Saying Farewell To A Good Time

Two days ago, it was a simple walk to the library.  The day was warm, but not too hot.  There was a gentile breeze flowing through the air that made it absolutely perfect outside.  Hand in hand, my wife and I headed out the door only to discover that the library was closed on Mondays.  A waste of a trip, it would seem.

Not so.  There is a lovely park in Haliburton, right beside the library.  It was the middle of the work day, so not many people were around.  That's great news for an agoraphobe like myself.  The main thing I wanted to do was head back home, but time with my wife on a walk is a good thing, so I decided to push myself and take the seemingly harmless stroll around the quaint little slice of heaven.

The entire walk was spent just trying to mumble my way through conversation as I tried to keep my emotions in check.  I was terrified.  The simple jaunt around the park turned into a mental battle as I fought to keep from losing control and breaking down into tears.  In the end, I was able to muster through it and make it back home.

Once getting through the door, I had a full on panic attack that lasted a long time.  It happened because I pushed myself to do something that normal people do, and that was to be out in public.  It wasn't until around midnight that I settled down and felt 'normal' again.

Anxiety and the fear of being outside are something that I have dealt with for years.  In that time, I have been on a number of different medications, seen multiple counsellors, and feel as though I have made no progress.  It is easy to feel unique and alone in such circumstances, as though there is something terribly wrong with you that nobody else can, or ever will be able to, understand.

One of the best things that happened because of my mental health struggles was the Mind Matters podcast, where Deane Proctor and I got together and were able to share what we, as well as a number of other people, are forced to go through.  It was great to have those conversations, and a privilege to share them with others as we did what we could to battle the stigma around mental health.

I still think I am nuts, but that's another story.

Through the podcast, there was a feeling of connectedness to the audience, speaking to people who may have felt as alone in their struggles as we did.  It was a way to talk about the difficulties of dealing with these issues from within the church, a place where the norm seems to be showing up on Sundays, wearing your best smiles, and pretending that life is good and grand.

The reality is that life isn't always good and grand.  For some of us, each minute of each day isn't good and grand.  We take the sunshine when we get it, but for the most part it feels like we are in a perpetual state of cloud cover and rain.  It is hard to exist in the superficial facade of the Sunday morning service.  And when you do open up and become vulnerable, there are many 'pray it away' solutions offered.  Of course I have tried prayer.  Humans are notorious for praying when things rough.  The simplistic pat answers that people would give makes me, and numerous other people, weary of sharing such struggles in the church.  I wait for the day that a church member tells someone seriously to 'pray away' male pattern baldness.

The benefit of opening up, however, came with the realization that there are other people in the church community like me.  Other closet sufferers who feel alone.  And that was what the podcast was all about.  Providing a place where we could have support and be together in our messiness.  Mind Matters assisted me in my ways of thinking through the subject, forced vulnerability, and gave me motivation.

This week, the decision was mutually made to end the podcast.  It is unfortunate, because of all of the good that it did myself and the way that it was able to be a connection for others.  The fact is that the conversation isn't done (it's far from over), but that our voices in this format had run their course.  We had done what we could, we carried the baton, and both Deane and I will continue to, just not in this format any more.

The hope is that our run with the podcast has encouraged people to be bold and know that they are not alone.  That there is nothing more wrong with them than there is anyone else.  Everybody has issues, ours are just of a stigmatized matter.  With any luck, there may be a few listeners who have decided to share their stories and were able to impact others.  That's the real hope, and one of the goals of what we set out to do.  We were always just a small part of the conversation, and we hope that you will be too.