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.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Monday, January 4, 2016
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.
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.
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