Living with an ABI

Tags

ABI, Acquired Brain Injury, Anxiety, concussion, Depression, Mental Health

Hey everyone. It’s been a while. I am sitting here in the WPL (Waterloo Public Library) my mind racing knowing I should write something but at the same time being unsure about what I should write. You see, writing is therapeutic and as a therapist I know the value of writing. However, I don’t really feel like it all the time, hence why it has been such a long time between posts.

I think I am going to just stay on point and give everyone an update about the last year of my life. There will be A LOT of things omitted because I really want to focus on the difficulties I have had dealing with an ABI (acquired brain injury) and how this has affected my life, relationships. career and mental health. If I don’t stay focused on those things, this blog probably never end because…well…I like to talk. 😉

So just over a year ago I suffered a concussion at work. It was my first concussion in probably 15 years, give-or-take. After seeing the doctor and being diagnosed with a concussion I was told to take the rest of the week off and see how I felt on Monday. I thought I would be off for a few days and then get back at it…I was off for 3 months! Apparently, having multiple concussions makes it much more difficult to heal and the symptoms are worse the more you get. You see, when I was a kid, I played a lot of sports. I remember getting hit multiple times in minor hockey and feeling like something was off. The advice back then, “Shake it off.” “Don’t be a pussy, you’re fine.” “You just had your bell rung, skate it off.” Man, how wrong was that. Luckily things are changing and the high profile cases of concussions in sport is making people see that a concussion isn’t something you can just “shake off”. It’s serious. It’s a brain injury. And there can be life long consequences.

During those 3 months I was doing physio, chiropractic and psychotherapy. I needed the psychotherapy because of my previous struggles with mental health. When you get an ABI your mental health symptoms are exacerbated. So it was like going through a major depressive episode but not able to do all the things that helped me cope the last time. I couldn’t read, write, exercise, play with my kids, go to church or even have in-depth conversations. I was irritable (that’s putting it lightly), hypersensitive to light and sound, unable to filter what was going on around me, I couldn’t engage with people, couldn’t sleep and was basically low all the time. The part that was the most difficult was not being around my family. I spent a lot of time at friend’s and family’s places because with a 4, 2, and newborn, there was a lot of noise and commotion at my place. Plus, this was over Christmas last year so I missed a lot.

It took a long time to get back to “normal” (whatever that means) and eventually I started doing a graduated schedule at work to try and work up to full-time. Work was super supportive of me and were extremely thoughtful. So when I eventually made it back to work, full-time, I started to realise a few things:

• It took me longer to learn things.
• Things I knew how to do took me longer.
• I was mentally fatigued a lot.
• I’d forget things.
• I was irritable.

I was plagued by insecurity and was constantly worried that people didn’t want to work with me. So I would push myself at work both physically and mentally but I would have literally nothing left when I got home. The last thing I wanted to do was to then emotionally invest into my kids and wife. But I didn’t know what else to do. After a few months, I was generally symptom free most days. I wasn’t perfect but I was better. Then in September, I was putting my kids in their car seats and my foot slipped when I was in the van. I fell backwards and slammed my head on the door frame of the car. My wife looked at me and asked, “What was that?” I responded, “Oh nothing. Just my head.” I immediately had a sore neck but that was it. However, within about an hour, the all too familiar symptoms came flooding back like a tsunami. I had a wicked headache, was nauseous and couldn’t stand the light. I started to cry and told my wife we had to go home because I think I have another concussion. So we packed up the kids and she drove us all home. That was a Saturday. On Monday I went in to work early and told my boss what had happened. He told me to take it easy and keep myself safe. My wife made an appointment with my doctor that morning so I left work and headed to the appointment. I was shaking because I didn’t want to go through this all again. Sure enough, the doctor told me, “You definitely have a concussion.” I walked out of the office and sat in the van for a while. Just staring out the window, contemplating life and began to cry. I called my wife and told her what was up. We jumped into concussion protocol at home and started to look at what we were going to do for the interim to get life back on track.

That was over 2 months ago…and I am no closer to getting back to “normal”. I don’t write this for sympathy…just to share my story and hopefully provide an opportunity for people to learn something. What that is, I don’t know. One of the most frustrating things I have discovered is that throughout my adult life whenever I have had to miss significant time from work, it was due to an invisible illness. There are so many parallels between struggling with a mental illness and suffering with a concussion. It is so frustrating being asked, “So when do you think you will be back to work?” Because I really don’t know. It’s not like I have a cast that will someday come off. It’s not that simple and I am constantly trying to prove to people that I am not well. It’s exhausting. It’s frustrating. It’s depressing.

But I am trying. I know I am not the same person I was a year ago. I sometimes have difficulty remembering who that person was. Should I even bother trying to get to know that person again? Or is he gone? It just seems that the more answers I seek the more questions I find. It breaks my heart when my kids look into my eyes and ask me to play…and I can’t. They ask me to read to them…and I can’t. Or when they act like kids and I just can’t be around them. It sucks.

Feel free to message me or ask me any questions about what I am going through. I am usually down for a cup of coffee and a chat. Thanks for taking the time to read this and remember to show grace to everyone you meet because you never know what someone is going through.

Ryan

Millennials…be offended…and do something about it.

Tags

Millennials

So this blog is a little different than most of my other ones.  I am not going to be writing about mental health or my own struggles associated with it, per se.  Even though I have a copious amount of ammo in the reserves just from the last few weeks.  No.  I have decided to write this message to “Millennials” specifically but also to older generations who seem to criticize this demographic without really taking any responsibility for raising them to be so “thin skinned”.

DISCLAIMER: I was born in 1983 so I am not sure whether or not I am a millennial or Generation Xer.  I identify as a millennial but I could easily not be.  Anyways, I relate with millennials a great deal because I have spent so much of my life working with this generation.  So, for me, it is easy to see and empathize with the problems that millennials face but also realize that my generation could’ve exasperated their problems.  Here we go…

I work with youth in various different settings and I have been doing this for more than half my life.  Started as a Sunday school teacher and camp counselor in my tweens up until the present day as an outreach worker and therapist.  One thing I have noticed is this overarching theme, especially by conservative pundits and people who may not necessarily understand brain development, is that millennials are too easily offended.  Now I would argue that millennials are not more offended than other generations, but, how they deal with this offense is what has changed over time.

Hear this millennials: It’s okay to be offended…but…don’t expect other people to accommodate your emotional insecurities.  You will spend so much time and energy on trying to get other people to change, so that you are not offended, rather than putting all of this time and energy into your own growth and development as a person.  If you are offended by what someone says, saying to them, “You can’t say that because that’s offensive.”  Do you really think that is going to help anyone?  I would implore you to let the offence marinate for a while.  Ask yourself some tough questions, such as: Why am I offended by this?  Is what this person said actually true?  What can I do to make a positive impact in this world?

I came to these conclusions over time, they didn’t come quickly but they were formed over many years and experiences.  I used to be that guy who would tell people what they can and cannot say because it was offensive.  I realised that this approach was extremely ineffective and I ended being more easily offended again and again and again.  So that’s when I took a step back and tried to tackle these offenses another way.  I really began to focus on how I was treating others.  How I was impacting the world.  How I was speaking to people I did not agree with.  What I found (and yes I am aware that this may be purely anecdotal) is that by focusing my time and energy into how I was treating others, instead of trying to convince others to change their point of view, I was less offended and could really see how things around me were changing in a positive way.

Here is an example: LGBTQ rights.  Now I was offended by how others spoke of this community, how they were characterized and the total lack of empathy and respect that were shown to this group.  Now I could’ve stayed offended and wasted a ton of valuable time arguing with people about how LGBTQ people should be treated…or…I began to wrestle with my own prejudices, perspective and biases towards LGBTQ people.  I started to see that even though I didn’t use language towards this group that some would find offensive…I wasn’t actively advocating for equal rights.  Which, in the end, is what really matters.  I had to start with changing me (I know that sounds cheesy) before I could begin to impact the thoughts and opinions of others.

You see, being offended is not only okay, it is normal and can be a great motivator.  Some of the greatest (and worst mind you) social changes that have occurred have happened due to people being offended in some way shape or form.  Large movements have started out small and then grown; the snowball effect.  Maybe millennials struggle with this concept of starting small and slowly building up when they have been saturated their entire lives, at no fault of their own, with an instant gratification mindset.  But if you want to find satisfaction in life and to not get so easily offended…then you have to start small and really dig deep into what kind of positive impact you are having in your communities.  Jesus talked about this.  Basically, treat people the way you want to be treated.  Or in layman’s terms…don’t be a dick.

So older generations…give millennials a break.  It’s not their fault that you raised them to be so easily offended and entitled.

Millennials…be offended.  It won’t kill you.  Just use the offence to make a positive impact in your life and those around you.

P.S. Check out this link that expands on some of my ideas.  It’s 15 minutes, which isn’t really that long…but may seem like a lifetime to millennials. ;P

Maya Luise…my little “Princess Warrior”

Tags

baby, family, Maya, Mennonite

Sooooooooo…It’s been a while.  So here it goes.

This isn’t going to be a blog about my seemingly ongoing fight with depression and anxiety.  I’ll save that for another day.

Today, it’s about my daughter.  Maya Luise Schmidtke was born on June 11, 2016 at 1110 am weighing 5 lbs and 11 oz.  Pretty tiny but what do you expect when she was 2 & a half weeks early?  Funny story…she was actually born in KW while we were visiting my in-laws to celebrate Herbert’s (aka Herb) retirement.  We had been planning to deliver in Walkerton but Maya (and God) had other plans.

It all stated around 1 am when Oliver (our now eldest child and proudest big brother in the world) was crying.  I, was happily asleep completely unaware of Oliver’s cries.  Once I am out, I am out.  Like a log, except more difficult to wake up.  Anyways, Melinda gets up to go check on Oli and after another 10 minutes of him screaming I awoke extremely frustrated that Melinda was just letting Oliver cry.  When suddenly I hear, “Ryan! Go get Oliver!” I sleepily stumbled out of my bed and retrieved the heir to my kingdom thinking, “She called me Ryan.  She never calls me Ryan.  Something must be up.”  Instead of investigating further, I decided to do what any good father would.  I scooped Oliver, hugged him and put him back to sleep in our bed, because I figured it would be easier for me to lay down in on our bed then trying to squeeze into the pack-n-play that Oliver was sleeping in.  Plus, my in-laws have hardwood floors, so there really isn’t a place to lay down.  I know…first world problems.

After several moments and after I had fallen back asleep, Melinda comes barging in, rudely waking me up.  She then informed me in the most gentle and kindest way possible that her water broke and we should go to the hospital.  My first reaction…was…well…I laughed.  O, I also shrugged my shoulders.  So we made sure Irma (Melinda’s mum) knew what was going on.  She was really excited for us but also stressed because of the big party that was going to be taking place at her home in the next several hours.  So off we went…maneuvering all of the stupid road construction, LRT construction and the drunken university students who were just only “starting” their night.

We made it to the hospital and after some searching (because after all, if all the roads are under construction, the hospital has to be as well) we made it to the maternity ward.  I may not be 100% sure about this next part because everything was a blur but I am pretty sure the nurse asked us if we could make it back to Walkerton to deliver the baby.  I mean it was only an hour & a half drive.  What could possibly happen in that amount of time.  Anyways, the admitted us and started doing some tests.  Now luckily for us, Melinda had tested positive for something (I don’t remember what, I was tired after all, being woken up so rudely and whatnot).  It meant that, as the nurse put it, “You ain’t leaving without a baby.”  You see, Melinda hadn’t started having contractions yet, so they planned to send us home.  But because she had tested positive for whatever it was, the hospital policy is to induce.  So we waited a few more hours in a room to see if Melinda would progress naturally.  She didn’t so she was induced at 710 am and Maya was born 4 hours later without any complications.

After a few hours of taking turns sleeping in the hospital room and having a few family members come and visit, in true Mennonite fashion we decided to go to Herbert’s (aka Herb’s) retirement party because…why not.  I basically walked into the house full of what seemed like 60 people, ate a massive plate of pulled pork and passed out for the night.  I figured with all of the Tante’s and Oma’s being there, Maya (& Melinda) were in good hands.  And I was really tired after all.  I had a tough day.

O…right, the point of this blog: the meaning/significance of Maya’s name.

Well the name Maya is actually common around the world.  Many different cultures and languages have a different meaning or variation of spelling.  We chose to honour the Arabic meaning of the name which means “Princess”.  Luise is the German spelling of  Louise and is also Irma’s (Melinda’s mum) middle name.  It means “Renowned Warrior”.  So there you have it.  Maya Luise is our little “Princess Warrior”…kinda like Xena…but probably has much more kick ass capabilities.

WTF: A synopsis of the last 6 months.

Tags

Anxiety, Depression, Faith, Job Loss, Mental Health

I can’t even begin to comprehend the last 6 months.  Like seriously, WTF.  It all started over a year ago.  I was searching for a change.  I was feeling discontented with my job and in a word, bored.  My background is working with youth who struggle with addictions and mental health.  It is a fairly narrow niche so sometimes the opportunities are sparse. So when an opportunity came up to work with a brand new addiction treatment program for youth, I jumped at the opportunity and applied.  After my initial interview, which was over 3 hours long, I felt extremely positive and began thinking about the serious possibility of uprooting my young family and moving to a new community; both physically and spiritually.  A few days passed, then a few weeks so I decided to give one of my interviewers a call.  Apparently there was a funding issue and they did not want me to quit my job, move and then have the program shut down.  It made sense to us so we let it be.  We kept in contact every so often and found out that they were applying for licensing and if the licence was granted then they could move ahead with hiring.

Several months passed and I ended up moving into a different position with the company that I was working with at the time.  It was a new role for me and it really stretched me.  Then in August of last year, while on a vacation at the family cottage, I got this “itch” to reach out to the program I was interviewed at several months earlier.  I was told that they are in need of male staff with my experience and that there had been a leadership change within the organization.  I went for an impromptu interview and they continued to apologize for not contacting me sooner because somehow my information had not been transitioned during the leadership change.  Again, there was a hold up in the official hiring because they were still waiting on the licensing.  However, this time, they actually had a date for the audit.  After the audit occurred and the license was granted I was offered a full-time position.  After several lengthy discussions with my wife, friends, family, co-workers and pastors, we decided to accept the job, sell our home and move.

We were so excited.  It was an adventure.  Everything ended up going so smoothly that we knew there must be a purpose for us taking this leap.  Our house sold without putting it on the market for substantially more than what we purchased it for, I was able to give my work enough notice to help with the transition to a new worker, I was able to negotiate some better perks into my new contract and we found a house that was going to suit our future needs for a fraction of the price it would have cost in the city we were living in.  We even found out that we were going to be having our second child.  Things were looking up.  And then it all came crashing down…

I was supposed to start full-time on November 16th.  On November 11th, I received a text saying that there was an emergency staff meeting planned for the next day.  I was still working at my other job so I wasn’t going to be able to make it.  So I texted back and said that I couldn’t make it and asked what was up.  The text I received back sent chills down my spine and I immediately knew something was wrong.  The text said that they could not discuss with me the reason for the meeting and the program director would be in contact with me later the next day.  The hairs on my neck stood up.  I started driving home and began to think about all the possibilities that could be.  None were positive.  My curiosity got the best of me so I pulled over and called my soon-to-be supervisor.  She kept telling me that she couldn’t discuss it with me and that she was not at liberty to divulge any more information.  I was starting to panic and for those of you have experienced anxiety attacks before the all too familiar tightening of my chest began and I was struggling to breath.  I thought I was going to be sick.  I took several deep breaths, hooked up my BlueTooth and began driving home.  A few minutes later I received a call from my soon-to-be supervisor.  She said that she had went to her car to call me so that other staff would not overhear her call.  I was told that the centre was closing.  They were out of money and could no longer function even with the licensing.  I was in total shock and disbelief.  It didn’t make any sense.  She kept apologizing and I assured her that I understood that it was not her fault and that this decision was out of her control.  It still didn’t help me figure out what I was going to tell my wife when I got home.  I walked through the door and my beautiful, pregnant wife was lying on the couch reading a book to our toddler.  She saw the look on my face and knew something was amiss.  I told her the news and she thought I was joking.  When the shock wore off for us we both broke down and started to weep.  I don’t think either of us got any sleep that night.

The next day I went to the staff meeting.  I had informed my current supervisor that I need the day off and headed north.  At the meeting we were all told that the news that I already knew.  I am not going to discuss all the details but just know that the situation sucked.  Luckily, I was still able to keep my current job for a time so that we had a steady income coming in.  However, we now owned a home with no way to pay for that home.  My wife spoke to our lawyer and we were told that we were pretty much screwed.  We could back out of the purchase of our home but we would probably be sued if we did.  So several weeks after finding out I no longer had a job, we moved.  WTF.

Now for someone who struggles with depression and anxiety, this situation was not ideal to say the least.  It sucked and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t go to some dark places at times.  I ended up couch surfing for several weeks while my wife and son were living in our new home.  I looked for work in that area and a colleague from the job I was supposed to start pointed me in the direction of a job connected to the hospital.  So I applied, had an interview and was offered the job.  Things were looking up again. Or so I thought.

My first several weeks were mostly just training and orientation. But when I actually started working on the floor I knew pretty quick that this was not a job I could see myself doing for a long time.  It didn’t feel right.  Either I wasn’t a good fit or the job wasn’t a good fit for me but something was off.  At this point I didn’t have a ton of options so I decided to stay positive and attempt to insert my personality and gifts somehow into the workplace.  It didn’t really work.  Eventually I started to notice that my anxiety was increasing and I would be having anxiety attacks on my way to work or even at work.  Probably 90% of the job was administration and this is not an area which I love.  I am and was more interested in talking with people and seeing if they needed support, rather than completing the enormously redundant administration requirements.  I did get them done but they were not a priority of mine.  Yet I think the most difficult part of that job was the toxicity of the workplace itself.  I have worked in various fields across different sectors during my adulthood.  Everything from machine shops, treatment programs, jails and industrial plants but this place was by far the absolute worst for the toxic environment amongst employees.  The snide comments, the gossip and the underlying tension of bitterness and resentment amongst staff was starting to get to me.  It was draining and no matter how positive or determined I was, it was still toxic and making me sick.  Even though I was encountering all of these problems I was still doing my job and was receiving positive reviews from my supervisor.  Which made it all the more confusing when I was called last Thursday and told that I was being let go.  I was in shock.  I was told that I wasn’t a good fit for the job and in the long-term  I would be much happier somewhere else.  I didn’t really know what to say because I agreed with what I was told and I also felt relieved.  It wasn’t until I hung up the phone when it hit me.  WTF.  Long term I couldn’t see myself doing this job but that didn’t mean I couldn’t do it short-term, you know, until I find something else.  So again, in the span of 5 months I had to go tell my wife that I had lost my job.

There have been a lot of emotions over the last several days and one blessing is that I have been able to pick up some part-time work doing one-to-one work with youth.  Which is something but not a lot at this point. I’m not really sure where to go from here and it is times like these that I am constantly plagued by doubt and the vicious downward spiral continues to spin.  People keep telling me that it will work out or that God has a plan.  But how do they know?  I don’t.  I guess for now I will just have to wait and see what’s next on this roller coaster of life.  Hopefully the next little while is nothing like the last 5 months.

Seriously. WTF.

• Ryan

 

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.” A poem.

Tags

Christianity, Christmas, Faith, religion

I got the idea for this poem shortly before Christmas.  It started out as a way for me to vent my frustrations with all the rhetoric I hear every Christmastime.  This so-called, “War on Christmas” and how Christians, especially in North America are being persecuted when someone says, “Happy Holiday’s” or “Seasons Greetings” instead of “Merry Christmas.”  (On a side note: if you truly believe you are being persecuted because someone says something other than “Merry Christmas” to you…you have NEVER been persecuted before.)  Anyways, as I began to write down some of my thoughts from what I see as hypocrisy from Christians, whether they classify themselves Conservative or Liberal, Right or Left and all of the other labels on the spectrum (which is a completely different subject and rant for another day) this piece began to be more introspective.  As I was easily able to quip about the so-called “struggles” Christians in North America are facing, I could not completely exclude my self from a critique.  I may not advocate for war but how well do I know my neighbours?

I look forward to the comments and discussions that arise from this poem.  My suggestion is that whether you love it or loathe it, read it with an open mind.

Blessings.

Stop Saying, Keep CHRIST in Christmas.

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
And then go beat the drums to war.
Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
And then walk by and neglect the poor.

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
And then oppress others by what you wear.
Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
And then hoard all you have and refuse to share.

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When you don’t even know your neighbours name.
Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
And then burden others with judgments and shame.

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
And then turn your back on someone who is gay.
Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
And then proudly account all the tithes that you pay.

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When money is the goal for in which you strive.
Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When people in our community struggle to survive.

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When the latest gizmo or gadget has become a “must”.
Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When you won’t stand up against laws that are unjust.

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When gossip, lies and slander is all that you spew.
Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When you blame all Muslims for the acts of just a few.

Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When acquiring more and more becomes your life’s mission.
Stop saying, “Keep CHRIST in Christmas.”
When you can’t even keep CHRIST in Christian.

So I am not healed…now what?

Tags

Christianity, Depression, Mental Health, religion

In an earlier blog I spoke briefly about the concept of Christian duty.  I just touched on it because it is a thought that I have been wrestling with for some time and it needs more time and space for me to articulate my thoughts fully.  My experience with Christian duty was something formed in me long ago.  But as I got older and realised that life is usually more complicated than it appears to be, my thoughts and worldview have changed.  Especially in terms of Christian duty.  I’ll give you a scenario of what I mean:

I tell a Christian brother or sister that I am struggling with depression and anxiety.  Their response is more often than not one or both of these.  “Here’s a verse (usually Philippians 4:6).”  And/or, “I’ll pray for you.”  Now don’t get me wrong, scripture and prayer are two massively important tools and resources to help with life’s struggles.  However, this is where it gets kind of awkward.  After I have read the scripture and have had someone pray for me, I am still struggling with depression and anxiety.  So what now?  A few weeks may pass and I speak to this friend again.  I tell them that I am still struggling and it’s like they look at me with bewilderment and are backpedaling to find the words to say.  You see, they have fulfilled what they believe to have been their Christian duty.  They prayed for me and gave me a scripture that may have helped them in their past.  Now they don’t know what to do or say to help.  And this my friends is the perfect place to be.  You know why?  Because I don’t know what they can do or to say to help either.

I practiced the above mentioned Christian duty for a majority of my Christian life.  Maybe it was the side effect of growing up in a rural community where issues such as mental health, addiction, poverty and homelessness were just things we read or heard about but didn’t actually witness it.  Or maybe it was my own ignorance and naivety that scripture and prayer can heal and fix all of the worlds problems.  Again, I am not saying that prayer and the reading of scripture are bad or useless things.  What I am saying is that maybe, just maybe, the concept of Christian duty needs to change.  Maybe it is more about living with the messiness of life alongside someone as they trudge through it.  Maybe instead of saying well meaning and well intentioned words, a form of the custom of Shiva is practiced for those who are suffering.  To offer support, love and encouragement by just being present without actually saying anything.  But that’s uncomfortable and completely counterintuitive to our culture.  There is this fear of not having all the answers and a sense of helplessness that maybe there are things that are out of our control.

Sadly, I have an opportunity to practice what I preach. My family has lost someone close to us who struggled with depression. I an trying to practice Shiva as best as I can and it is not easy. Everything in me is screaming and trying to get me to “fix it”. But I can’t. I need to walk with my family through this dark place. I need to offer support, encouragement and love. I need to show up.

That’s it.

That’s the first step.

Just showing up.

Maybe the world would be a better place if Christians were more concerned with showing up and serving in love rather than trying to fix all of the world’s problems from a distance. I think this is what Jesus called us to do and it starts in our own families and communities.

So I challenge you…how are you going to “show up” today?

More questions than answers.

Tags

Canada, Christianity

So over the last several days Canadians have witnessed three soldiers being attacked, two fatally, here at home. I really don’t know what to think or how to respond to these tragedies. As a Christian, who happens to live in Canada, what should my response be? A part of me wants to fight and protect the country that I love. To ensure that my son grows up in a place where he does not have to be afraid because of what he believes, who he loves or what his political convictions may be. On the other hand, I’m torn when I begin to think of the words of Jesus. Was he serious about this whole “turn the other cheek” thing? I don’t have any answers. The point of this blog is to not tell you what to do or to puff myself up declaring that I have it all figured out. Rather its purpose is to share with you the tension that I’m facing when trying to determine whose allegiance I am a part of. Are the two compatible? Again, I don’t know.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German theologian who stood toe-to-toe with not only Nazis but Nazism as a whole. He was quoted as saying,

“Things do exist that are worth standing up for without compromise. To me it seems that peace and social justice are such things. As is Christ himself.”

This is a man who lived and breathed, ‘Loving his enemy.’ Yet ultimately, he was found guilty for his role in a plot to assassinate Hitler and was executed. I am not condoning or judging the choices and actions that Bonhoeffer made. What I am saying is that if one of the most influential Christians of the last century decided that in the face of evil, one man’s death would be justifiable…what the heck am I supposed to do?

Please feel free to comment and let me know what y’all think.

Cheers and blessings.

Ryan

Filtering out the Noise.

Tags

Anxiety, Christianity, Depression, Mental Health

I didn’t get a chance to write last week which is kind of a bummer.  Writing is something incredibly therapeutic for me.  The idea of being able to lay bare your soul and mind with all the world to see is…well…scary.  But freeing in the same sense.  Sharing my hidden vulnerabilities and bringing them to light is extremely powerful and I know that if I don’t write I probably won’t for a long time.  Some may call it laziness but I prefer to call it fear.  The longer I delay the process of putting the thoughts that are racing around in my head onto (virtual) paper, the more these thoughts begin to normalize themselves into my consciousness, thus becoming MY new reality.  Which is scary to think about.  Even though I know that some of the things in my head are untrue and harmful, they are still a part of MY reality and this is the frame of reference I write from.  MY reality.  This is the way that I see the world and the way in which the filters in my head project things to me.  Even if they are not true, in the moment, they are true to me.  Which is the conundrum of depression.  It is relentless and a crafty tool the devil uses to make me believe that lies are true.

I’ve been wrestling a lot recently with how to bring together my battles with depression and my faith as a Christian.  At times I try to separate them, sometimes unknowingly, as if the mind and spirit are segregated from each other.  I’ll think that I’ll take medication, go to a counsellor and exercise and my depression will go away.  However, I have not begun to deal with my spirit.  On the other hand, I sometimes try to get more involved with church, pray more and read my bible more and this will take my depression away.  But it doesn’t and then the feelings of guilt and shame come cascading over me like a waterfall and I end up feeling more overwhelmed, more frustrated, more resentful, more afraid and ultimately more depressed.  Yet when I am able to take a more holistic approach, where I intertwine the healing process with both my mind and spirit, good things can happen.  From MY experience medication can be good, when it is accompanied by prayer.  Counselling can be good, when it is accompanied by worship.  Exercise can be good, when accompanied by scripture.  I think one of the greatest lies that the devil ever told me is that my physical self is separate from my spiritual self.  When I began to believe this and act on this thought pattern, that’s when I start to get into trouble and begin the descent down the rabbit hole.

Last Sunday, my pastor taught from Philippians 4.  In that passage is one of the most oft quoted pieces of scripture that other Christians share with me when I tell them that I am struggling with depression and anxiety.

Philippians 4:6-7  ⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I don’t often ask these people for help but they sure like to offer it.  Maybe it’s because they feel awkward and don’t know what to say?  Maybe that passage has helped get them through some of their own personal struggles?  Or maybe they just think that by quoting me this scripture they have fulfilled their Christian duty?  Who knows, there are countless possible scenarios.  What I do know, from MY experience, is that I am still waiting on …the peace of God, which transcends all understanding…  My mind is anything but peaceful.  As much as I have a difficult time relating to this letter from Paul, I am able to relate to his second letter to the Corinthians where he writes, “Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.”  That hits home.  The constant battle in my mind where I am constantly feeling tormented.  I really don’t know how Paul was able to find peace but it gives me hope.  Someday, I may be able to find it.  Until that day I will just have to keep pressing forward.  Who knows, today may be that day.

World Mental Health Day…who cares?

Tags

ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, Depression, Stigma, World Mental Health Day

So today is World Mental Health Day. What exactly does that mean? I guess it’s suppose to “raise awareness” that mental health issues exist. Perhaps it is supposed to help eliminate the stigma that surrounds mental health? I don’t know. My question is, well, does it? This I can’t really answer and as far as I know there is not going to be an exhaustive or analytical survey used to figure out if these aims were achieved. The purpose of this blog is to not bash or bad-mouth people attempting to raise awareness of mental health issues or to help eliminate stigma but rather to ask, is there a better way to achieve these goals?

Last month my social media feeds were so full of videos about the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge that I stopped paying attention.  Soon there were articles and opinion pieces about whether or not this was the best or most affective way of raising support or awareness for ALS.  Eventually I just tuned it all out.  I don’t know if I am the only person who stopped listening but as I reflect on it, something comes to mind.  ALS is a terrible illness that mankind should be striving to eliminate.  However, I don’t know of anyone personally who has suffered with it so it is difficult for me to completely relate or to have that emotional attachment to this issue. Ask me to support issues and causes around cancer, Alzheimer’s, MS, addiction and mental health and you bet I am on board because I have a personal connection to all of these illnesses and diseases.  There is something intrinsically powerful about looking yourself or a loved one in the eye and walking with them as they suffer and struggle.  It is something different to try to motivate and encourage others to get excited about something that from their frame of reference they simply just can’t.

Basically, I guess what I am trying to say, is that if you really didn’t care about mental health issues before today, knowing that it is Mental Health Day probably won’t change your mind.  However, if you are someone who struggles with mental health issues then this day can be an amazing platform for you to step out of the shadows and know that you are not alone.  Share your stories.  Tell a friend, a colleague, a family member who may not know about the giants that you are fighting on a daily basis.  This is how stigma can end.  This is how people who don’t really care about mental health issues will be able to make a personal connection.  If one person who suffers with mental health issues is able to stand up and share their story, then to me, this day will have been a success.

Remember, you are sick, not weak.

Be Blessed,

Ryan

Confessions of a Depressed Mind

Tags

Christianity, Depression, Mental Health

I don’t really know where to begin so I guess I will start off by saying, “I struggle with depression.”  Some of you reading this may know this already but many of you don’t, at least not to the extent to which this illness has plagued my entire adult life.  I had my first “episode” with depression when I was 19.  I use the word “episode” because depression is a cyclical illness.  Meaning, it doesn’t just go away but it may rear its ugly head every so often.  Sometimes it will come and hang out for a few weeks and sometimes for a few months.  Sometimes it doesn’t even visit for years and you go on living, almost forgetting, that you have this “companion.”  So I was 19 and attending a local bible college when my first episode occurred.  I felt so alone, confused and well, depressed.  I didn’t know who to turn to for support and when I did I was met with usually 3 responses or variations there of:

1) Pray more.

2) Confess your sin. (Obviously I had sin in my life that was causing this affliction…???)

3) Don’t take medication because if I do I don’t have faith or believe that God will heal me.

So I bet that the people giving me these responses had very noble and good intentions.  However, these responses made me feel more alone, more confused and definitely more depressed.

So what is a 19 year old kid supposed to do in these situations?  Well, this kid dropped out and moved back home.  Took a job in the manufacturing sector.  Went on medication.  And happily went on my way putting this bad experience behind me.  Or so I thought.  About 4 years later, my good old “friend” decided to come by for a visit and this time, he stuck around for a while.  It really sucked.  I wasn’t eating, sleeping, working, going to church, playing sports, etc.  I again quit my job and moved back home because I really didn’t know what else to do.  I couldn’t take care of myself and my parents were worried that I may do something drastic.  They wanted to make sure that I was safe and for that I am grateful.  Looking back at that period of my life, as much as that visit from my “friend” sucked, it pushed me into a direction that I don’t know I would have taken otherwise.  During this “episode” I decided to change careers and start working with youth.  I waited until I was a little more stable and sent off some resumes.  Eventually I got an interview and have been working with youth ever since.  This “episode” also got me to start to take my faith more seriously.  I started doing missions work and being more involved with my church.  Life was great.  Skip forward a few years and I meet a girl at a bible study.  We date, get engaged, buy a house, get married…life was awesome and nothing could go wrong.  Or so I thought.

This past December I started to notice that I was getting really anxious being out in public.  I figured it was just the crowds of people, especially at the malls, that were making me feel this way.  But as the more time went on the more difficult it became to do anything.  I couldn’t get out of bed.  I wasn’t sleeping or eating and could not find any joy in anything.  I was able to plug along for awhile until one day in January where I sat down with one of my bosses and told them, “I really don’t know how much longer I can keep this together.”  About a week later I went on sick leave.  Now if you thought talking to the people closest to you about depression was difficult, try talking to an insurance company.  That’s another rant for another day.  Anyways, this “episode” was interesting because my wife and I were expecting our first child at the time.  I was so excited to be a dad and then overnight, I just didn’t care anymore.  Eventually I started counseling and was also assessed by a psychiatrist.  I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and a generalized anxiety disorder.  After almost two months I started going back to work but on a reduced schedule.  Work was really fantastic with accommodating to my needs.  Then on May 28, our son Oliver was born and I was able to be happy and joyful.  My “friend” left me alone that day and I was able to celebrate with my family.  After Oliver was born, I took two months off for parental leave.  This time was awesome and invaluable.  I recommend taking the time off, if you can, to anyone with a new child.

I went back to work at the end of July and I was really anxious and nervous about going back.  Then, on August 11th, I hear that Robin Williams died by suicide.  I was really shocked and saddened.  It brought me back, very quickly, to the place I was just a few months earlier, and how easily it could have been me.  I began to wonder if other people, especially people in a Christian community, thought and felt the same way as I did.  Did they know that there are others out there who believe in God but also have this “companion”?  Why doesn’t the church really discuss mental health issues, like depression, when there could be vast amounts of Christians hurting?  So one night at work, I was sitting in a group (that prefers to remain anonymous) and it hit me.  “Why don’t I start a group at my church to help support people who are struggling with depression?”  So that’s what I did. I spoke to one of my pastors and recruited a friend of mine who has been open with me about their struggle with depression.  We sat down one night and planned this group.  We are having our first meeting later this month.  There isn’t really a goal or objective to this group, other than to let other people know that they are not alone.  I think that’s what Jesus would want us to do.  Not try and fix everyone’s problems but rather stand with them through the storms and chaos of life.

Thanks for reading this.  Just so you are aware, this is an extremely brief synopsis of my struggles with depression.  If you want to chat more about it write me back.  I am going to post two videos that I have found really helpful and encouraging.  Be blessed my friends.  You are not alone.

Ryan