'Tis the Season when I Struggle the Most- December 24, 2017

I read a blog recently, and the lady describe my Christmas exactly how hers was going; long nights watching same old movies I have seen 100 times before, scrolling through social media seeing other people smiling, and wondering why my life is so terrible at times. I don’t envy other people’s happiness or joy, nor am I jealous. On the contrary, it gives me some joy and emotion seeing my friends and family happy. It gives me hope that maybe some Christmas soon, I will get to create and share my own moments of happiness. For the time being, it’s just not in the cards for me.

I could pretend that everything is alright, and I am happy, and Christmas is the best time of the year. I can’t do that. I am not faking anymore. Christmas is truly the most difficult for me because it was this time two years ago I had my serious mental breakdown, and almost took my own life. I have a bad memory, but that is something you don’t really forget.

Along with the traumatic events of two years ago, it is also the time when I feel the loneliest and most vulnerable for a relapse. (A relapse for me would be to attempt suicide or to find my way back into the darkness). I can talk more openly and freely about this now because of my psychotherapy and work I have done to handle these disturbing thoughts.

Last year, I think these thoughts would have more weight and influence over me. But due to my work with ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy), I have learned the skills necessary to handle and deal with these troubling thoughts.

I need to make one thing clear; I may generate these thoughts of darkness, but I don’t want to. I also can’t stop them. And to a certain degree, I cannot control them. That being said, I can understand them and defuse them.  

Here’s a recent thought I had at 2:10 am on December 23^rd, 2017; (This may be difficult for some to read because it is very difficult for me to write. I wrote it in my journal).

“I can kind of get pass the suicide thoughts. Though, my thoughts take me to, instead of killing yourself, T.J., why don’t you just disappear.”

This can be a very challenging thought if I did not know how to handle it. The thought that followed was also disturbing.

“How could I fake my suicide and move away from everything?”

Again, tough thought. My reasoning is I want to get away from my life. You know, the ‘life’ that consists of no money, no work, not seeing my son much, living with my sister, and uncertainty of my future. Maybe I can start a new life?

But in reality, that will not be a solution to my illness or situation.

Thoughts are not real. They are just what they are, thoughts. A bunch of neurons firing in the brain creating all kinds of shit in your mind. If you follow through on those thoughts, that’s how they become reality. I am at the point where I can distinguish thoughts from actions.

A metaphor for thoughts I read makes perfect sense to me. Imagine that I am the sky. And what happens in the sky? Weather.

Weather changes daily and comes in all magnitudes and sizes. Our thoughts are no different than the weather. I, the sky, is the constant. Never changing. It’s the weather that changes. There are big storms and small storms. There are tornadoes and hurricanes. There is rain and ice. All negative weather patterns.

But there is also sunshine and rainbows. Just like my thoughts. 

Scary and dangerous. Beautiful and happy.

And just like the weather, our thoughts pass.

What comes after a storm? Usually nice, peaceful weather. That’s my hope. I can get through this temporary storm and enjoy the sunshine. This is the key to dealing with the negative or problematic thoughts, understand that is what they are, just thoughts, and they will pass.

Am I really going to fake my own suicide? No, I am not.

My point is this, no matter how difficult your thoughts may be, especially this time of year, there is hope and a way of preventing yourself from falling back into the darkness.

This is not meant to be a sad blog post. This is a post about hope and positivity.

Listen, I can’t compare my life to others or my depression to others. No two people are the same and everyone who has depression doesn’t encounter what I have/had.

I want to reinforce the fact that this time of year is hard for people with depression. I get it. I understand it. I empathize with it. But you can handle this.

It is totally OK to feel that way. Do not feel pressured to be something you’re not. Recognize your challenging thoughts as passing weather and realize it doesn’t make you a bad person, or crazy, or whatever it tells you.

Christmas, in my opinion is about family, friends, and the connections we share amongst those people we love.

No disrespect intended, but how many of us truly celebrate the birthday of Jesus Christ? I don’t remember having a birthday cake on Christmas morning, saying “Happy Birthday Jesus”.

It’s about being with the people we love and care about. I know the people around me love me and care for me. But I cannot show or express that well right now because I struggle with this season. I have spent more money on gifts this year than ever before. I just want to give to others, and hopefully, it helps me feel something good about myself, even if it is just for a second. Seeing someone else happy ignites something in me. Something good and positive. Hell, I let my son open three gifts yesterday. I just wanted to see his joy.

You will be surrounded by people physically in a room or party, and feel lonely. I get it. Don’t worry about it (those are terrible words to say, but coming from me and where I have been, trust me).

Stay patient with the process of getting better. It’s a long, hard road to recovery. It’s a challenge, but it feels so good once you overcome this challenge.

I am not writing this on Christmas Eve to look for sympathy or to put a damper on the holiday. I am writing this to the people that need it the most. The people that are surrounded by so many, but feel so alone. My message is, you’re not alone. That’s just your thoughts telling you some lies. Not everyone in your life will understand you, but I do. And I want you to remember this when or if you’re feeling down. I am with you all the way. Because, whether you know it not, you are with me and together we will overcome this because we are fighters and will battle.

We might not fully understand it, but life is an amazing and wonderful thing. It is something worth celebrating and being grateful for. To all my friends, family, and strangers out there that find this a difficult time of year, I am here for you and you’re there for me.

I do not believe in giving in to my demons. I will endure the pain and conquer the thoughts. Defeat is not an option. Hopefully, my words help you understand that as well.

This is a time of year when our mental illnesses can really play havoc on our lives. Do not allow that to happen. You have the ability to fight. All you need is hope. Hope is the most powerful word this time of year. Hope is far greater than medications and books. Hope comes from within and it’s one thing that is truly yours. You give birth to the hope inside of you. With hope, you can overcome any obstacle that stands in front of you.

Happy Holidays!

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite Hope.”

-          Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Speaking to the Students- October 2017

This week can be described by the following terms;

Humbling.

Overwhelming.

Gratifying.

Touching.

It is Mental Illness Awareness Week 2017, and it was a busy week.

I was given the privilege and honour to speak in front of about 700 students at three different educational institutions in Truro, Nova Scotia. It was the first time I spoke about my life and my mental illness in front of a live audience.

It was a life changing experience for me, and I hope, for the people that listened to me.

Before I go any further, or you, as the reader make the assumptions, "it's not a big deal", or "stop talking about yourself T.J.", I want to tell you all why I always wanted to do this.

After speaking in front of 600 high school students, a student approached me and I could see it in his eyes that he was about to tell me something powerful and emotional.

As he fought back the tears, he courageously told me this;

"Two days ago, I was going to commit suicide. I was in a bad spot and I was looking for a sign, and I feel hearing you speak today was that sign for me."

I was instantly humbled and proud of that boy having the intestinal fortitude to share that with me. I wanted to hug him. I told him that I would be there for him if he needed anything and encouraged him to keep fighting.

I did not expect to hear that today. I may never hear from that kid again, I hope I do, but by sharing my story, I gave him some hope, and all he needs is hope to continue to be a warrior. If you read this, you my friend are a strong and inspiring individual and if there is anything I can ever do for you, please contact me.

Just before that young man shared his story with me, a young lady approached me. She looked at me simply asked, "What happened to you as a child?"

I looked at her with confusion on my face. I replied, "What do you mean?"

She quickly asked the same question again. I told her basically everything I talked about in my childhood was what happened. In the presentation, I gave a chronological recap of my life.

Now we were both somewhat confused with this conversation.

Then she made a comment along the lines of this;

"Well, something must have happened to you as a child."

She was eluding to the fact that because I have mental illnesses, something must have happened in my early years. Mental illness is not a simple equation like, A+B=C.

That's not how it works.

So, I told her nothing traumatic happen to me as a child, that it was later in my life that I started to notice the signs and symptoms of depression.

She said, "Oh", and then went about her business.

What did that quick exchange tell me?

That young person was not informed and educated on aspects of mental illness. That is not necessarily her fault. That's just how it is. She presumed there had to be a precursor for my illness. Maybe there was, but not in my childhood.

For me, it is important to speak to these students. I want to share my message of being at the very edge and give them a message of hope. Before October is over, I will have reached over 800 students. I think they are engaged with my story. I can relate with them as I am not too far removed from their age. I coach that age group in hockey. I get the stresses and struggles in their lives. Empathy is a skill I have to connect with these kids. When I listen, I just don't listen to the words. I listen for the emotion and the pain that they have. When I say I completely understand, they know I am not lying.

