Let's Get Real About Marriage

 ASHTON

The diagnosis came in my first year of law school. I was having difficulty coping with a friend’s death, was not sleeping well, and was overall not myself. I was able to manage with medication for a few years. At some points I was nearly weaned off the medication and sometimes I was taking it more frequently.  However, in the spring of 2014 I was hit with a Mack truck. It was depression. Anxiety. It was dark and the clouds have not completely cleared yet.

Ashley and I were married in the spring of 2012. She knew I was on medication but we really didn’t talk much about it. If I missed a day’s dose or wanted to wean off of it, I did so without consulting her. By about January 2014 I thought that I was pretty much in the clear. I was married, expecting my first child, had a good job, and was certainly not “depressed.” See, I didn’t understand at the time that depression was a physical, physiological, and psychological condition. It’s not just being unhappy. Those who haven’t experienced it sometimes have a hard time grasping there’s a difference.

I remember sitting in a Sunday sermon. The pastor gave a vivid analogy that I will never forget. He was discussing sin and how it catches up with you. He advised that if you don’t deal with it, that there will be consequences. He painted this word picture, “Visualize an F-16, fully loaded with missiles, bullets, and all the bells and whistles.” He went on to say that if it’s not dealt with, then the sin in your life will cause far more harm, damage, and carnage than that F-16 ever could.  To be clear, he also followed up with stories of mercy and grace but that is not exactly what stuck in my mind that day (I don’t want those who are not familiar our Church to think it is Sunday morning fire and brimstone).

During most sermons I am able to deflect some of the lessons. I say to myself that this lesson is for “those people” and not “me,” but this one for some reason leveled me. I wanted to say the sermon was for those who were having some sort of addiction problem, or a potential emotion or physical affair—neither of which were at the forefront of my issues—but I couldn’t get away from that feeling of fear. I was shaking, stressed, and uncomfortable with my place in God’s kingdom. Oddly enough, I knew consciously  that was not even remotely the point of the message but couldn’t shake it.

That very night I got a call about an immediate family member. It was a message that I knew would come my way at some point, and I was completely dreading it. As a hyper planner you’d think I had planned and was prepared for it. I wasn’t. I broke. There was not a death involved, but the amount of grief I experienced following that call was analogous.

In the afternoon leading up to that call I spoke to Ashley in a semi-state of panic, “I am not doing good and I think something bad is going to happen.” Her mind ran to something health-related or maybe a car collision. That wasn’t it for me. I had the constant fear that my wife, soon-to-be daughter, and job were going to be taken. I shook in fear that the next moment my family would abandon me and would talk behind my back. That they would be ashamed.  That they would put distance between themselves and me. I waded through the next few days trying to constantly catch my breath, trying to work myself through my fear, thinking the next moment was going to be my last.

I’ve learned that anxiety is fear combined with a sense of urgency. The fear is of the unknown and the urgency is the process of dreading it or running from it physically or mentally. This may not be the same for everyone, but that definition was spot on for me. I spent my waking hours in a state of panic.  I thought that this was the day, this was the minute, this was the second that my world would be over as I knew it.

The problem with this type of “depression” was that I wasn’t fearing simply an illness, or an injury. I was afraid of living my life. I had the fear that in my next moment the police would barge in the door and haul me off to jail. For what? Not entirely sure. I spent months, if not years, analyzing all of the wrong things I had done. Was it going to be “this” or was it going to be “that” to get me? In my head I was the judge, jury, and executioner. I was able to go from zero, sitting happily drinking coffee, to a state where I was wholly condemned in my mind, in only a matter of seconds. Taking it one step further, I envisioned my life being utterly miserable. No family, no children, no job. A social outcast. When you go that deep and dark in the blink of an eye it’s easy to lose focus and see no reason to live. My illogical thought process was, “If everything was going to be gone, why would I want to be here?”  Yup, that’s an admission and confession. It’s still hard to come to grips with. In more times than I can count between 2014 and now I saw no reason to live. If you’ve been there, or if you are there, you are not alone. Not even close.

Fortunately, I got help. For the first time in my life (or at least it felt like it) I asked for help. I sat in my physician’s office in tears. I was honest—brutally honest. I asked a few of my friends to meet with me so that we could talk. I explained my situation. I told my family. Each group had a different initial reaction, but the underlying message was the same. They were going to be “there” for me.

At the risk of offending those close to me I’ll admit that some people did not necessarily “get” it. They didn’t really understand depression. They didn’t understand anxiety. They certainly could not really understand why I would be depressed and have anxiety. I think each of them tried to find a “cause.”  “What’s the root cause, lets fix it and you’ll be better,” they thought.

Take note, if you’re asked to help someone in this state, don’t try and fix it. There is not a one-size, one pill, one counselor, one family meeting, one therapy session that will “fix” depression and anxiety. Not even close. Depression and anxiety do not act or have a life cycle that most people expect with diseases.  Most of the time we get sick, we feel crummy, we get some form of help or medication, and over time it gets better. A cold can be a few days, the flu a bit longer, and even cancer (yes this is a huge overgeneralization) often follows this expected cycle.

