Blue Christmas

     Over the past few weeks I have encountered a few people who no longer celebrate the winter holiday known as Christmas.  Some, because of a loss of faith and others because of the sadness it brings because of loneliness due to the loss of a loved one.  Then there are people like myself who carry the burden of depression.
      The holiday season can be overwhelming for many.  For one thing, it starts too early.  I saw my first Christmas themed TV commercial a week before Halloween this year.  Yikes!  Really ... do we need to have it shoved down our throats that early.  Of course these ads are really about the shopping.  I get that.  As my wife will tell you I like to give gifts.  I especially like to give things that mean something.  Still, the assault on our senses during this time of year can be overwhelming to many of us.  It is very easy to lose ourselves and slip into the dark place.
     A year ago, just before I created this blog, I was driving home from work.  It was a few weeks before Christmas and I was in no mood for it at all.  Those that get Christmas cards from my family are very familiar with my annual Holiday Letter.  I usually have that written and the cards sent out by the beginning of December.  Not last year.  Not until the memory of my Dad and the joy he felt and gave at Christmas rushed into my head on that drive home.  I was so overwhelmed that I pulled over.  The flood of emotion jolted me out of my funk.  Once I home, I created one of the most satisfying Holiday letters I had ever written. 
      I have found that the key to overcoming a bout of depression, or melancholy is good memories.  Flash forward to today and I feel much different.  While I may experience a momentary dark period I am excited about the holiday.  Not the rushing around or the shopping, but the times with family and friends.  I know that there are those of you out there that want to just go to bed and avoid this whole season.  I am asking you to resist that.  If you have lost someone in the past or something has happened to cause this wonderful time of year to be less appealing, I say remember the good memories with family and friends.  Go visiting and enjoy their company.  We all want to be happy and it is within reach.  Ask for help if you need to.  Help will be given.  Hang in there.
     Know that I am thinking about you and wish you all the best.
     

Dog Tired

     Sometimes the title of this Blog is very appropriate.  There are days that you just wait for the next crappy thing to happen.  When it does you just want to go back to bed and throw the covers over your head.  Why does it seem that these things just pile on?  From the little things like picking the wrong line at the grocery store for check out to the bigger things like a leak in the basement that just won't go away and that will cost who knows how much to fix!
     That's the thing about depression.  It does a very good job of showcasing the bad in your life and nothing to let the good shine in.  It makes you forgetful and ungrateful.  It tells you that only the bad can happen and that you deserve it!  But if you close your eyes for a moment, take a breath and let your mind quiet,  you can begin to see the good.  The spouse who stands next to you while the bad things happen, the kids who hug and hold on tight to tell you how much love there is in the world and the friends who are there for you come rain or shine.
     Now please don't get me wrong.  Many of the "bad" in my life is minor and cosmetic.  It can be and will be over come.  It could be worse.  I know it can.  There are people out there that have had that "awful" thing appear in their lives recently.  Things that completely change their lives and of those closest to them.  But there is good news ... just look around at your family and friends.  They hold the key.  Close your eyes and take that big breath.  It's a bumpy road but we are all working on smoothing out the ride.
     Bless you all and thank you.

Falling through the Cracks

     One of the most important ways a depressed person can do to feel better is to never give up.  Education and asking for help are so important when it comes to fighting this disease.  While I have made some progress over the last year or so, I still find myself deep in the dark place at times.  So I ask for help.
     In a previous post I mentioned that my family doctor suggested that I my be ADD.  Regardless of what it may be called I told her that I wanted to see a specialist and knowing that many Psychologists cost upwards of $125.00 a session and knowing that I would not be able to afford more than four of five visits, we decided that I should visit our local Mental Health clinic where I could get in for free.
     I nervously waited for the day to arrive.  While I did not expect to walk out of the first visit feeling 100% better I did not expect to come out of it feeling worst but that's what happened.  I never mention names of people in my posts, not even my family's.  After all, they didn't ask to be written about.  So I am not going to mention the name of the Clinical Therapist I sat down with that evening.   There were two ladies in the room, one of whom was a student of some sort.  The usual questions were asked.  "Why was I here?  What did I think caused my issues?  What do you think you need to do to solve these issues?"  Frankly I found some of these questions very tedious.  I explained my situation, went over my history and talked about the dark places I could find myself in. I also told her that my family doctor suggested ADD might be playing a part.  The Therapist looked at me, always a smile on her face, and told me that I seem to be handling the situation pretty well.  I wondered what "pretty well" meant?  She said I was doing better than others in my situation.  I began to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.  After 20 minutes the therapist asked me to go to the waiting room while the two ladies talked my case over.  When I returned, the therapist smiled at me and told me that I was handling my depression fairly well and that she saw no need to continue but if I ever wanted to talk I could call the clinic.  Oh yeah, they don't handle ADD diagnosis.  For that I would have to go to a psychologist and pay that $125 and hour.
     The walk home was very cold and it was dark.  At one point I took a path between streets that had no lighting.  There were woods and at one point I could not tell if I was on the right path or not.  I would have screamed but I did not want to alarm anyone living close by.  I had great hope for that meeting.  What I came away with was that my issue was not enough for the clinic to attend to.  Maybe if I have come in and told them about demons or voices in my head I would have been taken more seriously.  I was not "sick' enough.  Yet there I was, alone on a dark path not knowing where to go next.  What does it say about our mental health system when someone reaches out for help and you get dismissed.  Yes, she did say I could come back and talk but I could see in her eyes that any further exposure to her would do me more harm than good.
    So a week of darkness was my reward for trying.  I know that it is important to pick myself up and start again.  I will see my family doctor next week and together we will come up with a new game plan.  I expect it will involve seeing that expensive psychologist.  I'll figure it out as I go.

