Troubling Night. A Disturbing Night. -Sunday, February 28, 2016

This is why Depression and other Mental Illnesses are so hard to understand. This is what my mind is telling me to do; "T.J., you can go into the bathroom, pull down the shower curtain rod. Once you get that in your hand, wedge it is the door. Once in the door crack, bend it. It will be sharp enough to stab yourself and kill you."

That's my thought at 7:41 pm on a Sunday night. Twenty minutes ago I kissed my son goodnight. Sadly, there is potential it may be the last one I ever give him.

What is wrong with me? I, or my thoughts, are devising a way to kill myself. I look around my room. My creative devil is turning everything into a self-inflicting weapon. I see another way how to kill myself. Dark thoughts. Dark thoughts that are coming out on this very page because if they stay inside of me, they will convince me to do something stupid.

Nothing triggered these thoughts. Just came about. Out of nowhere. No warning. Unforgiving darkness.

My mind races. My stomach aches. My heart pounds. My thoughts damaging. My feelings unstable. If I was not in the hospital tonight, something tragic may happen. I can't get the idea of killing myself out of my head.

No self-esteem. There is confidence. Confidence I could end my life tonight. Here is my goal; see my 30th Birthday. It is in a month. Will I be alive in a month? No idea. Saddening goal to say the least. It will be a struggle for me to get there.

I can't close my eyes. My mind is being over-ran by demons. "How high is the hospital? I mean, if I jump, will I die?"

Shortness of breath. Anxiety. Anxious to kill myself. Am I crazy? It's nights like these that lead me to believe that. I can't get the troubling thoughts out of my head. Sure, I can talk to someone. But they can't quiet these monsters. The glass is not half full. It isn't half empty. I could break the glass and use the sharp edge to kill myself. Slit my wrist. End the torture. They can study my brain. I would become a modified science experiment. Scientists could examine my brain to help cure Mental Illnesses. I am in agony. My thoughts are being raided by the Devil and his demons. No one healthy can understand this pain. I want to end it all tonight.

Why is this happening? Maybe it could be where we are switching medications. Doctor said there could be a couple bad nights. This is the worst yet.

Trying to have happy thoughts. That's a huge fail. I don't even know what they would be or look like. In my life, I have had more suicidal thoughts than happy feelings. It's a blowout. The score isn't even close. With no comeback in sight.

If someone looked into my eyes tonight, they would see the Devil. Helplessness is one of the worst feelings. I can't call or talk to anyone. No one can help with this. I keep drafting up suicide notes in my head. I wish the voices would silent. I am taking a mental beating tonight. I hope I survive. As much as I want to die, I hope I survive.

In my hell tonight, I do not see fire or brimstone. There is no heat. All I see is me. Me, extracting blood from my body. Dying, slowly. There is no more pain. As the blood exits my body, it takes the pain with it. The wounds transport the pain out of my soul. If I survive, only scars will be left. Visual, figurative, and literal scars.

No one is here with me. The monsters and demons with have everyone frighten off. No one will come near me. I don't blame them. They could get sucked into the abyss with me. My mind is ravaging my thoughts and feelings. "Please leave me alone", I beg. "Not tonight T.J.. Not tonight", is the reply.

The mind can only handle so much. My body is strong. I wish the pain was physical. I could deal with that. Mentally weakening. Profound feelings involving Death. Compelled to take action. Distraught and disturbed. Beaten down and stepped on. This is a nightmare. I am not sure how many of these nightmare episodes I can take. Time will uncover the truth. The truth is just.

The following poem describes my night;

I look in the mirror and what do I see?

No facial expressions. Just a blur

A structure of a man that has no Life

There is no soul. It is vacant

Controlled by tiny Sinners.

There is no fight back. No one to resist the urge

Ability to think and feel is omitted

Hijacking my mind and all that it holds

Separating me from reality

The feeling is lifeless and cold.

Shivers down my back and into my spine.

Damaging thoughts produce giant scars

There is no time to heal.

A wonderful night to lose this fight

Falling back with no one around

Tricks of the mind are powerful

I am losing hope and struggling to cope

All hope is lost. All that is lost is hope

Nothing more, nothing less

The Kiss Of Death

Greatness- February 23, 2016

Somewhere I once read the line, "Good is the enemy of great." Next time I do something important to me, I am going to ask a simple question. "Is this the best I can do?" It could be satisfactory work, but I am not going through life being satisfied. I am going through life to be great. To live an exciting life. To be the best father possible. Being satisfied is no longer accepted by me. I cannot reach my potential be being satisfied. 'Good enough' is no longer 'good enough'. If being satisfied and good enough works for you, that's fine, you're life. It doesn't work for me. Not anymore. I have begun to live my life striving for greatness every day. Once I reach a pinnacle, I will look to the next mountain top. And when my bones turn to dust and my eyes close for the very last time, I will have no regrets. Just greatness.

Achieving greatness is not easy. It doesn't happen overnight. Greatness is a lifestyle. A choice of how you live. How hard you work. I used to go through life not doing anything to be great. Depression restricted my life. It really did and it still does at times. I don't compare myself to others. People tend to do that. I am sure I probably did it once or twice before. It humours me now. People, looking for others' approval or trying to be better than someone else. Here's an idea; try to be better than yourself. Each day, try to be better than the previous day. The previous hour, the previous minute. Time doesn't stop. Your greatness doesn't have to either. You have to be your own benchmark. Keep getting better. Break your own records.

How to be great? I am a strong believer that everyone is unique and they can be great by focusing on the 'controllable factors' in their life. An illness somewhat controlled me for some years. I am working on fixing that. Once I get some kind of stranglehold on my Depression, I will be able to live my life and be great. What am I going to do? I have some ideas.

1) Smile more. Hopefully the medication does its job so I can get my smile back. No point going through life sour. Smile, people are more opened to someone smiling. Don't go through life with a frown on. Hard to have fun that way. Outside of having a medical condition, you can control your smile.

2) Read and write. Majority of people read. But how many write? I have found that writing has changed my life. I journal every day. I am reading more than ever, as well. That's how I learn. That's how I strive to my greatness. I reflect on my writings to see how far I have come and to monitor my daily improvements, or regressions, in life. I am not longer arrogant or stubborn. I embrace learning. Reading and writing make me great.

3) You must play your own drum and go to the beat of it. I am not suggesting becoming an ego-maniac. Not one bit. But you have to live your life, your way. Don't worry about what people think. Do not look for their approval. The hell with them. I like to use shopping with the opposite sex as an example. Whether it is a flaw or weak point of mine, I don't care. I hate shopping with women. If I go to a store, I have a reason, purpose, and goal. Rarely do I leave with more. And when I shop, I wouldn't ask the people I am with if they like the shirt I like or thinking of buying. They're not wearing it, so why should I care? Well, women used to get mad at me when I went to stores with them. "What do you think of this T.J.?" Or, "Do you like this colour?" My honest response was blunt, and often perceived as rude. I would reply, "I don't care. You have to wear it." How the hell am I suppose to know if that shirt makes you happy or not or if it is nice. I didn't study fashion. I am a functional-clothes-wearing-athlete. Buy what makes you happy, not what pleases someone else.

4) Set daily attainable goals. When you reach a 'set goal', you feel better. Here's my example. Since my diagnosed, I have set small daily task. Like, shave my beard or check the mail or workout. The point is, whether it is big or small goal, you feel great about it when you reached it. All the small daily goals added up become a pretty accomplished week. My goal today? Shave and define my goatee. Simple.

5) Do 150 push-ups per day. If you do that in sets of 25, six times a day, seven days a week, you will end up doing 1,050 push-ups per week. I am doing some as I write this entry. I feel myself getting stronger. I see more definition in my chest. I have more confidence. It just makes me better. I do the push-ups regardless of my daily workout. It takes maybe 5 minutes a day. I find it effective.

6) Talk to at least one friend daily. May sound simple, but when I was in the midst of my Depression, I didn't speak to my dearest friends. I felt the disconnect. It was my fault. I knew it, but felt so shitty. I didn't want to bother them with my issues.

7) Gratitude. Be thankful. We tend to forget to be gracious. I even caught myself saying thank you as the dealer was dealing cards last night while playing cribbage. Two simple words that have so much weight and meaning.

