Knowing and Not Knowing - October 26, 2016

Do you know what I know?

I know the mind can create stunningly dark and dangerous thoughts

I know the heart can be so empty and hollow, that you don't show emotions for anything.

I know I am sick and it is not fun.

I know a lot of people with Mental Illness.

I know the past stresses me and the future worries me to the point where I cannot enjoy the present.

I know for me, it isn't always easy to get through the days

I know I almost killed myself.

I know I have had problems with alcohol and gambling. 

I know my Employment Insurance runs out and January and it scares me.

I know I am imperfect.

I know I talk a lot.

I know I am a mystery.

I know I have mental scars.

I know I have emotional wounds.

I know most days I think about death.

I know I was disrespectful to women.

I know I am in a lot of debt with a lot of companies.

I know 2016 has been the toughest year of my life, and maybe the worst.

I know a lot of people don't understand Mental Illness.

I know pain.

I know I was broken.

I know I needed help.

I know what hell looks like.

I know the demons that live there.

I know by saying that, people assume I am crazy.

I know I am not better yet.

I know I may never get 'better'.

I know I am not the only one.

I know how to cry.

I know the thoughts do not exit through tears.

I know people who want to kill themselves.

I know that nights can be endless.

I know the dark.....

And the dark sometimes owns me.


But I also know some other things

I know I have great friends.

I know I have an amazing sister.

I know I have tremendous parents.

I know I have a wonderful family.

I know my son loves me unconditionally.

I know he makes me smile and I make him smile.

I know there are people that can help me.

I know Mental Illness is not to be taken lightly.

I know people who suffer in silence.

I know there is a such thing as hope.

I know I am smart and educated.

I know strength.

I know resiliency.

I know how to cook.

I know addiction.

I know I love coaching.

I know I like writing.

I know I enjoy sports.

I know respect.

I know how to fight.

I know how to accept.

I know how to cry.


I also don't know things

I don't know where this illness came from.

I don't know if I will ever get better.

I don't know if I will not kill myself.

I don't know if I have seen the worst.

I don't know if I will ever get married.

I don't know if anyone will ever love me.

I don't know if I will ever get a job.

I don't know if speaking openly will prevent me from employment.

I don't know how to sing.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring.

I don't know if I will die alone.

I don't know if I can keep going some nights.


I also hope for some things

I hope I can keep going.

I hope I can grow old.

I hope I can love.

I hope I can have more kids.

I hope I can be a great dad for Nash.

I hope I can find a job.

I hope I can repay my parents someday.

I hope I am grateful.

I hope I am helping others.

I hope I can continue to find the strength.

I hope to get better.

I hope to inspire.

I hope someday the stigma is gone.

I hope people are true to themselves.

I hope to support others.

I hope to save people's lives.

I am...

Lost but winning

Hurt but strong

Alone but supported

Fallen but rising

Suffering but fighting

Beaten but recovering

Not dead but reborn

Down but not out

"Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings."
                                                     - Elie Wiesel

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

Highway of Thoughts and Feelings- October 18, 2016

Change is vital to me and my battle. Without it, I would be losing or worse, dead. Continuing down the path I was on would have brought me to my demise. Something had to be done. The past ten months have been the wildest and most dynamic part of my life. A lot has changed. A lot had to change. And I am still changing.

I do not fear change. Many people do. Accustomed to their ways or rituals or routine. That`s fine. There is nothing wrong with it at all. My life had to change. My habits had to change. My behaviour had to change. My attitude had to change. Almost everything had to change. Change saved my life.

I am not 100% sure where I should start on the things I changed, so I am going to start at the very top.

 

My thoughts and feelings.

Can I change the depressive thoughts or negative feelings that I encounter daily? No. I cannot and I know that now. What I am trying to change is how I deal with that. I may never be able to get rid of the Depression completely. So, what do I do? I have to develop a method to live with the illness.

