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.
Monday, January 4, 2016
Thursday, August 13, 2015
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.
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.
Saturday, July 25, 2015
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!!
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!!
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Four Score and The Squeaky Wheel
I remember walking on a cold February day, thinking of what a Psychologist and I had just talked about. It was the first time that we met and words like depression and anxiety had been words to describe other people, but now I was in that mix having emotion after emotion surge through my body having no idea what to do with them grasping for some type of handle. Well, early last month marked four years since that day. Like any day, it came and went. I don't find it a day I buy balloons, bake me a cake and enjoy a Coke while throwing confetti in the air. I find that I do more thinking about how the journey has gone ... thinking about what I've learned realizing that the score is more wins than losses. How do I know? I'm still here breathing. Okay, so I had a bit of levity there using Four and Score ... I know it's eighty years, but I've always wanted to say that or write that. Mark another off the bucket list if you will. With that said, here are just a few thoughts about that last four years. Yep, they are my thoughts ... take the risk of reading, I dare you!
Why do people go to the hospital to visit others with some sort of ailment? I can only speak from my own experience, but for me it was to show support and love. Heck, even maybe bring a balloon, card or flowers. Who am I kidding? I was never good at bringing stuff, I just wanted to come and say hello and try to bring a smile. Never in my mind was I going to the hospital to "cure" or "fix" my friend. I didn't want anything to do with touching anything. Even touching the remote to the TV or adjusting the bed made me very uneasy. I had the opportunity of being in a hospital for a couple of days when I was a teenager. They can be lonely times. This was a time before "texting" or the other plethora of other social media ... I know I am old! Having visitors was huge! The smiles came easier. The loneliness seemed not so heavy. The act of love was simple, yet had a powerful effect. Those with the ailment of mental illness should be no different, but it is. The irony is that the simple acts of love is what those with mental illness need more than anything, yet stigma, fear of not knowing what to say or do is strong. When people came to visit me in the hospital when I was young, they didn't talk about my surgery, or how the procedure was done. They were there to support, love, bring comfort and joy.
Can I tell you how much I loathe, "The Squeaky Wheel gets The Grease." I have witnessed so many experiences of people getting the promotion, the sale, the last item, the good booth, etc when so many others deserved them more ... and of course the reason is they made the most noise or stink about it. For whatever reason, if a stink or noise isn't made about an issue then that person must not have one. Let me share a little secret here, those that have mental illness will not squeak. In fact, you will be lucky if you get them to make any sound. The heaviness of the stigma wins too many times. I've gotten tired of hiding my mental illness and have opened up, yet I will admit my shoulders get tired often of the stigma. Meeting people for the first time is always fun. Telling them you are fighting a mental illness is like a fart at church ... you get many different reactions. There's the "wow I don't know what to do, so I will ignore it." Then there is the "wow, can you believe the nerve!" This one is usually folks that don't really believe in mental illness. Rarely does it turn into any type of concern. I know of many that are fighting daily their mental illness be it meds or talking with a person with a leather couch. Those that haven't made any steps and are suffering are the those that truly need the "grease" ... love and support.
Taking a step can take a day, months or years. This isn't because of denial or not wanting to progress, but has to do with how horrific the darkness can be. Spiralling down grasping for any hope of truth or principle and not finding it is horrifying. How can one lose sight of such things? I can only speak of my experience here ... for whatever reason, I have had to go through questioning everything. Not a pretty sight at times. There is such a helpless feeling like your "anchor" is gone and you're being tossed around. I know it has been since Nov of last year that I have written anything. I wish it was because I had made huge progress. Let me just say, I'm in the middle of making a step. Patience by others and by those fighting mental illness can be so hard, but is as crucial as eating some good fiber after eating rice and cheese.
My Psychologist once told me that relying on others acts of love and comfort to bring a sense of happiness will do more damage than good ... the acts of love will simply not be enough. I think of that everyday. The days that folks reach out to me means a lot, I won't lie about that. Sadly, there are days though when I am left to my thoughts. The true battle of depression is striving to find happiness on your own. The darkness is real. The feeling of literally being pulled down is real. Thus, the difficulty of finding happiness. Please note, I didn't say you will never experience happiness. I know when I experience the glimpses of happiness the peace it brings is unreal! Finding those glimpses is the fight.
Lastly, I look at the world in a different way now. It's not because I'm hanging upside down. It's not because I'm shorter or taller. It's not even because I'm on the verge of getting bifocals. I'm not sure how to explain it, but I'll take a swing. I'm far more clearer on what defines me and what I let fall on the ground leaving it behind. Depression has made me so insecure, which is such a pain in the backyard, yet pondering for hours and even days on the emotions insecurity brings has in a strange way brought some kind of clearer understanding.
I share these thoughts and ideas not to bring on any light to me. I share them with hopes it will help those fighting depression or anyone with mental illness. I share them with hopes to teach those without mental illness how to be helpful and know that your acts of love is like gold. I share them with hopes that the stigma will lose it's strength bringing more smiles and peace.
Why do people go to the hospital to visit others with some sort of ailment? I can only speak from my own experience, but for me it was to show support and love. Heck, even maybe bring a balloon, card or flowers. Who am I kidding? I was never good at bringing stuff, I just wanted to come and say hello and try to bring a smile. Never in my mind was I going to the hospital to "cure" or "fix" my friend. I didn't want anything to do with touching anything. Even touching the remote to the TV or adjusting the bed made me very uneasy. I had the opportunity of being in a hospital for a couple of days when I was a teenager. They can be lonely times. This was a time before "texting" or the other plethora of other social media ... I know I am old! Having visitors was huge! The smiles came easier. The loneliness seemed not so heavy. The act of love was simple, yet had a powerful effect. Those with the ailment of mental illness should be no different, but it is. The irony is that the simple acts of love is what those with mental illness need more than anything, yet stigma, fear of not knowing what to say or do is strong. When people came to visit me in the hospital when I was young, they didn't talk about my surgery, or how the procedure was done. They were there to support, love, bring comfort and joy.
Can I tell you how much I loathe, "The Squeaky Wheel gets The Grease." I have witnessed so many experiences of people getting the promotion, the sale, the last item, the good booth, etc when so many others deserved them more ... and of course the reason is they made the most noise or stink about it. For whatever reason, if a stink or noise isn't made about an issue then that person must not have one. Let me share a little secret here, those that have mental illness will not squeak. In fact, you will be lucky if you get them to make any sound. The heaviness of the stigma wins too many times. I've gotten tired of hiding my mental illness and have opened up, yet I will admit my shoulders get tired often of the stigma. Meeting people for the first time is always fun. Telling them you are fighting a mental illness is like a fart at church ... you get many different reactions. There's the "wow I don't know what to do, so I will ignore it." Then there is the "wow, can you believe the nerve!" This one is usually folks that don't really believe in mental illness. Rarely does it turn into any type of concern. I know of many that are fighting daily their mental illness be it meds or talking with a person with a leather couch. Those that haven't made any steps and are suffering are the those that truly need the "grease" ... love and support.
Taking a step can take a day, months or years. This isn't because of denial or not wanting to progress, but has to do with how horrific the darkness can be. Spiralling down grasping for any hope of truth or principle and not finding it is horrifying. How can one lose sight of such things? I can only speak of my experience here ... for whatever reason, I have had to go through questioning everything. Not a pretty sight at times. There is such a helpless feeling like your "anchor" is gone and you're being tossed around. I know it has been since Nov of last year that I have written anything. I wish it was because I had made huge progress. Let me just say, I'm in the middle of making a step. Patience by others and by those fighting mental illness can be so hard, but is as crucial as eating some good fiber after eating rice and cheese.
My Psychologist once told me that relying on others acts of love and comfort to bring a sense of happiness will do more damage than good ... the acts of love will simply not be enough. I think of that everyday. The days that folks reach out to me means a lot, I won't lie about that. Sadly, there are days though when I am left to my thoughts. The true battle of depression is striving to find happiness on your own. The darkness is real. The feeling of literally being pulled down is real. Thus, the difficulty of finding happiness. Please note, I didn't say you will never experience happiness. I know when I experience the glimpses of happiness the peace it brings is unreal! Finding those glimpses is the fight.
Lastly, I look at the world in a different way now. It's not because I'm hanging upside down. It's not because I'm shorter or taller. It's not even because I'm on the verge of getting bifocals. I'm not sure how to explain it, but I'll take a swing. I'm far more clearer on what defines me and what I let fall on the ground leaving it behind. Depression has made me so insecure, which is such a pain in the backyard, yet pondering for hours and even days on the emotions insecurity brings has in a strange way brought some kind of clearer understanding.
I share these thoughts and ideas not to bring on any light to me. I share them with hopes it will help those fighting depression or anyone with mental illness. I share them with hopes to teach those without mental illness how to be helpful and know that your acts of love is like gold. I share them with hopes that the stigma will lose it's strength bringing more smiles and peace.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Looking Through The Glass
I have to admit that I am a people watcher. Yep, I don't deny it one bit. I'm curious about folk's backgrounds and why they do what they do. Needless to say, I have to be careful when I go out to dine with others, that I don't spend all my time watching folks and turning out to be a dreadful mistake and waist of time. I don't know if I have always been like this or if over the years with my employment that required me to do A LOT of observing, if it just became part of me. I actually spent some time where I observed and worked with teachers that were teaching missionaries. At times I would be asked to have a class meet in the "observation room." What did this mean? Have you ever been in one of those interrogation rooms where they have the mirror/window like on TV? Don't worry, you don't have to answer. Well, that's what this room had. At times other teacher supervisors would want to meet and be able to discuss what was happening, but not be a disturbance; thus, the one way mirror thing. There was a device that we could turn on to be able to hear those in the room, but it did not work the best. It's amazing how much you miss when you can't hear what is being said being left up to your own judgements. Working at night in that little dark room did wonders with me getting to know the sandman.
Later in my employment life, I got to be the guy that people got to "discuss" their concerns with how the company I worked for handled their money. I learned rather fast that one of the most important things I had in my office was a comfortable chair because of the great need of being able to sit back and relax and simply listen ... not judge, but listen. These little get-togethers could be very quick with the client getting to the point, be it yelling, red faced or calling me names I later had to look up. Other times I could be tied up for a while listening to a family history lesson of sorts. When I was first introduced to this type of employ I had no clue how to handle these situations. I did a lot of smiling while calling on the powers above to either get me out of that situation or let it come to a quick close. Looking back, one of the most beneficial things I learned was that everyone is different and wears all sorts of masks of emotions to hide truly how they are. I had people that came in threatening me and when all was said and done, they were in tears. It wasn't because I gave them a good beat down ... even though the temptation grew strong at times. The most powerful thing I learned that had people open up was when they felt I cared and they could trust me.
Have you ever stopped for a moment and really thought about the people that you trust? I mean really trust. For me, I think there are different levels of trust I have with folks, but those that I truly trust with all my heart is few in number. Depression has brought me what I like to call the twin stooges ... Insecurity and Vulnerability. Never in my life have I felt these so strongly and they consume me. That is why I am the king of masks. Unless you're in my small group of folks I trust, and even then the times are few, 100% of the time I'm wearing a mask of smiles and joy. Why? I've really got to be able to trust you. I've really got to feel that if I open up, you won't laugh at how I describe my emotions and claim they're not valid or don't make sense. Believe me, I know they don't make sense. I've got to believe that you will have my back ALL the time. I've got to know that you won't push or probe if I simply don't want to talk about the illness and just want to have company to help support me. I've got to know that you care about me. I've got to know that you won't think less of me. Yep, that is a lot of stipulations. I think that's why I trust few and am lonely a lot. It's like getting out of the shower and grabbing a towel that has been on the towel rod too long and does not smell divine ... it's quite unpleasant.
I did an experiment this past week about the phrase, "how you doing?" Not like how Joey says it on Friends, but simply asking. In my experience, it has become more of a greeting than actually a sincere question. Some don't even finish the question until after they have walked right by you. One of these days I want to answer something about a unicorn that is smoking maryjane and see what kind of response I get. So I know there are those that are thinking, "what do I say?" Try, "nice to see you."
One last thought, and then I will try to make some type of conclusion with all of these thoughts. I've grown up in a culture where I'm asked, "is there anything I/we can do for you?" Most times I reply "nope" when I know there are things I need help with and it's because of the stupid man pride thing. I've been taught that if I need things I need to ask, which again was hard. As mental illness walked in my door it was new to me, my family and those around us. The common reply was, "let me know what you need." That is one of those putting the square block in the round hole scenarios ... it doesn't work. That trust thing is in the way. I even tried one time getting brave letting know what I needed ... it didn't happen.
All right, I have put all the ingredients in the bowl. Let me see if I can pull it all together now. When I hear someone say, "Oh, I SAW him the other day and he looked great," responding to how a person with mental illness is doing, I cringe. You "saw" but don't have a clue. You looked through the observation glass, but didn't hear anything. When I hear someone say, "I'm just waiting for them to ask me for help," regarding someone with mental illness, I cringe. When I hear, "I asked them how they were doing when I walked by them and they said 'great'", regarding someone with mental illness, I cringe. Please know that I'm not getting on a soap box and saying everyone is like this. I see some energy and focus on being more aware of those with mental illness. To me, that is half the battle. Having and idea of how to use the energy and focus is crucial. It reminds me of four year old children so excited to play soccer for the first time, but have no idea the best way to approach it except run around in a group all trying to kick the ball. As they learn what works best, the outcome is greater.
Okay, so if you have made it this far reading ... thanks. I didn't mean to write a book tonight. Loneliness hurts and when you feel it's your fault it seems to stink worse. I can promise, and I don't use that word "promise" lightly, that there are folks in your circle of friends or that are close to you that are suffering. Be that friend they can trust.
Later in my employment life, I got to be the guy that people got to "discuss" their concerns with how the company I worked for handled their money. I learned rather fast that one of the most important things I had in my office was a comfortable chair because of the great need of being able to sit back and relax and simply listen ... not judge, but listen. These little get-togethers could be very quick with the client getting to the point, be it yelling, red faced or calling me names I later had to look up. Other times I could be tied up for a while listening to a family history lesson of sorts. When I was first introduced to this type of employ I had no clue how to handle these situations. I did a lot of smiling while calling on the powers above to either get me out of that situation or let it come to a quick close. Looking back, one of the most beneficial things I learned was that everyone is different and wears all sorts of masks of emotions to hide truly how they are. I had people that came in threatening me and when all was said and done, they were in tears. It wasn't because I gave them a good beat down ... even though the temptation grew strong at times. The most powerful thing I learned that had people open up was when they felt I cared and they could trust me.
Have you ever stopped for a moment and really thought about the people that you trust? I mean really trust. For me, I think there are different levels of trust I have with folks, but those that I truly trust with all my heart is few in number. Depression has brought me what I like to call the twin stooges ... Insecurity and Vulnerability. Never in my life have I felt these so strongly and they consume me. That is why I am the king of masks. Unless you're in my small group of folks I trust, and even then the times are few, 100% of the time I'm wearing a mask of smiles and joy. Why? I've really got to be able to trust you. I've really got to feel that if I open up, you won't laugh at how I describe my emotions and claim they're not valid or don't make sense. Believe me, I know they don't make sense. I've got to believe that you will have my back ALL the time. I've got to know that you won't push or probe if I simply don't want to talk about the illness and just want to have company to help support me. I've got to know that you care about me. I've got to know that you won't think less of me. Yep, that is a lot of stipulations. I think that's why I trust few and am lonely a lot. It's like getting out of the shower and grabbing a towel that has been on the towel rod too long and does not smell divine ... it's quite unpleasant.
I did an experiment this past week about the phrase, "how you doing?" Not like how Joey says it on Friends, but simply asking. In my experience, it has become more of a greeting than actually a sincere question. Some don't even finish the question until after they have walked right by you. One of these days I want to answer something about a unicorn that is smoking maryjane and see what kind of response I get. So I know there are those that are thinking, "what do I say?" Try, "nice to see you."
One last thought, and then I will try to make some type of conclusion with all of these thoughts. I've grown up in a culture where I'm asked, "is there anything I/we can do for you?" Most times I reply "nope" when I know there are things I need help with and it's because of the stupid man pride thing. I've been taught that if I need things I need to ask, which again was hard. As mental illness walked in my door it was new to me, my family and those around us. The common reply was, "let me know what you need." That is one of those putting the square block in the round hole scenarios ... it doesn't work. That trust thing is in the way. I even tried one time getting brave letting know what I needed ... it didn't happen.
All right, I have put all the ingredients in the bowl. Let me see if I can pull it all together now. When I hear someone say, "Oh, I SAW him the other day and he looked great," responding to how a person with mental illness is doing, I cringe. You "saw" but don't have a clue. You looked through the observation glass, but didn't hear anything. When I hear someone say, "I'm just waiting for them to ask me for help," regarding someone with mental illness, I cringe. When I hear, "I asked them how they were doing when I walked by them and they said 'great'", regarding someone with mental illness, I cringe. Please know that I'm not getting on a soap box and saying everyone is like this. I see some energy and focus on being more aware of those with mental illness. To me, that is half the battle. Having and idea of how to use the energy and focus is crucial. It reminds me of four year old children so excited to play soccer for the first time, but have no idea the best way to approach it except run around in a group all trying to kick the ball. As they learn what works best, the outcome is greater.
Okay, so if you have made it this far reading ... thanks. I didn't mean to write a book tonight. Loneliness hurts and when you feel it's your fault it seems to stink worse. I can promise, and I don't use that word "promise" lightly, that there are folks in your circle of friends or that are close to you that are suffering. Be that friend they can trust.
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.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
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.
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.
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