20 Items or Less!

I enjoy grocery shopping. Heck, I will even whistle every now and then and even do it while trying to find an elusive product. I even stick to the list, unless I want something that calls out to me. I'm even okay with waiting in the check-out line if needs be. But you know, every now and then I just want to get a box of twinkies and a Frank Sinatra cd and get in and out. That's why I have a friend, I like to call the "Fast Lane" or "Express Lane" or even "20 Items or Less." Now let's address my pet peeve ... and I'm not talking about my pet, if I owned one! I have my box of twinkies in one hand and good old Frankie in the other while I walk up to the "20 Items or Less" check out with a big old grin. Most cases my friend and I get along, but then there's the time I walk up and someone is there with a cart full of groceries. I pretend to smile and start counting all the items in their cart. I'm cool with some overage. That can be expected. Yet, when double or triple the count of twenty occurs I find myself looking at the clerk, still with my huge fake smile now. Don't worry, I get it. There was probably no one in line and the clerk let the customer with the plethora of groceries come on over to them. If that's the case, it should be called the "20 Items or Less, Maybe or Maybe Not" line! Don't worry, I get it. I can hear the calls now of needing to be patient or taking the opportunity to be patient. Just a thought though, what if I did the "Express Lane" because that's what I needed or simply could do? What if there is man out in the parking lot with a fever and a cowbell isn't working, so the next best thing was twinkies and Frank? Ah, but just take a deep breath and you can handle it. Right?

I'm not a big fan of having a cold or some type of sickness that kicks me in the backyard and keeps me in bed for a couple of days. I like to be up doing things, accomplishing things ... just getting them done with. Every now and then I will try to get up, but the strength is gone. Even making it to the bathroom can be the mission of all missions, because there is no energy! Then that glorious day comes when the sickness has done its thing and it is gone! It's like hearing angels sing!

One area in my life that I let define me far too often is simply getting things done. Cleaning around the house, projects, the to do list (that I've created), even finishing orders for the little company my sweet wife and I have going. The list could go on and on. What I see me do, is usually how I define my value. Then the rollercoaster of mental illness kicks in. There are days when I just sit around thinking or bonding with my bed letting the hours slip away watching show after show on TV. Why? Because I'm lazy? Imagine walking around the house looking at every little thing that has to be done and you just can't do it. Thinking about every little thing that needs to be done and you just can't do it! I can tell you that sitting around just thinking or watching TV all day is like trying to take a shower because you've had the stank for four days, and all you get is a drip here and there of cold water. Some may look up at the shower head and say, "hey, work!" I bet that would do the trick.

For me, there isn't the feeling of weakness or no energy when you're ill. Or when you have that lovely sweaty feeling of pain. My energy level is up, it's just the will that has taken the blow. Will Power! Will Power! Is all I can hear when I search for any will to do anything. It's hard to suck it up and increase the level or power of "will" if it's simply not there. How demeaning and destructive when you want to do something so bad, but your mind tells you nope! Add to that the defining of me is by what I accomplish. Not a fun game to play! It may seem hard to grasp. I know it was for me at first, but now that I live it I can tell you it is real and is awful!

I'm still alive though and I plan to be! I'm learning and have learned to redefine what I call accomplishments and acknowledge what each day is looking like of what I can do. There are days that I get a lot done and I feel good about every simple one. There are days that I get a few things done and that's okay! Even though the judgement of society may label me as lazy on some days, I give them the finger (the pinky of course) and know sometimes it's twenty items or less and I'm fighting for that to be not only okay, but awesome!

Wait for it! Wait for it ... and Christmas is gone!

