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