I need to continue to share my message of hope and recovery. It is often a predetermined thought that because you have an illness of any nature, that it is impossible for recovery. If you hear the word cancer, we instantly think of the worse. When we hear depression or schizophrenia, we automatically think of a chronic struggle with no chance of a meaningful life. My goal is to change this thought process with our youth. It will not happen over night, but it is possible if they become educated and want to be leaders in their schools.

My message is simple. Hope is MANDATORY. With hope, it is amazing what we can accomplish as humans. Hope comes in many forms for many people.

I will keep spreading that message and inspire people to keep fighting. And for those that are not fighting mental illness, I will continue to educate them to be more sympathetic and helpful to those of us that have our daily, internal struggles.

Because of these speaking opportunities, I have had people from my home province of Newfoundland and Labrador reach out to me about talking to schools back home. I hope (again with that word) that I can do this. I think it is worth an hour of the students time to listen to someone to that has been through the experience of dealing with mental illness.

I don't know if I have saved someone's life, but I know I have got their attention and have helped.

I do not need much time. Just an audience to share my story and message with. Words can be powerful. They are even more powerful when they are real and raw. I am not a story teller.

I see myself as an Inspiration Speaker.

"Start by doing what is necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly, you are doing the impossible."
                                                                                        - Francis of Assisi

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Societal Perception of Me or My Illness? - September 18, 2017

I tell myself that I do not care what other people think of me. At the end of the day, I do believe this. Maybe not always, but I do now. It helps me live each day.

That being said, my mind does wander from time to time. A general question arises for me; “But what do people actually think of you?”

I mean, when they look at me, is their first judgmental thought, “Hey, there is T.J., that guy with depression and speaks about it?”

Or is it, “Hey, there is T.J., the father, business owner, and hockey coach?”

Or is it, “Hey, there is T.J., you know that guy with depression and is crazy?”

Personally, it doesn’t bother me, but it has my curiosity. I know people are ignorant. They form their opinions and make their judgments. But I could care less. I am curious because I am interested in what makes them have these thoughts and believe these thoughts that they have no clue about. I mean, before they ever speak to me or meet me, do they already have their mind made up of who I am as a person because of my mental illness?

Wayne Dyer said it best, “The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don’t know anything about.”

It can be viewed that I took a huge risk speaking openly about mental illness. From my end, I didn’t calculate all of the possible societal backlashes. I didn't calculate the possible risks because I didn't care and believed that it didn't matter, that me sharing my story would only help others.

First example

Posting something on Facebook or social media can and will be seen by potential employers. So, if I applied for a job, before the recruiter or HR Manager even calls me, they could do a quick search on my social media and see that this guy ‘has’ depression. I think I applied for about 20 jobs in early spring. Not one phone call or email. I have the qualifications. I have the education. I have most of the experience. Perhaps, I just didn’t have the ‘proper mental health?”

Not saying this is the case. It's thought-provoking. 

I will not put everyone in the same group, but I do believe some people out there would see that as a red flag.

“We cannot hire someone who almost killed himself. That doesn’t look good on the company. Or maybe, “he will miss a lot of work due to his sickness. Maybe he cannot handle the stress of working here and his mental health could get worse.”

Few, if any, will admit this reality. I mean, companies cannot afford to let something like this get out to the public or media.

So, in many ways, I could be the most qualified applicant, but due to ‘an illness’, people and companies may want to avoid me. They do not want to deal with the ‘risks’ that come with someone with depression, and not just mild depression, but full-blown, ‘he cannot come back from it’ major depression. Stigma is attached to all of this in the workplace.

But are they avoiding me or my illness?

The answer to that question is, they are avoiding my illness, but it is the wrong answer. I rather the answer be they would be avoiding or rejecting me. I can comprehend that more.

But we cannot conduct surveys with HR Managers to ask them if they ever ‘not’ hired someone because of their mental health.

My last Record of Employment, where it says, “Reason for Issuing this ROE” simply has one word beneath it.

“Sickness”.

I have forgiven the situation, but it bothers me still to this day. I wish I could have done more.

Second Example

I have not had a drink of alcohol since April 12, 2017. I have a long-term goal of reaching November 12, 2017.

Prior to stopping, I wasn’t a drunk or an alcoholic. Just when I drank, I got messy and it effective me negatively and those around me. I don’t think I was ever physically abusive. I would use verbal attacks. Something I am not proud of.

Lately, I have been thinking about my alcohol stoppage. Not so much the stoppage, contrarily, the use of it again.

I don’t know if I have been having urges or maybe I want to test myself. I can’t understand why I am thinking about it, but the thoughts are there. I recognize the thoughts and deal with them accordingly.

I am all over the map with the thoughts too.

“What if I have a drink on November 13, 2017?” “Will the previous 18 months dry now be pointless and insignificant?”

“What will people think if they saw me drink, knowing that I made a commitment to not drink for so long?”

“I am 31 years old. I can make my own decisions.”

“What if I drink and cannot handle it again?” “But, what if I can?”

Every month I post on the 12^th day to recognize my new milestone of not drinking. I get praise from people. So, if I end my dry-spell, will people still send me messages of praise and tell me that they are proud of me? I am guessing no.

It could be seen as me letting people down or letting myself down. I don’t know.

Again, society-based questions. More curious than anything. Would people be worried about me? Well, there are many others than me that have depression and still drink alcohol. Are you worried about them? Possibly, someone may approach me and tell me that I shouldn’t be drinking. Their opinion will be noted and respected, but it doesn’t matter to my decision.

The last time I drank was a Sunday afternoon. I was with my best friend in a pub downtown Halifax watching a Toronto Blue Jays game. Sat next to us at the bar was the guitar player for the band Hedley. He gave me tickets to his show in Halifax the following night. We had a great time for an hour or two. We shared stories of our sons. His son’s name is Archer. Awesome name. I will never forget that.

Then the wheels came off.

Last time I drank, I believe my last thought I had before blacking out was, “I am going to jump off the bridge over Halifax harbor”.

Something along that nature I believe. The next day, I drove straight to the hospital in Yarmouth.

That's the last memory I have while drinking. It is something I have been open about. It is also the last impression I left on people. An impression that can be described in words.

"T.J. cannot drink because he will try to kill himself again."

I have come a long way since then with my illness and life. I believe I don’t drink because it is a safety protocol to have good mental health and to stay alive. Kind of like wearing my life-jacket on a cruise ship the whole time. Just in case.

Do I think I will have a drink again in my life?

Yes, I do.

When? Well, I don’t know. But I am sure there will be people thinking the worst. Maybe I can enjoy a drink like most others now. Before, when I drank, it was to drown the depression that I had no idea of how to handle.

I drank to cope, to turn into someone other than T.J. Maybe now I can have a drink to enjoy.

Maybe. But it won’t be any time soon.

These are just two prime examples I struggle with when it comes to my identity. I wonder if I am trying so hard to become a mental health advocate that people see my depression before they see me as a human.

Today, I woke up. Brushed my teeth. Got some gas and a coffee. Drove to the ferry terminal. Got on the ferry. Walked to my office. Said hello to a few strangers. Replied to a few emails.

Later today, I have to drive to Truro for hockey practice. I am playing hockey with some buddies later tonight. I mean, I am just a person living his life.

The difference is, I live it with a mental illness and any day can be difficult for me. But I am doing my very best to not let my illness define me or my life. You shouldn't let it define me either.

My illness can hinder all aspects of my life, but I am not letting it anymore. I have accepted that until my last breath, I will battle every day, like many others in this world that fight with their mental illness.

I am comfortable in my skin and who I am. I have grown so much over the last year or so. I am not the same person. I am trying to better myself every day. I am happy. I am doing whatever I can to live a meaningful life.

So, if someone looks at me and thinks, “There is T.J., the guy that talks so much about his mental illness and has depression.” So be it. I cannot control other people and their thoughts.

The stereotypes and stigma will be associated with mental illness until people become more educated on the illness and more is being done for the people that have a mental illness.

I know who I am and what I value in this life. I have a great understanding on my life. Better than ever before. 

There is only one person’s opinion I care about, and when he looks at me, he doesn’t see my mental illness. He sees someone different. He sees unconditional love. He sees a smile.

He sees his daddy.

"Most rules that you think are written in stone are just societal. You can change the game and really reach for the stars and make the world a better place."

