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

'Tis the Season when I Struggle the Most- December 24, 2017

I read a blog recently, and the lady describe my Christmas exactly how hers was going; long nights watching same old movies I have seen 100 times before, scrolling through social media seeing other people smiling, and wondering why my life is so terrible at times. I don’t envy other people’s happiness or joy, nor am I jealous. On the contrary, it gives me some joy and emotion seeing my friends and family happy. It gives me hope that maybe some Christmas soon, I will get to create and share my own moments of happiness. For the time being, it’s just not in the cards for me.

I could pretend that everything is alright, and I am happy, and Christmas is the best time of the year. I can’t do that. I am not faking anymore. Christmas is truly the most difficult for me because it was this time two years ago I had my serious mental breakdown, and almost took my own life. I have a bad memory, but that is something you don’t really forget.

Along with the traumatic events of two years ago, it is also the time when I feel the loneliest and most vulnerable for a relapse. (A relapse for me would be to attempt suicide or to find my way back into the darkness). I can talk more openly and freely about this now because of my psychotherapy and work I have done to handle these disturbing thoughts.

Last year, I think these thoughts would have more weight and influence over me. But due to my work with ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy), I have learned the skills necessary to handle and deal with these troubling thoughts.

I need to make one thing clear; I may generate these thoughts of darkness, but I don’t want to. I also can’t stop them. And to a certain degree, I cannot control them. That being said, I can understand them and defuse them.  

Here’s a recent thought I had at 2:10 am on December 23^rd, 2017; (This may be difficult for some to read because it is very difficult for me to write. I wrote it in my journal).

“I can kind of get pass the suicide thoughts. Though, my thoughts take me to, instead of killing yourself, T.J., why don’t you just disappear.”

This can be a very challenging thought if I did not know how to handle it. The thought that followed was also disturbing.

“How could I fake my suicide and move away from everything?”

Again, tough thought. My reasoning is I want to get away from my life. You know, the ‘life’ that consists of no money, no work, not seeing my son much, living with my sister, and uncertainty of my future. Maybe I can start a new life?

But in reality, that will not be a solution to my illness or situation.

Thoughts are not real. They are just what they are, thoughts. A bunch of neurons firing in the brain creating all kinds of shit in your mind. If you follow through on those thoughts, that’s how they become reality. I am at the point where I can distinguish thoughts from actions.

A metaphor for thoughts I read makes perfect sense to me. Imagine that I am the sky. And what happens in the sky? Weather.

Weather changes daily and comes in all magnitudes and sizes. Our thoughts are no different than the weather. I, the sky, is the constant. Never changing. It’s the weather that changes. There are big storms and small storms. There are tornadoes and hurricanes. There is rain and ice. All negative weather patterns.

But there is also sunshine and rainbows. Just like my thoughts. 

Scary and dangerous. Beautiful and happy.

And just like the weather, our thoughts pass.

What comes after a storm? Usually nice, peaceful weather. That’s my hope. I can get through this temporary storm and enjoy the sunshine. This is the key to dealing with the negative or problematic thoughts, understand that is what they are, just thoughts, and they will pass.

Am I really going to fake my own suicide? No, I am not.

My point is this, no matter how difficult your thoughts may be, especially this time of year, there is hope and a way of preventing yourself from falling back into the darkness.

This is not meant to be a sad blog post. This is a post about hope and positivity.

Listen, I can’t compare my life to others or my depression to others. No two people are the same and everyone who has depression doesn’t encounter what I have/had.

I want to reinforce the fact that this time of year is hard for people with depression. I get it. I understand it. I empathize with it. But you can handle this.

It is totally OK to feel that way. Do not feel pressured to be something you’re not. Recognize your challenging thoughts as passing weather and realize it doesn’t make you a bad person, or crazy, or whatever it tells you.

Christmas, in my opinion is about family, friends, and the connections we share amongst those people we love.

No disrespect intended, but how many of us truly celebrate the birthday of Jesus Christ? I don’t remember having a birthday cake on Christmas morning, saying “Happy Birthday Jesus”.

It’s about being with the people we love and care about. I know the people around me love me and care for me. But I cannot show or express that well right now because I struggle with this season. I have spent more money on gifts this year than ever before. I just want to give to others, and hopefully, it helps me feel something good about myself, even if it is just for a second. Seeing someone else happy ignites something in me. Something good and positive. Hell, I let my son open three gifts yesterday. I just wanted to see his joy.

You will be surrounded by people physically in a room or party, and feel lonely. I get it. Don’t worry about it (those are terrible words to say, but coming from me and where I have been, trust me).

