Christmas Eve 2016

It is somewhat a surprise that I actually survived the last year. It’s exactly a year ago when everything came unravelled in what I thought was my life. It was the beginning of the end which turned out to be the creation of my revolution. You have to hit the lowest of the lows to really know what you’re capable of as a human being.

I though my world was crashing down on me. It started slow, like a first time rider on a roller-coaster. The anticipation of the climb to the top of the incline, I knew something was coming- but wasn’t sure what or how it was going to affect me.

You cannot prepare for it. It is impossible. You can try. Put in an effort, but still doesn’t prep you for the darkest holes we can reach. Sorry, reach is the wrong word. Reach is something you gain, like reaching the mountain top. You dig holes. That’s what I did. I dug a fucking huge hole. In that hole, there was no one but me and it was dark. Very dark. Light did not, and could not exist.

It is hard to explain without me sounding responsible. I 100% blame myself for what happened in my life. I am affected/was influenced by an illness that I have to fight each day. I am accountable for not getting help earlier in my life. Probably, as far back as my late teens. That is something I cannot control nor dwell upon. Rather, something I must accept and motivate others who suffer in silence to get the help. Breaking my silence was one of the most difficult, if not, the most difficult decisions of my life.

I have accepted that I was a bad partner. I have accepted that I disappointed my family. I have accepted that I was not the best friend possible. I have accepted that I may have wasted many years of my life by not getting help.

I cannot make up for the lost time. I cannot rectify mistakes I may have made. I cannot apologize enough to the people in my life that I may have been mean or disrespectful to. I will never be able to pay back people that have stood by me to ensure my safety. It’s humbling.

I thank you all.

Last Christmas was blurry. I remember only some parts- the bad parts. The holidays can trigger a lot of emotions, feelings, and thoughts. That’s why I came home to Newfoundland for Christmas. Yeah, it was very difficult being away from my son during the holidays, but I also felt it was very important for me to do what I thought and felt was best for my health, so I could be around for my son’s Christmas next year.

I still cry when I think of last year. I never cried so much as I did during the holidays of 2015. To the point where I couldn’t breathe. I had enough. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I couldn’t contain it. It was a complete mental and emotional breakdown. Ten years or so of negative feelings and thoughts came out of me through the tears in my eyes. To be honest, I needed that to happen or I wouldn’t be here today.

I still remember the first day of 2016. I was parked at the gas station near Halifax Airport. I was picking up one of my players. I found out earlier that day, my ex had moved on. That led to me believing I wouldn’t see my son again. It led to a lot of negative thinking. In hindsight, it was an opening for me to finally reach for help. I cried and cried on the phone. The tears slithered down my face like a snake. I didn’t know it was conceivable that someone could excrete so much liquid through their eyes. I thought I wouldn’t see another day. I thought my life was over. I thought of every negative thing possible. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on my worst enemy. No one deserves to feel that pain; only me. I deserved it.

It was only a few days later that I thought about hooking a hose up to the vehicle, pulling in the garage, revving the engine, and hushing the pain. End the torture. The suffering was almost over. 

Almost.

The end of my story would have read like this, “Hockey coach found dead in garage in team vehicle after an apparent suicide.”

But some lucky person didn’t get to write that. My parents didn’t have to read it. My friends and family didn’t have to read it. My son didn’t have to read it. My players didn’t have to read it. No one had to read it. 

If I killed myself, people would have questioned, "Why would he do that? He has a lot of good things in his life." People would have never known the truth because I never spoke of the truth of my illness to anyone. They would have never known of my mental illness. If I killed myself, there would be more people that would have no idea or insight on what Depression is. That is why i made a commitment to me, and others to help. 

People ask me what stopped me. I reflect back and I believe that answer is ‘hope’.

No clue what I was hoping for, but something inside of me said, “Not tonight, T.J.”

It felt like one voice versus a million. The odds were against me, but I had a chance because I had a breath left in me. That is all it takes. The hope of one little breath, one little voice. That was the commencement of my change. The inauguration of my new life.

Some may question me, “Why are you reflecting back on this T.J.?”

Simple answer, really. It allows me to show people how far I have come. But it also reminds me of how far I have come. It symbolizes hope. Quite honestly, I didn’t think I would make it to Christmas 2016. And now, here I am, 50+ blog posts later. Hundreds of messages from people from all over Canada telling me I have helped them or a family member. People have even told me I have saved their life. That is amazingly impactful to me and my fight. It has been a humbling experience, and I look forward to continuing to help people. Trust me, it is possible to fight this illness. I am walking proof.

Not only did I make it here, I have reached other milestones as well.

Saw my son turn four.

Saw my son play hockey for the first time.

Helped others get help or be there for them when they needed someone.

Met so many new and inspiring people.

Mend and renewed my relationship with my parents and sister.

Got a tattoo that symbolizes me. (Never thought I get one)

257 days of sobriety. No alcohol since April 2016.

16 days of suicide-free thoughts.

It is safe to say this holiday is a little more positive than last years'.

"The first step towards change is awareness. The second step is acceptance."

                                                                     -Nathaniel Branden

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Stepping Outside of Myself- December 5, 2016

I have said this before, "I do not like the reflection in the mirror."

I am trying to change my view on that, but for now, that's how it is.

But I have come across another way of looking at myself; getting outside of my body and soul and mind and looking at me as another person.

What do I see? Where to begin?

Physically, I see a tall man, that isn't overweight, but has somewhat of an athletic built. I see a guy that has a lost and emotionless face. Never focused on something. Always wandering with his eyes trying to find some answers around him. A man that hardly smiles and takes a lot to crack a smile. He is not a hateful son of a bitch, rather a man searching for something, but he has no idea what he is looking for. Hard to find something when you have no idea what you're looking for.

When I look at this man, you can't see what is inside of him. There is no way of telling what is on his mind. He looks to have something to say, but can't seem to find the words. He looks tired.Always. Never rested. Miserable could be a word to use to describe him. This young man I see looks like he is pissed off and saddened by life. Yeah, he is definitely lost.

He looks confused and unsure of anything. He is full of secrets or something. I can definitely see there is something on his mind. He looks healthy. I mean he is 6'2, 200 lbs. He is a young man. Looks fit. So he must be healthy.

I notice his hands. No wedding ring, so I can make the assumption that he is single, gay, or maybe has a girlfriend. I have to cover all the bases. His fingernails are depleted. Especially three of them. There is nothing there. Chewed down to the finger. I am not a psychologist, but that must mean something. Bad or good, it explains something.