                                                                      -Sebastian Thrun

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

#WorldSuicidePreventionDay - September 10, 2017

I think sometimes I try to lie or fool myself. I can’t help it. I also do not know why I do this. It truly confuses me. On my best days, I tell myself I have this depression thing figured out.

That’s a lie.

I feel I understand my illness. I have done a lot of reading and thinking. I am careful to trust my thoughts. They can be deceiving.

I think back.

It was December 2015. I am all by myself living in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. It’s before I went to a doctor and to the hospital. I recall putting the vehicle in the garage. As I got out to go to the house, I saw a hose. Just a simple vacuum hose. Black and coiled up. I can still see it. It was dusty and short, but long enough. I can still remember the thought I had that followed. Instead of thinking (or not thinking) that the hose may belong to a vacuum or where this vacuum may be, I thought this. “I have everything in front of me right now to end this torture that I don’t understand.”

That thought led to my second thought, well, more of a question, “Who will find me dead?”

I can't quite determine what prevented me from doing that.

I reflect on that critical moment in my life. I then close my eyes and envision what my life would have been if I did hook that hose up to the exhaust.

First of all, there would be no life. I wouldn’t feel or think anything.

Of course, it would have affected the people in my life more. I think of my parents. Their son killed himself and they would not know why. They would have buried their first born. I also believe that I would be less of a burden in their life. They would have had their time of grieving then wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. This was a common thought during my times of thinking about suicide. It is a hard thought to get rid of. My illness makes this thought seem logical. All the points are valid.

I honestly, not because I want to, but because sometimes I struggle with my thoughts, think that my son would be completely fine without me. He would not understand what happened to me at his age, or any age for that matter.. Here is how my mind justifies this claiming thought; if I killed myself, how would that be any different than me leaving and not be in his life at all? My thoughts make me believe it would be more cowardly and make me less of a human being by being alive and never seeing him as oppose to killing myself.

I do not try to have these thoughts. I cannot avoid them or pretend they do not exist. These are the types of hurtful and damaging thoughts that create a network of tormenting ideas or beliefs.

Then how would my friends be? They would be fine. Being gone would hurt at first, but they would be fine. It’s simple as that. I am sure they would miss me. Life goes on, but not for me.

I often think of that moment seeing the hose.

Ironically, as I write this, it is a day or two before #WorldSuicidePreventionDay.

I was so close. So close that I almost wrote a lengthy suicide note.

If I wanted it bad enough, I would have done it.

But something stopped me.

Some people ask me, “Why didn’t you do it?”

To be honest, I don’t have a clear and concise answer. All I know is I did not kill myself, so to me, it doesn’t matter what actually stopped me.

Maybe it was my son, my family, my friends, or none of the above. I do remember a few tears, though. Leaving them all behind made me sad, but at that point sadness and being numb was what I was accustomed too.

The reasons don’t matter in this situation. Just the result. The result is, I am still alive.

So much has happened and so much time has passed since that day in 2015. I still find myself searching for the answer that prevented me from killing myself.

As I said a few sentences ago, I do not have the ‘distinct’ reason. But I now have an idea of what was a part of saving me.

The word is etched into my skin.

Hope.

Hope can be defined many ways. I like this definition, “Grounds for believing that something good may happen.”

Hope comes in many forms. Some believe it is not a physical thing. Maybe I believed that once as well. Then I see my son and everything he has become. That’s hope in the physical form.

Emotionally, hope can be everything to a person. Hope could be a thought or feeling. Hope is also very real to me. “Hope is the dreams of a waking man.” (Not my words). Hope has made me smile, laugh, and cry.

Hope is being in a psychiatric unit in southwest Nova Scotia not having the will to take a drink of water or a bite of food because life seems pointless, but still being able to breathe. Each breath breathes hope.

Hope is having your parents come visit you every day in the hospital or calling you every day just to hear your voice to know you’re still alive.

Hope is sharing your struggle with your friends and have them stay by your side, no matter what kind of mess I may be in.

Hope is hearing from complete strangers that they also have their troubles and that I have helped them by not giving up myself. That I have inspired them to ‘keep on keepin’ on’.

Hope is the main ingredient for battling suicide. For me, hope came in many forms. It will be different for each person. It doesn't matter what form it may take. It is important that you have it.

Personally, I am a big believer of hope because I have seen its power first hand. I was at the bottom of the pit by myself. I lived in the darkness and suffered through a lot of my life, to no fault of my family, friends, or myself. And you may not know when you will find hope. You may not even know you found it, like I did that day in the garage. It's like a relationship; it doesn't matter who finds who first, it matters that you found each other.

Having depression is like being in quicksand, it slowly sucks the life from you. You may be able to fight it and keep your body from being devoured by the Earth. But once you feel you are getting out of the quicksand, it immediately reminds you of the power that it has to suck you down again. And so, it does. Suicide is quitting when the quicksand keeps dragging you down, and you let it.

Hope, on the other hand, is continuing to fight, no matter how many times that quicksand may pull you down. You decide if you want to fight your way back to the surface. You claw and scratch and kick for every inch and every breath. That fight inside of you? That is hope burning inside of you. Hoping that there is something better ahead. Hoping that if I can get out of this quicksand, life will be there for me. And so, it shall be.

The moral of the quicksand reference? I sometimes battle hourly, daily, weekly, monthly with thoughts of suicide in some way. Some days are very hard. I am down. But I have decided to keep fighting and not giving up. Hope guides me and gives me strength.

I hope to see my son graduate his first year of school.

I hope to fall in love someday.

I hope I can work a job that I love.

I hope I can repay my friends and family for holding me up while I wanted to fall.

I hope we win our first game of the hockey season.

Regardless of the magnitude or importance of the ‘hope’, they all give me purpose and a meaningful life.

I have many hopes and I will not realize any of them if I give up.

I decided to not give up. So, can you.

As long as you have a breath, you have hope. 

Find your hope and never give up.

Hope prevented my suicide from becoming a reality.

Happy World Suicide Prevention Day!

"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness."

                                                            - Desmond Tutu

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Year of the Demon- A Parent's Nightmare: By Ralph Smith June 25th, 2017

April 1st, 1986 was the best day of my life. It was the day my son, T.J. was born. The next best day occurred December 18th, 1987 on the birth of my daughter, Candace.  January 1st, 2016 was the worst day of my life. It was the day my son told me he had a mental illness – depression. It was supposed to be a happy phone call, but it was far from being happy. It was New Year’s Day and Bride (T.J.’s mom) and I phoned our son to wish him a “Happy New Year”. It could not be more ironic. Through tears and a daunting voice he told us he was depressed and did not want to live any more.  Suicidal thoughts were overtaking him. It set off a chain of multiple feelings and emotions. It tore at our hearts. Tears flowed. The emotional pain was unbearable. It was news that no parent would ever want to hear. This was the beginning of the biggest game of our lives. It was the biggest game of his life and we were determined not to lose. This was the first of many battles to come. It was the beginning of many trips to Nova Scotia.

Growing up in a small northern Newfoundland town, where winters were long and cold, TJ was no different than many other boys, whose main interest at a young age was sports, especially hockey. TJ grew up to be a good athlete with a good attitude. His most passionate sport became hockey. His minor hockey success led him to Truro, Nova Scotia where he was drafted by the Bearcats in 2003, and eventually to NCAA Division I in Springfield Mass.  Today he is still associated with the Bearcat organization as an Assistant Coach.

Education was valued at a premium and a high priority in our family. No different than hockey, TJ was very successful in school. This was evident in his last year of high school when his peers voted him class valedictorian. Graduating with honors was a sign that his knowledge and intellect would aid him to be very successful in life.

What does depression have to do with TJ’s life in St. Anthony? I guess what I am trying to point out is this dreaded disease do not target certain individuals. It attacks the young and the old, the weak and strong, the rich and poor. It does not prey on a particular religion, race or ethnic group. You cannot hide from this demon. It rears its ugly head in every corner of this planet. Nobody is safe from it. You or a member of your family could become a victim.

