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.

Iceberg Dead Ahead!

One summer when I was a teenager a good friend of mine and his family invited me to go water skiing with them. We spent three days or so at a lake having an incredible time. At night we would camp on the sandy beach preparing for the next day. I learned a couple of things about camping on the beach. No matter how hard you try, sand has a way of getting everywhere and I mean everywhere. Not a big fan of sand in the sleeping bag. I also learned that putting sun tan lotion on your feat is important too. My friend and his family had a boat so we spent a lot of time out on the water. They were all avid water skiers and then there was me. I was amazed at all the techniques shared with me of how to get up out of the water and have that magical moment of getting on the skis for the first time. You give them the nod, the boat engine revs ups and then boom ... being drug along the water hoping you wouldn't lose your swim suit again. I actually never did get up out of the water on the skis but I did have a blast on that trip. As do all awesome trips do, this one did come to an end. As my friend and I helped break down camp, my friend's dad gave us the assignment to take the boat to the boat ramp once we had all packed up everything into the truck. He and the family would drive down to the ramp while my friend and I would take the boat out one last time. Of course, we were happy to oblige. The time came to get on the boat and my friend realized he hadn't put in his contacts yet so he grabbed his contacts and we headed to the boat. I stood watching the water and the beauty one last time soaking it all in when I heard my friend say, "uh-oh," I turned back to look at him and he was winking at me. I stood silent not really knowing if this was a sign that some good looking girls were coming or what. He rubbed his eye and then told me that as he was putting in his last contact it blew off his finger into the water. We both kind of shrugged it off and got in the boat and he asked me to be the look out to make sure that we didn't run into anything. Needless to say I laughed since I was blind as a bat and was in a stage of my life that you really wouldn't catch me with my glasses on. We both laughed as he hit the throttle heading us out to the water. In the previous days of fun we knew where the boat ramp was so we weren't too worried about that but my friend still thought it was best for me to still be on the look out. In the midst of traveling we both saw something white ahead that looked rather big. He slowed down a tad as we approached with caution because he didn't want to damage the boat. We shared different ideas what it could be from a big tube to who knows what but it was something we were sure we would have to go around. As we approached the unknown object we busted up laughing. The mysterious humongous floating danger turned out to be a white Styrofoam cup floating on the water. What do you expect from a guy with one contact in and the other guy that couldn't see for the life of him. We both agreed to not tell anyone about that experience and of course have shared it numerous times.

I have found that as I fight depression and anxiety that I get easily overwhelmed and overwhelmed fast. This can come from what I can see in front of me, the great abyss of what I can't see in front of me, or my favorite (feel the sarcasm here) is the time when I am so overwhelmed and it takes work with my psychologist to find out why ... I am not a big fan of that one. I will say that looking back at what I have worked through can give me strength and  some hope. May I comment quickly that I do want to emphasize "worked through." People simply can't see all the hard work we do that fight depression. I have found that extremely frustrating. I love doing projects around the house and folks can see the hard work it has taken and how it has really paid off. Well, all the hard work I do with fighting depression can only really be seen by me. My psychologist can see when I make some progress and those close to me can see some as well but I am really the only one that knows how draining it is and how it can simply rob you of your thoughts and time as it begs for your attention constantly. Having depression has given me sight to the darkness of mental illness, which is terrifying because light and hope is very hard to find. As I have fought for that light and hope I have learned to see things differently that has been a tremendous help. I don't have to perfect and that is okay is one of the insights I have learned to know ... I had heard it many times but now I am learning to know it. I still get taken back by the "small" things that may seem so tiny to others but literally kicks my butt and I end up working on and working on and working on. What may be a simple Styrofoam cup to many can be huge icebergs for us that fight depression ... and of course we won't tell you about them because we may be ashamed of it or just don't have the energy to explain so much. I promise that there are so many that are fighting icebergs out there that need that little touch of love. For my fellow iceberg fighters I'm here to help chip away anyway I can.

