Mental Health isn’t for men
I AM NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL AND THE FOLLOWING IS BASED SOLEY ON MY OWN EXPERIENCE. IF YOU EVER FIND YOURSELF FEELING OFF IN ANY WAY, CONTACT A LOVED ONE OR HEALTH PROFESSIONAL IMMEDIATLEY. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES
I’d say that I grew up in a pretty traditional home. I was a growing boy, taught to chop wood, clean the barn, toss hay and fix just about everything. This isn’t to say that I wasn’t taught how to cook, do my laundry and sew a ripped pair of jeans, but I was brought up as a farm boy through the 90’s. As a country boy, I figured my discomfort in social settings had to do with my lack of exposure to the size of venues you more typically encounter in the hustle-hard city. In hindsight, it all makes sense.
I managed to make it most of the way through my 20’s, living life, working in the city, going to shows, and generally just experiencing life the way many 20-somethings tend to do. Whenever I would feel uneasy in a situation, I would overcompensate with bravado and bury the sensation of panic deep down. You see, I was of the belief that those who suffered mental illness were 95% full of it. How can you let your brain get the better of you? I’m the one thinking and I can decide to simply think positive thoughts. I can overpower my brain anytime I want! Or can I?
It was June of 2017 when I loaded up my camera and headed to Montreal with two members of my family to snap pics at the “Cars and Coffee” event. I loved these events because I was in my element. Exotic cars revving and launching, photo opportunities aplenty, and, well, coffee. As with every time before, we arrived about an hour into the event and started making our tour of the lot, checking out the vehicles that people had on display. The music was cranked and everyone one was feeling the vibe of a sunny Spring afternoon.
Were they though?
I knew after about 10 minutes of being there that something was off. I felt uneasy. The best way I can describe it is like a stomach butterfly. I continued on, taking in the event and sipping my beverage. Walking in the giant open doors was a life changing experience for me. Everything I once believed about masculinity was about to be challenged in a big way.
The showroom seemed to be darker than I would have thought. It was burning hot in there and people were talking much louder than you’d think appropriate. I sort of strolled off and let the other two browse and snap pictures as I hugged the outskirts and kept to myself. I was starting to feel odd. I was feeling a tad dizzy and now it wasn’t hot, I was catching a chill. I went over to the other two and casually directed us outside. The sun was still shining and the smell of BBQ lingered as a young man was getting into a supercar for the ride of a lifetime. This young man is the last thing I remember of the event itself.
What’s happening to me?
My heart began racing and the chills spiked; I was frigid. My left arm had been feeling a little heavy and suddenly my whole shoulder and chest were feeling numb. As if that wasn’t enough the tunnel vision set in. In a panic, I told the other two, “We have to go. I really don’t feel well”. They rolled their eyes but followed me to the car. We had only been there for about 25 minutes and I was pulling the plug on a promising afternoon. They had no idea what was really going on. The truth is that I didn’t know either; I was scared.
As we approached the car, I asked if anyone else could drive. they were both so annoyed with me that they wanted nothing to do with it. So, against all logic, I got into the drivers seat. We had an hour drive to get home and my face began numbing up after about 5 minutes of the city traffic. I felt my pulse so many times on that drive, trying to tell myself that it wasn’t my heart, but imagining the worst.
Believe it or not, we arrived home and I went into the bedroom, still feeling like I was having a heart attack. Finally, I said I needed to go to the hospital. It’s at this moment that they realized that I wasn’t just joking or trying to ruin the good time; this was serious. I was driven to the emergency room where they put me through quickly and hooked me up to an electrocardiograph machine, checked my blood pressure, asked me a ton of questions and took a blood sample. I was sent back out to wait for my fate.
I don’t know how long I waited for them to call my name. I know that I heard a lot of apologies for not believing that something was wrong, but how could they have known? When my name was called, I walked into the room and sat on the bed. The doctor flipped through the papers, as they always do, then turned and said, “Well, your heart is strong.”.
How could my heart be strong after what I had just experienced? He suggested that what had happened was a heavy panic attack. He told me that I had probably been experiencing them for years and managing them, but this one just got the best of me. I was relieved to hear that my heart was alright, but now my brain was apparently a mess. What is a panic attack? How does it work? What triggers it? So many questions festered to the forefront of my mind and gave me a focal point; I was going to beat this.
Going to battle with my brain
The doctor had suggested I speak to a psychiatrist. It took a lot for me to book that appointment, but I never wanted to feel like I did that day in Montreal, ever again. While I waited for the appointment date, I got to work on myself. I studied relentlessly on how the brain functions and manages stress, how to recognize a rising panic attack before it takes over, and any other tangent I was thrown on. I figured I couldn’t beat something that I didn’t understand. I knew my trigger seemed to be public venues. So, I tossed myself into as many events as I could. Let me tell you that it was extremely difficult at first. Let me also tell you that once you know the feeling you are getting isn’t death, it’s a lot less scary, though it still sucks.
I walked into my psychiatrist appointment anxious and reserved. After all, I grew up wrestling cattle and shooting shotguns in the backwoods. Admitting I was suffering with anxiety and panic attacks made me feel weak; like I was a loser. The appointment went well. She asked me an endless stream of questions and examined my answers. She did her best to try and get me to open up, but that wasn’t happening. Finally, she told me how to begin working on the long road to coping with this mental condition. To her surprise, I had already gone through what she suggested I work up to in my first year. I had done my literature and launched back into the one thing most would have avoided. I felt the first moment of pride in this whole ordeal.
The harsh reality
Still to this day, I have moments that I struggle with; times that are more difficult to overcome. As I’m sitting at my laptop writing this, I’m feeling a rush of memories that have triggered a slight tingle in my face. I know what it is now and I know I’ll be just fine.
Mental health is a topic that affects everyone equally. It’s a serious and very scary thing to go through, no matter how you view yourself, what gender you are, or your social status. I’ve seen a lot more awareness about men struggling in silence due to the long-outdated stigma that we shouldn’t feel a certain way. Let me tell you, you have no control over feeling this way. We live in an ever-demanding world of consumption and overexposure. If you ever feel like your brain is playing tricks on you, or your backed into a corner, tell someone. It’s going to be scary and it might hurt your ego, but the biggest battle you can win, is pulling through this safe and sane. If a shit-kicking country boy from the hills can sit here and tell the story of his weakest moment, you can tell that one person close to you that something is off. Asking for help isn’t weak, but hiding from help will weaken you until you find yourself scared and alone in a parking lot full of people.
Please share your story in the comments and let’s help the ones suffering in silence. Talking to a few close friends was the best feeling in the world.
-Canadian James