Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)- January 10, 2017

The Devil looked me in the eye the other day and I looked right back at him.

He flinched. I didn't.

"I am not afraid of you anymore," I said.

I told him I have seen everything he has to offer. Once upon a time, I was interested in what he had to say. Tempting as the Devil may be to get me to kill myself, I resisted. But, I didn't on my own.

I speak openly about suicide. Somedays I feel I have it beaten. Other days, I cannot get the self-murdering thoughts under control. It is a battle. Don't let it fool you. It has me fooled.

This is a topic we need to talk about more. Hard for anyone to know if you have suicidal thoughts if you do not speak of them. We (Canadians from all over), need to create an environment where it is OK to speak freely about suicide and not be judge. Not just to doctors, nurses, or counsellors, but to everyone.

"Hey mom, I have suicidal thoughts," should be a phrase someone can say and not be judged as a crazy person.

Just because you have suicidal thoughts doesn't mean your crazy. Take it from me.

Tell your friend.

"Hey bestie, I think about suicide a lot. What can I do?"

They may not have the answer because they never been hit with such an honest and true question that has major consequences.

They may not know where to get help because, much like the general population, they do not know the answer. That is why we need to talk more about suicide and take it serious.

I have chronic suicidal ideas. Will I ever act upon one of them? I hope not. That is why I speak about it. It is hard to speak of things that scare us the most. It is also hard to speak of things we do not understand. If you never had suicidal visions, you cannot begin to comprehend or believe what I think of when it comes to the topic.

You may have walked by me, or talked to me on the same day where I thought about hanging myself over an overpass on the highway. Does that make me crazy? Who are you to judge?

I have seen a quote. Treat everyone with kindness, because you have no idea what they are going through.

I am trying this daily.

So, what does this have to do with the title of this Blog?

I have slept for 24 hours. Prior to that, I was awake for 40 hours. This is what happened, well what I did.

I left a friends house in Halifax after supper late Sunday night. As I drove back to East Hants, I fought with the urge to gamble. I tried calling a help line. It didn't work. I didn't call my parents. I didn't call anyone. Consequently, I gave in to the urge.

But prior to the urge to gamble, I had the feeling of worthlessness and didn't like it. Thoughts of suicide crossed my mind. I knew I was in for a long night, regardless of what I would do. I had planned of going to the hospital, but before that, I had to try to make myself feel good. That is when I went to gamble.

As stated before, I have an addiction. It is bad. I would go to the ABM, say to myself out loud, "T.J., you know this is not right."

A different voice inside of me would say, "Who cares? Better than suicide thoughts."

What a way to cope. I know I am doing something wrong, but I cannot stop. I didn't look up the definition of 'addiction', but I am assuming that is very close to what I would find.

So, after 6-7 hours of straight gambling, I ran out of money. The next step was the hospital. Again, I already planned on going. I was already convinced by being by myself, I wasn't safe. I was right.

At 6:00 a.m., I admitted myself to outpatients in Truro. I was hoping to be admitted to the Psych Unit.

After an 8 hour wait to see someone that wanted to talk to me regarding my mental illness, I was hoping to be put under the watchful eye of professionals. I wasn't.

At first, this bothered me. But after talking to someone from the Mental Health Crisis team and another Psychiatrist, I learned something new about myself. I didn't think it was possible to add to my problems.

I was wrong.

Borderline Personality Disorder, AKA (BPD) is a serious mental disorder marked by a pattern of ongoing instability in moods, behaviour, self-imaging, and functioning, according to the website for National Institute of Mental Health. (https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/borderline-personality-disorder/index.shtml)

This is new to me. Well, new to my knowledge of it.

My gambling is impulsive. The way I view myself is negative. The chronic suicide thoughts are real. The feelings of emptiness are always at me. I have a few of the symptoms.

Almost a year to the exact date of being diagnosed with severe/major Depression, a Mental Health Professional tells me I may have BPD.

Who am I to disagree?

She asked the questions. I gave her the answers. She made a decision/diagnosis on the information.

She made a great point that I never thought of before.

She asked if I drink alcohol or abuse any drugs. I said no, I never used drugs and I quit drinking in April.

She then asked if my gambling increased around that date? I replied, "Maybe".

She said since I used binge drinking to cope before, after I stopped drinking I needed something to take its place to cope. Enter, the excessive gambling.

I guess that's why she is a doctor and I am not. Smart lady.

I needed a replacement for the alcohol. She pointed out that the gambling was now the main way for me to cope. The impulsive behaviour with gambling fits me perfectly.

Finding out that I have a disorder could have been stressful for me. It wasn't. Honestly, it made more sense to me why I am what I am or do the things that I do.

I am finding out more about myself. That is critical for me going forward in life. It is critical for my Mental Health.

I put on a disappearing act the last 36 hours, and I apologize for that. Not many, if any, knew where I was.

I didn't want to be found. That is selfish and I know that. Lucky for me, I have great friends and parents. I am grateful to have you people in my life. I may not express it well, but it means so much to me to know that you're there for me.

