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.
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Friday, April 14, 2017
Monday, January 4, 2016
But I want to Play Now!
There are a lot of incredible sounds out there in this lovely world. I won't list my top ten, but I will say that one of them is hearing the snap of the net from the ball perfectly making it through the hoop. The swish. The nothing but air in a good way. The moment of pure bliss. Playing ball was a huge part of my life growing up and hearing that sound never gets old. It seemed like every spare moment I had I was wanting to shoot hoops, be it on my own or with my friends. If I had to pick though, I would choose shooting hoops with my friends. We played with anyone that we could ... those in our neighborhood, those that were at the park and even played more structured ball among our church. There were many years playing together, which meant we knew each other in and out of what we would do in different situations ... basically reading each others minds. What meant more though was we became close as brothers playing all those years.
The last year of church ball for us was sneaking up and man were we looking forward to playing, but we knew it would be bitter sweet. We knew we would all be going our separate ways from going to college, church missions or whatever was planned. This was the big finale. A couple of months before the season started I had a "medical procedure" done. I was told that it would be minor, yet it ended up a little larger than minor keeping me in the hospital overnight. It's always fun when folks ask me what I had done. I like to tell them it was just a medical procedure trying to dodge the embarrassment. But truth be told, it was truly a pain in the butt. Yep, if you play the game, "where is your largest scar," I get to say by my tailbone. The real pain though was that it would take longer than two months to completely heal. When I asked the doc about playing basketball, he told me it wouldn't be the best idea. Hey, I was young. I can't even come close explaining all the things that I did back then that weren't the "best ideas." So, in my mind I was shooting hoops. The season began and I was so excited. In practice I took it easy and noticed a couple of things that were a lot harder to do, but I wasn't about to tell anyone. The coaches knew what I had been through so I was told over and over to take it easy. Needless to say I didn't and man came the flood of frustration, anger, embarrassment ... you name the negative emotion and I felt it. I was awful! I was horrible! My go to move got up and left! I was ignoring what was glaring at me and that was I had to sit out. Not only for me, but for the team. I remember being so close to tears throughout the season as all I could do was cheer my brothers on and not participate on the court. I was able to heal, but just like we knew as the season ended we all went our different ways.
Next month will be the five year mark when my world turned upside down. I was getting close to the ten year mark of working with the same company. I was able to provide for my family in a way that their needs were met and my sweet wife was able to stay home with them. That had always been something so important to me. I believe that is why I held on so strong to not tell anyone about the suicidal thoughts and the extremely painful ocd and anxiety that began to consume my life. I was beginning to feel smothered with no place to turn. If I told my wife about what was going on, it would open up a future that I had no control over and really wasn't fond of the possibilities of the outcomes. If I didn't tell my wife, I knew my life would end up shorter than expected. To this day, I am extremely thankful that my sweet wife saw that I was spiraling down out of control and did something about it.
Well, I'm here experiencing that unknown future. I can tell you that it's hard and there are days that I truly hate it ... and I don't use the word hate lightly. Am I getting better? I will always answer, "sure" with a smile on my face. Two steps forward, one step backward is what some say. Sometimes it feels like one step forward and nine steps back and I couldn't tell you why. I guess the good times is when there are more good days than bad days. This whole "healing" time challenges me daily. I'm not the bread winner anymore, which means there are times my sweet wife isn't there for my awesome kids as often as before. One can imagine how my whole soul feels when I hear the importance of the moms being at home for the kids. I think I would rather have a colonoscopy daily. So yes, there are times when I jump back into the game wanting to do more than I can and I end up realizing that I can't do the things I used to be able to do and sitting out is important. Notice the word "can't" and not "want." The stigma of mental health is all about folks thinking that we simply don't want to pull up the boot straps and work through the pain feeling the burn. Truth be told, we feel the pain every day. Oh, and let me poke you in both eyes and tell you to just see better. I miss going on family trips. I miss the feeling of "providing" for my family. I miss being healthy. I miss the old me. Sitting on the sidelines taking time to heal at the right speed is hard for me. I have a hard time with either going way too fast wanting to do everything and do it perfectly compared to going way too slow hating the world and giving them the finger.
The bottom line for me is that if I know that I need to heal, then I know and recognize that part of me is not healthy. I've recognized it and am taking the right steps. Sitting on the sideline though watching loved ones struggle because you're not in the game can be a weight simply unbearable. The slippery slope comes when you feel like a burden if you're out of the game or in the game and have no sense of meaning or worth. If you get to this point or feel like you're getting close to this point, find a loved one and just spend a little time with them ... even making eye contact. They love you! They need you! How do I know this helps? I've done it myself more times than I want to admit. They may look at you a little weird as you make that eye contact, but let me say when I have done it somehow the love that is felt from them helps me heal.
The last year of church ball for us was sneaking up and man were we looking forward to playing, but we knew it would be bitter sweet. We knew we would all be going our separate ways from going to college, church missions or whatever was planned. This was the big finale. A couple of months before the season started I had a "medical procedure" done. I was told that it would be minor, yet it ended up a little larger than minor keeping me in the hospital overnight. It's always fun when folks ask me what I had done. I like to tell them it was just a medical procedure trying to dodge the embarrassment. But truth be told, it was truly a pain in the butt. Yep, if you play the game, "where is your largest scar," I get to say by my tailbone. The real pain though was that it would take longer than two months to completely heal. When I asked the doc about playing basketball, he told me it wouldn't be the best idea. Hey, I was young. I can't even come close explaining all the things that I did back then that weren't the "best ideas." So, in my mind I was shooting hoops. The season began and I was so excited. In practice I took it easy and noticed a couple of things that were a lot harder to do, but I wasn't about to tell anyone. The coaches knew what I had been through so I was told over and over to take it easy. Needless to say I didn't and man came the flood of frustration, anger, embarrassment ... you name the negative emotion and I felt it. I was awful! I was horrible! My go to move got up and left! I was ignoring what was glaring at me and that was I had to sit out. Not only for me, but for the team. I remember being so close to tears throughout the season as all I could do was cheer my brothers on and not participate on the court. I was able to heal, but just like we knew as the season ended we all went our different ways.
Next month will be the five year mark when my world turned upside down. I was getting close to the ten year mark of working with the same company. I was able to provide for my family in a way that their needs were met and my sweet wife was able to stay home with them. That had always been something so important to me. I believe that is why I held on so strong to not tell anyone about the suicidal thoughts and the extremely painful ocd and anxiety that began to consume my life. I was beginning to feel smothered with no place to turn. If I told my wife about what was going on, it would open up a future that I had no control over and really wasn't fond of the possibilities of the outcomes. If I didn't tell my wife, I knew my life would end up shorter than expected. To this day, I am extremely thankful that my sweet wife saw that I was spiraling down out of control and did something about it.
Well, I'm here experiencing that unknown future. I can tell you that it's hard and there are days that I truly hate it ... and I don't use the word hate lightly. Am I getting better? I will always answer, "sure" with a smile on my face. Two steps forward, one step backward is what some say. Sometimes it feels like one step forward and nine steps back and I couldn't tell you why. I guess the good times is when there are more good days than bad days. This whole "healing" time challenges me daily. I'm not the bread winner anymore, which means there are times my sweet wife isn't there for my awesome kids as often as before. One can imagine how my whole soul feels when I hear the importance of the moms being at home for the kids. I think I would rather have a colonoscopy daily. So yes, there are times when I jump back into the game wanting to do more than I can and I end up realizing that I can't do the things I used to be able to do and sitting out is important. Notice the word "can't" and not "want." The stigma of mental health is all about folks thinking that we simply don't want to pull up the boot straps and work through the pain feeling the burn. Truth be told, we feel the pain every day. Oh, and let me poke you in both eyes and tell you to just see better. I miss going on family trips. I miss the feeling of "providing" for my family. I miss being healthy. I miss the old me. Sitting on the sidelines taking time to heal at the right speed is hard for me. I have a hard time with either going way too fast wanting to do everything and do it perfectly compared to going way too slow hating the world and giving them the finger.
The bottom line for me is that if I know that I need to heal, then I know and recognize that part of me is not healthy. I've recognized it and am taking the right steps. Sitting on the sideline though watching loved ones struggle because you're not in the game can be a weight simply unbearable. The slippery slope comes when you feel like a burden if you're out of the game or in the game and have no sense of meaning or worth. If you get to this point or feel like you're getting close to this point, find a loved one and just spend a little time with them ... even making eye contact. They love you! They need you! How do I know this helps? I've done it myself more times than I want to admit. They may look at you a little weird as you make that eye contact, but let me say when I have done it somehow the love that is felt from them helps me heal.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
1 Day Til Death
1 Day Til Death ... sounds like a great metal band doesn't it? Who knows, there might be one out there. Boy, starting off with a tangent is always a delight isn't it? Alright, I will try to bring it home. In my life, a question has been asked of me scattered over the years. It goes something like this, "what would you do if you knew you were going to die tomorrow? If you died today or tomorrow, are you ready to meet your maker?" I believe that in some occassions the question came trying to motivate me by fear to have my life in order, but in most cases I believe the intention was pure to have me to do some of that lovely introspection. In grade school was the first time I heard that question and actually heard it far more than once. My thoughts back then was easy. I wanted to do all the things I hadn't done yet in life ... see famous places, eat awesome things, and of course, kiss that pretty girl that really didn't give me much attention. As junior high and high school came around I was casually testing the boundaries of what I could get away with. So, when that question came about death, I usually felt fear because in my heart I felt God wouldn't want to be with me due to my "exploring life." I truly did not understand the mission of the Messiah. As I got married and my incredibly cool kids came along, I would think if my family was set up financially. That quickly was taken away as I thought about how badly I would miss my beautiful wife and amazing kids. In my heart, I felt and still feel I would see them again after my turn was done on this earth ... I just would miss them terribly.
Living a life of thinking about if today was the day it was over is not a great way to live. That to me is like looking constantly down placing your feet ever so carefully while missing the view of the Grand Canyon or majestic Rocky Mountains or seeing the incredible healing waters of any beach. I think you get the point.
Let me shift gears here a bit. What if you knew that someone was trying to kill you? What if you knew that the person was going to try every day? What if you knew that person? What if that person lived close to you? What if that person lived in your head? Please note, I did NOT say it was you. "You" is the heathly person ... the person in your head is illness.
As the dark abyss of depression began taking over my life and suicidal thoughts began to become suicidal battles, I was getting my tail kicked, but not beat. I learned quickly that I was in the battle of my life, literally. In my darkest of times, I would honestly wake up in the morning wondering if that was the day I was going to lose. If that was the date that would read on my tombstone, with some clever comment about enjoying some Egg Nog by the big Christmas tree in the sky. See, that's the kicker about fighting the illness trying to convince you that things are better off without you ... all it needs is only one time to win.
Being with sincere loving people that I know care about me helps me. Being on meds help me. Meeting with my psychologist and psychiatrist help me. A loving God helps me ... yes, I honestly let him know how I feel, which at times is mad at him and at this; yet, I know He loves me. What do I mean by helps me? It's easier to win a battle with more people on your side ... people you know that are on your side. People that know you know they are on your side, not those that assume weekly. There are times when I'm approached by the suicidal thoughts that seem like an ant amongst giants. Yet, there are still times when suicidal thought is a warrior and I simply run by distracting myself, while "calling all angels." I'm not affaid to die, I know my Savior and God. I just want to die when it's the right time ... not because I lost.
Living a life of thinking about if today was the day it was over is not a great way to live. That to me is like looking constantly down placing your feet ever so carefully while missing the view of the Grand Canyon or majestic Rocky Mountains or seeing the incredible healing waters of any beach. I think you get the point.
Let me shift gears here a bit. What if you knew that someone was trying to kill you? What if you knew that the person was going to try every day? What if you knew that person? What if that person lived close to you? What if that person lived in your head? Please note, I did NOT say it was you. "You" is the heathly person ... the person in your head is illness.
As the dark abyss of depression began taking over my life and suicidal thoughts began to become suicidal battles, I was getting my tail kicked, but not beat. I learned quickly that I was in the battle of my life, literally. In my darkest of times, I would honestly wake up in the morning wondering if that was the day I was going to lose. If that was the date that would read on my tombstone, with some clever comment about enjoying some Egg Nog by the big Christmas tree in the sky. See, that's the kicker about fighting the illness trying to convince you that things are better off without you ... all it needs is only one time to win.
Being with sincere loving people that I know care about me helps me. Being on meds help me. Meeting with my psychologist and psychiatrist help me. A loving God helps me ... yes, I honestly let him know how I feel, which at times is mad at him and at this; yet, I know He loves me. What do I mean by helps me? It's easier to win a battle with more people on your side ... people you know that are on your side. People that know you know they are on your side, not those that assume weekly. There are times when I'm approached by the suicidal thoughts that seem like an ant amongst giants. Yet, there are still times when suicidal thought is a warrior and I simply run by distracting myself, while "calling all angels." I'm not affaid to die, I know my Savior and God. I just want to die when it's the right time ... not because I lost.
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