Looking Through The Glass

I have to admit that I am a people watcher. Yep, I don't deny it one bit. I'm curious about folk's backgrounds and why they do what they do. Needless to say, I have to be careful when I go out to dine with others, that I don't spend all my time watching folks and turning out to be a dreadful mistake and waist of time. I don't know if I have always been like this or if over the years with my employment that required me to do A LOT of observing, if it just became part of me. I actually spent some time where I observed and worked with teachers that were teaching missionaries. At times I would be asked to have a class meet in the "observation room." What did this mean? Have you ever been in one of those interrogation rooms where they have the mirror/window like on TV? Don't worry, you don't have to answer. Well, that's what this room had. At times other teacher supervisors would want to meet and be able to discuss what was happening, but not be a disturbance; thus, the one way mirror thing. There was a device that we could turn on to be able to hear those in the room, but it did not work the best. It's amazing how much you miss when you can't hear what is being said being left up to your own judgements. Working at night in that little dark room did wonders with me getting to know the sandman.

Later in my employment life, I got to be the guy that people got to "discuss" their concerns with how the company I worked for handled their money. I learned rather fast that one of the most important things I had in my office was a comfortable chair because of the great need of being able to sit back and relax and simply listen ... not judge, but listen. These little get-togethers could be very quick with the client getting to the point, be it yelling, red faced or calling me names I later had to look up. Other times I could be tied up for a while listening to a family history lesson of sorts. When I was first introduced to this type of employ I had no clue how to handle these situations. I did a lot of smiling while calling on the powers above to either get me out of that situation or let it come to a quick close. Looking back, one of the most beneficial things I learned was that everyone is different and wears all sorts of masks of emotions to hide truly how they are. I had people that came in threatening me and when all was said and done, they were in tears. It wasn't because I gave them a good beat down ... even though the temptation grew strong at times. The most powerful thing I learned that had people open up was when they felt I cared and they could trust me.

Have you ever stopped for a moment and really thought about the people that you trust? I mean really trust. For me, I think there are different levels of trust I have with folks, but those that I truly trust with all my heart is few in number. Depression has brought me what I like to call the twin stooges ... Insecurity and Vulnerability. Never in my life have I felt these so strongly and they consume me. That is why I am the king of masks. Unless you're in my small group of folks I trust, and even then the times are few, 100% of the time I'm wearing a mask of smiles and joy. Why? I've really got to be able to trust you. I've really got to feel that if I open up, you won't laugh at how I describe my emotions and claim they're not valid or don't make sense. Believe me, I know they don't make sense. I've got to believe that you will have my back ALL the time. I've got to know that you won't push or probe if I simply don't want to talk about the illness and just want to have company to help support me. I've got to know that you care about me. I've got to know that you won't think less of me. Yep, that is a lot of stipulations. I think that's why I trust few and am lonely a lot. It's like getting out of the shower and grabbing a towel that has been on the towel rod too long and does not smell divine ... it's quite unpleasant.

I did an experiment this past week about the phrase, "how you doing?" Not like how Joey says it on Friends, but simply asking. In my experience, it has become more of a greeting than actually a sincere question. Some don't even finish the question until after they have walked right by you. One of these days I want to answer something about a unicorn that is smoking maryjane and see what kind of response I get. So I know there are those that are thinking, "what do I say?" Try, "nice to see you."

One last thought, and then I will try to make some type of conclusion with all of these thoughts. I've grown up in a culture where I'm asked, "is there anything I/we can do for you?" Most times I reply "nope" when I know there are things I need help with and it's because of the stupid man pride thing. I've been taught that if I need things I need to ask, which again was hard. As mental illness walked in my door it was new to me, my family and those around us. The common reply was, "let me know what you need." That is one of those putting the square block in the round hole scenarios ... it doesn't work. That trust thing is in the way. I even tried one time getting brave letting know what I needed ... it didn't happen.

All right, I have put all the ingredients in the bowl. Let me see if I can pull it all together now. When I hear someone say, "Oh, I SAW him the other day and he looked great," responding to how a person with mental illness is doing, I cringe. You "saw" but don't have a clue. You looked through the observation glass, but didn't hear anything. When I hear someone say, "I'm just waiting for them to ask me for help," regarding someone with mental illness, I cringe. When I hear, "I asked them how they were doing when I walked by them and they said 'great'", regarding someone with mental illness, I cringe. Please know that I'm not getting on a soap box and saying everyone is like this. I see some energy and focus on being more aware of those with mental illness. To me, that is half the battle. Having and idea of how to use the energy and focus is crucial. It reminds me of four year old children so excited to play soccer for the first time, but have no idea the best way to approach it except run around in a group all trying to kick the ball. As they learn what works best, the outcome is greater.

Okay, so if you have made it this far reading ... thanks. I didn't mean to write a book tonight. Loneliness hurts and when you feel it's your fault it seems to stink worse. I can promise, and I don't use that word "promise" lightly, that there are folks in your circle of friends or that are close to you that are suffering. Be that friend they can trust.  

1 Day Til Death

1 Day Til Death ... sounds like a great metal band doesn't it? Who knows, there might be one out there. Boy, starting off with a tangent is always a delight isn't it? Alright, I will try to bring it home. In my life, a question has been asked of me scattered over the years. It goes something like this, "what would you do if you knew you were going to die tomorrow? If you died today or tomorrow, are you ready to meet your maker?" I believe that in some occassions the question came trying to motivate me by fear to have my life in order, but in most cases I believe the intention was pure to have me to do some of that lovely introspection. In grade school was the first time I heard that question and actually heard it far more than once. My thoughts back then was easy. I wanted to do all the things I hadn't done yet in life ... see famous places, eat awesome things, and of course, kiss that pretty girl that really didn't give me much attention. As junior high and high school came around I was casually testing the boundaries of what I could get away with. So, when that question came about death, I usually felt fear because in my heart I felt God wouldn't want to be with me due to my "exploring life." I truly did not understand the mission of the Messiah. As I got married and my incredibly cool kids came along, I would think if my family was set up financially. That quickly was taken away as I thought about how badly I would miss my beautiful wife and amazing kids. In my heart, I felt and still feel I would see them again after my turn was done on this earth ... I just would miss them terribly.

Living a life of thinking about if today was the day it was over is not a great way to live. That to me is like looking constantly down placing your feet ever so carefully while missing the view of the Grand Canyon or majestic Rocky Mountains or seeing the incredible healing waters of any beach. I think you get the point.

Let me shift gears here a bit. What if you knew that someone was trying to kill you? What if you knew that the person was going to try every day? What if you knew that person? What if that person lived close to you? What if that person lived in your head? Please note, I did NOT say it was you. "You" is the heathly person ... the person in your head is illness.

As the dark abyss of depression began taking over my life and suicidal thoughts began to become suicidal battles, I was getting my tail kicked, but not beat. I learned quickly that I was in the battle of my life, literally. In my darkest of times, I would honestly wake up in the morning wondering if that was the day I was going to lose. If that was the date that would read on my tombstone, with some clever comment about enjoying some Egg Nog by the big Christmas tree in the sky. See, that's the kicker about fighting the illness trying to convince you that things are better off without you ... all it needs is only one time to win.

Being with sincere loving people that I know care about me helps me. Being on meds help me. Meeting with my psychologist and psychiatrist help me. A loving God helps me ... yes, I honestly let him know how I feel, which at times is mad at him and at this; yet, I know He loves me. What do I mean by helps me? It's easier to win a battle with more people on your side ... people you know that are on your side. People that know you know they are on your side, not those that assume weekly. There are times when I'm approached by the suicidal thoughts that seem like an ant amongst giants. Yet, there are still times when suicidal thought is a warrior and I simply run by distracting myself, while "calling all angels." I'm not affaid to die, I know my Savior and God. I just want to die when it's the right time ... not because I lost.  

 

The Wall of Who I Am

I grew up in a split level home, which brought all sorts of possibilities for a mischievous young lad and his siblings. My personal favorite were the stairs, both sets gave limitless enjoyment. Now my mom was a teacher and she had tons of boxes ... some empty, some half-full and some filled up all the way. There was a time when we took great pleasure setting up empty boxes on the stairs creating a wall. We also had beds and couches, so if we weren't feeling too adventurous we would either put a mattress or couch cushions at the bottom of the stairs hoping to prevent any injuries ... like that really worked anyway. There were all sorts of different sizes of boxes so it took some time to set up the wall correctly so it wouldn't fall over on its own. If you wanted the full blown box wall destroying experience, you would take the time necessary to put the correct size of box in the right place. When the wall was ready, I wouldn't even take a deep breath to prepare myself, I would jump at the soonest moment possible experiencing joy, triumph, bliss and of course a little pain here and there.

When given a task or assignment to do, I would attack it and strive to get it done even if it meant I had to do it myself. In fact, I usually liked to do it myself ... that way it could be done "my way." Even as a sickness or different health issues came into my life I would attack them the best I could to overcome them, even if it meant following doc's orders completely.

When depression and anxiety entered my life and I finally began recognizing something was off, I began to see a psychologist and psychiatrist. I was eager to follow their instructions so I could attack the illness and get through it quickly. I began to feel frustrated fast. I wanted to do the appropriate actions and be done with it. The hurdle, is that mental illness is so individual and can take time to figure out what to do and even what meds to take. Imagine the frustration fighting a battle when you really don't know what you are fighting. In the midst of all this, the darkness of depression and the weight of anxiety began to have me question everything I did and was, from my relationship with Deity, my wife even to any "hobbies" I thought I enjoyed. I simply mean everything. It was as if my life I had created over the years had been a nicely well built brick wall that fell apart brick by brick. I began the overwhelming task of putting the wall back together examining each brick deciding if I wanted it back in my wall or to chuck it out of my life. I began defining who I really was ... and kind of what I wanted to be. There were some easy decisions like my wife and amazing children. I have learned though that examining some bricks and coming to grips if you are going to keep it or get rid of it can take a LONG TIME ... I mean a long time.