Finding out something new can be devastating for me, even when it is negative. But how I perceive it is, that it is important information that I need to continue to fight. It is easier to to battle your enemies if you know more about them. It's what I tell my hockey players when I do a video session. Whether it is positive or negative, this gives us information about the opponent. Understanding them will only make us better as a result. I want to inspire the uninspired.

But, as I have found out this past year, nothing for me will be easy.

This new information is hard.

But I am harder. I am stronger. Fighting is what I do, so I will fight this too.

"Every negative- pressure, challenges- is all an opportunity for me to rise."
                                                    - Kobe Bryant

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

I have an Addiction- January 3, 2017

It must be something with the start of the years. The last two beginnings of a new year have been absolute terror to me. Just the worse.

On December 30, 2016, I lie awake on bed at my parents place in Newfoundland. I hear my mother or father walking towards the room. My mother enters. She ask how I am.

"Not good. I am thinking of ways to kill myself," I reply.

Not what a parent wants to hear at all.

I thought 2016 was over.

So close. Just one day away.

Then the thoughts hit me hard. How hard? Unexplainable. But I am going to tell you my thoughts and feelings.

This illness is continuing to keep me grounded. Any time I feel like I am rising against it, the Depression brings me back to Earth, and even sometimes, down to hell. I am learning new things about it. I thought I had a good grasp on it, whether it was bad or good.

I was suppose to be crossing to Nova Scotia tonight. That would be an easy way to kill myself. No evidence left behind. No need to worry anymore. I could leave a few suicide notes for people, just to tell them where I am gone. To a better place, maybe. The way I feel tonight, hell would be a step up for me.

Then again, I am in my own hell. A self-developed hell that has unknown origins. The demons are my children. My offspring. Opposed to a flower, they only need darkness to grow. They have plenty of that tonight, at this very moment.

All I can see is death and how life would be better off with me gone. I know it is lying to me, I just can't buy into it tonight. I cannot see the truth in life tonight. There are constant reminders all around me that tell me life is worth living. I know this to be true, but believe it is bullshit on this evening. I don't know what could or can change my mind. Tonight, I am stubborn. Tonight, I am losing my battle. Tonight, I am closer to quitting than ever before, or at least in a long time. Tonight, has been the worse in quite some time....

...It's a night later. I feel better. I have a lingering thought. It is motivated by the location I am currently at. Probably a good thing that if these words are being read, that I am alive.

Here's the troubling thought. Ready for it T.J.? I have played it over and over in my head.

In about 2-3 hours, the boat I am on will be somewhere on the ocean between Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. I have been on record saying that if I am going to kill myself, no one would find my body. What an opportunity I have.

It's easy enough. My sister and her boyfriend are upstairs in the quiet area. That place is not for me. I don't even know what quiet is.

I can write my goodbye letters. I have lots of ink, paper, time, and thoughts.

Scary?

If it is scary for you, you cannot even begin to imagine how frightening it is for me. It is like having an empty net in hockey. No one is around me. I have the puck. I can finish the game off. I can 'put the nail in the coffin.' I have all the resources to end it. Game over.

It's the perfect setup for me. All the ducks are in a perfect row.

I am scared. Scared for my life. What if I have some serious suicidal thoughts? I can't imagine that the mental health/illness services on Marine Atlantic are any good. Heck, on land they are 'OK', at best.

What is even worse, I can envision the death. Once I jump and hit the icy cold waters, it will be done. All over. Finally.

I even know how it would be afterwards. I would be awaiting in the afterlife for people I know. Unlike me, they will live out their lives.

How fitting would it be to end my story by not even making it to 2017, and finally giving in to the year that truly has killed me.

It would almost be righteous and poetic.

It's a haunting thought that is reoccurring. No one would even yell 'man overboard' because no one will see it. I wonder if the propellers would chew me up and spit me out?

I am not crazy. These are thoughts that I have to fight with. I try to prolong them as much as possible.

I remember a man this past summer jumping off the ferry during one of the crossings. Imagine the last few thoughts that went through his mind as gravity made him splash into the water? Can you imagine his final thoughts?

I can.

I won't say I know exactly what that person was thinking, but I am willing to bet I can make somewhat of an accurate guess.

The boat is beginning to move. So shall I.

January 3, 2017...

I look at the clock in my car. It says 2:25 am I think. I can't recall perfectly. The tears in my eyes make it difficult to see.

I had a breakdown.

I gave in. I relapsed. I couldn't handle it anymore.

At 2:25 am, I had to call my parents with my eyes watering. It took two calls to reach them, but they answered, as I knew they would. Full of anticipation and fear, they asked a simple question.

"T.J., what's wrong?"

I tried to fight the crying, but couldn't. I mustered up a reply.

"Mom and dad, I am gambling again and I cannot quit. I am sorry."

I couldn't handle the deception anymore. I had to tell the truth. It took everything in me. So does this next sentence.

I am an addict.

I am addicted to VLTs. How do I know? Last night I played up to $400. I lost it all without cashing a ticket. I stopped and whispered to myself.

"T.J., you're fucked."

I feel like such a let down and piece of shit. It is so hard to explain in words. I crumbled. I feel weak and vulnerable. I couldn't see the highway because of the tears. My parents talked me into pulling over on to the side of the road,

I am ashamed and a disappointment. I let people down.