The trip to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia in January 2016 seemed like an eternity. Since this was the first time depression came knocking on our front door, we were left with many unanswered questions. Why us? What did we do wrong? Could we have prevented this? What are we going to do? Why doesn’t he answer his phone? Many more thoughts and questions went through our heads but the most chilling was “will we see our son alive again”?  Upon arriving in Yarmouth and seeing TJ for the first time since he told us he was depressed we saw someone, not our son, who was a total mess. We were devastated. It was a horror movie. It seemed like some unknown entity had taken control of his mind. His energy level was really low. He wanted to stay in bed all day. He had lost fifteen pounds. Personal hygiene was not good. He told us he felt he had this illness for about nine or ten years and it was not until Christmas 2015 when he finally broke down. At the time, there were many stressors in his life that caused him to come to terms with his mental illness. His hockey team, the Mariners, whom he was General Manager and Coach, were at the bottom of the Junior A League. Money wise, he was broke. Loneliness was overwhelming. Unpaid bills were piling up due to the fact he was addicted to gambling. He actually told me that gambling in some sick twisted way may have saved his life. Playing the machines were his only peace and solitude.

After one night in Yarmouth he wanted us to drive him to Sackville to see Nash. We reached out to his ex and she had no problem with us staying with her and Nash. It turned out to be a heart wrenching three or four days. TJ would randomly break down in tears and all of us, including Candace, who came to visit, and we did our best to console him. To have our twenty-nine year old son crying in our arms in a trembling voice is something I will not soon forget. “Dad, I am afraid, I am so afraid. I don’t know what to do”. It was a difficult and emotional moment for all of us. He was scared that this ungodly illness was going to make him commit suicide. Worse again, he thought he might “flip out” and do something terrible to Nash or one of us. We cannot explain the mixed bag of feelings and emotions we experienced in those few days. Needless to say, there were tears – a lot of tears.

Upon returning to Yarmouth, TJ did not want to go back to the house he was renting. We stayed in a hotel for two nights. We were worried about his every move. We were always uneasy and anxious, whenever he went to the washroom, especially if we thought he was in there longer than normal. “TJ are you ok?” His Mom would ask. Silence. “You okay?” “Yes.” There was a sense of relief when he answered. His illness was beginning to take a toll on us. We did not eat or sleep. The stress was getting to us but we had to stay strong for his sake as well as our own.

TJ had previously seen a doctor the day we arrived in Yarmouth. He was told to come back to get blood work. I think on a Monday we brought him to the hospital but it was too late to get the blood work done. Still not having any energy, not eating, we convinced him to see a doctor. We thought this would be a challenge, but to our surprise, he was quite willing.  He was finally feeling the need for professional help and support. After a conversation with the doctor, we both agreed that the best option was to admit him to the Psychiatric Unit. He was more than willing to be admitted. He was finally going to get the professional help he needed. The only help we could give him was our love and support. After being diagnosed with clinical depression, we spent the next two to three weeks in an out of the hospital. If we were not at the hospital, we were busy cleaning the house he was renting and moving his few belongings to a small basement apartment.

There is a stigma that comes with “psychiatric ward”. The psychiatric unit in Yarmouth Hospital, as far as we are concerned, was a state-of-the-art facility. The staff were unbelievable personal and professional. TJ always maintains that they helped save his life. Seeking professional help was his first step in battling this illness. His second step came when he was discharged from the hospital for a few hours and through social media, broke his silence, publicly stating he was battling depression. This was a huge burden lifted off his shoulders. We never had to lie anymore. Family and friends now knew why we suddenly left St Anthony.

After his six weeks in Yarmouth and TJ out of the hospital we thought he was showing improvement in his well-being. We decided to return home to St Anthony. Bride had taken her vacation plus extra time and felt she needed to get back to work. We were home for about a week when we got the second dreaded call. TJ had a relapse. He admitted himself back in the hospital. Bride, having no holidays remaining and just getting back to work, decided it was best for her to remain home and I would return to Yarmouth.

After spending more time in the Unit, TJ tried to motivate himself to get back to work after he was discharged in early March. Although he was given more time off from work, he felt he should attempt to get back to his job. I guess he was beginning to worry about keeping his job. His attempts were all in vain. He never had the stamina. He did coach a game on a Saturday night but could not answer the call for Sunday afternoon’s game. I gave him full marks for trying. After eight weeks in Yarmouth, I decided I would return back to NL. I had stayed until his 30th birthday on April 1st. I think it was April 8th I made my reservations to go back home. It appeared he was making big strides on his road to recovery. There were moments he wanted to push his limits. He figured alcohol was a means to relax and release some of his stress. I told him alcohol was not the answer. “But Dad my doctor said I can still drink”. “TJ, alcohol is a depressant and besides it does not mix with medication”. I guess he had to learn the hard way and maybe it was a blessing in disguise. The day I left to come home one of his best friends came from NL to visit him for the weekend. You know what happened next.

I was home for the weekend and I think it was Tuesday when the phone rang. “Dad I am so sorry I am back in the hospital.” Another blow that knocked me to the canvas. I could not stay down. I had to get up and continue fighting. His weekend long drinking spree caused another relapse that landed him back to the psychiatric unit. Something positive did come from this setback. He learned an important lesson. Alcohol does not contribute to the healing process of depression. TJ has not drank alcohol since that eventful weekend. I believe it is now over fourteen months. Great job. One hurdle conquered.

I did not return back to Yarmouth this time. I wanted to, but he insisted that I stay home and informed me he would be fine. I think he was in hospital for two days before being released again. Could a short stay mean his illness was improving? We remained optimistic. We were hoping. In the days that followed, he reassured us he was doing okay. On the 18th of April we received another devastating phone call. This time it was not TJ. It was the owner of the Yarmouth Mariners. He called to inform me they were releasing TJ of his duties as GM and coach. He wanted to know if it was easier for him or me to tell TJ that his services were no longer needed. It was getting late in the year and they needed to move forward. Either way, it was not going to be easy. Another punch in the gut for my son. I told the owner I would tell hm. It took me more than an hour to conjure up enough strength to phone him and relay the bad news. After all, how could you tell your depressed son he has been fired from his dream job that he so passionately loved.  Misty eyed, I told him the bad news. I could sense another relapse. Obviously, he took the news hard, but fortunately there was no major setback. Actually, I think it made him stronger. He did not like the hand he was dealt, but he wasn’t going to fold.

After losing his job, TJ moved to Elmsdale to be with his sister and her partner. There were several advantages in moving there. First, he would be living with someone else. The loneliness was still prevalent, but he would have family present. Secondly, he had a greater chance to see his son, Nash more often. Thirdly, it gave him the opportunity to be part of the coaching staff of his old team- Truro Bearcats. Fourth, we finally convinced him to see a counsellor. A major disadvantage of living in Elmsdale was the fact he had to travel to Yarmouth for his ECT’s. He started the ECT’s when he was a patient at the Yarmouth hospital. Although there was a short-term memory loss with those, they did make him feel much better. The thought of an ECT was scarier than the actual procedure. He had educated himself about this procedure and no doubt in my mind this was the route he wanted to take. I think he made five or six trips back to Yarmouth after his move to Elmsdale. He received his last treatment in November 2016.

The last six months of 2016 I made two more trips to Nova Scotia. There were no major setbacks. I felt there was a need to spend time with my son, support him and encourage him to continue in his fight against this demon called depression.

My son came home for Christmas 2016, as well as my daughter. It was the first time we were all together for Christmas in NL since they were kids. We could not have asked for any better holiday. An almost perfect world. The only thing missing was our grandson, Nash. While home, TJ played two games of shinny hockey with his buddies. To see the smiles on his face and hear the laughter he shared with friends was soothing therapy. It made me feel warm inside. I felt good. It was the best feeling I had in 2016. He had come a long way from January to December. Year of the Demon was almost over.  Hoping for a much better year in 2017. It could not get any worse, could it?

On January 3rd, 2017 around 4 a.m. the sound of the phone ringing brought Bride and I out of our sleep. Looking at the clock and then at each other, we knew this was not going to be a call we were looking forward to. Unpleasant thoughts raced through my head as Bride answered the phone. I picked up the second phone. To hear his voice was a relief, but his voice was shaking and muffled as he spoke through a flow of tears. Another major setback. We listened intently as he cried and cried. “I don’t know what to do, I am so, so sorry” I cannot recall the exact conversation that early morning but I do remember the gist of it. He was gambling, lost the small amount in his account and much more besides. An addicted gambler finds ways to get money. He was driving home and was about fifteen minutes away. He said he could barely see the road through the tears and the pouring rain. We talked him into pulling over. We told him we were glad and proud that he phoned. We told him we would get through this. After what seemed like an eternity we told him to regroup, focus, take his time and continue driving home. We kept him on the phone until he pulled into his driveway. He cried all the way home but before he hung up, he told us he was fine and felt a little better. The next day we talked to him and he seemed to be okay. We paid his gambling debts and hoped it was a bump in the road. A week later, the phone rings again, at seven in the morning. It was our daughter telling us that TJ has checked himself into the hospital in Truro. She did not know all the details, but said he text her to tell her he was at the hospital. She said it was no good to phone him – his phone was almost dead. By mid-afternoon we still had not heard from him. We were worried and anxious. Waiting impatiently, I decided to call the head coach of the Bearcats. He went to the hospital to check on TJ. He wasn’t there. A nurse did say he was there earlier. We continued to play the waiting game. Around 4:30 he finally contacted us. He said there was a long waiting period at the hospital and he just got back. He was tired and had not slept for 30 plus hours. He was gambling again. Another trip to NS was forthcoming.

