Let's talk about #BellLetsTalk

   I struggle a little with the #BellLetsTalk  every year and I wonder if there are more people like me out there who are unsure of how to discuss about what it means to see our timelines flooded with well meaning, but sometimes offkey attempts to talk about mental health. I see the people who rant about Bell's terrible corporate track record when it comes to their own employees and the small drop in the bucket this campaign raises in relation to their enormous profits. I understand that Bell operates the prison phone system and exploits those already burdened by having an incarcerated family member and just trying to stay in touch. None of this kind of quasi-bad guy, mostly terrible stuff is not lost on me, no corporation is in the business of doing anything but what it is legally obligated to do and that is to maximize returns on investments for its shareholders. I have no doubt that there exists a lot of positive spin and increased profit found by Bell when this campaign runs every year, even with the larger donations gathered by the use of the hashtag on multiple social media platforms.

  Every one of these things is true and yet I still wonder if, despite the underlying corporate bullshit, it isn't still worth something to at least try to reach out to those who feel like there is nothing left for them here on this often seemingly uncaring and chaotic planet. Seeing your favourite athlete or brewery or what have you addressing the issue of mental health may spark hope in someone, it may give them the feeling they maybe aren't alone in this. Maybe it gets them talking to a friend, or to pick up the phone and call a crisis line. Maybe, just maybe, having a large and very visible campaign aimed at increasing the normalcy of asking for help and of checking in on your friends and family to see how they are doing may have some positives attached to it, despite the originators ultimate advertising aims. 

  I've spent the better part of the last decade struggling, often in silence, to try and fix my own mental health issues. I didn't wake up one day falling apart, it was a quiet and measured descent as I watched my business fail and the life I thought I had crumble around me. It was the slow bleed of stress, working longer hours for less money and an devastating downfall from the highs of my 20's and 30's. I gave up most things that brought me joy, let decades long friendships dwindle and die and generally stopped celebrating the milestones of life most people mark the passing year with. I still feel the push of that negative thought process, birthdays and anniversaries are heavy because it often feels like another step closer to the end of it all. That kind of darkness is hard to fight by yourself and as you become more isolated because you know how to push people away because it is safer in your mind to be alone so no one can ever hurt you, you descend deeper into that funk. You turn to alcohol, drugs or other potentially destructive behaviours that seemingly ease the pain of the moment with little regard to the future, because it doesn't matter. Nothing does and you see no way up, no way out and the numbness sets in with every single turn of the cap, pill or shot. This pattern may be different with you or someone you love, but the result in the end is the same, a depression that lifts less and less each time and can drive people to the edge and over it because hope is all but gone.

  So, how do we fix it? How do you stop someone from hurting themselves or those around them when they see no alternative? It's much bigger than just a single day or hashtag campaign by a large corporation and their partners. It involves governments prioritizing the mental health of its' citizens as much as their physical one. It involves active engagement in the lives of those we love and it involves being honest with ourselves when we know we need help. Asking for someone to listen to your problems and concerns is hard at the best of times, I personally was always worried about bothering anyone and that kept me silent for many years before this. We seek to normalize the notion that it is okay to not be okay and things like therapy and medical help for our mental health should be a bigger priority for not just our families but our workplaces. We look to making the world a little more compassionate to those who need it or a taking a day when you just need a break from it all. We want to be able to look the people we love in the eye and tell them we aren't handling something well and need a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen without judgement. 

 There is no quick fix or easy way to help one another outside of being there and reaching out to make sure the people we love are okay.  While a day like today is good and makes a whole lot of money for mental health initiatives, we need to remember that tomorrow and the next day and forever after that. Way too many people fall between the cracks of our social safety net and I know we don't want to lose someone because we waited too long to see that they were suffering in silence. Reach out to them, they may be too scared to do it themselves. Making our collective response to the mental health crisis we are facing today a positive and open one one because the world is better when we can help each other stand up and feel better.

  We want to talk about mental health, depression, suicide and self harm with an open honesty and despite the corporatization of mental health, the end result is we may be better off at least attempting to keep the conversation going long after this annual initiative has passed. Are there empty platitudes rolled out every year by a variety of brands and people who then recede into the background and often contribute to the problems we face rather than the solution? Of course and it is up to us as consumers to be informed and spend our money where we can support the places that truly value their employees mental and physical well being. At the end of it all, the hashtag can't be the whole conversation, it should just be the beginning...

Be safe and be kind.

Polk

The Polk, Myself and I

  There are three of us living here. Polk, who lives life through beer. Robert, who works 50+ hours a week to provide for this family and Rob, who is rarely seen and never heard from outside of this house.

  I am not suffering a break down or losing my mind, as it were, but rather looking at how compartmentalized my life has become in the last few years. I spent the majority of my adult years wandering through life with little direction, lurching from disaster to disaster and drowning my sorrows nightly in copious amounts of terrible beer and liquor. Things have changed for the better in the last few years but my struggle with alcohol, depression and life in general have only morphed and become more confusing.
  For most of my life I have been the good time guy, the party dude. I was the one planning and hosting bashes and family events, bringing people together and generally floating through life without much self reflection. My ability to close of parts of my life from others was reflected in my not caring if I was on the slow road to self destruction even as the walls came down around me. I fiddled while my personal Rome burned and it almost consumed me along with it.
  It wasn't that I didn't care, I am a reasonably intelligent guy and I watched, almost detached, as I careened down a path I didn't want to choose but was drawn to nonetheless. Catching a branch on that hill, craft beer became my hand up, my way out and I scrambled to find my footing as it slowly became more and more who I was. In a positive way, it changed the way I looked at my beer and after a little over 2 years, I have left the darkness behind...I hope.
  Getting back to the original inspiration for this post, my life has begun to feel even more and more like I am living 3 different lives in 1.  When we go to work, we try to put our best self forward. For me it is working with the public and having people I am responsible for that has me putting on that mask every morning and bing the most positive and cheerful fellow you know. I emphasize the bright side in all things and work very hard to make sure that I help bring that kind of energy to my interactions with everyone I meet. I do not allow myself to have a bad day and any negativity must be swept away with humour and a smile. Always the good guy, the day can weigh heavy but when someone is paying you to do a job, that shouldn't matter. Working in an ultra competitive industry with constant pressure to be better, sell more and keep the standards high has it`s pressures but that is Robert`s problem and where we leave them when closing time hits.
  Coming home leaves me only a few minutes to put everything away in my mind and move into my self for a while. I worry, I vent, I get angry and I let it go. As with the early morning hours before a shift, Rob spends that brief time trying to convince himself that life will be okay, that he can go to work, that the world will not collapse about his ears every single day. He is naturally pessimistic and this is why I spend as little time as possible in this state. It isn't like I switch them on and off but by focusing my energy in a specific direction, I can make that doubting, sad man disappear for a while.
  Polk is an easy going guy, most of the time. Occasional Twitter rants aside, I maintain a very happy go lucky attitude that looks for the best in people and does it genuinely. I always feel like this is me at my best and strive to put that me out there. Different from work me because there it can be forced and strained to keep my cool, while inside my little world of Polk, I`m actually happy.
  Craft beer helped me find something inside myself I didn't know existed and while I try to keep that kind of attitude all the time, being that guy can be just as draining as work Robert.
  Balance in all things is what I seek and while this may be a little tongue in cheek, it feels very real sometimes. But as a way to deal with what life can throw at me and still find some joy after a lifetime of making mistakes, it works and that is what really matters.

Cheers!

Polk
 

Polk on Mo' - Movember 2018

2016 Mo' Kickoff

  When I first started talking about my own personal struggles with mental health (depression, anxiety, and addiction to be specific), I didn't think anyone cared. After all, I was just a fat guy who took pictures of his beer and was a bit of a drunk most of the time. What the last 3 years has taught me is that there is a large minority of folks just like me who have suffered in silence and darkness far longer than is healthy or right but they didn't know how to talk about it.
  They didn't know how to approach their friends or family to ask for help.
  They didn't know how to talk to their medical practitioners about the effects of this all too common problem because they didn't want to waste the Doctor or Nurse's time.
  They didn't want to admit that it wasn't their fault and maybe it would be okay to seek therapy, medication or a change in circumstance.
  The conversations I have when I go out are mostly beer focused but there is always a quiet moment when someone will want to talk about their personal struggles. They approach me, silently making their way through the laughs and cheers of a bar or taproom and want to talk. They tell me they suffered in silence because they were trying to be strong, to project a happy life online in spite of their turmoil inside. They talk about not wanting to bother anyone or how someone they love had bigger problems than just not feeling well mentally. I am always open and honest with my ongoing struggle and I do my very best to let them know it is the first step they have taken in even acknowledging that they need help. I encourage them to open up, if not to me then someone they know and love. Trust plays a huge part of coming to grips with mental health issues and if being a public part of the conversation helps people, I am all for being even more open.

2017 Kickoff to Mo'

  The biggest problem facing many of those who suffer is trying to be strong for someone else. Spouses, siblings, children and so on seem to take precedence over your own life and while admirable, it isn't doing them or you any good to ignore your own health. Being strong isn't hiding and working yourself down to the bone. True strength comes from knowing when you need to lay down your shield and shovel and simply face your true self. You cannot help those around you forever because you will break down eventually. The people closest to you love you and care about your health, but it is your own self that you have to admit you're breaking down first. Talk to the people you love and tell them you need their help, they will surprise you with their support.

  Finding time to get help is another prominent reason so many of us ignore or suppress with other means our issues. We seek solace in the bottle, pill or drugs because it is easier to drown out the noises of hopelessness than address them. Work and home obligations seem to take up every waking moment until we have no time left for ourselves. Leaving yourself stretched to the limit will only make your crash all the more damaging as without a safety network of others to help, those relying on you will suddenly be bereft in a sea of uncertainty if you collapse. Take the time to seek help, self care is just as important as everything else in your life. You are no good to anyone when you are not good to yourself.
  As Movember gets underway for another year, I will continue to push for a better understanding and acceptance of the axiom "It's okay to not be okay". Men want to be strong and tough for our family and friends but the time has come that we act to change the idea of what that is. Being strong enough to reach out for help and being tough enough to know when you are doing more harm than good to those around you by carrying anger and depression with you every day.
  Healthy lifestyles include physical and mental components and when you know you are loved and supported no matter what, it can be a truly uplifting and even freeing feeling. I'll be adding to my usual focus on mental health this year by trying to be more active and getting myself out of my comfort zone a little more.
 Get moving, get talking and let's change the conversation.

If  you'd like to donate to my Mo' page, here's the link :

Drunk Polkaroo on Movember

Take care of yourselves.

Polk

Beer Festivals and Polk - A complicated relationship

  

I don't think there is any other way to do this. I mean I've known for a while my true feelings and kept them to myself. I tried and tried to get in line with popular thinking and experience the things like everyone else does. I want to be part of the good time gang but it is time to admit the sad truth about life as Polk.
  I don't like going to beer festivals.

  There I said it and I'm sure I will feel better at some point. I am not sure when this transformation happened, what kind of beer loving person wouldn't love seeing tens of great craft brewers in one place, hanging out with like minded people and experiencing all the frivolity a festival can bring? Apparently it's this guy and as I usually do, I have a theory.
  At the beginning, beer festivals were novel and fun, Kat would drive or we'd take a cab and get bombed on great and not so great beer, one 4 to 6 ounce sample at a time. I always went to every event with the intention of only sampling a few beers and maintaining my wits but ten minutes in and  I'm downing beer like Nic Cage in Leaving Las Vegas and trying to test every beer offered. It's loud and the lines may be long but all I can think of is pounding the next one, regardless of style or flavour profile.

  What makes me like this? I practice self control all the time at home and this should be no different except for one thing...I have to be social and that's when the anxious nervousness kicks in and I turn to the one thing I know can calm me down. Every sample alleviates my fears, bringing a false peace that exists only if my blood alcohol reaches a state of pure drunkenness. I have never gotten comfortable in relating to other people without alcohol and that is something I guess I should work on but I'm not sure if a hall full of $3 beers is a place to explore and confront the demons of anxiety.
  I don't like waking up the next morning feeling the effects of the previous evening. When I drink at home, I never go hard, preferring to enjoy every beer for what it is and not get hammered. I have no desire to see the return of the blackness and despite my best efforts, it always happens when I get together with a group of people and the beer flows. I chase inebriation in a crowd like a dog on a bone, my one skill as a former heavy drinker is the ability to put away a lot of beer faster than almost everyone else. The slurring words, half open eyes and poor motor skills are but a happy by product of a night filled indulging the worst of who I was and could be, I don't blame the festivals or the people I know, I just can't help who I am. That nagging voice comes creeping in whenever we hit the entrance and my self doubt about being able to handle a crowd without liquid courage roars into the front of my mind.

  It is funny that I spend 50+ hours a week working with the public in my job and at no point do I crave a beer. I mean, who wouldn't love a pint at lunch but I don't need alcohol to be able to do what I do. I talk to and deal with so many people and their problems every day and don't let it affect me but put me in a convention centre with 20 breweries and 5 friends and I'm looking for a funnel and a keg. It's not normal but it is what I deal with. Maybe it's the bro factor, no matter where we go, it's creeping its way into this craft beer space as the scene becomes more popular and mainstream. Or maybe it's that I can't really enjoy and experience each beer the way I've trained myself to that makes me lose control. Not staying focused and present in the moment and scrambling to get to the next one is not how I drink anymore nor do I have any desire to return to that life.
  It would be silly to say these festivals aren't about drinking a lot of beer. If you have 20 brewers show up with even 3 beers each that's 60 possible samples over perhaps 4 or 5 hours at best. After the 10th one, you're not really getting much out to them anymore except the ABV if you're being honest and that is fine for most people. They attend these events to have fun and let loose and I can support that whole heartedly. I will continue to promote and encourage people to go to these events but for me, right now, the cost in both money and my self worth is far too high a price to pay.
  The answers I seek about myself aren't always the ones I like to find but my pursuit of an honest and open life mean that is what I get sometimes. I don't want to give the impression that I don't like festivals, the people who attend them or the breweries who participate, I just am struggling with the person I become when I go. Not everyone has that kind of problem and I do love to see the pictures and stories my friends share when they go to various events around the world. I hope someday I will be able to come back in a better state of mind and without the anxiety driving me to forget everything I've worked so hard on and lean in hard on getting my drunken stupor on. Life is funny but not when your knee deep in a sea of trying to bullshit yourself about being in control.
  I'll be cheering you all on from the sidelines this year and hoping everyone has a safe and fun time at every event. The people who volunteer or work them are pretty awesome too and along with my extended beer family, those are the things  I will miss the most. But after a lot of time spent reflecting on my own mental health, I do need a break from that part of my craft beer life so that I can keep my sanity intact.
Have fun and remember to try something new when you get the chance, that's a pretty awesome part of any festival for me.


Cheers!
Polk
 
 


 

Frankie & Cat Stevens - When I was a Drunk in a Bar

 

Order another round Young Polk.

I used to frequent a local hole in the wall bar near my house when I was in my early 20's called Shuffles. The food was outstanding, homemade perogies and cabbage rolls with so many more amazing dishes I get hungry remembering them; it was a fine but simple place with the usual macro beers on tap and some decent but not pricey liquor. The proprietors were friendly people who remembered your name and were a part of why you stopped in as the cold beer you craved. Much like Cheers, it was indeed a place that felt like home and I would drop in almost every day after work to read the paper, have a little conversation and a $5 mini pitcher or 3 of whatever was on tap, more often than not Canadian or Coors light. It was when you could smoke in bars and the blue haze along with a juke box filled with classic rock, country and the odd 90's hit made it feel like a basement hangout, just with a motley crew of East End Hamilton's finest degenerates.
  Becoming a regular in a bar after my divorce caused me to move back home again at 23 wasn't what I had envisioned my life being but I quickly grew to love that feeling when I walked through the doors every day. A couple of my Uncles had long been patrons and many a night I spent at their sides, drinking a few pints and shots, listening to old tales and feeling like I had found my place. I was hurting bad inside from the break up but hadn't really been into drinking for so many years that I didn't see the slide begin. And when I did, not only was it too late, I didn't care any more.
  Many times we made last call and after the door was locked, dimmed the lights, pulled the shades and kept right on drinking. Like I said, we were degenerates but we gave a shit about each other and didn't want the party to end.
  One guy in particular still stands out in my memory and I am certain I am being nostalgic and seeing it with beer covered glasses but he was one of those people you don't forget. His name was Frankie and he was the most regular of the regulars, there when they opened, home for a meal and back again. Slumped against the bar in a legendary pose, smoke in one hand, beer or shot in the other, he would opine about any subject and I often spent my time listening to his glorious drunk talk about loves won and lost and life lived on the outside of normal. We would head deep into that zone only real drunks know where you think you're figuring it all out and wake the next day with the feeling that everything you said was bullshit but that didn't matter because we were getting close. Searching for answers at the bottom of the bottle and not finding them didn't mean we would give up, it meant we would get another bottle and look again. But what I remember most is the music he would pick as his time at the bar wound down, almost every day. 'Father and Son' and 'Wild World' from Cat Stevens are burned into my memory for life as both sides of the same coin. Struggling with the end of what was supposed to be the grand love story of my life, not knowing where to turn next and having little in the way of direction, I felt the loneliness and longing in each note he played. Drunk is no way to try to process life's big questions, but what did I know then. Looking back now with a lifetime of beautiful and sad memories I can feel a tear and a smile at the same time because I know it turned out okay even if I had no way of knowing it would.  
 

Still on rotation in my house.
All the feels.

These two songs always get me no matter what I am doing or feeling, they make me want to remember the times I forgot because I was so deep in the well of depression and self loathing but medicated by booze and beer to the point of pure inebriation. There exist no pictures from these "legendary" times as it was the mid nineties, long before digital cameras and smart phones had us documenting our entire existences. Part of me is grateful for that but there is a longing for a snapshot or two of those times just so I can prove they really happened.
  Frankie was probably a lonely man with lots of friends and I'd be lying if part of me doesn't wonder if I will ultimately end up on that same path. Searching for answers that I don't even know the questions to while drinking myself into oblivion has some pull, even now after the last 3 years of trying to calm that beast inside me. I've worked hard to leave that guy behind me but when the stress of everything life throws at you points you to the bottle and you know it will make you feel good, even temporarily, that's hard to say no to. Even knowing the problems don't go away and in fact could be made worse by drowning them in drink doesn't faze the dark Polk that I know lurks down inside me.
  Choosing life and knowing I don't want to go back to being that guy again has to be a conscious decision. I ponder every beer I drink and try to enjoy what it brings to the glass without pounding it in search of the darkness again. I miss my bar fly days but only in that way we all look back on the simpler times when a beer was a beer and we drank because that was what you did, feelings were for wimps and smokes were cheap. It wasn't better, but it just was who we were and what we knew. Things are different now but part of me does long for a time when I didn't care because it was so much easier to just let go and get bombed.
  I'm not looking to recreate my youth, just ruminating about the times I was so close to just letting my life slide into the haze because it is floating in the ether of my mind and won't let go until it is written. I don't hide behind the booze or drugs, I bring that beast into the open and expose it to the light to kill it and take back my power over what leaves me powerless. It's a good day when I stay in control and the more of them I have, the more I want. Moderation is my watchword now and with a little luck and some attention to the triggers that drive me to over consume I may not end up that old guy at the end of the bar playing songs to bring back the memories only to drown them in my glass.


Cheers.


Polk

Help end the Stigma - Movember 2017

  Last year for Movember, I shaved off my goatee and grew a moustache in support of Men's Health awareness. It was the first time I had participated in anything like that and I choose to make the focus of my efforts on mental health initiatives. Getting men to open up about their difficulties with depression, anxiety and a host of other quiet diseases that affect them isn't easy and this year I would like to take that campaign a step further and try to help end the phrase and culture of "Man up."

  You hear it all the time, hell I used to say that exact phrase when talking to people who seem to always have some kind of issue. "Man up" isn't just about pulling up your bootstraps and carrying forward despite any obstacles, it has come to mean suppressing emotions, fears and depression. It symbolizes a kind of toxic masculinity where we revere the silent type who never reveal their pain or ask for help. We tell young boys to stop crying because it's weak, we tell them to control their emotions because a man is quiet and keeps such things to himself. When I was growing up we never were explicitly told to bottle up our feelings but the slurs that would rain down on anyone showing the slightest weakness made clear the path we were to take. I cannot imagine the pain caused for those who are gay, questioning their sexuality or place in the world when we were growing up as the words and actions of those afraid to express themselves would manifest in severe bullying, even assault. To protect at all cost your rep as a man was paramount and no one wanted to be seen as a sissy or worse. Being different meant an exile from the social world of our youth and we learned to keep our feelings to ourselves, putting up a front of toughness to the outside world.

  I have definitely noticed a shift in how we teach young men to deal with their emotions and mental health issues. Even coming from a generation where we were taught to keep it inside, I see an opening up in the channels of communication and that is good. But society and culture are sometimes slow to react and every time I see or hear the phrase "Man up", I cringe and want to ask the person just what they mean. Do they want the guy to ignore his mental or physical problems? To bottle up whatever he is feeling and conform to some out dated notion of what it takes to be a man? It isn't enough anymore to be silent in the face of increasing societal pressures and changing norms, we have to do better. Teaching young men that it is okay to show weakness and ask for help would go a long way to addressing the bigger issues facing us today. The rise in suicides, substance abuse and lashing out in an attempt to escape from or numb their internal pain means we aren't doing a good enough job of reaching out either. It is more than being good role models and showing the next generations how we can be better men, it is about communicating to them that we are supporting them as they grow and learn.

  We have to be the beacon on the hill for our fathers, sons, nephews, brothers and friends when it comes to mental and physical health. To take down the "Man up" crowd means we have to show vulnerability in asking for help when we need it and creating a place in our lives where we reach out to them when we see they need a hand. Not everyone who needs help will ask for it and I say putting the onus on those who are secretly hurting to come forward to seek help is simply ignoring a problem and hoping it will go away. If you care about someone and see they are hurting, sometimes it is going to take a little effort on your part to get them the help they need. And to those of us who let pride get in the way of seeking help I say the time has come to admit we can't do it all, we have doubts and fears and need a shoulder to lean on every once and a while.  I don't want to create a society of dependence but the silent screams of millions of men who just wish they could talk about things that are bringing them down and causing them pain and the needless deaths that result from that have to stop. "Man up" means internalizing your thoughts, feelings and doubts and the end result is the perpetuating of a culture where our sons and nephews continue the cycle. We can break the chains to a past that doesn't exist anymore and create a world where we feel safe and secure in expressing ourselves without fear of losing face or the respect of our peers.

  It is on us to show the way and lend a hand up to anyone we can. Being a man is more than being tough, it is about doing what is right and knowing when you need help yourself. To affect change we have to start somewhere and removing the phrase "man up" is a small and subtle change to broaden the tent and bring everyone closer to the help they need without marginalizing their mental or physical health needs.

  So let's try to do something, because doing nothing isn't an option anymore and we have to end the senseless deaths of our brothers. Every time a man hits the bottom of his resolve, the answer shouldn't be "man up", it should be the hand of a friend helping him to his feet and lending ongoing, positive support. I have come a long way since last November, seeking help for my own problems and trying to be an active friend for those around me when I see something is amiss. To truly change we have to acknowledge where we are coming from and where we want to be, the young men we are raising to go out in the world need to know that they are allowed to have feelings, doubts and fears. But we also have to show them that by opening up and addressing those problems, we are getting stronger, not weaker. Let's end the culture where our silence is killing those we love and leaving us a little emptier inside.

  I will be shaving away my goatee again this year and I hope you will join me (in reality or in spirit) in helping to end the stigma surrounding men asking for help when they need it. Let's work together to make sure the future is a place where everyone can find happiness and joy with their life.

  You can follow along on my Mo Space page at Drunk Polkaroo , donate and help us change the world for the better.

Polk

The Dark Veil

I don't know how it starts or even what causes it, but when that Dark Veil starts coming down, it is near impossible to stop it. Depression is different for everyone and for me it begins with an actual physical feeling of that heavy veil weighing down my eyes. It is a physical manifestation of the darkness that is coming. Unable to force it to stop, I can only try to anticipate it's duration and the consequences everyday activities will impose on my mind. Everything becomes open to the black hole that is the depression and I don't know how to lift it.

The light seem dim, eating loses its appeal and every conversation is littered with triggers that set me off. I almost feel like I step outside myself at this time and watch my downward spiral through a tinted lens. I know what is happening but am powerless to halt its progress. Leaden steps, heavy limbs and a feeling of dread fill every morning, afternoon and night. I have developed a very good act to use during these times and the smile on my face disappears as soon as you turn away. My laughter echoes in the emptiness of what used to bring me joy and even trying to carry a conversation takes more than I can bear. I can understand those people for whom their depression leaves them unable to even leave the house, I have to convince myself every day to get out of bed when I am covered by the Veil. Fear is a powerful motivator and when you have come close to losing everything, you can make yourself go to work, even when you can barely stand to brush your teeth in the morning. I am always worried there will come a day when I can't even talk myself into going in and that is not a day I am sure I can handle.

The only truth I know is that it will come back, again and again. My only weapon is my mind and when that is compromised by the Veil, I feel lost. A natural joy and its corresponding dread is the routine of life and when you feel alone, unwanted and unworthy, it is hard to see the light of a better tomorrow.
But still I prevail.
I remind myself that waking up each day is a victory. Each step on the walk to work, a triumph and the completion of a shift, success.
I have learned that the smallest of joys can begin to push the dark cloud away, but I am also aware that the tiniest miscue can clamp it down again. The balance is delicate and despite my thinking I know exactly what is happening, it still persists. Lasting sometimes only days but most often weeks at a time, I have little control over its duration.
Men are supposed to be tough, strong and silent. I have become so good at masking the desperate nature of my emotions and it is rare that anyone knows of the dark presence in my days. I either don't know or can't bring myself to ask for help and it is frustrating. I am constantly advocating for my friends and family who suffer from mental health issues to get help, but when it comes to my own problems, I am like a wounded animal. I do what I must to survive and retreat to the relative safety of my home as soon as I can.
And that is how I survive. One day at a time until I start to feel the Veil lift. Slowly and in stops and starts until one day I wake up and my smile is real, my step light and the day holding only promise. I try to keep that feeling as long as I can and try to remember it for the next time it begins to weigh down on my life.