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