Putting up the Christmas tree with the smell of pine in the air. Having a rare fire in the fire place with stockings hung. Baking and decorating sugar cookies getting clever and competitive. Eating all the cookies my sister made for someone else and feeling the consequence. Listening to Christmas music as much as possible. Going to the mall and doing some shopping. Watching mom putting the final touches of Christmas around the house as she hums with a big grin. The first drink of Egg Nog. The second drink of Egg Nog. The third drink of Egg Nog and so it goes. Christmas Candy including chocolate kisses. Laying under the lit tree with all the other lights off in the house. Flying Lego Space ships around the tree pretending the tree lights were blasters. Listening to the "Christmas Fairy" record in the living room with all the lights off except the tree lights, on Christmas Eve with hopes of getting tired and sleepy ... knowing it won't happen. Laying in the bottom bunk watching the alarm clock, the old kind where the numbers aren't digital but flip when the minute or hour is up. Counting backwards from 500 to 1 hoping to fall asleep, but no chance. Hearing mom walking from her room down stairs and back up stairs doing that over and over wondering why she is tidying up at this hour. Seeing a red light in the sky not moving but swearing it's Rudolph. The anticipation growing and growing! Waking up realizing you had fallen asleep looking at the clock radio and only 13 minutes has past. The night that felt like 20 years. The anticipation almost beginning to hurt. Then miracles of all miracles, 6 am is here. Mom is awakened. Sister takes what feels like 7 hours in the bathroom. Youngest to oldest heads down to the living room. The anticipation is the strongest, but will be over soon. Presents are opened and thanks is given. No more presents are under the tree ... it's over. The anticipation ends and begins to be filled with sadness that Christmas is over ... it's gone. Back to "regular" life. The magic is over.

When I began this journey of mental illness, I was asked a lot how I felt. I had no answer for that question. I know I felt different in a dark way and really wasn't fond of it. Answering "sad" or "dark"just didn't seem to put it right. When talking about suicidal thoughts I was asked to rank the thoughts from 1 -10, 1 being the weakest and 10 being the strongest. I was always curious what the difference was between 6 and 7 or 9 and 10. How was I supposed to know? Oh, and then the meds. They can take 2 to 3 weeks of taking before any difference. So when it came to 2 to 3 weeks, I began to be asked if I had noticed any difference? And of course, I would be searching for that right answer because it's not like a pain killer, where BOOM you start quickly feeling better. I learned the best way to see if it was making a difference was to ask those around me. I remember trying several different medications to find that right mix to help me and one I took apparently influenced me enough to hum all the time when I really didn't know it was happening. That was kind of fun, but it had to go away. Finally, the "right mix" was found. Then I was beginning to be asked to think about my week and determine if I had more bad days than good days. Most of the time there were far more bad days than good days. More days than I want to admit me and my bed bonded and bonded and bonded wondering if the good days were gone. I can't recall if it was a year or two that I began to have more good days than bad. I liked those weeks, but they were few. As the years went by I continued to measure my weeks by bad days vs good days and it really went back and forth, but the constant was the dread and fear knowing the good would be over soon and would be back to the "regular" darkness. 

I was talking with a good man and friend the other day that has gone through what I am and he shared a thought with me. When fighting mental illness, your brain and the darkest of demons strive to convince you that life is all about the bad and dark days ... that is the norm. The good days are the anomaly. Hearing that reminded me of all the times I have had good days, but "knew" they would be coming to an end quickly or that they were numbered. Not a fun time! Back to "regular" life of suffering. Why even work on coping or fighting demons for just a little feeling of goodness knowing it would go away? Why? For me because it's worth it. If I can fight and have a victory of enjoying a good day that is a memory I can keep and no one can take that away! If I fight again and have another good day ... more in the memory. I'm not a big fan of saying, "just focus on the positive and all will be well." That luxury of life is either greatly weakened or gone with mental illness. Just saying to focus on the positive is really ignoring the illness and believe me, if you ignore it eventually it will get to the point you can't ignore it any more. Build the memory of good days!

I love Christmas and you bet I put my Christmas tree up before Thanksgiving! I love the Season and everything it offers and gives! I do remember as a kid being sad that Christmas was gone, but my mom was/is awesome! She had an incredible way of making Christmas more than that. As I grew older, Christmas was about every magical thing during the season and not just the day. Being older, when my siblings and I talk about Christmas memories it isn't recounting the sadness when presents were done, it is all about everything else we enjoyed and the crazy stories ... maybe another day I'll share some of those.

