tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57843553296177571612024-02-07T23:20:49.544-06:00One Man's WarThis is my blog about dealing with depression and anxiety. I share my story to give others hope and help me cope.Jack Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01517637757539651513noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-78651213098345050882017-04-16T18:06:00.001-05:002017-04-17T16:38:29.368-05:00The Last Blog<h4>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>By Jack Smith</b></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">God must have a sense of humor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He sent a red bird, of all things, to save my life. You’d have to be an Auburn man to understand the irony.<br />I was stretched out on a sofa in a modest apartment at Skyland Trail in Atlanta, watching some inane daytime TV show, the kind people who don’t have careers like I had get to watch. It had been another long day of mindfulness meditations, music therapy and memory exercises.This routine had become my life.<br />Facing divorce and a future that was uncertain at best, I had been miserable my first month at the world-class treatment center. But I was beginning to feel a little better. The fighter in me was making a comeback.<br />Despite my progress, I was still tired and frustrated. I was a zombie in a pharmaceutical fog most of the day, worn down from shock treatments that rebooted my brain but left me with black holes in my memory. My spirit had been choked out of me by the heavy albatross of guilt from a second suicide attempt that cost me everything except the one thing I had hoped to lose. My life.<br />I was growing impatient with the side effects from the meds, which made my hands shake more than usual. Taking handfuls of lithium, mood stabilizers and antidepressants does that to some people. For patients like me with a familial tremor, it can be a nightmare. Some tasks are difficult; others are humiliating.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.24px;"><b>THE COLOR OF LIFE</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.24px;">The worst part of it all? The color of life had faded away.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.24px;">And then he appeared. A beautiful cardinal landed on a tree just outside my window. It was a proud male with a strong beak and determined eyes behind his black mask. His crest was the most beautiful scarlet color I had ever seen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It w</span>as as if someone changed the television from black and white to the most vivid color imaginable. After a long visit, the cardinal finally flew away. In the days that followed, I stared out the window hoping to see him again. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: -0.24px;">The tranquil grounds outside our apartments were alive with the colors and sounds of spring. And they suddenly looked different.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had never noticed how beautiful the pink azaleas, white dogwoods and yellow flowers that reminded me of home really were.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The cardinal came back the next day and the day after that. I shared this story with my counselor, and she told me to never forget that moment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Why?,” I asked her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Because that’s the moment you saw color again for the first time in a long time,” she said. “Maybe that cardinal was a sign for you, Jack.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nearly three years later, I still believe the cardinal was no coincidence. God sent him to help me keep hope alive. It was a sign: If I kept trusting Him, I would be okay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Inspired by my fellow patients and encouraged by the amazing staff at Skyland Trail, I kept getting better. The fog of depression finally began to lift with the help of changing meds and therapy, but it took more than the right cocktail of drugs. It took the fighting spirit deep in my bones that had been dormant for too damn long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Slowly but surely, the warrior inside of me made a comeback. I had been flat on my face on the mat when I arrived at Skyland Trail, pummeled by a cruel disease and crushed by the painful realities I faced after my discharge.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the early weeks of treatment, it seemed like life could not get any worse. Then one day, I made a decision. I was determined to get up off the mat, knowing the menacing heavyweight would be there waiting for me to pull myself up by the ropes, daring me to stay in the ring.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.24px;">That’s what millions of people fighting depression and serious mental illness face every day. Major Depressive Disorder is like a boxer who never tires. It often slips out of the shadows and sneaks up behind you, starting with a sucker punch to the kidneys.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Left untreated, depression can beat the life out of you. And it hurts. Mentally, physically and emotionally. My heart breaks every time I talk to someone who is suffering. Depressed fathers who feel they have failed and fear telling anyone they are struggling. </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.24px;">Anxious wives who believe they are somehow failing their husbands and their children. Struggling teenagers and college students overcome with angst and stress. I’ve met them all.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve learned a lot about pain and suffering from my own experiences and from those who’ve been brave enough to share their stories with me. I’m grateful to God for them and the lessons suffering has taught me. Suffering brought me closer to the cross. For that reason alone, I would not change anything about my journey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suffering and the perseverance that came from it taught me another critical lesson: The pain of depression is only temporary. If you hold on long enough, the storms we all face eventually give way to sunshine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Surviving those dark days helped me realize the battle will be won, either in this life or the next.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It also taught me nothing is more hurtful than losing hope. Hopelessness leaves us empty inside. It sucks the marrow of life right out of our bones. It takes away our God-given urge to fight that lies deep within us all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I recently read “Wild at Heart,” a book by John Eldredge, for the second time. I would highly recommend it to any man who feels lost or weak or bored by life. The author poses the central question all men face: “Am I really a man? Have I got what it takes when it counts?” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; text-align: center;">Reading the book again reminded me the fighting spirit I possess was put there by God. He designed me to be more than a nice guy who skates through a dull existence, avoiding risks while fearing danger.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He created me to come through when it counts, even though there are times when I struggle and falter and wonder why it has to be so hard. As Eldredge writes, He created hearts full of passion and a lust for adventure in us all. The hard part is embracing who we were created to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m still on that journey. I still fall down from time to time, but fear seldom stops me from taking risks or choosing to fight when the battle is on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I fight because that’s who God made me to be. He gave all of us the strength and capacity to be warriors. Read the book of Ephesians. He promised us if we suit up in the Armor of God every day, we can win any battle we face, no matter how long the odds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>THE REST OF THE STORY</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a medallion I cherish and a semicolon tattooed on my left ankle. I got the tattoo on my 45th birthday. It was a promise I made to myself—even though I knew my mother would not like it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The medallion I carried in my pocket is engraved with a warrior suited up in armor given to him by God. The inscription includes the powerful words from Ephesians that strengthen me when my spirit grows weary. It reminds me I’m a warrior when I have God on my side. It was given to me by a good friend who has helped me time and again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, there are days I still get knocked down. But most of the time, I no longer try and pick myself up off the mat by myself. I rely on my faith, family, friends and the fighter deep within me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And about that semicolon tattoo. It means my story isn’t over. There is more to come, maybe the best part. If you or a loved one suffering</span><span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: -0.24px;"> from mental illness is losing hope, don’t despair. Ask God to help you through it not one day but one hour at a time. He will provide the strength you need.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember “The Shawshank Redemption?” It’s one of my favorite movies of all time. Do you recall what Red says to Andy in the prison yard? “Hope,” he says while pulling a toothpick from his mouth and pointing it at his friend, “is a dangerous thing.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t agree. Hope is all we have when the ox is in the ditch and there is no one there to help us pull it out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me tell you the part Hollywood doesn’t like to talk about. Without faith, there can be no hope. My faith saved me from despair. I believe with all my heart God sent that cardinal to perch on the tree just outside my window.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve seen hundreds of cardinals since, and they always remind me to never lose hope again. I could tell you countless amazing stories about times I’ve seen cardinals when I needed a nudge to keep moving, a spark to keep the fire in my heart burning. Several prayer warriors close to me can tell you stories about cardinals they saw while they were praying for me or wondering how I was doing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="letter-spacing: -0.24px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><span style="letter-spacing: -0.24px;"><b>IT'S ILLNESS, NOT WEAKNESS</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety disorders and other forms of mental illness are medical conditions just like cancer or diabetes. So please hear and understand this point.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Faith alone is not sufficient to treat mental illness. I’m still troubled by surveys showing half of all Christian pastors don’t believe it is a sickness. They apparently think if we just pray hard enough, we don’t need doctors or real medicine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not sure what they actually believe, but I know the church needs to wake up and care for the countless people in their own pews suffering in silence. I can tell you that from experience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I pray that all those who may be suffering and wondering why they can’t get better without help will know and remember this: Mental illness is not weakness. It is sickness. And it requires proper medical and therapeutic treatment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So please, if you are hurting, get help. Take the hardest step—the first one— by telling a friend or loved one. It will make you feel better.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I’m retiring this blog, my humble efforts to try and help people will never end. This blog has been a blessing and a burden, but I’ve met or talked to countless people who need a little help. And a lot of hope. I just wish I had more time to be there for those who need it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those who courageously reached out to me as a result of the blog have helped me more than they will ever know. That’s what happens when we share our stories with people who can really understand them—those who have walked in the heavy shoes of misery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still believe what I’ve written before. Secrets lose the power to hurt us when we drag them into the light. That is why we must fight stigma until it no longer exists. We need to continue the progress made toward a less judgmental and more compassionate culture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>VICTORY</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On a chilly morning not long ago, I was enjoying a fresh cup of coffee on my back porch. The mug warmed my hands while I sat quietly and listened to the birds. The red wind chimes hanging from above tinkled as a light wind whispered through the naked trees, the pale yellow sun rising in the distance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I paid $5 for those wind chimes at Dollar General, but they are priceless to me. The wind chimes were not an impulse purchase like some of the random items I often bring home from my favorite discount store.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love Dollar General. Shopping there makes me feel like a regular person just trying to make it in the world like everyone else pushing around buggies weighed down by so much more than groceries. I often wonder about their stories.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seeing the wind chimes I wasn’t looking for was not a random occurrence. It was a sign from God. You see, the first one hanging on the rack had a red cardinal made of cheap stained glass perched on top of the chimes. Some might say it’s tacky. I say it has eternal value.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now every time the wind blows, I remember what may be the most important moment of my life. I remember what the cardinal means to me. Hope. Hope for peace and happiness. Hope for lasting love and an abundant life. Those dreams have begun to become true in my life. That is a miracle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve fought enough battles to know every day won’t be easy. When I started this blog, I wasn’t sure what to name it. I settled on “One Man’s War.” I had it half right. It is a war. It will never fully go away. But I no longer fight it alone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will win it one way or the other, because like Roman soldiers who hooked their shields together for battle, I now fight it with the help of others. And an Almighty and Everlasting God who will never forsake me.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px; font-variant-ligatures: normal; letter-spacing: -0.24px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I took another sip of coffee and drank in the beauty of that winter morning, knowing spring will soon arrive. The rich Arabica blend with a touch of sweet cream made me think.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-size: 14px; font-variant-ligatures: normal; letter-spacing: -0.24px; margin-top: 6px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is what victory tastes like. Thanks be to God.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
Jack Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01517637757539651513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-74245041411345716622016-12-07T09:49:00.001-06:002016-12-07T09:50:33.122-06:00Peace in the storm<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;"><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Jack Smith</span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;"><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ever flip open the Bible and land on a verse you desperately needed that moment? Happened to me today. I want to share it with anyone who's struggling or suffering. It's helped me many times.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">When the storms come, I eventually quit praying for them to go away, and I starting praying for peace in the storm. It seems to help.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;">My heart is with my friends who are hurting today. Friends I know and friends not yet made. May you find peace in the storm. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;">"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">James 1:2-4</span></span>Jack Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01517637757539651513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-30530286228514773422016-11-29T13:20:00.000-06:002017-03-13T15:58:04.254-05:00Let's talk about youth suicide before it's too late<div>
<span style="font-family: -webkit-standard;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><img alt="undefined" src="https://bloximages.newyork1.vip.townnews.com/oanow.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/2/73/2730662e-b5f3-11e6-9774-ab8352a616b8/583d0fd219c8b.image.jpg?crop=1510,895,0,0&resize=300,178&order=crop,resize" style="height: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; width: 100%;" /></span></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">By Jack Smith</span></span></b><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Talking about suicide doesn't increase the risk of suicide.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But we need to talk about it in the right way. And we need to talk about it with our teenagers. Before it's too late.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Suicide breaks hearts. It rips families apart. It devastates friends. And it damages children. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That's the dark reality of suicide, which isn't poetic at all. It's grim and it's cold and it's sad.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ending stigma is part of the challenge, but we have to do more than just talk about suicide. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We have to talk about our fears. Our anxiety. Our hurts and our brokenness.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When we bury those emotions for some who struggle with mood disorders, we plant the seeds of suicide along with them.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That's why it's important to begin a healthy discussion with our young people now. </span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">They need to know it's okay to struggle. They need to know it's okay to ask for help. They need to know an episode of depression or failure or disappointment doesn't have to be the end.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They need to know feelings aren't facts. They're just feelings. And they pass like a night storm that brings wind and rain but is gone before dawn.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I deeply appreciate Auburn City Schools being proactive on this issue and encouraging my daughter and I to <a href="http://www.oanow.com/news/auburn/ahs-confidential-club-gets-students-talking-about-mental-health/article_fbccdf08-b5f2-11e6-880d-6718da06c4a7.html?utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook&utm_campaign=user-share" target="_blank">share our story.</a> And I could not be proude</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">r of her. When we make ourselves vulnerable and share our stories, secrets and stigma lose the power to hurt us. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thank you Dr. Karen DeLano, Dr. Shannon Pignato (a gifted and compassionate educator who cares about all of her students) and Joy Stanley.</span></span><br />
<div>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I'm especially grateful for Chris Hardman and Daniel Chesser for their professionalism and compassion shown throughout this series...and most of all for their care and concern for the students of Auburn High School.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Suicide is now the second leading cause of death for young people. And it's by far the most preventable.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But only if we have the courage to be vulnerable and start talking.</span><br />
<br /></div>
Jack Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01517637757539651513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-41864355819453683342016-11-03T19:02:00.000-05:002016-11-04T11:06:48.000-05:00Trump: Draining the swamp or poisoning the well?<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This blog is
probably not the place for politics.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But as someone who
has seen people who are already struggling stung by the insensitive things people say about mental illness,</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I think the level of public
discourse matters.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Words matter. T</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">he labels we use matter. The way we talk to people matters.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So does
civility. And kindness. And compassion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sadly, this
election has been like a really bad referee in a rivalry basketball game inside
a cramped and hostile gym. The adults have let the atmosphere get too heated
and toxic. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Reason is
failing, and tempers are flaring. And somebody’s going to get hurt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When this
election is over, my sincere hope is we can return to a basic level of civility
in this country.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As someone who
studies history and enjoys politics, I’ve observed that much of the vitriol in tough
elections is typically directed from one </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">candidate</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
to the other.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Usually, angry
candidates direct their hostility at their <i>opponents</i>, not the voters. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Never before
have I seen so much hate and anger aimed not at an opposing candidate but squarely
at the people the President of the United States is supposed to represent:
Women. The disabled. Hispanics. The overweight. African-Americans. Entire
religions. Immigrants. Reporters. War heroes. Republican Congressmen. Even local
elections officials across the nation, who apparently rigged the election weeks
before it took place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbyMb6wQf0fz-7llSE9Zq0Y1_0zlVXPoUEH1_O4cMn5TK8VV2az098qmReH00I_Pe6S-rRW8hu83cf5HxFUiuxPX7V2ghHJzvpxEb-yn0yjZqYAKDn2Nvh11jeO9TuhbnHd2FCf6sYjs/s1600/56e4b0dd1e00008700703eea.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbyMb6wQf0fz-7llSE9Zq0Y1_0zlVXPoUEH1_O4cMn5TK8VV2az098qmReH00I_Pe6S-rRW8hu83cf5HxFUiuxPX7V2ghHJzvpxEb-yn0yjZqYAKDn2Nvh11jeO9TuhbnHd2FCf6sYjs/s320/56e4b0dd1e00008700703eea.jpeg" title="" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It’s ironic
that Donald Trump draws cheers when he chants, “Drain the swamp!” </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mr. Trump has so
thoroughly poisoned the well of decency and diminished the greatness of
democracy it may take generations for the pendulum to swing back to some level
of normalcy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And there will be consequences. There are always are. As the
pendulum swings back to the vital center where most of us actually live, the standards
of decency that make us a civilized people will continue to be knocked down
like pins at a bowling alley on $2 pitcher night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It really is quite
unprecedented. And terrifying.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I’m fascinated
by the psychology of people who are able to so easily ascribe their anger to “the
government,” the Mexicans or the Clintons, while simultaneously failing to show
an ability to articulate with any specificity or clarity why they hate them so
much, or what a credible solution might be, not counting lazy stereotypes, political
mythology or building walls.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Maybe that’s
why so many are falling for the notion that the entire game is rigged. All of
it, from the opposing coach and the referees to the bookkeeper and the company
that manufactured the game clock to the local newspaper that will write up the
fake results when the fixed game is over.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That’s another article
for another blog, but it would be fun to write “The Politics of Paranoia” or “The
Power of Hate.” Its premise could be Donald Trump’s entire presidential campaign, with pages and pages of footnotes of things
he </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">actually</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> said, tweeted or did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">People a lot
smarter than me have concerns like global instability or a devastating economic
malaise (based on his <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/economics/2016/11/01/prominent-economists-including-eight-nobel-laureates-do-not-vote-for-donald-trump/" target="_blank">economic plan’s review by scores of credible economists</a>)
if Mr. Trump is elected.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That’s out of
my wheelhouse, so I’ll stick to civility, our values and our already fragile
psyches, which so badly need a leader that can give us hope after sewing so
much fear and stoking so much hate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I would be
remiss if I didn’t briefly mention the candidates’ policies on mental health.
Check out both websites if you’re interested in issues other than deleted emails
and lewd tapes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I could’ve
written <a href="https://assets.donaldjtrump.com/HCReformPaper.pdf" target="_blank">Mr. Trump’s mental health plan</a> in five minutes while brushing my teeth.
Hillary Clinton actually has credibility on the issue and <a href="https://www.hillaryclinton.com/issues/mental-health/" target="_blank">serious policies</a> to
put forward that would give mental illness the attention it so desperately needs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">While coverage of preexisting conditions and equal treatment and
benefits for mental illness are all enormously important issues Mr. Trump could
care less about, an equally concerning issue is the erosion of lines our
leaders simply should not cross. Ever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Like openly inciting
violence. Or flippantly shrugging one’s shoulders at the notion of “Second
Amendment people” killing the opposition if we don’t like the final score. Or
putting them in jail without due process. Or calling reporters trying to do
their jobs “disgusting.” Or shamelessly mocking the disabled on national
television.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It feels as
though America has collectively become so desensitized to hate speech, threats
of violence and this idea that it’s okay for the powerful to humiliate the
powerless that we either barely notice or want to quickly forget when one makes
a statement so outrageous it would normally disqualify them from a presidential
race. Or most book clubs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yet because of
Donald Trump and those who willingly bathe in his toxic brew of hate, bullying
is not only back. It’s cheered as some perverse form of heroism.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Laugh if you
will, but can you imagine our playgrounds in a few years?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or cyberspace? </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">How big of a
setback will it be in the fight against cyberbullying if one of the biggest
cyberbullies in the history of Twitter is elected President of the United States?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What will
happen to young women in frat house bedrooms where those who revere Trump and
plaster his name all over their absurdly large trucks (that are never used to
actually haul anything) begin to take on his false macho persona or justify
their behavior with his?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Wasn’t that
what the fuss was all about from Evangelicals when Bill Clinton had oral sex in
the Oval Office? Do we not have the same concerns today?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Where are the
church leaders and fundamentalists who flip out about legalizing lotteries and what
they deem to be deviant sexual behavior? What does their absence say about the
state of morality in America today? Or leadership in general? Where is John C.
Maxwell when you need him?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or what about every
kitchen table in America? </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What if a man
who once said he gets furious if his wife doesn’t have dinner ready when he
gets home suddenly is the most watched man in the world with the biggest
microphone? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What kind of behavior will he model? What kind of language will he
use if he is no longer shackled by friends, handlers, family and focus groups
begging him to tone it down? How will that affect our children? Or broadcast
television standards? And why aren’t conservative Christians worked up about
that?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or what about
the halls of our junior high schools, jammed with kids with raging hormones who
don’t yet have good judgment? Will it be okay for the star quarterback to grab little
girls "by the pussy" (to quote Mr. Trump) and brag about it to the school paper? Will they be cheered?
Do those who support Trump not realize that’s exactly what they are doing?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And why is that
suddenly okay after it took decades for society to evolve to a place where
women on most levels and in most places were beginning to be respected?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We can justify
how we got here all we want. We can blame and be angry at Congress, our
changing demographics, the liberal media, aliens who don’t all have the right
papers and global economic realities that transformed America, the world and
the kind of jobs we now have available.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In other words,
we can be mad at reality.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But it’s not
healthy to be so angry we don’t even know who we’re actually mad at. Or why we’re
so pissed. History shows us that when demagogues use hate to inflame emotions
for political gain, common decency, common sense and the common good are
endangered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And all that
truly <i>does</i> make America great really is at risk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Donald Trump
has stoked the fires of racism, celebrated misogyny, mocked disabilities,
bragged about sexual assault and even graphically described the menstrual cycle
of smart professional women who dared challenge him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If we learn
Tuesday that all of that is acceptable to a plurality of Americans, what then? </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If a man running
for President of the United States has said these things under the scrutiny of
an election and the media he has threatened to censor, what will be said when he no longer needs our votes?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What will he
say to the leaders of foreign nations or the people they represent? How will
that affect their view of America as the great hope of the world? Isn’t that we
want America to be?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Let’s suppose
for a moment Mr. Trump wins the election.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Once the swamp
is drained and no monster is found, what then becomes of the bloodlust he created?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Where will the
anger of those he has so masterfully manipulated then be directed?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That's when labels
will be the least of our worries.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoZpLa1fzwM10AuxR3qL3aYZLU7uZdfEBbzD4d1YLUtJYMeIT-b90vB1tkTSg3aKKLjTofLhjPMElDDFwDEao81YLW8t-3ti2i_NerrUjQTnoedHK4AkRQsent9Jq48S3MSIRVKScDqg/s1600/donald-trump-rally-kids_850_652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOoZpLa1fzwM10AuxR3qL3aYZLU7uZdfEBbzD4d1YLUtJYMeIT-b90vB1tkTSg3aKKLjTofLhjPMElDDFwDEao81YLW8t-3ti2i_NerrUjQTnoedHK4AkRQsent9Jq48S3MSIRVKScDqg/s400/donald-trump-rally-kids_850_652.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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Jack Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01517637757539651513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-6961769826629738232016-06-30T17:18:00.000-05:002016-11-04T11:08:01.019-05:00Sports are like life: Encouragement works; yelling does not<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjMccYu0xJEGr2btYate1ikEMqydKejeVWyGUWefqfLtFFsVZwqgzBY_yaVgA3BJuAWqgYP4HvQ0fN-MCzP-WdQ2g13shK-xlcPj34Racidzk9yOCMifQfueiN47Y0hsXV48DhP60ymY/s1600/Manning+Smith+stealing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjMccYu0xJEGr2btYate1ikEMqydKejeVWyGUWefqfLtFFsVZwqgzBY_yaVgA3BJuAWqgYP4HvQ0fN-MCzP-WdQ2g13shK-xlcPj34Racidzk9yOCMifQfueiN47Y0hsXV48DhP60ymY/s320/Manning+Smith+stealing.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<div style="line-height: 14.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><b style="background-color: white;">By Jack Smith</b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><b style="background-color: white;"><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This has everything to do with mental
health and nothing to do with mental health. Publishing here because several
folks asked me to. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.5pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AbbJacksonSmithII/posts/10207611343056293" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">I posted this on
Facebook</span></a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>last night
after an experience with little league baseball.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sports are a lot like life. The battles we
learn to fight there may help us when we face far more imposing opponents, like
disappointment, loss or mental illness. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 14.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We can all use good coaches to help us
through the hard times.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Couple observations about youth sports and coaches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">1. Encouragement works. Yelling does not. (Watch
elite coaches who've won National Championships up close and personal and
you'll learn this lesson).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">2. Children have good memories. So don't tell them
one thing before the game and another after a loss. That's called hypocrisy.
Kids may not know how to spell it but they know how to smell it. From left
field.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">3. Respect must be earned. Not demanded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">4. Kids don't care how much you know until they know
how much you care. About them. Not the game you are trying to win to prop up
your own ego.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">5. It's not possible to be objective about your own
children. So guard against that blind spot. Everyone else sees it from 10 miles
away.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">6. If you didn't achieve all your goals as a player
two decades ago, your kid won't, either. They are your goals, not his. So let
it go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">7. Kids will only have passion for the sport if they
love the game, not because you do. You can't force passion. Let them find their
own passion, whether it's baseball or bowling, reading or playing guitar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">8. Consistency isn't key. It's critical.
Inconsistency undermines credibility and erodes trust.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">9. Idiot parents are ruining youth sports and often
times their own kids. That's why coaches with positive attitudes who encourage
and motivate matter more than ever. And can be more effective than ever. Many
kids are starved for encouragement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">10. Body language matters. Watch Dr. Cuddy's YouTube
video. She teaches at Harvard. You probably don't.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">11. All kids learn differently. Their personalities
and learning styles matter. Yours does not.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">12. Leave your ego at the door, or it just might
cause you to embarrass yourself at the ballpark. And your kid.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">13. If you cheat in 12-year-old baseball or coach
with a win-at-all cost mentality, you better believe your kid thinks it's okay
to cheat in life and use people for selfish gain. And the essence of sports and
the timeless life lessons they can teach us is lost. How sad.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">14. Last but not least: The purpose of sport is to
teach us about life. And overcoming adversity. And the importance of putting
others ahead of ourselves. If coaches don't do that, there is no way in the
world kids will.</span></div>
</div>
Jack Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01517637757539651513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-89236958297925494232016-06-05T11:13:00.000-05:002016-10-27T16:01:44.817-05:00Top 10 Tips for Fighting Depression: Keep Fighting<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Ta5NqixB9tROus4jnvsm8nElh0dbOejFN0LAQwkCCdtJzr8xlyMqdDY9Bp_Xd52pT4dD0Btoy4RDZvt6-YSTUgw3MNU6FT7ueXPwkUNmxkNa2IVhE0b2ytmO44wYhE4TEPyyM-NyOkI/s1600/Ali.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Ta5NqixB9tROus4jnvsm8nElh0dbOejFN0LAQwkCCdtJzr8xlyMqdDY9Bp_Xd52pT4dD0Btoy4RDZvt6-YSTUgw3MNU6FT7ueXPwkUNmxkNa2IVhE0b2ytmO44wYhE4TEPyyM-NyOkI/s400/Ali.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Greatest reminds us all: Keep fighting. Even when your back is flat on the mat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">By Jack Smith</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The death of Muhammad Ali moved me in unexpected ways. He was brash and cocky, but he backed it up. I
love Ali because he stood for something—whether you liked it or not. He didn’t
care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">He did what HE thought was right. He didn’t spend his days
trying to please others or tell them what they wanted to hear. (Paging Jack
Smith!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We can learn a lot from Ali’s life and boxing career.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know what I learned?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>There’s greatness somewhere inside of me even when I can’t
see it.</i></b> All I have to do is never quit searching for it—even when I’m face down
on the mat like Joe Frazier after taking a right hook from The Greatest champ
who ever lived.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I credit Ali and a new blog friend who reached out to me
a while back from far away and told me I have to keep writing. He said men need
help more than I know, and my blog for some reason helps them. Or at least him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">His outreach inspired me to get this post up today. It
reminded me that I write this blog to give people hope and help me cope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I’m sharing my list of <b>Top 10 Tips to Battle
Depression</b>. These are things I try to do in
my battle with depression and anxiety. I hope it helps. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I rarely do them all at once. Sometimes my report cards
reads like an old “Leave it to Beaver” episode. Wally brings home all A’s. The
Beave brings home Bs and Cs—at best. I’m more like The Beave than Wally most of
the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5RGp5S2-I479dBHf-SUanR4z0gyLd4Zz6kF3NxTkRrVF-_UKNvWA-PJn7wLfd-iV1gcTK0tsbQUFEkpy8SanvlP_riFcLx6gMKMBfPrgh3xx9ymDpZ00e8AVxwCOEz6kNuWQAD50Yb0/s1600/top-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="101" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5RGp5S2-I479dBHf-SUanR4z0gyLd4Zz6kF3NxTkRrVF-_UKNvWA-PJn7wLfd-iV1gcTK0tsbQUFEkpy8SanvlP_riFcLx6gMKMBfPrgh3xx9ymDpZ00e8AVxwCOEz6kNuWQAD50Yb0/s200/top-10.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here goes, with apologies to Wally for any typos. Posting
without much editing is exposure therapy for me:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>1. Exercise</b>. Running was once a passion, and it
always helped me. It’s like a mental flush. Running is like rebooting my crazy
computer, giving me calm and focus. I just started back after a stint on the
Disabled List.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">I’m already addicted again. You don’t have to run. Swim. Walk.
Cycle. Do something even when you don’t feel like getting off the
couch—especially when you don’t feel like getting off the couch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>2. Set realistic goals</b>. I try and write down 3
things each night I need to do the next morning. I always start with an easy
one. Like “text Fred and tell him Happy Birthday.” It gives me positive
momentum. Add one or two things that must be done, like pay the water bill. Do
this before bed. It will help you sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>3. Get a massage</b>. I don’t know what the research
says, but I know what my mind and body think. A good massage always helps me
feel better physically and mentally. Even emotionally.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>4. Take my meds</b>: All of them. I now use “PillPack,”
a fantastic mail-order service for prescriptions. They handle it all. I never
deal with drug stores anymore. Pill Pack fills and refills them all and mails
me little plastic envelopes that are so easy a monkey could do it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">The one I
just ripped open and took said “8 AM Sunday.” It has today’s date and a list of
them. You tear out the envelopes you need for each day. No more bottles. I
highly recommend PillPack.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>5. Focus on family</b>: It’s different in divorce,
but I’m happiest if I can really focus on my kids when I’m with them. It’s hard for all of us to turn down the white noise and not worry about
things. It’s hard for me, too. But I try mindfulness tips like focusing on the details of what
they’re saying or watching what they are doing, noticing the little things. It helps.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: x-large; text-indent: -0.25in;">6. Seek work-life balance</b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">. </span><i style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: x-large; text-indent: -0.25in;">Okay skip to #7!</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"> I’m awful
at this but have made mild improvements lately I’ll share more about later. The
short version? Don’t stay up all night working. It will be there tomorrow. So
live a little.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal;"><b> 7. </b></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>Stay spiritually fit</b>: I am a believer. I don’t
judge anyone for where they are in their walk, but good mental health is a real
uphill climb for me without a personal relationship with God. It’s still uphill
a lot of the time, but at least I can see a Light in the distance. It matters. A
lot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">I</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"> often forget to write in my prayer journal and make a gratitude list.
When I do journal and pray, it’s better than “An Apple a Day Keeps the Doctor
Away.” More like "a few prayers a day keeps anxiety at bay." This isn’t perfect
for me or probably many others. But it helps.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-stretch: normal;"><b> 8.</b> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>Go to therapy!</b> Just go. It helps. I’m at my best
when my psychologist and my psychiatrist are both in the huddle. Talking is
therapy. It’s better than running sometimes for flushing toxic feelings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 27px; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 27px; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>9.</b> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 27px; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Music</b>: <a href="http://apple.com/music">Music</a> lifts my mood, touches my heart and stirs my soul . I might bounce my head to Flo Rida and think about nothing or get into deep stuff with classical music so powerful it can transform my thinking and give me hope. It all works. Cash and Springsteen. Sheeran and Simple Minds. R.E.M. and Rachmaninoff. And of course Bono (lead healer) and The Edge. They are all part of my therapy team.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 27px; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 27px; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>10. Give back</b>: Even if you're having a hard day, give someone a nice compliment. Shoot someone who is struggling a text to ask how they are. Help a friend in need. Giving may be the best medicine of all, even when all we feel like doing is sitting. Giving beats sitting all day long and twice on Sunday. It works. Give it a try!</span></span></div>
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Jack Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01517637757539651513noreply@blogger.com0Auburn, AL, USA32.6098566 -85.48078249999997532.3958911 -85.80350599999997 32.8238221 -85.15805899999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-68307213910919843732016-05-15T22:14:00.001-05:002016-06-22T11:36:12.575-05:00You can go home: Just take Memory Lane<div class="p1">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>“If a person is not talented enough to be a novelist, not smart enough to be a lawyer, and his hands are too shaky to perform operations, he becomes a journalist.”</i></b></span></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">—Norman Mailer</span></i></h2>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;"><b>By Jack Smith</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">This Norman Mailer quote pretty much sums it up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My heart longs to write for a living, but my head says I’d starve.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I almost went to law school, but I hated my first job. I worked at the biggest firm in the state in a job I started a couple days after graduation. They stuck me in a room with no windows and not enough straight jackets to do tedious discovery work defending an insurance company—a massive company that ripped off a bunch of poor people who didn’t know better. I was miserable.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">My girlfriend was four hours away that summer. The whole thing triggered one of my first bouts with major depression in my early 20s. I’d struggled before but never like that. I could not get off the couch except to go to work. I had no idea why and never told anyone.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">When I told the firm I was leaving, one nice lawyer said it’s a shame. He said I wrote good memos and summarized things well. I didn’t take it as a compliment. I remember wondering why he didn’t say, “You’d make a good lawyer, Jack.”</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">That’s all I wanted to hear. I have enough lawyers in my family to field a basketball team with good subs to come off one heck of a bench. For years, I’ve wondered why I was too scared to become one. I recently figured it out: I was too scared to become one.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">So I did something I swore I’d never do. I <b><a href="http://www.eufaulaalabama.com/">went home</a></b> and settled on a career as a journalist at a community newspaper. They were the best 10 years of my life and career. And the hardest. It’s not easy being Superman’s son, but flying is fun even if you’re afraid of heights.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh. I almost forgot about the third part of the quote up top: I have a tremor that on some days makes it hard for me to drink coffee in front of other people. Being a surgeon was not an option, even if I hadn't stunk at science my whole life.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I’ve sat through hundreds of lunches and dinners at restaurants and eaten entire meals without taking a single sip of water. That’s what I used to do when my tremor was bad and the waiter filled my glass too close to the top. I was worried I’d spill it everywhere.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I was mocked as a child just a few times and never really got over it until fairly recently. If someone were to make fun of me tomorrow, they might get a shaky middle finger back in their face. It feels good not to care what others think again. I know that's crass and I'm sorry to sound that way. Honesty is liberating, and that's honestly how I feel. And the rest of the truth is most days I do care what others think. And that's misery. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="s2">You may have heard what Norman Mailer said about going home. Or was it Tom Wolfe, who stole his line and put it on the cover of his best book? </span>Either way, I made up a word just now for what at least one of them did: Plagiarism.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">“Don’t you know,” a lady once allegedly told Tom Wolfe, “you can’t go home again?”</span></blockquote>
<a name='more'></a></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cue Phil Collins’ velvety smooth voice, his revolutionary drum reverbs and one of my favorite songs of all time, "Take Me Home." (Sorry if you don't know this song...you need to find it first and listen or this will make no sense).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Take, take me home….because I wanna remember….take, take me home.</i></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I agree with those haunting and simultaneously stirring Phil Collins lyrics. I don't agree with the lady who said you can't go home.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I want desperately to go home again, because there is so much I don’t remember. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve been chasing memories for a long time, because my memory doesn’t work right. I’m like a father in search of a lost child. Sometimes it’s all I think about.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">There was the time shortly after returning from treatment when I took my son and a buddy to a movie on a Friday night. By Sunday morning, I could not remember the buddy’s name. That used to happen often and is not a big deal. But I couldn’t see his face, either.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I had no idea who we’d taken to the movie 36 hours earlier. He was just a small shadowy figure who haunted me in the night for days. I furiously searched the farthest reaches of my mind and flew into a panic. It wasn’t there. I never found it.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">Wondering where in the heck my keys are and whether I actually wrote that email are the easy ones. I use the Sent folder and search options dozens of times some days. I have only fractured memories of the past few years…they flicker and short circuit my brain. It’s sort of like being Jason Bourne. Except he’s the biggest stud in spy movie history. And I’m not.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">That’s why I write down everything I have to remember. But that’s a pain in the neck, because you have to remember which notes are where. I waste a lot of time rifling through notepads just like I did as a reporter in search of the perfect lead.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">Doctors have said many things contribute to my memory issues. Some blame ECT (the shock treatment I had several dozen times), major bouts with depression and too many meds for too long a time. They’ve done scans to make sure nothing is seriously wrong. About six months ago, my psychiatrist asked me a bunch of bizarre questions. He later told me he was making sure I didn’t have dementia or early onset Alzheimer’s. I don't. </span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">It's a filing problem, stupid</span></h4>
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">My brilliant therapist who knows me as well as anyone says I don’t have a memory problem. She says I have a filing problem. The memories are there…I just can’t find them sometimes. She said it’s like putting files in the wrong folder. It makes it a heck of a lot harder to find them later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="s2"> </span> </span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">Now that I am free of so many things I was held captive by for so long, I want to remember more than ever. </span><span style="font-size: large;">So I went to my alma mater on a perfect autumn Saturday for a reunion a few months ago. I didn’t know if any guys my age would show up at the SAE house.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Take, take me home….because I wanna remember….take, take me home.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It was such a spectacularly beautiful day I didn’t even care if my "boys" (the kids nowadays call it a squad) were there or not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The sun was shining brightly, but not so brightly you had to squint. The drive west on US 280 was heavenly…the golden sunlight was soft that day and a cool breeze gently shook the Southern Yellow pines, which paint the landscape evergreen most of the year in Alabama. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pine trees that were so much a part of my childhood are the perfect backdrop to God’s great canvas, providing contrast to the pale yellow and rust colored trees mixed in along the way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was perfect. I thought of one of my sentimental work friends telling a story about blaring Rick Springfield and singing like a fool who didn't care if anyone was watching, or, heaven forbid, listening.</span></div>
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<br />
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<i style="background-color: white;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I opened my sunroof and breathed the cool air</span> <span style="font-size: large;">deep into my lungs. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I had forgotten my car had a sunroof, just like I forgot how different living is from suffering.</span></i></blockquote>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I opened my sunroof and breathed the cool air deep into my lungs. I had forgotten my car had a sunroof, just like I forgot how different living is from suffering. Just like I had forgotten how living is so very different even from surviving, which can sometimes feel like the worst of the two options. Surviving is not living. At least we feel something when we suffer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Music & Memories</span></h3>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">Music was blaring from my new songlist. I named it “Inspire.” It has everything from Johnny Cash and Ed Sheeran and Bette Midler to N’Sync and Phil Collins, from the Zac Brown Band and Alabama to the Original London Cast of "Phantom of the Opera". Don’t tell my doctor that. He might ask more weird questions.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">They are all songs I connect with a memory or a feeling, sometimes both. Those are the best kind of songs, and I love music. I love it so much I recently embarrassed myself at my first real guitar lesson. Now I can play a Buffet song and "Brown Eyed Girl." Sort of.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">As I drove onto the beautiful gate on campus, memories came rushing back. A lot of things look different, but a lot of it looks just the same.</span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;"><i>Take, take me home….because I wanna remember….take, take me home.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">The dumpster fire of a fraternity house where we all acted ridiculous but somehow grew up at the same time is gone. A new one was built a mile or so away, and it’s already a disaster. That made me smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I felt like a fool walking in because I didn’t know a soul, but within five minutes the current guys were showing me my "composite," which is basically a picture of our fraternity squad," tons of tiny head shots of the greatest characters God ever put on this earth.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">They pulled out an absurd photo album that had pictures of me and my friends having the time of our lives. Before long, 10 of the current fraternity "actives" (that means they aren't pledges anymore) were hovering around me on the couch, begging me to tell more stories.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">Memories came rushing back! They were all there, locked in that cabinet. They had just been filed in the wrong place in my mind. It’s a legitimate miracle they didn’t lose that scrapbook, which somehow made it from the old house to the new one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jarhead, Batman & Muslim</b></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There was Jarhead, my roommate of four years and best friend from Chattanooga. He intimidated the heck out of everybody and always had my back. I could pick up girls with big boyfriends and not be scared.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">There was Charlie S., who dressed up like Batman at every party and actually repelled down a rope from the top of the house. He would raise his wings, and girls would be utterly disgusted. He was often naked underneath.</span><br />
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</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">There was Christian, who we nicknamed Muslim. He’s a brilliant and funny guy who married a professional football cheerleader. He’s the one who named me Skeletor for the psychopathic look I get on my face after four beers. (Relax. I quit drinking two years ago).</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">There was Shady Grady, a friend I’m still close with, photobombing every picture of me before we knew what photobombing was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">There was Jarhead at K-mao, this ridiculous party where we dressed up like Polynesian warriors in grass skirts and painted our entire bodies and literally paraded around campus with hundreds of people watching. That would not go over well nowadays, but we actually thought a lot of the great Hawaiian king. I like Hawaii so much I got my dad to pay for a honeymoon there.</span><br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;"><i>Take, take me home….because I wanna remember….take, take me home.</i></span></blockquote>
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<h3>
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">Swamp Thing, Pan & History</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">There was Allen Collinsworth, who we called Snipper for some reason I can’t remember. Snipper dressed up as "Swamp Thing" and harassed the fraternity across the street, where it really was low and swampy. He played on the tennis team and was really fast.</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">I remember chubby security guards with clubs they never got to use chasing him one night. Snipper scaled the fence like a monkey on meth, jumped down and ran off. About an hour later, he called the house phone from a service station two miles away. I went and picked him up in my red Ford Tempo.</span></h3>
</div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">We used to laugh until our chests were heaving and no noise was coming out when I’d drive The Tampon around the campus loop…in reverse…at about 20 miles per hour. Driving well in reverse is one of the few skills I have. The look on people’s faces was priceless.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">Pan was the baddest guy I ever knew. He had curly blonde hair and blue eyes, and the girls loved him. He became a Marine because he couldn’t get his act together as far as the world defined it (I always thought he had it together and had life figured out) and he was shipped off to Paris Island. He came back a different person, with the famed “Thousand Yard Stare.” Then President George H. W. Bush went on CNN and declared war on Iraq.</span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;"><i>Take, take me home….because I wanna remember….take, take me home.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="s2">War was new to us then, and we were scared for Pan. He wasn’t scared in the least bit. We had a big bonfire in front of the house the night before he left. Our best couch ended up on the fire in a heaping mess, just like Pan’s girlfriend did as the night went on. At least that's what I think I remember. I just remember a pretty girl crying and wanting to give her a hug. I don’t remember her name, but I'll never forget the way she made me feel</span>.</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">On that spectacular fall day a few months ago, I eventually walked to the BSC football game with one of the actives and ran into some old friends there. Nobody gave a damn about the game, and it was nice. Folks sit on the hillside on blankets, sipping Chardonnay and soaking in the sun. It might seem like a joke to some, but it’s pure and beautiful. It's the way God meant sports to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">After maybe two quarters of the game, I took off by myself for the quad. I went straight for Munger Hall, the towering red brick Greek Revival building now bathed in the golden sunlight of late autumn afternoons.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I took my first class there with a hangover so severe I could not understand anything the guy was saying. It’s also where I took my last history class as a much more mature and interested senior who had come to love history and political science.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I walked to the other side of the building, where I routinely parked illegally and got $5 tickets that nearly prevented my graduation. Mom and Dad were there the day before when the Business Office called and said I couldn’t walk until the bill was paid. Dad was so proud he wasn’t even mad. Man, I miss him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">The drive home on that amazing fall day of memories and songs and laughter was even better. I could remember so much more than when the day started.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">It took me three hours to get home because I kept thinking of songs. I pulled over at the Home Depot in Sylacauga, Alabama, and then again at a wretched looking Huddle House God knows where to download music on my phone. The songs took forever to come through, but I didn’t care. I had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. It was quite nice.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;"><i>Take, take me home….because I wanna remember….take, take me home.</i></span></blockquote>
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I cried happy tears as Phil Collins sang one of my favorite songs. They were the best kind of tears. The kind that flush the poison from your heart but don’t sting.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">The unique punch of the percussion in his music and his smooth voice soared right out of the sunroof and into the night sky. My soul soared with it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">And it suddenly hit me. You can go home, and you can remember.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">I tried to describe to myself what I was feeling but couldn’t come up with the right word. Then I realized something I had forgotten for so many long and hard years.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: large;">This is what happiness feels like.</span></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0Birmingham-Southern College, Birmingham, AL37.160316546736773 -96.79688930511474611.638282046736773 -138.10548330511475 62.68235104673677 -55.488295305114747tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-12339069002817384482016-04-23T11:07:00.001-05:002016-06-22T11:59:41.078-05:00Music & Miracles: The Dream of a Champion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cnDjp8ihYtcayWOduEJGNiJDomuYSS6sysKsuIQhzYJp7rtnmEFZn-wFuGgccS6rXTm0omdMl35dxrhIHIsFzhlDbYysvR9QkO6LjH3Bv51ttAxETucOwOqH4qag9qKRMki_yWaVP1s/s1600/Kevin+at+press+conference.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cnDjp8ihYtcayWOduEJGNiJDomuYSS6sysKsuIQhzYJp7rtnmEFZn-wFuGgccS6rXTm0omdMl35dxrhIHIsFzhlDbYysvR9QkO6LjH3Bv51ttAxETucOwOqH4qag9qKRMki_yWaVP1s/s320/Kevin+at+press+conference.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">By Jack Smith</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I knew a man who had a dream.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He dreamed of peace amidst pain for those who suffered. He dreamed of a better future for his wife and their children and all who suffered from the indignity of a cruel illness and the injustice of hunger.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">He dreamed of music and miracles. He dreamed of a cure and an answer to problems that too often leave those of us incapable or unwilling to dream with our hands in our pockets, waiting for someone else to fix it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">His dream was powered by faith and hope, not fear of the final act he knew was coming, no matter how hard he fought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And he fought—like a champion in the ring—to the end. As those who were blessed to be at his funeral learned, the end was devastating and raw and real and painful. And sweet and powerful and life-giving for those who loved him most and those who didn't know him at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">He kept swinging and hoping and praying until that final bell tolled. Its sound echoes still, giving hope and life and encouragement to those still fighting the good fight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What a blessing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even as he penned notes to those he loved, knowing his final breath was moments away, he still dreamed of this day and how to make it happen. He challenged us all to fill up a historic stadium and raise $1 million for the causes he believed in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Despite mighty obstacles and the seeds of doubt sewn by all who said "that's impossible" through the entire journey, he still had a dream.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmUX7lcFmkd4-FysRieX2gI7ICjS12L5lB7mWaNHAlxVeB55dz1xHbxn49z2Ot-Dqa3YDiizDytdkXY1YDow6gIYkrv7eG4sPawpZW-gTswIDpvMV6necWQwSaGNKv2jx-FHc7j1OIkY/s1600/Making+music+and+miracles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmUX7lcFmkd4-FysRieX2gI7ICjS12L5lB7mWaNHAlxVeB55dz1xHbxn49z2Ot-Dqa3YDiizDytdkXY1YDow6gIYkrv7eG4sPawpZW-gTswIDpvMV6necWQwSaGNKv2jx-FHc7j1OIkY/s320/Making+music+and+miracles.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">He dreamed of music and hope and love on a warm spring evening in God's Country. Of thousands gathered together in fellowship to listen to the music that had been the soundtrack of his life and the life he had built with an amazing and beautiful wife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">He kept the dream alive even as his own nightmare played somewhere in the background every day and in the foreground on the hard days. It was set to the haunting score of a movie sure to end in the hardest kind of tragedy, the kind when a bright light is snuffed out far too soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He surely felt it. He surely knew it. Those who love him most did, too. </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">Yet he never lost hope. He never lost faith. He never took no for an answer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He never let the white noise or the black noise or the chattering doubt of naysayers choke the life out of his dream, even as the illness he fought slowly choked the life out of him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Despite it all, he still had a dream.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He had a dream just like the man who woke up the conscience of a great nation on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial five decade ago.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKeYACTDPEl6dH0xOOHL_LxSM1jtx0YBv3cDEhDFKSWlOxPW2AavOIeM6I_oTFWuKJbZUcWCkatYtEPkCbj-INNkMxHyBeMTY7_-1LsU_qidKmsehf6s1AnB-bZxtAR0z8LbeDKRvLUs/s1600/Kevin+and+Stacy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKeYACTDPEl6dH0xOOHL_LxSM1jtx0YBv3cDEhDFKSWlOxPW2AavOIeM6I_oTFWuKJbZUcWCkatYtEPkCbj-INNkMxHyBeMTY7_-1LsU_qidKmsehf6s1AnB-bZxtAR0z8LbeDKRvLUs/s400/Kevin+and+Stacy.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sentimentality and emotion may sometimes cause us to overstate the beauty and greatness of a moment in history, a night that may one day be an obscure footnote compared to the greatest speech in American history.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yet to miss the significance of days and events like this one, when tens of thousands will gather to hear music and witness miracles big and small at a stadium built for a game Kevin Brown loved—regardless of his color blindness and allegiance many of us here in Auburn can't understand—would be like missing the magic and power of music itself. Music, as Kenny Chesney even says, is medicine for the soul.</span></div>
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<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;">Medicine for the soul</span></h4>
<span style="font-size: large;">Music has been medicine for my soul, a powerful antidote for the pain of a broken heart and the sting of disappointment. I know it has been for you, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So tonight let's all take a moment to close our eyes and give thanks to our Father in Heaven for the life of Kevin Brown. Let's pray for Stacy and Barclay and the entire Chicken Salad Chick Foundation team who made this happen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kevin Brown had a dream many said was not possible. Tonight it will come true.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">How sweet it is to know he will have the best seat in the house at the <a href="http://www.musicandmiracles.com/">Music & Miracles Superfest</a> in Jordan-Hare Stadium. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As Kenny Chesney and other gifted artists spread the love, Kevin will feel it in his heart. I wish I could see the smile on his face. I find comfort and hope knowing I will one day. That's not a dream. It's a promissory note, already paid in full by our Savior.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Despite the pain we all endure at one time or another, there is a time and a season for everything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tonight is a time to celebrate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I will close my eyes and let music be the medicine my soul needs. I know it will be for you, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I will thank the King of Kings for the gift of knowing a great man. I will thank Him for taking away this great man's pain and for showing us grace we don't deserve by giving us all his love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks be to God. Forever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. #Spread the love. That's what Kevin and Kenny would want us all to do.</span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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Jack Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01517637757539651513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-40005920679623342712016-02-18T17:24:00.001-06:002016-04-27T13:34:08.622-05:00Be patient with depression meds<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3a3a3a; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qK1zcAKaseY/VyD8cuElkTI/AAAAAAAABT8/rpVw54OISA0WMWSdjbqssnuNj_2dsi6PACLcB/s1600/IMG_1009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qK1zcAKaseY/VyD8cuElkTI/AAAAAAAABT8/rpVw54OISA0WMWSdjbqssnuNj_2dsi6PACLcB/s200/IMG_1009.JPG" title="" width="150" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This is an old article I did for a national mental health website. I'm posting it again because I've had questions about it recently. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I no longer take the same drugs. And not near as many. My life is better now, but it's still challenging to maintain good mental health. That's true for everyone, but especially those of us with mood disorders. We aren't just moody. We have an illness, no different than cancer or diabetes.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm now on an MAOI. I take it and a drug for anxiety on occasion and a sleep aid. That's it.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When I wrote this, I was on enough medication to sedate a large horse.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Genetic testing later showed most of what I had taken for years (SSRI's you've heard of) probably never had a chance to work for me. The merits of genetic testing are debatable, but that's another blog for another day.</span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3a3a3a; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Having the right doctor and the right plan is a huge part of recovery. At least it has been for me.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There should be no debate about that. I believe it's essential.</span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Jack Smith</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I’m an impatient patient.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3a3a3a; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When I was first diagnosed with depression seven or so years ago, my doctor prescribed me an <a href="http://www.healthyplace.com/depression/antidepressants/antidepressant-medications-for-depression/" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #087fae; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 19.6px; margin: 0px; outline: none medium; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.1s linear; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Antidepressant Medications for Depression">antidepressant medication</a>, warning me that it might take 2 to 4 weeks before it made any difference.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3a3a3a; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Boy was that an understatement. <span id="more-231" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span>I vividly remember getting worse before getting better, even dealing with <a href="http://www.healthyplace.com/depression/symptoms/pain-of-depression-physical-symptoms-of-depression/" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #087fae; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 19.6px; margin: 0px; outline: none medium; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.1s linear; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Pain of Depression: Physical Symptoms of Depression">physical pain caused by my depression</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The first depression drug he prescribed proved ineffective, even after a month, so we tried another. The same cycle repeated itself. I didn’t start feeling better until my third antidepressant prescription—a few months after being diagnosed.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3a3a3a; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know that is not very encouraging to those who have recently been diagnosed with depression. Hearing that it may get worse before it gets better is frustrating. But it’s true.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It takes patience to get the payoff from antidepressants. Two to four weeks is generally the minimum to see any improvement, and it may take up to six months to get the full benefit of a new depression drug. At least, that’s what my psychiatrist tells me.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3a3a3a; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.healthyplace.com/depression/switching-antidepressants/changing-antidepressant-medication/" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #087fae; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 19.6px; margin: 0px; outline: none medium; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.1s linear; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="About Changing Antidepressant Medications">Changing antidepressant medications</a> can be just as frustrating as taking an antidepressant for the first time. The last couple of weeks have been extremely difficult for me. I began to slide back into a deep bout of depression, and my doctor wanted to be aggressive in trying to stop it. It got so bad that my stomach ached and I could barely get out of bed for a day or two, so we had no choice but to try something different.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3a3a3a; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 1.12em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And we did. We changed my antidepressant. While I’m generally a compliant patient, I didn’t follow the doctor’s orders exactly on <a href="http://www.healthyplace.com/depression/switching-antidepressants/how-to-switch-antidepressants/" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #087fae; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 19.6px; margin: 0px; outline: none medium; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.1s linear; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="How to Switch Antidepressants Safely">how to switch antidepressants safely</a> and make the transition. Big mistake.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Instead of slowly weaning off my old drug, which I was supposed to do over a three-day period, I <a href="http://www.healthyplace.com/depression/antidepressants/suddenly-stopping-antidepressant-treatment-can-lead-to-some-nasty-side-effects/" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #087fae; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 19.6px; margin: 0px; outline: none medium; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.1s linear; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="http://www.healthyplace.com/depression/antidepressants/suddenly-stopping-antidepressant-treatment-can-lead-to-some-nasty-side-effects/">suddenly stopped the antidepressant</a> cold turkey and started taking the new drug. This led to what’s called <a href="http://www.healthyplace.com/depression/antidepressants/getting-off-antidepressants/" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #087fae; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 19.6px; margin: 0px; outline: none medium; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.1s linear; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Getting Off Antidepressants: Antidepressant Discontinuation">antidepressant discontinuation</a> symptoms. Several days of pure hell followed. I had suicidal thoughts. My anxiety increased exponentially, and I was feeling utterly hopeless and severely depressed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I didn’t intentionally ignore the doctor’s orders. He told me to get off the old drug by cutting my dosage in half for three days before dropping it entirely. When I got home that night, I was frustrated to discover that the pill I had been taking was the type that can’t be cut in half. So I just quit taking it instead of asking for the smaller dosage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Let’s just say I won’t ever do that again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So if you are suffering from depression and have just been put on an antidepressant, my advice is to be patient. If you have been on an antidepressant and a decision is made to discontinue it, follow the doctor’s orders. I learned that lesson the hard way.</span></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-37602071336681445922015-11-26T09:53:00.002-06:002015-12-05T20:47:38.576-06:00Rejoice in all things<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Thanksgiving</i></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"><b>By Jack Smith</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> This is a new version of an old blog, but its truth still resonates today. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today I’m thinking of friends and family who won’t be with us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And I’m remembering what Paul wrote: To rejoice in all circumstances. Not just the good ones.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thanksgiving was my father's favorite holiday. It may have been his favorite day of the year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He would rise early, whistling with gusto and singing silly songs in the shower, while mom did all the work in the kitchen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dad loved Thanksgiving, because it was the one day of the year he was sure to see almost all of his Smith kin. Especially his five brothers and sisters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They were an unusually close set of siblings. Their relationships were forged by fire in the tragic early death of their mother, who died when my father was 11. The youngest was just an infant. When Dad was in college, their father died after living for years with a broken heart, never remarrying or even dating.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thanksgiving mornings were always fun for me as a kid. After watching Big Bird, Kermit and others float through Manhattan, we'd pile up in the station wagon and motor through the Wiregrass toward Geneva, home of my namesake.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Uncle Jack and his sweet wife, my Aunt Mildred, hosted all the Smiths every year. They fried up the best hand-breaded chicken fingers you've ever tasted and put out salty Apalachicola bay oysters before any of us even arrived. I ate more fat oysters on Saltines, dripping with tangy cocktail sauce, than one could count.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mom always brought the mouth-watering homemade dressing, never cooked from a box. She always baked a plump turkey in the oven and made gravy from scratch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Each time one of the siblings and their families arrived at Uncle Jack's, they were greeted with an uproar as though a celebrity had just arrived. There were big hugs and smiles, laughter and commentary on how much the children, usually dressed in khakis and button down shirts we didn't want to be wearing, had grown.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My cousin, Mac, was in charge of pouring and refilling the champagne. It made the day more fun and interesting as it went on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My Aunt Janice, an attractive French teacher, and her husband, my Uncle Doug, were usually the last to arrive. The fun didn't start until they had gotten settled in. One year, Aunt Janice paraded around with a boom box, trying to lead us all in the singing of Handel's Messiah.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Another year, I she sang something in French and played conductor on the back steps, trying to get the children too busy playing football to sing along. They didn't. Aunt Janice, who would hold her chin high while taking drags from her long cigarettes, was always interested in me and told me she loved me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> My Uncle Maury was the family patriarch, an esteemed and brilliant attorney, always dapper in slacks and a stylish coat. He had a booming voice and a great laugh. Uncle Maury was more than an avid Alabama fan, he was a member of the university Board of Trustees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My favorite part of the day when I was a kid was making my annual $1 Iron Bowl bet with Uncle Maury. In years I'd win, he always sent me a crisp dollar in the mail with a gracious note. I'm not sure I ever paid him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One of my uncles, who dad always said had more personality than most accountants, was less friendly to any Auburn fan. One miserable year when some demonic TV executives decided the Auburn-Alabama game should be played on Thanksgiving, we all gathered around the television at Uncle Jack's.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My gregarious and really funny uncle drank a few Coors Lights, "Silver Bullets" he called them, and threw a yellow napkin at my feet on the floor every time we got a penalty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It took me a while to get over that, but I did because he's married to my Aunt Sarah, the kindest person I've ever known. She went to Auburn.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Uncle Jack and Aunt Mill worked like dogs to make sure we all had plenty to eat and drink. They even put an addition with big windows on their house, mostly for our family reunion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Uncle Bob, another attorney, showed up every year wearing a coat and time, his graying hair neatly combed to the back. He always had a story about his children, my cousins who we loved to get into mischief with during our day in Geneva. Uncle Bob and Aunt June were kind and engaging, and I loved visiting with them even though they were Democrats. We didn't talk politics.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Somehow, Uncle Jack, a contractor with all kinds of big toys on his spacious back lot, never lost his patience with the cousins who played around on his crane and even managed to crank up a diesel truck one year. We couldn't turn it off, so Uncle Jack walked out back and shut down the throttling engine without saying a word.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It seemed to take hours for Aunt Mill, her sweet daughters and "the help" to put out all the food, a feast fit for a king. We all ate too much, laughed, and sometimes looked at pictures from the siblings' childhood years or Thanksgivings past.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dessert and coffee always followed while the Lions and some other team played a meaningless football game on the living room television.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It always ended too quickly, and we left with full bellies and heavy eyes. The drive home from Geneva to Eufaula was quiet, the autumn orange sun casting long shadows off the Southern Yellow pines.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We made that trip to Geneva for more than 30 years of my life. Today I cherish those memories. My father, Uncle Jack, Aunt Mill, Uncle Maury, Aunt Cile, Aunt Janice and Aunt June are no longer with us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know we will all reflect on those special days, even though holidays are made harder by death and divorce and other things that just happen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We will all find something to smile about. We will go to bed with full bellies, grateful for Thanksgiving memories and the ties that bind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I'll be happy just knowing God put us all on this earth together.</span></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1United States37.09024 -95.712891000000013-36.4186355 99.052733999999987 90 69.521483999999987tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-66680742304297519442015-11-21T08:17:00.000-06:002016-04-27T13:10:57.268-05:00Out of the Darkness & Into the Light<div class="OutlineElement Ltr SCX138052088">
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">Out of the Darkness Walk. October 2015</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"><b>By Jack Smith</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">Three weeks had passed since the night I reached a place so dark and desperate and painful that I began to believe the lie. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It was the night I gave up. The night I lost hope. The night I said to hell with this, I quit.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I gave up on my children. I gave up on my family. I gave up on my friends. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I gave up on my coworkers. I gave up on all the people praying for me, including many I didn’t know.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I gave up on many who were suffering in silence, people I had never met who found inspiration in the words I wrote about my struggle. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I gave up that dark and surreal night because I believed the lie. The lie that I was broken beyond repair. The lie that my family and friends would be better off without me. The lie that I could make the pain go away if I just shoved as many pills down my throat as possible.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I believed the lie because depression is a cruel disease. It is cunning and relentless and opportunistic. It crouches in the edge of the wilderness of our minds, waiting for just the right moment to pounce. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It waits until darkness and clouds cover the stars and obscure the moon, making it impossible to navigate the storm in the blackness of a bitterly cold, long winter’s night. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It waits until we are weak and vulnerable, and then it comes on slowly at first. It pushes us down a slippery slope into a dark and lonely abyss. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We begin to believe the lie because depression and other forms of mental illness are like cancer of the mind. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The cancer spreads from our minds to our hearts and even our souls. It feels like there is no cure, and there isn’t. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It feels like there is nothing anyone can do to help us, but that is a lie. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We believe it even though part of our mind knows it is a lie. We believe the lie because we have lost hope, one of the most powerful forces on earth, second only to faith and love. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We feel like we are standing on top of a burning building, and the only thing we know to do is jump.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What we don’t realize in that surreal and disconnected moment is that when we jump, the dreams that so many others have for us come crashing down with us. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We don’t realize the collateral damage we are inflicting on those who love us the most, those who would give away everything they have just for one last chance to tell us they love us, one last chance to tell us hope is not dead, one last chance to tell us they will stop at nothing to get us the help we need. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I jumped from the burning building. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Twice. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But I’m still here. I don’t know why I am here and your friend or loved one is not, and I know it isn’t fair. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But I am here. I didn’t know it at the time, but God was holding my hand as I walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Somehow, he saw me through to the other side, and today I stand in the sun. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am telling my story because I can’t just stand in the sun and soak up the glory of God’s creation without thinking of those I left behind in treatment who have relapsed, never made it out or decided they could no longer fight because they were so weary from it all.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am here telling my story not because I want to….it is easier just to bury it deep in the dark corners of my heart and hope that it never sees the light of day again.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have learned we can’t bury pain in our hearts and ever hope to be truly happy. I have learned that holding onto secrets is dangerous and toxic. Thanks to God’s grace and the faith and wisdom of my then 14-year-old daughter, I finally learned something important: Our secrets lose the power to hurt us when we drag them into the light. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That is the wicked power of stigma….it keeps us from getting the help we need and from believing there is still hope. That is just part of my story. But today isn’t really about my story. It is about your story. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about the student who wrote that he was putting together a team for this event because the campus ministry he serves lost two members to suicide in one year.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about the young college student who lost a dear friend because she never shared her pain with anyone else. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about the grandmother here with us today who lost her grandson to suicide, then her own son only months later. I can’t fathom how much pain he must have been in after losing his own son. That’s why I can’t stand here and judge him today. I know what it’s like to hurt. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about a friend I made just yesterday who lost her sister to suicide three years ago. She wants to start a program in the schools so teenagers become more aware of suicide risks and warnings. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The statistics tell us we should have done that yesterday. Suicide is the second leading cause of death among young people. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about mothers and fathers here today whose lives were devastated and whose spirits were crushed because their son or daughter lost hope and for whatever reason just couldn’t ask for help. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about 1 in 3 Auburn University students who say they have thought about suicide. That is what surveys tell us. I am not good at math, but think what that means. That means there are 8,000 students on this campus who either have been hurting or are hurting so much they were tempted to believe the lie, too. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That is a big number that doesn’t really put it into perspective. Maybe this does. The next time you are walking through this Student Center, try to grasp that every third person in line at Starbucks may be struggling at that moment. Some of them may have cried through the night, wondering why the only thought they have is the world would be better off without them.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Try to grasp that every third person you walk by carrying the weight of their books on one shoulder and a whole lot more pain and stress and worry on the other has at some point contemplated suicide. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today is about their story, too. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Back to my story for a moment. It had been three weeks since I tried to take my life for the first time.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My brother had joined me on a flight to Houston on our way to a world class treatment center. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had lost hope. I had become disconnected from God in many ways. Then I pulled my Bible out from under my seat. I flipped it open, looking for answers. Inside I found a note from my 14-year-old daughter. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With her permission, I would like to share it with you now... </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Her letter got me through a terribly difficult time. It changed my perspective and changed my prayer. I quit praying for a cure that night. I started praying for God’s will for my life, even if it meant I had to suffer along the way. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After reading her letter and changing my prayer, the pain and guilt began to lift, at least long enough for me to go through treatment that time. The dark clouds of depression rolled back into my life again less than two years later, but I still think that change in my heart and my prayer is why I am here today to tell you my story. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Many of you here can relate to the toxic nature of guilt. Guilt is like poison in our hearts. It must be flushed away before we can forgive others or even forgive ourselves. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My prayer today is that those of you are living with guilt and regret can let go of them. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It will always be hard to forgive your friend or loved one who made a tragic choice unless until you let go of the guilt. Ask God to flush it from your heart. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Your friend or loved one did not understand that by attempting or completing suicide, they were only taking their pain and multiplying it by a million. They did not understand they were merely giving it to those who love and care for them the most.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If they had, they would have asked for help.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today, I want to ask you to do a few simple things: </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Please support the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention with a donation or at least your prayers. If you are a student here, get involved with Active Minds Auburn. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is a great organization doing the important work of eliminating stigma through awareness of mental illness. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you have ever struggled with depression or bipolar or anxiety, make a list of 3 friends you can call at 3 am when it’s dark and you are lonely. Put them in your phone under “Favorites.” </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They may one day be much more than “favorites” in your phone. They may be guardian angels that save your life.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Before you go to sleep, pick up your phone and text 3 friends or loved ones that you sometimes worry about. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Tell them you love them and that you will always be there for them. Tell them even if it’s 3:00 a.m., they can always text or call. Tell them you will just be there for them to listen and try to understand. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And if you like music, go listen to Matthew West’s “Strong Enough.” </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about giving up. Not quitting. It is about giving up on the lie that we are strong enough to handle the storms of life on our own. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about recognizing that no matter how dark the skies, no matter how loud the thunder, no matter how heavy the rain, no matter how much fear we have in our hearts, there is a way out. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is about admitting we aren’t strong enough to do it on our own. Admitting that is not only okay. It’s the only way out when we can’t see the lighthouse in the distance. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I love one verse in that song. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This is what it says:</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Maybe that's the point</i></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>To reach the point of giving up</i></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Cause when I'm finally, Finally at rock bottom</i></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Well, that's when I start looking up</i></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>And reaching out...</i></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I’ve learned that having the right doctor, the right diagnosis and the right treatment plan is vital in the struggle against mental illness. But I’ve also learned something more important. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We must learn to lean on friends and family. Mine saved me. They brought me out of the darkness and into the light. My family never once judged me. They just loved me and stopped at nothing until I finally got some answers. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Friends and family are critical, but I would not have turned my life around and found hope and happiness again if God had not stayed faithful to me. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I kept my faith even when I didn’t understand God’s plan. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My faith has sustained me through some hard times, including times when I didn’t have any courage. When I was at rock bottom, a dear friend gave me a little black book that has helped save my life. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Inside are hand-written verses, songs and quotes. She even left blank pages so I could write my own favorites down.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I find one thing in my little black book that helps me every day. The words on the last page say it all.</span><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying ‘I will try again tomorrow." </span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You don’t need the courage to conquer it all in one day. God, your friends and family will do that for you in time. You just have to let go and let them. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You just need the courage to try again tomorrow.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-46749483177062967222014-10-31T11:07:00.000-05:002016-04-27T13:07:33.499-05:00Why do we suffer?<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b>By Jack Smith</b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">I
recently went through a period of profound suffering. It was pure misery, and I
lost hope. The biggest mistake I made was suffering in silence. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">I didn’t even
tell my wife, even though she knew. She always knows. She’s like the people at
the airport with the wands who make you spread your arms and legs to scan your
body for weapons. She scans me every day. Some days I can fool her, but she
eventually catches on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">I
suffered in silence because I didn’t think our marriage, our family, needed it.
But I forgot my own advice I often give others who ask me for help. Don’t try
and do it alone. It’s too heavy a burden.</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">By the
grace of God, I found hope again. The black cloud lifted. I’m still perplexed
by the mystery of suffering, so I thought I would share an excerpt from my book
on the subject.</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">The
book is basically finished. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">The proposal is done, and it’s in the hands of my
agent, soon to be pitched to publishers. It may not happen, but if I have to
I’ll make 50 copies at Kinko’s to share with family and friends. It’s been a
lot of work. I hope you enjoy this little excerpt.</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">…………</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Before
I left my home for Houston and treatment in the summer of 2013, my 14-year-old
daughter wrote me a letter. I folded it and placed it in my Bible. I slid it
out, unfolded it and wept as I read it on the plane on the way to Houston. I
share it here, just as she wrote it, with her permission:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><b>Dear Daddy,</b></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tonight is the night
before you leave for Houston. I know this is the best thing for you to do right
now, but I still don’t want you to go. A whole month seems like forever
thinking about it right now, but I’m hoping it will fly by without a second
thought.</span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">So many people love you,
including our whole family. They’re going to be supportive throughout every
step of this whole thing. Memaw, Mimi, Pop, friends, neighbors, Uncle Joel and
Uncle Bill, I could go on and on. The point is that all of those people who I
just mentioned and more absolutely love you and want you to get better.</span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I’m so thankful that
you’re alive. You were given a second chance at life. Not everybody is. There’s
a reason you didn’t have enough pills, and there’s a reason you’re alive
reading this letter right now. God is not done with you. Once we make it
through this tough little patch, He is going to use you in absolutely amazing
ways. Your testimony will inspire people everywhere.</span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Right now, you just need
to do what’s best for you and get better. Houston will be a once-in-a-lifetime
experience for you. You’re going to make unbelievable friendships. </span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>You’ll be
able to meet and talk to people who have the same situation as you. You will
learn how to cope with this disease and have a happy and joyful life.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I’ll be praying for you
every single day and thinking about you constantly. I’m so proud of you for
doing this. It’s going to change all of our lives for the better. I love you
more than words can describe.</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Love, Sutton</i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">At the
very bottom of her letter, Sutton wrote a verse of Scripture that not only
changed my perspective. It changed my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">“I
consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory
that will be revealed in us.” (Romans 8:18)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Sutton’s
letter touched my soul in its deepest and most vulnerable place. Here was a
young teenage girl offering her insights into suffering and her understanding
that, at least while fighting for my life, I had to be selfish. I had to put
myself first and treat myself with kindness and compassion. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">I also found comfort knowing that she was as much a part of
my recovery as I was. She also reminded me that countless friends and family
loved me. I learned that the love and support of our friends and family doesn’t
make real human suffering go away, but it gives hope to our hearts and helps
light a path out of the darkness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">It also struck me that she was mature enough at age 14 to
understand that not only was I hurting, I was suffering. The scripture she
shared inspired me to read the entire book of Romans in a new light.</span></span></span><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">I came to know Paul better, to understand on some level his
suffering. More deeply, I began to understand the way true believers cope with
suffering. In Romans 5:1-5, Paul writes about how he turned suffering into
hope. I share the verses below because they may be the most profound words ever
written on the subject of suffering.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">“Therefore,
since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our
Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace
in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the Glory of God. Not only
so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering
produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope
does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by
the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">As my
NIV study Bible points out, Paul does not say we should rejoice “because of”
our suffering, but “in” our suffering. Paul doesn’t write that we must ask God
for suffering or praise God because we are suffering. Instead, he writes that
we should praise God even as we suffer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">I don’t accept suffering as
easily as Paul. I still have questions. Why does God allow children to suffer?
Why would a God who can do any miracle he wants allow children in third-world
countries to starve or live in squalor? Why must any of us suffer at all? </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">As Genesis tells us, God created the heavens
and the earth, he separated the land from the sea, and he created light from
the darkness. God never took his hands off his creation, but once he set the
world in motion, he didn’t take away the darkness. He didn’t create a world
without death or destruction or natural disasters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">If we
believe in an all-powerful God, then we have to believe God could have created
a world in which there would be no flood or famine, pain or suffering. He
didn’t. In my limited understanding, that must mean God even had a plan for
suffering. If God allowed suffering and we are to be faithful, then we must
rejoice despite our suffering.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Rejoicing
in our suffering and using it to spread the love of God surely cuts the enemy
down at his knees. He wants us to give up hope, abandon our faith, and wallow
in our misery. I know this because I have felt it and experienced it. When I am
deeply depressed, I want to give up. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">I want to isolate myself from people and
from the world. I listen and believe the voices that tell me I will never feel
good again, that I am not good enough and that God doesn’t want me to have the
life I hoped to live. All of those thoughts and feelings come from a dark place,
not a place God created. That’s easy to remember when my illness is in
remission. It’s just as easy to forget when I am sick.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Paul
tells us that when we persevere through our suffering, we serve as an example
and inspiration to others. Paul even used his suffering to spread the gospel.
He was imprisoned in Rome when he wrote his letter to the Philippians.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">“Now I
want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to
advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole
palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. Because of my
chains, most of the brothers in the Lord have been encouraged to speak the word
of God more courageously and fearlessly.” (Philippians 1:12-14)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">In no way am I comparing my story of bipolar and depression
to Paul’s ministry, but those words ring true. As I have shared my stories and
my pain, countless people who have suffered in silence have told me they wept
when they read my story because it sounded so much like their own. They have
been encouraged to speak to others or seek help for their problems.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">The words of theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer in <i>Confession and Communion</i> are really
about sin, but his words could just as easily be about suffering and shame. One
could substitute the words “suffering” or “shame” for “sin” and Bonhoeffer’s
profound thoughts tell us a lot about how to deal with suffering:</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">“In confession the light of the gospel breaks into
the darkness and seclusion of the heart,” Bonhoeffer wrote. “The sin must
be brought into the light. The unexpressed must be openly spoken and
acknowledged. All that is secret and hidden is made manifest. It is a hard
struggle until the sin is openly admitted.”</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">I have found that what Bonhoeffer wrote about sin has been
true in my battle with mental illness as it relates to suffering. It is indeed
a “hard struggle,” until we can tell our story, ask others for prayers and
support, and break free from the chains of shame. When those of us who suffer
from mental illness talk openly about our pain and suffering, our secrets and
our shame, we begin to understand that our disease lies to us. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">It tells us
something is wrong with our character. That is a lie. It tells us God must not
care about us. That is a lie. It tells us we are not good enough. That is a
lie. It tells us we will never get better. That is a lie, too. They are lies we
have to fight every day not to believe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">A breakthrough moment for me came on that flight to Houston
for my three-week stay at The Menninger Clinic. While I felt relieved and
encouraged knowing I was going to a place where I might get some answers and
some help, I was also scared. My biggest fear was coming home the same way that
I left or failing to find a treatment plan that made me better. I even put pressure
on myself to make sure it worked since family and friends had become so
invested in me. I didn’t want to let anyone down, a pathological problem I’ve
had all my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">Flying on a peaceful night on a quiet plane, my views on
suffering and my prayers changed when I read my daughter’s letter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">For as long as I can remember, I had prayed for healing.
Like Paul asking God to remove the thorn from his side, I had asked God to cure
this cancer of the mind that had caused so much suffering and despair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">My prayer changed that night. For the first time, I didn’t
pray for God to heal me. I just prayed that His will be done, no matter what
that meant for me. If it was God’s will that I suffer, so be it. If it was
God’s will for me to go through storm after storm so I could help others, so be
it. ...</span></span><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-86161743146778750152014-09-01T12:49:00.000-05:002014-09-01T12:49:48.211-05:00One year later<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“In quietness and confidence is your strength.” (Isaiah
30:15)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The person who found me read that scripture hours before
driving to my house with her husband. The scripture about quietness resonated
so loudly with her she scribbled it on her mirror. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She had no idea she would read different words on another
mirror a few hours later, where the sound of terror had given way to an eerie
silence the night before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What they found when they arrived was a sad sight, the
wreckage of a life that had slowly spun out of control and then crashed into a
helpless mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But that’s enough about that story. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anniversaries can be a time to celebrate. A time to reflect.
A time to mark sad or special events. They can also be a time to move on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For me, it’s a time to reflect on one big miracle and a
bunch of tiny ones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It might sound like no big feat, except for those who suffer
from depression or bipolar or crippling anxiety, but since being released from
the hospital a year ago, I’ve spent one day in the bed. With a migraine. That’s
a miracle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’m still here with my family and my wife, despite the
tremendous toll bipolar disorder takes on marriages and the unfair strain it
puts on families.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’m still providing for my family, though some days, a lot
of days, I wonder when the next relapse will sneak up behind me in the night
and grab me around the neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve nearly given up hope a few times, and then found it
again, realizing something when my faith has gotten slippery. Hope not grounded
in faith offers little assurance. It’s almost guaranteed to disappoint us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve learned there are no limits to the compassion and
kindness of friends, whose outpouring of love and support are medicine for the
soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve learned there is no blessing like a family that will
stop at nothing to offer love, support and loyalty when all seems lost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve learned that secrets lose their power to hurt us when
we drag them into the light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve learned that getting lost in the wilderness is a
terrifying experience, but God never leaves your side if you just call on him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve learned that for me, praying for God’s will makes me
feel better than praying for a cure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Most of all, I’ve learned that the longer we suffer, the
stronger we get.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thanks to my family. Thanks to my friends. Thanks to the
readers I don’t know. And thanks be to God. It is because of Him that I’m still
here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-23147345554855920132014-08-13T11:10:00.001-05:002014-08-13T11:11:13.155-05:00My thoughts on suicide<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">If I owned a gun, I might be dead.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">That’s how much pain I was in about this time a
year ago. In just a few weeks it will have been one year since I tried to kill
myself with a fist or two full of pills and enough alcohol to make a college
freshman sick for a week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Thoughts of the anniversary have been lurking
in the dark corners of my mind. My therapist has mentioned it a time or two.
But I haven’t dealt with it yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">And then this week happened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I felt more numb than sad when I first heard
about Robin Williams. Then the numbness gave way to profound sadness as details
of his struggles with depression and addiction emerged. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I thought of my favorite Robins Williams films,
with “Dead Poets Society,” “Good Will Hunting” and “Patch Adams” topping the
list. Such talent, such a brilliantly funny guy. I thought the same thing you
thought: How could a man who could make others laugh so hard be in so much
pain?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">One thing I’ve learned through my experiences
is you can’t judge another’s. It’s obvious from reading some real gems on
social media this week that some don’t get that. People in immense pain can be
masters at covering it up. Especially a brilliant actor who could play a dozen
roles in a five-minute interview.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">It’s not uncommon for the mentally ill to be
especially creative or sensitive. I suffer from bipolar disorder. Google it and
you will find an impressive list of creative geniuses who lived with the
disorder and left legacies that are a part of every history book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I understand Williams was a sensitive and
caring guy who was loved by everyone in Hollywood. That’s unusual. Being
sensitive and caring is not. But I think highly sensitive people who suffer
from serious mental illness sometimes have a hard time navigating the world. I
know because I’m one of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">In the movie “Dead Poets Society,” Williams’
character teaches his class the classic Walt Whitman poem “O Captain, My
Captain.” It’s about the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">A powerful stanza reads:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 16.8pt; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">O
Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done;<br />
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;<br />
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,<br />
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:</span></i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt;">
<i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But O heart! heart! heart!</span></i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt;">
<i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">O the bleeding drops of red,</span></i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt;">
<i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Where on the deck my Captain lies,</span></i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 1.2pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fallen cold and dead.</span></i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Ironically, one of the young characters in the
movie commits suicide when his father forbids him to pursue his dream. Acting.
And Williams, whose eccentric teaching ways don’t fit at the rigid all boys’
school, is fired.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">As he leaves the classroom for the final time,
the boys who’ve grown to revere him stand on their desks in defiance and
exclaim “O, Captain, My Captain!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">That movie came out my senior year in high
school. As many times as I’ve seen it, that scene still puts a lump in my
throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">The deaths of President Lincoln, shot in the
head, and Williams, who hanged himself with a belt, could not be more
different. One died an innocent death. The other hanged himself with a belt. Is
one more tragic than the other?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I’ve talked to families of those who killed
themselves, and the pain they inflicted on their loved ones was too much to
bear. Unfair, really. So it is different. It is hard to say it isn’t. So I
won’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I will say that in my own experience the pain I
felt at my desperate hour hurt to my bones. I had carried around the crushing
weight of depression for so long one step felt like a thousand. I had choked
back tears so many times my soul was full of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">The racing thoughts had spun so far out of
control reality no longer existed. The anxiety was so great I had lost my
appetite and my ability to have a clear thought. The thoughts I did have were
distorted. I was detached from the world as it really existed. I was stressed
from work and life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">And then the switch flipped. There had been
thoughts but no real plan. It was an impulsive action that unfolded in the span
of a few dark hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I wrote a note on my iPad, scribbled a message
on the mirror, drank a lot of alcohol, took a bunch of pills and awoke 12 hours
later with a friend—who thought I was dead—slapping me in the face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">After four days in the hospital, a long and
hard journey to recovery began. You can read about it elsewhere on this site.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">My message to those who are hurting is don’t
give up like I did. There is better care available than there ever has been. I
found it, and you can, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">My ride is still bumpy sometimes. The last
month was a little like the Mindbender at Six Flags, with wicked twists and
turns and loops, but I eventually got off the ride. And I’m still standing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Lean on friends and family. Especially family.
Caring friends eventually have to go home. Doctors move on to the patient in
the next room. Family will never leave your side. Wrap up in your family like a
warm blanket on a bitterly cold night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Explore your faith. Mine has saved my life and
given me hope. Sometimes I pray a big prayer in the morning and little ones all
day. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord, get me through this meeting.
Lord, get me through this phone call. Lord, get me through this anxiety. Lord,
quiet the racing thoughts in my head. Lord, just give me five minutes of peace.
Lord, save me from myself.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Robin Williams is gone. That is a tragedy. An
equally great tragedy is that there are more suicide gun deaths than homicide
gun deaths in the U.S. every year. The media doesn’t talk about that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Did you know that talking about suicide doesn’t
increase the risk of suicide? Talking about suicide is the best way to prevent
it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">It’s sad that it will be silent again when this
latest story passes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-39458705820736763872014-07-13T15:06:00.001-05:002014-07-13T15:06:15.380-05:00Hope isn't dangerous; it's all some have<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I sat down just now to bang out a blog on fear. I planned to
trot out quotes from FDR, the 23<sup>rd</sup> Psalm and my own harrowing
experiences in dark places with no way to get out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then I decided to write about hope. Fear and hope may be the
two ends of the mental health spectrum that best describe how I feel at any
time. Not my physical feeling. Not my mental state. The state of my soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hope is the most powerful thing in the world, not a
dangerous thing as “Red” suggests in The Shawshank Redemption. It has been the
difference between giving up and pressing on for me, probably even life and
death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My hope comes from my faith. It is also comes from something
God put in my chest when I was born. The only reason I’ve kept fighting when
I’ve wanted to give up so many times is that, no matter how bad or pessimistic
or miserable I felt, there was always some small glimmer of hope deep in my
soul telling me not to give up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can’t write this blog without acknowledging that I did
give up, overwhelmed by pain and confusion and disillusionment. I guess you
could say I lost hope that day. I’ll write more on that later. If all this
seems a little contradictory or dualistic, well it is. So is life with Bipolar
Disorder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don’t know what else to credit for my improvement other
than faith and hope. God had another plan for my life. A second act. It
includes some suffering too, but all for a greater good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ever since I left for The Menninger Clinic last September, my
faith has been a lighthouse in the foggy distance. There have been moments of
misery, times of deep despair that challenged my faith and tried to break me.
But they didn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In 10 months since the worst day of my life, I’ve
rediscovered my family, made a professional change that has so far worked out
swimmingly, gotten in better shape, lost 30 pounds and learned to trust God
more fully. I would call that a pretty good comeback.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I hesitated to share all this because I’m a bit
superstitious when it comes to my mental health. I know a spectacular crash can
happen at any time for any reason. That’s just how it is, and that’s why fear
lurks somewhere in the dark corner of our souls even on the good days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I share it because I’ve talked to too many people suffering
from mental illness. They need more than a good therapist. They need more than
the best drugs. They need a little hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Red is right. Hope can feel like a dangerous thing, and I
suppose sometimes it is. But if we can’t hope for better days, for a better
life, what do we have to live for? That would be the most dangerous thing of
all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-63333173555263436502014-06-09T21:47:00.000-05:002014-06-09T21:51:49.059-05:00The thief who steals precious time<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">As I
watched foamy white fingers dance across the dark green waves at the beach
recently, all I could think about was time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">It’s the
one thing we all share. It’s the one thing we can’t control. And it’s the one
thing we can never get back. As orderly and predictable as time is, none of us
can predict how much we have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Toes
pressed into the sand, I watched my children, so big and grown, play in the
surf. Memories that made me smile and made me cry flashed through my racing
mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">I could see
myself sitting in the sand with my daughter—a toddler at the time—building sand
castles in that perfect spot on the beach, the smooth place where the waves
slowly run out and then retreat to the water. She’s 15 now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">I could see
my middle child, who didn’t like the sand much, sitting in a chair for hours
with his finger in his mouth, soaking it all in while never complaining. He’s
too big to sit in my lap now, and probably wouldn’t want to anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">I could see
our baby the first time we took him to the beach, when he fearlessly crawled so
far into the water waves were crashing into his face before I scooped him into
my arms. He starts his last year of elementary school in two months.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Time. My
relationship with time is stormy and complicated. I resent time because I’ve
lost so much of it to my disease. There are things I can’t remember. There are
life experiences that run together, tormenting me because I can’t remember each
precious day I’ve had with my family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Even our
most recent trip to the beach is a blur in some ways, maybe because I was
distracted with unexpected work and spent too much time staring at this laptop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Time is
hard for those with serious mental illness. Our days of suffering feel
interminable, our good days fleeting and few. Maybe that’s normal, but I
suspect it isn’t. My disease has caused me to miss much of life. What I would
do to have every one of those really bad days back to do over again when I’m
feeling healthy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">They say
you should live with no regrets, never looking back. I don’t know why that’s so
hard for me to do, but it is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mental
illness distorts one’s thinking, so I guess it only makes sense it would
distort our sense of time. We worry about the time in front of us, regret the
time behind us and fail to appreciate the time passing by at every moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">I hope
those who read this don’t take it as whiny discontent or juvenile bitterness. I
write about mental illness to help me cope, to give others hope and to help the
“normal” among us understand what life is like inside a troubled mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">I haven’t
written in a while, partly because I’ve had longer periods of good mental
health—but also because I’ve secretly been hoping the dragon has been slayed,
never to return. I fear speaking his name might rouse him from his slumber.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">The truth
is I know the dragon is out there somewhere, still waiting for me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He might even be just beyond those green
waves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-13740703541221727482014-04-25T11:17:00.002-05:002014-04-25T11:17:48.210-05:00The maddening pursuit of normalcy<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I don’t know what good looks
like. I don’t know what normal feels like, either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Finding a “new norm” is one
of the challenges facing the mentally ill on their journey toward
recovery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Take this week. After a few
good months of mental health—a miracle for me—it felt as though recovery was
slipping through my fingers. Not feeling great isn’t the worst part. It’s the
paralyzing fear that things might go south, that the airplane bound for
recovery might slowly lose altitude and nosedive into a fiery crash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Next to the pain of
depression and the madness of anxiety, fear is the most troubling emotion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My therapist has been
helping me deal with fear and establish a “new norm” since my bipolar
diagnosis. For all I know, this squirrelly week may not be too far outside the
norm. Only I wouldn’t know because I’m not sure what normal feels
like.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My doctors at The Menninger
Clinic in Houston told me something important when I left. Relapse is often
part of recovery. In other words, it’s “normal” to have set backs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I’ve only experienced one
really tough relapse since returning from Houston, which is a blessing. It was
painful, but it was brief. If I only experience one or two of those a year, I’ll
take it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The pursuit of normal may be
a futile chase, like me trying to find a destination without a navigation app.
Who’s to say what normal looks like for anyone, much less a bipolar patient
with an anxiety disorder?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We all end up strapped in
roller coasters from time to time, unsure of how we got there. We all feel the
stomach drop when the coaster slowly ticks toward the top of a big hill,
preparing us for what’s to come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We all know the feeling when
it bends over the apex and rushes down in a free fall. All of us. Not just
those of us dealing with a wicked hand of genetic cards we’ve been dealt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">That’s one reason I think we
can all benefit from therapy. Or at least talking to a friend who listens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I’ve had coffee with several
struggling people. I mostly listen. Even though I don’t know what I’m doing,
they all seem to come away feeling better. It’s not anything I do. It’s the
power of telling our story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">All of this advice makes me
a hypocrite this week. I haven’t had the best week, and I haven’t told anyone
how I feel. My wife finally asked me today if I’m okay, and I wasn’t fully
honest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I know a lot of people can
relate. We don’t want to burden others. We don’t want to admit we might be
struggling. We don’t want to scare our loved ones. We don’t want to accept the
reality that every day or every week or every month won’t be a good one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">That’s why I jumped on the
computer today and banged out this blog. It might not be the best one I’ve ever
written, but at least it’s a reminder of something I know to be true.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This disease can’t be
defeated by an army of one.</span></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-52993789765582500582014-04-11T16:07:00.000-05:002014-04-11T16:07:20.543-05:00Finding liberation from the pain of secrets<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve shared a lot here about
the pain countless people have suffered at the hands of a cruel disease.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve also shared how my
recovery really began when I decided to tell my story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Telling my story unloaded a
heavy burden of shame and guilt. As I have shared before, I learned something I
hope and pray others who are hurting come to know. Shame loses its power when
we tell our story. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I get a lot of feedback from
folks who read this blog. Some of the best I’ve ever received came from little
brother, Bill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bill is my hero in many
ways. He’s the smartest and toughest person I know. The only thing bigger than
his boundless personality is his heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There is one more thing
about Bill some of you know and some of you don’t. Bill is gay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He’s on my mind tonight
because I’m on a plane bound for Washington, D.C. to see him. A bunch of other
friends and family will also be making their way to Washington this weekend.
Bill is getting married.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Another reason Bill is on my
mind is I remember a conversation we had about the power of light to ease our
pain and take away our shame.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bill said he and millions of
other gay people could relate to what I had written. They know the pain of
holding onto secrets they should be able to share. They know what it is like to
struggle with figuring out who they are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They know what it’s like to
wonder why they are different and if it’s okay to be different. They know the pain
of finally figuring out who they are but wondering if they can be who they are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I can only imagine how
liberating it must feel to figure out who you are and then share it with family
and friends. My guess is any shame melts away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I think a lot of people can
relate to what Bill must have felt. People who have suffered because they weren’t sure they could be who
they are. People who have been abused but somehow think it’s their fault. People who have
suffered in silence, scared and alone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Part of me hopes this blog
doesn’t offend anyone, but most of me doesn’t really care. All of me hopes
those who are alone with their pain can someday find healing in the light of day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-9924990792463799312014-04-05T21:38:00.001-05:002014-04-05T21:38:24.274-05:00Life is the best gift of all<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I turn 43 on Sunday. This birthday is more special than any other except one I can’t remember. April 6, 1971.</span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve shed a few soft tears, tears of joy and thanksgiving, knowing I have already received the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Life.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve seen vivid snapshots in my mind of all I nearly missed.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would have missed the first dance with my daughter, who looks so beautiful in her mother’s wedding gown, bathed in the soft glow of warm yellow lights neatly strung under a big white tent.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would have missed my middle son’s sheepish grin as he’s inducted into the honor society. And his first high school goal, rocketed past a diving goalie.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would have missed my younger son’s first pitch for his varsity team—and all the times he gently touches my arm and asks if I’m okay, always knowing when I’m not.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would have missed the chance to kiss my wife on the forehead and tell her she’ll be great on the first day of her now job, which starts this summer.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s not all about what I would’ve missed. That’s a little selfish.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My daughter would not have had her father’s arm to cling to as she walked down the aisle.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My middle son would not have had his dad to help guide him through the fear of his first day of high school.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My youngest would not have had a dad to talk to him about his first date, his first big disappointment in life or the colleges he might want to attend.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would have missed so much that makes life worth living, even when it’s sometimes tougher than it should have to be.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would have missed so much if things had turned out differently on September 2, 2013, a day that still haunts me, a day my family wished they could forget but never will.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The second greatest gift on this my 43rd birthday? Two months of good mental health, made possible by perseverance, the love of family and friends, the grace and love of a God who gave me a second chance—and a new drug that seems to be a potent weapon against bipolar disorder.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am so grateful for all of those things.</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thank you, God. Thank you, family and friends. I will think of each of you when I blow out the candles and make a wish from the depths of my healing heart. I love you all.</span></span>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-4251451396658569932014-03-16T15:28:00.000-05:002014-03-16T15:28:39.006-05:00Friends potent medicine against mental illness<span style="font-family: Arial;"><i>A single twig breaks, but a
bundle of twigs is strong</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><i>-Tecumseh</i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A little black book bound in
leather sits on my bedside table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In it are
dozens of handwritten quotes, verses and lyrics. From Tecumseh and the Apostle
Paul to Allison Krauss and Eleanor Roosevelt, it is chock full of uplifting
words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My little black book is one
of my most cherished possessions, given to me by a special friend during my
darkest hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The words have lifted me up
when I was down. They have reminded me that we can lose everything but everything
will be okay. At least long as we have friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ever since we shared my
struggles with the world, friends have inspired us. They have taken care of us.
They have loved us and they have helped us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I had been at the Menninger
Clinic for a day or two when anxiety overwhelmed me. I worried about my wife and
children and felt guilty for the pain I’d caused them. The thought I would be
away from them and from home for weeks was torture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It was hard to focus on my
recovery until I heard the excitement in the voices of my children about their
upcoming trip. They were to leave the following week for a 7-day Disney cruise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Some dear friends who
wouldn’t take no for an answer insisted on an all-expense paid trip for my wife
and children. It turned out to be the trip of a lifetime. More thoughtful
friends brought gift cards for restaurants along the drive to the port. Still
others brought gifts, care packages and hugs. It didn’t cost us a penny.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It was like Christmas
morning for my children, only better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Their trip lifted my spirits
more than anything had in a long time. Knowing they were embarking on the trip
of a lifetime gave me peace and helped me focus on my recovery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Countless other friends
showed their love and support too. They fed us for a month with casseroles and
gift cards. They cleaned our house while my family was sailing toward Mexico.
They cut our grass. They brought breakfast—Pop Tarts, waffles and cereal—so
mornings would be a little easier for my wife.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">They sent notes of
encouragement and prayed for us daily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When I had a chance to
reflect on all our friends have done for us, it made me smile. It also made me
think about so many who suffer in silence with little support.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">They suffer in silence
because of the stigma of mental illness. They feel ashamed. They feel scared to
ask for help, and they don’t. So they suffer alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Soon after my overdose, I
felt God calling me to tell my story. I hoped it would help me cope and give
others hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">What I didn’t understand at
the time is telling our story is the best medicine of all. Shame loses its
power when we drag our problems into the light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And it does so much more
than that. It lets those who love us care for us and pray for us. When we are
not ashamed to admit we are hurting, it lets our friends shower us with love
and hold us up when we can’t stand on our own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Maybe the best thing about
the support of friends and family is what it does for our loved ones who suffer
as much as we do, just in a different way. They need hope and encouragement
too, something friends can only provide if they know mental illness is choking
the life out of a family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I hope someone who is alone
and in agony will find the courage to share his or her story. You don’t have to
start a blog and share your pain with the whole world. But tell a friend. Tell
a family member. Tell a coworker. Tell somebody.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I know it isn’t easy. When
we are depressed, we want to withdraw. We want to isolate. We didn’t even feel
like answering the phone or returning a text.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But knowing we aren’t alone
makes the struggle against mental illness a little bit easier. For me, it has
made all the difference in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-42207396878129523462014-02-21T17:53:00.001-06:002014-02-21T17:54:32.965-06:00Mental illness hurts loved ones, too<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was sifting through banal emails at work,
deleting junk in my inbox.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then one from my wife caught my eye. The subject
line read “Your submission to teen ink.” </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I settled in with a warm cup of coffee, hoping
to find another uplifting poem or story written by our 14-year-old daughter,
Sutton.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then I read the message from my wife at the top of the email. “Check out
her link. It breaks my heart. I hate to think to think she feels this way.” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I
clicked on the link and found this poem she’d written…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;">This thing, </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">This monster,</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">This demon.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Depression.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">It is a black hole, endless and infinite.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">It swallows me whole, </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Shredding my soul.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Ripping my body to pieces.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Thought by thought, </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Word by word, </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">It presses on.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Consuming me. </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Controlling me. </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Changing me.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">This darkness, </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">This plague. </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">It takes over me.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">Until</span> i<span style="background: white;">t
is me. </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">It has conquered me, and it has become me.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">The darkness and I are one.</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: white;">I can't remember how to turn on the lights.</span></span></i></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My heart sank. I felt like I’d been kicked in the
stomach by a horse. I panicked. Thoughts raced through my mind at warp speed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How could I, of all people, have missed the signs?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How long has she felt this way? Did she inherit my disease?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How could this happen to such a bright light in a dark world?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Where can we take her to get help?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My wife sat down with Sutton to talk about
the poem. She insisted it wasn’t about her. It was about her daddy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mixed emotions filled my head after hearing the
news. I was touched that she understood and shared in a profound and powerful
way all that I have felt. I was also troubled when I realized how much young
people sense and know about their parents.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My wife and I had a talk and agreed we had to be
more careful. I had to find a way to “fake it” when possible, although I’m sure
Sutton would see through it. She can see it on my face when I walk in the door
after a difficult day. She senses it even on the weekend, if I’m listless and
disengaged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We decided if we had any disagreements due to the
strain bipolar puts on marriages, we couldn’t have them in front of our kids. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The experience caused me to think about the
devastating impact mental illness has on families. Here’s a sobering statistic for you: Ninety percent of all bipolar people who get married end up
divorced.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I suspect the majority of those divorces happen
because the patient's partners just can’t do it anymore. They can’t endure the manic
highs, which often result in impulsive or reckless behavior. They can’t handle the
devastating lows, which leave their partners wallowing in a pit of misery,
unable to show compassion or emotion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Severe mental illness hurts more than the
patient. It hurts loved ones, too. They pray fervently for help that doesn’t
always come. They lie awake at night, wondering what happened to their husband
or wife, son or daughter. They wonder if it will ever get better, doubting how
it could after failed treatments and years of suffering.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My wife and I have been married for 18 years, but
my illness has taken its toll on our marriage. She’s often left frustrated and exhausted during
times when I’ve struggled to do much more than roll out of bed and get dressed.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mental illness hurts more than spouses. It hurts
children, young ones and old ones with parents who can hardly function and often become a
burden. It is hard for me to imagine how difficult it must be to care for a mentally ill parent years before they reach old age.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Patients like me have all sorts of resources. We
have psychiatrists. We have therapists. We have drugs that may or may not work
but at least give us a chance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Other than therapy, I’m not sure what loved ones
have. They probably don’t have time for therapy either since they often become single
parents by default.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Churches don’t do much—at all—for the 25 percent
of their congregations suffering from mental illness. They do even less for
loved ones hurt and confused by the mental illness sucking the life and joy out
of their homes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I do not have the answers, but chipping away at
the stigma of mental illness is a start. If an individual can’t or won’t let
others know they suffer from mental illness and need prayers and support, they
don’t get any prayers or support. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The reason some never drag their illness out
of the dark and into the light? Stigma. That’s what that word we toss around
really means.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My mind and my prayers aren’t on me tonight. They
are centered on my family and other families struggling to deal with a loved
one’s mental illness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They need our help as much as I do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-19289875234064571352014-02-14T19:13:00.002-06:002014-02-14T19:13:28.402-06:00Your time will come<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You plunged a knife deep
into my chest and cut out my heart. You drained the energy from my being. You
whispered your lies into my ear, and I could not rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You waved your wicked wand
of misery over me as I slept, casting a spell of despair that followed me like
a shadow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You tried to poison my soul.
You filled my mind with doubt and you stole the essence of who I am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You crushed my spirit. You
bludgeoned me into submission, forcing me into the corners of the ring. I hung
helplessly from its ropes, unable to fight back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You have threatened my home,
my family and our deepest longing. Peace and happiness. You have hurt those who
are innocent. This time, you have gone too far.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Your biggest fear will soon
be realized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have had enough. I will
not fight this battle alone anymore. I will suit up every day in the Armor of
God, the One who protects my sanctuary of hope, a sacred place you will never
hurt and never find.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I will be strong again. When
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sword of the Spirit at my side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We will one day fight to the
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end. I will be the victor, and you will be the vanquished.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You have won this battle for
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<br /></div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-33764107798930525992014-01-31T22:53:00.001-06:002014-02-01T08:50:53.768-06:00Life inside an anxious mind<h2>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It’s just a meeting and it’s a week away. It’s not real hard. There’s no reason to be anxious.</b></span></h2>
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<i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">What if everybody hates my idea? I know Fred won’t like my idea. He never likes my ideas. He’ll probably say something ugly, which will make me mad. We’ll get into an argument. I hope I don’t lose my cool when we start arguing. He always says something that sticks in my craw. I already know what he’ll say. I might as well get ready for it. What am I going to say back? I better think of something fast.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Barclay looks tired.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I would ask her what’s wrong but I’m not sure I want to know the answer. I know it was something I did or didn’t do. What did I forget to do? What did I do that made her mad? She’s probably mad because I haven’t told her I loved her in a while. I bet she’s mad because I haven’t helped around the house, either. I know she’s upset because I can’t concentrate on the kids when I’m around them lately. She’s going to say something to me if I don’t say something to her first. But if I say something to her first, she’s going to get mad at whatever I say and we’re going to get in a fight. I’m not saying anything.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My son’s basketball coach just yelled at him. I’m not going to let that bother me. It’s part of growing up and learning from adversity.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I can’t believe that idiot yelled at my son. He doesn’t even know anything about basketball. I’ve forgotten more about basketball than he ever knew. I’m going to say something after the game. Not sure what I’m going to say, but I’m going to say something. He’s going to get mad, but I don’t care. If he shoves me, I’m not sure I can turn my cheek. I might shove him back. Then he might come after me. When he does, I’ll either get somebody to help me or I’ll run to the car. I’ll have to go to the city and tell them he can’t be a coach another day. I’m going to get banned from the gym but I don’t care because we aren’t playing for this jackass anymore.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There’s dog hair all over my clean socks again. I’ll let it go this time, even though this dogs sheds faster than a stripper in Vegas.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I can’t let this go. I’m sick of having dog hair all over the house and all over my stuff. Why can’t we just have an outside dog? I swear my wife likes the dog more than she likes me. I’m going to build a kennel outside so the dog can spend more time where she belongs. My wife’s not going to like it. I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of it. We’ll probably get in an argument and she’ll point out I never clean anything anyway. I don’t think I’ll say anything.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We’re doing bench press at Crossfit today. Maybe I’ll get a new personal record.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Oh no. We’re doing bench press at Crossfit today. This is my worst exercise. There are girls here who can lift more than I do. No way I’m going for a personal record. It will be humiliating when I try. What if the bar gets stuck on my chest? I can’t ask for a spot because everyone will see how little weight I use. I’ll never look like those other guys that for some reason take their shirts off all the time, even when they aren’t even changing clothes. Why do they do that? Maybe I’m secretly jealous because there is no way in hell I’m taking my shirt off. I think I’ll just skip Crossfit today.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I’m going to write a blog about what it’s like to live in my head.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">No way I can write about what it’s like to live inside my head. People will think I’m a lunatic. Mom will probably call. Is this normal? Other people sure don’t look like they have paralyzing anxiety. They look calm and confident. They look like they aren’t thinking about anything but what they’re doing right now. Must be nice.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Surely somebody can relate. Or maybe they can’t. I can’t write about life inside an anxious mind because it’s too hard to explain. Maybe it doesn’t matter. People already know I’m a bipolar alcoholic with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. And that I have the shakes. I don’t even know why I write this blog. Am I embarrassing my family and myself? I think I’ll quit doing it.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">What if I ever have to apply for a new job? I’m screwed when that happens. All they have to do is Google my name and they won’t even take my call. They might change their number. I wonder how long until I have to apply for a new job? Maybe I need to get my resume together. Damn. That’s going to take forever because I never wrote down when I started a new job or what I did at my old jobs. Does anybody even have that information? If I get it wrong they’ll think I lied on my resume, and then nobody will hire me. I better sit down and pray right now I never have to get another job. That's going to be a nightmare.</i></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-86519978074681378032014-01-26T20:45:00.001-06:002016-05-24T17:16:17.903-05:00Saving Grace<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>The essay below was written by my 14-year-old daughter. She didn't tell me she'd written it, or that she submitted it to teenink.com, a website that selects and features the work of talented teens. This weekend, her essay was voted the website's #1 memoir. It also received an Editor's Choice award. I'm proud of her courage, her honesty and her willingness to share it.</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b>By Sutton Smith</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I don’t know how to do a lot of stuff lately. I don’t know how to write this paper. I don’t know how to cope with the fact that my father tried to kill himself. I don’t know how I’m supposed to somehow act like an adult for a month while my father is away. I just don’t know anymore. And sometimes, it’s okay not to know. It’s okay that you don’t have every bit of your life planned out yet. It’s okay that you don’t know what tomorrow will hold, and it’s okay not to try to figure it out.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">As soon I saw my mom sprint to the car and speed off down the road in her bathing suit, I knew something had to be seriously wrong. I had just been sitting down on the dock, enjoying a lake day and talking trash about my father. He was supposed to have been at the lake by then, and I was just having a jolly old time talking about how irresponsible and immature he was to be running late yet again. Once mom left without even a glance in our direction, I knew something was wrong. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I ran up to the house to confront my grandmother, who happened to be walking down the steps coming to meet me. A completely calm expression was spread on her face, as if she didn’t have a single worry in the world. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">“Mimi, what’s going on?” I questioned her, worried and out of breath. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">“Well, the neighbors went to the house to check on your daddy, since he hasn’t been picking up the phone. They think that he accidentally took too many sleeping pills, so they called 911.” Mimi must’ve seen the pained expression on my face, for she quickly tried to cover up what she’d just said. “But honey, he’s gonna be fine. The ambulance picked him up a few minutes ago. They’re just being safe.”</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I brushed past her without another word and ran into my room. I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower to keep Jackson and Manning from hearing my sobs. I dropped down on my knees and pleaded to God with everything I had to save my daddy. I knew it was because of what I had said about him only a few minutes ago that this was happening. I hardly knew what was wrong, other then he “accidentally” took too many pills. I knew about the depression that my dad struggled with. Accidentally taking too many pills sounded like a bunch of bull to me. I still knew that somehow this was punishment to me. He was going to die, and it would be my fault.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I sat on the bathroom floor and tried to pull myself together. I couldn’t let my younger brothers, Jackson and Manning, suspect that anything serious was wrong. I washed my face and tried to calm down. I went up and told them that Dad had been sent to the hospital for “accidentally” taking too much medicine. The thought that he had done it on purpose was gnawing away at me, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. After reassuring Jackson and Manning, all I wanted to do was to go back to Auburn so I could see Dad. But Mimi’s orders were to sit tight until we got a call telling us we could come in.</span><br />
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<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">After about three and a half eternities passed, the call finally came. We loaded up and sped back to Auburn, only to be sentenced to an anxious day of sitting at our house. Finally, I got a call from my mom. I answered the phone with a shaky voice and sweaty hands. Mom told me that Dad would have to stay in the hospital for a few days, but he would live. I suddenly blurted out the only thing that I really wanted to know. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">“Did he do it on purpose?” I asked. At this point I was starting to feel light-headed.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">“Baby, we don’t know for sure yet, but it’s looking like it,” Mom said.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I’m not really sure what happened in that moment. Mom told me it was okay to be upset, or to be mad at Dad, but I wasn’t either. I just stood there, stunned. I hung up the phone when I felt the tears spill over. I wasn’t upset exactly. I felt like I was detached from the whole situation, like an “is this really happening to me” kind of thing. But I knew it was. I knew this was real. I knew what he’d done. I could feel the weight of it bearing down on my chest, cracking my bones and making it hard to breathe.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">That first night Dad was in ICU, and then the crazy people part of the hospital for a few nights after that, so I wasn’t allowed to see him at all. I talked to him on the phone one time for a few minutes. The sound of his cracking, shaky voice nearly drove me insane. I had never heard him like that. He was supposed to be the man of the house, strong and courageous and overprotective. Instead he was broken, a shell of a man. He was vulnerable and scared.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Those few days my dad was in the hospital were incredibly hard for me. Jackson and Manning had no idea what was going on. For them, this was just a minor bump in the road. At home, I had to be a big girl and play pretend like everything was fine. In the evenings when Mom was home from her beyond stressful day spent at the hospital, I couldn’t bring myself to burden her with my feelings. I locked everything up inside and threw away the key.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">All people kept telling me was how loved I was, and how they were praying for us, and how everything would be okay. I appreciated their kindness, but it got to the point that it was completely monotone and too overused to mean anything. They said that once Dad came home, all he would need was to be loved on. Deep down I knew that was true, but parts of me didn’t want to love him. He deserved to be punished, and he deserved to feel the pain that I had felt that week. He deserved to know that he was the reason that that awful day had been the worst of my life.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">But I was wrong. All he needed was love. That’s all anybody needs. That’s all anybody wants, really. They want somebody else to want them. They want to feel like they belong somewhere, like somebody desires to be with them and be around them. That’s all Dad wanted, so that’s what we gave him.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Now, he’s on the road to recovery. The only explanation that I have for how he has recovered so quickly is this: Jesus. Our whole family has been so incredibly blessed. Now I know what it means to rejoice in your sufferings. This ordeal has restored my faith in humanity and in the power of prayer. I have seen the hand of God work right before my eyes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Dad returned from a clinic a couple months ago with new medicine and a new reason to get out of bed in the morning. His blog on his depression has gone viral, and it’s helping people all over. He’s an inspiration to so many people, and I’m proud to be his daughter. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">That doesn’t mean that any of us have healed yet, or that we will anytime soon. I still don’t think I’ve fully comprehended exactly what happened. But I do know that love is powerful, and my God is bigger than any problems that I or anybody else may face. We’ll get through this and every other hardship together, as a family.</span>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784355329617757161.post-57106685681795899402014-01-23T15:54:00.000-06:002014-01-26T10:27:08.184-06:00Why I'm on shaky ground<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s a good thing I am not a
brain surgeon. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">I would get sued every day.
I would probably maim or kill my patients.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If I were any kind of doctor,
or toy assembler or jewelry repairman, I’d have a major problem on my hands. In
fact, my hands are the problem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s weird that I’m able to
come on this blog and share everything about my mental illness, but I’ve been
shaky about writing this one. Just like my hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My hands shake morning, noon
and night. They shake when I’m nervous. They shake when I’m not nervous. They
shake when I’m at a cocktail party I want to attend like I want my toenails
ripped off. They shake when I’m by myself watching football. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I finish my workout at
Crossfit, after I’ve embarrassed myself in other ways, they shake even more.
Same with yard work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s become a big joke in my
house. My kids love to point out how much I’m shaking. When I carry two dishes
to the kitchen, they laugh as the dishes rattle and clank like a china factory
in an earthquake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My kids and my wife are the
only people who can get away with mocking me. Anyone else does, and I get
self-conscious—as if I need another reason.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve had a tremor as long as
I can remember. Kids made fun of me when I was little. I should’ve served those
guys a shaky knuckle sandwich, but I took it all in stride and felt humiliated.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I once asked the doctor
about it, and he explained that I have a benign familial tremor. In other
words, the shakes run in the family and I won't die from it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s been a much bigger
problem lately for another reason. I take 1,200 milligrams of Lithium every day
for bipolar, and it makes it a lot worse.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My current doctor has been
trying to find the right meds to minimize my shakes. I took a blood pressure
medicine called Propranolol for a while. It helped for a few hours, but as soon
as I got on Lithium it got a lot worse. So now I’m on another drug. It seemed
to help for a while but the shakes have come back with a vengeance.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The worst part about it is
my shakes have given me a drinking problem. Not that kind of drinking problem.
I haven’t had a drink in four months. I’m like Ted Stryker from Airplane.
Unless I’m drinking out of a bottle or a really big cup I can clutch, I
struggle to get a drink to my mouth without spilling it everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is becoming a problem.
If I’m at a luncheon or a dinner, I just don’t drink anything. My hand shakes
too much when I try and lift the glass to my mouth and I end up making a
spastic motion to get it there or spill it all over my shirt.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve learned to eat a whole
meal without so much as a sip of water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have strategies, but they
don’t always work. I’ll go to the table before other guests get there, hold my
glass with two hands and chug as much as I can. If I can get half of it down,
sometimes I’m able to take a few sips during the meal. I’ve got no chance if
the glass is filled up all the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve learned the hard way
that I can no longer walk around the office holding a cup of coffee. First of
all, I look like a trapeze artist trying to walk a tight rope. That’s how hard
I have to concentrate and how careful I have to walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If I’m clutching a cup of
warm coffee and someone wants to shake my hand, I’m cooked. I can’t do the
right-to-left hand transfer because my left hand is worse than the right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sometimes even just holding
a cup of coffee while I’m standing still is a problem. I was walking up the stairs
at work recently and a friendly coworker stopped to chat. I didn’t listen to a
thing she said. Sure enough, I got a major tremor and coffee spilled all over
the place. That was really fun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 200%;">So if you see me shaking, I’m
probably not nervous at all. At least until you point out my shaking hands.</span></div>
</div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com7