The Diet Vacation

     This picture was taken on my first trip to Cuba.  Our group took an excursion to the local Dolphin attraction.  Here I am being lifted out of the water by two dolphins.  It was pretty cool.  I would have enjoyed it more if it wasn't for the fact that I obsessed over taking my shirt off.  I haven't been comfortable shirtless since I was about 17 years old.  As I left my teens my life long battle with my weight started.  Irony plays a large part in all our lives and the ironic thing here is that when I look at this picture I wish I was at that weight today.
     For the last month I have been on a diet strike.   That's what happens when you just want to eat what you want to eat when you want to eat it.  You dine out more.  You snack more and for some reason, at least for me, you exercise less.  I know what it takes to eat right and what good even a small amount of exercise can do.   I am just so damn tired! 
     I have tried so many times to get in shape.  I have been a member of Weight Watchers four times, Simply for Life one time and I currently belong to TOPS.  I have tried the herbal approach and I Sweated to the Oldies with Richard Simmons and his Card Counting program.  Some of these times I have had some success.  I could never get to my dream weight but I hovered around healthy.  I should have been happy with healthy and forgotten about trying to become the next male cover model for Shape Magazine.  That was never going to happen.
     As I look at old pictures of my self I realize that I was never in that bad of shape.  I was, am and always will be a big guy.  I have a large frame and most often people think I weigh a lot less than I really do.  We should always embrace the healthy and not the perfect.  Perfect does not exist.  Today I am in the worst shape of my life.  I get winded easily with a burning sensation in my upper chest when I go up stairs.  I am not at all flexible.  Even when I tie my shoes it is a struggle. I look tired most of the time.  My back, neck and knees cause me pain 90 percent of the time and I wear a CPAP mask to bed so I don't stop breathing in my sleep. 
     I have sought out and accepted help from friends and family many times but the truth is that unless I really want it, nothing is going to change.  My diet vacation is over.  Tomorrow I will start again.  I will try to develop a routine of good eating and exercise.  I will try to fit yoga and meditation into my life as I truly believe a healthy spirit is a key component to all of this.  I am not asking for help but I am asking for support and encouragement.  I owe it to the people I love and who love me to do this.
     Wish me luck.

Foot In Mouth Disease

Some days you just can't help yourself.  You're feeling pretty good about yourself and you decide to crow.  I don't crow very often.  In the past, most days I didn't think much of myself.  I have always felt very uncomfortable with bragging.  We all know people who are more than willing to tell you that they are best thing since sliced bread. 

My last post I revealed that my doctor thought I might be A.D.D. and that I was likely highly intelligent.  Now, right after I posted that installment of this blog my wife read it and she looked at me with a very quizzical look.  She had not heard the doctor quite the same way I did.  What she heard was "Do you think your husband may be highly intelligent?"  Meaning ... if he is A.D.D. and he gets the proper meds his true potential could be realized.  Not ... Man this guy is smart.  I thought about it and begrudgingly had to admit that what I heard and what the doctor said maybe two different things.  I won't know until they decide to try meds and certainly there is a more than fifty-fifty chance that it won't make a bit of difference.

Bragging never pays.  Sooner or later you'll eat shoe leather.

I'm Sorry Doctor. I wasn't paying attention.

September has many meanings for many people.  For a lot of us it is the end of summer and the start of a new school year.  For others it a time to get ready for the colder weather.  For me it's time to see the my doctor for my annual check up.  This involves going over my current medication and especially important it is time for my Prostrate exam.  At forty I began having yearly blood tests to check for Prostrate Cancer and when I reached fifty my pants hit the floor and I began coughing.  I few minutes of discomfort is worth the peace of mind for another year.  To all my guy friends who are in their forties and fifties, I hope you are following suit.  PLEASE! 

So this past Monday I had my yearly appointment.  I asked my wife to go with me because I wanted to discuss my depression and anxiety.  While I have made strides in some areas I am frustrated about other areas and I wanted my partner along to back me up and to fill in any blanks in the conversation.  We sat across from our Doctor and she looked up from her computer and asked me if I had good grades in school.  I was puzzled but knew enough to answer the question so we wouldn't get off track.

I was an average student in school.  I was able to get the grades I needed in subjects I had little interest in and excelled in the subjects I enjoyed and displayed lots of interest.  In grade twelve I failed math and while I had enough credits to graduate high school, I would have to go to summer school to repeat math.  Those six weeks were the best time I have ever spent in a class room.  The teacher was fun and able to convey the lessons is such a way that everything just clicked.  I not only did well, I got a perfect mark on every test and the final exam which I finished in twenty minutes.  Dalhousie University offered me a scholarship if I agreed to continue with math as a subject.  (I did not.)

The doctor smiled at us and told me that she suspected that I was A.D.D.  Attention Deficit Disorder!  I was surprised and skeptical at the same time.  Could this be true?  It seems that many persons who are afflicted with ADD get depressed, especially if they go undiagnosed.  Imagine, thinking that you are stupid because you can't focus properly.  That would bring most to their knees. 

