I think there is a fine line between "airing dirty laundry" or "casting pearls" and the good and learning that can come from being open. I can't control what you or anyone else will think when you read my thoughts, but I can focus on sharing with you the things I learn in hopes it will somehow be valuable to you someday. The things I've written and the lessons I've learned from you kids can also help me, as I discovered today. I was reading "Invisible Hands" and thinking about all the help I've received. I read "Dual Beings" and was reminded of where I was, compared with where I am. I read "Leave yourself at the door" and was reminded of how much it has helped me to have people be open, which encourages me to do the same. I read "I will be Brave" and was infused with the courage needed to write this post.
So thanks, me, for the great advice! :-)
Earlier this year, or maybe last year sometime
Let me start this off by telling you there is no one I know more loyal, forgiving, and faithful than your Mom. She has endured a lot, and never stopped loving me. Take good care of her, or I will haunt you as a dragon in your dreams (If you don't know that reference, ask your Mom or I, or Rob and Reb). Anyway, one day I read a post on depression from a blog on your Mom's computer that sounded a little too familiar to me. Shortly thereafter I talked to your Mom about the articles she'd been reading on Depression. From the confused look I could tell she had no idea what I was talking about, but she had thought of me back when she read that post and wondered if maybe I did have some sort of Depression or something. It seemed possible, but the feelings and challenges didn't always fit with what I understood about Depression. The feelings I had weren't that different than in the post but some were dead ringers. So I worked even harder to try to "break through", like she did.
"I can do hard things" I reminded myself. Fail. "I just have to push myself and I can do it". Fail again. "I just need to man up and be the man I know I'm capable of being". Fail and wonder, "why do I keep failing?". "Stop whining about your perfect life, loving wife, incredible kids, good job, nice house, and functional paid for cars and go be who you know you need to be!" Fail, and realize how horrible I am for failing for no good reason. That was terrible. I was depressed, and didn't even have a good reason, and I knew it. Finding new tools, or coming up with a new meaningful phrase or scripture to focus on was momentarily motivating, but in actuality, like the post says, "...trying to use willpower to overcome the apathetic sort of sadness that accompanies depression is like a person with no arms trying to punch themselves until their hands grow back. A fundamental component of the plan is missing and it isn't going to work."
Two and a half months ago
In spite of my efforts I kept "failing". I felt broken. I would tell myself that I just wasn't doing everything in my power. I must just be missing this piece, or that piece, or forgetting that helpful tool, and I just needed to combine everything and THEN i'd be okay. The conflict from the "Dual Beings" nature was too much for me because I eventually realized I couldn't wait for the perfect storm of rightness that would propel me to being good because at any hiccup I'd fall from the pedestal again. I felt like I was becoming weaker and weaker ad worse and worse and giving in to being a bad husband and father with more frequency even though I was trying harder than ever to be the Dad and Husband I've always tried to be. I just felt like I was spinning my wheels.
I have notebooks filled with motivational tools and moments of inspiration and lessons, that all have meaning to me. I have countless hours of discussion and brainstorming with your Mom analyzing childhood, communication, parenthood, relationships, and pretty much everything else. I have a huge mirror in the bathroom with various reminders written on it. I have the faces of a lovely wife and three beautiful kids whom I love so dearly. I have a Willow Tree figurine I gave your Mom with a promise that I would never give up. But I still wasn't who I needed to be and knew I could be. Not even close. I even started questioning if I was getting any better. I'd get frustrated for no good reason. I'd beat myself up for not being who I knew I could be. So I called a therapist and set up an appointment because I didn't know what else to try, and I refused to give up even if I had to do something uncomfortable like, ask for professional help (gasp).
About three weeks ago
For 8 weeks your Mom and I got up early and went to see my therapist. Frankly, it was quite easy because I wasn't trying to hide anything, and I wanted help. Everything he wanted to know was at the forefront of our minds already. Everything he wanted to discuss was something we had already discussed, so we progressed rapidly. He was good at listening and adding pointers or tools or angles that were new to us and we were anxious to try anything he wanted us to try. They all worked...sometimes. Just like everything else. One day when I was talking about it being hard for me to feel God's love, the therapist told me he was still convinced I suffered from Depression, but he didn't think I could overcome it no matter how hard i tried without medication. It deflated me. I didn't want to rely on medication, even if I'd probably only need it for 6-12 months. He said he understood my position because he, too, was an independent, hard worker who didn't like to make excuses and thought he could do anything if he just tried hard enough. He said that he had reached a point in his life where he too had to finally admit to himself that trying harder wasn't the answer. He'd tried all the tools, and he knew all the tools. He'd tried forcing himself to be right. He said that he started taking a medication and then started noticing that his efforts started to "stick", and he encouraged me to see my doctor and get a prescription. I wasn't surprised, but I had still held on to the hope that with the help of the therapist I could brute force myself to be better. I worried about taking medication to "alter my brain" even though it was tauted as being analogous to vitamins.
About two weeks ago
When I made the decision to see a therapist I had already made the decision in my mind that if I needed to take medication that I would if it is what helped. It wasn't easy or fun, but I went to the doctor and shared my situation. He agreed with the diagnosis and gave me a prescription for Prozac.
Last Sunday
I started taking half doses as recommended and after a few days of that moved to full doses. I was worried that I might sub consciously try to "make the medicine work" as though it was a placebo, which would indicate that I had the power within all along. I was also worried that i might subconsciously "keep the medicine from working". I worried it wouldn't work and I'd have to try something else. I worried that medicine wasn't even enough to help me.
Last Friday
I sat down on my bed at the end of the day to discuss the day with your Mom. As I started talking about how i was feeling I paused, and looked back over the day in my mind. Then I looked back over the past week. Then, while Mom looked at me quizically, I compared that day and week with every similar day and week I could think of in the past few years. It wasn't until that very moment that I realized I didn't feel any different. I wasn't changed. The world wasn't rose tinted. I was doing the same things, and so was everyone around me. BUT, it was then that I also realized that at that moment I felt like I would after a day where things had gone pretty well. Not after a day and week where I was sick and hadn't done much, and had struggled. I thought about how something might get to me, and I'd discuss it with your Mom, but even when things were resolved, or I understood the situation, the feeling would often stay. But at that moment, I realized that several times already that week, the feeling didn't stick. I could resolve it and move on. I was scared that this might be a fluke, but I was also so excited that maybe the medication was actually helping...already! I felt like my work was paying off. I felt like my legs were back under me and if I tried, I'd be able to see a difference. But the best thing was, that I wasn't doing anything special, and I also still felt like me. It was a wonderful realization and a moment I hope not to forget.
Last Saturday
I sat down to watch conference and in the afternoon session, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland got up to speak. Is it okay to have a favorite apostle? I hope so, because I'd say that he and Elder Oaks are my favorites. I have always seemed to relate really well to their stories and the way they speak. It is no nonsense, bold, but loving and compassionate. The kind of compassion that comes from experience. I've known for a while now that Elder Oaks was raised by a single Mom from the age of 8 and was the oldest child. When I discovered that I knew why I could relate to him so well, but I didn't know what made me relate to Elder Holland until Saturday.
He started his talk about mental illnesses and their reality. Then he got more specific and spoke about Depression. He listed common groups affected by depression. His last group...Young Fathers. As soon as he said those words I felt so validated. Felt so understood. Felt so unashamed. Then Elder Holland revealed that he too suffered from Depression as a young father.
Maybe I wasn't broken. Maybe I wasn't just weak. Maybe this Depression thing is real. I don't have any recollection of any type of talk like this before now, but I felt like the timing and the talk were for me. I felt like I wasn't banging my head against a wall anymore. I felt so much gratitude to Elder Holland for his courage and for his willingness to share that illness that I had always perceived as a "weakness".
Today
I'm not foolish enough to think I don't have a lot of work still ahead of me. I have a long road ahead. But I am confident I can do it. I feel like when I move my legs...I walk. Not like before, when I just felt like I was doing better until my next meltdown. No, this is different than it has ever felt. Before, I could only feel adequate if I did everything like I knew I should. Now I can already be accepting of the inevitable hiccups ahead, knowing it is all part of the process of becoming who I want to be. Your Mom keeps pointing out things I am doing differently, or times I respond differently. She asks me if I am doing it consciously, and I'm not. I just don't have that voice telling me how inadequate I am, or telling me I should feel guilty.
This morning on the way to work, I talked with Uncle Shane about Depression, and now I'm talking with you guys about it. It isn't something to be ashamed of, and I'm not going to be ashamed of it. I have more courage because of others who weren't afraid to talk about it, and maybe if I talk about it I can help others who are spinning their wheels, or who haven't received that sense of validation yet and just need to know they aren't alone.
And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them. Ether 12:27
I've discovered that it is okay not to be perfect. It is okay to struggle, and need help and grace and the atonement. Strive for Greatness, Kiddos, and do your best, but enjoy your journey. That includes your lifelong journey towards perfection, no matter what hurdles life puts in your path. Don't worry about your position as much as you worry about your direction. Have faith in Christ and trust his grace.
Love,
Daddydoo
