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