I really don't keep track of good days vs bad days any more. I fight to keep the memories of the good days and when the good days come I personally label them the norm and tell my illness and darkness to suck lemons ... you bet, lets stick with that, "suck lemons." When the darkness does come and fight me hard and kick my butt at times, I won't let that be the norm. I simply won't let it be the norm. One last time. I simply won't let it be the norm! The darkness will go away and the norm of a good day will come back. Another good day to build my memory of good days!    

The Force Doesn't Work Jerk! Next?!

I remember learning about faith in church when I was a young boy. To me and what my awesome little brain took in was quite simple; if you have enough belief in something it will happen. I thought this was the coolest thing in the world! It was like the force from Star Wars. Yep, I am honored to have been old enough to see those incredible movies when they first came out. Well, I remember sitting in the congregation as a meeting was getting ready to begin. I figured it was time for me to try this faith thing. Thinking about it I really can't tell you why I didn't try my new "faith" magic power at home. Anyway, the time was here. A song had been sung and a nice lady was getting ready to say the opening prayer. I bowed my head and closed my eyes preparing for this first great experience of faith. I closed my eyes tighter and began to repeat something over and over, "she will fall down the stairs. She will fall down the stairs." Yep, my first act of this great power was to make a lady fall down some stairs. I'm thankful the man upstairs is very forgiving. Now, I'm not sure if it was the anticipation or this kind lady was saying a lot, but the prayer went on FOREVER! Finally, she closed the prayer and graciously walked over to the stairs preparing to walk down back into the congregation. I watched on kind of nervous, but excited. She finally took the first step and nothing happened except walking graciously down the stairs. I was shocked! I was stunned! I was greatly disappointed! I looked around for another little minute and figured that was that and moved on to something else.

I have read numerous articles, blogs, thoughts, quotes, etc about mental health. I have experienced an epiphany here and there, have been frustrated, have been angered, have laughed til I about wet myself, and the list goes on. The point about mental health is that it is different in so many ways and so different from individual to individual. There are A LOT of opinions out there, and of course the lovely stigma that goes with it. At times, it's like I don't even want to read or study about it. Usually, I will just shake my head thinking, "wrong!" when I come across something so left field. And of course, it's my opinion on that. I get that. Every now and then I come across a line of thinking that actually makes me cringe when I read it. I actually feel compelled to comment about it every time I read it. Usually I don't, but then .... there is now. So the line of thought goes like this, "If you had enough Faith, you simply wouldn't suffer from Anxiety." Or, "If you had enough faith, your depression would be far less extreme." There are other variations out there, but I think you get the gist.

First, let me step aside for a moment and spit out some thoughts. IF and only IF, one is defining "Anxiety" in this line of thought as a little fear of something, or, IF and only IF, one is defining "Depression" as a little sadness, then I can give a little head nod here. However, and oh man do I mean however; if one is talking about mental health Anxiety and Depression they are carelessly bringing harm to many!! Why? Let me shed a little light here. Those that fight anxiety and depression and really any mental health problems think they really aren't worth that much. You may think I'm exaggerating, but the mind simply tells you over and over that you aren't worth much at all ... even a burden. It doesn't take much at all to explode any self worth that one has mustered up and fought for. Also, those that fight mental health problems have spiritual side effects. What do I mean? Imagine not being able to find a heavenly peace at all doing all the things you have done in the past to find it. "Man, God must be mad or must think I'm not worth anything at all as well" is the darkness of depressions biggest tool. So, if I'm told the reason I have these mental health problems is because my lack of faith ... boom! The impact is devastating to say the least!

Some other thoughts here. My take on this life is that we have hurdles, walls, skyscrapers to over come or even deal with the rest of our lives and having faith helps. Yep, that learn and grow thing. If it was all about just having enough faith though to make them simply go away there really wouldn't be a lot of growing going on. To me, faith is actually an act of love that we do. See, I simply can't close my eyes believing for something to happen, hopefully better than falling ladies, and do nothing. There has to be an act and it's an act of love because the faith is in the one with the greatest love, which is God. Making it through another day for the mentally ill is a huge act of faith! In fact, making it through a dark lonely moment is a huge act of faith! Saying one suffers from mental illness because of a lack of faith is simply a slap in the face from someone that simply doesn't understand. So, those that know someone with mental illness, remind them they are taking great acts of faith everyday! Remind them that over and over! And those out there that are fighting mental illness, you are awesome! You have an immense of amount of faith! I know it sure doesn't feel like it, but you do! You do! And that alone, makes you have infinite worth!

Hot Green Lava

There was a period of time when I was a young one that I simply couldn't wait to get up on Sunday mornings. My mom would like to think it was because of my excitement to go to church, but that would come later ... how much later I will leave a mystery. Now mother nature played a crucial role if Sunday mornings were awesome or merely an "oh man" moment. If you know me, you may think I would be leaning to a snowy morning. I would roll the dice on that one too; however, not so much on this one. You see, if mother nature was playing nice letting the sun do its thing, the sun would shine through a narrow window by the front door creating a long line of light about a foot or two wide on the living room carpet. Of course the carpet was a shaggy carpet and in this case green. As the sun would shine on the carpet the Hot Green Lava came to life. My older siblings and I would do all we could to stay away from the lava not wanting to get burned. In fact, my older siblings would help me ... yep, I said they would help me. After a while, like 5 minutes, we would begin to get careless walking closer to the lava, even pretending like we were going to step in it; yet, we would not go passed the invisible barrier. Now when the sun came through the big front window and pretty much lit up all the carpet, all bets were off as we danced on the furniture striving to deal with the Hot Green Lava chaos!

Through these past five years as I have met with my psychologist and psychiatrist spending a lot of time on the lovely leather couch, I have started and am still working on what I call my trigger map. My fine docs are really big about journalizing and when your done with that, journalize a little more. Why? Well, when the severe depression or anxiety kicks in you are able to write down what has been going on to see if something triggered it. Basically, you are finding the landmine of triggers out there and when you find one you know what to avoid. See, when one touches a hot burner, and I'm not talking about a cute person doing drugs in the 80's I'm talking about those things that get hot on the stove, you know that you don't want to touch that ever again. In fact, loved ones teach and help with knowing not to touch it. It will do damage. It's that simple! You don't hear a loved one encouraging one to work through the pain of the burn or will yourself through it. They tell you to stay away! So, for the past five years I have been building this map of triggers. Some that I simply have to stay away from and others that hurt, but am working hard on learning to cope. I have built huge barriers and or boundaries striving to protect me. Sadly, I wish that I could say that I have learned all my triggers, but I have found that is not the case. One example of my triggers is a quick change of plans. Sounds weird I know, but if something is planned and is changed the last minute or something just comes out of the blue I've learned ... well, let me just say that is like putting firecrackers in the fire. Imagine living a lifestyle or vacation like that. BOOM! 

I've also learned that these triggers don't play nice at all! What happens if they start showing up at places that you enjoy like church, movies, sports events etc. Nothing like going to church and having a trigger show up out of no where. You think Fight or Flight, right? 99% of the time is getting the heck out of dodge. Makes for a great conversation with your kids about the importance of going to church while you haven't gone for a bit and when Saturday rolls around the anxiety, depression, guilt ... you name it, starts coming in the game. What do you do? Survive and strive to learn how to cope understanding there is no time table. 

One last thought that I've been thinking about over and over. Lately I've come across the, "he's just acting like that because of his mental illness and he must be in a valley of his peaks and valleys." This comes after someone has carelessly knocked down a barrier or boundary. So, let me see if I have this correct. Someone has carelessly handled one's trust, which is GOLD to those that have mental illness, and their reaction is due to their mental illness. Apparently, their feelings have no meaning or value? "Oh, your acting like that because of your mental illness." So, if I like you is that due to my mental illness?  

Okay, so maybe one more last thought. Finding happiness while fighting mental illness is ... I'm really not sure of the word. I wanted to say tricky, but that just doesn't feel right. See, if you rely on people reaching out to you or letting you know they are thinking of you to make you happy, you never will be. Not because people are bad, but because you are relying on other's actions to make you happy. It will never be enough. This is an illness that no one can step in and do for you. You have the help of the docs and the meds, but they are there to support. You have to take the steps though and it's okay if a step takes a week, month or months. It's your battle, let no else give you advice they know nothing about. I know all this because it is what I have fought and am fighting through. I fight, but the support is not only nice, but important. Too many fall in "not doing anything because they don't know what to do." Does that mean the onus is on them for my success or getting better? Nope. Loneliness is a heavy burden for those with mental illness and feeling love and support can make a huge difference. Simply honor their boundaries. Let them know they are loved. 

Last Day for Shoes

Yep, I think I did it again ... came up with another cool band name. "Last Day for Shoes. Opening up for the Foo Fighters this Fall!" Okay, maybe not so much. Foo Fighters would have been an incredible concert though!

So it's been five years now since mental illness made it's big debut in my life. Early February is always such a treat reminding me of that great fact. Severe Depression, Severe Anxiety, OCD and PTSD is what I've been diagnosed with. PTSD? Isn't that for military folks only? That was my thought too, but I can tell you from cruel experience that its not. I usually keep that diagnosis close to the chest, because I feel like such a putz for having it. Thankfully those episodes are far and few between now. OCD is a merciless monster. Imagine being terrified of hugging your kids when they come home from school because of the countless germs that are on them. Imagine using a towel to turn off the faucet after you wash your hands. I mean you turn it on with your dirty hands, wash your hands and then turn the dirty faucet off with your clean hands ... I'm just saying! Imagine fighting to convince yourself that when you leave the house it's not going to catch on fire because of something you left on or did. Just to name a few here.

Well, five years has brought countless learning moments. As the time goes on and you're still fighting mental illness you see people start to think that you aren't doing enough and need more treatment. Especially those that are far away in miles or relationship. How does one get to make that call when they really have no idea what is the whole truth? Can I tell you how hearing "more treatment" is a kick to the gut! All that one has fought for, all the hell and dark demons one looks in the eye and keeps fighting simply goes poof. What you're doing isn't good enough. Great. Thanks! As the time goes on people turn more into the "fix it" mode than loving, caring and listening. Don't they know that as the "fix it" gear gets kicked in that the comfort of opening up is gone. It gets to the point that the only person that you can trust is your psychologist and he gets paid to do that. As the time goes on you can see how your loved ones are getting worn down by your inability of "doing your part." That being a blessing turns more into a burden. That knowing that the moments of not knowing how much more of this can be handled is growing ... hearing it verbally solidifies the burden knowledge with complete clarity. As time goes on, the principle of "they don't know what to do so they don't do anything" grows to all you know. You find that those that are "dealing" with you get more comfort and support than the one that is fighting mental illness. As time goes by, you find that when you are on your own for hours, a day or days that when the morning comes and you begin to put on your shoes, you may wonder if that is the last day you put on shoes ... if the beast will win.

I can promise that there are countless people that feel this way. I am more verbal about it, but so many aren't and suffer without anyone knowing it. Fight for them! Love them! Don't be part of the plethora of people that don't do anything because they don't know what to do. Don't be part of the group that thinks everything will just be okay. Fight for them!! Fight for them!!

What Happens When 2+2 Doesn't Equal 4 Anymore?

Yep, I have to admit that in Elementary School I had a deep love for math. Most of my friends at that time would say "lunch" or "recess" was their favorite subject. I would say that too if there were any cute girls around, but truth be told I loved math. I actually looked forward to "larger" problems. Bring on the four digit or five digit long division! That's right, I said long division. No calculator or anything. There was a guy in my class that had a calculator watch, which was cool in theory, but when he let me take a look at it and try it, those buttons were just too small. So on came Junior High and I was taught that the letters "x" and "y" wanted to participate in math. A little weird, but it all worked out. As I climbed the educational ladder, my love for math started to decline quickly. It seems like the whole alphabet wanted to participate in math and numerous "laws of math" came in the picture too. I think numbers got the raw end of the deal. Letters seemed a bit like a bully. I mean when do you see numbers becoming part of a word. Sure they are part of codes and things, but you don't see a word like 7hello5. It may give truer meaning, one may say. What about pronouncing it? Well of course, the numbers are silent, one may answer. Really? Oh and my absolute favorite reasoning by a teacher to do math, "You will use this on later in life." Most of the painful theorems and laws ... not so much for me! Now I know that many folks use math in their careers and that the "laws of math" have helped create incredible improvements in life. That's cool. For some, it bogs down and clogs the reasoning of math and for me at times even question if 2+2 truly equaled 4 or if some letters could be used to even give more meaning.