The first big mistake I made building the wall of who I am, was knowing what bricks had been in my wall and liking them and assuming they needed to be in my wall again. In all sickness, illness or health issues I had previously fought, I was working to get back to the "healthy me." I have learned that with mental illness, I am not working to "get back" to who I was. That was a horse pill for me to swallow ... no, not a horse pill, but a huge elephant pill. I liked who I was. I learned though that not only were chemicals calling audibles doing their own thing, but some certain deep beliefs I held may have not been that healthy. I am NOT talking about my beliefs in Deity or His church, but ways I thought I needed to be. I was quite scared and empty as I saw those bricks not work with the wall I was building. Something I had believed my whole life of what I had to be or needed to be and that I enjoyed was not working well with my wall. I tried very hard to have them fit, but as I did so the process of building the wall or defining who I am stopped. I know darkness.

As I have come to grips that I am building a new "me", if you will ... kind of like the million dollar man; I would be called the infinity dollar man by the way ... enough tangents. I have made some good ground on creating the new me. I still struggle with a lot of things of life, but am making headway. I do have some bricks come out of place every now and then, that I have to examine again and usually have to put back and then figure why they fell. The extremely hard part, is when several bricks shift and fall ... bricks that were at the bottom causing a lot if not all bricks to fall down again. Yep, it happens and I don't like it. I know darkness. Yet, I sit back down amongst the piles and piles of bricks and pick them up again and start all over. The good news is that I can and I'm getting better at it. Putting bricks in the right place is important and is worth the wait just like the wall of boxes. The difference is that I want this wall to stand, for it is who I am.

Past, Present and Phuture

Okay, I know spelled future incorrectly. But am I the only one that thinks it would be cool if future was spelled with a "ph"? Then you could say, "aw, the three p's." It's like they were so close to making it perfect but messed up on the last word. Like traffic lights ... Green for Go, Yellow for Yield and Red for Rstop. Oh, so close. For those that need it spelled correctly, here you go: Past, Present and Future.

PAST
The past is something that is talked a lot about with many opinions. "Stop looking at the past and move on." "It's good to look back at the past and learn from it all." I guess if you go with the first theory of thought, the saying of, "do you remember when" would be something not brought up anymore. I think either thought is okay, to me it's not an either or.

PRESENT
The lovely, "now." As a kid, I would always think how fast "now" really was. To me it seemed like the quickest of the Past, Present and Future. One would blink, and the now we were experiencing had become the past. I have heard many opinions about the Present. "Live for right now and forget about any type of consequences." "Don't have your head in the clouds looking back at the past or ahead at the future and not enjoy the right now." I've learned that not thinking of the consequences is a poor choice.

FUTURE
"If you fail to plan for the future, you plan to fail." "Where will you be in five years?" "Don't be working so hard for tomorrow that you forget today." For whatever reason, I have a plethora of sayings about the future. It seems to me that they all seem so "final." If you don't do this, then you will be placed in this pigeon hole. You better do this or your family will be permanently slotted in this class of people. I've learned that clever sayings about the future may have good merit and intention behind them, but does not carry the weight to give me a horrific consequence.

Why the breakdown of the Past, Present and Future? I have been thinking a lot about these three labels of time lately and how they fit in with my depression. I can tell you that I don't like thinking about the Past. As I think about the time in my life when I wasn't fighting mental illness it brings me everything but hope and joy. I long to be there. For me it does more bad than good. I don't like thinking about the Present. My now is the fight of my life, with darkness, with guilt, with shame, with wondering who I really am. My now is wanting to be away from now. I don't like thinking about the Future. I can't tell you how much I abhor thinking about the future. If making through a day is a success, then when I even think about making it through a month or two it completely overwhelms me.

I guess I'm struggling with trying to figure out "where" to live. I feel it would be wrong of me if I didn't mention that the bright moments of living now, is the love I feel from being with my incredible kids and wife. The sadness is how fast depression can chase that away. I want to live and as I struggle to work through this, I strive not to think about the labels of time. I want to live and feel love.

Choice, Part II

In my young life, I have experienced the following ... to name a few:

- Broken Bones
- Stitches (on more than one occasion)
- Torn Ligaments
- Blood Clots in my left leg (I had to give myself shots in the gut to fight this. Nothing like having a gut for a pin cushion.)
- Pulmonary Embolism ... Blood Clot in the lungs. (I was introduced to morphine ... wo!)

Believe me, I am incredibly thankful for doctors, meds and divine assistance and that I have been able to heal during those delightful events. They weren't fun by any means, but I made it through.

I recently met with my Psychiatrist talking about adding another med to the mix that I have been taking. As we chatted, she explained to me that the brain has eight major chemicals. When any one of those chemicals decide to do their own thing and not play nice, that's when mental illness can begin. The three different meds I am currently taking is to assist with three chemicals that are rebelling in my head. How do they know, which meds to give me? Thankfully, history has given the docs an idea what helps with depression and anxiety. The "fun" part, oh the sarcasm, is finding the right mix that works well for each individual. That comes by what I call, throw it at the wall and see if it sticks. Sad to say, the medical world isn't quite to point where they can give you a test and see what exact meds are needed for mental illness and what will work. I went through several different mixes to find what worked and even just added another, like I mentioned, to try to do some fine tuning.

Why do I share this little bit of info that I have learned? One of my biggest struggles in all this is the word, "choice." Okay, maybe not the word, but the ability to choose. I hold the thought dear to my heart that one of the greatest gifts we have here on this great planet is the ability to choose ... be it bad or good. If my world was feeling negative, I would focus on positive things and I would begin to feel positive. With mental illness, clarity of thought can be so fleeting. The ultimate scare for me, is when clarity of thought is gone and I'm still left to make choices. Perhaps, that is why I profusely abhor making decisions. I've had to learn that understanding how my choice and mental illness work together. When I first started this journey I fought so hard to just choose to be happy, but I kept losing that battle over and over. I get it how people in their ignorance, just say, "just get over it and be happy." The understanding of mental illness is still in the dark shadows of society. With all the physical ailments I listed above that I went through, not once did someone tell me to just get over it. There is an understanding that those things took time to heal. Even those that never experienced them. Why? For whatever reason, there is no stigma associated with those ailments. For now, I strive daily to continue to understand how choice and mental illness interact taking it one day at a time.

Respones To Robin Williams Death/Suicide ~ Some Spot On, Some So Completely Wrong

I was heart broken yesterday hearing the news about Robin Williams taking his life. He was a man of quick whit and hilarious humor, amongst so many other talents. I was not sad about not being able to see new material from him though. I was sad because a brother of mine gave into the dark torture of depression. No, I wasn't related to him via blood, but I could and can relate to the demons he fought.

Yes, I spent too much time yesterday and today watching the plethora of news stations and the interviews of celebs and reactions of others via twitter or other social media. Even the President of the U.S. made a statement of the horrible event. During all this time I heard responses that actually made me think the stigma of the mentally ill may actually be chipped away with larger chunks, then the countless times occurred that placed rebar to reinforce and even add to the strength of the stigma. For one that has fought the battle of severe depression for three and a half years, I had to say something. There are simply too many points I heard to comment on, so I have picked the ones that I thought needed some comments, be it right on or so way off.

~ "Depression is a disease, not a simple mood swing." For one that grew up loving life and being happy, I struggled immensely when overwhelming sadness began to enter my world and I couldn't shake it off. This sadness consumed me, and no matter what I did that made me happy in the past, it was not going away. I wasn't too thrilled being diagnosed with severe depression, in fact I was embarrassed. I have learned though that there is nothing to be embarrassed about even though there is a heavy stigma. The bottom line is that I didn't one day tell myself, "I think I'm going to choose to have depression." The chemicals in my head began doing their own thing striving to convince me of all sorts of horrible things. Mental Illness is a disease and is real!

~ "I can't decide if what Robin did was an act of courage or him just being a coward. Truly it was just selfish." I want to purchase a shirt that says, "I'm Ignorant When It Come To Depression" for the person that said this. Sadly, it isn't the first time that I have heard something like this though. I have learned that unless you have fought depression or have been close to one (and I mean close) to one fighting depression, you just don't get it. The darkness and torturous demons of depression are real. Feeling unworthy of any one's love constantly being hit over your head again and again has an impact. Feeling like people may be better off because of all the pain you cause has an impact. Feeling dark, hallow, and miserable over and over has an impact. I have been on the ledge of suicide with my heals over the ledge just standing on my toes teetering too many times to count. Why? In the darkest abyss of depression when suicidal thoughts come strong, it's not about courage or being a coward or being selfish ... it's simply wanting the pain to go away. I understand why drugs and alcohol come into play with those that have depression. They simply don't want to feel the pain. Why haven't I succumbed to suicide? I simply don't know, but I know. Makes great sense, huh? I guess for me, I remember feeling what hope felt like before depression knocked me off my tookis. I fight everyday to feel it again some day.