I am beginning to meditate. It is amazing how much ten minutes can make a difference in your day. There is a saying I came across once, it went something like this; “if you can’t find twenty minutes to yourself to meditate, you need to find an hour.” I understand that. Anyways, in my meditation today, the narrator used an unbelievably simple analogy. We cannot halt our thoughts and we cannot neglect our feelings. They are coming, whether we like them or not. He referenced our thoughts and feelings as if it was traffic on the highway and we sat on the side of the road. It’s a highway so there will be vehicles. The vehicles are passing by. Different sizes. Different speeds. All different. It is when we try to stop those vehicles or chase them is when we get in trouble. If we stepped onto the middle of the highway, are we going to stop a car going 100 KMH? Not a chance. We would get ran over and hurt badly. Or imagine chasing a truck down the highway. If you were lucky enough to catch it, you would be completely exhausted from the chase. Therefore, chasing our thoughts and feelings can leave us exhausted and hurt, amongst other things.

So what can we do?

I know personally, I am having these up and down thoughts. I am trying to begin to be an onlooker from the side of the road. So, once a truck passes by, I acknowledge that truck (or thought), wave to it, accept it, and let it pass on by. I will still be there waiting for the next one. Like a highway, there are times when our minds are busier than others. There are good weather days and there are bad weather days. Some days there are very nice cars that pass and sometimes there is the same old rusty, beat up truck you saw yesterday. Sometimes there are new cars. Sometimes there are accidents we can't control. There are small cars and big transport trucks. They are carrying someone or something different. For me, the big transport trucks filled with Depression attract me. I am a sucker for them. Always trying to catch up and see what is it them. When I get there, I am disappointed.

At night, all we can see are the lights in the distance. Not entirely sure what kind of vehicle is approaching do to the darkness. In the fog, some vehicles forget to put their fog lights on and are on top of you before you know it. It gets slippery in the rain and snow, but most vehicles slow down then. I am trying to not chase the traffic or jump out to stop it. That will kill me. More ways than one

To sum it up, I am treating my thoughts and feelings as the traffic on the highway and teaching myself to be on the side of the road letting they all pass. No need to chase anything. No need to stop them. They are coming anyways, so I will accept that and let them pass by.

I am also trying to change my attitude. Thus far, I think it has been pretty sound during my fight. I truly believe attitude is one element of our lives we can control. Whether you’re battling cancer, approaching 100 years of age, have a sick child, jobless, trouble finding a partner, or financial issues, you decide the attitude you have towards life. There will be challenges in life. You can complain and complain about things, but it is up to you to do something about it. I have changed my attitude towards life as a whole. I am trying to be more mindful and appreciate each moment. I even catch myself telling myself to slow down at times. I am learning. I will get there.

Negative thinking breathes negative results. If you believe you are going to give up and quit, guess what you’re probably going to do? This past Saturday, I was very close to acting upon my negative thoughts. It was a tough night filled with cruel thoughts and unearthly feelings. But I learned through my newfound meditation method that I have to treat it like a highway.

I won’t leave you to imagine or guess what I mean. I will tell you from my own example.

So, one of the thoughts I had Saturday been to drive to Halifax and jump off the MacKay Bridge. For those that do not know, that is the bridge over Halifax harbour that connects Halifax to Dartmouth. But with that idea, it led me to feelings and other thoughts. First, of course, was my son. The first image/thought was him being a teenager about to graduate from high school. I saw his graduation ceremony. His mother and his step-father were there. I was not. It made me cry. The second thought was my parents at my funeral service. I am not trying to make this a sad story, rather share that these are the thoughts, not actions; I dealt with the other night. Third, I thought about the kids I am currently coaching. I get it. When I am dead, life will carry on. People will mourn. No big deal.

That’s what I deal with on my bad nights. The traffic of thoughts and feelings tell me, rather, lie to me. I am forever growing and developing. I feel I learned a new way to cope with those thoughts and feelings. Just like the cars on the highway, I know they are coming; I just need to accept it and let them drive right on by. No need to interrupt or fight it. I can’t stop them. Too big and powerful. They may be too dark or fast, as well. But I am beginning to learn that is OK. It is OK to have negative thoughts or feelings. How we handle them is the difference between living and dying.

So if you are reading this and you have recently had bad thoughts, I am telling you that it is OK. It may take awhile to understand that, I know that as well. Don’t fight the negativity. That's a tough fight to win. Rather, accept the feelings and thoughts, whether they are bad or good. Acknowledge them and be aware that you have negative thoughts or feelings. It is just like when people fall in love. Love is a great, emotional feeling. Should we fight it? Never. If something made you feel happy, would you look to fight that feeling? No, you welcome that feeling and how it makes you feel. It is OK to think and feel- whether it is positive or negative. The biggest challenge is to accept the bad with the good. It is the difficult thoughts or heartbreaking feelings that will build-up your character, your resiliency, and your strength. I will never give up and I will never let you give up. We are in this together and I am standing by you the whole way.

Saturday I wanted to give up.

Today I found a new way to find hope.

I didn’t quit.

Neither will you.

"If there is no struggle, there is no progress."

                                         - Frederick Douglass

Yours Truly, 

T. J. Smith

Suicidal- October 15, 2016

It's the first time in awhile that tears came down my cheeks. I am hurting tonight. I cannot get it together. This mental pain is exhausting. I can't get one thought straight.

I haven't felt this way in a long time. It's impossible for me to have a positive thought. Call me crazy. Maybe I am. This is difficult. Real difficult.

All I can do is imagine not being alive. It's either I fight and live, or quit and die. One option is hard. One option is easy. Right now, easy seems so simple to me.

I am not good enough for this life. I don't need to live.

I have people concerned. That is not my intention. I feel guilty. The power of this illness is unpredictable. I have to play the cards I am dealt. Tonight, I do not like the dealer. I do not like the cards. Maybe it is time to fold'em.

I can't run. I can't hide. I have to take this beating. It is a helpless feeling. I feel like I cannot help myself. I feel like no one can help me.

This is the part of Depression that I cannot understand. How the hell can I explain it to someone else?

I can't see the hope. I don't know what the inspiration is. I don't have the strength.

My thoughts are so jagged and twisted, they would make barbed wire look like a shoe lace. The thoughts are self-destroying. If I had any motivation or push, it would be over.

If I cannot fight and win, how am I suppose to help others? What kind of role model would I be if I quit? I would be a hypocrite.

There's no telling what inning I am in. Some days I feel and think I have this somewhat in control. Then a night like this hits me from out of the blue. How much more can I take?

I drove down the highway tonight. I had thoughts of closing my eyes when there was no traffic coming and see what the outcome would be. Should I be sharing this info? I don't give a shit. Any lies I tell plays right into the stigma behind mental health and mental illness. Yes, I indeed have dangerous self-harming thoughts. No, I am not crazy, but what do I know?

I am definitely knocked off my feet tonight. Lonely. Guilty. Troublesome. Useless. Worthless. Sad. Confused. Just some words I would use to describe my current thoughts and feelings.

I may have to accept this night as a loss. I have medication that can end this night. but I am not overly interested. The demons seem to have some good ideas tonight. I may indulge and give in to temptation.

I woke up next to someone this morning. I got to go see my son play hockey and coach his hockey. Then I got to coach my own team. Sounds like a great day. And it was until there was the unexpected knock at my inner door. The sleeping giant was awaken. More like the sleeping Demon.

You can't comprehend the frustration level. I can have a full day of positive things, and then with a snap of the fingers, I think long and hard about killing myself.

Mentally, I am drained. Physically, I am gassed. Emotionally, I am all over the place.

Depressed and confused. Sad and lonely. Useless and worthless.

I feel numb. I want to feel something. Numb is not good.

Do I understand Depression? No. I live it. Somehow, I am still alive.

I told someone the other day that you cannot teach or practice resiliency. Perhaps it is time to take my own advice. I have had Depression for years and by some minor miracle I am still alive. I graduated from university with a degree. I helped produce a child. I have got to coach hockey for the last six years. No idea how I am alive.

"Some days, 24 hours is too much to stay put in, so I take the day hour by hour, moment by moment. I break the task, the challenge, the fear into small, bite-size pieces. I can handle a piece of fear, depression, anger, pain, sadness, loneliness, illness. I actually put my hands up to my face, one next to each eye, like blinders on a horse."
                                                                                  - Regina Brett

PS: If I was to commit suicide, I would not post it on Facebook or any social media. No one know. No one would see it coming. Not even myself. It would done and over with.

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

Asking For Help- October 4, 2016

Asking for Help

Some days I walk around happy. Some days I walk around sad, but I fake the smile if I can. I have a programmed reply in my head for when people ask how I am. “Hi T.J., how are you today?” I quickly reply, without thinking, “Not bad. You?” I am not really evaluating how I am. I am just giving the answer that keeps me from getting into a lengthy conversation about how depressed I am and how it affects me daily. It’s my burden to bear. Not yours. Not anyone else’s. Just mine. I have major depression. Not you. You can’t possibly understand.

I am in a coffee shop. There are people all around. Reading, chatting with friends, feeding their newborn, and working on a laptop. Some of these people are affected by a mental illness. Whether they know it or not is another question. One way or another, someone within earshot of me has or had their life affected by a mental illness. I want to help them, if they want help.

Help, by definition, is ‘rendering assistance to’. I was ashamed to ask for help. I thought asking for help was a flaw in my design. An attribute of the weak. I felt weak. I didn’t have it in me to share my secret. It was a secret I kept from everybody. This is how depression, for me anyways, works with regards to help.

The feeling of guilt is a part of my depression. I am a well-educated gentleman. I know there are services and doctors and nurses that work to help people, whatever the sickness may be. It’s like I was chasing my tail. I knew I was depressed for years. I didn’t trouble anyone with my problem. I felt guilty asking for help. I felt and thought I was adding unneeded circumstances into their lives. I believed it was easier, sorry, and not easier; accommodating to not inconvenience others.

Depression makes me think that committing suicide is the answer to the help I require. If I am gone, well, I don’t need to ask for help- or anything for that matter. I couldn’t even ask the people that brought me into this world for help. I was ashamed to ask them for help. My memory is hit and miss, but I can’t remember when or how or why they came to Nova Scotia in early January, when shit was really hitting the fan. I remember two things from them coming to my aide; 1) I was sitting on the couch while everyone was eating and I just broke down and cried. I cried because I exhausted all options. I got hugs from my parents and my son’s mother. I was 29 years and I cried for my mom and dad to hold me. 2) I remember them bringing me to the hospital the day I was first admitted. We were at the hospital so I could get blood work done. They were persistent that I go to outpatients and see the doctor. I was against the idea. That’s what depression does- it clouds your vision of anything that is right. If they were not there to help me that day, who knows what would have happen? Well, I know.

What makes asking for help so vigorous? Asking for help invokes a guilty conscience within. Bothering people is not something I was willing to do. Who in their right mind would help someone who is “crazy”? As I said before, depression is like having a little devil on your shoulder, only difference is that he is on both shoulders. Depression beats me down and blames everything on me. I wish it wasn’t real. The doubts build up in my head. “T.J., go hang yourself. No one wants to help you. Life will be easier with you dead”. I needed help. I still need help. Help, keeps me alive. I thank you for that help.

I know depression is a liar. Depression creates a manifestation of fabrications inside my head and in my heart. I reflect back through the past ten years. I often wonder how I survived. I had help. Alcohol and gambling helped. No point in lying. If it wasn’t for those two things, who knows if I would be dust or not. I know now alcohol and gambling may have helped, but was not the answer. It’s like a boat taking on water. The boat can still stay afloat with taking on some amount of water. But too much sinks the boat, and the captain must go down with the ship. I was the captain and my ship was sunk. The salvage crew, my parents, family, friends, and professionals got my ship back to the surface. Without their unconditional help, my ship would still be on the ocean’s floor, slowly deteriorating until nothing was left to resurface. Now the ship is floating, slow of course, but the captain is at the helm and ready to fight any impeding storms.

Navigating my life through this illness is not a solo-mission. It will require assistance from others. I do not know how much, but it is necessary. Where the help comes from doesn’t faze me anymore. I realize there are people in my life that care and want to help, in any way possible. I am learning that I am not a nuisance. I need help. I can say it freely now. Do I rely on my family still to help? How else does a ship sail? A ship is only as good as its crew. I break it down to a simple question; do I want help and live or not get help and die? The way I see it, if death was better than being alive, someone would have already come back from beyond the grave to endorse it.

When I write, sometimes I go off on a tangent. The point of this blog entry is to let people know that asking for help or getting help is mandatory to fight depression, or any other mental illness. It would have been impossible for me to fight it on my own. Those who try to fight it on their own usually lose. When they lose, so does their friends and family. So, if you can take anything from my own experience, ask for help. Ask your parents, siblings, partners, doctors, nurses, me, someone or anyone. Yes, I know and understand that asking for help is not easy and is stressful. I get it. I was there. But asking for help is better than dying. If I didn’t ask for help, I wouldn’t have got to see my son play hockey for the very first time last weekend. If I didn’t ask for help I wouldn’t have reached the age of 30. Don’t feel ashamed or perceive it as being weak-minded. That is the furthest thing from the truth. Depression lied to me and tried to guide me down the wrong road. Trust me when I say it is OK to ask someone for help. If you don’t want to ask anyone you know, ask me. I am the olive branch to depression. I can help guide you through difficult times.

I needed help. I need help. I will continue to get help. Past, present, and future.

I am still alive. I am here for you. How can I help?

“When a person is down in the world, an ounce of help is better than a pound of preaching.”

                                                                               - Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Tour Guide of Hell - September 27, 2016

I haven’t written in a while. I am lying to myself again. Well, something is lying to me from within. I am not crazy. I understand what’s going on. I don’t expect you to.

My feelings are real. There are no lies. Just truth. Feelings hurt more than thoughts. I cannot run or hide from them. Whatever comes about, I have to deal with. I may not face them immediately, but eventually I have to play the cards I am dealt.

My thoughts create images. My thoughts create lies. Tell me things I don’t want to hear. I want to write something inspiring. I can’t find the words.

I had a thought today. Actually, what would be a frightening image to most is a blessing in disguise for me. My brain is a weapon that can kill at any moment if I let my guard down.

I am afraid of myself and the imagery I can construct. I close my eyes. My teeth are chipped because the gun that I hold in my mouth is vibrating from my anxious, but uncertain hand. I never held a hand gun before. Sadistically, I have a gut feeling I know how to pull the trigger. I have tears departing my blue eyes. The taste of steel is brutal. “You can do this”, I hear.

I open my eyes. There is no gun. My teeth are still whole. My hand still shakes. I notice it shakes a lot now. I don’t want to blink again because the next time I close my eyes, I may form another daunting image.

I don’t want anyone to understand. How can anyone understand that? Comprehension of depression is not possible. I don’t understand it 100%, and may never. I have accepted it as a part of my life. Some people don’t believe it is an illness. I invite you into my head for 2 minutes. You will then know it is an illness.

I am not in search of sympathy. I want reality. Pretentious people can leave me alone. I don’t need them in my life. All I am really looking for is support. Not understanding. I cannot and do not believe it is possible for people without depression to understand it. Your own child may suffer from depression, and you could not even know. You will not understand it. Never will. Much like I don’t understand life without depression. That’s why I say to others who suffer, “I understand”, because I do. It’s like our own language. I can speak all I want about it, but unless you know it, you can never understand it.

I am scared, but I tend to hide it. I hide it around my son. I hide it at the hockey rink. I hide it when I talk to friends and my parents. I am scared of my next step. I am scared of my next suicidal thought. What am I supposed to do? Walk around crying the whole day? Everything I am scared of is internal. In my opinion, when you overcome the fear of death, the next part is the scariest; how am I going to do it? Maybe I haven’t come up with a satisfying death sentence. “It will be special”, I confide in myself.

Those are the thoughts and lies I wrestle every day. I know my family wants me alive. I know my son needs his daddy. I know my friends want me around. I know these things, but I am told otherwise. The advice I am given can outweigh the truth some days.

The fight with the lies is on again tonight. I won’t hide anything; I am financially stressed the fuck out. I am not sharing my problems for sympathy. Remember, I am not looking for that. It’s my reality. It’s my situation and my life at the moment. I have to face it and deal with it head on. I know I need a job in the very near future. It worries me, but learned to not let the anxiety get the better of me. I know what has happened is behind me, whether it happened years ago or just a second ago. I may not be able to control everything that happens next, but I can undoubtedly control my attitude towards it. Some days I think being 30 is like being the oldest person ever and I am ready to be done. Some other days I feel 30 is great and I have 70 more years to live. I mean, I look at my friends; they seem successful and happy in their life. I don’t envy that. It is one of the few things that bring me joy. I am proud of them. More than they will know.

This personal battle is self-enhancing. Each time I get up after a devastating blow, I grow stronger. I learn more about myself. I learn I am unbelievably strong to still be getting to my feet in a fight with depression. This illness has humbled me. It has made me grateful. I think of the many that have fallen before me. I fight with them in mind. And for those that suffer, I cannot and will not quit, or let them do so, if I can help it.

The more I talk with individuals, the more I realize I am like a lighthouse. I can be the guiding light on the dark, foggy nights. When the seas are rough and tossing them around, I can be the beacon of hope that lets them know they are not alone and close to safety. My voice can be like the foghorn. The dangerous rocks are nearby, but so am I. Actually; my next tattoo is going to be a lighthouse. Ironically, I wasn’t a fisherman. I grew up on the coast, but I was always on land, like the lighthouse.

I have been to hell many times. I know the smells, sights, and sounds. I keep going back there when I least expect it. But by being there, it has taught me how to survive it. I do know the smells and where they come from. I have seen a lot there, and know what to believe. I heard most everything that goes on there. In a weird way, I am the Tour Guide of Hell. Let me show you around, but we are not staying for long.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

                                    - Winston Churchill

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

I Just Don't Know- September 8, 2016

I am tired, but I cannot sleep. I am thirsty, but I cannot drink. I am hungry, but I cannot eat. I have been here before. You would think my past experiences would help me this time around. They have not. I know this feeling. I know these thoughts.

I have looked this demon in the face before. Virtually, I am willing to give in. I have seen it play play out in my mind. Everything from the suicide note to apologizing to my son. How bad is my life that suicide seems to be the smartest decision?

I am lonely and no one is here. I am sad and have been for years. I am angry and I do not know why. Tonight, an incredible amount of anger has overcome me. Out of nowhere, I have become pissed off. If someone was with me, they would see it physically in my body language and more so, from my facial expressions. If I had company with me, and they made me more mad, I would snap. There is a ferocious feeling inside of me. I never felt it before. It's nothing I have ever felt before. Not even close. The only thing I fear is what is inside of me. Tonight, in this moment, I am the most fearful I have ever been.

Am I winning this battle? How will I know if I ever win? Is it about winning, or is surviving considered a victory with this illness? I may be still alive, but I am tortured. I don't fake my smile anymore. I am real about my illness. I have opened up to it. Faced it. Accepted it. Maybe I expected it to be easier, as I seemed to get better. Then these nights occur and bring my back to planet Earth and my reality. Perhaps it is false hope. I don't know. I never know.

Sometimes I daydream. I catch myself planning my own funeral. Wondering where I will have the service. Who will come pay their last respects. Sadly, these thoughts do not scare me. Maybe I already have it written down somewhere. If not, maybe I should. Put the thoughts down on paper. I know they are real. Perhaps I should record it for the record.

Am I desperate? Do I know what that word means? What am I desperate about? I could be desperate to die. That may be the only way to end these internal monsters. I could be desperate to end the noise, feelings, and thoughts. At some points, it doesn't even matter.

Seconds seem like minutes. Minutes like hours. And the hours seem endless. If clocks didn't exist, would I even care or notice? During my dark nights, I am told everyone dies. It is suggested to me that since everyone dies, I should take matters into my own hands and beat everyone to the finish line. I try to lie to myself and tell me that I am fine. Fine has no meaning in my world. I lie to myself more than anyone else. I am so alone and sad, the only company I have are my demons. They talk to me more than anyone. Sometimes, like a smooth-talking politician, they make very valid points. I begin to listen to them. I do not know why, they seem right and even worse, they have my attention.

If I didn't write or express myself, this would be the kind of misery and pain I would have to deal with bottled up. No one to speak to. I don't think about what i am going to say. I just let it out. 100% truth. 100% scary. If the board members inside me hear or are persuaded enough, they may come to an decision and take action, I would be left powerless. I would be found dead.

"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."
                                                                        - Mark Twain

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Helping Others is Helping Myself

It was time to write again.

Personally, I have been doing well. I mean, for a guy who suffers from Major Depression. Hockey season has started. It keeps my mind busy. Therefore, it helps with hiding or preventing damaging thoughts. A positively mind is crucial to my battle against my illness.

A story was written about my Depression and me coming public with it. It was published in a few newspapers in Nova Scotia. I have a lot of positive feedback from being so honest with my story. Actually, I do not consider it a story. It's just my life and my illness. Stories are made up. My battle is real and true. Non-fiction.

Since the newspaper article, people from all over Canada has reached out to me. It's tremendously humbling. People I do not know saying my battle is inspiring. People telling me that coming 'clean' with my illness has helped them understand more and find themselves seeking help. Some share their experience with me, but still, a lot of people do not know about it.

Hearing people tell me their side of things has made me realize that speaking out about my Depression is critical for helping others. I am starting to grasp that I am helping others. I am finding purpose in my life. As brutality honest as I have been, painful at times, it helps others.

We cannot change the past. What I have been through mentally and emotionally and physically has been detrimental to my life. It has left scars on my mind, my heart, and my soul. Things I want to forget, but never will. My memory is inconsistent, but there are thoughts and feelings I will never forget. It's impossible to lose those memories.

Retaining those memories has equipped me to aid other people in their battle.

Sharing the feelings and thoughts allows me to comprehend others who suffer from Depression. It's incredible how many people have reached out to me. I am not surprised by the number of people, because as the stat indicates, 1 in 5 suffer some type of mental illness. I am not surprised people have hid their illness for years. I am not surprised that people are still uneasy to share their illness with many people. In some cases, their own family members do not even know. It is not sad or embarrassing. It is an illness and it is not an easy thing to do. I know. I honestly do.

Each day I talk to someone about Mental Health. Some people I have known for awhile. Some people I just recently got to know. Not one bad person in the bunch. Just people suffering from an illness and have concerns. I totally get what they are experiencing. I do not know if it is my calling, but helping others is something I love. I don't want it to stop.

Helping other people has given me something to look forward to each day. It motivates me. I am willing to meet people for coffee. Talk over Facebook. I would even go visit people if they are in the hospital. Why do I do this? Simple. The pain that they are going through cannot be comprehended by someone that does not suffer. I suffer everyday in different ways. I can help others battle their demons because I am winning my battle against my demons, and personally, I believe I am a winner. So far, no one can argue that because I still have air in my lungs and a beat in my chest.

My goal is clear, in my eyes. I am making a difference in people's lives. To a certain degree, I am helping to save their lives. I used to be the worse listener in the world. My mind was occupied by monsters that prevented me from being present.

The things in my life I can control, I work on. Things I cannot control, I don't get frustrated with anymore. The absolute biggest thing for me is acceptance. Accepting who I am. Accepting my illness. Accepting help. Accepting support. Accepting my past. Accepting that speaking publicly about my illness helps people. And in the very instance it helps people, it also helps me. I haven't done it yet, but I have to accept I am helping other people and with that, I have to accept it helps me.

"It is not so much our friends' help that helps us, as the confidence of their help."

                                                                                   - Epicurus

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith