Catalyst

Picture this. It’s 2015 and I just graduated from my masters program. Months pass, I begin working in insurance, find my own spot in Spryfield, NS. Have my dog Jax. Peachy. Fall leaves appear, daylight savings means darker and colder nights. At this point the depression had sat with me for so long that the pretend attempts at going to the gym and eating healthier felt impossible. Butting out cigarettes in the workplace parking lot at 12:55pm to return to my desk for 1:00 pm. Only to count down the minutes until 5:00 pm where my bed felt like the only friend I had left. Thoughts of performance, shitty calls at work, questioning my worth, value, eating habits, weight, etc. The days become shorter, darkness present. Leaves now falling, pumpkins turning to Christmas tress in Costco and Wal Mart. Winter on Cowie Hill. Dating’s a mess this winter. Cocktail of pharmaceuticals trying to make me “feel happy” went down each morning and at night. Apathy towards life, and any attraction to women. Lethargic. Numb the pain away with alcohol this weekend? Let’s go. Smoke another cigarette to feel something and block out the noise for a few minutes. The yellow light peering in through my blinds, wind howling, too cold to open the windows but too hot in the apartment. Tossing, turning, wondering why my life had amounted to a job that I hated that stepped so far outside of what I enjoyed doing. Return from work. Weed to block out the anxiety that came along from being worried about what my boss thought of me at work or what the employee told me during the calls that day. Repeat.

It’s late December now and my depression and anxiety is sky rocketing. Just after Christmas, I haven’t told anyone due to pride and the importance of being a man and staying silent. Sick days become more prevalent, Jax is poorly taken care of. Piles of shit in the spare room. Left for weeks on end. Garbage is all over the apartment, watching TV, but really wishing for sleep and more of it. Mattress moves to the living room. I stay for days. Minimal movement aside from answering the door for delivery and using the washroom. Sink is piled up. Stacks of clothing in my room and closet, barely clean within the week. Hygiene down the tubes. Smelling like smoke and being nose blind to the smells contained in my ’09 Hyundai. Tinder. Sorting through endless swipe after swipe of meaningless conversation. Until one notification pops up. You have matched with ________. Hey, wait I know her! Let’s give this a go. Let’s give it one last shot. Conversation is great. Hey, I got a laugh. She lives in NS? Eh good start here. We talk for a few days. Hey Matt! You there? Okay…I cease all contact

Nothing that she had done. I had simply succumb to my demons and my thoughts. How could anyone love this? How could anyone come live with the mess I am? Weeks go by, I’m working double time in supportive housing and in insurance, and I’m burning out for the first of many times. The dark days kept getting darker. Pills weren’t working. It’s into January and then February, I get past my suicide attempts, and barely chugging along, I matched with her again. It was a moving day at Caldy Grange and I was jazzed up. I sent her a message and asked how she was doing. Doing good, doing good. Just bullshit conversation until I stopped asking questions. I ask her out. We go out on our first date. McDonalds. She had a long day, asked if I wanted meet her over in Dartmouth. Had great conversation. Chatted about life, current jobs, interests, etc. Reminisced on a time we met before; however we had never spoke. This is great. Let’s do this. Smiling from ear to ear. I knew I found someone. It was easy conversation. I always though she was beautiful, from the first time I saw her, but she didn’t know this. I felt some life again.

Ghosts me. Told me that she started hanging out with someone else and was going to see where that was going to go. I’m furious. Not at her. She had every right to do what she wanted and choose who she wanted to be with. I left her hanging before. I left her hanging for months with no answer, and no reason. She gave me a shot, and I must’ve blew it at the date.  I was mad at myself because I gave it another shot, and that I had let her go. That she wasn’t going to be in my life and that maybe this was the end.

I remember lying in my living room, reading the texts again to see what I said or did wrong. It didn’t make sense. We laughed, visiting for 2 hours at a McDonald’s. I stared at her the entire time in my raggedy sweatpants and skate shoes. I remember finally finding something and someone worth fighting for. I wanted to try this and give it my all. Something I had lost for so long. So I gave it one more shot. I sat up from my mattress, covered in candy and chip bag wrappers and put my thumbs to the test. I asked her for one more chance to show her how happy I know I could make her. I asked her to forgive me, for reasons I couldn’t bring myself to explain other than a “couple hard months.” Just give this guy one more shot. And after an evening of me fighting for the one thing I was holding onto. I got a bite. She gave me a shot.

We started dating in winter/early spring and I don’t think she knew what she was in for. I hadn’t fully come through with everything that was going on, and she saw it early on. She fell in love with my dog, and started taking care of him for me. She saw my days were exhausting and defeating. Coming home, no desire for further interaction or comfort. The idea of engaging in conversation post work, in the dark, couldn’t outweigh the thought of climbing in bed. Mood swings. High and Low. Mania some nights with dark depressive episodes of crying, defeat and shame the next. Smoking weed to hide the pain and talk about what was going on with anyone. Panic and anxiety attacks came to anger and anger turned into destruction and yelling. One evening, I lost it. To the point where she questioned our relationship and the person she had been dating. Was it worth it? How much longer can I take this shit? The garbage, the emotions, the harsh words and criticizing. The ugly. Activities of daily living, impossible. Back to work. Sick days. Back to work. Finances are terrible. Debt. Bills. Darkness setting in again.

But she stayed. She started from the foundations with me in building my trust. That even though you’re going through this dark period of time in your life, I’m going to be there to support you. She showed me that there weren’t any piles of dog shit, heaps of clothing and dishes, that were going to keep her from building from the ground up. And I needed it. I needed it because depression, anxiety and shame had ripped the motivation from me to complete any of the essential tasks that I needed too, and exposed the lack of skills that I had in the first place.

That’s where she targeted next. Day after day, working two jobs throughout the week. She showed up and loved me for who I was. She helped take my dog out on time so he no longer pissed and shit in my spare room. She picked up food. She cleaned my bathroom regularly. Got me out for walks with Jax. Made sure I had my medications and taking them on time. Meal prep. Just simply being there and even though my worst colours shone through, she was present.

The next part of her plan was getting me back to being social. When you’re going through your darkest times, these are the times where your friends and family are the last people you want to see or talk about what’s going on. I always loved them, but I was embarrassed of what I was going through and felt like a failure. Social isolation was a huge part of my depression and anxiety and I left contact with most besides a few close friends. But she encouraged me to keep trying and being open to seeing friends. To re-connect on PlayStation, going home to be with my parents, and her parents, and getting out golfing again, a sport that I had missed so much. Going to parties, seeing my friends on weekends, and making plans to get out in nature.

Accountability. Doing for Matt time was now over. It was time to sit in the back seat and guide him along his way. No that’s not how you fold clothes. Yes, you do have to clean your bed sheets and separate colours from whites. Yes, you do have to take the dog out two times per day. If you get to work today, we can go out for a walk and some food later on. Positive encouragement, coaching, guidance, and help with repetition of skills and tasks that I needed and wanted to be able to do independently. Wait, who’s the friggin OT in this relationship? What the hell is going on here?

As the months’ continued, I’m now at the endpoint of my short-term disability claim from work, self doubt and suicidal ideation alive and well, she pushes me to apply for a dream job at Dalhousie. I got it. I have a new job. I’m feeling good. I have someone in my life who’s trying to understand what I’m going through. I make the personal decision of going off my medications for good and start to get some energy back. I’m getting into the swing of things and a spark of life comes through. We decide to move in together that December. I saw a person who, through the thick of continued depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation, saw through the fog. She saw me for the kind, and gentle person I know I am and always was. She knew that the investment in time, energy, and consistent effort to strategize and help outlast the storms brought upon her. Consistency. She picked me up when I was down. Patience. She said nothing in the perfect moments. And she continues to be that person for me, every single day. Coaching me to be better. Demanding respect and showing commitment in the rarest of forms. Setting boundaries with me around what she would and would not accept, what she would and would not do. She brought me back to life.

My fiancée Erin is my catalyst. She’s a beautiful, hardworking, strong woman, who loves working with people and getting the job done right. She’s my coach. My inspiration. The best mom to our beautiful two dogs and hopefully young bearded folk running around over the next few years. She showed up every single day for me for 2 years straight with the unwavering commitment to influencing positive change, through coaching me and being there and continues to help me along my path. Being there by my side and saying. I accept you for who you are, Matt. I support you in everything and anything you choose to do. I will be there and I love you.

Being a positive change agent in someone’s life who is struggling with mental illness is no small feat. So many of you do it every day. You’re the one this person counts on day in and day out. You take the time to understand and sit with loneliness to offer comfort. You have taken the time to be there for friends losing family, family losing friends, heartache, heartbreak, injury, failure, addiction, grief, shame, and other mental illnesses. The first break up. Divorce. Winning it all to losing everything. Anxiety. Depression. Suicide. You are a warrior of the most valuable kind and you deserve to be recognized for the work you do. Silent, behind the scenes work, yet so effective. You’re the Mom’s, the Dad’s, the partners, the friends. You’re the neighbour, the healthcare practitioner that believed. You’re the teacher that stayed after class to talk. You’re the support aid that went above and beyond. You’re the social workers and support staff that are there for your clients, day in and day out. Nurses. Doctor’s. OT’s. PT’s. Speech. You’re the landlord that understands what progressive thinking can do in the lives of people living with mental illness. You’re there. And you do it consistently. Giving it your best effort to try and make someone’s days and weeks that much better. Even during the darkest of times and there doesn’t seem to be much light at the end of the tunnel, but trust me you are noticed, and you are making a difference. Gratitude has been a big part of my recovery in mental illness and I think it’s extremely important to thank those who showed up and were there consistent along your journey. I think it shows even more evidence for the notion that we are never alone and don’t have to face this often times difficult road alone. Family. Friends. Mentors and Professors who sat and listened. Students. Co-workers. We can be there for the ones we love. It takes time, love and patience and consistent support to help those struggling. Take a seat. Setting up an environment for change is uncomfortable. And when that change does come through, and you see success, know that this person is forever grateful for the work and time you put in. You showed up.

A few months back Erin and I were lying in bed just sitting in the dark chatting away. Some of the darker times I subconsciously store away in the back caverns of my mind so I don’t have to deal with it. And sometimes when you choose not to remember how you were, and you continue along your journey to wellness, you forget about how far you’ve come, so I’ll ask her now and then what it was like to gain some perspective. Later in the conversation that night, I asked her why she stayed. She sat up, looked at me and held my hands saying “Matt, I stayed because I knew the real you was on the other side. That if I saw this through and tried to understand and be there, a better you would come through.” And it did.

 I can’t wait to marry her.