~ "If anything, I guess we could learn from this to reach out to those more that have depression." Isn't it sad that we have to lose someone to have an epiphany like this? It's quite easy to believe no one loves you when you sit all alone all day without someone sending a text or call or dropping by. Being alone simply wears one thin. I get it though ... "what do you say to someone that has depression?" "What if I say that one wrong thing that makes him kill himself?" "What if? What if? What if?" We don't expect you to come fix us. In all reality, that is up to us and nobody else. The psychologist and psychiatrist are the ones to give advise for "fixing", even with the help of meds. We simply need a huge support group of love. The best conversation is talking about anything but depression at times ... simply knowing we have someone that cares. Any type of act out of love, that may be deemed as "small", actually speaks volumes.

Too many people wear masks hiding depression, and some too ashamed to go see a psychiatrist or psychologist about it because of the awful stigma around it. I am in shock about all the articles / blogs floating around today, written by people that haven't experienced depression, adding to the stigma. There have been incredible articles / blogs giving tremendous insight on depression as well. My heart and love goes to all those that are fighting this disease. It Sucks! I know it is dark, but the only way we know what darkness is like is because some time in our life we have actually felt what light or hope was like. For me, I will strive to keep on fighting.  

Hold On, Let Go

I'm the youngest in my family, which brought many perks and struggles growing up. First, let me just get this out of the way ... yep, there were times when I got a little more attention and/or "things". Some may call this spoiled. There were also the struggles that came along as well, like being the test dummy in many crazy thought up ideas by my older siblings. Do I believe in miracles? Sure do, otherwise I'm not sure how I survived and that was just what happened inside the house. We played a lot of football in the front yard and with two older brothers and their friends, I was the runt of the group. Oh, and by the way ... we didn't believe in that two hand touch stuff. Needless to say, I was always trying to impress the the giants around me by not really caring about my body by taking on anyone to tackle, or diving for a ball. At first I wasn't the best receiver, I dropped more balls than I caught. Just getting a ball thrown to me was a rare honor. One game, I was standing in our driveway, which was also the end zone, calling for the ball. I was excited to see the ball thrown my way, but it was a bit high. I jumped up with my eyes closed and the magic moment happened ... I caught the ball. I put the death grip on that ball, holding it so tight while excitement shot through my body! The person defending me was quick to point out I was out of bounds. I pretended to be upset, but truth be told I was still flying high holding tight to the ball.

My football playing days began to dissipate as I grew older, being replaced with basketball. Perhaps this was due to my older brothers and their friends being able to date and drive. Even though I missed playing football terribly, I believe part of me was okay with not being tackled so often. Basketball was tough, but there was no tackling, which was nice. My friends and I began to spend a lot of time playing and even admiring the NBA players. Notice how I said, "admiring" even though "idolizing" was not a far behind. In fact, there was a rumor that my friend and I skipped school to go to the airport to see Michael Jordan because we found out the time the Bulls plane landed. I will not confirm nor deny ... he was one tall dude though! There is a strange thing that happens when playing basketball as a kid. Most of the time is actually playing the sport, but there is also a small amount of time when you are your buddies take turns seeing who can be the closest to touch the rim. As we got older and most of us grew taller, the incredible day happened ... I touched the rim. Not far behind that day came the moment of bliss. Not only was I able to touch the rim, I was able to hang on it with both hands. Talk about a triumphant feeling. I was ecstatic and did not want to let go. This was my moment, that I had worked on over and over. My friends were happy for me at first, yet once they realized I wasn't coming down, they started talking about how they wanted to keep trying, so I finally had to let go.

As I have fought this depression war, I have had an incredible psychologist that has assisted me with learning to cope and claw to move on. Incredible people have given me advice as well. The majority of the times I spend a lot of time pondering about what has been told to me ... some advice I look at and just smile. Lately, there has been a recurring theme that I hear. The biggest message I hear is to "Hold On" while some tell me to learn to "Let Go", and then the few that tell me to "Hold On" and "Let Go." My knee jerk reaction to the last advice is to tell the person to stand up and sit down at the same time and wish them good luck. As usual in my life, the more I have thought about it the more I realize the "Hold On, Let Go" principle is spot on, but how the heck do you do that. I need to hold on so I can let go? I need to let go so I can hold on? I need to let go, hold on, let go and then hold on some more so I can let go? Now, I know the obvious is to "Hold On" to all the good things around me. That's great ... add the dark glasses of depression and seeing those things are quite difficult at times more often than I would like to admit. Then there is the obvious point of "Let Go" of the bad things in life. Well, right now that "bad" thing to me is my mental illness and getting rid of that would be awesome ... yet right now seems impossible. I used to be a huge fan of the saying, "Only Focus on what you can control. The choice is up to us how we handle the bad things of life." What happens when that "bad thing" alters how I choose at times? I can't control when falling off the cliff of deep dark despair of depression. I can't control when anxiety takes me over like a puppet holding the strings. Yep, this is how my mind works. So how do I hold on and let go?  For me, I have learned that I hold on to love. That may come from divinity, family, friends, even people I have never met. Love that is shown is far more powerful than simply said. Letting go is more individual I believe. Right now, my "Letting Go" is a huge monster facing me every day. The odd thing is that I know what to let go of, but the how is the monster. I'm learning that what I have defined as something so awesome, like hanging on a rim, reaches an end. I'm learning that holding on to love is easy and hard. Seeing love can be difficult at times, compared to see a football coming at you, but either way when you have it, don't let go.  

The Crying and Ride of My Life

In my teenage years, I had the opportunity to experience the "lovely" dating scene. The best way to describe that period of time would be to say, "It was the best of times and worst of times." I had my share of being dumped, which is far from the feeling of fun. I have also been on the other side of doing the "lets be friends talk." I had been dating a very good looking girl and things were going good ... did I mention that she was very good looking? Well, I'm not sure what came over me, but I felt that I needed to break it off because I couldn't really see any future. Crazy right? Was I growing some type of thing called "having character?" One evening we decided to go to a drive in movie and I was determined to break it off that night. The movie began while I got my courage up and began the "lets be friends" talk. She buried her head in my shoulder and cried the entire movie. Did I mention that the movie had just started? Yep she cried the entire time.

Though the crying was quite frightful, I experienced something quiet scarier when I was younger. A good friend of mine and his family invited me to go with them to an amusement park. I had been to this amusement park before and was quite excited. We had fun riding this ride and that ride and came to a ride that was new ... "The Colossus." This was a roller coaster that had you go incredibly high, followed by doing two loops and all sorts of sharp turns. Needless to say, I declined the first invitation to go. After much pushing and prodding and some comment about acting like a wimp, I gave in thinking that I had lived a good life. Standing in line I was able to watch two or three rides watching people scream, cry and other noises I wasn't familiar with. Let me just say that didn't help, but I was line and couldn't back out. The time came and of course, my friend and I were up by the front. After everyone was buckled in, the terrifying clicking noise began taking us to the top. I truly thought I was going to die. Reaching the top, the terrifying clicking noise ended and the coaster did a free fall down the track. I was swung every possible way and I think I even made noises I had never made before. After the terror began to come to an end I realized I was going to make it.

Mental illness is the most understandable, mysterious illness I have ever had. Yep, I know that I have been fighting depression, anxiety, ocd and ptsd for many years. Wait, did I say "ptsd?" Yep, that one I feel the most ashamed for because I never was in the military. Let me just say that it is very real and I hope someday, I may be strong enough to open up more about it. I do know that I fight these things daily, every hour, and at times every minute. I work on it every day striving to learn and apply coping techniques and am even adjusting my meds a tad striving to be able to handle "life." What I have fought lately, is the mentality of "aren't you better yet?" I find it interesting that people that don't reach out to me or want to be in any part of my support group, tells me that they have a friend with depression and they are "better, what's taking me so long?" Mental illness is just starting to be recognized that is something more common amongst us all, yet it is so individual. I would love to be able to see when this will end for me, but I don't have that luxury. Trying to do so gets very dark. Imagine going through hell not knowing when it will end. There is no vacation from it. Yes, the size of the jail cell may get bigger at times, but the bars are still there. How I wish I knew it would be over. Having a girl cry on my shoulder was difficult, but I knew the movie would end. Feeling complete terror on the roller coaster was not fun, but I knew it would end. For now, I can't see the end. I just focus on today and am thankful for loved ones.

I Have Money On This Game

I was fortunate enough to grow up in a family where I had cousins that lived close and cousins that visited often. On one of these great "get together" events, we went to go watch one of the local college basketball games. If I recall correctly, it was the first time I had been to such an enormous event. There was certainly two facts I learned when I walked into the arena; I was small and it was huge! I don't remember much of the game, but I do remember me, my two older brothers and some boy cousins getting permission to go get a drink, or go to the bathroom or whatever excuse it was to get a break from sitting down for so long. Apparently, we were very interested in the game. The main hall that circled the arena was empty leaving it to us to do as we please. I believe we circled the building a couple of times running and walking acting like we somehow owned it. The time came though where everyone was getting tired so we actually stopped for a break at a drinking fountain. Now being the youngest amongst this group, I was always last at doing this or doing that and at times had to forgo somethings I wanted to do. Well, it was my time to get a drink and the group started yelling at me letting me know they were taking off. I firmly held my ground and reached up and got a drink at the fountain, yep I was quite young and short. After feeling refreshed and content I held my ground, I looked up and I was all alone. I laughed it off thinking, my brothers and cousins hid themselves somewhere, but after a while it was clear that I was on my own not having a clue where to go. I must have had that "oh crap" look on my face because it wasn't long before a person that worked there asked me if I was lost. I was embarrassed to admit it, but was glad I had been found. This gentleman took me to the nearest usher and asked him to help me find my family. I will never forget the usher's response, "Really? Can't you get somebody else? I have money on this game." I can't tell you how awesome that made me feel. I can't remember how I eventually ended up with my family, but was surprised at some reactions. My sweet mom of course gave me a huge hug, but an uncle of mine got on my case pretty good for getting lost. After that he truly dropped down the list of my favorite uncles. Yes, I had made a choice to get a drink and not follow the group as they took off ... that was on me. I would take my mom's response any day though. As far as the usher, I hope he lost his bet.