He walks methodically. Slowly, he gets along. Step after step, he moves quietly.

He isn't confident looking. He looks sad and unsure. What can be wrong with him?

The only place where he looks happy is at the hockey rink. Out on the ice, moving around gracefully and helping younger hockey players. I see some genuine smiles from him. It is like a whole new person. Once he walks through the doors of a hockey rink, he transforms into something magical. He interacts with people flawlessly and effortlessly. Whether it is teaching them something or sharing a joke or smile, he is definitely at his best. It is evident to see he is at peace in this environment and loves what he is doing. This is his happy place. It is his sanctuary. He sure looks like he has some joy from this.

That is what I saw a few weeks ago.

Now what do I see?

Something that I have not seen in a long time. Maybe ever. He looks more confident in his life. I guess more hopeful is the proper term. Sign of progress. A sign of life.

He still has a shyness to him. Won't speak first unless he is spoken to. There is improvement. A sign of life.

He still moves slowly. I guess that is not a bad thing. Maybe he is taking it all in. Everything around him, he is observing without judgement and just taking life as it comes. A sign of life.

Smile? Yeah. He is starting to crack a few. He wouldn't fake a smile anymore, so that must be real. Joy. He is finding joy in the little things in life. He is getting wise. A sign of life.

I notice he says thank you a lot. Therefore, I can assume he is grateful. Expressing gratitude more has definitely changed his life. A sign of life.

The way his face and eyes lighten up when his son is around is amazing. Another part of his life where the joy and goodness is coming back. If it isn't coming back, he is developing it. It is never too late to make changes to you life. It is too late when you're dead. A sign of life.

Back into my body.

How did this change, or transformation occur?

Was it all the doctors, nurses, mental health workers, friends, family, strangers, medications, etc.?

Absolutely. They are all critical to my well-being. But there is something that is a prequel to them all. I have meditated and searched for the answer. It comes down to one word in my mind.

Hope.

I didn't quit because I had hope. I seek help because I didn't want to give up. It was just one ounce of strength I had left. When the rest of my body was telling me to quit and give up and kill yourself, there was still one little ounce of hope.

Without hope there is no beginning to getting better. When it is 3:37 a.m. and everyone in your life is sound asleep, you are only left with hope.

I was literally minutes from poisoning myself and ending the torture and suffering. Something stopped me. There is no doubt in my mind it was hope. The hope to live another day. The hope to fight this illness. Hope that I will see my son again. Hope I will see my family again. Hope to skate down the ice again. Hope to have one more breath. Hope not to quit and die.

I am not sure if hope can be quantified. Even the smallest amount of hope can change your life. It can save your life. 'Glimmer of hope' is an expression. I am still alive because that is exactly what I had; a 'glimmer of hope'. I am walking proof that there may be millions of excuses to quit, but you only need the tiniest amount of hope to save your life.

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."
                                          -Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Just Ramblin' On: Part Two- November 20, 2016

November 7, 2016

I put pressure on myself. I read about suicides about people from all walks of life. It is heartbreaking to me, but also comprehensible.

I believe I am opened about my illness and being an advocate to help others. I say to myself often. "T.J., if you kill yourself, your message would be lost." There would be no validity to my battle. Just a sad ending. Staying alive to continue fighting helps others. I am OK with the self-induced pressure. Not that I need a green light, but being open about my illness allows me to express myself, whether I am having a good day or bad day. Am I the face of Depression? No. But I am 'a' face of Depression. My transparency lets me share my story, bad or good.

November 9, 2016

I am terrified. Absolutely scared. After discussions, soul-searching, and realizations, I have found a new fear, rather, it has found me. The fear of growing old alone.

'Alone' is the re-occurring theme in my life. I am a very lonely man. For one, I know I have family and friend support. But no matter how many friends I talk to or how many times I talk to my family members, I still have the loneliness feeling.

I am lying next to my son. He's asleep. I should be too, but I am fucked. I just gave him a long kiss on the cheek. He does remind me of the good in my life. A part of me wants to wake him up to have a conversation. I look at him and my eyes begin to tear up. I have saddening thoughts and depressive feelings going through me as I watch him in peace. He fills the emptiness. He takes my attention away from the feelings. He breaths some hope into my existence. I am still. I am alone.

Thirdly, no one can ever love me. No one is going to allow me into their life and share it. Who in their right mind (not me, of course) is going to allow themselves to open up and love me? I am damaged goods with a lot of baggage. Maybe I am meant to be the lone wolf and go through life without a love. I can believe that. I can see that. I am not worth the risk.

"What risk do you mean T.J.?"

Risk number 1; finding me dead. That is as straight-forward as I can be. What if I act upon my suicidal thoughts one day and my girlfriend/wife/partner finds me dead? That kind of trauma can leave a lifetime full of pain. That's not the worst part. I say this now and I mean it; if I were to kill myself, it would be done in such a manner that my body will not be found. Talk of suicide is a 'touchy' subject only if we allow it to be. I am open and sincere; no one will find my body if I kill myself. Trust me.

Risk number 2: some event or argument or anything for that matter triggers me and sends me back to the hospital. Life events can cause my depression to get worse. What if my partner cheated on me? What if she fell out of love with me? What if...what if....and what if? I can write all night about the 'what ifs'. The future cannot be seen by anyone, therefore there are always 'what ifs' in every relationship. Don't be afraid of the 'what ifs' and focus on the potential possibilities.

Risk number 3: I become the emotionless, heartless, and fake bastard I was in my last relationship. I had no feelings. No emotion. Zero. I am improving myself not to allow that to happen anymore. I am doing good with it so far. Will I revert to my old ways? I don't think so. I also believe I will never put someone through that again.

I am not scared to give love a chance. I am just scared of growing old myself. I am not afraid to fail. I am not afraid to let myself open up. I am not afraid to be vulnerable. I am not afraid to be true to my feelings. I am not afraid to express my feelings. I am just afraid it all won't be enough.

"Is wanting to die different from not being scared of dying?"

November 13, 2016

Lately, my dreams have been very troubling. First, when I started my battle back, I didn't experience dreams I could remember. I just assumed it was a side effect of the medications. I took it in stride.

Getting to sleep was hard. Getting up was harder. Sleep was my temporary getaway from my demons or problems. I didn't have to deal with anything when I finally fell asleep. Somehow, it was peaceful. Somehow.

I have always had issues with remembering my dreams. Good ones. Bad ones. the next day I would try to recall them, but it was spotty at best.

Now my dreams are filled with depression and anxiety. I am not kidding. Some of my dreams have been terrorizing. I guess that is what a nightmare is. I have experienced nightmares before that would be scary. You know, like dreams where you are falling or dreams of monsters. These recent dreams are based on real-life events. Like daily happenings of everyday life. Depression dreams. Anxiety dreams. It's like I cannot escape it now.

The odd part is I can't seem to wake from these encounters. I have no idea if this is even possible from a scientific standpoint. If one of the only getaways I have from my illness is now being hijacked by the illness, where do I go from here?

November 18, 2016

On my road to recovery or to whatever I am trying to find in this world of mine, I have come to a realization. A quote I seen on Twitter made me think about something.

During my resurrection as a person, I have been trying to spread hope, inspiration, and happiness to others. Suggest that people be more grateful for the little things in life. Give in to your feelings more. Love naturally and don’t be hateful. Allow yourself to be vulnerable to let people in your life that can make it better. Believe in faith and trust, regardless of your past.

Now it’s time for me to stop being a hypocrite. It’s like a light bulb went off above my head. I am trying to suggest these ideas to other people to help improve their lives, I am missing telling one person; myself.

Yeah, I have been more gratuitous. I have been more mindful of other people’s feelings. I have tried to slow down my thoughts and think before speaking. I have allowed my feelings to come out organically. I do have faith in people. My problem is lowering my shield and letting people in.

Someone said to me the other day; “T.J., you don’t take compliments very well.” That person was right. I don’t.

I look into the mirror most days. I hate the reflection. The aspiration of the man I see looking back makes me sick. Why? Because I see the negatives and I magnify them. My biggest critic is myself. I don’t like anything I see, and I can see deeper than the skin.

Saying to me, “You’re not good enough” is no longer acceptable. It is too generic of a statement. 

What am I not good enough for? Everything.

Everything is a generic response, is it not?

How come I cannot take a compliment? I cannot find one thing good about me to compliment. It is sad. I don’t think anything about me is good. I have confessed all of my flaws in previous blogs. The alcohol. The women. The gambling. There is nothing to hide for me, but I am playing one huge game of hide-and-seek. It could be the longest game of hide-and-seek ever. I am the seeker and I am not even remotely close to finding anything or anyone.

I love magic. I know it isn’t real, though, I am impressed by the work and execution of the performer.

I consider my life one massive magic show, except this performer is not working and not executing. Continuously, messing up the trick. Back to the drawing board. Back to the very basics. How many steps backwards are required to take one step forward?

I spoke to my doctor today. He asked me if I feel different not having an ECT in two months. I told him lately, it is a rollercoaster. And like a rollercoaster, going down is the scariest. It’s like life. The rollercoaster doesn’t stop at the top, when things are good. As in life, it keeps moving. The only way to stop is to end the ride, hence, end my life.

Do I have daily thoughts of not being alive? I would be lying if I said no. It’s not so much suicidal ideas as, “You know what T.J., life would be better for others being dead.” A memory can last forever. I will not. Maybe I can sacrifice my life to increase mental illness awareness.

When the demons are pulling the strings inside, it takes everything else inside of me to fight. I verbally have to talk to myself. I am not crazy, but I do have to talk myself some sense from time to time. (Time to time is daily in my world)

"Life is never easy for those who dream"

                                        - Robert James Waller

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Just Ramblin' On- Part One

This blog is a series of nights I just wrote what was on my mind and what I was feeling. I am literally all over the map emotionally with this. Some nights I need to write a lot to help the fight. It may not even make sense to the reader, but makes perfect sense to me and helps me not kill myself. It's a sad reality, but that's what it is.

October 25, 2016

Today, my sister moved into a new place. Along with the furniture, came me. We are all excited as it is a house we can call home. For me, it is somewhat of a new beginning. New house. New neighbourhood. It's all new to me. I know I want this to be the beginning of something special. I don't know what that is yet, but I am hopeful. Really, hope is all I have right now. I have no job. I have no money. My son lives in a different community. I cannot support myself. What am I left with? The answer is 'hope'.

I hope to get a job really soon. I hope to be able to make some money and support myself a little better. I hope to be a great father. I hope to change my life for the better. I feel I am destined for something great. I am not sure what that is at this point or how I will get there, I just know I have the right attitude to get there.

The year 2016 has felt like the longest of my life. It has the same amount of days as other years, but the it has been long for me. In and out of a psychiatric unit. Back and forth hundreds of kilometers to get treatment. Lost my dream job. Fell in love with a girl only to not have her anymore. Not waking up in the same house as my son everyday. Diagnosed with major depression, anxiety, and OCD. People I considered friends lost their lives. My grandmothers don't remember who I am. Fighting a gambling addiction. Trying to stay away from alcohol. Watching my son grow up from afar. Phone calls everyday from collection agencies.

WWE Superstar, Randy Orton's intro music starts out as "I hear voices in my head...they council me, they understand...". That's exactly how my mind operates. I hear voices. Mostly, it is my voice. Mine, disguised in different tones and dialects. No one talks to me more than me. The things that are said are scary to the general population. But it is just another day in the life of T.J. Smith. The depressed mind can be a terrifying place. I know mine is.

Do I feel it yet? What is there to feel if nothing is left? There are no strange thoughts, from my point of view. Normal doesn't exist. I am not special either. I am just me. Some days I have no idea what I am doing, feeling, or thinking. It can be challenging.

If the doctor told me I have a 1% chance of getting rid of depression as to 99% chance that I will live with it forever, I somehow have to give my 100% to that 1%. I cannot quit because the odds may be against me. To give in to something that can hopefully be tamed is enough so I can enjoy and live life. I have to fight to make that 1% the best possible. I can either be a memory or a legacy. The latter is harder, but as is all great legacies.

Never give up something that is worth fighting for. I am beginning to realize life is worth fighting for. I keep making sports references to my battle. As I have said before, I don't know the score. I don't know what inning it is, period, quarter, or round I am in. What I know is I am still alive in the game, therefore I have a chance.

A single spark can burn down an entire city. I just have to be that spark and hopefully it flares into something.

My random thought of the night is about clocks. My question is, how more enjoyable could life be if we didn't have clocks? Time happens regardless. Clocks are just the measuring device. Clocks are involved in everyday life for almost everyone. Our alarms are set for the morning. We need to get to work by a certain, predetermined hour. We have lunch at this time. The kids get out of school at this time. Our classes are scheduled for a time. I have a meeting after supper at this time. Yes, clocks keep our days organized and structured, but it is also directly related to stress.

Imagine a day or weekend where your clock doesn't exist or matter. You go to bed when you're ready. You can wake when your body is ready. You eat when you're hungry. Time still exists of course, but the measuring device does not. It is almost impossible to do, but give it a try sometime; it may relieve some stress in our busy lives. You do whatever makes you happy and you can really get into the moment. For example, if you're enjoying a cup of tea with a friend or a book. If there wasn't nowhere for you to be at a future time, you can enjoy and be present in the moment. Back home in Newfoundland there are many quirky and local sayings. One that I've heard several times is, "Havin' a time". It is never referring to a clock or even the length of time between a starting and ending point. It merely means, 'enjoying the moment'. People are having so much fun and joy and laughter and spending time with friends and family. They are really, "having a good time". Hence, 'havin' a time'. I don't usually analyze and breakdown Newfie slang and sayings, but wanted to bring this one to the forefront.

November 6, 2016

Why do I allow myself to get hurt? Why do I even allow the possibility? Do I enjoy pain that much, unconsciously I want to get hurt  just to feel something? There is always a risk to opening myself up and allowing someone else in. So, now comes decision time; do I learn to put up a guard so I cannot feel this pain anymore? Or, do I continue to take the risk of letting people in and getting hurt? Am I impossible to love or like? Question after question. With no direct or decisive answer. Perhaps I should go on as a single man for the rest of my life. Can't really get hurt that way. Or maybe I can handle the emotional pain. Just another day in my life. I can't say I am sick of pain, because in one way or another, everyday I have to deal with it. Maybe my purpose is to take on all the possible pain and deal with it. Why? Because I can deal with it. It makes me feel alive. Twisted.

It was in the darkness where I found hope.

It was when I wanted to die that I found inspiration.

It was when I was down and out when I found strength.

We all have our moments of struggle when the past, present, and future looks bleak. With each breath, we get closer to death. It's not about the result. It is about what we do with those breaths. We will all encounter the same result.  It is easy to take a step back from everything and feel sorry for ourselves. It is easy to hide from the reality of life. Giving up is easy or not easy, depends on your perspective. We may never give up on our own children. We may never give up on our friends. We may never give up on our family. It is giving up on ourselves that is the easiest. Not believing in oneself is easier than believing. Quitting requires no hard work. Quitting is easy. Easy is not just. It is just a way out. A way to quit.

Accepting difficulties is not easy. Adversity is not easy. Being knocked down over and over is not easy. The truth is, in my opinion, fighting Depression starts with accepting the reality of it and all the elements that come along with it.

Step one in fighting Depression, or any Mental Illness is accepting the fight. Accept whatever the truth is. I don't mean giving in to it. I mean coming face to face with the truth of the illness. If you had prostate cancer, you wouldn't hide it. You would accept the actuality of it and do what is necessary to fight it. Accepting the reality of the matter is the hardest step. I hid my pain for years. It dug a hole into the very nature of my being. I wasn't willing to accept the truth of my illness. In turn, to cope, I became something I was not. It took years from my life. It just about took my life.

From my experience, step two would be deciding to get help. The type of help will vary for each person. Personally, I didn't know what options I had for getting help. Much like the stigma, I thought getting help meant I was weak and powerless. Bluntly, I thought I was fucked. I 'assumed' because of things I have seen on TV or in movies, that I would be locked up in a cell, contained in a straitjacket. I was not educated on the types of help there was for Depression. I never heard of ECT (Electroconvulsive Shock Therapy) before January 2016. I didn't know there were many different kinds of anti-depressants available. Basically, I had no clue of anything with regards to Depression or any Mental Illness. I got educated through my experience.

Step three is patience and enduring. Remission or recovery or battling isn't easy either. But it is a step in the right direction. You're on the right road. I have been on it since last winter. On this road, there are some nasty slopes that I have to climb. Sometimes, there are unproblematic down-slopes. There is all sorts of nasty weather. Fog, rain, snow, and wind. I have to push through it all. Staying on the right path takes discipline. In some parts of my life, I feel and see improvements. I have been suffering for many years. This 'fight-back' in my life hasn't even been a year. I need to put it in perspective. I am doing good, considering where I was and how dark it was there. I cannot avoid the darkness of the night on this road, but I need to remember that light comes each day is some form. Some nights I rest for a break. I go to sleep in the dark. I wake up in the dark. Those are the intense battles. There is almost bloodshed and if there is, I am at least still on the right road.

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."

                                     - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

My Opinion on a Newspaper Article regarding Mental Health in Nova Scotia -November 1, 2016

http://thechronicleherald.ca/novascotia/1409879-premier-calls-health-authority-letter-to-mental-health-patients-unacceptable#.WBIfW8sgsIQ.facebook

I am not outraged. I am not surprised. Nothing surprises me anymore. The world could start World War 3 tomorrow, and I would not be taken back at all.

I am not surprised by this article. Not one bit.

In summary, the article is about a mindless letter that Nova Scotia Health Authority sent out to clients. It was brought to the attention of government officials in Nova Scotia.

The fact that a psychologist wrote the letter is disappointing. No wonder there is a stigma behind Mental Health and Mental Illness when we have doctors writing thoughtless letters.

How can we change the general population perception on Mental Illness when the people that are suppose to help us are hoping we 'improved by waiting'?

As it is mentioned in the article, it is no different than cancer or diabetes or any other disease. I am no doctor, and don't have the stats in front of me, but I am not sure how many people got better between treatments for cancer just by waiting. I guess there are some miracles out there.

Unfortunately, there are more questions than answers available right now for Mental Illness. I am just a nobody that is suffering trying to make a difference. I don't have all the answers.

Will this letter mishap provoke more services to become available for the public? Not sure. There were almost 20 appointments per day in 2015-16 in one county alone. That's almost one for each hour in the day. More has to be done. Sadly, at this point, there isn't.

I hate the politics behind it. One leader is calling out the other party to do something. How about this; we are all Nova Scotians, how about we try to work together to solve this very real problem in our province? Just a thought. Maybe, it is a tactic to garner votes for the future elections? We need people that truly care about Mental Health and Mental Illness to speak up. Most of those people are someone that suffers from an illness, or has a direct family member that suffers.

Where do you go in Nova Scotia for peer-support for Mental Health? If I wanted to speak with a so-called 'non-professional', who do I reach out to? Waiting for months to see a professional is absurd. Also, some people don't really need a doctor every time, they just need someone who understands what they are going through so they can talk to them. I have had some nights where I have had suicidal thoughts. On those nights, I don't necessarily need a doctor. I need a fellow sufferer so I can bounce my thoughts and feelings off of them and maybe get some feedback.

I sound like a broken record, but if you do not suffer from a Mental Illness, it is almost impossible for you to understand. The people that suffer are the front line. Many people have reached out to me just to talk. I have talked about everything from types of meds, to hospital stays (bad and good), to family members neglecting them, to people actually believing that Depression means you are possessed by little creature like demons. That's just a few topics. It has been people I have known all my life. It has been people I have met through Facebook. It has been complete strangers. The moral of the story is people reach out to me and we talk because I understand. I have been through the trenches and I can relate my experience to theirs and try to assure them there is a reason to fight and to not take their life.

I am not a health care worker. I am no doctor. I am a normal guy that has an illness, but my experience has been helping people. Some people have even told me, I helped saved their life. I am humbled by this. But I can help. So can others who suffer. Just a thought, but why don't governments, especially here in Atlantic Canada, create Peer-Support Mental Health and Mental Illness worker jobs? Cancer can kill over time. A lung or heart disease can kill over time. A Mental Illness can kill you instantly. If my Mental Illness got to a point where I couldn't handle it anymore, I could take my life the very next minute.It is a choice, but a choice that is persuaded by an illness that is very real.

Oh, and Mrs. Chenhall, I will be sure to inform you if my illness 'improves by waiting'. I am sure you are very concerned.

"Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity"
                                                                                               - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith 

Knowing and Not Knowing - October 26, 2016

Do you know what I know?

I know the mind can create stunningly dark and dangerous thoughts

I know the heart can be so empty and hollow, that you don't show emotions for anything.

I know I am sick and it is not fun.

I know a lot of people with Mental Illness.

I know the past stresses me and the future worries me to the point where I cannot enjoy the present.

I know for me, it isn't always easy to get through the days

I know I almost killed myself.

I know I have had problems with alcohol and gambling. 

I know my Employment Insurance runs out and January and it scares me.

I know I am imperfect.

I know I talk a lot.

I know I am a mystery.

I know I have mental scars.

I know I have emotional wounds.

I know most days I think about death.

I know I was disrespectful to women.

I know I am in a lot of debt with a lot of companies.

I know 2016 has been the toughest year of my life, and maybe the worst.

I know a lot of people don't understand Mental Illness.

I know pain.

I know I was broken.

I know I needed help.

I know what hell looks like.

I know the demons that live there.

I know by saying that, people assume I am crazy.

I know I am not better yet.

I know I may never get 'better'.

I know I am not the only one.

I know how to cry.

I know the thoughts do not exit through tears.

I know people who want to kill themselves.

I know that nights can be endless.

I know the dark.....

And the dark sometimes owns me.


But I also know some other things

I know I have great friends.

I know I have an amazing sister.

I know I have tremendous parents.

I know I have a wonderful family.

I know my son loves me unconditionally.

I know he makes me smile and I make him smile.

I know there are people that can help me.

I know Mental Illness is not to be taken lightly.

I know people who suffer in silence.

I know there is a such thing as hope.

I know I am smart and educated.

I know strength.

I know resiliency.

I know how to cook.

I know addiction.

I know I love coaching.

I know I like writing.

I know I enjoy sports.

I know respect.

I know how to fight.

I know how to accept.

I know how to cry.


I also don't know things

I don't know where this illness came from.

I don't know if I will ever get better.

I don't know if I will not kill myself.

I don't know if I have seen the worst.

I don't know if I will ever get married.

I don't know if anyone will ever love me.

I don't know if I will ever get a job.

I don't know if speaking openly will prevent me from employment.

I don't know how to sing.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring.

I don't know if I will die alone.

I don't know if I can keep going some nights.


I also hope for some things

I hope I can keep going.

I hope I can grow old.

I hope I can love.

I hope I can have more kids.

I hope I can be a great dad for Nash.

I hope I can find a job.

I hope I can repay my parents someday.

I hope I am grateful.

I hope I am helping others.

I hope I can continue to find the strength.

I hope to get better.

I hope to inspire.

I hope someday the stigma is gone.

I hope people are true to themselves.

I hope to support others.

I hope to save people's lives.

I am...

Lost but winning

Hurt but strong

Alone but supported

Fallen but rising

Suffering but fighting

Beaten but recovering

Not dead but reborn

Down but not out

"Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings."
                                                     - Elie Wiesel

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

Highway of Thoughts and Feelings- October 18, 2016

Change is vital to me and my battle. Without it, I would be losing or worse, dead. Continuing down the path I was on would have brought me to my demise. Something had to be done. The past ten months have been the wildest and most dynamic part of my life. A lot has changed. A lot had to change. And I am still changing.

I do not fear change. Many people do. Accustomed to their ways or rituals or routine. That`s fine. There is nothing wrong with it at all. My life had to change. My habits had to change. My behaviour had to change. My attitude had to change. Almost everything had to change. Change saved my life.

I am not 100% sure where I should start on the things I changed, so I am going to start at the very top.

 

My thoughts and feelings.

Can I change the depressive thoughts or negative feelings that I encounter daily? No. I cannot and I know that now. What I am trying to change is how I deal with that. I may never be able to get rid of the Depression completely. So, what do I do? I have to develop a method to live with the illness.

I am beginning to meditate. It is amazing how much ten minutes can make a difference in your day. There is a saying I came across once, it went something like this; “if you can’t find twenty minutes to yourself to meditate, you need to find an hour.” I understand that. Anyways, in my meditation today, the narrator used an unbelievably simple analogy. We cannot halt our thoughts and we cannot neglect our feelings. They are coming, whether we like them or not. He referenced our thoughts and feelings as if it was traffic on the highway and we sat on the side of the road. It’s a highway so there will be vehicles. The vehicles are passing by. Different sizes. Different speeds. All different. It is when we try to stop those vehicles or chase them is when we get in trouble. If we stepped onto the middle of the highway, are we going to stop a car going 100 KMH? Not a chance. We would get ran over and hurt badly. Or imagine chasing a truck down the highway. If you were lucky enough to catch it, you would be completely exhausted from the chase. Therefore, chasing our thoughts and feelings can leave us exhausted and hurt, amongst other things.

So what can we do?

I know personally, I am having these up and down thoughts. I am trying to begin to be an onlooker from the side of the road. So, once a truck passes by, I acknowledge that truck (or thought), wave to it, accept it, and let it pass on by. I will still be there waiting for the next one. Like a highway, there are times when our minds are busier than others. There are good weather days and there are bad weather days. Some days there are very nice cars that pass and sometimes there is the same old rusty, beat up truck you saw yesterday. Sometimes there are new cars. Sometimes there are accidents we can't control. There are small cars and big transport trucks. They are carrying someone or something different. For me, the big transport trucks filled with Depression attract me. I am a sucker for them. Always trying to catch up and see what is it them. When I get there, I am disappointed.

At night, all we can see are the lights in the distance. Not entirely sure what kind of vehicle is approaching do to the darkness. In the fog, some vehicles forget to put their fog lights on and are on top of you before you know it. It gets slippery in the rain and snow, but most vehicles slow down then. I am trying to not chase the traffic or jump out to stop it. That will kill me. More ways than one

To sum it up, I am treating my thoughts and feelings as the traffic on the highway and teaching myself to be on the side of the road letting they all pass. No need to chase anything. No need to stop them. They are coming anyways, so I will accept that and let them pass by.

I am also trying to change my attitude. Thus far, I think it has been pretty sound during my fight. I truly believe attitude is one element of our lives we can control. Whether you’re battling cancer, approaching 100 years of age, have a sick child, jobless, trouble finding a partner, or financial issues, you decide the attitude you have towards life. There will be challenges in life. You can complain and complain about things, but it is up to you to do something about it. I have changed my attitude towards life as a whole. I am trying to be more mindful and appreciate each moment. I even catch myself telling myself to slow down at times. I am learning. I will get there.

Negative thinking breathes negative results. If you believe you are going to give up and quit, guess what you’re probably going to do? This past Saturday, I was very close to acting upon my negative thoughts. It was a tough night filled with cruel thoughts and unearthly feelings. But I learned through my newfound meditation method that I have to treat it like a highway.

I won’t leave you to imagine or guess what I mean. I will tell you from my own example.

So, one of the thoughts I had Saturday been to drive to Halifax and jump off the MacKay Bridge. For those that do not know, that is the bridge over Halifax harbour that connects Halifax to Dartmouth. But with that idea, it led me to feelings and other thoughts. First, of course, was my son. The first image/thought was him being a teenager about to graduate from high school. I saw his graduation ceremony. His mother and his step-father were there. I was not. It made me cry. The second thought was my parents at my funeral service. I am not trying to make this a sad story, rather share that these are the thoughts, not actions; I dealt with the other night. Third, I thought about the kids I am currently coaching. I get it. When I am dead, life will carry on. People will mourn. No big deal.

That’s what I deal with on my bad nights. The traffic of thoughts and feelings tell me, rather, lie to me. I am forever growing and developing. I feel I learned a new way to cope with those thoughts and feelings. Just like the cars on the highway, I know they are coming; I just need to accept it and let them drive right on by. No need to interrupt or fight it. I can’t stop them. Too big and powerful. They may be too dark or fast, as well. But I am beginning to learn that is OK. It is OK to have negative thoughts or feelings. How we handle them is the difference between living and dying.

So if you are reading this and you have recently had bad thoughts, I am telling you that it is OK. It may take awhile to understand that, I know that as well. Don’t fight the negativity. That's a tough fight to win. Rather, accept the feelings and thoughts, whether they are bad or good. Acknowledge them and be aware that you have negative thoughts or feelings. It is just like when people fall in love. Love is a great, emotional feeling. Should we fight it? Never. If something made you feel happy, would you look to fight that feeling? No, you welcome that feeling and how it makes you feel. It is OK to think and feel- whether it is positive or negative. The biggest challenge is to accept the bad with the good. It is the difficult thoughts or heartbreaking feelings that will build-up your character, your resiliency, and your strength. I will never give up and I will never let you give up. We are in this together and I am standing by you the whole way.

Saturday I wanted to give up.

Today I found a new way to find hope.

I didn’t quit.

Neither will you.

"If there is no struggle, there is no progress."

                                         - Frederick Douglass

Yours Truly, 

T. J. Smith

Suicidal- October 15, 2016

It's the first time in awhile that tears came down my cheeks. I am hurting tonight. I cannot get it together. This mental pain is exhausting. I can't get one thought straight.

I haven't felt this way in a long time. It's impossible for me to have a positive thought. Call me crazy. Maybe I am. This is difficult. Real difficult.

All I can do is imagine not being alive. It's either I fight and live, or quit and die. One option is hard. One option is easy. Right now, easy seems so simple to me.

I am not good enough for this life. I don't need to live.

I have people concerned. That is not my intention. I feel guilty. The power of this illness is unpredictable. I have to play the cards I am dealt. Tonight, I do not like the dealer. I do not like the cards. Maybe it is time to fold'em.

I can't run. I can't hide. I have to take this beating. It is a helpless feeling. I feel like I cannot help myself. I feel like no one can help me.

This is the part of Depression that I cannot understand. How the hell can I explain it to someone else?

I can't see the hope. I don't know what the inspiration is. I don't have the strength.

My thoughts are so jagged and twisted, they would make barbed wire look like a shoe lace. The thoughts are self-destroying. If I had any motivation or push, it would be over.

If I cannot fight and win, how am I suppose to help others? What kind of role model would I be if I quit? I would be a hypocrite.

There's no telling what inning I am in. Some days I feel and think I have this somewhat in control. Then a night like this hits me from out of the blue. How much more can I take?

I drove down the highway tonight. I had thoughts of closing my eyes when there was no traffic coming and see what the outcome would be. Should I be sharing this info? I don't give a shit. Any lies I tell plays right into the stigma behind mental health and mental illness. Yes, I indeed have dangerous self-harming thoughts. No, I am not crazy, but what do I know?

I am definitely knocked off my feet tonight. Lonely. Guilty. Troublesome. Useless. Worthless. Sad. Confused. Just some words I would use to describe my current thoughts and feelings.

I may have to accept this night as a loss. I have medication that can end this night. but I am not overly interested. The demons seem to have some good ideas tonight. I may indulge and give in to temptation.

I woke up next to someone this morning. I got to go see my son play hockey and coach his hockey. Then I got to coach my own team. Sounds like a great day. And it was until there was the unexpected knock at my inner door. The sleeping giant was awaken. More like the sleeping Demon.

You can't comprehend the frustration level. I can have a full day of positive things, and then with a snap of the fingers, I think long and hard about killing myself.

Mentally, I am drained. Physically, I am gassed. Emotionally, I am all over the place.

Depressed and confused. Sad and lonely. Useless and worthless.

I feel numb. I want to feel something. Numb is not good.

Do I understand Depression? No. I live it. Somehow, I am still alive.

I told someone the other day that you cannot teach or practice resiliency. Perhaps it is time to take my own advice. I have had Depression for years and by some minor miracle I am still alive. I graduated from university with a degree. I helped produce a child. I have got to coach hockey for the last six years. No idea how I am alive.

"Some days, 24 hours is too much to stay put in, so I take the day hour by hour, moment by moment. I break the task, the challenge, the fear into small, bite-size pieces. I can handle a piece of fear, depression, anger, pain, sadness, loneliness, illness. I actually put my hands up to my face, one next to each eye, like blinders on a horse."
                                                                                  - Regina Brett

PS: If I was to commit suicide, I would not post it on Facebook or any social media. No one know. No one would see it coming. Not even myself. It would done and over with.

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

Asking For Help- October 4, 2016

Asking for Help

Some days I walk around happy. Some days I walk around sad, but I fake the smile if I can. I have a programmed reply in my head for when people ask how I am. “Hi T.J., how are you today?” I quickly reply, without thinking, “Not bad. You?” I am not really evaluating how I am. I am just giving the answer that keeps me from getting into a lengthy conversation about how depressed I am and how it affects me daily. It’s my burden to bear. Not yours. Not anyone else’s. Just mine. I have major depression. Not you. You can’t possibly understand.

I am in a coffee shop. There are people all around. Reading, chatting with friends, feeding their newborn, and working on a laptop. Some of these people are affected by a mental illness. Whether they know it or not is another question. One way or another, someone within earshot of me has or had their life affected by a mental illness. I want to help them, if they want help.

Help, by definition, is ‘rendering assistance to’. I was ashamed to ask for help. I thought asking for help was a flaw in my design. An attribute of the weak. I felt weak. I didn’t have it in me to share my secret. It was a secret I kept from everybody. This is how depression, for me anyways, works with regards to help.

The feeling of guilt is a part of my depression. I am a well-educated gentleman. I know there are services and doctors and nurses that work to help people, whatever the sickness may be. It’s like I was chasing my tail. I knew I was depressed for years. I didn’t trouble anyone with my problem. I felt guilty asking for help. I felt and thought I was adding unneeded circumstances into their lives. I believed it was easier, sorry, and not easier; accommodating to not inconvenience others.

Depression makes me think that committing suicide is the answer to the help I require. If I am gone, well, I don’t need to ask for help- or anything for that matter. I couldn’t even ask the people that brought me into this world for help. I was ashamed to ask them for help. My memory is hit and miss, but I can’t remember when or how or why they came to Nova Scotia in early January, when shit was really hitting the fan. I remember two things from them coming to my aide; 1) I was sitting on the couch while everyone was eating and I just broke down and cried. I cried because I exhausted all options. I got hugs from my parents and my son’s mother. I was 29 years and I cried for my mom and dad to hold me. 2) I remember them bringing me to the hospital the day I was first admitted. We were at the hospital so I could get blood work done. They were persistent that I go to outpatients and see the doctor. I was against the idea. That’s what depression does- it clouds your vision of anything that is right. If they were not there to help me that day, who knows what would have happen? Well, I know.

What makes asking for help so vigorous? Asking for help invokes a guilty conscience within. Bothering people is not something I was willing to do. Who in their right mind would help someone who is “crazy”? As I said before, depression is like having a little devil on your shoulder, only difference is that he is on both shoulders. Depression beats me down and blames everything on me. I wish it wasn’t real. The doubts build up in my head. “T.J., go hang yourself. No one wants to help you. Life will be easier with you dead”. I needed help. I still need help. Help, keeps me alive. I thank you for that help.

I know depression is a liar. Depression creates a manifestation of fabrications inside my head and in my heart. I reflect back through the past ten years. I often wonder how I survived. I had help. Alcohol and gambling helped. No point in lying. If it wasn’t for those two things, who knows if I would be dust or not. I know now alcohol and gambling may have helped, but was not the answer. It’s like a boat taking on water. The boat can still stay afloat with taking on some amount of water. But too much sinks the boat, and the captain must go down with the ship. I was the captain and my ship was sunk. The salvage crew, my parents, family, friends, and professionals got my ship back to the surface. Without their unconditional help, my ship would still be on the ocean’s floor, slowly deteriorating until nothing was left to resurface. Now the ship is floating, slow of course, but the captain is at the helm and ready to fight any impeding storms.

Navigating my life through this illness is not a solo-mission. It will require assistance from others. I do not know how much, but it is necessary. Where the help comes from doesn’t faze me anymore. I realize there are people in my life that care and want to help, in any way possible. I am learning that I am not a nuisance. I need help. I can say it freely now. Do I rely on my family still to help? How else does a ship sail? A ship is only as good as its crew. I break it down to a simple question; do I want help and live or not get help and die? The way I see it, if death was better than being alive, someone would have already come back from beyond the grave to endorse it.

When I write, sometimes I go off on a tangent. The point of this blog entry is to let people know that asking for help or getting help is mandatory to fight depression, or any other mental illness. It would have been impossible for me to fight it on my own. Those who try to fight it on their own usually lose. When they lose, so does their friends and family. So, if you can take anything from my own experience, ask for help. Ask your parents, siblings, partners, doctors, nurses, me, someone or anyone. Yes, I know and understand that asking for help is not easy and is stressful. I get it. I was there. But asking for help is better than dying. If I didn’t ask for help, I wouldn’t have got to see my son play hockey for the very first time last weekend. If I didn’t ask for help I wouldn’t have reached the age of 30. Don’t feel ashamed or perceive it as being weak-minded. That is the furthest thing from the truth. Depression lied to me and tried to guide me down the wrong road. Trust me when I say it is OK to ask someone for help. If you don’t want to ask anyone you know, ask me. I am the olive branch to depression. I can help guide you through difficult times.

I needed help. I need help. I will continue to get help. Past, present, and future.

I am still alive. I am here for you. How can I help?

“When a person is down in the world, an ounce of help is better than a pound of preaching.”

                                                                               - Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Tour Guide of Hell - September 27, 2016

I haven’t written in a while. I am lying to myself again. Well, something is lying to me from within. I am not crazy. I understand what’s going on. I don’t expect you to.

My feelings are real. There are no lies. Just truth. Feelings hurt more than thoughts. I cannot run or hide from them. Whatever comes about, I have to deal with. I may not face them immediately, but eventually I have to play the cards I am dealt.

My thoughts create images. My thoughts create lies. Tell me things I don’t want to hear. I want to write something inspiring. I can’t find the words.

I had a thought today. Actually, what would be a frightening image to most is a blessing in disguise for me. My brain is a weapon that can kill at any moment if I let my guard down.