I left for Elmsdale on January 13th and returned home Feb 1st. This was my shortest stay. Again, I forgave his debts. During my stay, Candace and I came up with some strategies to alleviate his gambling addiction. I will not go into details. These strategies were not 100% foolproof. It did help. I guess gambling addiction is like any addiction – it takes time, perseverance and willpower to kick it. In early May, he gambled again. This time on a smaller scale. His greatest urge to gamble arises when he goes periods of time without anything to do. Being alone with little to do provoked the urges.

On May 12th Bride and I decided to go back to Elmsdale. This time it was our own decision TJ was not having another relapse. We thought it was a good time to be with both our kids. As well, we were there to help Nash celebrate his fifth birthday. It was family time well spent.

The road to recovery has been a slow process for TJ but he is getting there. He has come a long way from Jan 1st, 2016 to June 1st, 2017. It has not been an easy eighteen months. Not easy at all. Nobody said that life was going to be easy. Not once has he quit fighting. He battles his illness each and every day, but I think the battles are becoming less frequent. Through his perseverance, strength, courage and resilience, he has been pulled back into the light and has a purpose in life. We will continue to love and support him. It would be what any parent would do for their child. Never give up. The greatest healing therapy is support and love. There is not a single day goes by without talking to our son. Some days we talk two or three times. Each night lying in bed we think about him. Each morning we wake up thinking about him.

With the hockey season over and his coaching duties finished for the summer, he has been concentrating on getting a job. To date he has not been very successful. With no job opportunities, he decided to start his own business. It is a business he hopes will help people struggling with mental illness. It’s in the early stages but he is “pumped” to get it off the ground. Hopefully it works out for him.

They say things happen for a reason. No parents want to see their child suffer and struggle with mental illness, but through this ordeal there was a silver lining. It has brought this family closer together, especially our two kids. Candace has become his rock. Without her support, I cannot imagine where he would be today. This disease has made us all much stronger. It has shown us the true meaning of unconditional love. It has given our son a second chance. His new purpose in life is to help end the stigma associated with mental illness and do whatever it is in his power to help people struggling with mental illness.

There is still a stigma associated with mental illness. I never realized this until the illness hit home. We will probably never wipe it completely out but we can certainly minimize it. This stigma was never more evident than when my son applied for jobs in NS. When nothing became available he applied for jobs across Canada. Many applications. No luck on a job. He not only did not get a job, he never even got an interview. Why? Somebody better qualified? Jobs filled within? He was not qualified? Or was it because he publicly stated he was struggling with mental illness? Maybe I am out in left field on this, but I firmly believe it was the latter. It is a hard pill to swallow when you have graduated from University with a degree and cannot find a job.

In conclusion, I give you a small piece of advice from personal experiences. First and foremost, if you, a family member, friend or anybody you know struggles with a mental illness, please help them break the silence. Don’t let them suffer alone. Once they speak out, get them to a doctor. Medications prescribed by a specialist will help the recovery process. Just as important as meds is counselling.  I was told in a seminar in Yarmouth that counselling therapy speeds up the recovery. This certainly is the truth.

Secondly, you may not be able to professionally help your child with mental illness, but you can play a very important role in his/her recovery. Have faith in them. Give them hope. More importantly support them with all your love. It is written in the bible “faith, love and hope, but the greatest of these is love”. No truer words were written. Last Sunday was Father’s Day. My son did not give me a new pair of skates or a new 80’’ TV. Nor did he give me a new car. He gave me a gift more precious than any of these. He gave me the best gift a son could give a father. He gave me the “gift of life”. My son is still alive. It’s a gift I will take every Father’s Day.

"Bad things do happen; how you respond to them defines your character and the quality of your life. You can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of your loss, or you can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most previous gift you have – life itself."

                                                                                - Walter Anderson 

Why I Started A Business - June 15, 2017

I feel compel to explain why I began my business venture. In my eyes it is quite simple, yet complex.

"Why are you doing this T.J.?"

That's a common question people ask me. Money lenders. Banks. Funding agencies. The government. Friends. Strangers

My answer is, again, simple.

I just want to help people. I want to help people fight their illness. I want to help families understand. I want to help businesses provide proper support for employees. I want to prevent suicides.

I may sound like a unintelligent business person when I say it is not about the money. In my mind, it is not. Providing support is more important.

Everyday that it takes longer to get my business operational, I feel awfully bad about it because if I had done it sooner, maybe I could be helping someone right now.

I could have done this from a non-business platform, but I need work as well. I want to do something I am passionate about. Helping people is what motivates me to get up and make a difference in someone's life.

I won't lie. I haven't slept yet. I am too excited about my business. I am nervous and excited, all at once. Outside of being a father, this gives me a purpose in life.

I want to make it clear that I am not a doctor or a certified counselor. I am just me. Rare, transparent, and empathetic. I am not trying to take their customers or create competition. Rather, I want to help them help people with mental illness. I want to work with them to help people.

Here are some stats I found:

1 in 5 suffer some kind of mental illness, so if you have a family of at least 5 people, someone maybe suffering right under your nose.

About $42.9 Million was billed in Nova Scotia last year. That equals $117,534.25 per day.

Emergency Visits (Outpatients) in N.S. = 53,235 visits, which equals about 146 per day.

Of those 53,235 people, 43,034 were treated and released. To be fair, I don't know what 'treated' means. It could be hospitalization. It could be a diagnosis. It could have been a prescription. Hell, it could have been, "You're fine. Go home and it will go away." I don't know. It's not descriptive on what 'treated' means.

About 477,478 people in Atlantic Canada suffer from a type of mental illness.

About 20% of the workforce suffers some kind of mental illness.

These are the numbers we know of. Some people still may be suffering in silence or afraid to seek any kind of help.

Suicide is one of the leading causes of death of men and women from adolescence to middle age.

49% of people who feel they have suffered from depression or anxiety have never went to a doctor about their problems.

Suicide is one of the leading causes of death among 15-24 year olds in Canada. About 4,000 suicides in Canada per year.

Here's the stat that really bothers me;

1 in 5 children who need mental health services receive them.

That number is too low. So, statistically speaking, if 100 children suffer from a mental illness, only 4 will receive the necessary services.

Then we are left to question why teens hide their problems. They are accustomed to it at an early age.

The system is flawed and weak here in Atlantic Canada. I talk to people. One of my first questions I ask is, "How was your doctor/or hospital experience?"

The answers are rarely positive.

Understanding a mental illness is a true mystery in our society. It is said, unless you have suffered yourself, you cannot understand the pain.

The numbers don't lie. More needs to be done. I want to be a small part of helping the battle against mental illness in our society.

I am going to help.

www.battlehealthconsulting.com

"We talk a lot about hope, helping, and teamwork. Our whole message is that we are more powerful together."
                                                                - Victoria Osteen

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Cannot Think of an Appropriate Title- June 3, 2017

Why do I write? Am I an attention-seeker? Looking for someone to pity me?

None of the above.

I write to inspire and help others that battle with mental illnesses. I want to let them know that they are not alone and it is OK to have those struggles. I share my experiences (the good, the bad, and the ugly) with people and the public to show that if you have hope and want to get better, it is possible. It is not easy, but possible. So I write the following;

What matters in life are the things that do not cost money.

I am understanding this now. 'Now' is imperative to my life.

Why now? Because the dirt I walk on is not as poor as me. Financially speaking.

Materialistically, this is what I have and don't have;

1) I live with my sister and her boyfriend in their basement rent-free because they are caring, loving, and sympathetic human beings.

2) 31 years old and my parents still help me with money. I do not have a job. I couldn't even get an interview the last month or so.

3) I have a car. Well, it ain't mine. Number 1 and number 2 listed above are helping with that so I can drive to coach hockey and pick my kid up.

4) I have never lived by myself. What I mean is, all my life, I have lived with my family, or billets, or friends, or girlfriends. 31, and never had a place to call my own.

5) My sister, extended her line of credit to pay of my overdue bills and debt.

6) I can't really buy my son stuff. "Hey Daddy, Can I have a chocolate chip muffin?" Sorry Nash. I don't have any money. He lives with his mom, my ex, who just got engaged.

But non-materialistic things, in my mind, the important things in life, this is what I have;

1) The best sister any brother can ask for. I am forever in debt to her and her boyfriend and I am grateful that you are my sister. I love you.

2) I would be dead if it wasn't for my parents. Literally, there would have been a funeral already. 'Nuff said.

3) Two things that keep me motivated to live- Nash and hockey. I get to be apart of both because of my family and their support.

4) What is it like to live alone? Well, emotionally, I have been on my own forever. I made a goal the other day. I said it to myself. "T.J., by Christmas you will have your OWN place." I rise up to challenges.

5) I owe my sister, and many others money. Fortunate enough to have those people in my life. People who are there to help when I am at my weakest. When I have nothing left, they are there to extend their hand and say, "It's OK T.J. I got you." I am humbled to have met you people and have you in my life. My gratitude is ever-extending.

6) I was asked a couple times today, "How do you feel about your ex getting engaged?" I replied, "I am happy for her." Am I suppose to be jealous? I am not. On the contrary, I am super happy. Nash will now have a stepdad and someone else to love him. More love is a good thing.

7) I began a new business. I decided it's time to help others who suffer on a bigger stage. I am going to help someone I have yet to meet yet. I cannot wait to make a difference in their life.

8) I have pages and pages of my thoughts and feelings recorded. It's over 500 pages written over the last 18 months. I look around my room and see books people have given me (charity is just not money, I think I bought one of them). I see binders and binders of hockey stuff pertaining to coaching. If I am to guess, there are ten or so. I have clothes in my closet and socks in my drawers. I have a bed, which I did not buy. I honestly don't know where it came from. The TV I look at isn't mine. The bureau it rests on was also given to me. I have golf clubs, softball gear, and hockey equipment. I bought my softball glove. My hockey gear was all given to me at some point. Except my jock. That, I bought this year. Even the computer I type on was given and the computer bag I carry it in.

But most of all I have my life.

To recap; I have about $40.00 in my bank account. But that doesn't phase me. Not at all.

I have the important things in life that people struggle to realize is what really matters. When I die, I cannot take money with me. I can take the feelings and thoughts and laughs and tears and smiles and love I have experienced in my life. In no particular order I have and found the following;

1. Family.
2. Love for my family.
3. Great friends that care about me.
4. Sympathy and empathy.
5. Strength.
6. Compassion and understanding.
7. Hope.
8. Real tears.
9. The ability to make my son smile and hug me.
10. Appreciate hard, honest work.
11. Resilience.
12. Acceptance of my thoughts and feelings.
13. Forgiveness.
14. Inspiration.
15. Happiness.

I am glad I don't have money or material things. Without them, I wouldn't have found the better things in life. Things that make me rich in ways money could not. This was important to fight my depression. Depression comes in all kinds of forms. External and internal factors influence the illness. I learned to handle the controllable factors and focus on my attitude towards the non-controllable factors to manage my illness.

Everyday, I learn something new. Whether it is a bad day or good day, I take personal teaching points from it. That is how I improve as a person. I want to get better everyday, so I decide that I will.

For example, some days or nights I may have some struggling hours. I don't tell people as much as I used too. I challenge myself. I say;

"OK T.J., we have been here before. You know this pain. You know this feeling. You know the thoughts that come with it. So, here we go, again"

I then reply, in a guided, softer voice.

"You can handle this. You know why? You're still alive. You have experienced these battles before. These demons got nothing on you. Maybe, in the past, when you didn't have your attitude, character, and resilience built up, they may have harmed you. But now, you're a fucking warrior. Just because there are tears, you are not soft or weak. You are strong and true. The tears validate your ability to handle whatever comes at you.You take the blows and hits, but you keep getting back up. You can handle this. You got this."

That's all there is to it. I want to live, so therefore I must fight. Desperately and with urgency, I battle to stay alive.

I will encourage and motivate others to do the same because at the end of the day, it doesn't matter how big your bank account or house is. It is up to you if you want to fight, regardless of where you are in life. We come into this world with nothing. Just the air in our lungs, our beating heart, and thinking mind. When we leave this world, we have no more air, no more beats, and no more thinking.

Life is a gift, they say. You really don't work for a gift. It is just given to you. So, I will disagree, to a certain extent that life is not a gift, but an honour. You must fight for your honour. You must work hard. You must fight and never give up.

I have surprised myself because I didn't quit.

I hope you don't quit, because you can fight this.

It's difficult, but doable.

Accept it for what it is and be ready to battle. People will be there to help you, but first you have to take ownership of your destiny.

It's worth it. Please, trust me.

#iamhereforyou

"No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path."
                                                                                                    - Buddha

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Building Resilience from Failing- May 16, 2017

It's time for me to take control of my life. I lie awake here at 1:16 a.m. thinking about my life and what a failure I have been in life.

That's the negative thinking.

Another thought passes. And another comes to mind.

I had to ask myself a few questions.

What exactly have I failed at? I don't have a job and am completely broke. Does that make me a failure? I live with my sister while I am trying to get back on my feet. Does that make me a failure? I rely on my family and friends for financial support. Does that make me a failure? I do not get to see my son everyday because we have a healthy, split family. Does that make me a failure?I have had a few relationships not work out. Does that make me a failure?

Does all of that qualify me as a failure? Maybe in some circles of people. To the crude and narrow-minded. Maybe in some obscure perspectives, people see me as a failure.

But not to the most important person.

To me. I am not a failure.

Some days I think I am. I feel I am. Not on this day. I remind myself of the following accomplishments;

- High School Valedictorian
- 3 Time Junior A (MHL) Champion
- NCAA Division 1 Athlete
- University Graduate
- Father to a young boy that I dearly love
- Decided to quit drinking
- Fighting a mental illness everyday, in one way or another
- Helping other people with their mental illness or health issues
- Speak openly about my depression in a society that still has trouble understanding
- People actually telling me I helped save their life
- People telling me that I have influenced and inspired them
- I have been the happiest in my life ever, while my bank account reads. $ -13.89

Not bad for a failure. But a failure I am not. I am my own biggest critic. Tonight, as I lie wide awake while the people in my world sleeps, I have decided to be great. I have decided to take ownership of my life.

I was discouraged earlier this day. I was focusing in on all the wrong in my life. The things that I do not currently have in my life. Job. Money. Wife. Son (daily). House. It made me sad. It also made me think. It made me think I was a failure. Then I decided that is not what I am.

So, I took action. I began to look for jobs. A challenge for someone like me who has spent the majority of his adult life playing or coaching hockey. A challenge for someone like me that has trouble handling bad news, like being told you did not get the job. I don't have the experience most employers seek. But I do have the life experience that many people will never get in their entire life.

The way I see it, it took me this long in life to realize it is difficult and you have to work for everything. If it was easy, everyone would be living a fulfilling life.

I have fell down several times in my life. I will probably fall a time or two again. But every time I have fallen, I somehow found a way to rise, again and again.

I have built my resiliency from my failures in life.

I have been fragile in my life. Though, I have never broken.

I have no idea how powerful and lasting my resiliency is. I will realize that power when I am about to take my last breath and close my eyes for the final time. For every struggled I encountered, I found a way to battle back. There are no style points. I have been knocked down so many times that I am quite comfortable being on the ground and in the presence of adversity. I am no stranger being faced down in the dirt all by myself. With every action, there is a reaction. Every time I have tasted the ground, I managed to turn over, faced up, and had the courage and ability to rise to my feet, especially when it is easier to stay down and quit.

With that being said, it is time for me to take control of my life. I believe I am in the recovery stage of my depression battle. In my world, that means more good days than bad. More happy thoughts than sad. More life than death.

Today I applied for a job and looked up many others. Yeah, to most people reading this, that may seem like nothing. For someone that has depression like me, it means a lot. It means progress. A step in the right direction. I am probably not going to get that job, or the next one I apply for. That's not going to stop me. I am no longer afraid to face life problems or some adversity. Rather, I am built for it. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually.

I know how to handle setbacks. It is a skill I learned and developed. It takes time. It takes strength. It takes almost everything. It almost took everything. I am grateful for the resilience I have built up. It has kept me alive. Kept me pushing forward to where I am now.

A broke, jobless, worthless success. It hasn't been the easiest ride, but smooth seas never made a skillful sailor.

"I think one thing is that anybody who's had to contend with mental illness - whether it's depression, bipolar illness or severe anxiety, whatever - actually has a fair amount of resilience in the sense that they've had to deal with suffering already, personal suffering."

                                                                               

                                                                                                        - Kay Redfield Jamison

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

Time to End the Stigma

A year since my public announcement has come and gone.

I lived it. I learned from it. I am better for it.

It sure as hell was not a boring year for me and anyone associated with me.

And I used the words "I" and "me" about seven times total so far. It is not about me. Eight.

Something greater than me decided it wasn't my time to die. Decided there was a reason for me to stay on this planet. I know what that is now.

It cannot be said in so many words, but I am going to try.

I have been thinking about this for a few days now.

A friend I met through my journey recently said to me, "There is still a stigma out there for mental health when it comes to gaining, having, or losing a job."

Someone else suggested to me that it may be smart to not be so open about my illness on social media or in my blog. Try not to write the things I do.

Meeting a woman could be difficult. Hide the fact that I have Depression. Then get into a couple dates, or something more serious and say, "By the way, I suffer from major depression."

Basically, I am not going to do it how it has been historically done, I want to change people's lives. I cannot do that by doing what has already been done. I am going above and beyond. There will be obstacles for me.

I am different. I know I am different. And I also know I am not different because I have a Mental Illness. I am different because I choose to speak about it openly. I give the silence a voice. A voice that needs to be heard.

If I do not speak, who will?

If I do not write, who will?

Would someone hide the fact that they have cancer from an employer? Would they hide the fact that they have diabetes from an employer?

I am not going to back down. I never will.

This topic is of interest to me because I have no job and I am trying to get one as we speak. Right or wrong, I put it clearly in my cover letter that I have a mental illness. I do that so when the HR Department does a quick search of my Facebook or Twitter, there are no surprises. I am coming through the front door.

Perhaps I am being stupid or stubborn. Truly, I do not care of the judging. In my eyes, I am being strong and holding my ground firm. I am not hiding. I will never do that again. I am trying to be a launching pad for others. Not a doormat.

The moment I hide my illness and 'pretend' to be something I am not to gain employment is the moment I play right into the stigma that is attached to Mental Health.

Sadly, I see it first hand. I walked into a hospital a few weeks back. As I spoke to the triage nurse, I told her I am having suicidal thoughts and idealizations. She asked how severe were these thoughts?

She was just following protocol, I guess. Does it fucking matter how 'severe' my thoughts of suicide are?

"You know, I am thinking about tying weights to my ankles and jumping in a lake. I am not sure if I am going to do it tonight, but I am considering the idea a lot tonight."

Sorry dear, and it's not your fault, it's the system, but any suicidal thought for someone with Depression is a severe thought. In my mind, it is possible.

So, I told the nurse I do not feel safe by myself. I went back to the waiting room.

Within thirty minutes, someone came and summoned my name. I was shocked that I was called so soon. I am thinking this is great.

Wrong T.J.

So, I was placed in a room. I looked at what was available in that room. There were items there that I could have used to kill myself.

I saw a doctor that I assume was on call. I don't know. He asked a few question then leaves. I am still waiting.

And waiting.

I waited eight hours to see a mental health crisis team lead and a psychiatrist. That's too long. That happened in one of the newest hospitals in Nova Scotia. That was the doctor that said it may be Borderline Personality Disorder.

It took the doctor years of education and many dollars to take ten minutes to know me? Sorry, I am not a doctor, but you did not help. I don't care if that doctor reads this. Not my problem that the doctor was wrong. But it might be someone else's, unfortunately.

The mental health team crisis worker cared more about my well-being than the doctor.

All I wanted was to be admitted because I didn't feel safe. If there is no space, well that should be a sign that more needs to be done.

If the mental health sector of the health care in Nova Scotia is overwhelmed, try to find a solution rather than adding to the problem.

Obviously, I am OK. That visit done nothing to help me. Just opened my eyes.

That was my first hand experience recently.

Back to the employment search.

Who will dare hire a guy with major clinical depression?

'He's was in the looney bin. He has an addiction. Too much risk with him.'

How do you know?

You immediately see the illness. Not the person. You don't know me.

Hope the employees are treated better than me. Then again, you may not know they have an illness because you do not create a working environment where they can speak freely of their illness in fear they may lose their job.

I learned today that 1 in 5 Canadians suffer some kind of mental illness. I knew that. What I did not know was that stat only reflects the people that speak about their illness. Not the people that still hide it. So my question is, how many more people keep their illness quiet? The stat would change. I guarantee it. I respect that people do not want to share their illness to others. I understand why. I am just trying to change the societal stereotype people still have so more people can seek the proper help.

I am rambling on. Sorry. My point is that I am never going to hide the fact that I suffer from a mental illness. I am going to help end this stigma. This is my way of doing that. To talk about. But talk is cheap and now it's game time. Someone needs to step up to the plate.

I am trying to add to #BellLetsTalk. I don't know if I can trademark or patent the awareness idea, but it's now time to #TakeAction. Money has been raised. Time for someone or someones to put it to good use. I am a Canadian. I am using my freewill of speech to convey a message. I still know people that suffer silently because of the following reasons;

- Family do not understand/Will disown you
- Fear of losing employment/Not getting employment
- Fear of losing friends
- Fear of losing partner
- Fear of public rejection/Perception in community
- Not sure if they have an illness
- Were never educated on the topic
- Do not have the resources available for help

That's just what I know and have been told.

A lot of people took part in #BellLetsTalk day. Still, there are people that don't want to talk and the reason why is because of the external factors in their life.

There are a lot of hypocrites out there.

You are not going to scare me. You did for years. That time is over. And I am going to give strength to others to share their stories too and get the required help that is needed for them to continue to live their life.

I, along with others, are going to overcome the bureaucratic bullshit and nonsense. You will not stop me and others like me.

This is not a blog entry directed at anyone or any one organization. It's just me telling others how it really is in Nova Scotia and Newfoundland.

"Well, how do you know T.J.?", you may ask.

I will reply like this;

"People tell me their stories. They trust me more than health care professionals because I understand their struggles. They instill trust in me. Young and old talk to me. I been in the trenches. I know what they are talking about when they say they just want to die. I have compassion for them because I care about them. I may only know them for minutes, but where they trust me, I, in turn, give them my compassion and any help I can provide. I am going to help them."

I was dealt a shitty hand once upon a time. I had to play the cards I was dealt. I bluffed everyone for years. Now, I still have shitty cards, but instead of bluffing and losing, I now know when to fold and to play another hand. Yeah, I may not win every hand, but I am not losing them either. Moral of the story? I am still in the game, and doing pretty good with whatever cards are dealt to me daily.

Right or wrong......wait a minute.

It's right. It's right for me.

I do have a mental illness and I am not hiding it from anyone. I never will again. If you judge me on the illness I have, shame on you and you're a shallow person and truthfully, do not want you in my life. I do not fear rejection. I do not care about judgement. I will not be intimidated. I certainly will not go down without a fight.

Each day I am growing stronger. I have put things in perspective a little better than before. I am understanding life. Priorities change.

The mind of a child is a wonderful thing. My son looks at me and what does he see? He sees his daddy. That's all he sees. He loves me for being there for him. He does not see an illness because he is not infected with the negative tags that come with having a mental illness from others. Who said having a mental illness was a bad thing? Someone or a group of people decided it was a taboo topic.

Ironic really.

Everyone knows at least one person that suffers from a mental illness.

The irony? The person may not know they have a friend that suffers.

Maybe you should.

"You must do the things you think you cannot do"
                              - Eleanor Roosevelt

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Forgive, Gratitude, and Help

Personally, it is my newfound knowledge and belief that I have a second chance at life. I do not believe it was given to me. Rather, I worked hard to get the opportunity. I went through years of silent pain. Cries that went unheard. Tears that filled my eyes. A monster inside trying to release misery. Years and years of internal torture. So, no, I wasn't given a second chance. I feel I earned a second chance at life.

I finally had the courage to get help and speak freely about my struggles. Have you ever suppressed figurative demons for over ten years? Develop and sustain terrible and regrettable behaviours? Fall into a mess of addictions and debt? Form awful habits that altered your life?

I am not bragging, but I been through a whole whack of things, therefore, I earned my second chance at life. Most of, if not, all of my problems were self-induced. But the stem of my issues began with with my mental illness that I hid. That is no lie.

Henceforth, I want to lead and live a better life. It has been a year since I asked for help to save my life and to change my life. It has been, and is a difficult and long journey. How am I still alive? Well, I refuse to quit. Now I get my second chance.

First of all, I am forever grateful that I get a second chance to live my life. Not just the physical meaning of being alive, but to actually live it. Some people are not so lucky. I will not waste my opportunity.

Three words helped save me; Hope. Inspiration. Strength.

I have found three more words that will allow me to live my life.

Forgive. Gratitude. Help.

I am unsure what word is the most imperative today or what word holds more weight. I only know they have given me a new way to look at life. And 'life' is the keyword.

Why?

Simple.

Forgiveness, gratitude, and help can and will never be taken from me. Eventually, my life will be. But only when the time is right. And right now, I am not really to go. Not even close.

Dictionary.com describes the word 'forgive' as 'to cease to feel resentment against'.

Why does it matter?

It matters because I believe it is a word used loosely by people. I think it is important to know the meaning of a word. Especially a word that I plan on using often and with a purpose.

Late April, right up to mid August or so, I was filled with bitterness, disappointment, and resentment. I lost my dream job in late April. It impacted all aspects of my life.

I was seeing a girl who I was developing serious feelings for. I may have fell in love. I just began my path to being sober. I was getting counselling and treatments with medical personnel.  I had accepted the fact that my son was in another town three hours away and his mother and I were going to make it work.  I wasn't gambling very much. Things seemed to be on the right road, for the first time in a long time. Maybe ever.

It, in my mind, all came to a sudden halt, thus, I went off the road again.

Losing my job made me sour. I guess that is a natural feeling. The timing of it probably done the most damage.

But what's the point of holding a grudge? In hindsight, a decision was made for the better of the organization. I understand that. I am an university educated man. I am fully capable of understanding.

I learned something from that life experience. Life is truly too short to hold grudges or be mad with someone or something.

I am not a religious man, but somewhere in the Bible, forgiveness is mention. I believe Jesus forgives the disciple that betrayed him. The disciple that lead Jesus to his death. That is not an exact quote.

There are even stories when a victim's family of a murder forgives the murderer.

Why hold on to the negativity that comes with anger or madness or jealousy? What positive effect does that have on your life?

For most, well, all of my life until the last year, I had no need or no understanding of the word forgive. The antipathy I had towards others didn't fill a hole inside of me. It added to the darkness that was already within that I was living with. So, one day I asked myself a question. Well, two.

"Why be bitter or resentful with someone? Is it worth it in the end?"

It is unneeded in my life. Truthfully, it is unneeded in everyone's life. How can one find happiness if they hang on to some hostility or hatred? You can't. You might not agree with someone or have a difference of opinion, but instead of arguing or fighting, you can respect each other's opinion/point of view and leave it at that. It is like politics. Not to get too deep in the government, but instead of opposing each other or trying to find destructive facts about the opposition, why can't we work together as one whole entity to find a solution? Maybe I am foolish.

As an alternative, people should stop looking for the bad in others and start looking for the good. Look for the good in others, but also in yourself. The latter is the hardest for me.

I am not suggesting to forget. If you forget, you may make the same mistake again. Only fools do that. Forget? Maybe not. Forgive? Absolutely. I don't expect me to say, "I forgive you. No one has done me wrong, in my opinion" But I do seek it from forgiveness from a lot of people.

None of it is possible unless you can understand and begin to use forgiveness in your life. It may not make you the perfect person, but it will make you a better person. It is the strength of a being that can find the courage to forgive their enemy. I do not have any enemies.

Dictionary.com says 'gratitude' is the quality or feeling of being grateful or thankful.'

How many times do I say 'thank you' per day?

More than ever before.

I do not take anything for granted. I feel the need to express my gratitude, even if it is for the littlest things. I might try that tomorrow. That is, count how many times I say the words or express my thankfulness.

A huge part of my recovery has been to realize how many things, people, etc. I have in my life to be grateful for. That list has a beginning, but I do not have an ending yet. I do not think I ever will. To combat depression, there has to be a lot of changes in my life. It is not an overnight fix. A few prescribed pills don't change it all for me. My ECT treatments don't cure me completely. Serious changes in my life is what I credit most of my recovery to. I had loads of help and support along the way, but at the end of the day, T.J. Smith decided to make a commitment to getting better.

He's the guy that refused to turn the key and start the ignition to kill himself just over a year ago. He's the guy the decided to go to the hospital, risking his livelihood and everything else in his life. He's the guy that chose to speak-out about his illness to raise awareness and to let others know, yeah, I have a problem, but I am going to fight it. He's the guy that realizes he needs to change his morals and values.

I was never grateful for anything. I remember my mother saying that to me as a kid. I didn't understand nor care when she said that. This is how fucking lost I was; I was the Valedictorian of my high school class and in the last year, I had to look up the meaning to the word 'gratitude', along with many other words. That's saddening.

Thankfully, I earned a second chance. It may have taken me 30 years to understand the definition of the word, but better late than never. Or better late than being dead. Learning to be grateful has been life-changing but more importantly, life-improving. That's all I can ask for, to better myself each day in a positive way. Learning to be grateful and to express my gratitude has made me a better person.

"Help" is not a word I think I need to look up.

First off, asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of courage and faith. You think I enjoyed calling my parents at 3:00 a.m. three weeks ago crying as I drove the Trans-Canada highway telling them between gasp for air that I have an addiction and I cannot stop? That I don't know what to do? That I have let them down? That I am a terrible father and I am better off dead?

That's not easy to do.

I hit my breaking point, much like last year when I admitted myself to a Psychiatric Unit. Asking for help, at the time, seemed like the most challenging thing in life. Sometimes it is hard to do, but it should never be that way.

Perception of the word makes us look vulnerable. Society, whatever that is, makes us believe we should do everything on our own. That's false advertising. Society doesn't know what is best for me. That's up to me.

I say this with no shame and do not care about judgement, but I need help. Without help, my friends and family would be remembering the date of my death this winter. Instead, I demonstrated that asking for help to save my life is a true testament of my inner strength. As individuals, we somehow feel compel to tackle our problems by ourselves. Maybe it is just me, but somewhere along the line, I forgot to ask for help on a consistent basis.

In my battle and continuous recovery, I have understand how important it is for me to help others. It's like a chain letter. Someone helps me. I, in turn help someone else. They may help someone else. That's what it is like to be a good person. Truly, I have no idea how many people I have helped by advocating for mental health.

It is almost a year to the day that I publicly spoke about having an illness. I am grateful that I did it. Not only was it necessary for me to do it for my health, but the impact it has had on others is astounding. I have a gift. It's the gift to help others and help them see the light in themselves. I do it naturally now. I was at a workout class yesterday, and I caught myself trying to encourage my friend as we were working out in the class together. I hope my gift is contagious.

I never used to put people before me, ever. I was a selfish. I was consumed with the what was wrong with me and silently fighting it. It was a defense mechanism. A terrible coping strategy.

That has all changed in the last year. I am learning new ways to live a better, happier life. My advice is meant to inspire others to keep battling. Whatever you may be going through, I am telling you, you're not a alone. Life is a gift. Don't waste it on fighting something that is conquerable by yourself.

Life is great. There will be awful moments. It will test your strength. You must never lose hope. Being a fighter is inspiring. 

Love.

No need to hold the hate in. Forgiveness releases that negative feeling. Be grateful for everything in your life, no matter how small or big. Also, express your gratitude to others, it will better theirs and your lives. Lastly, never ever be ashamed to ask for help. Someone will always be there to lend a hand. reach out and take it. It will change and improve your life. Trust me.

I guess I know what the next three words are going to be tattooed onto my body.

"It's one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, to forgive. Forgive everybody."
                                                              -Maya Angelou

"Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings."
                                                              -William Arthur Ward

"Heroes represent the best of ourselves, respecting that we are human beings. A hero can be anyone from Gandhi to your classroom teacher, anyone who can show courage when faced with a problem. A hero is someone who is willing to help others in his or her best capacity."
                                                              - Ricky Martin

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith