You Can't Play Football Today

I have three amazing older siblings with the oldest being a lovely lady. As you can imagine, growing up being the youngest was, shall we say full of a variety of emotions and experiences. All in all great though. And yes, my sister did dress me up in dresses and put make up on me and even introduced me to a new level of pain from the use of eyelash curlers. I'm pretty confident that the CIA uses that tool for torture techniques. In her eyes, I was supposed to be a little red headed sister for her. Now before all sorts of conclusions are jumped to, I will simply digress. Love you sis!

When it came to my older brothers we played a variety of sports from basketball, softball, football to kick the can. Okay, so some may not say that kick the can is a sport; however, I think it has some hope for being an Olympic sport someday. Fingers crossed. If I had to pick my favorite sport with the overall best memories, it'd be football. The chill in the air with the leaves starting to change colors. The smell of grapes coming from our back yard. That was the sign that football was here. It was kind of a magical thing when my brothers and I would go out to the front yard to play football and other guys from the neighborhood would just appear. It was like we all new it was time. We would play touch football, which really meant we would start with touch and then gradually turn into tackle. Being that we played mostly with my older brothers friends, I learned how to either get away fast or feel the pain. Let alone be the last one to have the chance of tackling someone before they scored. My strategy was to always grab one leg and hope my team would get there fast.

Now with football coming in the season of fall, there was always the chance of catching a cold, which seemed to always happen. One had to be strategic about it though. If we had to cough, we did all we could to muffle it so our mom would not hear it because if she heard it that could only lead to a bad ending. I recall I made the mistake one time of coughing in earshot of my mom. My instructions were to lay low and here it came, "No Football Today." That was almost like no Egg Nog with Christmas. Oh the sting! Just the thought of missing a potential game was hard, but if there actually turned out to be a game, it was simply devastating! I remember falling into that scenario once. All I could do was stand by the front door and watch the joy and pleasure my brothers and friends were having. Every now and then I would ask my mom if I could go out and play and I got the same answer, "Not until you feel better." I could tell her that I felt great all the live long day, but it was that pesty cough that gave it away every time. All I could do was stand and watch the fun.

My family and my wife's family love to get together and do the family thing ... from games, watching movies, sports, just chewing the fat, to even singing songs. Yep, I usually do shy away from the singing songs bit and I never hear any complaints about that. After I had been diagnosed with some mental heath issues, my family and I were out of town attending a family function during one Christmas. There was good food, good Egg Nog, good music and oh the decorations. Heck, there was even snow. In the midst of all of this I knew something wasn't right in my head. I felt the heaviness on my chest and felt like someone was trying to put on an extra small turtle neck on me and was being successful. I did not know what was happening, but I sure did not like it. I felt like I was losing my control of how to handle these emotions and losing control fast. I remember someone coming up with the idea of the kids putting on the Nativity and somehow that was the last blow of feeling so stifled. I remember standing up and walking to the room by the front door trying to gain any control and simply trying to catch my breath and mentally shake away what I was experiencing. The noise of it all got so bad I left the house and told myself I was just going for a walk. Needless to say with it being dark out and a good amount of snow on the ground one would think I would have grabbed my coat, nope!

I remember being startled with how far I had walked and also realizing I was starting to lose my way ... not only with directions, but mentally. I'm not sure why, but I wanted to throw my wallet and my phone away from me and just not be. I was not who I was. I missed him. I walked with my hands in my pockets in the dark on some street not knowing where I was trying to figure out literally what the living daylights was going on. There came a time where I thought it would be all over and my body would be found some days later. Thankfully, I fought off throwing my wallet and phone and my dear wife called me and asked to describe what I saw where I was and she was able to find me.

I've learned that sadly there are events and even family functions that are too hard for me to attend. Why? I guess that's why I meet with a Psychologist and Psychiatrist to figure out and work on. Meds and therapy have helped some, yet I still struggle. Having that experience that Christmas still haunts me when I think about getting together with a bunch of friends, family or even large events. Yep, I've made long strides and know how to cope better, but I'm still not ready for certain things. I hate how it impacts people and their lives. The thing that really pulls out the ultimate suck factor, is that these are things I want to attend and attend badly. I don't like sitting on the sideline watching all the fun and not being able play. Perhaps someday.

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!

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.  

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.  

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.

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.