I am afraid of myself and the imagery I can construct. I close my eyes. My teeth are chipped because the gun that I hold in my mouth is vibrating from my anxious, but uncertain hand. I never held a hand gun before. Sadistically, I have a gut feeling I know how to pull the trigger. I have tears departing my blue eyes. The taste of steel is brutal. “You can do this”, I hear.

I open my eyes. There is no gun. My teeth are still whole. My hand still shakes. I notice it shakes a lot now. I don’t want to blink again because the next time I close my eyes, I may form another daunting image.

I don’t want anyone to understand. How can anyone understand that? Comprehension of depression is not possible. I don’t understand it 100%, and may never. I have accepted it as a part of my life. Some people don’t believe it is an illness. I invite you into my head for 2 minutes. You will then know it is an illness.

I am not in search of sympathy. I want reality. Pretentious people can leave me alone. I don’t need them in my life. All I am really looking for is support. Not understanding. I cannot and do not believe it is possible for people without depression to understand it. Your own child may suffer from depression, and you could not even know. You will not understand it. Never will. Much like I don’t understand life without depression. That’s why I say to others who suffer, “I understand”, because I do. It’s like our own language. I can speak all I want about it, but unless you know it, you can never understand it.

I am scared, but I tend to hide it. I hide it around my son. I hide it at the hockey rink. I hide it when I talk to friends and my parents. I am scared of my next step. I am scared of my next suicidal thought. What am I supposed to do? Walk around crying the whole day? Everything I am scared of is internal. In my opinion, when you overcome the fear of death, the next part is the scariest; how am I going to do it? Maybe I haven’t come up with a satisfying death sentence. “It will be special”, I confide in myself.

Those are the thoughts and lies I wrestle every day. I know my family wants me alive. I know my son needs his daddy. I know my friends want me around. I know these things, but I am told otherwise. The advice I am given can outweigh the truth some days.

The fight with the lies is on again tonight. I won’t hide anything; I am financially stressed the fuck out. I am not sharing my problems for sympathy. Remember, I am not looking for that. It’s my reality. It’s my situation and my life at the moment. I have to face it and deal with it head on. I know I need a job in the very near future. It worries me, but learned to not let the anxiety get the better of me. I know what has happened is behind me, whether it happened years ago or just a second ago. I may not be able to control everything that happens next, but I can undoubtedly control my attitude towards it. Some days I think being 30 is like being the oldest person ever and I am ready to be done. Some other days I feel 30 is great and I have 70 more years to live. I mean, I look at my friends; they seem successful and happy in their life. I don’t envy that. It is one of the few things that bring me joy. I am proud of them. More than they will know.

This personal battle is self-enhancing. Each time I get up after a devastating blow, I grow stronger. I learn more about myself. I learn I am unbelievably strong to still be getting to my feet in a fight with depression. This illness has humbled me. It has made me grateful. I think of the many that have fallen before me. I fight with them in mind. And for those that suffer, I cannot and will not quit, or let them do so, if I can help it.

The more I talk with individuals, the more I realize I am like a lighthouse. I can be the guiding light on the dark, foggy nights. When the seas are rough and tossing them around, I can be the beacon of hope that lets them know they are not alone and close to safety. My voice can be like the foghorn. The dangerous rocks are nearby, but so am I. Actually; my next tattoo is going to be a lighthouse. Ironically, I wasn’t a fisherman. I grew up on the coast, but I was always on land, like the lighthouse.

I have been to hell many times. I know the smells, sights, and sounds. I keep going back there when I least expect it. But by being there, it has taught me how to survive it. I do know the smells and where they come from. I have seen a lot there, and know what to believe. I heard most everything that goes on there. In a weird way, I am the Tour Guide of Hell. Let me show you around, but we are not staying for long.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

                                    - Winston Churchill

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

I Just Don't Know- September 8, 2016

I am tired, but I cannot sleep. I am thirsty, but I cannot drink. I am hungry, but I cannot eat. I have been here before. You would think my past experiences would help me this time around. They have not. I know this feeling. I know these thoughts.

I have looked this demon in the face before. Virtually, I am willing to give in. I have seen it play play out in my mind. Everything from the suicide note to apologizing to my son. How bad is my life that suicide seems to be the smartest decision?

I am lonely and no one is here. I am sad and have been for years. I am angry and I do not know why. Tonight, an incredible amount of anger has overcome me. Out of nowhere, I have become pissed off. If someone was with me, they would see it physically in my body language and more so, from my facial expressions. If I had company with me, and they made me more mad, I would snap. There is a ferocious feeling inside of me. I never felt it before. It's nothing I have ever felt before. Not even close. The only thing I fear is what is inside of me. Tonight, in this moment, I am the most fearful I have ever been.

Am I winning this battle? How will I know if I ever win? Is it about winning, or is surviving considered a victory with this illness? I may be still alive, but I am tortured. I don't fake my smile anymore. I am real about my illness. I have opened up to it. Faced it. Accepted it. Maybe I expected it to be easier, as I seemed to get better. Then these nights occur and bring my back to planet Earth and my reality. Perhaps it is false hope. I don't know. I never know.

Sometimes I daydream. I catch myself planning my own funeral. Wondering where I will have the service. Who will come pay their last respects. Sadly, these thoughts do not scare me. Maybe I already have it written down somewhere. If not, maybe I should. Put the thoughts down on paper. I know they are real. Perhaps I should record it for the record.

Am I desperate? Do I know what that word means? What am I desperate about? I could be desperate to die. That may be the only way to end these internal monsters. I could be desperate to end the noise, feelings, and thoughts. At some points, it doesn't even matter.

Seconds seem like minutes. Minutes like hours. And the hours seem endless. If clocks didn't exist, would I even care or notice? During my dark nights, I am told everyone dies. It is suggested to me that since everyone dies, I should take matters into my own hands and beat everyone to the finish line. I try to lie to myself and tell me that I am fine. Fine has no meaning in my world. I lie to myself more than anyone else. I am so alone and sad, the only company I have are my demons. They talk to me more than anyone. Sometimes, like a smooth-talking politician, they make very valid points. I begin to listen to them. I do not know why, they seem right and even worse, they have my attention.

If I didn't write or express myself, this would be the kind of misery and pain I would have to deal with bottled up. No one to speak to. I don't think about what i am going to say. I just let it out. 100% truth. 100% scary. If the board members inside me hear or are persuaded enough, they may come to an decision and take action, I would be left powerless. I would be found dead.

"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."
                                                                        - Mark Twain

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith