the Black Dog

I'm a regular guy and most days, I'm pretty okay. Some days, I battle depression. I've always been fond of Winston Churchill's reference to this as his "black dog" - proof to me that even great men battle their demons and that a productive and even happy life is not impossible with the occasional bout with the Black Dog. Here then is where I battle mine.

Friday, September 09, 2011

Tentpole

So it's my job to be the tentpole. I learned this job from my father. Everyone seems to need for me to keep them up and to never let their worlds seem fragile.

I started to say to my wife today that the burden was a little too heavy right now. My mom has been diagnosed with cancer. I have some sort of something in me that may need surgical investigation. Funds are always an issue. The whole family is stressed about something.

But honestly, it is too much for her too.

Who do I see when it's too much for me and no one can handle it when I break?

What did men do when it wasn't okay to be whiney weaklings like me?

My Dad always says "Drive On"

So I guess I'll just do that. Carry on.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Other People Are Better Writers

So this one time, a while back, I went to a talk by Guy Kawasaki at the Houston Technology Center. It was really cool to be there because I got to see a ton of people I only knew online. Sort of the Houston blogtelligencia. And I got to sit a few rows behind this amazing writer who goes by the nickname "the bloggess" but didn't get to actually meet her.

So, of course, everyone I met that night (or saw) became so much cooler and more worthy of reading their writings. None more than the bloggess though. She is blisteringly funny in a way I'll never be. But I do read her religiously even if I envy her breezy charm. And unique phrasing.

Today she wrote something about mental illness. It's at

http://thebloggess.com/2011/01/coming-out/

Go ahead. Read it. I'll wait. And when you're done, go ahead and read Lori's blog too. It's more important than mine.

So, I read Lori's blog because of my never met her friend. And it broke my heart.

My wife once told me about a fellow in our neighborhood who went out in his car and blew his brains out. The family was having money problems and he felt he had failed them. And she said "I can't understand how he could possibly feel that bad and do that, can you?" And I said, "no. it's very sad" but I meant and thought: "of course I can, every guy does."

I think occasional thoughts of suicide are not that unusual for the human condition. I think it randomly goes through our brains as options fly through them. I think some of us actually think about it for a few minutes. I think most of us reject it out of hand because what we're really wishing for is a break that will take the difficulties of life away, not the end of our lives. And for some, I think it is a real possibility.

Understand, I am not one of those people. It crosses my mind from time to time. But I know it to be an inherently selfish act and one that is never justified. I believe in living to fight another day. That nothing so silly as a pile of bills is worth dying for. But I totally get the feeling that failing the one's you love makes you worthless. Very little cuts me more than when I feel that way. And I get that if you teeter on the line between it crossing your mind and seriously considering it, it would be pretty easy to tip over the wrong way.

Sometimes I wish to be released from my burdens. And sometimes I forget my joys. And sometimes i whine here when it gets to be too much. But I won the battle over despair.

I got treatment for my depression a decade or so ago. And while I have bad days, and sometimes Churchill's black dog has me, I did what Lori asked us all to do and got help.

Please do so too...