I let myself down.

It was hard to open up about my Depression. Telling my parents that I was gambling again was second hardest. I lost it and had no one else to turn to. I feel so bad.

I don't even know what day it is.

The gambling sugarcoats the Depression. It does not necessarily help it, but hides and suppresses it.

I thought I was doing so well. I was lying to myself and everyone again.

Like a coward. I am a coward.

It's a quiet madness that becomes so deafening to me. Twisted inside my mind, I can make sense of it all. No would else could or would understand. it's a sickness on top of a sickness. It's an addiction. I cannot control it anymore. It controls me.

This is when thoughts of being dead makes perfect sense to me. Not to most, but to me. No longer a burden to anyone.

So many lies. I don't want to lie anymore. It eats away at me. I lied for years. I put a mask on my entire life. I was going back to those ways again. And I was lying to my parents to make maters worse. The people that stand by me since I was born. Stayed at my side during my hardest moments in life. They have supported me, and I have let them down in my eyes. I can't see it any other way.

I have let my sister down. My friends. My son. Everyone and anyone. It feels like...I have no answer for that.

I owe people money because I gamble. I don't even have a job. What the fuck am I doing with myself?

It brings me to tears how awful I feel. There are some things I can't even talk about because they may be too bad.

Fuck it. I have to speak about it.

I haven't committed robbery or anything like that. I would do  'somewhat' illegal things to get money. Not illegal like selling drugs or anything like that.

I am a university graduate. I am a high school graduate. I am smart, when I want to be. I know the difference between right and wrong.

I want to keep my integrity in check. If I don't have my integrity, I feel I don't have anything. That's why I am coming clean. I may not be a great person or whatever because of my illness and addiction, but I am accountable for my actions, whether they be good or bad.

T.J. Smith knows the difference between right and wrong.

T.J. Smith's gambling addiction does not know the difference between right and wrong.

The addiction has caused many problems for me. All I want is for me to stop. I don't want to do it anymore. I just want to stop. But I can't.

Why do I feel like a let down?

Because people that trusted me will probably never again. I ask to borrow money, and I gambled it. Not to feed myself. Not to shelter myself. Not for anything other than gambling. Why would anyone trust me again? Do I even deserve a second chance? Feels like my whole life is coming undone.

I feel terrible because I have lied to people. I deceived them. I wouldn't be surprised if I lost friends because of this.

I need help. Step one. Admitting it.

Step two? I don't know.

But I am going to try and win. I am going to repay everyone and everything I owe. I can do that. It will not be today or tomorrow, but that day will come. I will correct my wrongdoings. I will. I am asking for forgiveness. Is it the cowardly way yo do it behind text? Probably. But for me, it is a start.

I am truly sorry to everyone. I am not a bad guy, I just made some bad choices. I will get the necessary help. That I promise.

AT this moment. all I know is my name is T.J. Smith and I have a Gambling Addiction.

"Do not be embarrassed by your failures, learn from them and start again."
                                               - Richard Branson

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Christmas Eve 2016

It is somewhat a surprise that I actually survived the last year. It’s exactly a year ago when everything came unravelled in what I thought was my life. It was the beginning of the end which turned out to be the creation of my revolution. You have to hit the lowest of the lows to really know what you’re capable of as a human being.

I though my world was crashing down on me. It started slow, like a first time rider on a roller-coaster. The anticipation of the climb to the top of the incline, I knew something was coming- but wasn’t sure what or how it was going to affect me.

You cannot prepare for it. It is impossible. You can try. Put in an effort, but still doesn’t prep you for the darkest holes we can reach. Sorry, reach is the wrong word. Reach is something you gain, like reaching the mountain top. You dig holes. That’s what I did. I dug a fucking huge hole. In that hole, there was no one but me and it was dark. Very dark. Light did not, and could not exist.

It is hard to explain without me sounding responsible. I 100% blame myself for what happened in my life. I am affected/was influenced by an illness that I have to fight each day. I am accountable for not getting help earlier in my life. Probably, as far back as my late teens. That is something I cannot control nor dwell upon. Rather, something I must accept and motivate others who suffer in silence to get the help. Breaking my silence was one of the most difficult, if not, the most difficult decisions of my life.

I have accepted that I was a bad partner. I have accepted that I disappointed my family. I have accepted that I was not the best friend possible. I have accepted that I may have wasted many years of my life by not getting help.

I cannot make up for the lost time. I cannot rectify mistakes I may have made. I cannot apologize enough to the people in my life that I may have been mean or disrespectful to. I will never be able to pay back people that have stood by me to ensure my safety. It’s humbling.

I thank you all.

Last Christmas was blurry. I remember only some parts- the bad parts. The holidays can trigger a lot of emotions, feelings, and thoughts. That’s why I came home to Newfoundland for Christmas. Yeah, it was very difficult being away from my son during the holidays, but I also felt it was very important for me to do what I thought and felt was best for my health, so I could be around for my son’s Christmas next year.