8) Accept challenges. I used to turn away from things. Simple things such as a phone call. I avoided everything in my life that was potential to cause me more stress. Don't be afraid of challenges. Before your time is up, you will encounter a lot. Be ready to tackle them.

9) Get up early. This will be a tough one for me. A challenge (Point #8). I don't mean get up at 8:00 am (Which is early for me). I mean 5:00 or 6:00 am. Get up and it will give you an extra hour or two each day. More time to live life. "Not enough time in the day", is what they say. Well, my answer is, create the time. I am going to try to get up every morning at 6:00 am and hopefully be at the gym by 7 am. It won't be easy for me, but it is something I can control. Something I am aiming for.

10) Do not live life in fear. I used to fear everything imaginable. Stupid little things. I used to fear people. I often write and think about fear. There's only one fear I have now, and that's the demons inside of me. External things do not scare me anymore. Reason why? Well, honestly, I do not fear death anymore. It doesn't scare me anymore. Pain, I love it. Living a fearless life gives me confidence and potential for greatness. People do not scare me anymore. If you been to where I have been, you would understand why. There is nothing for me to fear anymore. Fear should fear me.

These are just 10 ideas I am going to live by. I developed these ideas from reading, research, and reflection. I borrowed some of the ideas and put my own twist on some of the others. Bottom line is, greatness doesn't come to you. It doesn't find you. You have to seek out your greatness. Your greatness will be different than mine. Rich or poor, strong or weak, old or young, sick or not, anyone can become great. Greatness requires hard work, discipline, and commitment. All three elements are free and controllable. How great can I be? I have no limitations, therefore, in my opinion, my greatness can be infinite and powerful. I am going to be great. I am going to change my life.

"Greatness comes from fear. Fear can either shut us down and we go home, or we fight through it."

                                                                                                                        - Lionel Ritchie

Yours Truly,

T.J Smith

Happiness or Pleasure- February 23, 2016

I have been reading the book 'The Greatness Guide' by Robin Sharma. I particularly like this book because he is a leadership consultant. He has worked with some of the most successful organizations on this planet. The chapters are very short and to the point. He is an intelligent man. How short are the Chapters? Well, I am on page 122 and it is Chapter 55. So far, Chapter 55 has stood out.

Only 3/4 of a page in length, but it is a perfect Chapter. The Chapter is called 'Pleasure versus Happiness'. What's the difference? In school, when asked to differentiate between two meanings, I would always start by defining each word. First word. Pleasure. Pleasure is enjoyment or satisfaction. Happiness is being content, glad. The difference according to Mr. Sharma is pleasure doesn't last and it is derived from our five senses. I am paraphrasing, but his point is, pleasure comes from something on the outside and happiness comes from within. This point really stood out to me. Why? Let's evaluate Depression.

Pleasure can be purchasing a new car. Pleasure can be having a great tasting meal. Pleasure can be skating down the ice. Pleasure can be from being in good company. Pleasure can comes from its truest form, sex. Happiness, well, happiness doesn't really exist for someone suffering from Depression. Pleasure can be affected by external factors. You can have a big house, nice clothes, fast cars, couple credit cards, but it doesn't always equal happiness. On the flip side, someone could be living on the street and decide to be the happiness person on Earth.

During my Depression, I have encountered pleasurable things. Food, sex, good company, and playing hockey. Was I happy? Not a chance. The illness prevented that. I know that now. As much as those things were pleasurable, they didn't last. As soon as you swallow, the food is gone. As soon as you climax, the sex is over. When your company leaves, they are gone. When the buzzer sounds, the game over. Pleasure doesn't last. Happiness can.

Am I happy yet? Question cannot be answered it is entirely yet. Am I beginning to understand the word and feeling more? Yes, 100%. I am hoping that someday I get to control my happiness. I don't need or want to lead a life based on pleasures alone, because they don't last forever. Happiness can. I can die with a smile on my face. I can literally take that to the grave with me- once I discover it. I am hopeful. Can't take pleasures to the afterlife with you. They are left behind after your last breath. People will remember you for your happiness. Not your pleasures.

I look at adultery as the perfect example. People cheat. Why? Do they want to get divorced, lose their kids, and half of their money and belongings? Probably not at all. I will speak from the male perspective. Men cheat because of two reasons. 1) They are unhappy or 2) (which is the most favourable) They are looking for some pleasure. Something to make them feel good, but it doesn't last. I am not judging or promoting it, I am just speculating to as why people do it. I am not a critic. I am not being a cynic. If you know someone that has cheated, ask them why. It's because of happiness or pleasure, more often than not. Or lack thereof. That's just my opinion on the matter.

Don't let someone dictate your happiness. Remember, you decide that. If you are not happy because of people in your life, leave them or work on the relationship. Don't go through life unhappy. Yeah, I know how this sounds coming from a man who suffers from Major Depression. But during my time in the dark shadows, I have done a lot of thinking. I am right. Life can be hard, trying, and simply unfair at times. During those bad or even terrible times, a person can still choose to be happy. They can still choose happiness. It's your life. You only get one shot at it. It's not a game of Mario Superbros where you can get extra lives by eating green mushrooms. This is reality! Happiness is real, so I read. You just have to find it, and when you take your final breath, you will either know you died happy or unhappy. That is up to you!

"Depression can seem worst than terminal cancer, because cancer patients feel loved and have hope and self-esteem." - David M. Burns

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

Hospital. Round 2- Monday, February 22, 2016

Well, I didn't even get a month from being released for the hospital. I am back. I had to. There was only one other option. I was lucky enough to see my psychiatrist. She said my reoccurring thoughts about suicide may be an obsessive disorder. Just as well to add another thing to the list. I do not anticipate I will be here for long this time around. I feel safe here. This place puts my frightening thoughts at bay. They are still there, the voices. I feel they cannot hurt me here. It's my safe haven. A place I feel comfortable.

I do not view my return to the hospital as weakness. I see it as courage to seek professional help. It was the right move. I am not ashamed. I am scared. Scared for my life. I need this help. They take away anything that I could possibly kill myself with. I thought coming back would be a bad thing. It is not. It is right. It is smart.

You have no idea what I am capable of. None. I do. I am fearful of it. Returning to the hospital may appear like a setback. Oh well. I don't care. It may be a backward step, but a necessary step. I wrote earlier that I may have to return. I have no shame. I am not embarrassed. I am alive. That's what matters. They all know who I am from my first time here. And they are as nice as ever. If I didn't seek help, something bad would have happened. Mark my words.

I just re-run the visual of running the knife across my arm. It's a recycling thought. I bet the blood would be warm. Oozing down my wrist and into my hand. This thought, this thought will not go away. This thought, it's horrific. But in reality, it is just a 'thought'. Not an action. A thought. Something in my head. Dangerous, indeed, but just a thought. Saddening, but just a thought. Confusing, but just a thought. Nothing triggered this thought. It came. Unwelcome. I wasn't and I am not ready to handle this on my own. Not at this point. This is my road to recovery. A minor relapse.

I am telling the truth, so here is more raw information. I spoke with a doctor this morning. Told him about the consistent suicide thoughts, especially about the knives in my drawer. Quite accessible. He also said it could be some kind of disorder, much like a person with OCD always needs to wash their hands. So, he gave me a pass. Told me to go home for a few hours. Told me to look in my drawer. Face the knife. I did. I picked it up. I analyzed it with my eyes. I tested the sharpness. I know its primary function. I even went so far as placing the cold steel on my wrist. I didn't apply pressure. I tested myself. I pushed my limits. I didn't want to kill myself. I could have, or at least attempted. But I didn't. I made a decision.

Reaction is something that is provoked by an action. Usually, the initial reaction of a human being isn't what we want it to be. Not quite actual. For instance, the circumstance I am currently in. My reaction doesn't impede me from getting the help. Before, I am willing to bet, my initial reaction of returning to the Psychiatric Ward would have been terrible. A negative thought or feeling. The opposite currently holds true. My reaction was positive. Your attitude towards events in life create your reaction to those things. To other events. To experiences. Your attitude is everything. I have to go back to the hospital. That's my event. My situation. My attitude allows me to understand that this is smart. How I cooperate with the nurses is something I control. How I communicate with the other patients is something I can control. My pleasantness. My kindness. My understanding. All stems from my positive attitude towards this setback, adversity, if you will. It's nobody's fault why I am back in the hospital. This is a difficult situation. But my attitude determines how I am going to deal with this.

