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.

Will You Go With Me?

I have to admit that in grade school I had several crushes on girls. My first "girlfriend" was in kindergarten. I don't recall her name but I was delighted when she agreed to be my girl. The only stipulation she gave was that it would only last for half an hour. That was an awesome half hour because I could say that I had a girl friend. As I grew older and was still in grade school I was introduced to the idea of the invitation note. You know, the one that reads something like. "Amy, I think you are cute. Will you be my girl friend?" On the bottom of the note one would make two boxes ... one that had a "yes" by it and one that had a "no" by it. I used this clever way several times and most of the time they would come back with an additional box that was made by the girl with a "maybe" by it. That was always troubling and quite irritating to be frank. If I wanted her to answer "maybe" I would have included said box. Then there were the times when the note came back with that magical "x" in the "yes" box. What happened next and would last for days on end would be that we would totally ignore each other. If we saw each other we would smile but not say anything. If our friends made us stand next to each other during recess the awkwardness would be so thick no earthly thing could cut it. Then came along sixth grade. I had a crush on a girl I will call Sandy and I hadn't let it been made know to my friends or through "the note" so we were actually talking with one another. One day Sandy told me that she had heard that another girl I will call Jane had a crush on me and that I should ask Jane to be my girlfriend. So like any young boy would do that had a crush on a girl I told Sandy okay because I was in a mind set of doing anything to please her. Sandy even challenged me to ask Jane face to face and not use a note ... and of course I said, "sure." I really had no idea what to say so Sandy told me to just simply say, "Will you go with me?" Apparently that was the way to ask a girl to be your girlfriend. I was scared to death but again my allegiance to my feelings of trying to impress Sandy was strong. During the day the class was given some free time and with the urging of Sandy I approached Jane and asked her if I could talk with her. She agreed and we went to the back of the classroom. I went straight to the point without beating around the bush and asked her, "Will you go with me?" Jane looked a bit confused and then asked, "where?" I had to back step a bit being taken back by her answer but then explained my question. She did tell me yes and so the awkwardness began.

I have often heard folks say never look back but keep looking ahead. To be honest that statement has always brought me confusion. I see the point of not wallowing in the past mistakes of life but isn't it important to learn from history especially are own individual history? As my world began to be turned upside down and my mind to run off kilter immensely I had never felt so alone in my life. I was VERY fortunate to have one close to me that knew what I was going through and was there to help anyway he could. His insights were helpful but the most helpful thing of all was knowing that there was someone out there knowing what I was growing through and that I wasn't completely alone. As my depression and anxiety came to a head I had so much doubt in everything, so much confusion, so much pain, so much loneliness, so much darkness, my energy was gone, I felt my purpose was long gone ... I felt like I had lost any value and could be easily tossed to the curb. My heart hurts for those that are just beginning to experience this. Those that have just been diagnosed with depression or those that are wondering what on earth is happening to them and why they feel the way they do. The loneliness can come so quickly and does a heck of a job convincing you that you are the only one dealing with this and you have no idea what to do. All you know is that you just want it to end. Let me tell you that YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS! I can tell you that there is a Divine love for you but I understand that with your world upside down and so dark that you are confused why that doesn't help as much as it used to. Don't be ashamed for feeling that!! Depression can create deep powerful dark emotions that for me led to me to doubt everything. I have walked through that thick tar and I can say I have found a love from Him I had no idea existed, but it took time and it took work. For now, know that there are many that secretly fight depression that love you and support you and are cheering you on. Know that as you try to look forward at the questionable journey ahead and if you asked me, "Will you go with me" I would say absolutely friend!

I'm A Sir!

As I graduated from college I knew that new adventures awaited me. I looked forward to take all that amazing knowledge I learned from all the many hours of having my nose in the books and applying it to the "real world." Many fun adventures began to occure but I noticed an unexpected one that began to be more and more consistent. My first job gave me the opportunity to use the phone a lot and I mean a lot! That is where I began to notice this strange phenomena. In the midst of my talking to both men and women I noticed I began to be called "mam." I laughed this off several times as it began but as it continued I really began taking a good look at why this happened. I do admit that I don't have a Barry White type of voice but I don't have a high voice either. I also realized that if I said my name "Ken" fast that could be taken as "Kim." So, in my phone conversations I made sure I over emphasized my name and even attempted to talk lower than I usually do. This actually did reduce the times be called mam but it still happened. Imagine making an appointment on the phone and the client ends the call by "sounds good mam." Showing up for the appointment after that happened was always a delight ... since they were expecting a woman. I also began to recognize this happening as I would go through a drive through of a fine fast food joint. Again, as I pulled up to make a payment or get my fine food the facial reactions of the fast food employees were priceless. A year or so later I began a new job and part of my excitement was hoping to leave the "mam" craze behind but of course it followed me. I interacted with a lot more people with this job, which made it quite interesting. I would have people come to my office telling me that they had talked with a woman who was going to assist them with something and had made an appointment ... yep, that "woman" ended up being me. The experience that topped them all was when they would call me "mam" to my face and quickly recognized their error and apologize; yet, they still called me "mam." This has followed me and continues to follow me. One may wonder if this would get annoying and if it would shake the rock of my manhood. Well, yes it got really annoying and I'm quite comfortable with my manhood. Times I would let it slide and other times I would quickly correct them not really caring if it embarrassed them or not ... especially in the drive through. I found that I would be saying loudly, "thank you and I am a Sir!" Anytime anyone is with me when I go through the drive through and I get called "mam" they always bust up laughing. I am handling it better now and usually play along with it. I have to admit there are times it still is like someone scraping their finger nails on a chalk board but I do admit it is a kick to see the facial reactions of the fast food workers as they are expecting a lady and they see my handsome mug talking in a low british accent.

I believe I am comfortable saying I have far less shame of having depression than I used to. Even though I have opened the doors wide open to it I still fight some feelings of shame like I am less of a person for it. The thought of admitting to someone that I have depression used to bring so much fear and anxiety that it would alter my daily events but it's getting better. Mental illness still has such a rigid stigma associated with it. I have found that you can explain over and over what you are going through but some just don't understand it ... not to a fault of their own in most instances but because it is something that is seems so mysterioulsy unknown. Imagine if there was an illness that when one was diagnosed with it they were admitted to a health center and no one ever talked about it. Then over time people began to pay more attention to it because more and more people began to have it. There were still others that just didn't understand it though. What if this illness was the common cold. Everyone catches a cold, right? What if they didn't? Imagine if there were countless people that never had one. Try to explain what a cold feels like ... this liquid stuff comes out my nose and sometimes my eyes. Sometimes I can't even breath through my nose and I have this bad pain in my throat. There are times when I feel very hot and then very cold and then very hot and very cold. Even my ears have pain in them at times. I really don't even no how I got my cold. People that had never experienced a cold before may look at you like you have five heads or some may attempt to empathize but can't because it is the first time they have heard of such a thing and they just don't no how so they prefer not to be with the folks that have colds. However, there are others that have had experiences with loved ones having colds so they are more understanding and know how to help. I have learned that depression is so similar to this. I hope and pray that more attention can be brought to the mentally ill. That the stigma will be chopped down piece by piece. There are times I hear things about depression that are so off base but I just don't have the energy to say anything and let it pass. Then there are the times when I see the understanding of depression getting traction and I get so excited! Yes, I have experienced the negative judgements folks can make and have been labeled before they really sought to understand. I have also experienced those that have sought to understand first and how incredible that feels. To my fellow friends that fight depression. I know we all handle it in our own way. That's what makes this fight such a struggle at times. There is no blanket way to help everyone at the same time. I have been on this journey for three years while some are just starting while others may have been on their journey for years. I have learned that quick judgements will be made, labels will be thrown our way, lack of understanding is prevelant and at times I just feel like yelling "stop judging me, I am fighting depression" just like times I want to yell "stop thinking I am a woman. I AM A SIR!!" I acknowledge your pain. I acknowledge your suffering. I acknowledge the many questions. I acknowledge the darkness. Don't be ashamed for having depression. For I also acknowledge that we do have purpose and that I love you! My prayers are with you on your journey and I hope you never get called the opposite gender in the drive through.