s walking proof of the power of affirmations.
* * *
Every minute about one million of your cells die, replaced by an equal number of new cells. Perhaps because of heredity you have cells that bring depression or anxiety. They are on their way out. Every single molecule in your brain is replaced every two months. Now is the time to give yourself a psycho-spiritual makeover. Positive beliefs, prayer, visualizations of happy times, being in nature, gratitude, humor, exercise, rest, loving social networks, acts of kindness, goals, a sense of purpose—all have a powerful effect on all the major physical and mental systems of your body. We each have happy genes just waiting to express their potential. I know that it’s difficult to believe, especially when you are in so much pain and you just want the pain to stop. You have to find some reason to stay alive through the darkest days, even if it’s something simple.
All twenty-nine people who survived a suicide attempt from the Golden Gate Bridge said that they regretted their decision to kill themselves as soon as they jumped. All twenty-nine!
The therapeutic advice that has helped me the most is the concept of radical acceptance. Accept where you are right now. Once you have dealt with your subconscious issues or buried traumas, don’t stay there and ruminate. You don’t want to be a wound addict. Don’t marinate in your problems. Don’t spend time wishing it were different. For now, it’s not. But it can be. Move forward from that place. It’s a slow process, not a miraculous healing. You’ll have times where you feel it’s going to be okay and times where you still feel little hope. Accept that instead of letting it frighten you. The situation will change. Change is the true nature of life. Inch forward. Check your thoughts. Give yourself a way to think differently by making a change, even one that is imperceptible to others.
Don’t isolate yourself. Reach out. I can’t express how important it is to have social connection. You won’t have to reach very far to find someone who feels the way you do, has survived, and can help you to survive as well. And radical acceptance can come with helpful surprises you might never expect.
It seemed as if once I had radically accepted that my days onstage were over and I had fully involved myself in other purposeful pursuits for my future, out of the blue the phone rang.
The finale at the Venetian Theatre in Las Vegas with the “jewels” in my crown.
My manager was calling to say that the Venetian in Las Vegas was asking Wynonna and me to reunite for a string of concert dates in October and November of 2015 in their elegant Venetian Theatre. It had been four years since Wynonna and I had performed a concert together.
I was thrilled to have the opportunity and immediately asked if Wynonna had accepted the invitation. She had. It moved me that she told the press, “I looked at this as an incredible chance to celebrate my Mom… to honor the roots that gave me the wings to fly.”
Never say never. Suddenly my days were once again full to the brim with vocal training, rehearsals, finding stage gowns and shoes, and press opportunities. We named our concert “Girls Night Out,” which was one of our number one singles from 1985. Here we were, thirty years later, still selling thousands of tickets. I couldn’t wait to see the familiar smiling faces of all the fans once more.
Larry and I rented a condo in Vegas for the months of October and November and looked forward to being in the “Entertainment Capital of the World.” It was like a honeymoon for us. After all Larry had gone through for my sake in taking care of me, he deserved a change of scenery and some fun at the casinos.
On the day of our press interviews in Las Vegas, Wynonna and I fell into step with each other onstage and had a good time answering questions. Wynonna was wearing her signature black and I decided to dress up in a forty-dollar dress I found in a vintage shop. It was a cream-colored floor-length satin gown with a ring of ostrich-sized white feathers surrounding the neckline. Of course, I had to top it off with a tiara in my hair, because more is more when it comes to bling.
Robin Leach, the well-known host of the onetime hit TV show Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, now resides in Vegas and writes a column for the Las Vegas Review Journal. At a press conference held at noon he questioned me about wearing such an elaborate gown. When I asked him if he liked it, he replied that it was “hideous.”
I shrugged it off, but Wynonna took Robin to the mat for his insensitive description. It evoked a clear remembrance of the mother-daughter team from thirty years ago, supporting and defending one another. When we took a break Wynonna went to find Robin and told him, “She’s my mom. If she wants to show up in spandex and a tube top… go, girl.” She insisted that Robin owed me an apology and he good-naturedly agreed.
Later, in typical Wy reasoning and humor, she told me, “He hurt your feelings and I’m not going to let that happen. If anyone’s going to hurt your feelings, it’ll be me.”
This confirme
d for me that our bond may have bent over time, but it still wasn’t broken.
The staff and the show crew at the Venetian treated us like royalty and their professionalism was obvious in everything they did, matching the quality of the gorgeous theater. I even had a couple of Chippendale dancers join me onstage for a comedy bit, rising up through the stage floor on a platform.
When I stepped back onstage for the first show, I was overjoyed and moved to tears simultaneously. I had come full circle and was back home again. Performing is in my blood, whether it’s acting on TV, in a movie, or entertaining an audience during a speaking engagement. Communicating with others is in my soul. I savor every second of these opportunities.
While going over the list of songs in Vegas, everyone unequivocally agreed that one of them should be “River of Time.” I wrote this song in 1988, before my diagnosis with hepatitis C and long before I experienced severe depression. Songs take on different meaning as you progress through the stages of life and this one now held a more profound significance than ever before.
It was a thrill to be reunited with my daughter onstage, and it meant the world to me when she introduced “River of Time” on stage by confiding, “There are songs that are hits and there are songs that are heart pieces. This next one is my favorite song my mother has written. It’s a message of great loss… and then of newly discovered hope.”
RIVER OF TIME
I’m holding back a flood of tears
Just thinking ’bout those happy years
Like all the good times that are no more
My love is gone, gone, gone forever more.
Silence so deep only my soul can hear
Says now the past is what I fear
The future isn’t what it used to be
Only today is all that’s promised me.
Flow on, River of Time,
Wash away the pain and heal my mind.
Flow on, River of Time,
Carry me away
and leave it all far behind.
Flow on River of Time.
We’re all driven by the winds of change
Seems like nothing ever stays the same.
It’s fate that guides me around the bend
Life’s forever beginning, beginning again.
Flow on, River of Time.
My mother-daughter relationship with Wynonna and Ashley will always matter deeply to me. For all of its challenges, I know in my heart that my relationship with my mother will always matter to me, too. There is a new nursing home facility about fifteen miles from my farm. I’m in the process of convincing Mother to allow me move her there, closer to me. I would be able to visit almost daily and she could spend weekends at the farm with us. She would have the chance to spend more time with Wy and her family and Ashley. While it’s true that I didn’t get my emotional needs met with my mother, I’ve come to terms with that and now want to give her the best life possible for her remaining years. She is almost ninety years old and very frail, but still displays her quick wit. Surprisingly, she has softened recently and hugs me now and says she loves me. Better late than never. In the long run, she has taught me that no matter what the problem is, compassion is the best answer.
Life is short, but it’s wide.
There is no fairy-tale ending to this book, but you and I know there isn’t one in real life, either. I still have post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m identifying my triggers so I can avoid them, and I’ve learned how to process them when they can’t be avoided. I very rarely have a panic attack anymore. I also know they won’t kill me, that I’ll live. I’ve come to think of them as just occasional nuisances.
I still see and talk to Dr. Rosenbaum in Boston, who monitors my overall condition. I do dialectical behavior therapy with Diana at least once a week and I put into practice the skills I have learned through dialectical behavior therapy, which is my saving grace. I go for sessions in Pilates and I walk my dogs around our farm. I stay occupied with my new heart passions for animals and honoring our veterans. I’m enjoying my friends, again, and have a very active social life. I have my full range of emotions once more.
Larry says, “I’ve got my wife back!”
Every day I must continue to look forward.
When I had hep C, the reason I survived was hope. Now, once again, I’m living proof of the amazing powers of having a spiritual connection, a support system, humor, a love of nature, goals and a purpose, exercise and nutrition, rest, and an open mind.
During the Judds’ Farewell Tour concerts, in every city, every night, I ended with this thought: “I believe in the power of love. And, I believe there is always… Hope.”
Postscript
Bridge? What Bridge?
A few weeks ago, Larry and I were in Los Angeles, taping an upcoming TV show. As we did every morning, we strolled to a small café in our West Hollywood neighborhood for a cup of coffee. Larry bought a cherry pastry, my favorite, which I envied. We were chatting as I took a bite. I don’t know why I bothered, as it had been two and a half years since all food started tasting like paint thinner, an awful and truly rare side effect of the twenty-four electroconvulsive therapy treatments I endured. I had swallowed the mouthful before my eyes flew wide open in surprise. I could taste it. I could taste every sweet, custardy, flakey, delicious bite. My taste buds had miraculously returned.
I’ve been able to greatly reduce my anti-depression medications to less than half of what they were. My hand still trembles from one that I’m tapering off of, but it should steady out soon.
My hair is still thin and, I’ll admit, it’s a total hassle to wear a wig or a hat every day, but I know it will grow back in someday, as full, wavy, and red as ever.
Once in a while I’ll have a flashback to being locked in a psychiatric ward. I immediately start deep breathing and pull my focus back to the present moment, so I can’t think about the past anymore. It’s been quite a while since I frantically checked to make sure the doors were unlocked and I could step outside to freedom and fresh air whenever I wanted.
Depression can feel like riding a runaway train. Heart pounding, full speed ahead, with sudden stops, unpredictable curves, frustrating breakdowns, and never knowing what awaits you around the bend.
After the worst three years of my complicated life, I’ve finally gotten off the train. I’ve landed on my feet after much hard-won soul-searching, figuring out my troubled past to understand how and why I boarded that horrible train of depression in the first place.
My everyday life is not only manageable, it’s even enjoyable once more. I laugh a lot. I’m content and at peace because I practice radical acceptance every single day.
Please join me in telling the truth about depression and anxiety to anyone who will listen. It’s a disease of the brain, part heredity, part environment, like heart disease. It’s not a character flaw.
Only by telling our stories will more people understand.
Only by telling the truth will we stop the stigma.
I’ve told my story. Now you know.
And you can tell yours.
You are not alone. I’m still here.
A Note from
Dr. Jerrold Rosenbaum
From the darkest days of her depression, Naomi Judd kept in her view the inspiring thought that she needed to get through all this so she could get a message of hope and help out to others; at the first hints that recovery might be possible, she declared she would write a book about all she has suffered, overcome, learned and experienced to convey a message of understanding and hope and to add another salvo to break down the barrier of stigma. She had emerged from childhood with an extraordinary “double hit” of a genetic pedigree riddled with mental illness and a painful and poignant story of trauma and adversity, but offset remarkably with incredible resilience and determination to endure and overcome. And so we have the gift of her journey shared with us in this authentic, intimate and insightful narrative. I had the privilege of collaborating with her to find a co
urse out of what was an unyielding and severe depression and am moved by her partnership in the shared mission of reducing stigma, increasing hope and finding answers. For all who suffer, there is both compassion and remedy in these pages.
I would walk two blocks over to Daddy’s station just to be around him.
My brothers (left to right) Brian, before he got sick, and Mark, who is clowning around, on a summer afternoon with Mother and Daddy.
Brian and I were best buddies; we were always together.
Pets have always been my great love. Here I am with my brothers and our first dog, Duchess, at the farm.
I was very prim and proper. I played piano at the Baptist church on Sunday mornings.
We moved to Nashville in 1979 and I worked as an RN while my girls were in school.
I am so proud to call Dolly my friend. She’s the most brilliant woman I’ve ever known.
With my lovely daughters in 1984. Notice the Maytag wringer washer on the back porch.
Larry told me he was madly in love with me on our third date.
Our first live TV performance in 1982, at 5 a.m. on a local TV show. Wy was eighteen when we started singing.
When I travel for a speaking gig, I love to spend time hanging out with those in the medical profession.
The multi-generations that gather for our “family of choice” Sunday get-togethers keep Larry and me feeling young.