It would have been a bad thing if I didn't come back. The curiosity was overwhelming. Could have got the better of me. Anyone that knows me, if I set a goal, I accomplish it. I see things through. Motivated. But I didn't give in. I was close. So close, the thought of, "I wonder who would find my dead body on the floor?" came up several times.

My journal entry has two points. One, sometimes a 'setback' or 'failure' is a necessary step. Critical, in every sense of the word, in this case. I was doing well. I hit a dark, brick wall. No one other than professionals were going to help me. I knew that. I done the right thing going back to the hospital. The second thing is this; your attitude is everything. If you're attitude is negative or pessimistic, guess what you will live your life like? Guess who your children model themselves after? You attitude is something you can control and you decide how it is going to be. You can't blame external factors. It is on you, and you only. My attitude is keeping me alive. I decide that. I choose that. Not you. Not anyone else.

"A positive attitude causes a chain reaction of positive thoughts, events and outcomes. It is a catalyst and it sparks extraordinary results."                     

                                                                         - Wade Boggs

"Weakness of attitude becomes weakness of character."

                                                                        - Albert Einstein

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

A Bad Day. A Real Bad Day. - Sunday, February 21st, 2016

I feel like a prisoner. Like I am in a jail and surrounded by criminals. Rapist. Murderers. Serial Killers. Arsonist. Instead of actual inmates, it's my thoughts and feelings. I am not suggesting my thoughts are about rape or murder. I just feel like I am a prisoner with my horrible thoughts and feelings. The warden does not care. The guards do not care. No one cares. Some days I am allowed to walk around the yard. Some days I get visitors. People indicate prison can be hell. Well, my prison is hell. It hurts me. I get headaches. Nothing matters. I am scared of my prison. I think I want to break out, but I don't know how.

The 'inmates', they are not friendly. Not one bit. They torment me. I can hear them down the hall in the cells. Frightening voices. Taunting me. The lights are out. It's dark. The guards are all gone home. The only thing keeping me from the others are the bars. But they are not real. I can see them. But they don't serve their purpose. It doesn't keep me safe. Maybe if I cannot free myself from this prison, I can break all of them out? So I would be the only inhabitant. Only then, maybe I will be free. Maybe not. I am not sure. I am not too sure about anything anymore.

Things were going so well, weren't they? I had a pretty good week, outside of a few speed bumps. I overcame them. I felt support from others. I was kind to people. But, now, today, I feel like it is like one of my original days in the hospital. I missed our game in Bridgewater. I had all intentions of going and was excited to go- yesterday. I was getting ready to go today. Stopped for a brief moment, and then out of nowhere I broke down. I don't know why. I have no answer.

I feel worthless. No good. Nothing positive. I couldn't bring myself around 20 young men. Not on this day. Not the way I am. It's not their fault. I feel like I have let them down. I felt like that for awhile. I am letting everyone down.

It is hard for me to understand this illness. It is playing sick tricks on me. Most of the week was good. Today, it's like one step forward and fifty back. If I cannot clarify what is happening to myself, how can others begin to understand? I can't explain it. I am taking my medication. Apparently doing the necessary things like eating better and exercise. I met with my psychologist this past week. that also went well. It is unexplainable. A real-life mystery.

I can't pinpoint a trigger. I opened my eyes this morning and got ready. Then, out of nowhere, a kick in the guts. A blow to my stomach. A sucker punch to my face. A figurative beat down. I don't believe in excuses anymore. There is just truth. Reason. Where is the truth and reason with this Depression?

To understand the unknown, maybe I need to first re-evaluate the facts of my illness. Mostly, everything is as advertised. How the meds work. How the exercise makes me feel. How I am working on my relationships. My journal entries. What I cannot get is a firm grasp of these 'surprise attacks'. Hence the word surprise. And attacks.

I cannot prepare for them. I cannot tell when they may come about. There are no warning signs. Nothing to give me a hint. It comes out of the shadows unannounced. Inviting itself to ruin my day. I cannot escape this jail, this prison. It's very depressing. "Well, no shit T.J.. It's Depression."

I keep saying people fear the unknown. This is my fear. My unknown. The uncertainty of these bad days. How bad can they get? I feel like a burden to people. It is a difficult feeling. I cannot understand this at all.

A cyclone of thoughts. Twisting around and around. With no orchestrating path. No pre-determined purpose. No sense of direction. No pattern. Swallowing up anything good in its path. Destroying everything along its route. A tornado, out of control, with no indication of when it may subside. I know it must stop at some point, but how much damage will be done? When natural disasters occur, the only number society cares about is loss of life. I wonder how many victims there are of Depression?

I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to associate with anyone. I want to be a ghost. Non-existing. Sometimes I feel like a ghost, an aspiration. Floating through life. Seeing life pass me by. Feeling cold. Unconscious to anything real. I feel as if there are weights tied to my ankles and the surface of the water is only an inch away. The weights keep me from reaching my next breath. Something keeps pulling me down. Preventing me from living. It's days like today that makes me wonder if I am better off 'gone'.

It's hard to think positive. My thoughts and feelings block the positivity. Blocking anything that is good. Hurting me in ways that words cannot explain.

I thought this past Wednesday was bad. Today takes the cake. A new low. Terrible way to start the week. Is tomorrow going to be better? I do not know. And what sucks is I have to get up and find out. Do I need to go back to the hospital? Do I need to increase or change my medication? Or do I just 'deal' with these days? My dealing or coping is wearing out. It's tired. I am fighting to stay alive. I won't lie. Thoughts of not being alive came across my mind, not once or twice, but consistently today. I am not acting upon those thoughts, but they are present. It's tough. It really is. Yesterday may have been the best day in a long time for me. Then it is followed by the worst day since I have been out of the hospital. It was so bad I didn't want to talk to anyone at all.

What to do next? My thoughts and feelings are entangled in barb wire. Cutting away at my mind, my insides. I want to scream, but they cannot escape  my body. Pain is inflicting my soul. My well-being. Misery. I cannot control this yet. That frustrates me. I cannot tame this beast. The demons are caged up in me and the key to the door has been thrown away. There is only one way to set those demons free. And it is the easiest thing to do at this point. To end the pain. The misery. I could give in. Silence would never sound so sweet. But I cannot give up that easily, can I? I mean, it is an option. But in life, the easiest options are a virtue of losers, the unsuccessful. Like a light switch, I can make it all go away. Make it quiet. Make it dark. No more taunting. No more tormenting. No more teasing. No more of anything.

Even the music is not helping tonight. The writing helps a little. It is coming out of me today and tonight. Feelings turned into words. Thoughts into ink on this page. I guess they are escaping my mind for the time being. But more keep replenishing my mind. It's terrifying. Relentless. This could be bad.

It's almost 2 am. Sleep will be limited tonight. I think I am writing so much because I have a lot to discuss. I don't want to call anyone at 2 am. What will anyone say that will quiet the monsters inside of my head? There is nothing to say. These monsters do not listen. You think you have them under control, then they come back to life on their own. This is no way to live.

I think I put my earphones in and blast the music to hopefully dull the other noises in my head. It's loud in there. All day. Since 7 am. These voices, they won't stop. The thoughts keep cycling around. Not even a whisper today. It's all loud. Pretty persuasive, too.

This is why people are scare to talk about Mental Health; I just looked at my drawer in the kitchen. I know there are knives it there. Here's the scary part. Ready for it? The thoughts, rather voices in my head calmly say, "What if I just cut myself a little?" That leads to a follow-up question. "How much blood will there be?" I know there will be no pain. That doesn't scare me. That's a 'crazy' thought? Maybe. Rather, it is a thought of a person that is suffering severely from Depression. It's a real illness. Tonight, it is verifying itself.

I am going to continue to write. Maybe I have a glimmer of hope I may talk myself out of it. Where did I go wrong? I am literally talking, or trying to talk myself out of committing suicide. What will help?

