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1.3.22 | Napa, CA
1.3.22 | Napa, CA
2020 was a rough year for me, personally. There's no other way to say it. Much of what I'm about to share is unknown to most, including family and my closest friends. However, I feel it's important to speak up about what I've been going through, not only for my recovery (and because I'm exhausted from hiding it) but for others to know they're not going through it alone.
I experienced a mental health crisis this year. An event so dark and intense that it put me in the hospital and nearly kept me there for my safety for an extended period of time. And, to be clear, nobody else was in any danger here - just me. I had hit absolute rock-bottom with my ongoing anxiety and depression to the point that I had increasing thoughts of no longer wanting to live.
Not many people know my past, but to keep it short for the sake of focusing on what's important here - I had a rough childhood. And as many doctors have explained to me over the years, those events have re-wired the way my brain works, and thus, how I handle things like stress and anxieties. I try not to live in the past and therefore don't blame anyone for what I went through. After all, if any one of those events had never occurred, I wouldn't be here today with the love of my life and two beautiful little girls. Therefore, I do my best to accept the past and figure out the best possible way to move forward and do better with the cards I've been dealt over the years, good or bad.
There are two things in life that I have always struggled with; one: my ability to bottle up intense emotions for long periods with no way of relief other than explosion. And two: my inability to ask for help. Two things that, when combined, have proven to be catastrophic. That all came to a head shortly before Easter this year with a series of events that drove me deep into a depressive state, spurring uncontrollable physical panic attacks and days spent lying in bed demanding to be alone. I honestly don't know that I would still be here if it weren't for Chelsea's undying love, support, and research, leading me to finally get out of bed and taking me to Kaiser's Psychiatry & Behavioral Health center in Oakland. After meeting with several doctors and specialists over countless hours of appointments and virtual sessions, I would finally be diagnosed with a range of issues that needed immediate attention. The care received through Kaiser was top-notch as I spent the next four weeks recovering through an intensive outpatient program, spending four to five hours a day in group and individual therapy sessions five days a week. This was when I made the incredibly tough, and in hindsight, rash, decision to leave a job and a team (that was very supportive throughout this process) that I had loved very much. At the time, it seemed like the only solution to ease the stresses of a high-paced work environment and give my body the rest it needed from the non-stop anxieties that I was manifesting. I was scared and convinced that sharing what I was going through would ruin my ability to hold a career in marketing leadership.
After weeks of daily therapy and support, the intensive program was over, and I was left (like many are) to my own devices with my next appointment dated TWO MONTHS out. Yep. Two months. Combine a lack of resources across the board for mental health with the rise in demand thanks to a global pandemic, and you're lucky to (virtually) see your doctor every couple of months for a speedy one-hour session. Sure, they were willing to help with prescribed medications, but after a quick trial of meds that turned me into a vegetable for a weekend, that was the end of that for me. No, thank you.
After taking a few months away from full-time work, I kept myself busy (and paid) thanks to one-off marketing projects that found their way to me. It was relaxed, flexible on my time, and offered a great deal of personal satisfaction to help out businesses across different industries. During this time, I was asked if I had any interest in returning to a brand that I loved and had so much unfinished business to complete. Initially, I turned the job down, but I accepted the position after some convincing.
Only a few weeks into this new job, my Nana (Mom's mom) tested positive with COVID-19. After a short time in the hospital, she eventually succumbed to the complications. We said our goodbyes dressed in medical-grade PPE behind multiple layers of doors and glass on the COVID floor of the hospital. Up until this point, I had experienced very little immediate family death as I was fortunate to have all of my grandparents alive and well. To put it lightly, it rocked me.
Then, only a few weeks later, Chelsea's grandmother, Gerane, also tested positive for COVID and would also pass away from the complications. This one, however, hit me a little differently. My Nana was a strong woman of faith and most certainly seemed at peace when it was her time to go. There was an odd air of strength with her passing, almost as if it were on her terms and therefore ok. Grandma Gerane, however, was still full of life and, at one point, even told the girls from the hospital bed that she was "still fighting." She wasn't ready, and she was scared, which internally wrecked my emotions. It forced all of my anxieties related to death to bubble right back to the surface and stared me right in the face with nowhere else to look.
During all of this, I was still trying to find my footing with this new job, which was proving to be complicated. In rugby terms: I was taking the ball full-speed into tackles with zero support - hitting brick walls with nobody to clear the rucks. I lost the ball every time I had possession. Add in the nearly two hours of commuting each day plus the costs that come with working up valley, and I was falling back into an anxious, depressive state, doubting if I had made the right decision to come back.
There came the point when I realized that this much change was the complete opposite of what I actually needed. I was (and still am) recovering from a traumatic spring, with wounds repeatedly reopened over the summer and into the fall months. Even the end of daylight savings this year brought on a level of seasonal depression I hadn't expected.
After months of trying to fit a round peg into a square hole, my second term at Chateau Montelena has come to an end, and I'll be starting 2022 self-employed, taking on select marketing and brand projects in between work for the Napa Photo Booth Co.
To be fair, 2021 had its fair share of highlights that shouldn't go overlooked. The photo booth business is doing GREAT, and we've been working with (and continue booking) the type of brands we've always envisioned working with. The girls are doing great, and Delaney is adjusting well to middle school. (she made honor roll!) We also met many new friends this year, thanks to an exceptional (and near-perfect) softball season in the spring. Chelsea and I vacationed without the kids (not without its drama!), we bought a pop-up camper, and we've planned a few fun trips heading into the new year. I made money as a professional photographer, which was cool, and sang my heart out at a handful of incredible concerts. Hockey returned, and we successfully navigated our first year of homeownership and upgrades. Plenty of good memories, and certainly things to celebrate.
Most notably is the ever-growing relationship with my wife and kids. They saw me at my best in 2021, and they certainly saw me at my worst, but they NEVER left my side. They were there through it all and with nothing but absolute love and support every step along the way. My wife is my literal rock, and as I mentioned before, I don't know that I would be here without her.
2021 was a shit year. But like I said, I do my best to accept the past and figure out the best ways to move forward. There are plenty of lessons to be learned from 2021, and we have a lot to look forward to in 2022. Hopefully, we'll continue to hear the stories of those struggling with mental health and make real progress towards normalizing the conversations that need to happen to understand better what people are going through and dedicate more resources to it.
If you or somebody you know is going through a hard time, don't be afraid to reach out to someone you trust for support. If it's an emergency and you need immediate assistance, help is available. Visit your local ER, or contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255.
Here's to happiness and health in 2022.
TJT