My battle with mental illness- By Jonah

I don’t know who I’m writing this for but these are some things I have to say. I don’t know who will read this. If anyone ever.

My name is Jonah. I’m 19 years old. I’ve had a pretty rough life. Not rough as some, but I’ve been through more than any child ever should have. At age 14, I was diagnosed with depression and PTSD. At age 17, I was told my depression had grown even more severe. I was recommended medication. But I denied for fear of addiction and never actually being happy again.

So, here’s my struggle with mental illness.

I was born in Ottawa, Ontario.

I lived there until my dad left my mother at age 3.

She then decided to move back to her home province of Newfoundland. This is where I would make my first friend that I can recall, Jacob, at age 5. He is still my friend to this day, and we’ve been through many hardships and rough experiences together.

A lot goes on in my head throughout the day. I had the first suicidal thought at age 12. My mom had been with a severely emotional and physically abusive man since I was 5 at this time. He would hit her, he would hit me, and he would hit my older brother Cameron.

When he was finally arrested for assault on Father’s Day 2013 when I was just finishing Grade 7, I never felt relieved. And this is where PTSD really first started to kick in for me. I would have these wild thoughts all the time. My emotions would fluctuate a lot and I had no control. A lot of times I ate to deal with it, and that seemed to help. But not for long.

I contemplated and planned my first suicide attempt December of my grade 8 school year. And again, before my birthday of that same year. I even had the note written, which I had kept for many months after when I couldn’t carry out my attempt. But instead I curled up and cried on the floor, because I knew I would hurt my mom, my brother and my dad. But I was hurting and I wanted it to go away. I just wanted to be free.

After I finished grade 8, I decided maybe I should start fresh, and go live with my dad back in Ontario. Thinking that would help.

One thing I should bring up, is by this time I had been diagnosed with concussions twice. Which, increased my risk with depression.

School started normally at my dad’s. I thought I was doing better, my hockey skills advanced, I had lots of fun. I made new friends. I felt good. Then I had my first what I will consider the biggest blow of my life, I’m not exactly sure how or when I found out, but I found out that the only aunt I had was diagnosed with breast cancer again. It just kept coming back. I had a lot of trouble processing this. And I didn’t feel like anyone could be there. My dad, he tried, but it was his sister in law too, so it hurt him.

My depression got worse now, I missed Jacob and I missed my family in Newfoundland.

This brings up the 2nd plan for suicide. One morning, my dad worked early and his wife was gone as well. I was supposed to get myself up for school. And I did.

I got myself up and put the finishing touches on each individual note I had made for my dad, my mom, and my brother Cameron. The usual stuff, that this wasn’t their fault. That this wasn’t because of them but because of the pain I was in. The fact that I wanted to be free. I didn’t want to feel like a burden anymore. I put them on my bed. I got a knife and I got in the shower. I let it run. For a while. I missed the bus. And as I was in the shower getting ready to press the knife to my skin, my phone rang. It was my dad texting me. I got out and answered. He wondered if I made the bus. I replied that I didn’t. After a while he said his wife would bring me to school, but they wouldn’t be excusing me for being late. Which meant I had to serve detention.

If they had only known the reason. If only my dad had known what he stopped.

I took the letters and shoved them on top of my closet before I left.

The next few months would be normal. I would cry myself to sleep most nights. I was hurt and I would never tell anyone why. I was seeing a psychiatrist but it didn’t seem to help.

Then in February, I got hit from behind in a high school hockey game and had to be transported to CHEO, the children’s hospital in Ottawa. I had gotten a serious concussion and this is where the dark started again.

I stared having suicidal thoughts almost every day now. I just wanted it all to go away. 

I decided that I would end it for real this time. After my 15th birthday.

I spent a lot of time playing video games. Trying to take my mind off it. I prepared the notes again. I even wrote an extra one for my dad’s wife. Thanking her for the help she tried to give me with my struggle. Telling her to make sure that Gabrielle and Daniel (her and my dad’s children) don’t know what happened to me. That I’m just going away for a while.

I had a lot of prescription medications. A less painful way I thought. And one day I was home alone. I left the notes on the couch downstairs. I went into my room.

I closed the door, and I opened all the pills. I had a big glass of water, and I was crying, I was crying a lot. I told myself this was it. This was how I could finally be away from the hurt. I didn’t understand why I was hurting so much. But I knew I wanted it to go away.

I put the pills in my mouth, I picked up the water, I went to drink, and I heard the front door open, and the sound of Daniel’s little footsteps running across the living room hardwood upstairs. I spit the pills into the glass, I ran and grabbed the notes from the couch, into the closet they went. The water and pills went in the toilet and I flushed them. I came out just as Daniel came downstairs. If only my 2-year-old brother knew that he saved my life. And maybe one day, he will. But right now, he’s 7. So, he shouldn’t.

I decided that summer I should move back with my mom. My dad still doesn’t know the true reason why.

My mom drove up that summer with her new boyfriend Ramsey, his son Tayler and my brother Cameron. I was so happy to see them. I hated to say goodbye. Especially because my dad and his wife and children were completely oblivious as to the reason why.

I moved home, and life went well for the first year and a bit. I didn’t have any thoughts, I spent a lot of time with Jacob and our new friend Kodi, I played hockey and soccer and life was okay. But in January 2015, I got the worst news of my life. My aunt Chantal had passed away from her cancer. I knew now that she would finally be at peace. But I still couldn’t handle it. She was my only aunt. She was so loving. So caring. She didn’t deserve it and I couldn’t understand why she was taken from my family. I missed her so much and I miss her still just as much to this day and I now have a tattoo dedicated to her on my left arm. I went into a very bad state after her funeral. I couldn’t focus in school. I couldn’t focus at hockey. I couldn’t sleep. And when I slept I never wanted to get up. I didn’t know how to cope with it. And nobody was there for me.

Flash forward to me in my sophomore year of high school I met E. And that was the first time I fell in love. She is a beautiful red head, with gorgeous blue eyes. I really loved her. But our relationship was extremely rough, due to my mental state, which never really improved at all. I did so many things that I regret, but I cannot change. And one time when we broke up, I really thought that was it for me. I went for a walk to clear my head I told my mom. But I had a note prepared. I went to the Nicholsville bridge and I planned to drown myself. But I got to the top.

I sat there, and thought could I really do this to myself. Could I really hurt mom? could I really hurt Cameron?

Could I really hurt E? Could I really do that to my family?  And so, I climbed down, and that’s where Jacob’s ex-girlfriend had found me. I told her everything, and she talked me down and brought me to my mom and told her everything. My mom got me help.

I started to see a counsellor. Me and E got back together and I started to improve, even though my counsellor told me I had severe depression and recommended I start taking prescription pills but I declined in fear of addiction. And I stopped going to see her after. Me and E continued our relationship for a while after, but it started to get rough again, and I slowly found myself falling out of love with her, after I met a girl named K. We started to spend time together. She is a real sweet girl. So beautiful. Made me happier then I had ever been. She was close to God too and I figured that may be some help to me. So, when there was an easy way out with E. I took it. I fell quickly for K, she was shy, and she was different then E who I was used to after 2 years. But I quickly adapted to K, and now I believe she is the love of my life. She taught me so much about faith and Christianity. I started to talk to God. I started to seek help. And I was happy for a while. I didn’t have any dark thoughts for about 5 months while me and K were together. In the blink of an eye we hit a rough patch and broke up. I was heartbroken.

A few weeks later I made some bad decisions and I really hurt K. In a way I will never forgive myself for. And I wouldn’t ever expect her to forgive me for. I’m in love with K and I always will be. Even though I started some shenanigan with a girl named M, who I thought I hoped would help me be happy again and help me forget what happened with K. But every day we spent together. I still thought about her. All the time. I couldn’t stop. I missed her so much. But I didn’t know how to tell her after what I did.

The dark thoughts came again. I started to cry myself to sleep. But then I started spending the nights with M and I had to hold it in. Because I couldn’t cry about K with this girl who adores me lying next to me. But I missed K so much.

And now I’ll cut to today. August 12th 2018. Well August 13th while I’m writing this. I’ve been having suicidal thoughts again for about a week now. Progressively worse every day. Nightmares every night.

Sleeping poorly. In the news the other day, a man who has the same occupation as me (Ramp Attendant at an airport) killed himself in the US. And that hit me very hard. My thoughts increased after that. I leave my house a lot and my family always wonder where I’m going. Usually I say coffee with a friend or something but half the time it’s to go somewhere and be alone with my thoughts. Which probably isn’t the best idea. But I have no other way to cope. I listen to music and I think about everything. I think about the pain. I think of ways to try and numb it. I think about ending it, but then I think about the pain that will bring everyone around me. As I’m writing this tonight, it’s because I thought I was going to kill myself again tonight. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I won’t let this illness consume me anymore. From the moment I wake up tomorrow, I will be focused on bettering my mental health. I’m going to reach out to some advocates and see if I could share my story with others. In hopes that I can teach others that it isn’t worth it.

People care about you.

People will miss you.

No matter how hard it gets always remember that ending it doesn’t make it better. You are not alone. I know I’m not alone. There are lots of people around me. I hope that after writing this, I won’t ever have another suicidal thought. But I’m sure I will find myself writing again if I do.

