My Eulogy- July 4, 2016

I am there but I am not. Will I be able to see and hear? Why am I even having this thought? Oh, that’s right- the Depression. It can make you have the darkest of dark imagery.

My mother is in the front row. She cannot hide the tears, nor should she have too. My father holds her and condoles her. It doesn’t matter at this point. The pain is unbearable. My sister is there. She is in disbelief. My son, he is present, but confused to as why he can never see his daddy again. He will grow up fatherless. Someday he will know that an illness got the better of him, but will never understand why. My close friends are there. This image is blurred because I do not know who will show. Someone will show, I assume.

“Troy, better known as T.J. to us all, was a troubled young man that lost a fight with demons and monsters”, someone will read as the opening line. What a great way to start my Eulogy. A speech about the deceased starts with the very thing that killed him. My legacy will be the disease that conquered me. I would be known for a disease rather than a person, a human being.

“T.J. was a great athlete and good son”, continues whoever is trying to honour me. “He was also a wonderful father to his son.” Three lines can really sum up the positive things in my life. Shortest eulogy in history. What a piece of shit that lived a poor life. A dreadful life.

My Depression makes me believe there is nothing good in my life. Nothing worth living for. Nothing worth fighting for. I am an anchor dragging my parent’s to the bottom of the ocean. A disappointment as a son. An useless brother to a great sister. A dad to the greatest treasure in ones’ life. Altogether, I am a failure. The equation sums it up quite easily and nasty. There is no positive product here.

My Depression takes away my confidence, if I had any at all. I have zero confidence to speak to the opposite sex. Alcohol gave me liquid courage to speak to women. I look in the mirror and ask a simple question with a complex response; “Who can ever love this?” My Depression tells me I am not good enough. And if I was, no one could love me because my life is a disaster and I am a Mental Patient. “You will be lonely for life T.J.,” it whispers to me. “I still have you”, I reply.

My Depression makes me doubt life. I don’t have my own place. I don’t have my own car. I don’t have a job. I don’t have a credit card. I don’t have any money. I have a son. How can I provide for that young man? Depression tells me I am a huge letdown as a father. Depression reminds me every second of everyday.

My Depression tells me no one likes me. Go figure. How can anyone like someone that has an illness and needs to be spoken to like a baby to prevent him from ‘tripping’ out? And making new friends? Good luck. “Hi, I am T.J. and I have Major Depression. Want to be friends?” Depression tells me no one wants to be my friend because they don’t want to deal with me or my problems. Fair enough. I don’t want to inconvenient someone else.

My Depression tells me to kill myself. “No one will miss you.” “Not like you were contributing to society in a constructive manner.” “One last financial burden to your family.” “Your son will be fine without you.”

My Depression also suggests ways how to end my life. There are ways that may do it. There are ways that will definitely do it. Hell, my Depression even gets creative to the point where the topic of discussion is, “What is the most creative way to kill us that no one has ever tried?” Yeah, we are trailblazers. Setting the bar at new heights.

If I am willing to guess, someone reading this that know or don’t know that they have Depression, have similar thoughts. It’s an internal conversation. It’s a back and forth of ideas, with one side of the coin more persuasive than the other.

I used to have these thoughts daily and nightly. It was like having a checklist of speaking points with the devil within. A recap of the day.

“Did we touch on how you would kill yourself today?”

“Yeah, we did”, I reply.

“Ok, good. Just making sure you think about that again today. Let’s move on to how shitty of a father you are.”

“Ok.”

That’s the mystery of Depression that people that do not have, can never really understand. These are the daily thoughts that we choose not to have, but instead, have to suffer. It’s not easy hearing those same philosophies being brought to the forefront of your attention every day. How the hell is someone supposed to complete a task at work when they have an ‘internal boss’ suggesting new ways to kill themselves? Or how can a partner express love to someone else when they cannot feel anything other than sadness? Why would someone leave the perceived safety of their bed to have a meeting with their blood-thirsty demons?

It’s not easy to explain that to someone else. It’s very hard to talk about. Some of you are reading this, and nodding your head. “Yup. That’s me.” You’re not alone. For those of you that do not suffer from Depression or other Mental Illnesses, you are doing your best to understand, but still unsure how the fuck to understand any of this. If you think it is messed up, you’re right, but try living with it.  

But remember this; it’s not the person having those thoughts. It’s the illness creating those thoughts. Someone suffering from Depression is not crazy. They are ill.

But my glass is half full. and it is half full with hope...

For all of those thoughts and feelings Depression has put on me or made me think, I have endured them. I won’t say I ‘defeated’ Depression. The game is not over, but I am ensuring it is far from over. Giving up is not an option. Quit is not a word in my vocabulary. 

My hope tells me I am worthy of living. There are things in this world that I should be hopeful about. Each breath I take. Every conversation with someone. Meeting someone new. Teaching my son how to shoot a hockey puck or to swing a baseball bat. I am hopeful and optimistic about life. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I do not fear it anymore and I live with happiness instead of anguish and misery.

My hope gives me confidence. I am a good father. I am becoming a better brother. I am not a complete useless son. I am helping others. I can still play sports at a high level. I am getting stronger physically by going to the gym. I am getting tougher mentally through reading, writing, mindfulness, and meditation. I know what I am capable of and my potential is boundless and inspirational. I still lack some confidence talking to the ladies, but I got to find courage to come out of my shell.

My hope leaves no doubt. I may not be able to provide my son with materialistic items and spoil him with toys or money, but I can teach him about love, respect, being humble, kindness, hard work, laughter, and manners. I can teach him things money cannot buy. I can and will be there for him when he encounters struggles. I can guide him through the hard-hitting setbacks in life. I will support him in every way I can. I will not live his life, or live mine through him, rather, live it together, as father and son.

My hope tells me people do like me and they like me for me. They sure as hell don’t like me because I am rich or live in a mansion. They like me because they are my friends and they decided to stand by me when the going has gotten tough for me. Those are the people I want to surround myself with in my life. They make me happy and in turn, I hope I can do what they have done for me.

My hope encourages me not to commit suicide. That’s the easy way out. Hope has told me I am stronger than ever and I have a purpose. I purpose is to be a mentor, leader, and role model for others to help overcome their Mental Illness. My purpose is to be a great father, like mine was to me. My purpose is to inspire and create hope in others. My purpose is to live my life.

In closing, Depression is a life-sucking bitch. But it is an enemy we can fight. I say ‘we’ instead of ‘I’, because 'we' are in this together. Without help, ‘I’ would be dead and someone would have read my Eulogy already. ‘We’ are battling this illness together and 'we' are doing great. How do I know? I just took another breath. Hence, I am alive. I understand how terrible Depression can be. I was at the very bottom of the lifeless pit for 10+ years. I know others were and are there, I just can’t see who you are because you are still wearing a mask. I know how hard life is behind that mask. I also know how much better life is when you remove the mask and accept that you are not an illness and you are a person. I am here for anyone that needs guidance. I am here to listen. I am here to cry with you. I am here to smile with you. I am here to hold your hand. I am here to walk through the dark with you. I am here to help save your life. 

We are in this together and I will never give up. 

Neither will you.

“It’s easier to go down a hill than up it but the view is much better at the top”

                                                                                    - Henry Ward Beecher

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith