Anxious, apathetic, ashamed, sad, scared, suffering, stupid, helpless, hopeless, useless, exhausted, hateful, hurt, indifferent, depressed, depraved, defeated, melancholy, lost, fed up, finished. These are all feelings that you’ll read a lot about as you make your way through this blog. And for many people, these feelings rob the joy, passion, and lifeblood from their existences, each day. These feelings poke at you. They suffocate, bury, beat and torment you into submission. They follow you and confirm the worthlessness that your brain has bullied you into believing. Some start to wonder why they’ve stuck around for so long. They’ve reached their precipice, the cliff’s edge. And, as pebbles slip down the harrowing drop, bouncing off the sheer rock and losing sound the further they plummet, a crossroad has been met. You can crumble and fall, or you can turn and push back against the dark powers that chip away at your soul.
We’re not all given the necessary skills to successfully navigate our way through the unknown frontiers that each of our lives hold. We have different perspectives, different histories and different realities that were shaped by our childhoods, past experiences, as well as, by our DNA. Our unique lives flow like the floodwater tributaries of a swollen river, criss-crossing and braiding in our own direction and pace. Your river has brought you here, in this moment, reading these words.
One thing that we all share in common is an internal battle. Some battles are more prominent and challenging than others. And, while some of us have been afforded the necessary tools to fight the enemies of the mind, others must work for those tools.
Somehow, life brought you to the point of frustration and helplessness. You’ve been broken down. Your weary bones, worn-out body, and tired mind desperately claw for rest, reprieve, silence; an ending. “Give up,” your brain monotonously preaches. “What’s the point?” It grumbles and gripes. You’re so down-trodden, disoriented and dulled that these words ring like freedom, a quick-release, an eject button for pain relief. But, something in you has kept you from throwing in the towel. That’s why you’re here, now. Maybe it’s only a spark, a kitten’s roar, a light breeze, or a pebble’s splash, but it’s there. It lays within the deepest atoms of your being. It’s one tiny seed in a forest full of colossal trees. This is where your story starts anew.
In order for that little seed to grow, it must be cared for and loved. It needs a watchful eye and a sharp-sighted warden. It flourishes with attention, affection, and words of encouragement. Like all trees, your beginning will be weak. There will be cloudy days without much growth. Storms will come and go, testing the strength of your roots and limbs. External and internal pests will try to devour you. But, with enough sun, support and nourishment, you will find that your growth will be unrelenting and triumphant. With enough self-care and help from your forest family, you will rise from the earth, surpass the shadowy canopy and reach heights that you never thought possible. Grow, little one, and never look back.
To find peace and redemption from anxiety and depression, one must hit a turning point. Call it that “rock-bottom” moment. Mine came in the aftermath of a broken and lost relationship, along with a delve into alcoholism as a self-prescribed treatment for a life that I unknowingly hated. I say “unknowingly,” because I had been numbed for so long that I didn’t even recognize the fact that I had been burying myself for a very long time.
I spent over 10 years as a forest engineer. Simply put, my job was to hike through dense, remote forests, mapping and planning areas for harvest. In the beginning, it was physically challenging and rewarding. Flying in helicopters, encounters with wolves, cougars and bears, and getting exercise in some of the most beautiful places that my home had to offer. Unfortunately, after a few years, I started getting that “stuck” feeling. And, even though I was surrounded by natural beauty, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees anymore. There was no more time to bask in the views of an old-growth ecosystem or to enjoy the company of the resident animals. I was too busy trying to find my way to the weekend so I could get drunk and forget about how much I disliked the trajectory my life was on. And, instead of changing and pushing my boundaries, I took the easy road. Resistance, goals and personal growth were the monsters hiding under my bed and alcohol was the lullaby that helped me ignore them.
As the cycle of being unhappy with my work life and drinking to forget, continued, my relationship with someone whom I loved very much, inevitably began to crumble. My denial towards my problems and unwillingness to change, drove a massive wedge between us, and soon I was alone, broken and hopeless. I selfishly lit a match to my end of the relationship, watched it burn and pissed on the ashes. The termination of said relationship wasn’t necessarily the cause of my depression, but it was the final nail. The demise of my mental health was a long time coming.
Forget, neglect, deny. These were my quick fixes for the things that gnawed and scraped at my insides each day. I didn’t have the know-how, mental capacity or motivation to repair my broken brain. So, deeper I descended. It was always easier to pretend that my problems didn’t exist. Like a mafia goon, I could strap concrete blocks to my fears and drop them into the murky depths of a cold lake. But, soon enough, they would rot, bloat, and rise back to the top, more disgusting and haunting than ever before.
As the masses of putrid bodies began to wash up on the shores of my mind, there was no more ignoring the stench. Change or perish, were my only two options. Early in 2017, I was hijacked by thoughts of suicide. The “Check Engine” light for my brain had been flashing for way too long and I was on a fast track to the eternal junkyard. I was blowing off work, family, and friends because I didn’t want to leave my house. I wanted to be around people, but I didn’t want to pretend I was okay. At this point, I had been sober for over a year. A strong accomplishment, but a drop in the bucket compared to the improvements that I still had to make. I lacked a healthy environment, goals, and positive connection. I isolated myself because I was ashamed of what I had become. When the deleterious thoughts became a relative mainstay, I knew I was reaching a point of no return.
There were many days that I battled with the idea of taking prescription pills for my afflictions. I heard many testimonies both full of success, as well as horror. I read up on the side effects and what to expect. I looked at the stats and listened to experts. When my mental illnesses reached their boiling points, I gave in. I had already established a regimen of alternative treatments, but I felt like I wasn’t gaining enough traction. I wondered if I had just wasted years of my life trying to figure this out on my own, when I could’ve just taken the pills and gotten it over with. I went to my doctor and got prescriptions for antidepressants and mild sedatives for anxiety, but something in me wasn’t ready to take that path. I went as far as filling those prescriptions, and to this day, those bottles remain unopened. That decision ensured that I would be walking a tightrope between healthy and self-destructive for the foreseeable future.
Late in 2017, I quit my job. My health was in dire shape. I lost weight, wasn’t eating or sleeping. I had given up my sobriety because my suicidal thoughts had me convinced that I was just biding time until my inevitable ending. I probably looked like I had been hiding in a bomb shelter for the past 9 years. My anxious and depressed brain was winning the battle and I needed an escape.
I had some money saved up and sold my truck (my only possession worth anything.) So, I packed my shit and left to South America with a one-way ticket. For the next 2 months, I traveled through various countries with a cousin, believing that abandoning my problems back home would be my saving grace. Man, was I wrong. I had to have been the worst travel partner. I hid my anxiety in an attempt to not be a bummer. This resulted in me being distant and removed from most conversations and experiences. Along with this, my depression had me wanting to stay in bed or isolated, even though I was in the middle of a memorable trip of a lifetime. After 2 months, I returned home somewhat refreshed and motivated as my cousin carried on without me. I stepped off that plane on home soil and right back into the shit storm that was patiently waiting for me.
2018 was a write-off. When you’re depressed, every pin prick is a dagger, every staircase a mountain. Meaning, every failure is magnified to great extents. You didn’t do you laundry today? You must be a piece of shit. You forgot to take out the garbage? You are garbage. You get the idea. So, each defeat in my line of sight tore me down and trampled me like a pissed off bull to a bull rider. I spent almost the entire year completely lost. I took a chance at building a small woodworking business but lacked the motivation to help it grow. I had no other training than forestry and couldn’t fathom returning to my old job. I could barely muster up the ability to get out of bed, let alone envision myself at any job. So, 2018 rattled by. I acquired some training to be a Wildland Firefighter, but I was too late. The season was in full force and all crews were hired. At the tail end of the season, I got about a month of work as a Wildfire Medic and something shifted inside of my head.
I put a lot of effort into firefighting in a short period of time. More effort than I had expelled in the last 3 years. Over a month of classroom training, about 6 months of physical training, resumes, phone calls, emails, interviews, failures, and letdowns. All of these situations were soaked with anxiety, but I pushed through. It wasn’t until I was driving halfway across the province, to a job with a company that I knew nothing about, and an owner who I never met in person, in a field that I was just recently trained in, that required medical thinking and abilities to treat injuries to people fighting forest fires, that I realized what I was accomplishing. I was no longer listening to the shitty little voice in my head that constantly badgered me and told me I was worthless. I sat in my truck and smiled my way through the province and willingly into the unknown. The next month was life changing. I had no anxiety, I saw new places, met new people, learned new skills. I had worked every day without a day off and I felt like I could go for another 3 months without seeing home. This was my transitional point.
From that fire season forward, I finally understood the importance of failing in order to grow and the necessity of pushing past the things that make you feel uncomfortable. I’ll save 2019 for another post because it’s just the beginning. In closing, I want to share with you my reason for creating this blog.
It's been about five years since I started displaying anxious and depressive symptoms, the first year I wasn’t even aware of until many subsequent years of introspection, counseling, and education about mental health. This blog is about my five-year journey into, and my ongoing battle out of, anxiety and depression. My hope is to explain what people with anxiety and depression go through on a daily basis, so that people who haven’t experienced these illnesses can gain an idea of what it might be like. More importantly, I’m joining the masses of courageous people who have decided to throw away their fears of judgment by going public about mental health, in hopes that it will help the people who aren’t yet ready to talk. Throughout upcoming blog posts, I will give my story as well as techniques, successes and a ton of failures that helped me realize the path that I was on, while breaking trail for the path that leads to survival, fulfillment and redemption.