Stay patient with the process of getting better. It’s a long, hard road to recovery. It’s a challenge, but it feels so good once you overcome this challenge.

I am not writing this on Christmas Eve to look for sympathy or to put a damper on the holiday. I am writing this to the people that need it the most. The people that are surrounded by so many, but feel so alone. My message is, you’re not alone. That’s just your thoughts telling you some lies. Not everyone in your life will understand you, but I do. And I want you to remember this when or if you’re feeling down. I am with you all the way. Because, whether you know it not, you are with me and together we will overcome this because we are fighters and will battle.

We might not fully understand it, but life is an amazing and wonderful thing. It is something worth celebrating and being grateful for. To all my friends, family, and strangers out there that find this a difficult time of year, I am here for you and you’re there for me.

I do not believe in giving in to my demons. I will endure the pain and conquer the thoughts. Defeat is not an option. Hopefully, my words help you understand that as well.

This is a time of year when our mental illnesses can really play havoc on our lives. Do not allow that to happen. You have the ability to fight. All you need is hope. Hope is the most powerful word this time of year. Hope is far greater than medications and books. Hope comes from within and it’s one thing that is truly yours. You give birth to the hope inside of you. With hope, you can overcome any obstacle that stands in front of you.

Happy Holidays!

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite Hope.”

-          Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Speaking to the Students- October 2017

This week can be described by the following terms;

Humbling.

Overwhelming.

Gratifying.

Touching.

It is Mental Illness Awareness Week 2017, and it was a busy week.

I was given the privilege and honour to speak in front of about 700 students at three different educational institutions in Truro, Nova Scotia. It was the first time I spoke about my life and my mental illness in front of a live audience.

It was a life changing experience for me, and I hope, for the people that listened to me.

Before I go any further, or you, as the reader make the assumptions, "it's not a big deal", or "stop talking about yourself T.J.", I want to tell you all why I always wanted to do this.

After speaking in front of 600 high school students, a student approached me and I could see it in his eyes that he was about to tell me something powerful and emotional.

As he fought back the tears, he courageously told me this;

"Two days ago, I was going to commit suicide. I was in a bad spot and I was looking for a sign, and I feel hearing you speak today was that sign for me."

I was instantly humbled and proud of that boy having the intestinal fortitude to share that with me. I wanted to hug him. I told him that I would be there for him if he needed anything and encouraged him to keep fighting.

I did not expect to hear that today. I may never hear from that kid again, I hope I do, but by sharing my story, I gave him some hope, and all he needs is hope to continue to be a warrior. If you read this, you my friend are a strong and inspiring individual and if there is anything I can ever do for you, please contact me.

Just before that young man shared his story with me, a young lady approached me. She looked at me simply asked, "What happened to you as a child?"

I looked at her with confusion on my face. I replied, "What do you mean?"

She quickly asked the same question again. I told her basically everything I talked about in my childhood was what happened. In the presentation, I gave a chronological recap of my life.

Now we were both somewhat confused with this conversation.

Then she made a comment along the lines of this;

"Well, something must have happened to you as a child."

She was eluding to the fact that because I have mental illnesses, something must have happened in my early years. Mental illness is not a simple equation like, A+B=C.

That's not how it works.

So, I told her nothing traumatic happen to me as a child, that it was later in my life that I started to notice the signs and symptoms of depression.

She said, "Oh", and then went about her business.

What did that quick exchange tell me?

That young person was not informed and educated on aspects of mental illness. That is not necessarily her fault. That's just how it is. She presumed there had to be a precursor for my illness. Maybe there was, but not in my childhood.

For me, it is important to speak to these students. I want to share my message of being at the very edge and give them a message of hope. Before October is over, I will have reached over 800 students. I think they are engaged with my story. I can relate with them as I am not too far removed from their age. I coach that age group in hockey. I get the stresses and struggles in their lives. Empathy is a skill I have to connect with these kids. When I listen, I just don't listen to the words. I listen for the emotion and the pain that they have. When I say I completely understand, they know I am not lying.

I need to continue to share my message of hope and recovery. It is often a predetermined thought that because you have an illness of any nature, that it is impossible for recovery. If you hear the word cancer, we instantly think of the worse. When we hear depression or schizophrenia, we automatically think of a chronic struggle with no chance of a meaningful life. My goal is to change this thought process with our youth. It will not happen over night, but it is possible if they become educated and want to be leaders in their schools.

My message is simple. Hope is MANDATORY. With hope, it is amazing what we can accomplish as humans. Hope comes in many forms for many people.

I will keep spreading that message and inspire people to keep fighting. And for those that are not fighting mental illness, I will continue to educate them to be more sympathetic and helpful to those of us that have our daily, internal struggles.

Because of these speaking opportunities, I have had people from my home province of Newfoundland and Labrador reach out to me about talking to schools back home. I hope (again with that word) that I can do this. I think it is worth an hour of the students time to listen to someone to that has been through the experience of dealing with mental illness.

I don't know if I have saved someone's life, but I know I have got their attention and have helped.

I do not need much time. Just an audience to share my story and message with. Words can be powerful. They are even more powerful when they are real and raw. I am not a story teller.

I see myself as an Inspiration Speaker.

"Start by doing what is necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly, you are doing the impossible."
                                                                                        - Francis of Assisi

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith

Societal Perception of Me or My Illness? - September 18, 2017

I tell myself that I do not care what other people think of me. At the end of the day, I do believe this. Maybe not always, but I do now. It helps me live each day.

That being said, my mind does wander from time to time. A general question arises for me; “But what do people actually think of you?”

I mean, when they look at me, is their first judgmental thought, “Hey, there is T.J., that guy with depression and speaks about it?”

Or is it, “Hey, there is T.J., the father, business owner, and hockey coach?”

Or is it, “Hey, there is T.J., you know that guy with depression and is crazy?”

Personally, it doesn’t bother me, but it has my curiosity. I know people are ignorant. They form their opinions and make their judgments. But I could care less. I am curious because I am interested in what makes them have these thoughts and believe these thoughts that they have no clue about. I mean, before they ever speak to me or meet me, do they already have their mind made up of who I am as a person because of my mental illness?

Wayne Dyer said it best, “The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don’t know anything about.”

It can be viewed that I took a huge risk speaking openly about mental illness. From my end, I didn’t calculate all of the possible societal backlashes. I didn't calculate the possible risks because I didn't care and believed that it didn't matter, that me sharing my story would only help others.

First example

Posting something on Facebook or social media can and will be seen by potential employers. So, if I applied for a job, before the recruiter or HR Manager even calls me, they could do a quick search on my social media and see that this guy ‘has’ depression. I think I applied for about 20 jobs in early spring. Not one phone call or email. I have the qualifications. I have the education. I have most of the experience. Perhaps, I just didn’t have the ‘proper mental health?”

Not saying this is the case. It's thought-provoking. 

I will not put everyone in the same group, but I do believe some people out there would see that as a red flag.

“We cannot hire someone who almost killed himself. That doesn’t look good on the company. Or maybe, “he will miss a lot of work due to his sickness. Maybe he cannot handle the stress of working here and his mental health could get worse.”

Few, if any, will admit this reality. I mean, companies cannot afford to let something like this get out to the public or media.

So, in many ways, I could be the most qualified applicant, but due to ‘an illness’, people and companies may want to avoid me. They do not want to deal with the ‘risks’ that come with someone with depression, and not just mild depression, but full-blown, ‘he cannot come back from it’ major depression. Stigma is attached to all of this in the workplace.

But are they avoiding me or my illness?

The answer to that question is, they are avoiding my illness, but it is the wrong answer. I rather the answer be they would be avoiding or rejecting me. I can comprehend that more.

But we cannot conduct surveys with HR Managers to ask them if they ever ‘not’ hired someone because of their mental health.

My last Record of Employment, where it says, “Reason for Issuing this ROE” simply has one word beneath it.

“Sickness”.

I have forgiven the situation, but it bothers me still to this day. I wish I could have done more.

Second Example

I have not had a drink of alcohol since April 12, 2017. I have a long-term goal of reaching November 12, 2017.

Prior to stopping, I wasn’t a drunk or an alcoholic. Just when I drank, I got messy and it effective me negatively and those around me. I don’t think I was ever physically abusive. I would use verbal attacks. Something I am not proud of.

Lately, I have been thinking about my alcohol stoppage. Not so much the stoppage, contrarily, the use of it again.

I don’t know if I have been having urges or maybe I want to test myself. I can’t understand why I am thinking about it, but the thoughts are there. I recognize the thoughts and deal with them accordingly.

I am all over the map with the thoughts too.

“What if I have a drink on November 13, 2017?” “Will the previous 18 months dry now be pointless and insignificant?”

“What will people think if they saw me drink, knowing that I made a commitment to not drink for so long?”

“I am 31 years old. I can make my own decisions.”

“What if I drink and cannot handle it again?” “But, what if I can?”

Every month I post on the 12^th day to recognize my new milestone of not drinking. I get praise from people. So, if I end my dry-spell, will people still send me messages of praise and tell me that they are proud of me? I am guessing no.

It could be seen as me letting people down or letting myself down. I don’t know.

Again, society-based questions. More curious than anything. Would people be worried about me? Well, there are many others than me that have depression and still drink alcohol. Are you worried about them? Possibly, someone may approach me and tell me that I shouldn’t be drinking. Their opinion will be noted and respected, but it doesn’t matter to my decision.

The last time I drank was a Sunday afternoon. I was with my best friend in a pub downtown Halifax watching a Toronto Blue Jays game. Sat next to us at the bar was the guitar player for the band Hedley. He gave me tickets to his show in Halifax the following night. We had a great time for an hour or two. We shared stories of our sons. His son’s name is Archer. Awesome name. I will never forget that.

Then the wheels came off.

Last time I drank, I believe my last thought I had before blacking out was, “I am going to jump off the bridge over Halifax harbor”.

Something along that nature I believe. The next day, I drove straight to the hospital in Yarmouth.

That's the last memory I have while drinking. It is something I have been open about. It is also the last impression I left on people. An impression that can be described in words.

"T.J. cannot drink because he will try to kill himself again."

I have come a long way since then with my illness and life. I believe I don’t drink because it is a safety protocol to have good mental health and to stay alive. Kind of like wearing my life-jacket on a cruise ship the whole time. Just in case.

Do I think I will have a drink again in my life?

Yes, I do.

When? Well, I don’t know. But I am sure there will be people thinking the worst. Maybe I can enjoy a drink like most others now. Before, when I drank, it was to drown the depression that I had no idea of how to handle.

I drank to cope, to turn into someone other than T.J. Maybe now I can have a drink to enjoy.

Maybe. But it won’t be any time soon.

These are just two prime examples I struggle with when it comes to my identity. I wonder if I am trying so hard to become a mental health advocate that people see my depression before they see me as a human.

Today, I woke up. Brushed my teeth. Got some gas and a coffee. Drove to the ferry terminal. Got on the ferry. Walked to my office. Said hello to a few strangers. Replied to a few emails.

Later today, I have to drive to Truro for hockey practice. I am playing hockey with some buddies later tonight. I mean, I am just a person living his life.

The difference is, I live it with a mental illness and any day can be difficult for me. But I am doing my very best to not let my illness define me or my life. You shouldn't let it define me either.

My illness can hinder all aspects of my life, but I am not letting it anymore. I have accepted that until my last breath, I will battle every day, like many others in this world that fight with their mental illness.

I am comfortable in my skin and who I am. I have grown so much over the last year or so. I am not the same person. I am trying to better myself every day. I am happy. I am doing whatever I can to live a meaningful life.

So, if someone looks at me and thinks, “There is T.J., the guy that talks so much about his mental illness and has depression.” So be it. I cannot control other people and their thoughts.

The stereotypes and stigma will be associated with mental illness until people become more educated on the illness and more is being done for the people that have a mental illness.

I know who I am and what I value in this life. I have a great understanding on my life. Better than ever before. 

There is only one person’s opinion I care about, and when he looks at me, he doesn’t see my mental illness. He sees someone different. He sees unconditional love. He sees a smile.

He sees his daddy.

"Most rules that you think are written in stone are just societal. You can change the game and really reach for the stars and make the world a better place."

                                                                      -Sebastian Thrun

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith

#WorldSuicidePreventionDay - September 10, 2017

I think sometimes I try to lie or fool myself. I can’t help it. I also do not know why I do this. It truly confuses me. On my best days, I tell myself I have this depression thing figured out.

That’s a lie.

I feel I understand my illness. I have done a lot of reading and thinking. I am careful to trust my thoughts. They can be deceiving.

I think back.

It was December 2015. I am all by myself living in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. It’s before I went to a doctor and to the hospital. I recall putting the vehicle in the garage. As I got out to go to the house, I saw a hose. Just a simple vacuum hose. Black and coiled up. I can still see it. It was dusty and short, but long enough. I can still remember the thought I had that followed. Instead of thinking (or not thinking) that the hose may belong to a vacuum or where this vacuum may be, I thought this. “I have everything in front of me right now to end this torture that I don’t understand.”

That thought led to my second thought, well, more of a question, “Who will find me dead?”

I can't quite determine what prevented me from doing that.

I reflect on that critical moment in my life. I then close my eyes and envision what my life would have been if I did hook that hose up to the exhaust.

First of all, there would be no life. I wouldn’t feel or think anything.

Of course, it would have affected the people in my life more. I think of my parents. Their son killed himself and they would not know why. They would have buried their first born. I also believe that I would be less of a burden in their life. They would have had their time of grieving then wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. This was a common thought during my times of thinking about suicide. It is a hard thought to get rid of. My illness makes this thought seem logical. All the points are valid.

I honestly, not because I want to, but because sometimes I struggle with my thoughts, think that my son would be completely fine without me. He would not understand what happened to me at his age, or any age for that matter.. Here is how my mind justifies this claiming thought; if I killed myself, how would that be any different than me leaving and not be in his life at all? My thoughts make me believe it would be more cowardly and make me less of a human being by being alive and never seeing him as oppose to killing myself.

I do not try to have these thoughts. I cannot avoid them or pretend they do not exist. These are the types of hurtful and damaging thoughts that create a network of tormenting ideas or beliefs.

Then how would my friends be? They would be fine. Being gone would hurt at first, but they would be fine. It’s simple as that. I am sure they would miss me. Life goes on, but not for me.

I often think of that moment seeing the hose.

Ironically, as I write this, it is a day or two before #WorldSuicidePreventionDay.

I was so close. So close that I almost wrote a lengthy suicide note.

If I wanted it bad enough, I would have done it.

But something stopped me.

Some people ask me, “Why didn’t you do it?”

To be honest, I don’t have a clear and concise answer. All I know is I did not kill myself, so to me, it doesn’t matter what actually stopped me.

Maybe it was my son, my family, my friends, or none of the above. I do remember a few tears, though. Leaving them all behind made me sad, but at that point sadness and being numb was what I was accustomed too.

The reasons don’t matter in this situation. Just the result. The result is, I am still alive.

So much has happened and so much time has passed since that day in 2015. I still find myself searching for the answer that prevented me from killing myself.

As I said a few sentences ago, I do not have the ‘distinct’ reason. But I now have an idea of what was a part of saving me.

The word is etched into my skin.

Hope.

Hope can be defined many ways. I like this definition, “Grounds for believing that something good may happen.”

Hope comes in many forms. Some believe it is not a physical thing. Maybe I believed that once as well. Then I see my son and everything he has become. That’s hope in the physical form.

Emotionally, hope can be everything to a person. Hope could be a thought or feeling. Hope is also very real to me. “Hope is the dreams of a waking man.” (Not my words). Hope has made me smile, laugh, and cry.

Hope is being in a psychiatric unit in southwest Nova Scotia not having the will to take a drink of water or a bite of food because life seems pointless, but still being able to breathe. Each breath breathes hope.

Hope is having your parents come visit you every day in the hospital or calling you every day just to hear your voice to know you’re still alive.

Hope is sharing your struggle with your friends and have them stay by your side, no matter what kind of mess I may be in.

Hope is hearing from complete strangers that they also have their troubles and that I have helped them by not giving up myself. That I have inspired them to ‘keep on keepin’ on’.

Hope is the main ingredient for battling suicide. For me, hope came in many forms. It will be different for each person. It doesn't matter what form it may take. It is important that you have it.

Personally, I am a big believer of hope because I have seen its power first hand. I was at the bottom of the pit by myself. I lived in the darkness and suffered through a lot of my life, to no fault of my family, friends, or myself. And you may not know when you will find hope. You may not even know you found it, like I did that day in the garage. It's like a relationship; it doesn't matter who finds who first, it matters that you found each other.

Having depression is like being in quicksand, it slowly sucks the life from you. You may be able to fight it and keep your body from being devoured by the Earth. But once you feel you are getting out of the quicksand, it immediately reminds you of the power that it has to suck you down again. And so, it does. Suicide is quitting when the quicksand keeps dragging you down, and you let it.

Hope, on the other hand, is continuing to fight, no matter how many times that quicksand may pull you down. You decide if you want to fight your way back to the surface. You claw and scratch and kick for every inch and every breath. That fight inside of you? That is hope burning inside of you. Hoping that there is something better ahead. Hoping that if I can get out of this quicksand, life will be there for me. And so, it shall be.

The moral of the quicksand reference? I sometimes battle hourly, daily, weekly, monthly with thoughts of suicide in some way. Some days are very hard. I am down. But I have decided to keep fighting and not giving up. Hope guides me and gives me strength.

I hope to see my son graduate his first year of school.

I hope to fall in love someday.

I hope I can work a job that I love.

I hope I can repay my friends and family for holding me up while I wanted to fall.

I hope we win our first game of the hockey season.

Regardless of the magnitude or importance of the ‘hope’, they all give me purpose and a meaningful life.

I have many hopes and I will not realize any of them if I give up.

I decided to not give up. So, can you.

As long as you have a breath, you have hope. 

Find your hope and never give up.

Hope prevented my suicide from becoming a reality.

Happy World Suicide Prevention Day!

"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness."

                                                            - Desmond Tutu

Yours Truly,

T.J. Smith