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