I still cry when I think of last year. I never cried so much as I did during the holidays of 2015. To the point where I couldn’t breathe. I had enough. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I couldn’t contain it. It was a complete mental and emotional breakdown. Ten years or so of negative feelings and thoughts came out of me through the tears in my eyes. To be honest, I needed that to happen or I wouldn’t be here today.

I still remember the first day of 2016. I was parked at the gas station near Halifax Airport. I was picking up one of my players. I found out earlier that day, my ex had moved on. That led to me believing I wouldn’t see my son again. It led to a lot of negative thinking. In hindsight, it was an opening for me to finally reach for help. I cried and cried on the phone. The tears slithered down my face like a snake. I didn’t know it was conceivable that someone could excrete so much liquid through their eyes. I thought I wouldn’t see another day. I thought my life was over. I thought of every negative thing possible. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on my worst enemy. No one deserves to feel that pain; only me. I deserved it.

It was only a few days later that I thought about hooking a hose up to the vehicle, pulling in the garage, revving the engine, and hushing the pain. End the torture. The suffering was almost over. 

Almost.

The end of my story would have read like this, “Hockey coach found dead in garage in team vehicle after an apparent suicide.”

But some lucky person didn’t get to write that. My parents didn’t have to read it. My friends and family didn’t have to read it. My son didn’t have to read it. My players didn’t have to read it. No one had to read it. 

If I killed myself, people would have questioned, "Why would he do that? He has a lot of good things in his life." People would have never known the truth because I never spoke of the truth of my illness to anyone. They would have never known of my mental illness. If I killed myself, there would be more people that would have no idea or insight on what Depression is. That is why i made a commitment to me, and others to help. 

People ask me what stopped me. I reflect back and I believe that answer is ‘hope’.

No clue what I was hoping for, but something inside of me said, “Not tonight, T.J.”

It felt like one voice versus a million. The odds were against me, but I had a chance because I had a breath left in me. That is all it takes. The hope of one little breath, one little voice. That was the commencement of my change. The inauguration of my new life.

Some may question me, “Why are you reflecting back on this T.J.?”

Simple answer, really. It allows me to show people how far I have come. But it also reminds me of how far I have come. It symbolizes hope. Quite honestly, I didn’t think I would make it to Christmas 2016. And now, here I am, 50+ blog posts later. Hundreds of messages from people from all over Canada telling me I have helped them or a family member. People have even told me I have saved their life. That is amazingly impactful to me and my fight. It has been a humbling experience, and I look forward to continuing to help people. Trust me, it is possible to fight this illness. I am walking proof.

Not only did I make it here, I have reached other milestones as well.

Saw my son turn four.

Saw my son play hockey for the first time.

Helped others get help or be there for them when they needed someone.

Met so many new and inspiring people.

Mend and renewed my relationship with my parents and sister.

Got a tattoo that symbolizes me. (Never thought I get one)

257 days of sobriety. No alcohol since April 2016.

16 days of suicide-free thoughts.

It is safe to say this holiday is a little more positive than last years'.

"The first step towards change is awareness. The second step is acceptance."

                                                                     -Nathaniel Branden

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Stepping Outside of Myself- December 5, 2016

I have said this before, "I do not like the reflection in the mirror."

I am trying to change my view on that, but for now, that's how it is.

But I have come across another way of looking at myself; getting outside of my body and soul and mind and looking at me as another person.

What do I see? Where to begin?

Physically, I see a tall man, that isn't overweight, but has somewhat of an athletic built. I see a guy that has a lost and emotionless face. Never focused on something. Always wandering with his eyes trying to find some answers around him. A man that hardly smiles and takes a lot to crack a smile. He is not a hateful son of a bitch, rather a man searching for something, but he has no idea what he is looking for. Hard to find something when you have no idea what you're looking for.

When I look at this man, you can't see what is inside of him. There is no way of telling what is on his mind. He looks to have something to say, but can't seem to find the words. He looks tired.Always. Never rested. Miserable could be a word to use to describe him. This young man I see looks like he is pissed off and saddened by life. Yeah, he is definitely lost.

He looks confused and unsure of anything. He is full of secrets or something. I can definitely see there is something on his mind. He looks healthy. I mean he is 6'2, 200 lbs. He is a young man. Looks fit. So he must be healthy.

I notice his hands. No wedding ring, so I can make the assumption that he is single, gay, or maybe has a girlfriend. I have to cover all the bases. His fingernails are depleted. Especially three of them. There is nothing there. Chewed down to the finger. I am not a psychologist, but that must mean something. Bad or good, it explains something.

He walks methodically. Slowly, he gets along. Step after step, he moves quietly.

He isn't confident looking. He looks sad and unsure. What can be wrong with him?

The only place where he looks happy is at the hockey rink. Out on the ice, moving around gracefully and helping younger hockey players. I see some genuine smiles from him. It is like a whole new person. Once he walks through the doors of a hockey rink, he transforms into something magical. He interacts with people flawlessly and effortlessly. Whether it is teaching them something or sharing a joke or smile, he is definitely at his best. It is evident to see he is at peace in this environment and loves what he is doing. This is his happy place. It is his sanctuary. He sure looks like he has some joy from this.

That is what I saw a few weeks ago.

Now what do I see?

Something that I have not seen in a long time. Maybe ever. He looks more confident in his life. I guess more hopeful is the proper term. Sign of progress. A sign of life.

He still has a shyness to him. Won't speak first unless he is spoken to. There is improvement. A sign of life.

He still moves slowly. I guess that is not a bad thing. Maybe he is taking it all in. Everything around him, he is observing without judgement and just taking life as it comes. A sign of life.

Smile? Yeah. He is starting to crack a few. He wouldn't fake a smile anymore, so that must be real. Joy. He is finding joy in the little things in life. He is getting wise. A sign of life.

I notice he says thank you a lot. Therefore, I can assume he is grateful. Expressing gratitude more has definitely changed his life. A sign of life.

The way his face and eyes lighten up when his son is around is amazing. Another part of his life where the joy and goodness is coming back. If it isn't coming back, he is developing it. It is never too late to make changes to you life. It is too late when you're dead. A sign of life.

Back into my body.

How did this change, or transformation occur?

Was it all the doctors, nurses, mental health workers, friends, family, strangers, medications, etc.?

Absolutely. They are all critical to my well-being. But there is something that is a prequel to them all. I have meditated and searched for the answer. It comes down to one word in my mind.

Hope.

I didn't quit because I had hope. I seek help because I didn't want to give up. It was just one ounce of strength I had left. When the rest of my body was telling me to quit and give up and kill yourself, there was still one little ounce of hope.

Without hope there is no beginning to getting better. When it is 3:37 a.m. and everyone in your life is sound asleep, you are only left with hope.

I was literally minutes from poisoning myself and ending the torture and suffering. Something stopped me. There is no doubt in my mind it was hope. The hope to live another day. The hope to fight this illness. Hope that I will see my son again. Hope I will see my family again. Hope to skate down the ice again. Hope to have one more breath. Hope not to quit and die.

I am not sure if hope can be quantified. Even the smallest amount of hope can change your life. It can save your life. 'Glimmer of hope' is an expression. I am still alive because that is exactly what I had; a 'glimmer of hope'. I am walking proof that there may be millions of excuses to quit, but you only need the tiniest amount of hope to save your life.

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."
                                          -Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Just Ramblin' On: Part Two- November 20, 2016

November 7, 2016

I put pressure on myself. I read about suicides about people from all walks of life. It is heartbreaking to me, but also comprehensible.

I believe I am opened about my illness and being an advocate to help others. I say to myself often. "T.J., if you kill yourself, your message would be lost." There would be no validity to my battle. Just a sad ending. Staying alive to continue fighting helps others. I am OK with the self-induced pressure. Not that I need a green light, but being open about my illness allows me to express myself, whether I am having a good day or bad day. Am I the face of Depression? No. But I am 'a' face of Depression. My transparency lets me share my story, bad or good.

November 9, 2016

I am terrified. Absolutely scared. After discussions, soul-searching, and realizations, I have found a new fear, rather, it has found me. The fear of growing old alone.

'Alone' is the re-occurring theme in my life. I am a very lonely man. For one, I know I have family and friend support. But no matter how many friends I talk to or how many times I talk to my family members, I still have the loneliness feeling.

I am lying next to my son. He's asleep. I should be too, but I am fucked. I just gave him a long kiss on the cheek. He does remind me of the good in my life. A part of me wants to wake him up to have a conversation. I look at him and my eyes begin to tear up. I have saddening thoughts and depressive feelings going through me as I watch him in peace. He fills the emptiness. He takes my attention away from the feelings. He breaths some hope into my existence. I am still. I am alone.

Thirdly, no one can ever love me. No one is going to allow me into their life and share it. Who in their right mind (not me, of course) is going to allow themselves to open up and love me? I am damaged goods with a lot of baggage. Maybe I am meant to be the lone wolf and go through life without a love. I can believe that. I can see that. I am not worth the risk.

"What risk do you mean T.J.?"

Risk number 1; finding me dead. That is as straight-forward as I can be. What if I act upon my suicidal thoughts one day and my girlfriend/wife/partner finds me dead? That kind of trauma can leave a lifetime full of pain. That's not the worst part. I say this now and I mean it; if I were to kill myself, it would be done in such a manner that my body will not be found. Talk of suicide is a 'touchy' subject only if we allow it to be. I am open and sincere; no one will find my body if I kill myself. Trust me.

Risk number 2: some event or argument or anything for that matter triggers me and sends me back to the hospital. Life events can cause my depression to get worse. What if my partner cheated on me? What if she fell out of love with me? What if...what if....and what if? I can write all night about the 'what ifs'. The future cannot be seen by anyone, therefore there are always 'what ifs' in every relationship. Don't be afraid of the 'what ifs' and focus on the potential possibilities.

Risk number 3: I become the emotionless, heartless, and fake bastard I was in my last relationship. I had no feelings. No emotion. Zero. I am improving myself not to allow that to happen anymore. I am doing good with it so far. Will I revert to my old ways? I don't think so. I also believe I will never put someone through that again.

I am not scared to give love a chance. I am just scared of growing old myself. I am not afraid to fail. I am not afraid to let myself open up. I am not afraid to be vulnerable. I am not afraid to be true to my feelings. I am not afraid to express my feelings. I am just afraid it all won't be enough.

"Is wanting to die different from not being scared of dying?"

November 13, 2016

Lately, my dreams have been very troubling. First, when I started my battle back, I didn't experience dreams I could remember. I just assumed it was a side effect of the medications. I took it in stride.

Getting to sleep was hard. Getting up was harder. Sleep was my temporary getaway from my demons or problems. I didn't have to deal with anything when I finally fell asleep. Somehow, it was peaceful. Somehow.

I have always had issues with remembering my dreams. Good ones. Bad ones. the next day I would try to recall them, but it was spotty at best.

Now my dreams are filled with depression and anxiety. I am not kidding. Some of my dreams have been terrorizing. I guess that is what a nightmare is. I have experienced nightmares before that would be scary. You know, like dreams where you are falling or dreams of monsters. These recent dreams are based on real-life events. Like daily happenings of everyday life. Depression dreams. Anxiety dreams. It's like I cannot escape it now.

The odd part is I can't seem to wake from these encounters. I have no idea if this is even possible from a scientific standpoint. If one of the only getaways I have from my illness is now being hijacked by the illness, where do I go from here?

November 18, 2016

On my road to recovery or to whatever I am trying to find in this world of mine, I have come to a realization. A quote I seen on Twitter made me think about something.

During my resurrection as a person, I have been trying to spread hope, inspiration, and happiness to others. Suggest that people be more grateful for the little things in life. Give in to your feelings more. Love naturally and don’t be hateful. Allow yourself to be vulnerable to let people in your life that can make it better. Believe in faith and trust, regardless of your past.

Now it’s time for me to stop being a hypocrite. It’s like a light bulb went off above my head. I am trying to suggest these ideas to other people to help improve their lives, I am missing telling one person; myself.

Yeah, I have been more gratuitous. I have been more mindful of other people’s feelings. I have tried to slow down my thoughts and think before speaking. I have allowed my feelings to come out organically. I do have faith in people. My problem is lowering my shield and letting people in.

Someone said to me the other day; “T.J., you don’t take compliments very well.” That person was right. I don’t.

I look into the mirror most days. I hate the reflection. The aspiration of the man I see looking back makes me sick. Why? Because I see the negatives and I magnify them. My biggest critic is myself. I don’t like anything I see, and I can see deeper than the skin.

Saying to me, “You’re not good enough” is no longer acceptable. It is too generic of a statement. 

What am I not good enough for? Everything.

Everything is a generic response, is it not?

How come I cannot take a compliment? I cannot find one thing good about me to compliment. It is sad. I don’t think anything about me is good. I have confessed all of my flaws in previous blogs. The alcohol. The women. The gambling. There is nothing to hide for me, but I am playing one huge game of hide-and-seek. It could be the longest game of hide-and-seek ever. I am the seeker and I am not even remotely close to finding anything or anyone.

I love magic. I know it isn’t real, though, I am impressed by the work and execution of the performer.

I consider my life one massive magic show, except this performer is not working and not executing. Continuously, messing up the trick. Back to the drawing board. Back to the very basics. How many steps backwards are required to take one step forward?

I spoke to my doctor today. He asked me if I feel different not having an ECT in two months. I told him lately, it is a rollercoaster. And like a rollercoaster, going down is the scariest. It’s like life. The rollercoaster doesn’t stop at the top, when things are good. As in life, it keeps moving. The only way to stop is to end the ride, hence, end my life.

Do I have daily thoughts of not being alive? I would be lying if I said no. It’s not so much suicidal ideas as, “You know what T.J., life would be better for others being dead.” A memory can last forever. I will not. Maybe I can sacrifice my life to increase mental illness awareness.

When the demons are pulling the strings inside, it takes everything else inside of me to fight. I verbally have to talk to myself. I am not crazy, but I do have to talk myself some sense from time to time. (Time to time is daily in my world)

"Life is never easy for those who dream"

                                        - Robert James Waller

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Just Ramblin' On- Part One

This blog is a series of nights I just wrote what was on my mind and what I was feeling. I am literally all over the map emotionally with this. Some nights I need to write a lot to help the fight. It may not even make sense to the reader, but makes perfect sense to me and helps me not kill myself. It's a sad reality, but that's what it is.

October 25, 2016

Today, my sister moved into a new place. Along with the furniture, came me. We are all excited as it is a house we can call home. For me, it is somewhat of a new beginning. New house. New neighbourhood. It's all new to me. I know I want this to be the beginning of something special. I don't know what that is yet, but I am hopeful. Really, hope is all I have right now. I have no job. I have no money. My son lives in a different community. I cannot support myself. What am I left with? The answer is 'hope'.

I hope to get a job really soon. I hope to be able to make some money and support myself a little better. I hope to be a great father. I hope to change my life for the better. I feel I am destined for something great. I am not sure what that is at this point or how I will get there, I just know I have the right attitude to get there.

