May begins Mental Health Awareness month. I’d ask that everyone do a self evaluation this month as well as look out for those around you that are, or might be struggling. There are so many stresses in this world today, you never know when someone will reach their breaking point. There are many that suffer in silence and are just trying to get by one day at a time. This is part of my story.

I’d always appeared to be the quiet one, the shy guy that many thought had everything together. No one knew the ghosts that haunted me for so many years of my life. The demons that were following me at every turn. There were so many times that I just wanted to give up. To give into the darkness and be free of pain, fear and feeling. While there are many reasons that people struggle with mental illness, I’ve been able to pin point exactly what events and person assisted in breaking me. There are times when I see someone on the street that might be talking to themselves, or staring off into the abyss and I wonder what was the defining moment in their life that brought them to this? Was it a singular moment in time, or was it more of a slow bleed? Was there abuse of some kind, or perhaps getting lost in a haze of drug use? These are all things that I think of because I walked in that darkness. I was searching for something, for someone to find me. Hoping that I’d be saved, perhaps from myself.

I’d reached a point that so many nightmares had chewed at my sleep, so much of my happiness was being drained, that I just felt anger. I was angry at the world and myself. I walked with a daring look on my face waiting for the moment for someone to say or do the wrong thing so that I could unleash my rage. A time bomb waiting to explode. While I felt that all of this was in some fashion normal. It’s what I knew growing up. Yet it didn’t feel right. Years of hiding these feeling and searching. If it hadn’t been for the need to find a counselor for my daughter, I’m not sure that I would’ve been able to find my way out of this. Taking her to a counselor to address issues that she was having exposed me and my damage to a professional that was able to spot it. Her kind and gentle approach was something I wasn’t used to. My initial response was to be skeptical. What did she want from me? Why did she think she could help me?

Once I’d agreed to begin my journey with her, I still kept so much hidden away. It took time for me to let down the walls that I’d spent a lifetime building up to protect myself from the world and everything in it. With each session I became more at ease around her, and as time went on I began to give full disclosure to the level of depravity that I’d fallen to in my life. I showed her my brokenness only to find her reach out and tell me that she would guide me through this, that I had value, that I was worth saving. I can’t tell you how many times I cried in front of Amy, I’m certain I’ve gone through many tissues in her company. I had to become vulnerable, to not fear showing who and what I really am.

I still have moments that I struggle. Even now when I write I question myself. Thinking things like why are you writing all of this? You don’t even write very well, you don’t speak very well, you are not to be seen. These are true feeling that I have, right now. I sit and work on my book and read back through all of the things that I’ve typed and save in the computer and wonder, who if anyone would want to read this? What makes you think you’re special? At the same time I look over the events and feel shame for the things that I’ve seen and done. I tell you this because I think it might matter to someone. The struggle that I have is daily and I’ve learned to believe that I do matter and what I have to say is important. I write most of the time strictly for myself. It’s cleansing for me to put my feelings down like this. Am I a writer? Yes! I push past all the feelings that I’ve talked about each time, knowing that if it’s not perfect, that’s o.k. What I put on here is an extension of me, it’s baring my soul for all to see, so it does matter. I matter.

I think many that struggle with mental health issues share a common bond. We all feel as though we’re less than. We want nothing more than to be seen and heard, to be included as part of this world. I’d like to believe that we as humans can take notice of those that struggle and offer something. It doesn’t cost you anything to be kind, that’s a great start. A smile is easy and free. Asking how someone is doing and actively listening when they speak. Take a moment out of your busy day to do things like this and you could be the one that makes a difference. Donate to shelters, volunteer your time to food pantries, support these organizations with your dollars if you have them to spare. All of this can move us forward and possibly save a life.

My story is complex and ugly at times. A single person saw my struggle and turned my life around. Had I remained on my road of Silence and Secrets, I fear I would’ve given up at some point. Please, hear my words and be the reason that someone decides to keep getting up each day. Be the change in someone’s world. While May is Mental Health Awareness Month, remember that for many out there, every month is awareness, every day and minute.

I’m here if ever needed. I’ll listen to your story, and do what I can to validate your feelings. Stay strong!

Thank you for following along on my journey.

~Robert~

I took some much needed vacation recently and headed West. The California coastline is a favorite for my wife and I. The seemingly endless beauty that the state has to offer is a calling to my restless soul. I found myself sleeping better, enjoying the many sights and sounds, along with dreaming of a way to stay there forever. Reality sets in when you wander the neighborhoods and see the fliers that are curbside with homes that are on the market. Millions of dollars just for the asking price and then you have to consider the inflated costs of maintaining said properties. It’s fair to say that this particular area of the West coast offers everything, but only to the chosen few that have the means to support such beauty.

Why is it that the most beautiful places on earth are only for the wealthiest? Don’t get me wrong, I find beauty in many of the areas that I frequent in my own part of the country, and I find ways to enjoy things with little to no cost to them. Keeping things “exclusive” is a way to keep others away. Those that might drive the fanciest cars, or wear the finest jewelry. People that use coupons and think through their routes based on how to conserve gas because of the rising cost. It seems that in this country there’s a price to pay for anything. I’ve always felt this way because I learned in my prior life that “Nothing in this world is free.”

While planning this trip, I decided at the last minute to upgrade our flights to first class. This was the second time in my entire life that I went the extra mile and paid more for a ticket to fly. Why you ask? Because I wanted to see how the “others” live. I wanted to experience having just two seats side by side with easy reclining to them, rather than three jammed tightly together and my knees bruised by the end of a flight because the person in front of me decided to recline. I wanted to experience the extras that are given to those who can afford to pay for them. The extra service, food, and luxury. Having my bags fly and tagged as “priority”, with no extra costs. (although it’s included in your ticket cost) Being guided to the front of the line when entering the plane and looked upon as if royalty. While on one hand it was an amazing experience, I couldn’t help but think, “I don’t belong here.” I’m just an average human that struggles like everyone else to get through life. It’s not because I don’t work hard, nor is it because I’m lazy. Some parts of this world are just roped off to the chosen few. I’ll explain further.

We visited a cute little town in the upper part of Michigan. One of the things that my wife and I like to do is walk about and see what the town looks like. I like to explore areas that have unique architecture and take notice of old world neighborhoods. In this particular town, we wandered into an area that had a gate of sorts. It wasn’t blocking you from coming in, but it was stated clearly by signs everywhere that not everyone was welcome. There were even signs telling you to stay on sidewalks and don’t venture anywhere else. We decided to walk through the area because you could see from a distance that the homes were spectacular and unique. As we walked through the area, you could feel the prying eyes watching your every move. You knew that you were an “outsider” and not welcomed. The perfect lawns, sculptured hedges and multiple high end vehicles in the drives were setting the tone of who could be there. The area, while beautiful became ugly in my mind just because of the feel that it had. The true ugliness that it carried on it’s perfect streets. We moved on after just a short stroll through.

This is something that I’ve experienced throughout my life. A poor kid that grew up shopping at the local A&P store, mixing up powdered milk when there wasn’t enough regular milk to get by on. A kid that found his way into the underworld, guided by people that promised a better life, food to eat, power through threats, and strength through intimidation. When I tried my best to get away from this life, I found that the world was still not very welcoming. I was judged by my zip code, by the school that I went to, and the lack of the best clothing. I made it a personal fight to prove those that would hold me back that I was just as good as them, perhaps better. Nothing had ever been handed to me, I struggled for everything. I appreciated any small amount of money that I could squirrel away. I toiled over second rate vehicles time and time again so that they shined like new money. Again, I appreciated everything.

I’m not saying all of this because I hate anyone that was born into a world of privilege. It’s not their fault that they were given things that I could only dream about as a kid. What I take issue with is that as they grow, they don’t notice those that do have to struggle. They’re comfortable sitting in that first class seat and looking down at the others that have to shuffle by and squeezed together in discomfort. I find fault in people raising these children to become adults that are good with glaring at others they feel don’t belong in their neighborhood, or gating them out so that they can’t share the beauty of their town. The beauty of this world was meant to be shared, it’s not just for the chosen few. I take some comfort in knowing that while many of these families might have everything beautiful around them in a physical sense, they don’t have what the rest of us hold onto dearly. We have empathy. We see others in this world and want to share the beauty and joy that it offers. We strive to bring others up that struggle rather than walking past them in some kind of ignorant bliss.

First class might offer more room, a better meal and standing at the front of the line, but the journey was still the same. I still would’ve made it to my destination, I’m good with bringing my own snacks. I don’t mind being with my people. We are many. The kid that always felt like he belonged on the outside of the beautiful has found a way in. It was a struggle, it was a learning experience, and it was hard, but I appreciate all of it that much more. There was a time that I felt like I’d sold my soul to stay alive, yet I persevered. I’m good with using coupons and not having the best of everything. I’ve become comfortable in my own skin. While it makes me sad that there are still so many parts of the world that are held out of reach to myself and others, I don’t feel that I’m lacking. I loved my trip, my vacation, my time with my bride. I enjoyed our experiences, our sights, and our memories. When all is said and done, I think that I’m the richest one. There is no holding me back, no roping me off, I’ll find beauty wherever I may roam.

Thank you so much for following along on my journey.

~Robert~