I’m hurting. But I will get better.

And that’s the end.

"Strength and growth come only through continuous effort and strength."
                                                                       - Napoleon Hill

Life Changing Encounter- March 2018

My next move will be a big change in my life. I do not know when that will happen. I do not have a timeline. There is no pressure to make an ill-fated and quick decision. I am open to the possibilities. I am optimistic about the future. It does not scare me anymore.

I am writing in good spirits tonight. I many have swallowed some anxiety pills, so I am somewhat mellowed out. I am calm and I am clear.

I almost killed myself once. It was a dark time for me. It was at that point in my life where I felt there was nothing left for me in this world. It was something I really believed.

Fast forward to the present. There has been a lot of work done by me and others to keep me above ground. A lot of sacrifices made by my family. A lot of support given by friends and strangers. Recently, something amazing has happened to me. The thought of it makes me smile still.

I met someone. No, not romantically, but met someone. At first glance, I could tell that this person was different and special. Something about this person made me excited and definitely not nervous. It was pure emotion and feelings from me. It was something extremely real to me. Something I don't know much of. Something I may have never felt before.

It was something good. Maybe, even great.

I couldn't stop listening to this person. Everything that was said meant more than words to me. It also meant something to that person. It was genuine. I may never see this person again, but for a few hours, everything felt real and meaningful.

When I present to people about my life journey, I talk about hope and finding meaning in life as a part of my recovery. My recent experience was one of those moments.

I never anticipated it, or even saw it coming. Maybe the greatest things in life are never anticipated. It was unreal. I told this person how I felt. I couldn't keep it in. I expressed to this person how meeting them made me feel.

This person made me smile like I never had before. It was also the first time in a long time I smiled from positive emotion. May people surrounded us, but I only saw one person. I heard only one person. I truly felt connected to another individual. That night never had enough hours, as I did not want the night to end.

Irony time.

There have been so many nights in my life I wished were over quickly, Many nights I wished I was dead. The pain was almost unbearable. So many painful nights.

This night was the opposite. The pain of all those nights combined couldn't compare or take away the pure happiness I experienced recently. Actually, I am glad that I did endure the bad times for that one night. Honestly, it was amazing and magical for me.

I've suffered for so long and so much. This person took away all my pain instantly. Nothing else and no one else mattered. This person brought me outside of my comfort zone and made me feel safe out there. This person challenged me and made me a better person, even if it was for a few hours.

Nothing sexually took place. There wasn't even a simple kiss or first kiss, in this case. There may never be a first kiss. And that is OK. This person made me feel, even if it was for a few hours.

This person reminded me why I continue to fight for my life each and every day. This person made me feel like I do have a purpose and I was worthy of life. This person reassured me that my life was necessary. This person inspired me and gave me more hope. For that, I sincerely thank you. You have no idea what kind of influence you had over me. You will never understand how much joy and pleasure you brought me by just talking to me. You made me a better person in a few short hours. You are special to me. I will never forget you. I do hope our paths cross again. You changed me and you did it by just being yourself.

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone."
                                       - Neale Donald Walsch

Forever Grateful,

T.J. Smith

The Comeback and Second Chance- January 2018

It’s one of the few regrets I have as a person. I can’t remember the exact year, maybe it was 2011. I was playing Senior Hockey with the Deer Lake Red Wings. We are in the league finals against the team from Grand Falls.

I cannot recall the series at this point. It is irrelevant. What I do remember is going out the night before one of the games in the finals. I went out with my friends from my hometown. It was in the midst of, “I am young and invincible and arrogant and I am going to do whatever I want regardless of the consequences” stage of my life.

I played drunk or hungover many times during my first stint in Newfoundland and Labrador Senior Hockey. “Guilty” is what the older players called it. I also remember another quote from a player I highly respect, still to this day. He told us the following, “Do not be Superman at night if you cannot be Clark Kent in the day.” That quote has always stuck with me.

‘Playing Guilty’ is the terminology that was used to describe what I was doing. I was being flown in from Halifax each weekend, which cost about $400, plus getting $200-250 per game. So, all said and done, the team was investing approximately $1000 in me per weekend. How did I repay them? Play sober the first game of the weekend, then play hungover, or still drunk for the second game of the weekend. I thought I was living a Rockstar lifestyle. It was all about me and I didn’t think about others.

So why am I describing this? Because something has been on my mind since 2011 and I never made amends with it. I am ashamed in what I done and even more that I never apologize to my teammates, coaches, organization, or fans.

