When The Bombs Fall

When I was a lad I really looked up to those in my family ... my awesome siblings and my incredible mom. My dad died when I was quite young, but I will call him incredible as well! Being the youngest, I had all sorts of examples to follow ... mostly good of course! Now, this doesn't mean that we didn't fight or have times when we didn't see eye to eye. I sure didn't see eye to eye with my older siblings as they tried to see if I would fit down the laundry chute. I definitely know my sister didn't see eye to eye with me when she came to know how I found out some of her nail polish was flammable! It was awesome! The bottom line though is that my family was my world. That's all I knew when I was young. When times were rough, I still had my family to hang on to .. to be my strength.

As the teenager years came, I began to surround myself with those that I felt comfortable with. That were friends and would be there for me when times were rough. My family was still there, but with my finite teenage understanding that looked through know it all glasses, my clarity of who really had my best interest in me at times was clear as mud. Thankfully I made it through the young teenage years.

With years passing getting me closer to adulthood, I had friends that were good solid people. I had my family to give me strength, but there came times that my friends gave me strength as well. Strength and support that I will never forget about. I throw credit their way for partially being who I am today. You can thank them or curse them.

As I began to embrace that mental illness was something I was going to deal with and fight with, I leaned so much on my wife ... my rock. I know how badly she wanted to help me, yet I knew if I was trying to figure out this whole mental illness thing, she was struggling just as much. That and is a struggle for me because I want to lean on her so much, which I can, but there are some things she just can't help me with and that's okay.

While fighting the feelings of not being good enough, not having any value, not being important enough, will never amount to anything and so much more, I tend to reach out to those that fight the same horror and lock arms with them. I lock arms with them to have more strength to fight the daily battles. Some of these friends are close and that I know and others are miles away and don't even know me, yet I gain strength from them seeing them fight the fight! Some days the fight goes well while other days I wonder if there is enough strength left. And then there are those days when the bombs fall. When I find myself on my hands and knees looking around dazed to see what the hell happened. I shake my head hoping I can figure things out while I look around in the fog around me looking for those that I had locked arms with. Like a surprise punch to the face I find that some of those that gave me strength are gone. They lost the fight. Too many bombs have been falling and too many people have been losing the fight. My heart bleeds for their close ones and their family. I feel selfish for focusing more of how it has impacted me. How I crawl around looking for someone to lock up arms with again and hope that the bombs will stop long enough for me to find the strength. Too many are losing the fight.

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!    

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.  

Better and the But Eraser

I enjoy organization. One might say that I love being organized. One may say that I love it a bit too much. If you were to look in my closet, not only would you see the shirts separated by short sleeve and long sleeve, but actually organized by color. Yep, I'm that type of guy. You could say that I'm a bit of a perfectionist. Want another example? Okay. When I first got married I was the one that kept track of the finances. I was the guy that knew down to the penny how much was in our bank account. I could tell you just how much we spent on expenses and such. Mind you that this was all before Excel. I used good old ledger sheets. Not bad so far, right? Well, I had all sorts of fun using different colors of pens and such on the ledger sheets I used to keep track of the bank account. It was awesome! The rub is when I would make a mistake. Some may say to just cross out the line and use the next line below. Well, I couldn't do that. I would start a new sheet all over again. Yep, one simple mistake and a new sheet had to be done. Why? Looking at the pristine sheet, all I could see was the mistake, over and over again. All the other lines where everything was correct was simply not good enough. My sweet loving wife would try to convince me that it was okay, yet I would still fix it. After a while she knew that was just what I did. The funny thing of it all is after I filed it away, the next time I saw it was when I was throwing it away years down the road. I will have to admit that when Excel came out I was like a kid in a candy store, like a kid on Christmas Morning, like a 43 year old handsome man named Ken drinking the first Egg Nog of the season! It was awesome!

In the past years or so as I have fought mental illness, I have come to really dislike the word "better." I mean really dislike it! I'm not talking about the use of getting better or healing, I'm talking about "doing things" better that others bring to my attention or tell me what to do. I have talked with others, sat in meetings, etc where the topic is doing things better. Like, "hey, lets talk about how you can be better at" ... fill in the blank. Pretty petty right? Let me introduce to you to one of what is called an "Error In Thinking" that is found in people with depression. Things are "all or nothing." If your telling me that I need to be better at something, that means I am not only failing in that topic, but also everything else in my life. My brain is already doing a bang up job of convincing me of that, so when others start telling me about being better, I simply feel and think that my life is not good enough. Then, there are those rare, yet devastating times when someone does use the words, "not good enough." I simply don't want to admit how long it takes to fight to get rid of that darkness. The coveted ability of being able to distinguish or break down things in life of doing awesome at or others that need a bit of improvement, is not there for me more than not. So, you may be thinking, "Holy smokes! What word do I use than better?" I personally like the word "stronger." It implies that there already is a strength be it how small it may be. Now if you were talking about my biceps, there would be no need to talk about the need of being stronger ... in my dreams.

Then there is what I call the but eraser. Note that I am using one "t" here. If you thought I was talking about shrinking the backyard, I'm sorry. Have you ever noticed how the word "but" can be used when talking to someone about something they did? Before I had a plethora of training on giving "feedback properly" I noticed it and really have to say I wasn't a fan and am still not. So here is an example, "I love how your hair looks today, but man it sure is greasy." What do you think the person that received the compliment is thinking about ... yep, greasy hair. Everything before the word "but" is gone. Poof! Bam! Adios! ... and any other words like that. In my loving training of giving feedback, it is drilled in your head that you have to give a positive and a negative. "Man that was an awesome throw, but it missed the receiver by a mile." Get the take? As I have battled depression I have been amazed that more times, far more times than not, all I can see is the negative ... especially about myself. You're simply not good enough! Why try if you're going to fail?! You not being good enough is pulling so many down!

Now that I've scared you about your use of "words" around those with depression, let me say that this is me sharing what I've learned. I had NO idea myself before going through this. We all say wrong things at times and really don't know better until we learn. PLEASE KNOW that it is far better to talk with one that has depression and learn what words may cause dark feelings than simply not talk at all, leaving them all alone left with their thoughts.

Now to those that fight the "all or nothing." This is one of those things that I have learned and can see "logically", yet getting there is the fight. If you fail at ABC, that doesn't mean you fail with the whole ALPHABET. If your dishes stay in the sink over night, that doesn't make the rest of the house a disaster or all the other dishes dirty. If you aren't able to buy every new gadget for your kids, that doesn't mean you're a horrible parent. If you aren't able to buy Ken Egg Nog, you are still his friend. Simply, it's totally okay to have the line crossed out and start again.

You're Only As Good As ...

The big day came and I graduated from a fine University. During those ten years for a Bachelors Degree I changed my focus on studies like a bazillion times. Okay, maybe not ten years and maybe not a bazillion times, but sure felt like that. During those enjoyable years of study, I would be asked what I "wanted to be." My answer would usually start off with intensely informing them that I would do anything but sales and then share the flavor of the month or months. I was always intrigued by the responses I would get when I shared what I wanted to do. If it wasn't under the umbrella of what everyone thought was a good move, the negative remarks would come. My favorite was, "well be prepared to be unemployed." Thanks for the confidence, right?

Another big day came and that was taking my first job out of college. Any guesses? Yep, a sales job! Why? Well, I had this incredibly beautiful wife and two young gorgeous girls that wanted a place of their own to live and wanted to be able to eat and stuff. Well, to sharpen my interviewing skills I would go to job fair events and one of the companies that interviewed me wanted me to sell their stuff. So, I said, "Okay."

I had the "privilege" of attending a two week training to start things off. The training made me smile now and then because of all the "secrets to sales" they shared, like focus on building trust, finding things in common and striving to find out any concerns. My all time favorite "secret of sales" was what I call the "stare and don't care." How this worked was when the sales person finished their incredible presentation they would pull out the contract, get to the signing page, put down the pen showing where to sign, ask for the business and then stare at the pen. Here's the big secret ... the first person to talk "lost." So if the sales person talked first, they wouldn't get the sale. If the "potential client" talked first, they would usually buy what was being sold. Yep, imagine the awkward lengthy silence; thus, the be strong and don't care. You can only imagine how fun training was when we working on this big secret. Let me just say, oh the sounds of silence. Oh, and by the way, it turns out that most of the business folks I tried this on laughed while saying something like, "your little trick isn't going to work on me."

Fresh out of training, I quickly learned I was solely defined by how much I sold. That was it! Morning sales meeting was entertaining, confusing, full of anxiety and full of anticipation. How your sales for the month determined how you were treated. If your sales were horrible, you were treated not so good. If your sales were awesome, you were treated like a king. I have to admit that I did have an awesome month or two and you bet I enjoyed being treated like a king. It felt awesome! I was asked more about my opinion in sales meetings. I actually didn't have to worry if  sweat  was showing through my shirt and I began to feel this strange feeling called relaxation. After my first good month was over I walked into the sales meeting all happy and joyful, because I had been the king. Then it happened. I was introduced to a saying and line of thinking that I really don't like ... "You're only as good as what you are doing for me this month. Last month doesn't matter!" More than naught, even the saying "What you did for me yesterday doesn't matter!" Or my favorite, "You're only as good as your last Sale", and that good sale better have happened today!

As the years passed going from one company to another, I found that twisted mentality still lived. I was finding that if I wasn't King of the Month or King of the Moment then something was wrong with me. Not a little wrong, but extremely wrong. Experiencing such opposite ends of emotion from "you're incredible" to "I can't believe you're still here" by the same person brought me to question the sincerity and integrity of that person. I got to the point after every reprimand I wanted to answer while bending over, "thank you sir, may I have another" just to get them move on.

Worthless, no value, no good, a liability ... are dark feelings that come with depression. Feelings so strong that they do an incredible and merciless job of convincing you that you are worthless, having no value, no good and being a huge liability to everyone you know and don't know. To the point that the world truly would be a better place without you. Not because you are feeling sad or sorry for your self, but that your brain truly has convinced you are simply nothing, hindering the world and those around you. This set of mind is not a fun place to be and frankly, quite scary. There is no tip toeing through the tulips here. So just have people tell you how awesome you are, how handsome you are, how you are in such high demand, etc. Sure those things are fun to hear, but I can only speak for myself that when that stuff is being said and I'm in that mind set ... I don't believe a word.

The fight here, is truly understanding worth and  being able to accept it. I don't want to admit how long I've been working on this and really how far I have to go. I really don't want to admit how often I feel worthless compared to not. But, here's my take on worth. The bottom line is that it is NOT conditional. Don't let other folks, events or whatever there may be out there define your worth. You have purpose because you are here. You have worth because you are here. If no one reaches out to you today, that doesn't make you worthless! I know the thoughts that come along with that ... "but if I had worth or was important or loved, someone would reach out." Worth is not conditional. If one of your close friends goes down the road of not telling you the truth, that doesn't make you worthless! Worth is not conditional. If people look at you differently because you aren't playing the "norms" of life, that doesn't make you worthless! Worth is not conditional. Getting the picture? If "everything" went wrong in your life, could you still be worth something? YES! Worth is not conditional!

Ah, but now the "accepting" part. Can I tell you how many times my psychologist has told me to accept me for me? It rhymes with PLETHORA! I've learned that I have created so many "labels" in my life to be or accomplish in order to have worth. These little labels have now become huge mountains that I'm currently clawing and fighting to climb one by one. If you were to ask me if I felt I had worth, I would simply look at you with a big smile and lie telling you, "of course!" Why? First because of the mask I wear to protect me. But the feelings of constant worthlessness brings hopelessness ... not fun to talk about or write about. It reminds you of what you are striving not to feel. I'm learning that being able to accept yourself is so personal, can be so different for anyone. Is there more darkness than light? Yep ... but there is light.

Friend of OBE. Thank you!!

The Wall of Who I Am

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

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

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

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

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

Past, Present and Phuture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hold On, Let Go

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

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

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

The Crying and Ride of My Life

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

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

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

I Have Money On This Game

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

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

Did You Just Call Me a Bully?

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

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

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

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.

Dear Ken,

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

Dear Ken,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love you dude!

Ken

A Bagel is Not a Donut

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

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

Looking Through Broken Eggs

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

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

Watering Trees and the Belch

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

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

Planes on Fire and the Shaggy Carpet

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

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

I Am A Better Swimmer Than Me

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

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

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