Through out the battle with depression, I have found it difficult to really describe what it feels like and does to me. On some occasions as I have attempted to do so talking to some good friends, I have gotten the response, "it sounds like you have forgotten who you are?" I would agree to that at first, but always felt uncomfortable about it and didn't know why. Now, if someone tells me that I kindly inform them they are wrong and here is why. To me, forgetting who you are comes with making choices that lead you down different roads of travel that take you away from "who you were." For example, I may have been quite the gifted magician, but if I stop performing or practicing I lose my skill/touch and become more familiar with the man that used to do magic. Another example, if you are a Bible reader, The Prodigal Son is a great example. A son that gets his wealth and spends it unwisely forgetting who we was. In both examples, it was the choice of the individual leading them down a road where they forgot who they were. I DID NOT PICK DEPRESSION nor have I forgotten who I "was." I remember him too well. In fact remembering "that person" can hurt because I want to be able to do those things I used to be able to do, yet I have come to terms that dealing with today's battle is where my focus needs to be. To quote my dear usher friend back at the basketball arena, "I have money on this game." I've got everything riding on me that I will get this war of depression under control, by winning daily battle after daily battle and eventually win the war an enjoy winning the bet.

Did You Just Call Me a Bully?

I remember one fine day, I was walking down the large hall at my Jr. High minding my own business. The regular chit chat was happening, the same kid was being chased by the Vice Principal for who knows what this time, I had just walked by the lockers of some fine ladies actually getting a smile, and was headed to my next class. A group of larger guys that were in my same grade was coming up to my left, but being that we were at the top of the food chain, being the oldest grade I kept walking by. I never had any issues with them. Imagine my surprise, as I flew across the hall ramming into some lockers, no doubtingly creating the dents of all dents. Upset, I looked over at the guy that shoved me. Yes, he was large and yes, he was with his friends, yet, I gathered all my courage and looked at him ... and walked away.

Bullying somebody is honestly an act or emotion that I just can't get my brain wrapped around. As I have thought about the kid that gave me a free ride into the lockers, I actually feel bad for him. Did he feel so insecure about himself that he needed to provide "dominance" by hurting others? Is that how he gained his ever fleeting self-esteem? Intimidation, too me, is such an act of cowardice. You're bigger than me, or you think you're far more wiser than me, so you strive to hold that over my head to make you become some type of "better" person. Really? Needless to say, I don't like bullying and have made it one of my missions in life to ease that pain for anyone that I have witnessed receiving the bad end of it. And yes, you would think that lack of character would be out grown as adolescence goes adios, but sad to say, even adults can still steep so low as bullying.

Last week I had the pleasure of sitting on the leather couch I have gotten to know so well, visiting my Psychologist. We talked about different things and I received those lovely opened ended questions that I so love (feel the sarcasm). At the end of the session, he told me to be nice to myself and stop being a bully to me. I smiled as I left, but could not get by the point of me being a bully. That was like one of the ultimate low blows to me, but I understood where he was coming from. Case in point, I can walk around my house and yard and only see the "things" that I want to fix that have been calling my name for years. I can sit on the couch and contemplate my life, and the only things that call out to me is what I'm not "succeeding at." I can look at the mirror and only see the spare tire around my belly and finding a fourth chin. I could keep going, but I will stop. It's very easy to stand on the foggy edge looking down the slide of depression and falling down over and over. The pain is real and sadness is real, that comes with depression. I find it interesting that one of my "missions in life" about stopping bullying, I struggle with doing to myself, yet I needed to hear it. Even though, I abhor the negative and darkness of depression, understanding (not living) it more and being aware of it more, actually brings clarity to the steps and actions of working to be healthy. By no means is it easy, but to climb any stairs, it's always nice to see where they are.

Ted The Lion

There once was a lion named Ted. His actual name was Theodore, but being called Ted seemed to fit him better. Now Ted, was like any lion. He enjoyed running around, resting, wrestling other male lions, resting, flirting with the lady lions, resting and of course eating.

One day in the midst of his running, he felt a sharp pain in his back right paw. Falling to the ground, he looked at what could be causing such pain. In his paw, he saw a large thorn deeply wedged into it. Getting up, he tried to put weight on it, but the pain was too much. He reached back attempting to pull the thorn out, but it was too deep ... he figured he couldn't do it on his own. Embarrassed by the whole situation he walked back to his home only using three legs. He could only imagine how it looked to others, but there was no pain.

Days went by, where Ted just stayed home not wanting to deal with all the questions he would get about why he looked so funny when he walked. He would get frustrated and try to pull out the thorn on his own, but couldn't do it. Other lions came by asking why he hadn't been out and about. Ted was getting very good at coming up with clever answers.

After months had gone by, Ted was tired of hiding the thorn. He realized that there might be other lions out there with thorns as well that might be embarrassed. So, he made the announcement that he did have a thorn and was struggling with dealing with it. He got numerous responses of how proud the lions were of him sharing about his thorn. Ted felt good hoping he would be able to get his thorn out soon.

One afternoon, a friend of Ted's dropped by to see how he was doing. Ted showed him the thorn and how deep it was and how bad it hurt. The friend gave him a hug and told Ted that if he ever needed anything, to let him know and left.

Another day, a friend dropped by to see how Ted was doing. Ted showed him the thorn and how deep it was and how bad it hurt. The friend told him how much he cared about him, but didn't know anything about thorns. Ted never saw that friend again.

Ted had a close friend that would constantly come by checking up on him. That friend didn't have the best memory and would begin to wrestle with Ted hurting his paw. Ted liked his friend, but was growing tired of hearing his friend explain, "I don't know why I do that ... sorry." Ted liked the friendship so still hung out with his friend, but had to remind him every time about the thorn.

One friend would come by often and just spend time with Ted. They would fight the thorn together hoping to make some head way. After the attempts, the friend would stay with Ted and just hang out being a good friend recognizing how hard it was on Ted.

One morning, Ted looked at the thorn and saw all the progress he and his friend had made with getting it out. He was truly thankful for his friends strength. Ted looked at the thorn giving it one huge pull. Surprised, the thorn came out. He knew that he had to keep trying on his own, but he made no mistake of it realizing he couldn't have done it without the help of his friend.

It's All Up To Me

In my early twenties, which was not too long ago,  I had the pleasure of meeting a drop dead gorgeous lady at the church I was attending. Not only was she beautiful, she was an amazing person as well. There was a huge potential problem though. The church I was attending was made up of single folks. Yep, that meant there was far too many guys that were interested in this fine lady as well. I was able to do some digging and was able to get her phone number. I still remember to this day the phone number because I dialed 6 out of the 7 numbers hundreds of times not hitting that last digit because I was terrified! Now I had learned in my young life about the word "delegation" and even the word "favor." I had several good friends that would have called her for me, but how would that really look. Plus, even though they are friends, the looks of a gorgeous lady has incredible powers. I knew that I was on my own with this one. So, I dialed the 6 numbers and took a deep breath and hit the last digit. The ringing began and so did the fast beating of my heart. When she got on the phone I was literally out of breath. I must have sounded pretty ridiculous, but she did not hang up. I even got up the courage to ask her out but she said "no." I usually like to end the story there because it sounds so priceless, but she said "no" because she already had plans. She then proceeded to ask me out for another day but I had to say "no" because I had plans. Side note ~~ There you go sweet heart. It is in writing :) ~~ Needless to say we were able to iron plans out and we have been dating since ... yep, even after that marriage thing she will still go out with me and she still takes my breath away. So what did I tell her why I was out of breath on that first call? I told her I had been running around the house taking care of things ... yep, pretty lame.

So, I still meet with my psychologist twice a month and he still has his leather couch. He has stopped having free beverages in the fridge in the lobby ... perhaps it is because I always joked with him that if I was in the neighborhood I would always stop by and take one. My psychologist though is awesome. He has helped me get through the thickest walls and around the deepest holes in my life. I still suffer from depression and loneliness and of course the anxiety kicks in at the most inconvenient times. Lately, we have come across some "things" that I am working through. One of the toughest things for me is when all is said and done, it feels it is up to me to work on coping mechanics, it is up to me to be willing to share my deepest thoughts always, it is up to me to fight the beast of depression, it is up to me to keep taking meds and meeting with my psychologist ... it is up to me to fix my mental illness because in the end who can do that for me? With depression chasing the drive away to really do any thing at times, that "finish line" of getting through this appears farther away, even out of sight. When this happens, the roads of escape speak loudly. Yes, I suffer with this and is stinks badly. So does anything help? For me ... yes. For any others that may be fighting this battle let me just share what gives me a small glimpse to keep fighting. Not lose sight of my support: my sweet wife, awesome kids and few true friends. They can't do the "work" I strive to do to keep getting better but leaning on their strength when mine is gone is amazing. Not lose sight of the "I'm All Alone" danger zone. Yes, there are things that only I can do but it DOES NOT MEAN that I am all alone. Not lose sight of Divinity: I often look up and tell God that there is no way I can do this on my own. Simply recognizing his strength, mercy and love help me. Well these all sound pretty good, huh? They do, but for me are easily chased away as my depression kicks my tail. Yet, the thing I can control is keep trying every day ... like dialing six digits. I know that I will be able to dial that seventh digit someday and will totally be out of breath but making it will be worth it.

