You, Super Hero

 A couple weeks ago, I had the thought that I hadn't really followed up with just how I was doing after my last blog post. I had heard from a good number of people, particularly co-workers expressing sympathy, empathy, and a surprising amount of gratitude for having spoke out about my troubles with depression and alcohol. I thought then that I should give an update saying I am doing well and that everything was going marvelously. It seemingly was, but after 78 days sober I fell off the wagon. Fell off the wagon and hit every branch on the way down, if I may mix metaphors.

Humbling. "That isn't going to be me! I've got this thing licked! I'm not like other people who inevitably go back to drinking." I'm sure all those people tell themselves the same thing. There is a lot of shame, A LOT, not only when you can't keep a promise to yourself, but can't keep one to people who love you and people who believe in you. And you wake up the next morning with your head pounding and sweating out whatever water still remains in your body and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.

So you start a new streak. 

Every day we are afforded new opportunities. We can wake up with that hangover and we can choose to pour ourselves a screwdriver, a little hair of the dog, to make it through, or we can steel ourselves, make ourselves better and fight on. We can choose to procrastinate that task we just don't want to do one more day, or we can roll up our sleeves, get up on that ladder, and finally get those Christmas lights put away. (Am I getting too specific here?) 

They called my grandparents' generation the Greatest Generation. Why was that? They lived through one if not two world wars, a Great Depression, a bunch of other depressions or recessions that weren't so great, and a Cold War. They weren't great for not making mistakes, but man, they sure owned up to them. (As a generation, I mean. Individual results may vary.)

There are still a lot of people hurting from this pandemic. A lot of people I know feel pretty isolated. A lot of people who are angry and a lot of people who are sad. Keep reaching out to people. Your super power might be as simple as texting someone that you are thinking about them. Something so simple can save a life.

Man's Search for Meaning

 I spent last weekend in the hospital, a psychiatric center to be more precise, for "suicidal ideation". First of all, I'm okay, am back home, and am in an intensive outpatient program getting the help I need. In the words of Robin Williams playing the role of John Keating in "Dead Poets Society", let me dispel a few rumors so they don't fester into facts. (Not that I think there are rumors flying about, but I just like the opportunity to quote that movie.) I did not hurt myself nor anyone else. I did not attempt to hurt myself nor anyone else. I was severely depressed exacerbated by drinking too much the night before. I did not know what to do and Jen did not know what to do, so I asked her to take me to the Emergency Room. No psychotic break, no craziness per se, just overwhelming depression, and I knew I needed professional help.

I'm afraid to post this anywhere. I am afraid of what my family will think. This isn't the first time my close family has witnessed this struggle with me, but mostly they are much further away now. I am afraid of what friends and acquaintances will think. I've burned or singed a number of friendships in the past by throwing alcohol on smoldering depression. I'm afraid of what of what my coworkers will think, particularly those I support as a manager. Coincidentally, or perhaps not so coincidentally, last Thursday I attended a meeting through Nordstrom keynoted by the CEO of the National Alliance on Mental Illness, Dan Gillison. The idea was that though there is still a strong stigma with mental health, we need to provide a work environment where it is safe to admit you live with a mental illness, whether it is the employee themselves or someone they care for. I'm also looking at the "Nordstrom Competencies" and smack in the middle are two: "Has Courage" and "Develops People". So I think it is important to admit that I live with chronic depression.

While I am not ready to discuss details of my own experiences, including those of the last week, I want to turn this into something ultimately positive. I know people are struggling with working at home, maybe with a job change, maybe just not being able to see friends and family, maybe with this upcoming election that seems to have everyone depressed. Looking back now I realize what a dark place I was in, but it was as if someone just gradually dimmed the lights over the past six or seven months since the Covid lockdowns began. If you are in a similar place I encourage you to reach out to family, friends, or a crisis hotline. I have to admit I've used those in the past, and the people on the other side of the line are very good at just listening.

I'm sorry. I am not apologizing that I have this disease or that I ended up in the hospital because of it. I am sorry because I knew I had a problem, and I thought I could deal with it on my own. I thought I was better than every other person that has had to deal with depression and alcoholism, and that wasn't fair to my wife, to my family, to the friends I lost, to the friends that stuck by me, and to my work. I am fortunate and glad I have people who do stick by me and glad I have the means to fight to get better. There are people out there who don't. Send up a prayer for them.