One's Truest Freedom - Breaking the Chains of our Past, Creation of the New Story - SYNCRO-BLOG

This post is a part of a "Syncro-Blog" which is one-topic, multiple perspectives on it by a couple/few different bloggers.  You can find links to these other perspectives at the bottom of this post.  I also invite you to post your thoughts, comments and ideas (if you're so inclined) when you're done reading this (if you make it to the end)...

Photo by Gareth Mackay

"You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, but you don't dwell on it. You don't let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space."
-Johnny Cash


My life is the way it is today because I've broken free of the constraints that my past history used to impose on me.  Let me back that out a moment: I am ALIVE today because I broke free of my past.

In another time (now over a decade ago) my life was a life lived in fear of people knowing my past, judging and maybe even condemning me for it. In a world quick to label and categorize (in an attempt to understand something), many are also quick to write off and give up on something (or someone).

Mary (my baby sis), Sarah (my big sis) and yours truly...

I was 11 or 12 when the proverbial $#!^ hit the fan in my happy childhood.  Up to maybe the age of 10 or so, my family unit was not only intact, but I enjoyed the carefree upper-middle-class living of suburbia.  I had (and still have) two amazing sisters book-ending me, and my parents were both physically healthy and emotionally happy people.  We lived in the 5-bedroom home in a nice neighborhood.  We all played sports (which were supported by, coached and attended by both our parents).  We had a couple dogs.  Sandbox and backyard, check.  Beautiful parks to run, play and explore all close and well maintained, check. It was a little too good to be true.  Without going into now unimportant details of the demise of my family, my parents divorced after a couple ugly years of bickering, fighting, and the loss of love/respect for each other.

 

My parents' divorce hit me like a ton of bricks.  My enthusiasm for school fizzled (I was at one point achieving high marks).  I withdrew.  I became depressed and finally, after one big ugly fight with my baby sis, I was cornered into a "new" family discussion with my mom and her then boyfriend/fiancee. I was stubborn then, too, and I left the discussion by running to a nearby creek to think and blow off steam.  I came home to a squad car in the driveway and a police officer intent on bullying me into 'parental submission.'  I wouldn't cave (this stubbornness has gone on to serve me well racing 100-mile mountain runs), but I had no respite to escape to this time, so I locked myself in the bathroom.  The situation escalated quickly.  I made one threat to get the cop to leave and they deemed it "suicidal tendencies" and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital, facing two of the most condescending psychologists/therapists I've ever had experience with. Again, too stubborn for my own good, I wouldn't cooperate with their attempts to manipulate me into conversation. After a cryptic exchange with my mom, I had the intuitive realization that I was in lock-down and made a break for it.  The 40-meter hall seemed longer than a mile.  My mom walked out the double doors as they closed (and latched) at the very moment I got to them.  I was shattered. LOCKED IN and abandoned. My world went from the perfect little childhood to unimaginable emotional pain. This event sealed the deal. I could tell you more about the therapy, the group sessions, watching the failed escape attempts of others, but you've all seen enough reality TV and good psychological thriller films to have a fair idea of what happens in these places. I have come to firmly believe that they aren't places for people to "get well" but rather, a place to house, catalog and care for those who are beyond sick. The quicker you can adapt and get out, the better chance you have to make it (statistically speaking). I got out in about 3-weeks.  I was only 12. The next youngest patients were 16 and 17. From that point forward, I possessed a heightened consciousness. Something developed to protect me from that type of hurt and betrayal. I was connected and detached at the same time. I became an old soul (as some have gone on to describe it). Time moved forward...

Oh boy... this is awkward.

Junior High is a tough place. You have all these girls going from awkward children to the middle phase. They suddenly have boobs and hips, they've shot up generally as tall as they're going to get (prior to boys doing the same) and they're chalk full of hormones.  Adolescent boys have it NO easier. Most are short and gawky, half of us had braces and we suddenly want to have a girlfriend (for acceptance/love and other things our bodies are chemically driving us towards).  It's hard enough to go from childhood to adulthood in that middle cocoon phase.  I was now different. Yeah, Margaret Mead said it best, "Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else."  But middle school and high school become more about fitting in and learning to be likable based on our deep-seated fear of rejection and being alone/abandoned.  I had two things pulling me apart now: the fear of (repeated) rejection/abandonment and the need to protect myself from even being at risk of that.  This is where I believe my over-the-top personality blossomed.

Friends from elementary school gave me the ever so charming nickname of "psycho-friend" and they even had a song they sang to go along with it. I was the only person I knew (aside from the people I was in the institution with) that had been labeled depressed and/or mentally ill. I knew I would be looked at as different from there forward. So a part of me (as a 12-13 year old) literally made up this idea, "fine, if I'm gonna be different, then I'll be really, intentionally different!"  They called me crazy! So I became the crazy kid who'd accept ANY dare. You name it.  I was a prime cut Fear Factor participant and Jackass daredevil before those shows had even been a pitched idea (I was in middle school in 1989-1990, Jackass started in 2000 & Fear Factor in 2001). I'd eat weird stuff on dares (apparently I haven't grown out of this, yet), jump off of cliffs/houses/boats into water far below, even go streaking in various places (again, haven't matured beyond these behaviors, yet).  But as I moved from middle to high school, went to summer camps, and would meet new people I'd be terrified that they'd "find me out" and not want to be around me anymore. It was a constant and all consuming fear.

Facing one of my biggest fears: the BADWATER 135

Fear will always be a part of our lives. In many ways, it can actually be positive and healthy. But there are times and areas that fear crosses over the line and becomes something counter-productive to living the lives we dream of living.  For some of you kids old enough to remember the film Dune (or the amazing book that preceded it), the Bene Gesserit (an exclusive sisterhood who trained their bodies and minds through years of physical and mental conditioning) had a mantra:

"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."

I lost a bet. OR did I???

Now, I'm not a part of this sisterhood. I do, however, happen to have a pretty powerful relationship to my fear.  I am still afraid of so much (people mistake me for being fearless, whereas I know myself to be full of fear but I act in the face of that fear).  Freedom from fear (in one's life) doesn't mean fear-FREE, but rather, developing an acute inner dialog around fear and choosing which fear to hold on to and which fear to permit to "pass over [you] and through [you]."  This, my friends, is called being courageous.  Courage is roughly defined as the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc. without fear (defining what you do / act upon).  Courage is a practice, not a genetic predisposition. Many times we relate to people as they either are (born) courageous beings or they are (always) cowards. Think of courage like you do fitness. If you work the muscles consistently and patiently, you become stronger. If you face some small fears and over-come them, you'll consistently be able to face bigger and more deep-seated fears. Eventually, you'll tackle the doozy in your life.  The biggest skeleton in your closet. Then you will be fully experiencing (think of Braveheart screaming here)... FREEDOM!!!!

Somewhere in my adult life, early to mid-20's, I realized I was living someone else's life.  I wasn't happy.  I was afraid to live, afraid to step out into the unknown and chase down my dreams.  I realized I didn't share with many who I truly wanted to be, I hid from my past (institutionalization) and had things I had wanted to do for 5 or more years that I had taken NO actions towards.  Here's an interesting list for you:

*I wanted to move to Los Angeles from Northern California (the San Francisco Bay Area), and had talked about it for over 5 years.
*I wanted to run a marathon (my first, as my longest race distance prior had been the 12k SF Bay to Breakers).
*I wanted to be in a relationship with the girl of my dreams (I had been in 3 or 4 relationships longer than 1 year, and one was 4+ years in two different pieces).

1st hundo - "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

In hindsight, I had NO idea what I was getting myself into. I had purchased many self-help books. I reached out to many friends who had taken bold steps towards their dreams.  My then ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend Mike was a key turning point.  He was enrolled in a course called... wait for it... "the Wisdom Course" put on by Landmark Education.  Mike was one of the wisest dudes I had met (especially considering we were both in our 20's at the time), and he's since gone on to become a very successful, sought after motivational and keynote speaker, as well as a successful author.  After a chat over a beer with Mike, I enrolled in a course called the Landmark Forum and discovered a lot about my fear.

Now you know why I love ZOOLANDER so much?

In my early-to-mid-20's transition, I challenged myself to face my fear on every possible level. It started with owning my past. I can't EVER change that I've been in lock-down psychiatric care (nor can I change that I was a "male-model" *doing best BLUE STEEL impression now*). But I hide from it no longer.  I still have tendencies that at times throw me into a depressive funk.  I now know how (and when) to reach out for help (although even now it's still HARD to reach out for that help).  It's been 24-years (two-thirds of my lifetime) since I was in lock-down.  It's been nearly 5 years since my last therapy session (I've gone to individual and couple's therapy on-and-off for some 20-years).  I talk openly and honestly about my past mistakes, the things I used to be ashamed of.  An interesting thing has opened up too... the things I used to fear judgment on, I now INVITE judgment.  Sharing my history has become a way to weed out people I don't see as "high quality" individuals who will push and challenge me to be better.  Those that are quick to judge/condemn remove themselves rather swiftly from my life. They're doing me a favor!  The people that have stuck around are the most forgiving, open, kind and compassionate people I've ever known.  I can learn from their love, friendship and generosity.

Trusting the universe (and this elephant) fully.

I have become who I am today (and I continue to work to evolve towards being a little bit better every day) based on those whom I have surrounded myself with.  We are, ultimately, a product of our immediate environment and YOU get to choose who to spend time with, who you invest love/attention in, and who's ideas and philosophies you'll embrace and perpetuate.  YOU get to choose.  In communicating my story (yes, many of you have been the victim's of me over-talking and over-communicating my stories), I have been freed of fear's shackled existence. I'm running free now and I am able to extend my hand to invite those I love to be free with me. Experience the joy on the other side of fear. It starts with jumping off the cliff, while the water may be cold at first, the time in the air and rush of cold water (and adrenaline) is exhilarating and liberating.  It starts with the simple act of loving and owning your own unique story...

"It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare. It is because we do not dare that they are difficult."
-Seneca


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Post a COMMENT if you enjoyed this blog (and I also invite you to post your thoughts if you offer any alternative viewpoints too)!

Found below are some other people I adore and their unique perspectives on this topic:
*Katie DeSplinter's Brain Used To Hate Her
*Nathan Coury's Heart On His Sleeve
*Ashley Walsh's Why You Front'n?

 

Running Through the Darkness - Exercise and it's Effect on Depression

I'm going to attempt to make this short and sweet (post blog note... NOPE, I didn't).  Although y'all know that nothing I do/say is short, I run forever and the only thing that moves more than my legs is my mouth. Those who call me a "blow-hard" in reference to my constant jabbering have some merit to their argument, I get sick of hearing my own voice sometimes.  All that said, I have a deep commitment to make a difference in the lives of others around me.  I have many restless nights devising ways to help others live happier, healthier lives. I hate sleep, in that it takes me away from what I most crave, "to make a difference, small or large, in the well being of my friends and family" and you should know that I consider my friends, family, and most complete strangers, friends.  Already, I'm talking too much and NOT about what's important:

MY 4 LIFE BOUTS WITH DEPRESSION

I invite you to read that line above, again.  It's ALL CAPS and IN BOLD PRINT, for emphasis.  A great many of you know this about me already, but to the many of you that are newer to my life, or don't know me as well/deeply as you may have thought, I have had a few battles with depression (a couple of them serious).  There were 4 rounds of these spells of darkness, and while I'm not going to dig fully into the muddiness of all 4 of them, I will say they each involved unwelcome transitions.

*Age 12 - my parents' divorce
*Age 19/20 - walking away from a degree/education/college to a steady paying career
*Age 22/23 - after a messy breakup with my girlfriend of 2.5 years whom I then lived with
*Age 26 - a running injury post-1st-marathon (quadriceps tendinitis, brought on by overuse and over-enthusiasm) that took me out of running for a solid 10 months



ROUND 1 - AGE 12 (1989) *WARNING - graphically described and disturbing content*

This was by far the most intense, dramatic event of my 35 years of life (to date).  My parents divorced (after a couple/few years of in-home conflict and ugly fights), and the demise of our family unit led to much inner turmoil. I stopped caring about school work and my grades. Many kids have a rough transition from childhood to adolescence anyway, I felt like I was fast-tracked. My thoughts were dark. I withdrew. Initially, I lived with my mom & baby sis (Mary) and saw my dad once every couple of weekends, some months once a week for dinner too. After a notable fight with my sister and then a blowout with my mom & her boyfriend, I took off to hang out at a nearby creek and returned home to a squad car sitting outside my house. I walked in to see a cop sitting at our dining room table who then instructed me to sit down at the table and talk to my mom. Not wanting to be threatened or intimidated, I declined and walked to the bathroom where I locked the door.  Things escalated. Through the door, the cop threatened me, I threatened right back.  They took my words (in defense) very seriously. The next thing I knew I was in a psychiatric institution: GLADMAN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL in Oakland, the adolescent lock down ward. I pray that none of you ever experiences what I experienced there. I was a caged animal. Escape attempts were treated like jail breaks. Watching a human being struggle for some semblance of freedom be tackled by 5-6 hospital workers, security guards, then be strapped into a straight jacket onto a gurney, only to be sedated by syringe then carted into "the quiet room" is a visual that haunts me (albeit infrequently) to this very day. I learned quickly the rules of this new life.  I missed my last 2 weeks of elementary school.  I was told by doctors I would spend the whole Summer there.  At 12, I was 3-5 years everyone else's junior (at that age, a huge gap).  Many of the 15-17 year old patients were recovering drug addicts, OR people who had either tried to kill themselves or harm others.  I quickly adapted.  Before I knew it, I was fully participating in all hospital groups and activities.  I was released about 3-weeks later and went through "psycho therapy" for the better part of the next 6-years.  I was never medicated. From that point forward, I felt like I possessed an adult consciousness and awareness of all things surrounding me.  I transcended much of the social pettiness of junior high and high school, becoming an astute observer of human behavior and interaction.  I even found myself at times spending the social times alone, eating lunch up against a tree by myself, just watching life happen around me. To this day, when something bad happens, I often think to myself, "well, I'm not in lock down right now, so this can't be THAT bad."

ROUND 2 - AGE 19/20 (1996-1997)
Not much to say here other than: gave up on college, had an opportunity to make good money working for my dad's business partner full time, in sales. While I did succeed in sales (calling, talking to people, and selling them something they needed), there was always something missing. I won't say I regret leaving school, I learned many lessons about life working those 6 & 1/2 years from 1995-2001, but I knew it was time to leave by 1999/2000.

ROUND 3 - AGE 22/23 (1999-2000)
It was suggested to me in my now adult battles with depression that I be medicated. I refused. I remember hearing my doctor say things like, "well, we could give this drug a shot or maybe try that drug" and I'd ask about side effects and many of his responses frightened me more than being depressed. It all seemed like guess work, and I didn't want to grow dependent on some magic pill to solve my problems.  I bought a bunch of self-help and relationship books.  I signed up for self-actualization seminars.  One seminar I took (the Landmark Forum) lead to me getting back into running, something I had set aside for a few years. I cut a lot of the unnecessary things out of my life.  Got back to essentials. Got back to chasing silly dreams. Running became a few times a week activity again. I got the crazy idea to train for a marathon. I failed, over and over again.  Started training for my 1st marathon in January of 2000. FAILED to train for more than 1-month.  Started training for the 2nd time for my 1st marathon in January of 2001 (gotta LOVE New Year's Resolutions, which I no longer make), FAILED to stay healthy, injuring my IT band so badly that I couldn't run for 4 months.  Went and completed 26.2 miles in JUNE of 2001 anyway, but broke the distance up into 2 half marathons, one Saturday and one Sunday, a part of the Suzuki San Diego Rock'n'Roll Marathon, which I had registered for that January.  There was hope but more importantly, now there was determination.  This determination has stayed with me in the years since.

ROUND 4 - AGE 26 (2002-2003)

I finally ran my 1st marathon after my 4th attempt to train for one, completing the 2002 Chicago Marathon 1 day prior to my 26th birthday. I missed my goal of qualifying for the BOSTON MARATHON by 12-seconds.  3:11:11.  I resolved to reload and run my 2nd marathon less than 2-months later at the California International Marathon in Sacramento.  I never backed off my training and 3 short weeks after Chicago, I had developed a severe overuse injury, quadriceps tendinitis. This subtly stabbing pain in the top of my knee didn't heal for 10 months.  Fear turned to despair. I again withdrew.  At the time I dove into the world of videogames, often logging 50+ hours a week, and in a rather pathetic irony, I was commissioner of a videogame football league (Madden NFL Football 2003), organizing 30-guys from around the country to play their league games every few days. I couldn't be an athlete, but I could virtually manipulate one. I wasn't a good sport. I was so angry/frustrated/depressed about not being able to run, sometimes I'd lose a game and turn into the Incredible Hulk and smash controllers, keyboards and headsets into pieces.  It was the first time my then girlfriend Kate had seen this side of me. I'm still not sure how it didn't scare her away for good. After 10-months of this dark cloud, one day in August 2003, I accepted Kate's invitation to go for a jog around the park near our house. 30-min later, feeling healthy again and empowered, I vowed to never allow myself to be THAT injured through ill-timed, impatient over-use again.

ROUND 5 - TBD

I have often said that RUNNING saved my life. I do mean that quite literally.  There is something emotionally and psychologically cathartic about sweating out stress chemicals, and having them replaced with healthy self-produced chemicals. I now avoid depression with EASE (Electrolytes, Adrenaline, Serotonin, Endorphins). I am dependent upon no FDA approved mind-altering drugs. I'd like to believe I'm a member of our society that helps offer reasonable solutions, not one who contributes to the underlying problems. I have grown a healthy distrust of Western medicine (based on my personal experiences with it) and an even greater distrust of Western media (for continual fear mongering and perpetuation of beauty myths).  I'm not saying "all doctors are bad" nor am I implying "all media perpetuates the beauty myth and fear mongers" but what we think to ourselves becomes our words.  What we say becomes what we do.  What we do defines our life.  I've gone to the root of my depression: negative thoughts often stemming from deep fears related to unfulfilled expectations. This negativity and fear leads to paralyzation (of both thought and action).

No, running isn't for everyone (I wish it was, we'd likely have a clearer thinking society). Using exercise to help your mental state takes a calculated form of patience, or one's enthusiasm will cause that same individual's next bout with depression (as in my Round 4, stated above). At the end of the day, we are capable of anything: most importantly we are all capable of elevating our own well being.  I don't ignore the little things anymore, and doing the little things consistently has lead me to run more consistently.  I'm not the first to say this, and I certainly won't be the last... "Running is my Prozac" which is to say movement is one of the most vital healthy mood inducing things that we need every single day. Sweat is a key to unlocking one's bliss.

Now get out of your seat, step away from the computer and get out there and RUN, dance, hike, play and move! If you view your life as a runner views a 100-miler, you know there will be hard miles, good miles, ugly miles and miles of beauty, what counts is relentless forward movement. Just do it.