I miss being happy. I truly have learned to appreciate in a profound way the emotion and feeling of happiness. Before mental illness set in I was asked a lot why I was happy. That and being called "mam" in the drive through a lot ... that will have to be another story. When asked why I was so happy, I really didn't have an answer, except that I loved life. It was that simple. Sure, I feel happiness now ... mostly spotty glimpses, some longer than others and I believe there are numerous reasons why. Anxiety and Depression are always unwelcome guests that show up whenever they want and don't politely tell you when they will leave. When they come, it's so much more about being sad. I read the other day one of the best descriptions about the feelings and emotions they bring. It's like the feeling when you trip losing your balance and you don't know if you are going to regain your balance or fall and get seriously injured ... that feeling of despair. Then throw on the feeling that every decision you make carries the heavy weight of it being life or death ... that permanent. When I began fighting Depression and Anxiety I felt like I was doing something wrong putting my life out of sorts. I wasn't happy so I must being doing something wrong. I would evaluate my life and think about the things that make me happy. I would go through every single one and couldn't find happiness. I even made sure my life was in order with my Maker and still no happiness. It had to be me and man I must have really messed up if I'm not feeling happiness with my Maker. That was and is the one truth I always hang my hat on ... and if that starts to shake, well let me just say the word despair doesn't give it any justice of meaning.

Man, I really painted quite the uplifting picture there, but mental illness isn't about feeling uplifted though. I don't have all the answers, but I can say that I've learned to know that when despair and darkness come from my depression and consumes me, it's not my fault! If you are fighting mental illness, please know that those feelings of darkness are not because of you! Mental illness is just that .,. it's an illness. Give yourself a break of feeling responsible! When you do so, it doesn't mean that "poof" it's gone, but I can tell you for me it's allowed me to focus more on spending the energy on coping and working through it. And sometimes coping is taking everything down to just the basics. For me it's I'm human and have a Maker above. Even this though is just a fight in itself. But that fight is worth it! As in any fight you get kicked around and beaten up, but there are also moments when you are winning! When you're winning enjoy those moments of happiness! If you keep fighting you begin to learn through experience about the demons of depression and how to handle their different strategies. There is no time clock on this though! It's different for everyone. Yet, through the experience of the fighting means more glimpses of happiness. There may be days, weeks or even months between these glimpses, but they come! Oh, the fight is real and I know it's a brutal fight that no one really sees. At first I wanted to have it all figured out and fixed in one day and really still have that desire when I get frustrated, but it's overwhelming. Starting the day with taking it back to the basics and even doing that 10, 20 30+ times a day is helping me learn how to cope ... not get rid of, but cope. For me I'm finding that when I focus more on coping and not focus on fixing "this" or getting rid of "that" , there are more glimpses of happiness.  

But I want to Play Now!

There are a lot of incredible sounds out there in this lovely world. I won't list my top ten, but I will say that one of them is hearing the snap of the net from the ball perfectly making it through the hoop. The swish. The nothing but air in a good way. The moment of pure bliss. Playing ball was a huge part of my life growing up and hearing that sound never gets old. It seemed like every spare moment I had I was wanting to shoot hoops, be it on my own or with my friends. If I had to pick though, I would choose shooting hoops with my friends. We played with anyone that we could ... those in our neighborhood, those that were at the park and even played more structured ball among our church. There were many years playing together, which meant we knew each other in and out of what we would do in different situations ... basically reading each others minds. What meant more though was we became close as brothers playing all those years.

The last year of church ball for us was sneaking up and man were we looking forward to playing, but we knew it would be bitter sweet. We knew we would all be going our separate ways from going to college, church missions or whatever was planned. This was the big finale. A couple of months before the season started I had a "medical procedure" done. I was told that it would be minor, yet it ended up a little larger than minor keeping me in the hospital overnight. It's always fun when folks ask me what I had done. I like to tell them it was just a medical procedure trying to dodge the embarrassment. But truth be told, it was truly a pain in the butt. Yep, if you play the game, "where is your largest scar," I get to say by my tailbone. The real pain though was that it would take longer than two months to completely heal. When I asked the doc about playing basketball, he told me it wouldn't be the best idea. Hey, I was young. I can't even come close explaining all the things that I did back then that weren't the "best ideas." So, in my mind I was shooting hoops. The season began and I was so excited. In practice I took it easy and noticed a couple of things that were a lot harder to do, but I wasn't about to tell anyone. The coaches knew what I had been through so I was told over and over to take it easy. Needless to say I didn't and man came the flood of frustration, anger, embarrassment ... you name the negative emotion and I felt it. I was awful! I was horrible! My go to move got up and left! I was ignoring what was glaring at me and that was I had to sit out. Not only for me, but for the team. I remember being so close to tears throughout the season as all I could do was cheer my brothers on and not participate on the court. I was able to heal, but just like we knew as the season ended we all went our different ways.

Next month will be the five year mark when my world turned upside down. I was getting close to the ten year mark of working with the same company. I was able to provide for my family in a way that their needs were met and my sweet wife was able to stay home with them. That had always been something so important to me. I believe that is why I held on so strong to not tell anyone about the suicidal thoughts and the extremely painful ocd and anxiety that began to consume my life. I was beginning to feel smothered with no place to turn. If I told my wife about what was going on, it would open up a future that I had no control over and really wasn't fond of the possibilities of the outcomes. If I didn't tell my wife, I knew my life would end up shorter than expected. To this day, I am extremely thankful that my sweet wife saw that I was spiraling down out of control and did something about it.

Well, I'm here experiencing that unknown future. I can tell you that it's hard and there are days that I truly hate it ... and I don't use the word hate lightly. Am I getting better? I will always answer, "sure" with a smile on my face. Two steps forward, one step backward is what some say. Sometimes it feels like one step forward and nine steps back and I couldn't tell you why. I guess the good times is when there are more good days than bad days. This whole "healing" time challenges me daily. I'm not the bread winner anymore, which means there are times my sweet wife isn't there for my awesome kids as often as before. One can imagine how my whole soul feels when I hear the importance of the moms being at home for the kids. I think I would rather have a colonoscopy daily. So yes, there are times when I jump back into the game wanting to do more than I can and I end up realizing that I can't do the things I used to be able to do and sitting out is important. Notice the word "can't" and not "want." The stigma of mental health is all about folks thinking that we simply don't want to pull up the boot straps and work through the pain feeling the burn. Truth be told, we feel the pain every day. Oh, and let me poke you in both eyes and tell you to just see better. I miss going on family trips. I miss the feeling of "providing" for my family. I miss being healthy. I miss the old me. Sitting on the sidelines taking time to heal at the right speed is hard for me. I have a hard time with either going way too fast wanting to do everything and do it perfectly compared to going way too slow hating the world and giving them the finger.

The bottom line for me is that if I know that I need to heal, then I know and recognize that part of me is not healthy. I've recognized it and am taking the right steps. Sitting on the sideline though watching loved ones struggle because you're not in the game can be a weight simply unbearable. The slippery slope comes when you feel like a burden if you're out of the game or in the game and have no sense of meaning or worth. If you get to this point or feel like you're getting close to this point, find a loved one and just spend a little time with them ... even making eye contact. They love you! They need you! How do I know this helps? I've done it myself more times than I want to admit. They may look at you a little weird as you make that eye contact, but let me say when I have done it somehow the love that is felt from them helps me heal.