Trust, Forgiveness and Leo

Leo was a young man that lived in Noseville. Now Noseville was a village that had people with all kinds of shapes and sizes, from tall to short, skinny to ... um not skinny, big heads to small heads ... hopefully you get the picture. However, they all shared one perfect thing and that was they all had the perfect nose. What made it perfect? Great question. All of their noses looked the exact same. Well, as Leo started to approach making that change from boy to young man his nose slowly became deformed. It looked nothing like it was supposed to and even didn't work right. He was mortified and didn't know how to react. The good news was that Leo was a expert at disguise and created the perfect nose and was able to cover his deformed nose so hardly anyone knew. Only a few friends and his family were aware and even amongst them he still wore his disguise. Rarely would he take it off. One horrible day, Leo received news that a new law was passed in Noseville that anyone wearing a disguise would have to remove it. Leo was sick with worry. A close friend of his that new about Leo's deformed nose came to check on him. Leo was distraught taking of the disguise telling his friend that he couldn't do it. His friend proceeded to tell him that he was aware of the upcoming law. Leo was upset. He asked why his friend didn't let him know or fight for him. His friend got upset and punched him in the nose making it more deformed telling him his nose looked ugly. Leo ran to his family telling them what had happened. He felt comfortable around his family. Days passed and Leo wrote a letter to his friend telling him that he forgave him but he broke his trust and simply couldn't trust him right now. Leo was sad and missed his friend knowing it would take a while for the trust to be earned.

You may be wondering if I have gotten my hands on some bad meds and am writing this talking to pink elephants coming out of the walls. Know that is not the case but perhaps it gives a glimpse of all the crazy stories in my head at times. I share this because I have been thinking A LOT about Trust and Forgiveness. As I have fought the battle of mental illness I have had things said to me that have been pretty ugly and hurtful ... some that were clueless but others that were intentional. Now, I have a pretty thick wall of steel I keep up around me that I rarely take down but I have been burned by some after I have taken it down trusting them. I have watched movies when a person is in a tough situation and they laugh saying "I've got to go to my safe place" and mentally go there. Sure, I kind of chuckled at that. I have learned though that will depression I have to have a safe place. A place that I can breath and relax and not feel in harms way. I have been in situations where my "safe place" was impossible to get to and let me just say my mind doesn't hand it well. My brain will start looking for avenues of escape be it short term or permanent. Yes, I have had ugly things said to me and I do get to a point of forgiving them ... but the trust is gone. It is not like I am holding a grudge, it is me knowing that I can't trust being around them especially being away from my safe place because I have no idea what my brain will do and that scares the crap out of me. I work hard everyday hoping that someday I will be able to take off my disguise and be okay with it.

The World of Wants, Needs and Shoulds

I remember as a young one my sweet mom taking on the daunting task of teaching me the difference between "wants" and "needs." I found that the basics was pretty clear about food, water, oxygen, roof over the head, love etc. Things became quite blurry to me though when it came to toys. I remember seeing a yellow Tonka dump truck that my other friends had and I was positive that I needed it. In my mind I was 100% certain that if I had that dump truck that my happiness would increase immensely and having happiness had to be a need right? In fact, this was around the time my mom was teaching me how to pray. I remember kneeling down by my mom saying my prayers and at the end asking for the yellow Tonka dump truck. Well, let me just say I learned a couple of lessons from my mom. My mom helped me see that I would actually live without having the truck and that giving thanks during prayer and praying for others rather than a dump truck was always a good thing to do.  Well, I can say that over the years the line has been pretty clear between "wants" and "needs" with only a handful of blurry occurrences. About six years ago I went out to get some milk and came back with a computer. There has been only one time in my marriage where I thought I was going to have to sleep on the couch and that was it. I tried to find a positive side to it thinking maybe she won't send me out for milk again. Needless to say that didn't happen ... I just have to promise now that I will only get milk or any other things we need.

The first time I met with my Psychiatrist she asked me "what do you want to do today?" I thought the question was a little odd since she was the one with the "Dr." in front of her name. She could read my perplexed look on my face and asked it a different way, "before this day is through, what do you WANT to do?" I was perplexed again. I thought about certain foods that sounded good, kissing my wife and playing with my kids. She then asked if I liked movies and when was the last time I had seen one. I like movies but the last one I had seen had to be one of those animated kid movies. We talked a lot about a variety of things that day but she gave me the assignment to go see a movie. Sad to say that cool Psychiatrist retired and I met with another one who ended up having one of the coolest sayings on her wall ... it reads "Today I Will Not Should Myself!" One thing I found out very fast meeting with my Psychiatrist and Psychologist was that I wasn't allowed to use the word "should." This made answering questions or having any conversation quite interesting. I have learned that being a people pleaser I live in the world of "I should" so there is no balance when it comes to I want, I need and I should. Living in the world of "I should" brings no happiness at all because whatever you do it wasn't the "correct thing" because you should have been doing something else. That is quite the tornado to be caught in. Every morning I think about the things I want to do and the things I need to do and strive to keep the balance. Most of all I listen to what my body is saying during the day and work on making the right adjustments. I actually get a kick when a person tells me that I should have done this or shouldn't have done that. I usually tell them either I didn't want to or I didn't need to and watch their reactions. I will say that helping people in need for me is in the "want" category and who knows maybe someday I will buy two Tonka dump trucks ... one for a person that's down and one for me.

Dear Ken,

Below is a letter I wish I would have had as I started my journey with depression, anxiety, OCD and PTSD. Yep, I am going to be quite open ... my hope is that it will offer any help to those that may be suffering from these, which is often done in silence. If I am able to at least help one, then this was well worth it.

Dear Ken,

First and foremost let me tell you how ruggedly handsome you are even with that patch of hair that is missing on top of your head and that salt and pepper look you have going. Nice job with the belly as well ... maybe you will be able to be Santa Claus some day.

Let me begin with shedding some light on some feelings you have been having lately that you haven't told anyone about. You know the ones I am talking about ... while you've been driving to work lately the temptation has really grown to drive your car into any cement post you can find preferably at a good rate of speed. Then there are those times when you are at work that you just want to stand up and run as fast as you can into the cement wall. Lets not forget the part of the day that you actually hate the worst and that is the end of the day. You have been staying late triple checking all the accounts you worked on to make sure they were done properly and yes you have repeated numbers over and over and over out loud to make sure they look right. You will actually get to a point when you have to say them 20 times in order to give you any sort of comfort. When the day is done and you have finally got to a point when you can lock up your desk you will check it at least five to ten times. You will even get out to the car and turn around and come back and check your desk again. These actions are not normal Ken. Something in your brain is trying to tell you something!!

The time will come when one day, with the help of your wife, that you realize you are not yourself and that you need to get some help. THIS IS OKAY!! I do want to be upfront with you though and tell you that the lovely ten year career you have worked on so hard will end up coming to an end. I know this will be hard for you to hear but its best you know right up front. You will end up seeing a Psychiatrist and a Psychologist. You'll end up giving the Psychiatrist the nick name of the drug dude and the Psychologist the talking dude. You will meet with the Psychologist first for about a month or so and then the drug dude. Certain meds will be offered by the drug dude but you really struggle with taking meds because you have no idea what they may do to you  ... you know all those kind "side effects". You think they would use a smaller font to make the list smaller. You decide to go with the meds route with the hope that it will add some stability to all the ups and downs you are feeling. You will end up trying several different types trying to find the right mix for you. BE PATIENT and pay attention to some of those side effects. One will happen which I won't mention keeping this letter rated PG but the other will take you lower than you were before. Now I know that is why you didn't want to try at first but you will find the mix that works the best for you. Little advice, you will get asked A LOT about how you feel from the drug dude as you take the meds. You'll kind of get tired of it because you really don't notice a difference except for those two side effects. The advice ... ask your wife is she notices a difference of behavior as you do the meds. She will notice a difference! Stay with your talking dude too ... he will end up helping you a lot!

Let me be very bold with this next statement ... you are going to feel a HUGE amount of guilt as you fight depression, anxiety, OCD and PTSD; GUILT ONLY COMES AFTER YOU HAVE DONE SOMETHING WRONG AND YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG HAVING THESE FOUR THINGS!!!! You're going to feel foolish for having PTSD because you didn't go to war or anything but believe me when the episodes hit they are ugly but you will make it through and they will eventually subside.

Ken, depression has a powerful way of making your very insecure! You will doubt everything in your life from your faith, friends, the future, the love of your family and even loving yourself.  As these doubts continuously attack you loneliness will consume you. You will fight feeling like a failure as you think about the future hoping to support your family again. You will see "friends" conveniently disappear. You will be left alone. You will base your self worth and how much you are loved by how many people reach out to you and visit you. Logically you will know better but you will fight the demons of loneliness. Some of your family simply won't understand ... one will even tell you to become a PE teacher because they don't do much trying to help. Some will even say they don't know how to show love. There will even be times when you go visit family that you simply disappear and almost disappear for good. There will be times when you support your wife and kids to go visit family and you are left alone. You will long for visits but only one will show. You will see that you have a voicemail all excited but it's a message about your meds being ready. The loneliness will become so dark that you hear the demons telling you to end it all and your strength to resist is so low. Yes, dude ... the times get dark and I wish I could tell you when it will be over but I don't but DON'T QUIT!

I will say this though ... I am convinced that you will be a better man for this. I know that's like saying getting a colonoscopy everyday will make you a better man not knowing when it will end. I can tell you that as you open up attempting to stick it to the man of depression that many will approach you telling you they have suffered in silence for so long and that you have helped them. As you experience the folks that just tell you to lighten up or really don't believe you or care just think about the effect you are having on others in your same shoes. 

Lastly, you will doubt God a lot but you will learn that He and The Savior love you unconditionally. You can't earn their love because they already love you!! There are a few that will stay by your side and show the love. Your kids and your wife love you and when you feel the darkness approaching spend time with them and give them hugs it will help.

Stay strong good man. You are worth loving and even though kind of goofy you are a pretty funny dude! Take it minute by minute if you have to but know that I care!

Love you dude!

Ken

A Bagel is Not a Donut

I love donuts! I can't think of anytime in my life when I didn't like donuts. Do I have a favorite? Well, yes I do ... thanks for asking. Growing up I was introduced to the Hostess raspberry filled donut. You know, the one with the sugary coating. The one that comes in a pack of six, which made it fun growing up in a family of five. Well you would think my mom being the adult should get it but she was always so giving. So, it usually went to one of the four kids. Of course, we would always "try" to remember who got it last time but there was always a purposely fuzzy line. I will admit that I liked that donut so much that if there were times the last donut was still remaining I would enjoy every last bite knowing I was going to take a bullet for it and not get another one for a while but it was so worth it ... at least that's how it seemed until mom bought another pack and I was not allowed to have any because of my recent action. Anyway, I digress. As I got older I was introduced to other donuts and they were awesome but not as awesome as the raspberry filled slice of heaven. I really can't recall where I was or the circumstances that lead to the position I was in but I remember having to pick my breakfast on one occasion. I remember seeing what looked like a donut and was rather happy with not only picking one but picking two. As I put them on my plate they seemed a bit hard but I thought perhaps it was a different style of donut I hadn't been introduced to. I sat down ready for my two donuts and took a big bite. Let me just step aside here for a moment and say that my family never had bagels growing up, it was just one of those things we never had so I had no idea what one was. So, you can imagine my pure disappointment when I took a bite of a bagel for the first time thinking it was a donut. I remember thinking how dry it was and how bland it tasted. I missed my raspberry filled delight. With a smile I was educated on the fine arts of a bagel and how with butter, jam or cream cheese as it's friends it actually wasn't that bad. I personally like the strawberry cream cheese. Years down the road my incredible wife and beautiful girls moved to the East Coast. One of the first things I did was check to see if Hostess items were sold here, which they are but for whatever reason they didn't and still don't sell raspberry filled donuts. I was introduced to krispy kreme though before they ventured back west so that's how I justified it was okay. Every time I made it back west though I looked for those Hostess donut treats.  Imagine my luck though ... last trip back west was when Hostess closed it down for a while so I didn't have any raspberry filled moments of peace.

I often wonder what things would feel like to experience ... like being able to fly or swim to the bottom of the ocean. What it would be like to play a gig in front of thousands of people or make that last second shot in an NBA game. My imagination takes me all sorts of different places and I absolutely love it but it can only take me so far. I can close my eyes and play the meanest guitar rif pretending I am in Wembley but it doesn't give me the fullest experience. In fact, I never have played on any stage like that nor am I close enough to playing like McCready so do I really know what it would be like? What about other situations in life that I haven't experienced. Can I understand or feel what they are like? It would be interesting to have two folks give their feelings what it would feel like to get pulled over by the cops ... one that actually had and one that hadn't. What do you think their answers would be like? I can tell you for sure what it feels like on more than one occasion due to the heaviness of my right shoe. Some may say that the "Nurture vs. Nature" debate would help with this and I would agree. So why share this? Let me chat with my friends that are fighting depression. For me, I have found that there are different kinds of folks when they learn that you have depression. There are folks that don't know what to say but have the courage to put their arms around you and tell you how much they love you. There are the folks that don't know what to say and keep their distance relying on time to pass for you to "get better." There are the folks out there that think you are weak and should just be able to build up your self-esteem with positive thoughts and don't give credence to any mental illness. There are those that have depression and give as much love as they are able to give. Sad to say that I have found that you are mostly left alone with a few that share as much love as they are able to. This consumed me and still does at times but I think back to taking that bite of the bagel. I had no idea what it was and really didn't want to until someone helped me see how to eat it. There are A LOT of folks that don't know how to deal with depression and are kind of freaked out about it. I am slowly coming to grips that there are those bagel people out there that just don't know how to deal with friends or even family with depression and that is okay. Depression is weird ... having so much love and support helps bring happiness yet relying on people eventually brings disappointment and sadness as the lonely hours pass on. So where do you find that line? To be honest, that is what I am personally working on. My friends with depression. There are days when I know the only thing I can count on is the sun coming up the next morning. I thank God for sunrises! Eating a donut watching a sunrise makes it that much more peaceful too.

Looking Through Broken Eggs

In my late teens I had the privilege of working at a locally owned grocery store. As I mentioned in a previous post one of my responsibilities was to drive the milk truck. I also stocked the dairy and was the freight "receiver" in the morning. If I remember correctly, I would start the day around 5a or 6a, work until about 1p as the receiver and then come back around 3p to stock the dairy. The shifts weren't that great but overall I enjoyed my job and was earning money. Looking back I learned a lot of things at that lovely store. I learned that I really am not a big fan of getting up early on winter mornings especially as a receiver because that usually meant I had to dethaw the frozen locks on the gates for the trucks. Yep, just me standing in the dark in the early morning with a lighter by a frozen lock ... good times. I also found that if a pallet or cart of freight fell over as a trucker was unloading it off his truck that I preferred that freight to be things soft like toilet paper or paper towels. However, I never fully got what I preferred. I saw a large pallet full of soda fall over with soda going everywhere and cans flying in the air if they hit the ground just right ... had to take cover on that one. My least favorite spill was that of the rack of eggs that tipped over while it was being unloaded. Everything went into slow motion but nothing could be done. The rack hit the floor hard causing all sorts of damage to the eggs. I was convinced that by the looks of things all eggs had been broken and it was a lost cause. Now let me step back here for second and tell you about the rack the eggs were in. Each rack had around five shelves. Each shelf held about 120 or so carton of eggs. Do your math there and that's just a hot mess. Well, I did my least favorite thing and told my boss what had happened. I knew the fault was not mine but my boss would not be happy about the loss. I informed him I was sure it was a total loss. He paused for a moment and instructed me that another employee and I would need to go through every carton of eggs looking for ones that survived, wash them off and place them in a new container. Of course, I knew how long that would take and really wanted to ask him if he had been smoking something funny but I smiled and told him I would get right on it. I asked a dear friend of mine to help me, which at first I'm not sure how thrilled she was but we got to it. As we started we looked at the whole mess and knew that we would be there forever. Looking through the mess we found damaged egg after damaged egg and I felt that it was pretty much a waist of time but then we started to find eggs that had made it. We focused on conquering shelf by shelf and even began to laugh. When it was all said and done we were covered in egg goop, a lot of time had come and gone but we saved a good number of eggs. Plus, we ended up having the time of our life. I look back at that memory often and think of things I learned. To this day I can't crack an egg without thinking of the great crash of eggs.

I have had some time to think about "hope". I have reflected back in my life when I have felt it. I have looked at my life recently and have thought how hope and depression interact in the field of life. To me, hope is more than just an interesting idea to bring flashes of optimism to folks. Hope is a principle or a fundamental truth. As I looked back on my younger years in life I feel like I had limited hope because my outlook was on specific ending events. Let me give you an idea of what I mean. When I called a girl to ask her out on a date I would hope with all my might that she would say "yes" or "I was hoping you would call you handsome man." No matter how the call went, when it was over my "hope" for that event was over. I certainly feel this type of hope is okay but can be rather roller coaster like if it's all based on life events. It either makes you happy or sad in that moment or event. So, to me there has got to be more. Something that brings hope, peace, happiness. My belief is that stems from and grows with one's view and relationship with the Divine and that He loves me. When I have had disappointments in my life I have been able to have the perspective of what matters in life and find hope and peace. Now, throw in depression. For those that view depression as just being down or sad let me shed some light on that. For me, depression puts a choke hold on hope and does not like to let go. I try to look at life with the Divine perspective yearning for hope yet the choke hold continues. Is all hope lost then? Depression strives to make you think so. Life is pretty ugly when you feel that all hope is gone. Why try? Try because there is hope out there!! Via my psychologist, via my psychiatrist, via family, via loved ones, via Divine thoughts I am learning to work with the hairy beast depression. I have come to grips that for now he will be with me but that doesn't mean that I will give up and be a tumble weed to him. Sure there are times he will kick my tail but I am fighting back. Why? Because in the moments of fighting back I have felt glimpses of hope and it was awesome!! I have come to learn that just with the eggs of hot mess I have to go through carton after carton. There may be times when all the eggs are broken but I keep fighting because I know that I will find those eggs that weren't ruined. I keep fighting because I have felt hope in the midst of battle with depression so I know that I can feel it again. Yes, I know that dark and lonely times may be ahead but I also know that hope is out there too. I fight that someday I will be able to shift the balance of feeling more hope than darkness. No matter of what hot mess we may feel like we need not quit on ourselves. Yep, we have a sucky illness that can rob of us hope but he can not rob us of keep trying!

Watering Trees and the Belch

Growing up I had the opportunity to help with a Church orchard. If I recall correctly I picked apples, peaches and cherries. Every time I picked one of those lovely fruits it had three possibilities. I would gently put it in the basket I had on me or close to me. I would eat one, which I had to be sneaky about. The last was the funnest for me though and that was to throw it at one of my siblings that was close by. I found that taking a bite and throwing it was just as rewarding. I would love to say that most of the picked items made it into the basket. I would also like to say that I have a private jet and own the Seattle Seahawks. As I got older the greater the responsibilities came with the orchard. There was the task of having all the trees watered. Now, this was not done by me just holding a hose and watering each tree. The water for the orchard came from an irrigation ditch. Irrigation ditches have all sorts of levels of joy with them. The first is the schedule. The schedule isn't a 9a to 5p situation. It runs 24/7. So, the orchard always seemed to be scheduled for 2am when I did it. Another level of joy was figuring out when to shut the plethora of metal gates so all the trees got watered and you didn't flood the neighboring homes. The first metal gate you shut would be the main one that shoots the water down a ditch in the orchard. From this ditch you can open / close metal gates to water the different rows of trees. Knowing when to close the ditch to a row of trees was always the struggle. If you wait to see the water hit the last tree there is still tons of water that will be coming down the row. If you guess to close the gate too early the last couple of trees don't get watered ... and of course doing this in the dark. The real joy came though when you and your friend would be sitting in church and you would be thanked for a great job AND no water escaped the orchard and flooded any homes. Only once in my many irrigation tasks did I hear about water bonding with homes ... not so much joy.

One of the consistent messages I have been given from my psychologist over our three year bonding time has been "listen to your body." Of course, I have had fun with this telling my sweet wife that my body was telling me I needed a Coke or even better I needed a kiss. There is great importance though of this message. Just like an athlete that has hurt a knee or ankle or pick your injury, they have to pay attention to what their knee may be telling them. If they keep pushing it they can actually do more harm than good. No matter how badly the athlete wants that knee to be healed he has to be patient. The nice thing for him is that people understand his injury offering support and patience as well. I personally enjoy keeping busy and have a hard time sitting still. Having my brain tell me that I need to slow down or stop for a while is something I don't enjoy. Too many times I have just kept pushing and pushing and yep, I have paid for it. I have learned that if your brain needs a break and you don't give it one it will take one on it's own. So, what does it mean to listen to your body? My first thought was a belch of some sort and of course as I asked my little guy what he thought he confirmed my thinking. For me, I have learned that when I have a hard time keeping focused, being very impatient than usual, losing control of my thoughts, becoming extreme introvert and on the verge of tears for no reason ... to name a few,  I know that I need to pause. I might be done for the day or maybe feel okay in an hour but listening is crucial to my getting better. For a person that enjoys doing projects, organizing "stuff" and constantly keeping busy this has been extremely frustrating for me. I am learning that being good friends with patience is something that will be of great help to me. I wake up and start the day not knowing what I will be able to do that day. I know what I want to do. The struggle is knowing what is too much since it can vary day to day. But if I am careless and keep pushing on I potentially can "flood the houses" and the many steps forward I may have taken I take several steps back. I wish that I was listening for the belch but having patience lets me grow and I am finding hope with this.

Planes on Fire and the Shaggy Carpet

I had the pleasure of growing up in an era where the plethora of technical gadgets we have now were simply non-existent. We had an Atari game console with few games and we had a computer that allowed me to play one on one with Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. Those "amazing" magic time wasters came a little later in my childhood though. Most of the time I was left with my siblings and our imaginations. We spent a lot of time riding bikes, playing games in the yard and other activities outside ... some we will just say weren't the most safest events. That was the danger of using our imaginations though. In my childhood home we had a fireplace in the living room. We rarely used this fireplace because it was more for atmoshpere (or romance as I got older) because the heat would all be drawn to the living room and leave the rest of the house cold. So, to have mom give the okay to use the fireplace was a grand event! On one occasion, as my two older brothers and I watched the fire one of us came up with the coolest idea. We would make paper airplanes and stand back about six feet and see if we could throw the planes into the fire and watch their demise. Quickly, we gathered paper, made some planes, slowly opened the chain-like gate and began the "fun." I recall not getting many planes in first but then we became pretty good ... probably because we got closer. It was awesome to watch the planes hit the brick in the fireplace and crash land into the fire and burn up. When we realized the flames were different colors with different colored papers we knew we had to get more paper and all sorts of colors! Before we could act on that though our mom walked into the living room. Needless to say we were taught in a firm yet loving way about how dangerous it was what we were doing. We instantly followed with our rebuttal of how safe it was ... purely motivated by how fun it was. We told our mom that the planes simply went into the fireplace, caught on fire and that was it. She simply followed up with the question, "what happens if a plane catches on fire and flies back into the living room?" We had nothing. Our mom was kind enough to recognize our point but also helped us see that pretty much everything in the living room outside of the fireplace was kind of flammable, especially the green shaggy carpet. The airplanes were taken away and we sat and watched the fire and as any young boys would do after they had been corrected by their parent of a dangerous act we fought the temptation to secretly go get more paper to make planes.

Most of my life I have lived by the principle to just keep quiet when I saw some sort of "injustice" happen. This could range from somebody saying a snide remark about someone behind their back to some sort of incident in a public setting  ... or even that unkind person sitting behind you in the movie theater constantly kicking your chair. I didn't like conflict and immediately attempted to stray away from it even if that meant not saying or doing anything. That has changed over the past few years though. It's not because all of a sudden I have this deep love for conflict. I still despise it. But I despise even more the acts of those that think they can "get away" with things by intimidation, threats, fear or pure rudeness. My sweet wife is helping me see that I don't have to take on every injustice that I see ... but to pick my battles. There have been plenty of times when she simply puts her hand on my knee and smiles at me letting me know that I need to let this one go. I have thought a lot about why I have had this change and I think part of it is vulnerability. I have thought long and hard and have even studied the word vulnerable. I have found that for me depression breaks down any walls I have had to deflect anything against me and makes me so vulnerable. I have had something said to me that wouldn't have effected me before depression came in that I have spent days even weeks thinking about how bad it hurts. It is like running into battle naked. After you get quickly taken down you are down for a while and then get back up still fighting with no armor. Yep, it is difficult. Thankfully with the help of the comfort of the leather couch and my psychologist I am learning to put armor on. I believe that is why I now stand up and say something when I see an injustice happen because I know how deeply it can effect people and they don't need to go through that!! My hope is that someday I will be able to be as strong as those bricks in the fireplace and not as vulnerable as the green shaggy carpet.

I Am A Better Swimmer Than Me

I enjoy going to the pool. There's nothing like soaking in the sun and then jumping in the water cooling off and then goofing around with the kids. I do have to admit that my favorite part of any pool is the four to five feet deep section ... just enough water to make you feel like you can swim but not too deep to be above your head when you need to stand up. My swimming techniques differ but they all have the same outcome ... I sink to the bottom of the pool. The is no natural born floating for this guy. When I was a kid this was tough because the majority of my friends were like fish and could swim at will. What a great feeling it is to be one of the few that stands on his tippy toes going as deep as he can while watching his friends swim in the deep section. I did have a friend that I will call Gus that was in the same boat as I was. In fact, my mom and his mom signed us up for swimming classes one month in the summer. We were pretty excited about it with the thought that we might be actually able to swim. Now, when I was young my close friends called me Jones. That was a nickname that was given to me and just stayed. To this day, my life long friends still call me Jones and as you can imagine Gus called me Jones the entire time we had our swimming class. Well, I worked really hard at doing everything the instuctor asked us and when all was said and done I still couldn't swim and neither could Gus. There was some disappoinment but we weren't really too surprised. The last day was a pretty cool day to us because we were allowed to wear a life jacket and jump off the diving board into the unknown deep part of the pool. That was a blast! We also were told that we would be given report cards for the class. I remember the instructor calling "Kenny" so I walked up and received my report card. I wasn't too surprised that I did really good with participation but the "results" section had a lot of "needs improvement" notes. A couple of others were called up and then the instructor called for "Jones." I looked around knowing that we didn't have any one in the class with that name and as I looked up to the instructor he was curiously looking at me and motioned for me to come up. After sifting through the confusion we quickly realized that the instructor thought that Kenny and Jones were two different people. To my surprise the instructor had filled out a report card for Jones and he thought that Jones was a far better swimmer than Kenny.

Through out my young life, and yep I said young, I have had some medical procedures done that have given me the opportunity to be admitted to the hospital. Some stays were short and one required spending the night. I have had loved ones that have experienced the same. There are those that have been given the news of a certain horrific illness that hits them and their loved ones like being hit with a truck. To this day it is very touching to think about the visitors that come by bringing flowers, cards or even those "perfect" gifts because the friend knows the one in the hospital or the one dealing with bad news well and knows what will either touch them or make them laugh. The loved ones visiting will stay for a little while talking about whatever and then leave sharing their love. Staying the night at the hospital really isn't my top things of life to have experienced. There is always those machine noises, people walking down the halls and then my absolute favorite (feel the sacrasm) having a nurse help you use the bathroom. The repeated calls and visits even after getting home makes the recovery time that much easier to accomplish. With my last job I was out for a period of time after a medical procedure and I even received a card from the Regional President wishing my luck in my recovery. He even sent me a card when my dear Grandma passed away.

After I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety I remember coming home with my sweet wife. I joked about it a bit because that is usually how I deal with news like that but inside I was terrified. Per my request, I wanted to keep that news quiet so my wife and I only told a select few ... some family members and of course my work needed to know since I would be out for an undetermined time. I recall walking around the house aimlessly thinking about what having depression and anxiety meant for me, my wife and my awesome kids. I was scared not knowing what the future would bring. I fealt alone looking at this dark road ahead of me. Well, three years have come and gone and progress has been made step by step fighting the entire way. I find myself thinking back about those first days and think how much flowers, cards, those "perfect" gifts and visitors would have helped out immensley. I didn't even get a card from the Regional President. Now, I will be the first to say that we didn't make it known so how would people know to do such things. I understand that point and admit that one is on me. I'm going to take that lovely trip now walking out to the limb I know and love ... you know, I'm stepping out on a limb here. Some may not like me for what I am going to say but I do it for a purpose. Last October I had enough of keeping it quiet about fighting the beast of depression and anxiety and told everyone. Hey, I even started a blog. My FB friends let me feel the love by their reply the day I announced it, which was awesome. I am going to let you guess how many flowers, cards, "perfect gifts" and visitors I got and still receive. If you are leaning to the side of "alot" you will need to lean the other way. I amazed how people will only take the time to ask you how you are only when you run into them. I understand that some people stay away because they don't know what to say or don't know how to show the love. We don't want you to fix us ... we just need the love. When you go visit someone in the hospital you don't tell them or the doc what they need to do to "fix" them. You go to console and show love by being there and just shooting the breeze. I am starting to feel the limb I am standing on starting to crack so let me step back here. Let me say to those few that have stepped up and have showed the love for me and my family. THANK YOU!! I simply don't do this to call attention to me saying that I need flowers, cards, gifts etc even though a taco and Coke sounds good :0. The point of all this is to help the majority of people that are out there that can offer love and help to those that are mentally ill. They need you! We need you! Those that are mentally ill and are keeping it a secret because you feel ashamed ... share it with others. Give them the chance to love you. My hope is that we can hear more and more stories about when someone was diagnosed with depression that they were flooded with flowers, visits, cards, gifts etc cheering them on giving them hope! Remember they need you. You may feel like they are good swimmers while deep inside they are frantically treading water not sure how much more they can do.

Will You Go With Me?

I have to admit that in grade school I had several crushes on girls. My first "girlfriend" was in kindergarten. I don't recall her name but I was delighted when she agreed to be my girl. The only stipulation she gave was that it would only last for half an hour. That was an awesome half hour because I could say that I had a girl friend. As I grew older and was still in grade school I was introduced to the idea of the invitation note. You know, the one that reads something like. "Amy, I think you are cute. Will you be my girl friend?" On the bottom of the note one would make two boxes ... one that had a "yes" by it and one that had a "no" by it. I used this clever way several times and most of the time they would come back with an additional box that was made by the girl with a "maybe" by it. That was always troubling and quite irritating to be frank. If I wanted her to answer "maybe" I would have included said box. Then there were the times when the note came back with that magical "x" in the "yes" box. What happened next and would last for days on end would be that we would totally ignore each other. If we saw each other we would smile but not say anything. If our friends made us stand next to each other during recess the awkwardness would be so thick no earthly thing could cut it. Then came along sixth grade. I had a crush on a girl I will call Sandy and I hadn't let it been made know to my friends or through "the note" so we were actually talking with one another. One day Sandy told me that she had heard that another girl I will call Jane had a crush on me and that I should ask Jane to be my girlfriend. So like any young boy would do that had a crush on a girl I told Sandy okay because I was in a mind set of doing anything to please her. Sandy even challenged me to ask Jane face to face and not use a note ... and of course I said, "sure." I really had no idea what to say so Sandy told me to just simply say, "Will you go with me?" Apparently that was the way to ask a girl to be your girlfriend. I was scared to death but again my allegiance to my feelings of trying to impress Sandy was strong. During the day the class was given some free time and with the urging of Sandy I approached Jane and asked her if I could talk with her. She agreed and we went to the back of the classroom. I went straight to the point without beating around the bush and asked her, "Will you go with me?" Jane looked a bit confused and then asked, "where?" I had to back step a bit being taken back by her answer but then explained my question. She did tell me yes and so the awkwardness began.

I have often heard folks say never look back but keep looking ahead. To be honest that statement has always brought me confusion. I see the point of not wallowing in the past mistakes of life but isn't it important to learn from history especially are own individual history? As my world began to be turned upside down and my mind to run off kilter immensely I had never felt so alone in my life. I was VERY fortunate to have one close to me that knew what I was going through and was there to help anyway he could. His insights were helpful but the most helpful thing of all was knowing that there was someone out there knowing what I was growing through and that I wasn't completely alone. As my depression and anxiety came to a head I had so much doubt in everything, so much confusion, so much pain, so much loneliness, so much darkness, my energy was gone, I felt my purpose was long gone ... I felt like I had lost any value and could be easily tossed to the curb. My heart hurts for those that are just beginning to experience this. Those that have just been diagnosed with depression or those that are wondering what on earth is happening to them and why they feel the way they do. The loneliness can come so quickly and does a heck of a job convincing you that you are the only one dealing with this and you have no idea what to do. All you know is that you just want it to end. Let me tell you that YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS! I can tell you that there is a Divine love for you but I understand that with your world upside down and so dark that you are confused why that doesn't help as much as it used to. Don't be ashamed for feeling that!! Depression can create deep powerful dark emotions that for me led to me to doubt everything. I have walked through that thick tar and I can say I have found a love from Him I had no idea existed, but it took time and it took work. For now, know that there are many that secretly fight depression that love you and support you and are cheering you on. Know that as you try to look forward at the questionable journey ahead and if you asked me, "Will you go with me" I would say absolutely friend!

I'm A Sir!

As I graduated from college I knew that new adventures awaited me. I looked forward to take all that amazing knowledge I learned from all the many hours of having my nose in the books and applying it to the "real world." Many fun adventures began to occure but I noticed an unexpected one that began to be more and more consistent. My first job gave me the opportunity to use the phone a lot and I mean a lot! That is where I began to notice this strange phenomena. In the midst of my talking to both men and women I noticed I began to be called "mam." I laughed this off several times as it began but as it continued I really began taking a good look at why this happened. I do admit that I don't have a Barry White type of voice but I don't have a high voice either. I also realized that if I said my name "Ken" fast that could be taken as "Kim." So, in my phone conversations I made sure I over emphasized my name and even attempted to talk lower than I usually do. This actually did reduce the times be called mam but it still happened. Imagine making an appointment on the phone and the client ends the call by "sounds good mam." Showing up for the appointment after that happened was always a delight ... since they were expecting a woman. I also began to recognize this happening as I would go through a drive through of a fine fast food joint. Again, as I pulled up to make a payment or get my fine food the facial reactions of the fast food employees were priceless. A year or so later I began a new job and part of my excitement was hoping to leave the "mam" craze behind but of course it followed me. I interacted with a lot more people with this job, which made it quite interesting. I would have people come to my office telling me that they had talked with a woman who was going to assist them with something and had made an appointment ... yep, that "woman" ended up being me. The experience that topped them all was when they would call me "mam" to my face and quickly recognized their error and apologize; yet, they still called me "mam." This has followed me and continues to follow me. One may wonder if this would get annoying and if it would shake the rock of my manhood. Well, yes it got really annoying and I'm quite comfortable with my manhood. Times I would let it slide and other times I would quickly correct them not really caring if it embarrassed them or not ... especially in the drive through. I found that I would be saying loudly, "thank you and I am a Sir!" Anytime anyone is with me when I go through the drive through and I get called "mam" they always bust up laughing. I am handling it better now and usually play along with it. I have to admit there are times it still is like someone scraping their finger nails on a chalk board but I do admit it is a kick to see the facial reactions of the fast food workers as they are expecting a lady and they see my handsome mug talking in a low british accent.

I believe I am comfortable saying I have far less shame of having depression than I used to. Even though I have opened the doors wide open to it I still fight some feelings of shame like I am less of a person for it. The thought of admitting to someone that I have depression used to bring so much fear and anxiety that it would alter my daily events but it's getting better. Mental illness still has such a rigid stigma associated with it. I have found that you can explain over and over what you are going through but some just don't understand it ... not to a fault of their own in most instances but because it is something that is seems so mysterioulsy unknown. Imagine if there was an illness that when one was diagnosed with it they were admitted to a health center and no one ever talked about it. Then over time people began to pay more attention to it because more and more people began to have it. There were still others that just didn't understand it though. What if this illness was the common cold. Everyone catches a cold, right? What if they didn't? Imagine if there were countless people that never had one. Try to explain what a cold feels like ... this liquid stuff comes out my nose and sometimes my eyes. Sometimes I can't even breath through my nose and I have this bad pain in my throat. There are times when I feel very hot and then very cold and then very hot and very cold. Even my ears have pain in them at times. I really don't even no how I got my cold. People that had never experienced a cold before may look at you like you have five heads or some may attempt to empathize but can't because it is the first time they have heard of such a thing and they just don't no how so they prefer not to be with the folks that have colds. However, there are others that have had experiences with loved ones having colds so they are more understanding and know how to help. I have learned that depression is so similar to this. I hope and pray that more attention can be brought to the mentally ill. That the stigma will be chopped down piece by piece. There are times I hear things about depression that are so off base but I just don't have the energy to say anything and let it pass. Then there are the times when I see the understanding of depression getting traction and I get so excited! Yes, I have experienced the negative judgements folks can make and have been labeled before they really sought to understand. I have also experienced those that have sought to understand first and how incredible that feels. To my fellow friends that fight depression. I know we all handle it in our own way. That's what makes this fight such a struggle at times. There is no blanket way to help everyone at the same time. I have been on this journey for three years while some are just starting while others may have been on their journey for years. I have learned that quick judgements will be made, labels will be thrown our way, lack of understanding is prevelant and at times I just feel like yelling "stop judging me, I am fighting depression" just like times I want to yell "stop thinking I am a woman. I AM A SIR!!" I acknowledge your pain. I acknowledge your suffering. I acknowledge the many questions. I acknowledge the darkness. Don't be ashamed for having depression. For I also acknowledge that we do have purpose and that I love you! My prayers are with you on your journey and I hope you never get called the opposite gender in the drive through.