Depression and its symptoms come and go. You can feel great for a few days, weeks, or a month—even longer. I know I have great days, but I also have some very bad days. Those close to me are now better at understanding. But at first they didn’t really get it.

During this struggle I’ve heard it all. They tried to pinpoint exactly what was “wrong.”  They thought it could have been church and church should not be a place that makes you feel crummy. It was a logical thought since the day this all triggered followed a sermon. But the sermon was certainly not the cause. “Was I getting enough exercise? Are you eating healthy? Do you need to get some sunshine for a few days?” All of these things made sense to the speaker but would only act as a temporary bandage.

For me, it’s taken time. Far longer than I would like to admit. For long stretches of time I am able to manage my business and its employees. In the same vein, there have been dozens and dozens of times I’ve closed my door, fell against it, and started crying. In the not too distant past I thought about just walking across the street, grabbing a beer, and jumping off the overpass. I don’t know how that thought crossed my mind. It’s so unbelievably embarrassing to even write about…but it’s the truth. I had to tell my wife, counselor and family about it. I’m sure it rocked them each in different ways. However, they all stuck by me.

I’m not sure when I will be completely out of my dark days. Every so often I think this is the week. We have really turned a corner. Then you have a bad few hours and think it’s back to square one. Those close to me remind me that this isn’t so. This is particularly true of Ashley’s mom. She has been there. She calls me out of the blue sometimes and asks, “Ashton, how are you doing…how are you really doing?” I am brutally honest with her and normally choke my words out and she just listens. She continually says that what I am going through is normal and that I will be okay. She doesn’t try and fix it. I have told her some outlandish things and she doesn’t waver. She tells me that I am loved and that she is there for me. I’m not terribly sure why that helps so much, but it does. I feel less weird. I feel less like an outcast or someone that is different than everyone else who has it put together.

This is a high-level view of my depression. There are many little intricacies and stories that I could write about, but hopefully my point came through. Depression is dark. People can sway in and out of it. Just because someone is on medication does not mean that they are healed. Those facing depression or those caring for individuals with depression have a large task, but it’s worth it. I am here, I have a beautiful family and want to continue fight through it. I have never been closer to my wife. She and I have both cried more times than we can count. I have gone through phases of confessing every single bad thing that has ever happened in my life. She has heard countless illogical thoughts that I’ve had.  She certainly doesn’t like hearing it, but knows that by sitting there, by listening, and by telling me that she loves me, I stay balanced. She is utterly amazing. I don’t deserve her but I am so thankful for her.

 

ASHLEY

I remember everything about “that day.” I remember the date, time, what we were doing, what we were wearing, and the feeling after that phone call when it seemed like our life had turned upside down.

It was an evening in March, I was pregnant with our first child, sitting on the couch watching a show with Ashton while he ironed his shirt for work the next day. (No, I do not iron. Never have. Never will. Refer back up to the blog on fighting.) Ashton got a phone call from a family member that immediately started out in the wrong direction. I remember watching him talk to this person, panicking, not sure what to do or say, but trying to help, like he always does. He wanted to fix what was wrong right away. He got off the phone and went into “fix-it” mode. He made phone calls, sent emails, researched the problem…but this time it was different. He sat on the couch like a robot for the first fifteen minutes, and then it all seemed to hit. The tears started rolling down his cheeks, he started shaking, and then he fell into my arms. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I held him as he cried. I knew it was best to get him to bed so he could get some sleep and wake up thinking clearer and back to normal. When we crawled into bed I knew something wasn’t right. My husband had gone from an always put together, always strong, successful, caretaker, into a terrified, weeping, almost like a “scared child-like” state of mind. I had never seen him like this.

That night was the beginning of the hardest, darkest, scariest three years of our life. The words depression and anxiety were foreign to me. But they have become a way of life in our home. I would like to say that we are writing this post now having gone through it and we can reflect on the tough times we went through. But no, some days we are still in thick of it. We are still walking this path that God chose for us. Although this path has tested us and broken us somehow, God has used it to draw us closer to each other and to cling to Him tighter than ever.

Again, I knew little when it came to depression and anxiety. I didn’t know how it worked, what it did, and more importantly, how much it can consume someone. My mom had extreme postpartum depression so that was all I could relate to. I remember calling my parents one night while hiding in our closet saying something is not right with Ashton and I need you to pray. That phone call became a regular routine for me every couple days. I would call or text my family, sometimes only being able to choke the words out, please pray. My dad, having gone through it with my mom, would listen to me and give me any advice he could. Sometimes I would just cry on the phone with him, and other times I would ask for them to step in and help.

I remember one night in the beginning of this new battle in our life, being at my parent’s house with our home group. I was chatting with friends, almost pretending life wasn’t what it was. Ashton and I love our home group and it always seemed a “safe place” to be real with people. That night we hadn’t said anything about what was going on, because truthfully we didn’t know what was going on. After a while or so of mingling with friends I looked around for Ashton, just checking in on him to make sure he was okay. I didn’t see him and started to panic. One week earlier I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I would figure he went to the bathroom or ran to the car. But this time I knew something wasn’t right. I went room to room and couldn’t find him. After I scanned the whole first floor of the house I went to my parents and told them that I couldn’t find Ashton. Having known what was going on, they started to help me look. I ran downstairs and looked everywhere. Finally, I went to my dad’s office and found my husband in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t know what to do or say, but I just held him. That was the point in my life that it hit me. Things were not okay. We needed help. That was the first of many times I would find my husband in a fetal position terrified for his life.

From that point on I feel like our life has been sort of a fog. Ashton dove into counseling, got into the right doctors, and started meeting with people. He did everything and anything to get better. For a while I felt sort of motionless. It was a day by day, minute by minute way of living, and sometimes it still is. I struggle with days of sadness, confusion, and some days of just flat out bitterness. This was not what life was supposed to look like. Watching my husband go through something so painful and terrifying has left me on my face crying out to God, and sometimes feeling angry at God. There are have been many days that I thought we have come through it, and then we have one bad day and it feels like we’ve gone ten steps back. It’s almost like being in a long race, seeing the finish line, and then being placed right back at the beginning. Over and over again. It starts to wear on you.

A few things that I have learned while walking this path with my husband are:

Depression and anxiety come in all different forms, shapes and sizes. No matter what kind you have or how much it consumes you, it’s not something you should go through alone. I could never put into words how thankful I am for counseling. I truly believe it saved my husband’s life. I know for me personally that it gave me tools, advice, and therapy on how to walk this scary road with Ashton. There would be days that I would go and cry for an hour straight while the counselor just listened. There were days that I went with Ashton where I wanted to scream and throw something against the wall while the counselor sat and had a logical conversation with my husband about the difference the between suicide and suicidal thoughts. There were days where I walked in and said, “I’m drowning and I just want my husband back.” Through all of it the counselor would sit and listen, giving me strength, hope, and advice where needed. My strong advice? Seek help. Don’t wait.

 

OUR FINAL THOUGHTS

ASHLEY

Have the tough conversations. The counselor encouraged me to ask how Ashton was doing daily or weekly. For some reason this task was so tough for me. If it was a good day I didn’t want to ask, because I wanted to enjoy it. I didn’t want to know what he was struggling with. Whether it was depression, illogical thoughts, fears, or his anxieties. But it helped him for me to ask. I would brace myself every time I asked, knowing that that one happy moment or day could be gone when I knew of the battle my husband was fighting internally.

Know when to step away. There are days where I know I have to step away and let him battle whatever he is struggling with. So easily I want to tell him everything is okay, but unless he goes through it and works it out on his own, he will not fully get better. There are days when I have to call my mom or dad and ask them to call him so that he has someone to talk to when I feel like my tank is empty.

Never stop praying. If there is one thing I could take away from these three years of my life it would be to never stop praying. My heart aches for those who are going through this alone. I used to struggle with my faith, struggle with whether I thought God was real, and with the thought of our religion being the right one out of the thousands of different religions. But I know my God is real. And He has not just walked Ashton and I through this season in our life, but has picked us up and carried us the whole way. Although we have faced this struggle in our life I have seen Him at work in the darkest of times. He has given us a community that knows our battle and who rallies around us when times get tough. He has given us a church that we call home where people have become family, and not just friends. He has given us two beautiful daughters that we find such joy in even in the dark days. He has strengthened our marriage and brought us closer than I ever thought possible. He has opened up conversations with friends and family that have only strengthened relationships and not hurt them. And He has also strengthened our belief in Him, that we are His children and that He is our father. There is nothing that we will ever go through without Him on our side.

I remember our pastor saying a quote that has stuck with me over the years, “I thank God for every storm that has wrecked me on the rock of Jesus Christ.” Ashton and I have been wrecked, but we are planted firm in Christ.

ASHTON

Reach Out For Help. You are asked on a daily basis “How are you?” more than once. More than likely, that person actually cares how you are doing. Sure, there’s someone at the grocery store that a conversation about your state of mind may not be appropriate. But you would be surprised about how many times you have throughout the day to be brutally honest. For those I trusted most, they got, and still get, honesty. I have reached out to physicians, counselors, and family. I didn’t always get perfect advice or help, but my army has helped me more than you can imagine.

Don’t Stop Nagging. For those who want to help and don’t know how, just keep trying. Be annoying. In any given football game you see players helping one another up. A 150-lb kicker can stand above a 350-lb lineman, and with a little effort, can literally get them off the ground and back playing. Depression works the same way. You don’t have to be a counselor, have all the right answers, or know all that much about depression.

I have a now close friend that made it a point to get breakfast with me once a week. We didn’t know each other all that well back then but I trusted him. We would sit and he would just ask, “How are you?” He cared. He listened and sometimes said, “That sucks, I don’t know what to say other than that sucks.” He knew he couldn’t fix it. He would than ask another question and give his unwavering support. I say this not to just talk up this friend, but to explain that someone I didn’t know on a personal level all that well at the time stepped in with no questions asked and helped. You can be that person. Continually nag those in need. It isn’t likely they will reach out on a regular basis, and you never know, a simple phone call can make a huge difference.