The year 2016 has felt like the longest of my life. It has the same amount of days as other years, but the it has been long for me. In and out of a psychiatric unit. Back and forth hundreds of kilometers to get treatment. Lost my dream job. Fell in love with a girl only to not have her anymore. Not waking up in the same house as my son everyday. Diagnosed with major depression, anxiety, and OCD. People I considered friends lost their lives. My grandmothers don't remember who I am. Fighting a gambling addiction. Trying to stay away from alcohol. Watching my son grow up from afar. Phone calls everyday from collection agencies.

WWE Superstar, Randy Orton's intro music starts out as "I hear voices in my head...they council me, they understand...". That's exactly how my mind operates. I hear voices. Mostly, it is my voice. Mine, disguised in different tones and dialects. No one talks to me more than me. The things that are said are scary to the general population. But it is just another day in the life of T.J. Smith. The depressed mind can be a terrifying place. I know mine is.

Do I feel it yet? What is there to feel if nothing is left? There are no strange thoughts, from my point of view. Normal doesn't exist. I am not special either. I am just me. Some days I have no idea what I am doing, feeling, or thinking. It can be challenging.

If the doctor told me I have a 1% chance of getting rid of depression as to 99% chance that I will live with it forever, I somehow have to give my 100% to that 1%. I cannot quit because the odds may be against me. To give in to something that can hopefully be tamed is enough so I can enjoy and live life. I have to fight to make that 1% the best possible. I can either be a memory or a legacy. The latter is harder, but as is all great legacies.

Never give up something that is worth fighting for. I am beginning to realize life is worth fighting for. I keep making sports references to my battle. As I have said before, I don't know the score. I don't know what inning it is, period, quarter, or round I am in. What I know is I am still alive in the game, therefore I have a chance.

A single spark can burn down an entire city. I just have to be that spark and hopefully it flares into something.

My random thought of the night is about clocks. My question is, how more enjoyable could life be if we didn't have clocks? Time happens regardless. Clocks are just the measuring device. Clocks are involved in everyday life for almost everyone. Our alarms are set for the morning. We need to get to work by a certain, predetermined hour. We have lunch at this time. The kids get out of school at this time. Our classes are scheduled for a time. I have a meeting after supper at this time. Yes, clocks keep our days organized and structured, but it is also directly related to stress.

Imagine a day or weekend where your clock doesn't exist or matter. You go to bed when you're ready. You can wake when your body is ready. You eat when you're hungry. Time still exists of course, but the measuring device does not. It is almost impossible to do, but give it a try sometime; it may relieve some stress in our busy lives. You do whatever makes you happy and you can really get into the moment. For example, if you're enjoying a cup of tea with a friend or a book. If there wasn't nowhere for you to be at a future time, you can enjoy and be present in the moment. Back home in Newfoundland there are many quirky and local sayings. One that I've heard several times is, "Havin' a time". It is never referring to a clock or even the length of time between a starting and ending point. It merely means, 'enjoying the moment'. People are having so much fun and joy and laughter and spending time with friends and family. They are really, "having a good time". Hence, 'havin' a time'. I don't usually analyze and breakdown Newfie slang and sayings, but wanted to bring this one to the forefront.

November 6, 2016

Why do I allow myself to get hurt? Why do I even allow the possibility? Do I enjoy pain that much, unconsciously I want to get hurt  just to feel something? There is always a risk to opening myself up and allowing someone else in. So, now comes decision time; do I learn to put up a guard so I cannot feel this pain anymore? Or, do I continue to take the risk of letting people in and getting hurt? Am I impossible to love or like? Question after question. With no direct or decisive answer. Perhaps I should go on as a single man for the rest of my life. Can't really get hurt that way. Or maybe I can handle the emotional pain. Just another day in my life. I can't say I am sick of pain, because in one way or another, everyday I have to deal with it. Maybe my purpose is to take on all the possible pain and deal with it. Why? Because I can deal with it. It makes me feel alive. Twisted.

It was in the darkness where I found hope.

It was when I wanted to die that I found inspiration.

It was when I was down and out when I found strength.

We all have our moments of struggle when the past, present, and future looks bleak. With each breath, we get closer to death. It's not about the result. It is about what we do with those breaths. We will all encounter the same result.  It is easy to take a step back from everything and feel sorry for ourselves. It is easy to hide from the reality of life. Giving up is easy or not easy, depends on your perspective. We may never give up on our own children. We may never give up on our friends. We may never give up on our family. It is giving up on ourselves that is the easiest. Not believing in oneself is easier than believing. Quitting requires no hard work. Quitting is easy. Easy is not just. It is just a way out. A way to quit.

Accepting difficulties is not easy. Adversity is not easy. Being knocked down over and over is not easy. The truth is, in my opinion, fighting Depression starts with accepting the reality of it and all the elements that come along with it.

Step one in fighting Depression, or any Mental Illness is accepting the fight. Accept whatever the truth is. I don't mean giving in to it. I mean coming face to face with the truth of the illness. If you had prostate cancer, you wouldn't hide it. You would accept the actuality of it and do what is necessary to fight it. Accepting the reality of the matter is the hardest step. I hid my pain for years. It dug a hole into the very nature of my being. I wasn't willing to accept the truth of my illness. In turn, to cope, I became something I was not. It took years from my life. It just about took my life.

