In my video I mentioned Dr. Abraham Low’s organization, Recovery, Inc. 

For those of you not familiar with Recovery, Inc., it is a somewhat old-fashioned but very effective mental health program for persons suffering from depression and other mood disorders. Founded by the neuropsychiatrist Abraham Low in 1937, the program has group meetings every week around the world, similar to 12-step support groups.

Low is sort of a grandpa (or great-grandpa) version of Dr. David Burns, bestselling author of Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy and The Feeling Good Handbook (which I own and use often). Low’s book, Mental Health Through Will Training, offers cognitive-behavioral techniques and methods for handling every day situations.

My great-aunt GiGi was one of the six numbers I kept in my pocket to call every other day during the horrible months of my depression. And Recovery, Inc. saved her life. Low’s book was her Bible. Each page is worn, with notes in the margins and underlined passages. I know this because it sits right next to my computer.

Like me, GiGi had a breakdown in her mid-thirties. She was hospitalized three times. For months, she sent her daughter to live with her sister (my grandmother) because she wasn’t capable of caring for herself, let alone another human being. In her early recovery, she told me that she’d study Low’s book for hours, practicing all the ways she could change her thinking. Thirty years later, she would immediately walk away from any conversation that had the potential to bring her down.

“Oh well enough of that, now tell me about so and so,” she’d say, changing the subject. She knew her limitations–that an ounce of negativity in her brain was toxic, just enough to get the snowball rolling.

“You got to work at it, honey,” she’d tell me every time I called. “The medication has to do its part, and you have to do yours. It’s hard, but eventually you’ll feel better.”

“Do the things that you like to do and are good at,” she added. “Try to stay as busy as you can.”

Her advice was invaluable. And thank God I recorded each of her suggestions. Because GiGi died last May.

My mom sent me GiGi’s Recovery book (Mental Health Through Will Training) last summer. The book–with her name and several addresses crossed out on the front cover–is better than a photograph to remember her by. Because all of the scribbling and the pamphlets and meeting schedules serving as bookmarks point to the sheer determination this woman threw at her recovery. I don’t know anyone–with a possible exception of my guardian angel Ann–who fought harder to stay well.

The book also afforded me a cool glimpse into her soul because tucked between its pages were clipped newspaper articles and magazine pieces from the ’60’s and ’70’s, like “Live Life Abundantly One Day At a Time,” “Philosophy of Optimism Aids Recovery From Depression,” and “Autumn Is Time for Fresh Start.” She hung onto obituaries of people she admired. And, what made me truly weep, were the several holy cards of St. Therese of Lisieux that I found in between Low’s covers.

The morning of GiGi’s funeral was, honest-to-God, the first a.m. I got out of bed without feeling like I was going to vomit. And that peace has stayed (with the occasional blips–like now). Gigi is certainly helping me from a place with no need of puke bags, where I suspect she doesn’t have to say novenas to St. Therese or practice Low’s techniques of positive thinking.

To read more Beyond Blue, go to www.beliefnet.com/beyondblue, and to get to Group Beyond Blue, a support group at Beliefnet Community, click here.