The duality is not lost on me. As I speak, a podcast interview in which I dove headlong into my depression and it’s daily role in my life is being set live on the internet. This coincides with my nearly cyclical ninety day collapse into said depression.
While I seem to quip and make light, doom spreads and my friends and family watch me implode. A mental black hole with exponential gravitational pull. It’s enveloping silence mimicked only by my same need for quiet. Turning inward and inward. Quieter and quieter. Darkness squeezing in.
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I wrote this yesterday and it is ominous but five days ago I maybe said four sentences to those around me. On days like that I feel like not talking is the only option as there is nothing to say. Everything I do feels suffocated by anxiety, an actual physical feeling. The normal things don’t work. I walked 4 miles then ran 3. Work feels scattered and like I am doing all the wrong things. It feels like I should quit and start over. People ask me questions and I mumble one word answers. It all feels off. I try to breathe to center myself and it doesn’t do anything. I sit down with a pen and paper and try to articulate what I think will make it better. What do I think I can do to shake myself loose. A lot of times it’s just doing things that achieves this. Some days like Monday and Tuesday, nothing works. So you just do your best to smile through it and know you get another chance in the morning.
I come back today just to let you know I see the dichotomy. I still land on this will pass. I still know that I will come out of this episode in a week or three weeks or a month or so. This seems like a long time to feel this way but once I felt this way every day for over for two years, so I can make it another day.
Make it through today, then tomorrow, then the next.
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I sat down with my friend Jenni Peters on June 25th to talk about my life in running. Jenni is about as close to a mentor as I have ever had, but even so, I realized when we spoke that she knew little about how I got here. Maybe mentor is the wrong word. She’s been supportive of me for as long as I can remember and sometimes support is as valuable as sage advice. Besides perhaps discussing how to become a running shoe rep in the early 2000’s, I’m not sure I’ve asked her much. I still value her friendship and know I could ask if needed and that is enough.
We sat down to discuss the last 35 years or so of my life. My arrival in Baton Rouge in 1989 through today. She asked prior to the taping if we could discuss my depression and my willingness to share it so openly. I said of course and we embarked.
You can find the interview below.
Youtube
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Over the couple weeks prior, I could feel the onset of another dive into depression. For me it starts when I wake up. In the early days, I just feel an increased anxiety right when I wake up. As the days progress, this feels all encompassing all day and I long to just go to sleep at the end of the day as it feels like the one thing that will let me relax. 7-8 hours later it remains and I go to bed.
This anxious hum eventually turns more and more ominous. This week, I was standing on the end of the dock at our cottage in Canada and I was anxious about jumping in the water. Overly. I wanted to jump in and was going to regardless. I still felt specifically wound up about it. I get similarly wound about the start of almost any action. This is a new thing. It passes over and over but it’s still there.
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In the above interview I talk a bit about my choice to not seek outside therapy or medication. Some more on that. In the fall of 2024 I went through 100 days or so of trying different antidepressants and finally said, “This ain’t for me.” In the back half of the 80’s I went to a therapist. The first stint, following my dad’s six month trip to rehab. It went well. A couple years later I went back again and found I knew what to say and was unengaged with the process. It left me frustrated and set me on a course of “deal with it” for the past 35 years. I am open to looking for and trying this again, but my brief search through recommended therapists a couple years back left me furious and unwilling to continue the search. There was little to no availability and all options were out of pocket.
I say the above because my way is what I have chosen. It’s not perfect, and it includes months long dives into tough spaces, but it’s where I am today.
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What’s worked mostly for me for the past 25 years is exercise, more running than anything. It channels the hum and settles my brains most days. Cycling and swimming help but not the same way as running.
So I run and I write and I work through it.
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If you are going through it, feel free to reach out to me via text 225.329.7766 or social media messenger channels. I for sure won’t fix you, but I will listen.
Most times, that’s all you need.
Over the last few months I have been searching and searching for what this is about. I think it’s this. I think that a lot of us need help. Men specifically. If you want to join the conversation, consider subscribing. Consider sharing this. Consider commenting.
Good lookin' out! Thanks for lending an ear to anyone who might need it.
Thank you for offering yourself as a resource.