I was feeling quite overwhelmed and under enthused a couple of nights ago and true to form, was complaining about it to my wife. Really, she ought to be sainted when this is all said and done, because she married a captain and wound up with a writer. She should have known better because neither are known to be particularly well-adjusted, happy, healthy people. But she maintains her marital vows to love, honor and cherish for as long as we both shall live, much like a sailor from the days of old, who bore his duty to his crew and ship.
But I guess that's what marriage really should be, a tour of duty to one other soul to whom you pledge mind and body for the balance of your natural life. But her last three years with me, would make the most loyal sailor appeal to the captain for a release of service I think. She should at least be given a meritorious commendation from the Admiral while she still stands, if not outright canonization when we wander down to Fiddler's Green. But the best I can offer is my words of admiration and beg the eyes of the reader in thanks for her compassion and understanding.
But it seems always, when I am feeling at my lowest, my wife manages to lift my spirits to their highest and on this particular night she reminded me of a fact that I had not really recognized. In this year, 2020, I am concluding a five-year stint of growth, loss and change that ought to bring me to my knees in submission, but I manage to still have my hand on the helm.
This revelation coincided with a meme that was fertilizing the social media feed a few days ago. I usually scoff at such soft and tender fodder in the dog-eat-dog world of Facebook heroes and Twitter assassins, knowing that the same people who share a Hallmark moment in one instance, will also promote the antithesis of Jesus Christ the next. But this one particular meme, made me think that all was not lost.
It said something to the effect of "I have a 100 percent success rate of survival after failure" and while that is really dark, it does leave the least little nugget of hope doesn't it? We all have failed haven't we? And unless those failures have a catastrophic ending complete with Jack Daniels and a bottle of Oxy, the mere act of your survival should substantiate a sense of success. The fact that you woke today on the sunny side of the dirt, is a testament to your unsinkability, your fortitude and your victory over failure.
For the last five years, I have been on a self-guided pilgrimage to mental health. It started with depression and bankruptcy, forayed into a world colored by drug-abuse and alcoholism, took a hard left at every form of abuse a kid could endure and concluded with a diagnosis of ADHD. Mix in with that a move half way across the country, a couple of family deaths including that of my Mom, and culminating with a marriage to the love of my life. You might say that even a really healthy person would grab the Effexor in response to such a roller coaster of emotions. But the fact that today I am doing pretty good and have a new life and a new future and am not chin deep in a box of wine under a bridge is a pretty big victory.
My wife was much more delicate with her recounting of my last five years, but for the purposes of this article I think we will leave it at that, in all its coarseness.
But she is right, isn't she? It was hard, and five years later, I am better for having made the voyage. It took me 39 years to reach a point when I could even understand that I needed a mental health rebuild. And five years later, I think I am approaching a condition where I can relaunch this vessel and have a reasonable confidence that the next 40 years will be some of the best I have ever lived.
I am not suggesting that going through a mental health realignment should be on your to-do list this year or even in the next five. Mental Health is the 800-pound, silent gorilla in the room for a reason. But I am writing this in the hopes that it finds you in your darkest moment in this dusky time of year. Spring will be blooming soon and with it, daylight, warmth and endorphins will flow forth. When its warm, money seems easier to come by, exercise seems easier to attempt, and the thought of hiding under the bed double-fisting junk food seems that much more unnecessary. Keep the faith that you will make it to tomorrow and if you do live to sail another day, bask in the glory that you made it. Because it is not the oceans we cross that are the hardest things to endure, but the fact that we got off the dock the first place that matters most.
But I guess that's what marriage really should be, a tour of duty to one other soul to whom you pledge mind and body for the balance of your natural life. But her last three years with me, would make the most loyal sailor appeal to the captain for a release of service I think. She should at least be given a meritorious commendation from the Admiral while she still stands, if not outright canonization when we wander down to Fiddler's Green. But the best I can offer is my words of admiration and beg the eyes of the reader in thanks for her compassion and understanding.But it seems always, when I am feeling at my lowest, my wife manages to lift my spirits to their highest and on this particular night she reminded me of a fact that I had not really recognized. In this year, 2020, I am concluding a five-year stint of growth, loss and change that ought to bring me to my knees in submission, but I manage to still have my hand on the helm.
This revelation coincided with a meme that was fertilizing the social media feed a few days ago. I usually scoff at such soft and tender fodder in the dog-eat-dog world of Facebook heroes and Twitter assassins, knowing that the same people who share a Hallmark moment in one instance, will also promote the antithesis of Jesus Christ the next. But this one particular meme, made me think that all was not lost.
It said something to the effect of "I have a 100 percent success rate of survival after failure" and while that is really dark, it does leave the least little nugget of hope doesn't it? We all have failed haven't we? And unless those failures have a catastrophic ending complete with Jack Daniels and a bottle of Oxy, the mere act of your survival should substantiate a sense of success. The fact that you woke today on the sunny side of the dirt, is a testament to your unsinkability, your fortitude and your victory over failure.
For the last five years, I have been on a self-guided pilgrimage to mental health. It started with depression and bankruptcy, forayed into a world colored by drug-abuse and alcoholism, took a hard left at every form of abuse a kid could endure and concluded with a diagnosis of ADHD. Mix in with that a move half way across the country, a couple of family deaths including that of my Mom, and culminating with a marriage to the love of my life. You might say that even a really healthy person would grab the Effexor in response to such a roller coaster of emotions. But the fact that today I am doing pretty good and have a new life and a new future and am not chin deep in a box of wine under a bridge is a pretty big victory.
My wife was much more delicate with her recounting of my last five years, but for the purposes of this article I think we will leave it at that, in all its coarseness.
But she is right, isn't she? It was hard, and five years later, I am better for having made the voyage. It took me 39 years to reach a point when I could even understand that I needed a mental health rebuild. And five years later, I think I am approaching a condition where I can relaunch this vessel and have a reasonable confidence that the next 40 years will be some of the best I have ever lived.
I am not suggesting that going through a mental health realignment should be on your to-do list this year or even in the next five. Mental Health is the 800-pound, silent gorilla in the room for a reason. But I am writing this in the hopes that it finds you in your darkest moment in this dusky time of year. Spring will be blooming soon and with it, daylight, warmth and endorphins will flow forth. When its warm, money seems easier to come by, exercise seems easier to attempt, and the thought of hiding under the bed double-fisting junk food seems that much more unnecessary. Keep the faith that you will make it to tomorrow and if you do live to sail another day, bask in the glory that you made it. Because it is not the oceans we cross that are the hardest things to endure, but the fact that we got off the dock the first place that matters most.
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