Nash. You, my boy. You're going to save your daddy tonight. You're not here with me, but you're going to help me through this tonight. What are you now? Three, almost four. What do you want to do buddy? You're the light. I close my eyes. What do I see? I see a little version of me. But, Nash, you're stronger than your old man. There is something special about you, my boy. Every time you walk into a room, you light it up. You really do. You make people smile. That's a gift you were born with. I have never saw you not make someone smile. Daddy can only imagine it right now or look at pictures. My eyes are full of tears as I write this. As much joy you give me son, it hurts so much. I can't even get out of my bed, slowly open up your bedroom door and check to see if you are OK. I feel like I am losing you. I am not there for you Nash. I am so sorry buddy. You're my best friend in the world. I am suppose to protect you. Keep you safe. Fight for you. I am letting you down. I can handle the pain of the demons inside from my illness. That pain I can endure. This pain of not seeing you every day is hurting daddy more than the Depression. The only bit of future I can imagine right now is you growing up without your daddy. I am so sorry Nash. I miss you so much. I find it hard to call you because I don't want the conversation to end. I am trying buddy. I am. I am trying to stay strong for you, but it is a real struggle. I feel like I am not going to see you grow up. It hurts me so much. Nash, I don't know what is going to happen, but you need to know that you are my greatest accomplishment. Of everything in this world, it is you that I am most proud of. I love you the most.  

Accepting Me and Parenting Knowledge

There are a lot of people in this country that don't quite understand Mental Health issues. I am not getting into that. I only know what Depression can do to a person. To his family. To his friends. To his son. To his partner. I know. I lived that hell. I hid it. Not very well. But enough. So my next sentence maybe my most important one ever.

I have accepted that I have a Mental Illness; so should you. Last time I checked, I am a human being. Not an illness. Don't worry if I cough around you. My illness is not contagious. I have said from the start of this fight; Depression doesn't define who I am. I am a person. Just like the 7 billion others on this planet. Please treat me as such. Don't look at me and say, "There's T.J., don't talk to him. He's Depressed." Listen, I will make this point bluntly and clear; if you don't want to talk to me or be in my life, just tell me. I want transparency. I am not a plague.

I have become good at perceiving people. Someone recently asked me, "Do people talk to you differently?" Yes. Some do. They got to right because I am cookoo. I am gone off my rocker. Easy folks. Do yourself a favour. Read. Yeah, read. Learn about Mental Health. Don't make assumptions. Educate yourself. Don't be ignorant. A lot of you Retweet #BellLetsTalk in January. Take 10 minutes and maybe read about what you're supporting. If you don't want to learn more about it. That's fine. It's your life. But don't criticize. Don't speak of what you do not know. Don't assume you know what Mental Health is about. I learned so much in the last two months. I used to assume. Thought being depressed was a mood. A feeling I could kick. I was wrong. Almost dead.

I am not saying you need to know every fact. No. But familiarize yourself with the basics. I read another blog the other night. There are about 3,500 suicides in Canada per year. Anyone good at math? How many is that daily? Scary stuff? Absolutely it is. What else is scary? Cancer. Yeah, cancer is a scary mother. But we, as a society, tend to be more comfortable talking about that. But that "S" word. Boy, better not talk about that. Well, how can we learn about it if we don't talk about it? I am a Human Resources Major from a pretty good business school. One thing I learned from a very smart professor is that adults learn better with repetition. Repeat. I will continue to reiterate about Mental Health. Someone used to tell me I ask stupid questions. I tell my son there is no such thing as stupid questions. If you do not know, ask. Even if it may sound silly in your head. I ask questions that people think are stupid. I don't care. Not looking for their approval. Just an answer. A question could be like this, "What types of Mental Illnesses are there?" Simple question. Many answers. Don't be afraid to ask about anything. There are never stupid questions. Just ignorant people.

 

I am going to identify a particular group. Parents and guardians. Yeah. I am talking to you. I can have an opinion because I am parent. I am going to challenge you. And in this challenge, you will find your true self. This will show yourself how well of a parent you are. I saw a line in a book I am reading. I am paraphrasing, but it was like, "who you truly are surfaces only when you're placed in a position of discomfort." Your child telling you that they have thought about suicide is most likely the most discomfort you may ever feel. You must educate yourselves. If your children cannot speak to you, who will they speak to? You need to be there for them. You need to support them. I am not asking you to understand their thoughts and feelings. For example, my parents cannot even begin to understand where my thoughts take me. The places it brings me. There is no light there. But they don't need to feel or think what I am. They need to learn about Mental Health. They have been researching online and asking questions about Depression. Learn what help there is for people that suffer. Learn the different types of Mental Illnesses. Learn that using certain words does hurt. It hurts a lot. But we don't tell you, because you do not know. You need to find out more about it. Ask questions. Parents are not suppose to bury their kids. So, please, if your child needs you, regardless of age, (I am 29 and I needed my parents badly), help them. It's not your fault that they have an illness. It's nobody's. If they had cancer, you be doing whatever you could do to help them. Do the same for their Mental Health. Instead of adding to the problem, become a part of the solution. Is there a perfect answer for everyone out there? No. But put in an effort to help. Again, if your own child cannot look to you for guidance or support, who do they turn to? The demons inside of them? I hope not.

I can openly talk to my parents about suicide and other dark thoughts now. Before I couldn't. They wouldn't like it, or tell me to give it up or they wouldn't know much about it. Now they know I have a REAL illness that requires REAL medical procedures. Create an environment where your kids can feel comfortable talking about Mental Health issues. Don't be scared to learn more. Your child needs you. There are many websites out there. A quick Google search on "Mental Health" or "Depression" or "Anxiety" will point you in the right direction.

We need to talk more about it. It is not a weakness. I am not weak because I am emotional and can shed a tear. I am not weak because I express my feelings. I am not weak because I had thoughts of suicide. I am not weak because I cannot control some thoughts. I am not weak by admitting I have demons inside of me. I am not weak by seeking help. I am not weak because I swallow four to six pills daily to make me feel better. I am not weak because I feel lonely.  I am not weak because some days I cannot smile. I am not weak because I lean on my parents for support. I am not weak because of this illness. Rather, I am strong.

I am strong because of my family. I am strong because of doctors and nurses. I am strong because of social workers and psychiatrist. I am strong because of my friends. I am strong because of my son. I am strong because of my medication. I am strong because of strangers. I am strong because I express my feelings. I am strong because I can talk about suicide. I am strong because I can fight my inner devil. I am strong because I can take the pain of punches from the beast inside. I am strong because of music. I am strong because of words. I am strong because life is worth living. I am strong because I can shed a tear. I am strong because I am emotional. I am strong because I wasn't ashamed of my illness and got help. I am strong because I refuse to lose. I am strong because I am declining Death's invitation.

"A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles." -Christopher Reeve

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

This is My Life. My Story.

A smile cannot be fake. It has to be real. I couldn't smile in pictures. I would feel my face cringe and my eyes squint as I tried to smile. Even as a kid, I don't remember smiling a lot. I may have laughed a lot, but a true smile? I don't know. I have been sharing my feelings and emotions and thoughts the past few weeks. I have complete strangers telling me I am helping them. It's humbling. I have wrote a lot about my time in the hospital and what I wrote while I was there. Now, I feel it is time to share my life. Who am I? I am not too sure. But I do have a history, a childhood. How to pinpoint when I started feeling Depressed? Well, maybe a trip back in a time machine will help.

My mother spent a lot of time giving birth to me, so I am told. April 1st, 1986 I entered this world. Of course, I do not remember anything about that or the following years. My earliest memory I can think of is being in the hospital when I was four or five years old getting a minor surgery. I am drawing a lot of blanks. Reflecting now, I don't remember too much.

What do I remember? Hockey. I grew up being all about hockey. My first true love. My passion. My desire. Every aspect of it. When I was 7 or 8 years old, I could tell you almost every player in the NHL and which hand they shot. I loved it. I would read hockey magazines. I loved everything about it. Playing it, the coaching, the management side of it. Everything. It started with my dad of course. Avid Toronto Maple Leafs fan and a fantastic hockey player himself. Not only was he usually one of the best on the ice in St. Anthony, Newfoundland on any given night, he was one of the most sportsmanlike players as well. He respected the game he loved. He was a good teammate. He loves the game. At the age of 59, he still plays in two leagues. One league has kids that are 16 years of age. And I don't know if he will ever stop playing. I don't know many more who love the game more than him. And for you that know him, you don't either.

I remember our kitchen table. I sat at one end, mom at the other. Dad to the right and my sister to the left. Behind my sister was Doug Gilmour and Wendall Clark. I kid you not. There were two big posters of them right next to our kitchen table. Two members of the Toronto Maple Leafs had supper with us every night.

I remember being a tool at supper. I don't remember being pleasant. That be the only meal we eat together. We were a busy family. 95% of my memories revolve around hockey. No kid loved it more than me. My dad loved it. He never forced it on me. It was natural affinity for me. I wasn't the greatest skater starting out. I used to go to power skating hockey schools. I hated it because there were usually very little time with pucks. It helped immensely. I would do two hockey schools per summer. Summer also consisted of road hockey. I played other sports. Hold my own in all of them.

The winter months. Couldn't wait. My favorite season. I lived in the rink. If I had to clock in there, I would have had more hours than the workers. Everything about it. The lights, sounds, and of course, the 'machine' or 'truck'. The zamboni. Loved it. I remember the guys who drove it. They treated me very well. I know every inch of the old St. Anthony Olympia. Every inch. My dad would take me. I would love being in the dressing room before games and after. Loved listening to these "heroes" talking and laughing and joking. They were "heroes" to me. I looked up to them. I wish I could go back in time to do it again.

When I started playing, I wasn't a standout. I just loved playing. But what did I love more? Being a goalie. I wanted to be a goalie. In Novice 2, I got to try it for half a season. My dad hated it. I still remember the pads and glove I would wear. If I had it my way, I would have been a goalie. No doubt in my mind. Playing road hockey, I would always volunteer to get in the cage first. Fascinated with the position. After my short stint in the crease, I got back to playing out. When I wasn't at the rink, I was lucky enough to have my own backyard rink. I lived on the ice. Those were the moments as a kid you wish never ended. I played hockey. I lived for it.

I often wonder, what would have happened if I didn't play? Not sure. Not a clue. I don't do winter vacations. Ever since I was three, every winter from September/October to March/April was spent on a team and in a rink. I don't know what else exists outside of that during those months. Also during those months, I did go to school. I was smart. Above average. Close to the top of my class each year. Math was easy. Everything was easy for me, except reading and writing. Not that it was hard for me, I hated it. School was easy for me. I am not being cocky, I am just stated the facts. And I loved it. My father was a high school math teacher. I am my father's son. My mother is a special woman to deal with us both. But it was being a kid that signs of something isn't quite right with me began. I remember once in grade 6 I "faked" sick for a whole week because I had two friends somewhat fighting. I felt I had to pick sides. I couldn't handle it. I remember my grandmother taking care of me for a week. I couldn't deal with seeing my friends fighting. Think for a second, how bad a grade 6 fight could be? It was nothing. I know that now. But I ran and hid from it. Guess what was that weekend? A hockey tournament. I took a full week off of school, but when Friday night came, the skates were on and I was flying.

Another memory of feelings was in grade 5. I can't recall the exact situation, but someone said something harmless to me. I remember vividly trying to fight the tears. I was in the old St. Anthony Elementary library. Grade 5 kids can be relentless. "TJ, are you crying?" My response, "No, I get sore eyes every Wednesday." Wow. Truth was I got sore eyes often. I had to make an excuse so I didn't look "soft". If things were bad at school with friends, I didn't want to go.

As I got older, I played more and more hockey. Myself and a few others separated ourselves from the pack when we hit Bantam. We played more than anyone. We didn't get into the girls or extra-curricular activities until we were about 16 or 17. When I was 16, from 4 pm to 11 pm on Monday's, I spent straight at the hockey rink. I lived a 1 minute drive from rink, a 5 minute walk, but I stayed there. I remember falling asleep in school one Tuesday morning.

Hockey kept me on a straight line. I will never think of, "what have I done for the game?". My life has been hockey. The game has done so much for me. The people I met. The relationships I have. Much like other Canadian kids. I am fortunate to be working with the sport I love. I can't imagine me doing anything else. I get to go to the rink every day. That's my corner office on the 20th floor.

After I was finished high school, I went to Truro, Nova Scotia to play Junior A hockey for the Truro Bearcats. Wasn't sure what to expect when I first arrived. Didn't know anyone. I would doubt myself. "Am I good enough to be here"? I had no confidence at first. Once I overcame that, I loved it there. I still get goosebumps going to Truro or even driving by. I have created a lot of life-long friendships there. It is my unofficial hometown in Nova Scotia. We done well as a team there. We won two league championships in three years. Personally, I done well. I set four scoring records during my three years. I still hold two. I am very proud of that. I received a NCAA Division 1 scholarship to play hockey from my time there.

I am starting to learn my life will be impacted by the people I meet. The people that influence my life. During my time in Truro, there were some amazing relationships made. I met my best friend in the world. You know the guy. If I was in a ditch off the highway in Cape Breton, he would leave his home in East Hants and come get me. Or the guy that would stand up for you regardless of the situation. I have so much admiration for this person. Even though he is shorter than me, I look up to him. He is truly my best friend. We will be friends until my last breath. He has done so much for me when I was in some bad spots. That's the type of man he is. I love him and owe him so much. Another guy I met in Truro was and is a major influence in my life, especially when it comes to hockey. I won't lie. I didn't know too much about playing "hard" or "tough" or defensively when I came to Truro. I could score. That was easy for me. Never hard. But what I realized is, in order to win, you need to compete and play hard in every area of the rink. He taught me that. But he really made a difference in my life after I was done playing. After I left NCAA, he asked me to coach with him as an Assistant. I was speechless. I never learned so much before in my life in one year. He and the other coach taught me so much. I learned so much. That may have been the year I first realize there was something "wrong" with me. Those gentlemen, along with their families helped. You know you are lonely when you spend Christmas by yourself with a fire going, drinking red wine, and listening to sad love songs at 2 a.m.. They helped me through my first official "dark" time. Thank you.

After that year, I decided to attend school. I moved to Halifax. Life speeds up now. The 'city'. At the age of 22, I was living in Halifax from Monday to Friday going to school. On weekends, I would fly to Newfoundland to play Senior Hockey. Senior hockey was fun. I abused the lifestyle, though. After games, I would drink heavily. It was my way to cope and not deal with my demons. I played so many games hungover on Sunday's. Guess what they were paying me to play? I won't say, but for a 22 year old, it was a lot. I drank and gambled a lot of it away. It was so bad sometimes, I would be in Newfoundland on Sunday, play a game of hockey, after the game I would get intoxicated to the point where I would wake up in my bed in Halifax on Monday morning. That's messed up. I would have no idea what would happen from Sunday 6 pm to Monday noon. What a mess.

I only done that for a year or two. Then I turn my attention to coaching. I started out doing Junior B for two seasons. Then I moved on to Junior A as an Assistant Coach. Done that for year and half, along with half of year of Major Bantam and Major Midget. I am currently in my second year as Head Coach and General Manager of the Yarmouth Jr. A Mariners. It is my dream job. I love Yarmouth. I love the passion they have for hockey. We share that. I love the people. It is home. And since I have become public with my illness, the support I have got has been unreal. From friends to people I have never met before. It has been awesome. I thank you.

What's the point of my story? Hockey is the point. It is my life. It saved me. I love it. I really do. Everything I do is related to it. If I haven't been involved with hockey, I would have found a way to kill myself. What else would I have to think about? I don't know much else. It is my passion. And I haven't felt it ever disappear. Except when I was twisted with my demons.

The good memories I have. The good people in my life. The experiences. Everything comes from hockey. Everything stems from hockey. I would not have met the people I have if it wasn't for me coming to Nova Scotia to play hockey. My son would not be born. The people I have met. None of it would have existed in my life without hockey. I consider myself a "Bluenoser" now. I absolutely love Nova Scotia. I am a Newfie. But Nova Scotia is my home. I have met so many amazing people here. My son is a Nova Scotian. I guess I have dual citizenship.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

My First Challenge Alone- Wednesday, February 17th, 2016

Am I going to kill myself tonight? No. I am not giving up. But I don't feel the greatest. I had a good day. Met with a psychiatrist. Went to work. Went on the radio to speak of my illness. Went to a team function. That's when I felt it coming on. This is new territory for me tonight. I was fine all day. I was good. Smiling and had a good day.