Back to the playoff game against Grand Falls. It was the first intermission. I was sitting in the dressing room fighting the booze that was still in my body. My play in the first period indicated I was still fucked. Then, from the second dressing room, I heard a voice of anger. It was a voice of a man that I highly respected and a guy that was a leader on the team. He has been around and was a great player. He yelled something so the whole team could hear what he was saying.

It was directed at me. I was so scared, I cannot remember exactly what he said but he was sending a message to me. I was terrified. What he said had something to do with out drinking the night before and staying up all night. Since I was the only person on the team that went out, logic told me this was aimed at me, and rightfully so.

I got the message. It’s the only regret I remember to have to this day. That happened 7 or 8 years ago. I have been sorry ever since.

That may have been the last or one of the last games of competitive hockey I played.

Now, I am presented with a second chance. Personally, for me, a shot at redemption, even if it is in my own mind. I am now 31 years old. The same team has asked me to play again. 

Though, this time is different.

First, I am older and much wiser. My time as a coach has given me a new perspective on how to be a professional. I now know what is required to be a leader and a winner.

Secondly, I don’t drink anymore. Boy, did I ever get caught up in the life of a Senior Hockey player in Newfoundland. There would be two games per weekend. As I said earlier, I would play game one sober. Game two, which was usually Sunday’s, I was hungover or still intoxicated. Looking back now, I was an embarrassment. I was also disrespectful to the teams that invested time, energy, and money into me.

How bad was I? Here is an example.

Sunday was usually fly day, or early Monday mornings. On more than one occasion, I would drink all day Sunday after our last game. Somehow, I was allowed on the plane. I assume I kept it together long enough to get through security. Here was the issue; I would wake up in Halifax in my own bed not remembering how the hell I got there. I would completely black myself out by drinking. It was surreal, almost like something you would see in the movies. I was truly a mess.

It was a way for me to get away from my problems. It was a silent cry for help. That was 2010 or 2011. I was one of the younger players on the team. I couldn’t tell anyone I was troubled. Who would have helped? Where would I get the help? I had to be ‘tough’. I am a Senior Hockey player. I need to prove my manliness and cannot be soft. So, playing hockey and drinking like a fish was my delusional way of proving I was ‘tough’. That I was a man’s man.

This is a story of self-realization of what I was and of growth. It is a story of mistakes and accepting those mistakes. I share this life experience to aide others not to make the same mistakes I did.

If I was still a kid, I wouldn’t admit to this and believe it to be something I could sweep under the rug. Worst thing about sweeping things under the rug is, sooner or later, the rug has to be pulled up, and whatever you put under there will still be there. You have to decide to leave the mess there, or option two, clean it up. It is easier to leave the mess, but just because it is easier doesn’t make it right. I learnt this by hiding my depression for many years.

This is a time appropriate Blog post because we are in the finals starting this weekend. It is also weight off of my mind. A fixture of my therapy and recovery is being true to myself and honest about what is real and what is not. Psychotherapy helps me focus on my strengths. Acceptance is huge for me. Gratitude is another value that helps with me better my mental health. I am forever grateful that I have a second opportunity to play competitive hockey at my age. Someday, someone is going to tell me I cannot play anymore. I am loving this challenge. It is pushing me to be better as a person, athlete, and teammate. I wish Nash could see me play. He has only seen daddy behind the bench coaching.

I believe in a phrase that I have come up with recently; “Embrace Struggle”.

Accepting what is going on in my life has me trying to find ways to be better. I am doing my best at being my best. And if that is not good enough for others, I do not care. It’s great for me. But it does not come easy. It is a challenge, but more so, a struggle. Somethings are out of my control. I am OK with that. That being said, I am embracing this struggle.

I am a warrior and survivor of a mental illness. On any day, at any time, I could end it. I am doing my best to not let that happen. By deciding to live, I have been given a second chance at playing the sport I love. Honestly, it is the only I thing I know. I am embracing this opportunity and it has reinvigorate my passion for the game. I hope to pass that passion and desire onto the younger players on the team.

Purpose of this Blog?

It is twofold.

11.  To apologize.

22. To demonstrate by fighting my illness and living, opportunities will come your way. I rely on the word ‘Hope” every day. I do not know what will come my way each and every day. But hope allows me to handle anything that comes my way. I feel strong. I want to be a symbol or example to others struggling with mental illness that by fighting it, by being a warrior, things do and will get better. I almost came face to face with my maker. I decided to fight and live.

It is not death that I fear. I fear that I will not live the life that has been given to me every day.

“Like everyone else in this world, I have had struggles. There's disappointment and obstacles in everybody's life. I feel like I was writing 'Second Chance' not just for myself, but also for the people who have struggled.”

                                  -       El DeBarge

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith