When
I first wanted to share my story about my Mental Illness, it was more so to let
immediate friends and family know I am OK because many of them were wondering
where I was. Boy, was I wrong, and there is nothing wrong with being wrong. I
had to search the words, "brave", "courage", "strength",
and "inspiration". People, young and old, from far and near, family,
friends, and strangers, reaching out to me using those aforementioned words. It
is humbling. When I look in the mirror, I don't see those words. I see me, and
I am not sure what or who I am yet, but at least there is a reflection in the
mirror.
I
can't smile yet. I can't even put a fake one on anymore. Joy? No idea what that
feels like. Well, I do and I don't. When I played Junior hockey, I was lucky
enough to win a few championships. That, that was pure joy. I haven't felt that
since. Even when my son was born. I didn't "feel" the joy. For that,
I am not proud, but reflecting back, I now know why. I watched the whole birth
of him. There the whole time it happened, even getting orders barked at me from
the nurse all while telling a beautiful mother that it is almost over. I
couldn't take her pain away. I was hurting along with her.
I
speak of the birth because of the words 'brave', 'courage', 'strength', and 'inspiration'. That day I saw strength. I saw courage of a woman to not give up. The
mother of my child put on the most amazing display of strength during labour
and during the whole pregnancy. During the pregnancy, I was a terrible partner.
She was hospitalized a few times. Few means more than once. I went to the
hospital only once. She was really hurting, and I bailed hard, like a coward. She needed me, and like a chickenshit, I avoided it. I am not sure if she ever
forgave me for that. I wouldn't forgive me. When she needed me the most, I was no where to be found. What a man! How lucky was she?
Now, I have a new outlook and understanding. I reflect back to that time. I was
riddled with depression. Those nights when she needed someone, I hated myself
so much for not being there, I couldn't handle it. I remember having suicidal
thoughts while she was pregnant. You know, the thought of, I am not good enough
to be a parent yet. I rather be dead. The child and her are better off without
me. It is a terrible thought. One of the worst imaginable. Now, I know it was my illness putting that in
my head, taking control of me. That's the power of depression. It's an evil,
dark power, unfortunately
What's
the point of these paragraphs you ask? My point is to demonstrate how dark this
illness can make someone. What kind of person would not help someone,
especially their girlfriend when in need? When she is suffering, and needed me,
where was her partner? Well, I have an answer for that, he was hiding like a
coward. He was hiding from you, the unborn child, and himself. A mentally ill
person. I remember loosely using the term 'mental patient'. I didn't say it a
lot, very rarely actually, but I bet if we all think back, we have used it once
before. I know I have. I was/am a mental patient and guess what? I am proud of
it!
Yours Truly,
T.J. Smith
