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.

That four letter word ... "Goal."

January is the month where a plethora of variety of resolutions / goals are born ... and later that month are usually broken. I am proud to say that I have completed one of my resolutions, which was to enjoy a nice cold Coke. Call that bad boy done and put a check by it. In fact, I think I will pause a moment and exceed my goal by filling up another cup with that fine beverage as I write. I am back and that sip I just took was awesome. I have to admit that I am not a big fan of the word "goals." So often that word that was created to better us somehow brings more angst and disgust than anything. When I was nineteen years old I went to the great lands of Seattle Washington to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, yep, I am a Mormon and enjoy being one. The only "measurable" goals I had experienced in my life before than was not to fail any classes in High School. Let me just say that I made it through with a little help from summer endeavors.  As I became a missionary I was introduced to numerous goals. They made sense to me. Basically they were to help any nineteen year old to keep the right perspective as a missionary so I had no problems with them. In fact, I got to set goals for myself that I felt I could accomplish. I quickly learned that one of the problems that may arise from goals is the person that tries to enforce them rather than love and help to achieve. I was introduced to a missionary, probably about twenty, who felt goals were not something to shoot for but achieve 100% of the time. I began praying to hit certain goals than actually be sensitive to those that could benefit from hearing the words of Christ and bring peace in their lives. One December, the other missionary I was serving with at the time, my "companion", and I had set a goal to baptize two people that month. We felt pretty good about it and focused on sharing the words of Christ. We were able to get a baptism but then the month was coming to an end quickly. I found myself praying more to reach the goal. There was one Sunday left and I prayed my heart out that we would hit our goal of getting another baptism ... notice I was so centered on the number I wasn't praying for anyone but for a check mark. Well, we showed up to church and miraculously there was a man that had showed up that we didn't know. My companion and I approached him and he turned out he wasn't a member of the church and was just visiting. I was so happy because there was a closer chance of hitting a goal. My companion and I talked with him briefly about baptism. In fact, after asking him a couple of times he felt it would be okay if he got baptized that day! Boom! Slam dunk on the goal! My companion and I left the gentleman for a minute and approached the Bishop of the congregation we were assigned to serve with. We were so excited about having a baptism and hitting our goal. I will never forget what the Bishop did at that point and what he taught me. The Bishop paused for a moment and then asked us what would be best for the gentleman, to be baptized today or later? I was shocked! What did he mean? Didn't he know that I had prayed for a baptism and now it was here in our hands, which I boldly told the Bishop. He paused and asked us again what the best thing would be for the gentleman. My reply was something about how I had prayed we would be able to get a baptism. The Bishop looked at me and told me that my prayer had been answered to get a baptism but was that the best thing for the gentleman to be baptized today and not perhaps later. We hadn't even talked to him about what we believed or what kind of commitments he would have to make. My hard heart focused solely on goals began to see what the Bishop was teaching me. I had completely lost sight of being sensitive to what the gentleman needed and really lost sight of why I was a missionary. I wasn't a missionary to check boxes on some list to look good to others ... I was a missionary to share with people the peace I had found in following Christ. We made several appointments to meet with that gentleman but he was a no show every time. I still made goals on my mission but I prayed for a greater ability to love and touch peoples lives.

Being that I am a little past nineteen years old now I have had my share of goals. Being a perfectionist, you can imagine how my list looked of personal goals ... I almost had to call them different chapters. I have also experienced having my foot in corporate America for many years and having "goals" given to me to accomplish. All I will say about that is having goals set for you by upper management that can't be accomplished just to look good for someone else is like them giving you the bullet to put in your gun and you shooting yourself in the foot. I better stop on that one before I light up like fireworks going off all at once rather than over a period of a half hour or so. Now, I believe it is important for me to note that I strongly believe in doing things to stretch myself to have me grow and I am the only one that really knows that ... you can call that goals if you want. I think that is how simple and real it should be. Throw depression and anxiety in the mix and you can imagine how difficult it can be as January comes around. I want to be a better person and I will work immensely hard on things that will help me grow but it will look different than what John Smith down the road is doing. What? We are different people and may be able to accomplish different things at different times? Thus, the other slippery slope "goals" can bring ... the exact same goals given to a group of people to accomplish individually with the best intentions possible. A wise man once told me that if you are "given" goals to accomplish and you do them to just do it ... don't. Do them for the right reason, which I feel is because you believe in them or because you feel like you can do them and won't bring an immense amount of stress. Isn't it amazing how having too many goals to become "good" or "better" can actually hinder more than help?  As I lay in bed every night and think about the morning, I know that I will wake up and find depression and anxiety waiting for me. Yep, there are days when I am not feeling up to the fight that day or begin it and just get my back yard kicked and kicked hard. Yet, I believe in being a better person and try it every day. Some days are better. So to my fellow friends out there fighting depression experiencing the feelings January can bring, know that I care about you and we can make it through this "fun" month. I will approach tomorrow with getting out of bed and then be happy with that. I will be the best I can and be happy with that. I think it is time for another Coke.    

Relief meet Joy

Stan and Ted have a huge test coming up in Honors Chemistry. The end of the semester is growing close and the teacher has reminded them over and over how the up coming test is 40% of their final grade. Stan would be more than happy if that was all the pressure he was feeling. His dad is constantly telling him how he will not accept anything lower than an "A" on the upcoming test. He continues with telling him what he gets on this test could actually effect what college he would get into,which would also determine how his life will turn out. Stan studies hours and hours every night giving up social events to make sure that he is ready for his test so he won't let his father down. As the day to the test gets closer Stan finds that when he is with his father all he can think about is the fear he is consumed with that he won't do well on the test. The night before the test comes and Stan stays up for most of the night studying only getting just a couple of winks of sleep. Ted cringes when his Honors Chemistry teacher tells them over and over about the importance of the test. Ted understood the first time and doesn't see the point about the careless repetition. He knows it is important and will study for the test. In fact, he even approached his father about the test being concerned about it. Ted's father put his arm around him and explained that the only thing he expects Ted to do is do his best. Ted studies every night but also spends time with his family and even other friends. Stan said he was too busy to do anything. Every time Ted is around his father, he encourages Ted telling him that he knows he can do well but again reminds him to just do his best. The night before the test Ted spends a little more time studying but gets a good nights sleep. The test day comes and Stan gets an "A" and Ted gets a "A-". Stan sits at his chair feeling such a huge relief that he didn't let his father down and he won't be angry at him. Ted smiles feeling joy knowing that he did his best.

Being able to settle for your best is very difficult for a perfectionist. The expectations run rampant like the waters of a flood ... especially around Christmas time for some reason. Every experience should be like those lovely Christmas commercials where everything is just perfect. They have everything in place including every ornament on the tree and they don't have dust on them. Well, guess what? Dust happens! As a perfectionist everything seems so highly crucial to the point that if it doesn't go well the future of the day, the week, the month or the year can be ruined. Achieving 99% of a task is nice but the 1% gets the attention. Why didn't I finish it? Am I not a finisher? What could I have done better? Being a perfectionist is a time bomb ready to happen because no matter how you try, no matter what kind of latest version of the coolest planner you have, no matter how committed you are ... you will fall. Accomplishing task after task turns into more of feeling relief than joy. Joy sadly dissipates as relief becomes more and more the feeling of accomplishment. When a perfectionist falls it's not pretty. It's not the wipe the pants off and get up scenario. It's the wallow in the mud scenario. Add depression to that and boom ... not so pretty or fun. I am learning to shift from perfectionist to a person that approaches the day by doing my best. Granted, there is the caution of not using "I did my best" as an excuse to purposely slack. Doing your best is just that and then celebrate the crap out of what you achieve. I have found that I cherish feeling the joy that come from achieving things doing my best compared to the relief I used to feel after being the perfectionist. I truly cherish joy and feel that depression, no matter how bad it sucks, has taught me a deeper feeling and understanding of it.