"I’ve written this same sentence about ten times at this point, trying to figure out how to start and tell my story, or even if my story is worth telling. I work in an environment where outwardly the message is mental health is critical and it is important to be open and seek help, but the reality is very different. The message is performative only and the reality for the longest time has been that mental health issues have a stigma, that is changing, but as the saying goes “the axe forgets, but the tree remembers”. My mental health struggle goes back at least 15 years, to my first Afghanistan deployment, I’ve had other deployments since that time, but that I’ve always kept myself busy enough that I’ve never had to deal with my own issues, always someone else’s, but never my own.
Not to long after my first tour, my wife had a bad case of Post Partum, couple that with an already diagnosed anxiety issue, it was difficult times. She’s from Eastern Europe, and culturally mental health is weakness, not a medical issue that needs treatment. I watched her as she refused to get help, there would be periods of calmness, but then the issues would come back, and often worse. There were episodes of extreme anger, self harm, suicide attempts, and a despair that you never want to see in someone you love. Eventually she got help, both for herself and our family, and she has been doing much better, I don’t think it’s anything you’re ever cured from, but something she is aware of, and we work together on every day.
Then there’s me, as I sit here writing, I realize I’m doing everything to avoid writing about myself. That’s the funny thing about my career, you’re taught to look out for everyone around you, recognize the signs of when help is required, when to be proactive and get help. I’ve recognized it in my wife, in people who have worked for me that were in crisis, but never in myself, possibly because I didn’t want to admit to myself there was a problem, or I just wasn’t being honest with myself. It all came to ahead after my last deployment, I don’t know if I hit rock bottom, but I came close.
I remember when my wife was going through her issues, she had described depression in that it wasn’t that she was sad, it was numbness mixed with feelings of rage. Looking back, I had been living like that for almost two decades, and it was just getting worse. For almost 15 years I had been self medicating, the only times I had gotten a full night’s sleep was because I was under the influence of one chemical or another. That numbness my wife had explained, I was feeling to, first just a little, but then more and more. It eventually felt like I was in a fog, and only experiencing the shadows of life, no enjoyment, no happiness, just outlines of existence. It had gotten to the point that I would self harm just to feel something, to have scars to remind me of feeling just something. I was detached from my family, and at several times was at the point where I wanted to end the struggle. I’ve fought my whole life, in sports, work, it was something that defined my life and I was tired, I didn’t want to fight anymore, I wanted to just go to sleep and never wake up.
As my behaviour was becoming more self destructive, my dependencies becoming more consuming, and worse of all I was pulling away more and more from my wife and kids, it came to ahead. I started having more breakdowns or anxiety attacks, and eventually my wife made the same pleas to me that I made to her years earlier. I don’t know why, but I remember having another crisis moment one day in my office and it was that point that I was either going to drive head-on into an 18 wheeler, or finally get help…..from the outside the decision should have been easy, but I was paralyzed staring between my phone and my car keys. After an hour I called help.
Since then, things are better. Most people wouldn’t have guessed I was suffering, outwardly I was happy, always helping others, seemed like everything was going right, obviously it wasn’t. I’m in regular therapy and some medications, but it’s going better. Am I cured? like my wife, I don’t think I ever will be. I have memories that I still need to confront and I’m not always happy, but at least I’m feeling a full range of emotions. I’m reconnected, and in a lot of ways, more strongly connected with my family. I’ve re-prioritized a lot of things in life, and although I’m not always happy, I’m content and according to my therapist, wiser. Most of all, I’ve learned this is a fight I don’t have to face alone, and I have a lot to live for. To think I’d miss my kids growing up, or growing old with my wife (even if she does mess with my workout music playlist at times) is scary, but I think it shows how far down the rabbit hole I was and how far I’ve come. I don’t know if there is any lesson in my story, or if it is just for my own therapeutic purposes to get more comfortable sharing (my therapist is impressed with my avoidance skills, I’m trying to work on that), but I hope it can help someone. You may not recognize symptoms in yourself, but if your loved ones are giving you warnings, take those warnings seriously before they are no longer your loved ones. Life may be hard because you have a big load to carry, but you don’t always have to carry it by yourself, and there is always someone there ready to help, so please take that help, because the longer you wait, the harder it is to accept it."
-Mike
