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.