I don't feel like working out tonight. I didn't feel it all day. I had a feeling of anxiety early. I stepped outside and had a breath of fresh air. All I want to do is listen to music and write. I feel so alone. First time in a long time. Not sure what to make of it. I have been testing the waters, so to speak. I have been out in the public and in social settings. I was fine. No problems. No bad thoughts. No terrible feelings. Why tonight? This is weird. I know a lot of people said they are there for me. I get that. But I need to face this challenge alone. Don't I? I mean, I can't go through life relying on people, can I? Every time I feel down, I can't rely on someone. I need to fight this myself. I can't describe this feeling. It's empty. All I hear are my thoughts and feelings. Completely oblivious to the surrounding environment. I am puzzled.

I guess this is part of the Depression. Showing its ugly face again. An encore performance. I don't feel like I want to harm myself, but I feel worthless and useless. Pure self-depreciation. I was doing so good though. Doctors and nurses said these nights may arise. They got that right. Maybe I was lying to everyone today when they asked how I was? I don't know. I felt good earlier. This sucks. I don't know if anything can make me feel better. My thoughts are with me regardless. I am not going to gamble. I am not taking steps backwards. This is an obstacle. A hurdle. I can cry. I can take my meds and knock myself out. That's an option. Yeah, I can feel it tonight.

Maybe this is what is difficult to understand about Depression. Today, I felt great. Now, tonight, I feel awful. No words can explain it. Empty, maybe? I don't know. Like something is eating away at me. Inside of me. Thoughts and feelings bouncing off my bones. Nowhere to go. Just staying inside. Deep breaths.

Indeed, deep breaths T.J.. One after another. One second at a time. You can get through this. It's almost 9:00 pm. Day is almost over."No it's not T.J.". "How do you figure?" "Quiet down, please?" Great. There's a conversation going on and I can't silence it. Powerless. Simply powerless.

I spoke with someone today. We are somewhat 'pen pals'. We share our journal entries with each other. That person sent me one entry last night. I asked the question today; "Do you think it is better to have loved and loss than to ever loved at all?" That person said the latter. I am not sure where I stand. How can I if I never 'really' loved someone before? It's a loaded question. A very loaded question. Where do I stand? Not too sure. On one hand, have I ever felt love? I have recently. But it's too late for that. On the other hand, the pain and hurt from someone leaving. Is it too much to bear? But I can handle the pain. So, did I answer my own question? I am not sure. It's like coaching hockey. I hate to lose more than I love to win. How much pain can I take of someone leaving me? Or is the feeling of love for someone worth the pain? Everyone is different. But if you love someone and they love you, chances are you will stay together, hence no pain. So the question is unanswerable unless you have experienced it. If I polled 100 people, I have no idea what the results would be like. It is something that needs to be experienced. It has to be a feeling. Not a thought. Thoughts can hurt you. Feelings do hurt you. That's the difference between the two. We often interchange the words. I "think" versus I "feel". There is a difference. Too me, anyways. I catch myself slowing down myself to properly use those words. I can 'think' of lies. You can't lie to feelings. As much as people try, you can't. That's when things get clouded and you keep things in. Keeping feelings in almost cost me my life. Thoughts of suicide almost cost me my life. Tough topic. Still trying to distinguish them.

Fear? Yeah. My thoughts are scary. And painful. Pain that can't be translated into words. Self-induced? No. I didn't ask for this. Helpless. I feel vulnerable. It is not a sign of weakness. It's a sickness. I can endure this pain. These thoughts, I can endure. The Devil has set up shop in my head tonight and demons are poking at my heart. This isn't fun. The writing helps. I need to develop a method to quiet the thoughts. This is how messed up Depression is. I am having a bad night. But I don't want anyone to worry or help. Why? I don't know. I cannot answer that. Questions are not hard to ask. Giving the answers are. Finding the answers. It's only on Jeopardy that the answers come before the questions. I can't even crack a smile. I am hoping by the time I am done typing my thoughts and feelings subside. The music helps.

I guess a month ago I was still in the hospital. But everything was going good. I guess my thoughts don't care about that. I guess Depression don't care about that. No matter how well I feel one moment, Depression can enter the next. Well, writing is part of my coping. This helped. But I am holding on tight tonight. I never liked rollercoaster's. I am on one tonight. There are screams and yelling, but silently and within in my head. Off the dome of my skull. They can't get out. Not yet. Maybe they will exit through these words or the tears I will cry. Here we go. "Goodnight demons". "Not yet."

You may play inside of me tonight. But you won't win. You won't get me.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Not Giving In and the Devil

"Temptation is the devil looking through the keyhole. Yielding is opening the door and inviting him in."

                                    - Billy Sunday

I don't have a hidden agenda. There are no motives to my writing. I don't plan my writing. When incredible feelings or thoughts come about, I write. Writing is like talking to someone, but there is no judgement. Just a listening ear. The blank pages hear me. They feel me. They understand me. There is no feedback. Just understanding. I am not looking for answers to my questions. My questions are tough. Difficult to answer. I just like asking them. I can ask anything. The hardest questions. There are no real answers. But I am learning more about myself. A lot of people praise me on my writing. My reply is always the same; I let my feelings do the writing now. Before I would 'think' about what to write so it would be what people want to hear. Now, I am opened to express my feelings. It feels great to be honest and real. It feels great to feel. People may not like my honesty, but I do.

Everyone has seen cartoons where a character has a devil and an angel appear on their shoulder. The angel usually advising to do the good thing. The devil telling the character to act upon the bad. Well, Depression is sort of like that, but instead of the angel, there are two devils. No angels. The only angels I can think of are the ones from heaven. Don't think there is a place for me there. Those devils on my shoulders keep whispering to me. "Hey T.J., you're worthless. Go kill yourself." I turn to my left shoulder. "He's right you know. You are not needed in this life." That's just the beginning. That sad thing is; that's not the worst. How much darker were they? Dark. No light. No sound. Nothing. Depression is the loneliest feeling in the world and guess what? I can't feel it. I can only think about it. The thoughts tell me I am lonely. It's like a party in my head. Only guest are monsters, demons, and devils. No light. Voices. Plural. I hear more than one voice. It's my own. Different tones. I actually catch myself sometimes saying aloud some of the thoughts. I write the others. Some thoughts I cannot even begin to process. If I was able to take you there through my words, I wouldn't. You wouldn't be able to handle it. I am not sure if there is a devil in the biblical sense. But there is most definitely a devil in my head. He has no form, but a voice. I am scared of that voice. He tempts me. He controls me. Like a puppeteer. That devil has the strings to my life. He is trying to put on a show where there is only a final act. The end.

I used to think I couldn't tell people that. Would appear I am crazy. Depression is scary. The ideas and thoughts that come are insidious. My feelings weren't there until I spoke about my illness. There were no feelings. Nothing. Numbness to my bones. Head to toe. Death looked to be the best option. What's the difference right? I am already numb to life. Being dead would kill the devil in my head. One can only hope. Would the voices stop? One can only hope. What if the voices don't? That would be a new level of hell. I mean, it can't get worst, can it? One can only hope not. The only hope a person suffering from Depression is the hope death silences the voices. Is death the devil's kryptonite? One can only hope. That's Depression.

When you look at death, you do not see a face. He doesn't have any facial attributes. I know he isn't pretty. I don't see an ugly image. I see it for what death is- lifeless. People are scared of what they do not understand. That's why a lot of us fear death. What happens when we die? There are opinions out there of what happens when we die. Heaven, if you believe in that.  A reincarnation, if that's your faith. No one is wrong or right, in my opinion, and that is a respect I have for people's faiths. One thing that, regardless of faith, it is certain, death will find us all. They say it is a part of 'life'. I believe that is incorrect. Life is beautiful and amazing and exciting and so much fun. Death, is lifeless. Life is worth fighting for.

So what's our purpose in life? Too make money and get rich? To have material things? Status in society? I have often wonder, what is this all about? Is it an means to an end? I have yet to have a conversation with someone in the afterlife. You know what is fucked up? I would love the opportunity to sit down with a ghost and have a conversation. I am not scared of ghost. They can't tie a noose. I can. You may be thinking this, "You're crazy T.J.!" Be careful with the selection of your words. I am not crazy. I just have some very dark thoughts. I am not afraid to share them. So I am going to stick with what I know.

This is what I know. As dark as my thoughts can be. As loud as the voices can speak. As dangerous and twisted my mind can be. I am not going to commit suicide. That's the easy way out. The true character of a man is shown during times of adversity. My adversity? My illness. My strength? Hope. Love. Family. Friends. Strangers. As lonesome my thoughts can make me, I feel the support of many people. Giving in to this illness is not an option. It was before. Not anymore.

I have learned to live in the now. Not worry about what happened. Can't change it. Only learn from it. And not to fret about the future. Focusing on the right now moment. Many people have told me the last few days and weeks I have inspired them or their child or their family member or a friend. The amount of messages is amazing. The support is incredible. Telling me to keep fighting and I give them strength. Well, friends, family, and strangers, I must express my gratitude. Your words have kept me going strong. This is our fight. It's an ongoing war, with many battles.

I got a message from one person. Told me I inspired his 13 year old. Imagine, a 13 year old, going through maybe their toughest years of their life. So much life to live. Just becoming a teenager. That person and his or hers family will remain nameless, but I feel I must tell you, publicly, you young person, have given me a purpose and you are my hero. You truly are. You give me so much strength. When I am having a bad day, I think of you and your strength and courage. I have yet to meet you, but you are the strongest young person I know. You are an inspiration to me, and because of you, I decided I am not letting this disease defeat me. We, together, are going to defeat it. Together we are strong. I am here for you. And you for I.

Another young person has began to share their feelings with me through writing. Again, a young person with so much life to live. The strength you have is amazing. You are an inspiration. A breath of fresh air. You know who you are. We will continue to share our feelings. It really helps expressing your thoughts and feelings.

Am I cured? No. Not sure what cured will feel like. I have never felt normal. What is normal? I am unique. Not normal. I use a scale from 1-10 to rate how I feel each day. Michael Landsberg calls it the Sickter Scale. The best I have reached was a 6. The lowest a 2. Most days I feel like a 4 or 5. Is '6' the best I will feel? I Don't know. Are they 'bearable'? Yeah, but I don't want to have to 'bear' life, do I? Tolerate life? No. I can't do that. I got to live life. Find the joy. Find the happiness. Will happiness find me? There is only one way to find out. Go find it myself!

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

Learning to Accept

"Our uniqueness, our individuality, and our life experience molds us into fascinating beings. I hope we can embrace that. I pray we may all challenge ourselves to delve into the deepest resources of our hearts to cultivate an atmosphere of understanding, acceptance, tolerance, and compassion. We are all in this life together" 

                                                                                                                              - Linda Thompson

I have indicated that my confidence has been coming back lately. Anyone that knows me or has known me, know I can be very confident. Some would even say cocky. I am not cocky. I may have come across that way before. I try to be humble. But I am not with regards to some things. Well, what am I confident about? I know. Playing hockey. I am quite confident about that. I play recreational now. But I know every time I step out there, I will be fine. I can play. I have played in five different leagues in Nova Scotia over the last eight years. I have been in the finals of those leagues every time. I know how to win. Somewhere over the last few years, I lost that confidence. I began accepting losing. Never again will I make that mistake.

Why am I starting with that paragraph about confidence? Well people, have opinions. That's OK. We had a quote on a team I played hockey for. "Excuses are like assholes. Everyone has one." Well, that same is true for opinions. Everyone has them. People who suffer from any sort of Mental Illness may feel that is important. It's not. I used to think that way. "I need to impress this guy or that girl in order to be accepted." Accepted to what? Really, what I am being accepted to? For example, I have come into contact with people from all walks of life. From millionaires to people that are just getting by. I would feel different or 'act' a certain way, depending who I was around. That's wrong. That is not being true to the most important person, myself.

Why would I act a certain way around rich people? No idea. Had to appear I was on their level. Their level of what? Status in society? Or 'act' like I have money like them? It was weird. I wanted to feel I was their equal. Their peer. But what makes me rich? I know. My charm and sense of humour. When I was around people less fortunate than me, I would stereotype in my head and 'act' how they would want me to feel accepted. Two observations. One. The word 'act' means to perform. How many of us put on an 'act' to please the people we are around? This is life. This is not a movie. We need to stop the 'acting'. Don't worry about what people think. I am a loud eater. Guess what? I don't know how to be a quiet eater. I am not changing that. If someone don't want to be around me because of that, I don't care. The people that mean the most in the world are the people that accept you for everything you are. I know I have charm and a sense of humour. Guess what I do with that? I can make millionaires smile. I can make poor people smile. Charm and my humour is what makes me rich. It's my truest form. It's no act. I am learning to treat everyone the same. The best CEO's in the world treat the janitors with the same amount of respect as the Vice-President.

A lot of us get caught up trying to be 'seen' with certain people or not be 'seen' around others. That's sad. Pathetic. What are we teaching our youth? Our kids? Do I teach Nash to treat people differently because they are rich or poor? No. Money does not determine who you are as a person. So what some people have advantages over others financially? Who cares? They probably worked hard for their money. We need to stop judging people without knowing people. Get to know people before you make a generalization or say something.

Where are you going with this TJ? Well, I know a lot of people reading this still don't know how to talk to people with Mental Illness? Well, here is my answer. How do you talk to someone with diabetes? Or cancer? Or asthma? Is there guidelines? No, there isn't. Just because someone is suffering from a Mental Illness, do not approach them differently or 'act' a certain way. We will see through it. Don't be fake. And you don't need to avoid people with Mental Illness because you don't want to say something bad to me. Listen, I had a voice in my head that told me to pull my car into the garage, hook up a hose, and fire up the engine. I highly doubt anything you say to me is going to offend me or hurt me or 'set' me off. Set you off TJ?

Yes, set me off. Again, uneducated people of Mental Illness think if you say something wrong to me, you may 'set me off'. Set me off to do what? I am not crazy. I am not insane. I am not a nut-job. I have an illness. Remember that. I am person. Two legs. Two arms. Bones and blood. Heart, lungs, and kidneys. You know, all the same as you. So something in my head makes me have uncontrollable thoughts. I have medication for that. So, what are you setting me off about? Nothing. There is nothing to worry about. Some people don't understand Mental Illness. That's why you're scared. Don't be scare. Learn about it. I had a young lady message me. Told me that no one around her understands or are scared to talk about it. That's too bad. All that young lady wants is some support and someone to talk to. She is a strong young lady. A beautiful person. She's my inspiration.

Unless you have suffered from a Mental Illness, you have no idea how it feels. What does that mean TJ? Simple. Have you cried yourself to sleep before over something you can't remember? Have you been so sad before that you feel the pain through your body, but there is nothing to be sad about? Have you put on a fake smile so people think you're OK? Have you quickly turn the shopping cart the other way at the grocery store so you avoid people? Have you wondered why you didn't turn into the 18-wheeler transport truck that was coming towards you? Have you wondered what a bullet tastes like? Have you ever felt like wandering in the forest to see how long you can survive and eventually die? Have you ever wonder how much blood you can lose from your wrist before you die? Have you ever written a suicide note then throw it away? Yeah, you don't understand. You can't unless you been there. Those are dark questions. Do I enjoy them? No. They are the monsters and demons within. Scary stuff. My dad told me to stop thinking about that and start having positive thoughts. I raised my voice, "DAD, I can't control them, yet. Don't you think I tried that already?" He was trying to be supportive and he is. He is also learning a lot about this illness. He is becoming educated. He doesn't quite understand why I have those thoughts. It's hard to bring someone to the depths of the shadows in my head. But he is educating himself and taking the time to understand me as well.

Depression affects everyone around the person. It's fact. The people that unconditionally care about you will stand by you. Will fight with you. Will support you. Will go to war with you. They will be with you through the bad and worst. Those are the people you want in your life. They accept you for you. The people that 'bail' show their true colours and allegiance. You do not need them in your life. They want the easy way out and believe the grass is greener on the other side. That's fine. Their life, their choice. Don't hold grudges. Do not hate. Respect their decision. Someday, they will apologize.

Why do some people pull the 'proverbial chute'? Fear and belief that they can't take on 'your problems' too. They fear what they can't understand. My three year old understands better than some adults. Why? He listened. This is the conversation. "Nash, daddy is sick. He needs to take medication." "OK daddy, you take your medications to make you better." "Thank you buddy." Simple. And with regards to taking on the 'problems'? That is not what I am interested in. They are mine. I just want someone to listen. That's why I journal. I write. The pages don't run from me. They are there for me. A listening ear.

We need to start talking more about Mental Illness. Plain and simple. How else can we learn? Do not be afraid of the word 'suicide'. Point blankly, I looked my dad and mom straight in their tearful eyes and said, "I thought about hanging myself." Not what they wanted to hear. But they helped me get the proper help. I haven't had a negative thought like that in awhile. And, oh yeah, I am not crazy because I had that thought. Suicide is scary because why? We fear the unknown. Don't be afraid to cry. Feelings need to be expressed.

My Mental Health nurse mentioned Peer-Support to me. I am 100% for it. You know what though? There aren't many Peer-Support groups out there for it. I am changing that. My future goals? I want to go to High Schools and Junior Highs and sports teams and tell my story. Real and raw. The truth. Nothing less. I want to educate people. Young and old. I have nothing to hide. I am straight. I am honest. I don't mine crying in public, showing I care. I can do that. I need to help people. The people I want to educate the most are the people that are surrounded by people suffering from Mental Illness. Why? Well, they are the first people we turn to. Mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, brothers, sisters, boyfriends and girlfriends, husbands and wives. They are the support surrounding you. They need to know. They may never understand, but they need to know how they can help.

I was all over the map with this entry. The main point I was trying to make is this; be true to yourself and accept yourself first and foremost. Accept your illness. Make it yours. Once you accept that and understand it. Then others will accept it and try to understand. Acceptance is the first step. Once I accepted that I have Depression, it became real, but more importantly, I could let my feelings out. Don't put on an 'act' for anyone. Don't be fake. Then you will have to live up to that. No need. Screw that. Be yourself. If people don't love you for that, let them go. You don't need them. Love yourself. There is nothing wrong with that. You're not a bad person. There is nothing wrong with you. You're not crazy, insane, or nuts. You have an illness. The only reason it seems to be taboo, is because people fear it. Know thy enemy. Understand thy enemy. Defeat thy enemy.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

The Women

I love women. The curves. The smell. The looks. The hair. All of it. I love it. Women, you're beautiful. Am I am 'womanizer'? Urban Dictionary says it is 'a guy who makes zillions of women think he is in love with them and that he is the best guy in the world.' I don't consider myself a womanizer.  No one is in love with me. But, I would look for one night stands when I was single. 

Looking to 'pick up'. Always drunk. Never sober. No confidence to speak to anyone sober. I met my previous girlfriends when....when I was drunk? I don't even remember. Shameful. My memory is cloudy. What a disgrace.

So this is what a typical night out would be. Some of you will hate me for this. Consider me disgusting. Think lowly of me. That's fair. But now it makes sense to me. I did a lot of things I am not proud of. I was usually drunk. Not making an excuse. And I am not using Depression as an excuse. I was tormented inside that I would try to do anything that hid the pain. Women would help.

So a typical night. I would get together with friends I was comfortable drinking around. We play drinking games, usually. It may be Thursday or Friday. We didn't drink normal. We would be blitzed before we got to the bar. I didn't like parties. For one, too many people I may know and see me for what I am. Two, I was a rude prick at times, and these were people I would have to face again. Three, well, who am I going to sleep with here if they already know me? No one. Sad thought? I know. But if I am being honest, that was my thought process. My plan.

After the party, we would head out to the bar. I am gassed usually. I can keep it together to get into the bar. I wasn't rich, so I was on a budget. I couldn't buy drinks for girls. Sometimes I did. I never got that concept, though. Why buy them a drink? Just as well to say, "I want to have sex with you." Is one more drink going to make this girl want to have me? I was selfish so I would be thinking, screw her, she ain't getting no drink from me. As soon as I walked into the bar, one of three things came across my mind; 1. I need to pee. 2. I need a drink. or 3. Scanning the bar to look for a potential girl to go home with. Yes, as sad as that is, I did it. Other guys did it or do it. But this is my story. My life. This is me coming to terms with the ugly side of me years ago. Me owning up.

I always said, "I can't talk to girls sober." That's why the bar was the perfect setting. If she thinks I am a jerk, I am drunk, who cares? Secondly, if she has no interest in me, I would move on to someone else to try my luck. They are mostly strangers. People I may never see again. I hated being even half sober at the bar. I didn't have the "liquid courage" to chat up a girl. I never went after the "best looking" or "hottest", so to speak. Too big of a challenge. I was looking for something to happen that night. And quick. Plus, I had no confidence talking to the "hottest" girl. When I was single, I hated it. I would drink more. Looking for some companionship. I was lonely. I was drunk. And I didn't care.

I didn't care about hurting their feelings. I had none. I was numb. Cold. Heartless. Selfish. All that was on my mind, is "Can I get someone to go home with me"? Pick up lines? Yeah, right. I would tell them what they wanted to hear. Disgusting tactic, but it worked sometimes. I would look for someone as lonely as I was. There were no feelings. No connection. Even if I got a phone number, I would never call or text. I didn't have charm. Charm has to be natural. It has to be real. I didn't want to be real because I didn't want a relationship or anything like that. I just wanted to have sex that night.

It was a way to cope. I know how I treated women was wrong. It was. I apologize. I am very sorry. Not a regret, but a learning experience. It was my coping. Someone to be with so I wasn't alone. 

Complete strangers. Leave me that night or in the morning, and the next night I would do it all over again. Weekends were a blur.

I was disgusting. Despicable. I know. Can't go back in time to change that. So, did I learn from it? Yes. Did I ever. I find it hard to talk to girls now. I am nervous. Fearful, even, I may say something wrong. I try not to be drunk when talking to them, as well. I don't pretend I am a good looking guy. I am not. I don't know what I have to offer someone. Depression has kept that inside of me.

So what do I have to offer? I am different than I was. I really am. I feel it all the way to my bones. My mind, heart, body. Everything is better. I am craving to work out and exercise. Turning my body into something I am proud of. I am getting stronger. I feel good about it. The Depression held me down for so many years. I am starting to create a new identity. A new person.

Someone recently asked me if I was a 'sweet-talker'. This next section is for both sexes, male and female. Men, if you are a 'sweet-talker', be aware. When that person asked me, I replied honestly. "Before, I would have said whatever to get whatever I wanted. I would lie. But now, I don't know if I am a sweet-talker. I am me. I say what I feel and think. I don't have predetermined answers or myths in my head. If I say something and you don't like it, I am OK with that. I respect your decision." So men, if you are just looking for 'a piece', lying from the word 'Go' is not smart. Deceiving them or manipulating your words to get what you want is wrong and gutless. You need to be real with women. Express your feelings. Your thoughts. If they can't handle it, or don't want to see you because of it, guess what? You shouldn't have to change your true self to make someone like you. You need to be true to yourself first. Understand you first. Once you do that, you can be truthful and sincere to the opposite sex. Stop with the bullshit. It doesn't work. It turns you into something you're not.  Women, I have no idea what you ladies think. Far from it. But if a guy opens up to you, do not judge him on it. Be aware of the lies and manipulation. Be certain. Don't lead him on for nothing. Be upfront with him. And if he doesn't like the answer, guess what? You don't need to change yourself either. The hell with them. They need to love you for you. Everything you are. Be true to yourself as well. Let it flow naturally. If something feels wrong, identify with those feelings. What you're thinking and feeling. I sense too many people 'tolerate' their partner or 'put up' with them. Just getting by in life. Unhappy. Don't be unhappy. Don't be with someone who makes you feel that way. Don't be with someone you have to put on an act for. You got to be true to yourself. First and foremost. 

"TJ, what gives you the right to say that?" Someone may say that to me. That's my opinion. It is based on how bad of a guy I was to women and what I learned. How Depression made me act or behave around women. I am not a love expert. I am searching for my true self. I have areas of strengths and weaknesses. I am accepting myself for what I am. This is what I have discovered so far; I like exercising now and makes me feel good and confident about my body. I am more in-touch with my feelings. I express them more. I perceive life differently now. I am charming as I am. I don't need to be fake with that. I do have a sense of humour and I am intelligent. I like sipping on a glass of wine while next to a fire or in a bath. I am starting to try new things. I like to listen to music more now. I hear the words. The lyrics. I love sports and being active. I love going to the movies. I love eating. I have beautiful eyes and big lips. I am probably 5 pounds heavier than I want to be, but I am OK with it. I am a better listener in conversations. I respect people more. I am emotional. I am truthful. I am not the richest man or the best dress. I am not a big fan of rap music. I do love to travel and see new places. I do not care what people think of me anymore. I am getting my confidence back. I do not live in fear as much. That's what makes me special. That's my TJ-ness.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith