Monday, February 05, 2018

Afterschool Special Week: It Makes Me Anxious

It's Very Serious Subject Week here at G:TB, not necessarily by design. After this post, as I've told others, I'm going to take a trip to the Isle of Dipshittery, where I'll reside peacefully for the next several months. But I hope this one resonates for someone who might need it.

I've been writing this post for almost four years, and I've had a hard time deciding whether I even wanted to publish it. It's personal, and it's scary, and it makes me feel vulnerable as hell. But in light of recent events in my little town, and of my admonishment to our community to reach out when we see people in pain, I feel a bit obligated.

The Atlantic's Scott Stossel wrote a cover story in the magazine's January 2014 issue about anxiety. Irrational, crippling, stressful, anxiety. One of the most common of all mental illnesses.

I've been there.



The first 39 years of my life were blissfully anxiety-free. Nerves, sure. Ask Whitney about how I couldn't eat before I gave the toast at his rehearsal dinner, pushing my food around my plate for 20 minutes or so. (Nailed the toast, though.) And I worried about normal stuff - bills, and my kids, and the Red Sox. But debilitating, heart-pounding, depths of despair anxiety wasn't in my emotional vocabulary.

Then, in August 2010, I found myself at a conference I didn't want to attend, with a group of people I didn't care to be around. Alone in a Tampa hotel, I had the longest night of my life. My heart raced uncontrollably. I was drenched in sweat. I couldn't shake the notion that I was going to die. And I certainly couldn't sleep.

I made an excuse and took an early flight home, hoping that familiar scenery and the proximity of the people I loved would help. Not really.

The next month is a dulled blur. I took sleeping pills and melatonin to try to get some uninterrupted slumber, but they rarely worked. I fell asleep at the wheel driving to work more than once. Which was better than my commute home, which I spent every day focused on worst-case scenarios, mostly economic, like losing my job, falling into financial ruin, driving my wife and kids away.

I thought about what it would be like for them if I were gone, me with my $1.0m+ in various life insurance policies. To be clear, I never contemplated suicide - just the results. It is exceedingly easy for me to see how people in a similar place could take that next step. I saw no way out, no obvious remedy.

A few months later, just after Thanksgiving, after a two-year battle against cancer and a rapid decline, my father passed away. I felt it was my place as the man of the family now to be strong for my Mom and my sister. I greeted well-wishers and accepted their condolences, and I wrote and delivered a eulogy, and I talked to my kids about their Papa.

One thing I never did was spend time with my own grief. I was too much of a mess.

Had you seen me at that time, you likely wouldn't have known anything was wrong. I managed to handle my professional affairs, though Lord knows I can't tell you how. Perusing my G:TB content over the first few months of 2011 yields nary a clue. That was the era of #3bids4CAA, and our dustup with Mid-Majority's Kyle Whelliston.  (In a bit of supreme irony, I later learned that Whelliston himself suffered from depression, so at least a few of the things I said about him cause me some measure of regret.) I withdrew a bit from my friends, but after a couple of beers I could generally find an equilibrium, or at least moderate the racing thoughts. Depressive anxiety is a motherfucker, silent and invisible.

My wife might tell you otherwise. At home, according to her, I was a zombie. I'd come home and retreat into myself, doing the bare minimum necessary to be a parent and husband, and often even less than that.

I confided in a few people, and when I did, it helped. Unburdening myself, opening up, leaning on others reminded me that I wasn't alone, at least for a brief period. It was that realization that put me on the path to recovery. If you take nothing else away from this, take this: the concern and care of others matters, and is a huge bulwark against the loneliness and helplessness that blanket the thoughts of people in the throes of depression and mental illness like a low-lying and persistent fog.

Ultimately, three things made the difference for me: therapy, medication, and time. My wife has a background in counseling, and she helped me understand that talking to a professional was necessary, that being proactive in trying to help myself was in many ways the opposite of weak. My doctor prescribed an anti-anxiety med, which settled me at a time when I was all over the place, even as it dulled my emotional range. And as a few months passed, the combination of those first two supporting scaffolds enabled me to slowly regain my equilibrium. Those, and the continued, never-judging love and support my wife provided.

I'm lucky. Many people don't emerge from bouts of depression and anxiety, or at least don't do so over a period of months. The Anxiety and Depression Association of America estimates that 40 million Americans experience some form of anxiety disorder each year, but fewer than 40% of them receive treatment. The National Institute of Mental Health reports that 16 million Americans experienced a major depressive episode in 2016, 6.7% of the adult population. The statistics are worse in many other countries. Practically speaking, one out of every 10 people you see every day is dealing with some kind of anxiety or depression disorder.

It's been nearly seven years since I last displayed any anxiety-related symptoms. Now, when I worry about money, or the future, it lasts a few minutes, and there's a whole set of rational arguments I can make to change the subject in my mind. Like anyone, I have good days and bad days, positive moods and shitty, grumpy ones (that hasn't changed much in 47 years), but the reasons are closely tied to the actual events of the day, not to some imbalance in my brain chemistry. As I said earlier, I'm lucky.

I consider myself fortunate in another way, too. I'm a far more compassionate person as it relates to the suffering of others, particularly those dealing with mental illness. I'm a private person. I don't like to talk about myself. But in the past six-plus years, I've found myself more than once telling someone about my experience because I thought it would help them feel less alone in theirs. I'm an advocate for therapy, and for admitting that sometimes other people have answers we don't. I have no idea whether I've helped, but staying silent seems less of an option now.

As Patton Oswalt has famously said in his recent standup special, "It's chaos. Be kind." I've adopted that as a bit of a mantra for myself. It applies in so many ways in our modern world. I've learned that there is no 'normal', and we're all fucked up in our own, unique ways. There is no shame in seeking help, in admitting that you don't know everything. And if you don't need help at some point, you're blessed beyond your own understanding.

And hopefully, that's...one to grow on.

32 comments:

Danimal said...

Rob - I applaud you for sharing this. Big balls in those pants of yours and you and we are better off for it. We just never know who is dealing with something bigger than we can comprehend. Before reading this, I would be surprised if you told me anyone I know well is struggling. It's possible though isn't it, which is my takeaway here.

Danimal said...

I should add, fwiw...8 days ago I (and my wife to a lesser extent) began a ketogenic diet. Broad brush - no sugar/grains. All that know me well know me as a moody MF. Since a couple of days in my temperament has changed in the sense that f I just have one versus a different one each day (and it's the good one). More patience, greater attention span, and my energy level is steady eddie...it doesn't fluctuate at all during the day. Certainly not a panacea for those with anxiety and depression, but another tool in the kit that could make a difference.

Whitney said...

Wow. I can't call anyone on the planet a better or closer friend to me than Rob is, and I was blind to all of this. I'll let myself off the hook a little for being an inattentive friend because I think that's the point; the emotionally intelligent among us can hide depression in plain sight.

I'm just really glad you're talking about this in hindsight. I'm impressed with your level of candor. That doesn't always come easily.

And Big Balls in Little Pants should be the title of Rob's autobiography.

Lecky said...

Thank you for sharing Rob, I know I'm not a commenter on G:TB but I am grateful for the times we've spent together over the years, and I reflect often on some of our past escapades, usually when I need a private chuckle. Please hit me up on your next trip to Pittsburgh, I will extract you from your in-laws for a proper Iron City brew.

TR said...

I had a bad year of anxiety attacks in '04. Future wife's mom had a 6-month slow spiral from terminal cancer at the same time my dad entered terminal cancer. They passed two months apart, with my dad passing the evening of Game 7 of Sox-Yanks, the night that Boston won the series after falling behind 3-0. Lots of big boy stress. I would get them often when I entered hot, congested places from the outside in winter: subways, tight NYC restaurants, my local bagel spot in Brooklyn, etc. Being hung over made things worse. It got to the point where I would tell my gf and folks we were sometimes with that they were happening. I would ride it out and hope I wouldn't get too sweaty.

It's hard to admit something is wrong and decide you're going to fix it. Kudos for your candor.

zman said...

If you ever have a friend who seems to be purposely grinding his future into dust by being in a perpetually intoxicated state and getting lousy grades, ask him "What's going on?" instead of "Why are you such a bitter tool?" Just sayin. Thanks rob (and TR) for talking about stuff that's really hard to talk about.

In other news, I found the BEST AIRBNB EVER!

https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/18491438?location=Manasquan%2C%20NJ%2C%20United%20States&adults=2&children=2&check_in=2018-07-09&check_out=2018-07-13&s=H4sZBlNE

TR said...

On the keto front, I am now two weeks into it. I was sober all year (until last night). The keto diet is bizarre. You eat a healthy amount of food, but don't get cravings b/c there's no blood sugar boom/bust.

I fell down the "no sugar" rabbit hole last month, finally understanding the role of sugar. Folks are concerned about Trump, but the bigger concern for this country should be the diabetes EPIDEMIC that we're having. There are real analogies b/w Big Food and Big Tobacco, in terms of what they know and how they're influencing the FDA to hide the truth. 9% of Americans have diabetes today, and it is estimated 1 in 3 will have it by 2040. Almost none of them are Inuits in Alaska that survive on blubber. The mainstream nutrition information is almost all garbage.

Watch the Fed Up doc on Netflix and get woke. I'll effort up a post about it at some point.

zman said...

I had whale bacon once. I assume it had some blubber on it. It was not tasty.

Dave said...

wow-- beautifully written post. and i guess i'm not very perceptive because you pulled the wool over my eyes, which is the point i guess. i had a month or two of anxiety right before i started student teaching, around the time of obft uno. my life was unsettled and confusing . . . it was really weird and scary but then it went away once i got into a routine.

rob said...

i’m definitely down for some iron city beer-drinking, lecky.

appreciate the response, my friends.

Marls said...

Important words Rob. I had a panic attack Christmas Day two years ago. All I can remember was thinking how much easier it would be for my family if I want there anymore.

The mind is a fickle mistress. Thanks for sharing and reminding us that we are not alone.

Donna said...

Bravo, Rob. For your honesty and grit!
In my line of work, we are often allowed into people's homes and lives in ways others are not...one of the biggest take-aways through the years is EVERYONE has stuff. Everyone. And reaching out for support/help is never, never weakness. Because we're all broken. It's actually courageous and strong. And sharing your story might just help someone else, so bravo!

Shlara said...

Mazel to Rob for sharing.
And ditto to Donna on the point that everyone has stuff.
We all learn at a young age to be kind to each other--and sometimes we forget to be kind to ourselves too.
So, please take care of yourselves Gheorghies

Danimal said...

Hello Gheorghies. Good bye John Mahoney.

Tr....watched FedUp which initiated the diet.

Marls said...

Hola dan

Whitney said...

Honest question here… I love you guys and take this shit very fucking seriously. But am I allowed to add a tiny bit of levity here and suggest that perhaps Marls watched too much It’s a Wonderful Life that year? Poor form?

rob said...

we’ll allow it. the statute of limitations on serious topics has passed. let your dipshit flag fly. and post something stupid.

Marls said...

Not too soon at all and not all that far off from the truth. :)

I’ll tell you the whole story over beers because I don’t have the balls to tell it here like Rob. That said, it’s really easy to get to a dark place like George Bailey. Like Rob, I’m thankful for an awesome wife for the support.

TR said...

One of my odder sports forays will occur tonight when I head to the KU-TCU game at Allen Fieldhouse w/ clients. Hit me up if you want an Azubuike jersey. Should be a cool vibe there.

Kansas in February. Good times.

rob said...

make sure you’re in your seat for the ‘rock, chalk, jayhawk’. and film that shit. and then post it.

Whitney said...

Of note in the Housemartins video in this post:

1. The bassist is Norman Cook. You may have heard of his later nom de plume, Fatboy Slim.

2. Sick sweater vest on lead singer Paul Heaton. Rob could rock that look.

TR said...

You could at least say please, Mr. Bossy.

Mark said...

I’m very jealous of TR’s trip to Allen Fieldhouse.

zman said...

I thought it was Little Miss Bossy? That's the one with the bossy boots, right?

Danimal said...

I informed Rob last year that Paul Heaton has a nephew that works for us. Missed seeing him and one of his former band mates perform one evening when there last year. Apparently he has maintained a pretty good following.

Marls said...

Mike Bossy?

zman said...

Who's the Bossy starring Tony Danzy?

Shlara said...

guys--I saw Pat Benatar + her husband/collaborator perform at the Birchmere last night (small venue for the non-DC people)
it was like being at a taping of VH1 Storytellers
really cool

and I too am jealous of TR's night at The Phog--I want to experience the Rock Chalk cheer in person

rob said...

it's kinda for the dc people, too.

zman said...

Does anyone else think it's slightly obnoxious that Elon Musk is littering outer space with abandoned cars?

Marls said...

I’m leaving San Fran on the Johnny Grant flight right now. If I was staying I would drive over to Elon’s house and relay your complaint Zman.

Marls said...

Saw Pat Benitar and Neil Giraldo at summerfest in mill-e-wah-que (meaning the good land) several years ago. They put on a really good show.

Neil Giraldo played the guitar for Rick Springfield’s Jessie’s Girl.