From my experience, step two would be deciding to get help. The type of help will vary for each person. Personally, I didn't know what options I had for getting help. Much like the stigma, I thought getting help meant I was weak and powerless. Bluntly, I thought I was fucked. I 'assumed' because of things I have seen on TV or in movies, that I would be locked up in a cell, contained in a straitjacket. I was not educated on the types of help there was for Depression. I never heard of ECT (Electroconvulsive Shock Therapy) before January 2016. I didn't know there were many different kinds of anti-depressants available. Basically, I had no clue of anything with regards to Depression or any Mental Illness. I got educated through my experience.

Step three is patience and enduring. Remission or recovery or battling isn't easy either. But it is a step in the right direction. You're on the right road. I have been on it since last winter. On this road, there are some nasty slopes that I have to climb. Sometimes, there are unproblematic down-slopes. There is all sorts of nasty weather. Fog, rain, snow, and wind. I have to push through it all. Staying on the right path takes discipline. In some parts of my life, I feel and see improvements. I have been suffering for many years. This 'fight-back' in my life hasn't even been a year. I need to put it in perspective. I am doing good, considering where I was and how dark it was there. I cannot avoid the darkness of the night on this road, but I need to remember that light comes each day is some form. Some nights I rest for a break. I go to sleep in the dark. I wake up in the dark. Those are the intense battles. There is almost bloodshed and if there is, I am at least still on the right road.

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."

                                     - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

My Opinion on a Newspaper Article regarding Mental Health in Nova Scotia -November 1, 2016

http://thechronicleherald.ca/novascotia/1409879-premier-calls-health-authority-letter-to-mental-health-patients-unacceptable#.WBIfW8sgsIQ.facebook

I am not outraged. I am not surprised. Nothing surprises me anymore. The world could start World War 3 tomorrow, and I would not be taken back at all.

I am not surprised by this article. Not one bit.

In summary, the article is about a mindless letter that Nova Scotia Health Authority sent out to clients. It was brought to the attention of government officials in Nova Scotia.

The fact that a psychologist wrote the letter is disappointing. No wonder there is a stigma behind Mental Health and Mental Illness when we have doctors writing thoughtless letters.

How can we change the general population perception on Mental Illness when the people that are suppose to help us are hoping we 'improved by waiting'?

As it is mentioned in the article, it is no different than cancer or diabetes or any other disease. I am no doctor, and don't have the stats in front of me, but I am not sure how many people got better between treatments for cancer just by waiting. I guess there are some miracles out there.

Unfortunately, there are more questions than answers available right now for Mental Illness. I am just a nobody that is suffering trying to make a difference. I don't have all the answers.

Will this letter mishap provoke more services to become available for the public? Not sure. There were almost 20 appointments per day in 2015-16 in one county alone. That's almost one for each hour in the day. More has to be done. Sadly, at this point, there isn't.

I hate the politics behind it. One leader is calling out the other party to do something. How about this; we are all Nova Scotians, how about we try to work together to solve this very real problem in our province? Just a thought. Maybe, it is a tactic to garner votes for the future elections? We need people that truly care about Mental Health and Mental Illness to speak up. Most of those people are someone that suffers from an illness, or has a direct family member that suffers.

Where do you go in Nova Scotia for peer-support for Mental Health? If I wanted to speak with a so-called 'non-professional', who do I reach out to? Waiting for months to see a professional is absurd. Also, some people don't really need a doctor every time, they just need someone who understands what they are going through so they can talk to them. I have had some nights where I have had suicidal thoughts. On those nights, I don't necessarily need a doctor. I need a fellow sufferer so I can bounce my thoughts and feelings off of them and maybe get some feedback.

I sound like a broken record, but if you do not suffer from a Mental Illness, it is almost impossible for you to understand. The people that suffer are the front line. Many people have reached out to me just to talk. I have talked about everything from types of meds, to hospital stays (bad and good), to family members neglecting them, to people actually believing that Depression means you are possessed by little creature like demons. That's just a few topics. It has been people I have known all my life. It has been people I have met through Facebook. It has been complete strangers. The moral of the story is people reach out to me and we talk because I understand. I have been through the trenches and I can relate my experience to theirs and try to assure them there is a reason to fight and to not take their life.

I am not a health care worker. I am no doctor. I am a normal guy that has an illness, but my experience has been helping people. Some people have even told me, I helped saved their life. I am humbled by this. But I can help. So can others who suffer. Just a thought, but why don't governments, especially here in Atlantic Canada, create Peer-Support Mental Health and Mental Illness worker jobs? Cancer can kill over time. A lung or heart disease can kill over time. A Mental Illness can kill you instantly. If my Mental Illness got to a point where I couldn't handle it anymore, I could take my life the very next minute.It is a choice, but a choice that is persuaded by an illness that is very real.

Oh, and Mrs. Chenhall, I will be sure to inform you if my illness 'improves by waiting'. I am sure you are very concerned.

"Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity"
                                                                                               - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith