I believe that nearly everyone hits “bottom” in one way or another. For some, circumstances of life are incredibly tragic and painful, resulting in their bedrock experience. For others, the circumstances may not seem horrible, but they lack the ability to cope with any of life’s curve balls. And everyone’s version of the dreaded “bottom” sits on a continuum of severity. Regardless, these experiences are real. And these are the same experiences that can lead either to ruin, or a new beginning.

As I stated in my last post, The Bottom, Part 3, my experience with hitting bottom turned out to be a new beginning—though I wasn’t aware of it at the time. And today, a little over a year later, I am thankful for having been there. But let me share something with you, not all beginnings are instant. I mean, sometimes the path to restored faith, and purpose, and health can be a long, hard, and painful one. In fact, I believe that to be the case almost every time. But let me share something else with you, it is totally worth it!

A New Beginning

I left off last week at my bottom. (Hehe…I said, my bottom.) And if you read all three installments of this part of my story, you will notice that it was but a snapshot—a moment in time. Truth be told, the arrival to that moment took years. As the path to restoration is often a long journey, reaching despair can be also. As I eluded to, and mentioned directly, I had a combination of circumstances. I had instant and unexpected tragedy in the deaths of my mom and brother. I had periods of extreme stress in my college coursework and promotions at work. I also had periods of PTS (post-traumatic stress) resulting from things I have witnessed during my career in emergency services. I had a daughter in her senior year of high school and was trying to come to terms with her going off to college soon. And all of this was on top of the circumstances of life that we all deal with on a regular basis.

But with all this said, there is one constant that underpins the tragedy, and stress, and life circumstances. I was not taking care of my mental, physical, emotional, nor spiritual health. For the longest time, I had been “sucking it up.” I deluded myself with these thoughts:

• I am alone in this. Nobody else is depressed about “nothing.”
• Only “crazy” people need mental healthcare.
• I work out occasionally. I’m active. I’m good.
• Showing true emotions is weak; masking emotions shows strength.
• I attend church. I serve as a worship leader. I attend a Christian college. Me and Jesus must be tight.

Guess what—and this may come as a surprise to you—I was full of CRAP!

Hindsight is indeed 20/20; this is more than cliché. Looking back, it is obvious to me how delusional I was. But sometimes it is hard to see clearly at certain moments in life. And when one is trying with all of his might to maintain control of the uncontrollable, more than sight is askew.

The day after my embarrassing meltdown at work, I realized that I was at the end of me. And for a control freak, this is the scariest place to be! I was terrified. I suddenly realized that I was powerless to choke back any of my emotions—they now lay on my sleeve. I couldn’t keep myself busy with stuff—I no longer had the strength. I now had to face the fears, and failures, and traumas that I had long tucked away—my treasured inner box was destroyed. And I was unable to rely on God for my wellbeing—because my god, I began to realize, was me.

For the next few days, I laid in bed. When I slept, it wasn’t restful. And when I woke, I was less than hopeful about my situation. I simply existed. (The only thing I was doing successfully was converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. Hehe!) And while it all felt purposeless, and painful, and utterly exhausting at the time, I have come to learn that this was exactly where I needed to be.

Backing up just a tad, let me mention my workplace, again. I must say that, not only was the immediate response of my deputy chief incredibly helpful, my department chief and employer were also supportive. I talked to my chief on the phone and he offered me any support that he could. I filed paperwork for family medical leave with my employer and took nearly two months off work. I can’t imagine any better way that my situation could have been handled. I was incredibly fortunate. Some are not so lucky—especially emergency service workers. (In fact, two buddies of mine who have similar stories had horrible encounters with their employers. One, a great employee, was shunned and placed in a corner to do office work until he was forced to quit. The other, also a great employee, was told by his superior, “Get the f— out of my office! You are just trying to get the summer off!” Can you believe this? And some wonder why suicide rates are on the rise among emergency service workers.)

So there I was, existing. I felt that everything I had always known was now suspect. (With one exception: Jessi, my wife. She was, and will always be a constant for me.) I was certain that I would lose my career in the fire service; and lose everything else that my career supported. I thought God had abandoned me; never had God felt so distant. I had nowhere to turn. Though Jessi was/is an amazingly supportive partner, I believe she, too, was wondering where all this was heading.

I am beginning to realize that my writing is a lot like a Tarantino movie. (Hopefully a PG Tarantino movie, if there was such a thing.) I jump around a lot! But once again, I need to go back in my story. I feel that it sets the stage well for one of the most important parts of my healing.

Before my mental implosion and emotional explosion at work, I was actively seeking answers to my situation. Again, I really had no idea where my depression and anxiety were coming from. I was doing some reading, seeing a talk therapy counselor, and looking for any little nugget of hope. And on October 1, 2017, a friend of mine went on a “Kindness Rant” on Facebook. To paraphrase, she pointed out the importance of simple acts of kindness. Kind gestures, however small and seemingly insignificant, matter to people—some of whom may be in the midst of a silent battle. And for good reason, this “rant” struck a chord within me. I realized how right she was/is. So I echoed her sentiments in my own Facebook post. And for the first time, in an extremely public way, I mentioned my struggles with depression and anxiety. Nearly instantly, I became part of a community I had no idea existed…

That’s it for this week’s blog post. Next week I will give you some insight into my new community. It is a community I didn’t want to become a part of, but I am glad I was accepted so graciously into it.

Oh, yeah. Please remember to share Jim Ladiski Writes with all of your friends and family.

Be well…

P.S. If you have a story to tell and would like to join Jim Ladiski Writes as a guest blogger, please contact me!