Sit on the Pot and Keep it Balanced

When I was a youngster in high school a good friend of mine and I decided to take a weight lifting class. Now, the reasons for doing this ranged from being able to tell girls we were in a weight lifting class to actually trying to get buff. Of course though, the biggest reason was for the ladies. The first couple of days brought all sorts of emotions and feelings but the strongest feeling was pain. As my friend and I would walk up to those lovely weight lifting machines we really had no clue how they worked. We sure pretended like we did but we had no earthly idea. We would always let the other guys waiting for the machine behind us go first so we could get some sort of glimpse of how to use the darn things. When we took our turns we really didn't want to look like wimps so we usually left the weight the same the person was using before, which ended up reeking havoc on our muscles. I became pretty good at showing others the weight I was lifting wasn't that bad at all but holy crap was I hurting. The nice thing about the class was that it was during the period right before lunch. I lived close enough to the school where I would run home for lunch and take a shower. Doing lunch at home was always a shooting match though because there were times I just didn't leave on time to get back to school which would end up getting that lovely tardy thing checked. Who knew you could fail a class for excessive tardies ... I mean I was there and doing the work, right? Anyway, those first couple of days of lifting were brutal. I remember taking a shower after the class and not being able to raise my hands above my shoulders. My friend and I were hurting in a bad way but it always felt good to tell the ladies that we were lifting weights. Eventually we did end up learning how to lift correctly and made it through the class. As the class came to an end the only thing I ended up with was a six pack and an understanding that the ladies really didn't care that I lifted weights.

You know, as I look back on the years I have suffered depression I have learned a lot about it and myself ... and still am learning. For me, it is truly like having your world as you know it turned on it's head and you left to figure out what happened and what the next steps are. I have no earthly idea if I will ever be able to "go back" to the person I was and truth be told I really don't know if I want to. There are characteristics about who I was that I would be okay leaving behind allowing me to be healthier. I do hope and work to be the good parts of who I was. Understanding depression for me isn't an easy thing to do. Sure, you look it up in the dictionary and it talks about sadness, mental illness and such but for me I think there is so much more. For me it's been striving to find the line between what emotions are caused by my depression and the emtions I feel from just experiencing everyday life. There is the question of why loneliness is so prevelant an emotion I feel daily and why it crescendos so rapidly if I haven't heard from any one for a day let alone my friends. There is pain in loneliness that truly hurts and can hurt badly. I remember watching a comedian once who was telling what his mom would tell him to do if he was in pain. "Oh, your stomach hurts ... go sit on the pot. Oh, you have a headache ... go sit on the pot. Oh, you have cut your elbow ... go sit on the pot. Oh, your finger was cut off ... go sit on the pot." The way he said it made me laugh til I was crying. Too bad it just isn't that easy. I recently was talking with my psychologist about the pain of loneliness and expressed how I feel I need more love from others besides my wife in my life. He did one of those smiles and told me that I am making progress. Of course, I sat back on the leather couch thinking oh man I have finally broke him. He then proceeded to help me see that in my journey how perhaps I have made a step forward or so. This one I will keep close to my chest for now, maybe sharing later when I am ready. I wish that meant that the pain would be gone or that I could smile and mean it more. I am immensley glad and full of thanks though to have someone professionally to talk to and even though I am hurting he can help me see that I am taking a step. For me there is a clear distinction though between "working through the pain" that came with weight lifting and learning to tolerate the pain of depression. Sad to say, there are still too many that think one can work through the pain of depression. It just is simply not that way and those that think otherwise are just showing their lack of knowledge and understanding. In fact, that mentality actually hinders more than anything. That's all the attention I want to pay to those folks for now. Anyway, for me I have learned that I am the extreme of all extremes. I either give until there is nothing left to give and after that still try to give or I extremely dislike the world and pretty much everyone in it. Even though  pain and I seem to being spending more time together lately I know that I took a step to finding the balance and that is something that gives hope to keeping hanging on.

That four letter word ... "Goal."

January is the month where a plethora of variety of resolutions / goals are born ... and later that month are usually broken. I am proud to say that I have completed one of my resolutions, which was to enjoy a nice cold Coke. Call that bad boy done and put a check by it. In fact, I think I will pause a moment and exceed my goal by filling up another cup with that fine beverage as I write. I am back and that sip I just took was awesome. I have to admit that I am not a big fan of the word "goals." So often that word that was created to better us somehow brings more angst and disgust than anything. When I was nineteen years old I went to the great lands of Seattle Washington to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, yep, I am a Mormon and enjoy being one. The only "measurable" goals I had experienced in my life before than was not to fail any classes in High School. Let me just say that I made it through with a little help from summer endeavors.  As I became a missionary I was introduced to numerous goals. They made sense to me. Basically they were to help any nineteen year old to keep the right perspective as a missionary so I had no problems with them. In fact, I got to set goals for myself that I felt I could accomplish. I quickly learned that one of the problems that may arise from goals is the person that tries to enforce them rather than love and help to achieve. I was introduced to a missionary, probably about twenty, who felt goals were not something to shoot for but achieve 100% of the time. I began praying to hit certain goals than actually be sensitive to those that could benefit from hearing the words of Christ and bring peace in their lives. One December, the other missionary I was serving with at the time, my "companion", and I had set a goal to baptize two people that month. We felt pretty good about it and focused on sharing the words of Christ. We were able to get a baptism but then the month was coming to an end quickly. I found myself praying more to reach the goal. There was one Sunday left and I prayed my heart out that we would hit our goal of getting another baptism ... notice I was so centered on the number I wasn't praying for anyone but for a check mark. Well, we showed up to church and miraculously there was a man that had showed up that we didn't know. My companion and I approached him and he turned out he wasn't a member of the church and was just visiting. I was so happy because there was a closer chance of hitting a goal. My companion and I talked with him briefly about baptism. In fact, after asking him a couple of times he felt it would be okay if he got baptized that day! Boom! Slam dunk on the goal! My companion and I left the gentleman for a minute and approached the Bishop of the congregation we were assigned to serve with. We were so excited about having a baptism and hitting our goal. I will never forget what the Bishop did at that point and what he taught me. The Bishop paused for a moment and then asked us what would be best for the gentleman, to be baptized today or later? I was shocked! What did he mean? Didn't he know that I had prayed for a baptism and now it was here in our hands, which I boldly told the Bishop. He paused and asked us again what the best thing would be for the gentleman. My reply was something about how I had prayed we would be able to get a baptism. The Bishop looked at me and told me that my prayer had been answered to get a baptism but was that the best thing for the gentleman to be baptized today and not perhaps later. We hadn't even talked to him about what we believed or what kind of commitments he would have to make. My hard heart focused solely on goals began to see what the Bishop was teaching me. I had completely lost sight of being sensitive to what the gentleman needed and really lost sight of why I was a missionary. I wasn't a missionary to check boxes on some list to look good to others ... I was a missionary to share with people the peace I had found in following Christ. We made several appointments to meet with that gentleman but he was a no show every time. I still made goals on my mission but I prayed for a greater ability to love and touch peoples lives.

Being that I am a little past nineteen years old now I have had my share of goals. Being a perfectionist, you can imagine how my list looked of personal goals ... I almost had to call them different chapters. I have also experienced having my foot in corporate America for many years and having "goals" given to me to accomplish. All I will say about that is having goals set for you by upper management that can't be accomplished just to look good for someone else is like them giving you the bullet to put in your gun and you shooting yourself in the foot. I better stop on that one before I light up like fireworks going off all at once rather than over a period of a half hour or so. Now, I believe it is important for me to note that I strongly believe in doing things to stretch myself to have me grow and I am the only one that really knows that ... you can call that goals if you want. I think that is how simple and real it should be. Throw depression and anxiety in the mix and you can imagine how difficult it can be as January comes around. I want to be a better person and I will work immensely hard on things that will help me grow but it will look different than what John Smith down the road is doing. What? We are different people and may be able to accomplish different things at different times? Thus, the other slippery slope "goals" can bring ... the exact same goals given to a group of people to accomplish individually with the best intentions possible. A wise man once told me that if you are "given" goals to accomplish and you do them to just do it ... don't. Do them for the right reason, which I feel is because you believe in them or because you feel like you can do them and won't bring an immense amount of stress. Isn't it amazing how having too many goals to become "good" or "better" can actually hinder more than help?  As I lay in bed every night and think about the morning, I know that I will wake up and find depression and anxiety waiting for me. Yep, there are days when I am not feeling up to the fight that day or begin it and just get my back yard kicked and kicked hard. Yet, I believe in being a better person and try it every day. Some days are better. So to my fellow friends out there fighting depression experiencing the feelings January can bring, know that I care about you and we can make it through this "fun" month. I will approach tomorrow with getting out of bed and then be happy with that. I will be the best I can and be happy with that. I think it is time for another Coke.    

Escape

When I was three years old my father left this world and headed off to the next one. I have few memories of him and of the funeral. Looking at the pictures of the funeral it is obvious that I really had no clue what was going on and the magnitude of the effect it would have on my life. Growing up the loss that I began to feel was created by seeing what dads did with their families and their kids. The loss wasn't created by losing a dad because at three years old I really didn't know what that meant. The good news was that I was born into an incredible family. I have amazing siblings and an amazing mom that went back to school getting her degree and getting a job to take care of her young family. We became very close very young because all we had at times was each other. Being the youngest brought what I like to call having both cakes and eating them two. First there is the cake of getting spoiled. Yep, I said it. Now notice I said, "getting spoiled" not I was spoiled. I do recall times of feeling a little extra special by my sweet mom. Second is the cake I call the warrior of attention. My sweet mom had to put so many hours in going to school and then teaching school because that is what she had to do. I don't fault her for that nor do I resent her for that ... it was what she had to do and I love her for it. With mom out of the house at times that meant it was us kids and even friends spending a lot of time together that led into precarious situations like a water fight with the hose in the house or a rock fight with the neighbors behind our house. I should digress for now. Being the youngest I had to fight for attention at times and at times I won but there were plenty of times I lost. I recall one experience when I had been losing the battle for attention so I had to up my game. I was the first one home from school for whatever reason so I gathered a couple of things and left a note I was running a way from home. Now, I knew better than actually running away because it was cold outside and I really liked to eat so I hid in a basement room. It wasn't long before my siblings came home and found the note. To this day I remember my oldest sibling letting out a cry in shock and dismay. She actually loved me I thought. A close friend of my siblings came by and they decided how they were going to go look for me. He did the smart thing and looked around the house first and found me. My first thought was how my siblings were going to get on me for doing such a stupid thing; however, I can still remember the love they showed me knowing I was safe ... it was kind of weird at first but I got used to it.

I think of that joke where a patient tells a doc that it hurts when they lift their arm to touch their head. The doc replies simply, "well don't lift your arm then." Escape is something VERY real for those that fight depression. The logic behind it is quite simple ... I feel pain and I don't want to feel it anymore. The interesting point about depression is how the dark sadness can just loom over you and follow you wherever you go without you doing one thing to bring it on. If you had a sliver in your finger the first thing you would do is get it out. How do you get rid of the pain that depression brings? There are meds out their that a Psychiatrist can give you to help. Talking with a Psychologist can be of great help as well. Just talking about it with someone that gets it can help immensely as well. Now I am going to step out on a limb here and I hope it doesn't break. Guys have a tendency to not want to sit down and talk about their "feelings" with anyone. I don't know if it is a testosterone thing or what but we just usually don't like to talk about our feelings. Listen up guys that may be reading this ... it is important to talk to someone!! Now, I will say that there are ladies that may be stubborn that don't like talking about their feelings. Listen up ladies ... it is important to talk with someone!! The pain of depression is real and I believe that not wanting to feel that anymore is quite the powerful emotion. People deal with this differently ... some may self medicate with alcohol or narcotics, some may sleep all day, some may consume themselves in so many unhealthy diversions, some may just run away, some may sadly take their lives and the list continues. For those that have depression, we wish that it was just as easy to not lift our arm to stop the pain. Escape from the hellish abyss of depression is truly that ... escape. Some acts may last for only moments while others are far long lasting that can't be undone. Have I escaped? Absolutely! But for moments here and there. I need to be clear here ... if you have thoughts about taking that avenue of escape that can't be undone, taking your life ... DON'T DO IT. I understand how appetizing it may look when all you feel is pain and that seems like the only path. Your mind is not in the right place when that temptation arises. Yes, I have been there and it scared the crap out of me. What helped me? Talking, talking and talking some more with anyone that would listen that actually cared. Feeling loved has an immense way of bringing hope that demolishes the temptation of ending it all. Taking healthy diversions breaks are crucial as well. Find something that you love doing and do it. Once you have done it, do it again and again and again. I have come to find for me that striving to get attention as I did by "running away" when I was a kid and escape are two different things. Attempting to get attention is simply that ... letting those around you that you aren't feeling the love and you are in need of it. Escaping is something that is usually done without others knowing it. Either way feeling love is what can cause both to dissipate. I know there are days and days that pass without anyone showing the love. The business of this world can rob folks of keeping their eye on the most important thing of sharing love for others. If you don't feel loved today, know that I love you and I pray that is enough to give you just enough hope to keeping hanging on.