I am going to be exploring this going forward.  My favorite part of the doctor's visit was when she turned to my wife and asked her "I wonder if you agree with me that your husband has above average intelligence?"  She looked at me kind of nodded.  All I could think was "Oh my God.  How the hell am I going to live up to that?"

It's probably not true anyway.  But maybe it is???

Train of Thought

I was recently at a local pub attending a good friend's birthday celebration.  There was a three man band playing some classic songs and more recent hits.  You know those kind of songs that Pub bands play that get your toes tapping and the ladies clapping.  After about four or five songs they asked for requests and I shouted out, "Do you know any Train?"  To which the lead singer looked at me and said, "We don't sing 'Chick' songs."  Humm.  I didn't know what to make of that.  I have been a fan of Train since their Drops of Jupiter album came out a few years.  I have always been a fan of story tellers.  Another of my favorites is Amanda Marshall but I wasn't about to yell that out.  They band would have bought me a martini or some other fru fru drink.
 
One of Train's more recent hits is called Bruises. The chorus goes like this: 

These bruises make for better conversation
Loses the vibe that separates
It's good to let you in again
You're not alone in how you've been
Everybody loses, we all got bruises
We all got bruises

Every time this song comes on the radio or my play list it gets my attention. It speaks to me.  Some songs do that for all of us.  When one comes on that means something, you pay attention.  It invokes a memory, makes you smile or in the case of Bruises, it gives me strength.  It tells me that I am not alone, that everyone has something in their life that they are struggling with.  The song also tells us all that we don't have to suffer alone. 

 

So find a friend and find out what bruises they are carrying and let them know about yours.  It makes for better conversation.
 

 

Long Days Journey out of Night

The journey of ten thousand steps takes a lot longer than some of us would like it to.  I have been writing this blog for seven months but my efforts to get better have taken a great deal longer. 

For every good day there are three or four bad ones.  For every accomplishment there are a dozen set backs.  The depression seems to be winning on some days but on others I feel it waning.  I look everywhere for ideas to help me defeat the beast that consumes. 

There are so many areas that, as a depressed person, I should and do work on every day.  Some days I just think about what I should do, other days I actually do something to step a little closer to the daylight.  I have been reading Gabrielle Bernstein's Spirit Junkie http://gabbyb.tv/ .  In it she talks about how, as we grow from infancy to adulthood, Fear takes over our lives.  It forces the Love from us and our Ego tells us that we are not good enough.  Gabrielle tells us that for years she lived in a state of Fear and after enough was enough she began to let Love return to her life.  In the book, when she refers to Love she is not speaking of the type of love you have for a family member, spouse or child.  She is speaking of a Love that lets you accept yourself for who you are and allows you to experience all of life's joys.

I am only one chapter in and I feel connected with what this woman says.  I came across the book by accident.  On my birthday I was given two gift certificated to a book store.  I felt the cards burning a hole in my pocket so the next day I headed to the Store.  I checked out my favorite authors and then began wondering the store.  In the middle aisle I found Gabrielle's book displayed amongst other self help type books.  The picture on the cover shows the author, hands in pockets, smiling confidently.  I picked it up and placed in with a pile of other books I had been considering.  Now I had lot of choices.  Spirit Junkie was not a sale book so it would take a big chunk out of my gift cards.  If I put it back I could by two or three in it's place from the bargain bin.  The choice was very easy.  A quote on the book said "A beautiful book with a profound message: Choose Love".  That is what I wanted to do so back went three of the bargain books.

My point is that there are always going to be opportunities to heal.  We only need to read the signs that keep hitting us on the head.

(For those of you who thought I veered from my path with my last Blog Entry, no worries.  Coming soon -- Rants & Raves.  My second Blog that will allow me to spout off at the mouth about just about anything.)

Television: The Good, the Bad and the Awful

Recently, Entertainment Weekly published a 100 best of all time issues.  Anytime a publication does this there is going to be some heated discussion amongst "so called" experts.  I include myself in this category.  The show that placed first among this group of "experts" was The Wire.  Now I was not a fan of this show simply because it was too dark and I don't have time to watch every show out there.  For that reason and for that reason alone I will not dispute this choice.  (I think they are so wrong.)  I was please to see that one of my own top five TV shows of all time was in their top Ten.  The Mary Tyler Moore show made it in at number four.

Now here is what is pissing me off.  I looked at that list three time and I did not find arguably the best TV comedy ever written.  Where was the Dick Van Dyke Show!!  The Brady Bunch was number 100 for crying out loud!  Now I admit that I was a fan of the Brady's when I was about to enter my teens but I have come to realise that it was likely because I wanted to see Marcia Brady prance around in her macro mini and tight sweaters, not because there was anything skillful about the writing or stories.  At best it makes my top 30 guilty pleasures.

For me a top 100 list should be chocked full of shows that bring back the best memories and would be able to stand up years after they have left the airwaves.  The Dick Van Dyke Show not only stands up but it was completely ahead of its time.  Sure it was silly at times. It was a comedy after all.  It also broke ground for women actresses and set the standard for work place comedies.  How this could not even be considered in the top 10 let alone top 100 is beyond me.   The EW staff says that "The Dick Van Dyke Show is a classic, but it’s just not a classic that resonates as much with the EW staff ."  Well, EW staff... that answer is just not good enough.  Not for me or countless others. 

For the record, here is my top Five list:
1 - The Dick Van Dyke Show
2 - Friends
3 - The Mary Tyler Moore Show
4 - The Big Bang Theory
5 - Modern Family

Yeah, I know, they are all comedies.  What did you expect ... I'm depressed.  I need a laugh.  Most of us do.

Black Friday

It seemed like a nice day.  The morning held lots of promise.  It was Friday and the first day summer.  It was bright, sunny and warm.  The drive to work seemed to fly by and I even got to work early enough to get a bit of a head start on the day.  Later that day my wife and I would be leaving for a wedding out of town.  There had been a lot of stress at work the past week or so due to the introduction of a new system that was leaving much to be desired. 

Let’s face it.  I make no secret that I am not happy in my current career position.  I do, however, try to do a good job and I get very frustrated when the line of communication between management and worker are not kept open and clear.  So many issues in work places could be resolved just by letting staff know what is happening.  If there are problems, when will they be fixed?  If the way you do your job is affected then here is what the company is going to do to make it work.  When those simple things don’t happen I begin to boil. 

I guess that may have had something to do with the beginning of my Black Friday along with the fact that I had just marked three years since the lay off and two year at my latest job.  I should be proud of the two years.  I have struggled and have made head way but I know that I don’t belong there.  No, I do not think that I am too good to work there.  Over all it is a good company and I work with great people.  I just don’t belong there.  So as that sunk in, my mood got darker and my productively got worse.  So at 3pm I left, hoping that a few hours at home would calm my nerves. 

Now, one of the worse things that you can do when you are in a black place is to go be by yourself for any long period of time.  Anyone who gets in these moods knows what I am talking of.  Sure, take 15 minutes or a half hour but after that do something positive for yourself.  Visit a friend.  Complete a chore.  Don’t do what I did.  I fell asleep.  By the time I woke I was anxious and felt sick.  But it was time to go to the wedding.  All I could think about was “Who wants to be around my dark cloud?”  But I did not want to disappoint my wife so I splashed some water on my face and off we went.

It was the best thing I could have done.  I was forced to be around people.  Happy, joyous people who were celebrating the love of two crazy, fun loving people.   Now, I did not go from black to bright in a snap of a finger but slowly, through the touching ceremony and then the gleeful  reception, I felt my mood lighten.  By 11 o’clock I was mentally drained.  I needed rest.  So I went back to the trailer we had stored on site and went to bed.  I read and listened to music for 20 minutes until my eye lids were drooping just right and by Saturday morning the Blackness was gone.

So that’s the lesson.  When the mood hits, take a moment to acknowledge it and then get up and do something positive.  It will make you feel better.  I promise.

The Gift of Parenthood

 

When you are a diagnosed depressive you have your good days and your bad ones. Sometimes the good days are great days or even fantastic days.

Today is Father's Day. It is always a special day for me and has rarely been anything but wonderful. For that past 18 years I have had the privilege to be a father to a spectacular boy. Yes, he has caused some grief in the past but whose kid hasn't. If, after 18 years, you can look back and say that 99% of the time you both got it right I think that is more than can expected.

For me, being a father and a parent was one of the hardest, scariest and most wonderful experiences of my life. I know that I am not finished. I plan on being around for many, many years and that I will never stop being a father.

Today, after my son woke up, he presented me with a gift and a homemade card. Here is what the card said:

Dear Dad,

Things have been amazing over the past 18 and a half years no matter what bad things have happened. I am so lucky to have a Dad like you who is so loving, strong, and confident in everything you do! I really hope that today is an awesome day for you and that things just get easier.

Love Harrison.

Was today a good day. Not even close. Today was an unimaginably great day!

Happy Father's Day to all.

 

How Lazy am I?

As a child I do not remember getting that many chores when I was young.  Being the fourth child of a very busy Mother and Father, I was often left to my own devices.  Sure, I’d shovel the sidewalk of snow at our Henry Street address.  That was about 15 - 20 feet of sidewalk which did not offer much of a challenge or work out.  By the time we moved to Young Street in my final year of High School I mowed the postage stamp sized lawn.  That took about 20 minutes.  But I was never asked to do anything “hard” or “back breaking”.  So I watched TV and read.

My love affair with the tube and books certainly led me to my career choice in Television Broadcasting and I am grateful for that.  In the early days at the community channel I remember joyfully putting in extra hours, sometimes not having a day off for three weeks.  For a time, in the late 80’s and early 90’s, I even had another part time job with the CBC as a cameraman and editor.  It was not unusual for me to work up to 16 hours some days. 

At some point I think I just got tired.  I know that I burned myself out and started to dislike my job.  I see now that this was more than likely a depressive episode.  I would get myself assigned to another task and after a month or two I got the creative itch again.  As my career progressed with the community channel it was harder and harder to move back into a position where I could be a creative producer.  My last promotion was likely one of the biggest mistakes I ever made career wise.  Becoming a manager was not the direction I should have gone.  At the time I wanted to become part of the decision making team and work towards a better channel.  I thought management was the best way to do that.  I was wrong.

What has all this got to do with being lazy?   As my depression came to the surface my desire to participate sank.  Sleeping, watching TV and reading became my crutches.  That’s a very hard thing for me to admit.  Now, don’t you think for one moment that I think that reading and watching TV are bad.  These are past times that I enjoy immensely.  It’s just that you can have too much of a good thing.  There is much more to life than what can be read in a book or shown on a screen.  Staying active and getting involved with a community group have helped me greatly.

As I look towards getting back on track with my chosen career in Television I do have fears that I will fail.  This is natural.  I don’t believe that I am lazy.  My past tells me that I am not.  I do always look for better, more efficient ways of doing things.  That helps everyone.   Is that lazy?  I don't think so.  I do know this.  The creativity is back and someone out there is going to benefit from it big time!

Stay tuned.

Driving in Cars with Boyd

Each weekday morning I have a conversation with myself as I take the half hour or so to drive to work.  It seems that this time is when my mind is especially clearest.  By then I will have shaken the cobwebs from my brain and the ideas finally begin to flow.   It takes breakfast and a hot shower to get my spirit moving these days.

There is something about being relatively awake and the promise of a new day ahead of you.  For me this was a harder space to get into six or seven months ago.  At that time I would often find myself in a very dark place.  It was all I could do to force myself to get dressed in the morning let alone get in the car and drive to work.   There were times when the anxiety and depression where so strong that I had to pull to the side of the road to gather strength.

These days I find that I have a more positive experience driving to work.  My mind will race from a painting I am currently working on to planning a workout after work to a story idea I want to pitch to my producer friend.  I promise myself that I will have a better day, eat right and stay “happy”.  I also wander into that fantasy area where I imagine myself working in the field of my choosing under my own terms.  I am able to do things with family and friends and tackle new hobbies like painting and photography.  It all makes for a decently, pleasant drive.

Then I get to the office.  By 11:00 am my stress level has risen to a point where I sometimes feel those 9am promises slipping away.  I have little “perk me up cards” on my desk that I flip through to bring me out of these funks.  Sometimes they work and sometimes they don’t.  The drive home is usually different.  Last fall and early winter the drive home was much darker than the drive to work.  It usually resulted in me sitting in the drive way shaking.  I just wanted to get into my pajamas and plop down in front of the TV or go to bed.  Not a good idea.  

These days, almost every weekday night, I have an activity or task to complete.  It keeps me busy and motivated and usually helps me go to bed with a better feeling of myself.  Each day I drive myself to and from work but what I am really doing is driving forward.

Your Downward Dog just bit me!

Part of any Depressed Person's recovery is to improve the physical as well as the mental.  When it comes to my own physical recovery, goodness knows that I am starting at the bottom of the ladder ... again.  Being overweight has plagued me for most of my adult life.  So I have started the fitness regime ... again. 

Recently a Personal Trainer friend of mine was kind enough to give me a fitness routine to follow.  When it came to the cool down and stretching she commented-- "Oh, you are very tight."  Now, for some that may be a complement but in my case it meant I had the flexibility of a steel bar.  Many other friends have suggested Yoga but I have resisted thinking that it was not for me.  I am so tired of not being able to bend properly to do simple tasks.  So when the opportunity came to take a class at work, during two lunch breaks a week, I decided to take the plunge.

My first thought was that I will most likely end up in a class room full of women.  I was delighted to see another, older gentleman sitting on his mat when I entered.  I was not happy to see that he could sit cross legged, back straight, with no sign of discomfort.  That is something I have not been able to do since I was .....  Crap!  I can't remember when I could do that.  The class was small and the leader was in her forties which I was grateful for.  The last thing I needed was some twenty year old getting me to lift my foot above my head.

As the class progressed I realised that I am much tighter than I thought.  I am not able to completely do any of the posses.  I spent a great deal of time pulling my track pants up and my t-shirt down.  I also found it very distracting that I could see down the instructor's top.  I have a short attention span sometimes and I don't need other issues coming into my head.  As the class progressed I started to loosed up alright but not where I wanted to.  I suddenly had to fart and it was not going to wait.  Ever hold a fart in?  It's not like holding a sneeze.  When that flatulence wants out it will find a way.  It was all I could do not to let it rip in the class but I can tell you this.  Who ever followed me back to the work area got a snoot full.

So I made it through my first two yoga classes.  I liked it.  I did feel better after.  I have a long way to go before I can lift my foot over my head but maybe soon I will be able to tie my shoe and bend over without looking like I'm ninety.

Namaste.

Captain Worry

My first real memory of worrying was when I was around the age of 9 or 10 years of age.  My family had been living in Halifax for 3 or 4 years by then and my older siblings had developed their "city" persona's.  Had we stayed in our small home town I am sure our paths would have taken much different directions.

My oldest sister had followed the path of rebellion.  My parents, having four children, had played the odds and sure enough one of us became the "adventurous" one.  Older Sis had made friends with a member of the local motor cycle gang.  That alone was enough to cause much friction, especially between her and my Mom.  Then one night she didn't come home.  I remember my Mother crying and telling my Dad that she was sure my sister was dead.  He assured her that she was not.  I have no idea if a search was conducted or if the police were called.  Many of my memories from childhood are sketchy at best.  Anyway, Sis is gone and Mom and Dad are freaking.  I am sure my other sister and my older brother were concerned but again, the memory is blank there. 

What isn't blank is the feeling that crept into my stomach that night and the fact that the feeling stayed with me for the entire time she was missing.  I think it may only have been for a night or two but for me it was like it was years.  That gut wrenching sensation would visit me many, many times after that.  I would stay awake at night if anyone in my house stayed out later than expected.   That carried on to my married life with my wife and son.  If they were not home on time then that familiar feeling of anxiety would rear it's ugly head.

There is always something to worry about.  I can't count on my fingers and toes the number of times the end of the world was to happen.  To this day I get very "pissed" when anyone spouts off at the mouth about the end of times.  How many children and anxiety ridden people have suffered because of this irresponsible act?  The thing is I started to notice something.  Someone would be late coming home or the end of the world was near and my anxiety level shot through the roof.  Then they would come home or the date of the world's demise would go by with nothing happening.  Was I responsible for these miracles?  I know it sounds silly but deep down I thought that because I worried, that bad thing that was going to happen, never happened.

So for almost 40 years I was on guard, worrying so nothing bad would happen to my family or the planet.  The thing is bad things did happen.  Relatives and good friends got sick and died.  People got in accidents and got hurt and God knows that the world is not in the shape it should be in.  So I finally went to my doctor who nodded and smiled and prescribed a pill.  I resisted at first.  I did not want to be one of those people who took pills to feel better.  But once I let the little white capsule do it's job I improved.  At one point I thought I was cured and convinced myself and my doctor that I could be weaned off the pills.  That was a mistake.  The anxiety came back with a vengeance.  So I went back on them and soon everything evened out.

I still worry.  I just worry about more realistic things.  I am able to put everything into context and to also rationalise my way to being calm.  All with the help from the pill.  Anxiety will appear now and then but for real reasons and because I am experience, I can even handle that after some deep breathing or a crying jag.

So Captain Worry hung up his cape sometime back.  Time to transition to a new persona.  What do you think of Major Common Sense?

No Room on the Talent Train!

One of the first things that Depression affects is the self-esteem.  Any thoughts that you had any skills or talent are out the window.  The ride seems endless as are the questions.  "Why can't I perform the simplest of tasks?" -- "What good am I?" -- "Why can't I think clearly?" 

The world is full of talented people.   Or is it?  I know everyone has a "talent" but what is a talent?  The dictionary definition is:

tal·ent (tlnt)

 

1. A marked innate ability, as for artistic accomplishment.

2. a. Natural endowment or ability of a superior quality.

b. A person or group of people having such ability: The company makes good use of its talent.

 

 

 

 

Can everybody really be talented?  Maybe what I really mean is Successfully Talented.  While it seems like there are a lot of those types out there I can tell you that true talent is more allusive than you'd think.  At times I have been called talented.   Take this Blog for instance.  Many of my close friends and family have said that I should be writing more.  "I should write a book!"  I look at my writing and can't see any talent. 

 

That is what depression does to a person.  It robs you of a future that you deserve and can achieve.  Yes, right now I look at my writing or painting or even the way I do my current job and I see someone struggling to keep his head above water.  But guess what?  I am keeping my head above the waves and I know if I keep kicking and treading water I will someday be able to stand up by myself and set foot on a nice, successful sandy beach. 

 

I refuse to stop dreaming and so should you.

 

 

 

 

 

Fighting the Bad Fight

Many times depression takes the fight out of you.  Giving up seems like the greater option rather than stand toe to toe with someone and let 'er rip!  My experience with fighting is that for much of my early life I avoided it. It was upsetting and made me want to bury my head in the sand whether it was me fighting or I was on the outside looking in.

These days it is still rare for me to show anger or even heated passion with anyone other than my closest family members.  I'm not even talking about my parent or siblings I am talking about my wife and son.  I feel that it is the depression that makes me want to get my back up whenever I am confronted with criticism, deserved or not.  And the thing is, the arguments are really about nothing.  I use it as an opportunity to run away.  My arguments don't last long.  It's just enough to make sure that I am guaranteed some time where I could be by myself. 

It has taken me many years to recognise what I am doing and am now learning to try and step back before an argument gets started ( Trying but not always succeeding.) and to learn what my Hot Buttons are.  Also, these last few weeks, I have learned that an extended time of angry is doing no one any good, especially me.  As I stated above, most times these arguments are about nothing.  Many times it is because I have blown up for no reason.  I can see that now and try very hard to apologise.  Even if I was not in the wrong, I see value in getting past it sooner.  I feel lighter and better able to get on with a day that has many other challenges.

The message I want to give my wife is that while these arguments are a pain, I get passionate about who I have the fight with.   And she's the only one I want to fight with.  That is a good thing as far as I can see.

Good Days ... Bad Days

 

A clinically depressed person can go weeks, months, and in the extreme, years without experiencing a good day.  A day where you experience that amazing feeling of contentment and joy.  Where nothing bad happens and you are not reminded that you are in a hole.  I'm not talking about a visit to Disney or some other place of amusement.  On those days, any feelings of happiness are fleeting and artificial.  You can participate in events that are fun and to the outside world you seem fine.  But to the depressed person that darkness is still there.  Just resting for a moment until it has caught it's breath. 

For those who live with a person of depression those false good days are very deceiving.  You see a glimmer of hope.  You see that person you knew before.  Then, when suddenly they are walking around with that dark cloud above their heads, you can't understand what has happened.  "What the hell!!"  You were sure that this was it.  Your husband, wife, parent or friend was in the clear. They were back and and the life you imagined could take up where it left off.  You may be angry.  I don't blame you and more often than not the depressed person you know won't blame you either.  You do not deserve this.  You did not sign up for this.

There is hope.  I am proving it to myself and others everyday.  This blog has been a big part of the recovery process.  I am finally fighting back.  I am talking and reading and exploring what it is that has caused this depression to happen.  Over the last few months I have engaged other friends and professionals for help and I can honestly say that I feel better.  Am I now a non-depressed person?  No!  Not by a long shot.  I'm just saying I am having "real" good days.  I have been surprised to find myself laughing and smiling more and on occasion, that feeling of contentment.  It feels good.  So good that I want to do it again so I am going to continue to fight.  If you, the depressed person reading this, joins me in this fight I promise that it is possible to feel this way again.  I am not an expert in any way.  I believe that I will have this disease for the rest of my life but I know I can manage it so that it does not rule me and only appears on occasion.  If you know a person who is filled with depression or anxiety don't give up.  Help them fight.  Yeah, you will have those days where you are completely frustrated and just want to give up. Don't run away ... just go for a walk.  Go to the movies.  Do something that makes you feel good then come back, roll up your sleeves and dig in.  We'll thank you for it someday.

The Fine Art of Backsliding

Many persons afflicted with depression are depressed for many reasons.  The list can be long and very specific to each person.  There are at least a half a dozen key triggers to my depression and one near the top of the list is being over weight.  For nearly my whole life I have been fighting this war. 

As a child I was not considered overweight but certainly pudgy.  As a teenager I had a brief flirtation with hunk-hood.  Somewhere out there is a great picture of me straddling my bike, shirt open, bare chested with a two inch cross hanging around my neck.  I think I remember seeing abs.  That is the only picture of me where I felt comfortable having a picture taken of me with my shirt off.

So, beginning in my early 20's I began the game of "lose weight -- gain weight".  I have always lost this challenge, ending up weighing more than I did when I started the weight loss journey "du jour".  I have tried many programs.  I sweated to the oldies with Mr. Simmons, I Atkins-ed my brains out, I tried to make it Simply for Life and now, for the four or fifth time in my life I am counting points as a member of Weight Watchers.  Now, I can attest that all of these programs work.  If you are committed and motivated you can lose weight but you need to make it a part of your life, for the rest of your life.  There's a problem with that.  Most of your friends and family do not want or have to follow any of these programs.  So there you are watching them eat your favorite foods while you sit there with veggie omelet because you used all your points for the day already.

Backsliding comes easy to depressed persons.  All it takes is some small thing to go wrong with your day.  That co-worker who says the wrong thing, your spouse forgets something that is important to you or maybe you still haven`t heard back about that great job you applied for.  So on the way home you stop and pick up a jumbo slice of pizza or the extra large value meal from your favorite burger joint.  I always figure if I am going to do it I might as well go big so I super size everything.  After all what is an extra patty of meat and a dozen or so more fries going to do? 

The good news is that a backslide is just that.  A backwards motion that is correctable.  All you have to do is stop, pick yourself up and start moving forward again.  If you can be honest with yourself you can look yourself in the mirror and say "We're not in a rush here.  We don't have to be bathing suit ready in three months."  This journey is a long one and it takes patience.  So if you need to go to the drive through on the way home go ahead.  Maybe you need it today but you don't need it everyday.  Get up from the table and start moving forward again.  And if you think you can't do it, look for help.  It's out there and it's closer than you think.

The Pain of Being a Wall Flower

For as long as I can remember I have been that quiet guy in the crowd.  I think most people who know me would not think of me that way.  What I've mastered all these years is the art of listening.  Now that's a good trait and I do enjoy listening but what I really want to do is have real conversations about real things.  I'm not sure where my outer quiet guy comes from?  Even with the closest of friends, more often than not, I find myself nodding along while they tell me about their day, pour out their troubles or smoothly speak of anything from Sports, Social Media, Politics or the latest Book that is a must read.

My wife and son are the exception to the rule.  I can speak with them about anything.  It is not a problem to spout on about what ever the topic.  It's because I know they will forgive me if I make an error.  Whatever I say, if I am wrong or even if I don't know what the heck I am talking about, they are fine with it.  No judging.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I know that most, if not all of my friends do not judge me in any way.  They're good peeps.  What happens is that I just start to retreat into my mind. Inside my head I am scrambling to figure out how to say something intelligent, witty or profound.  By the time I come up with something I am usually brushing my teeth before bed.

I have trouble remembering anything from my 20's and 30's now.  Was I always like this?  Have I always been standing on the sidelines?  If anyone out there has any insights I would be grateful if you would reach out and tell me ... what was I like around you?  In some cases I suspect people's opinion of me was that I was arrogant and stuck up.  My facial features screwed up while I was desperate to contribute to a conversation.  I have been in many situations where I just gave up and slowly backed away from the situation, retreating to a room where the television was on and conversation was kept to a minimum.

The good news is that change is possible.  Over the last few weeks, with the help and support of family and friends new and old, I have been pushing myself to get out there.  If I don't understand something I will admit it and move on.  I'll do my best to stay in the moment and to converse with the best of you.  So ... what do ya say?  Let's chat!

The Call Center Blues

  

Note:  I started writing this last Sunday hoping to  have it posted that night. Procrastination rules!


Sunday is a good time for me to write this latest episode. It's on Sunday that I wake up with a sense of urgency. I usually get up between 7 and 8 am. Why would anyone get up on a Sunday morning that early unless they had to ... right? I always wake up hoping that I will have the time to get "my projects" completed. Will I have time to write, paint, look for a new job or complete a much ignored chore? By Sunday afternoon the dread has arrived. It's only a few short hours until Monday and Monday means back to a job I dislike.  

Most people suffering from depression will tell you that it's their job that is to blame for their situation. For the last two and a half years that has been partially true for me. Now don't get me wrong. I work for a good company. The people I work with are fine people and they treat me well but its little consolation when by Wednesday your stress level has risen to Code Red.   I’m at my second call center right now.  The first was like being in hell.  A constant barrage of screaming and obscenities and that was just the employees in the washroom during breaks.  

Currently I work for an offices supply company.  When I applied for the job, almost two years ago, I thought ... I can do this.  I love office supplies.  There are so many things to organise your day and to make your life easier.  Selling them is another thing all together.  Every day I say the same things over and over again, making call after call in the hopes that someone will talk to me for more than two minutes.  Talking is a big component of the job.  At the end of each day I have to have spoken for 3.5 hours to clients.  Now this seems easy since the work day is 8 hours long but I suggest you try to time how long you are on the phone each day.  Most people may speak on the phone for an hour total.  And if you do talk for long periods of time it is likely not about office supplies. 

Most calls are the same.  “Hello, its Mike your Account Manager.”  Their response is usually a sigh, a hang up or an “I don’t have time for you today.”   I’m told not to take it personally but how can you not some days.  If I am lucky, each day I will talk to one or two clients with whom I have a good relationship.  They usually ask for help and I am more than happy to dig in and give them the assistance they need.  Customer service is the best part of the job but that is the problem.  That’s not my job.  I’m there to recommend products and sell them.  I get it but I fight it tooth and nail. 

By 6pm when I leave I am so mentally drained I do not have anything else to give. My wife and son are lucky if I grunt at them.  The weekends are used to re-energise but by Sunday I know I have to start the ride all over.   

So that is where I am right now.  I am starting to look out there again and I hope that I can find my way back to a vocation that I loved and was meant for.  Wish me luck.

 

 

Forgive and Forget? Yeah right!!!






So ... it's almost a week since my first post. I am touched by how many of you have responded in some fashion or another. Thanks so much. When I look back at what has brought me to this dark place I see so many triggers. I expect I will explore all of them within this blog at some point but today I wanted to say goodbye to a demon that has been plaguing me for quite sometime.

On June 15, 2010 I was asked by my Supervisor to come downstairs to an empty room in the building where I worked. It was then that I found out that my life was going to change drastically. My boss looked at me in the eye and with some emotion told me that there was going be some down sizing and that my job was seen as redundant. I was also told that it was only "business". Now all of this is likely true for the most part. For sometime I had grown restless and bored with my position and while a lay off was not what I was looking for I took it fairly well during that fateful meeting that warm June day. I choked back any emotions I had, smiled and shook hands with my Boss and the HR person who was there to help me in my transition. I walked out the door with my head held high.

Over the next few hours and days I beat myself up, convincing myself that I had done this to myself. I looked back on my twenty-seven year career listed the reasons that I was let go.

1. I was stubborn and argumentative with superiors when I felt that they were wrong.
2. I did not make friends easily. I still count only a half dozen or so people there that I would consider friends.
3. I did not care for the technical aspect of the position I was in and resisted training in favor of a more creative or managed organizational approach.
4. I kept to myself.

In other words ... I had screwed up big time. At that time I was not angry with them. It was my blame to bare. Over the next week or so, as I met with my supervisor and HR staff I smiled and nodded. I joked as I cleaned out my office that I was getting ready to retire the next summer anyway so this was okay. I gave advice about outstanding projects and inquired about bringing projects to them as an outside contractor. Everyone smiled back, shook my hand and then closed the door after me.

The summer passed quickly. I spent it vacationing with friends and volunteering at the local Film Festival. I took training on Job finding and waited to have the magic job genie grant my wish of the perfect job. By October I was in panic mode. I started to apply for jobs that I never imagined I would do. I spent my time daydreaming about working at my old job or finding a better suited position there. Soon those daydreams seeped into my unconscious and I dreamt at night about different scenarios where I would triumphantly return and be welcomed with open arms. It was hard to admit but I was angry. But I didn't want to them to know that I was angry. The last thing I wanted is to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they had won. The thing is that they likely don't give me much of a second thought. Maybe I come up in conversation sometimes... "Remember when Mike did that thing."

So it's time to say goodbye to this particular demon. What is past is past. I want to grow not shrivel with hatred. No one deserves that. They're not evil. They have issues and problems of their own. When I look at the list above now and think back to my contributions to that organization I can dismiss most of what is written above. I am proud of what I did there and happy to have been there. Yes ... I could have done better and so could have they. We all can do better. That's what I am trying to do now.

My next post I want to tell you what it's like for me now professionally. Stay tuned.