I left my corporate job earlier this month.  I had been employed at the same place for 17 years, which is a not-insignificant portion of my life.  In the culture here, it is difficult to not be defined by what you do, rather than who you are... and that is true of how others see us as well as how we might see ourselves.  For the first few days after leaving employment, I struggled a bit to determine what exactly I am supposed to do with myself now.

I've written about my struggles with anxiety and depression before. It's not like I'm hiding it, and it's an ongoing fight, and the corporate job was not contributing to my healing, so I figured that the best choice for my health at the moment was to step away.  There is some irony that health is a concern here, since not being employed by a corporation means I am losing my health insurance.  (For my friends who do not live in the United States, one's health care in this country is often tied to one's employment.)  

There was some fantastic life experiences over those 17 years.  Quite a bit of travel was involved for awhile, and my job took me to Mexico, El Salvador, England a few times, India many times, Sri Lanka many times, China, Hong Kong, and Sweden. How horizon-broadening it was to experience so many different cities, cultures, and cuisines!  I was able to interact with colleagues from all over the United States and from all over the world. Long after the memories of the stress and the bitter times fade, I'll keep pleasant memories of lovely people. I thought I might share just a couple of those here.

That's me with the team I was sent to train on my first ever trip to Sri Lanka.  It's a beautiful island, with lovely beaches (if that's your thing), urban hustle and bustle (if that's your thing), dense jungle (if that's your thing), and great food.

Here are some of the folks who were in El Salvador while I was there.  

 

This is what a day of training would look like in Bangalore.

Ok, onward.  What's next?  Is that what you're wondering?

Well, that's what I'm wondering as well.  For the moment, I'm going to keep taking my medication and try to find a therapist with whom I am comfortable.  It might be some time before I'm ready to get back into corporate work.  

I'm still writing songs.  As I've written before, songwriting is cathartic for me. I also have a few recording projects in various stages of completion.  If you'd like to support me, my online store is here, I have a page over on Ko-Fi (even though I don't exactly know how it works yet), and of course, my music is on whatever tool you use to stream music.  

Got a gun, fact I got two
That's ok man, 'cause I love God
Glorified version of a pellet gun
Feels so manly when armed

Double think, dumb is strength
Never shot at a living thing
Glorified version of a pellet gun
Feels so manly when armed

***

This post isn't 100% an excuse to post a fantastic Pearl Jam song, but I couldn't resist the opportunity.

This past week, I go visit the optometrist.  This is the first time I had actually set foot outside of my home in several weeks.  It's dangerous out there, what with a killer virus and killer human beings running around, you know?  I am at the counter settling up, and preparing to leave - masked of course - and a gentleman approaches with a gun in a holster on his hip.

I live in Ohio.  The law in Ohio says that it is perfectly ok to carry a gun that you legally possess openly in public.  I know this.  This knowledge does not prevent me from feeling anxious and glancing around for all of the available exits.  How do I know that this person will not draw the weapon and start shooting at every moving thing he sees?  I don't have any way to know that.  

I don't want to stare at this person.  He is on the phone just outside of the doors.  (Due to safe distancing practices, they do not open the doors unless you are a customer, you have an appointment, and you have called to tell them you have arrived.)  The doors are not opening, so he is not yet on the phone with the establishment.  I take a second glance at his direction, and right next to his gun - on his belt - I notice an oval badge, golden in color, inset in blue.  This appears to be a law enforcement officer.  He isn't in uniform.  Neither one of these facts make me feel any more safe.  Law enforcement officers in my home state of Ohio have a well documented tradition of killing people who look like me without any valid reason to do so.

Eventually, he is granted entry to the office, and heads over to the waiting area behind me to have a seat.  I try to stay calm.  I keep my hands out of my pockets, you know, just in case he gets ideas.  I do not turn behind me to look at him.  I silently urge the very nice employee in front of me to finish with the paperwork so I can exit as quickly as possible.

You know how this ends.  Nothing happened.  I went about my day.  It would appear that the only effect is to my mental health and general sense of well-being.  

Here are the lyrics:

Baby can you find my earplugs
They keep the city sounds away
I need to take a syrup shot, it's all I've got
To finally find a quiet place

Go to sleep

Baby can you see the monsters
Their chatter keeps me up all night
This one lost a job and that one had a kid
At least we're getting on all right

Go to sleep

Why can't I ever feel this good?
What's it like to be understood?
Who are we and where is peace?
And how mortality?
When do I go to sleep?

I don't know where I am
Halfway between cold and home
I need to take a syrup shot, it's all I've got
To finally find a quiet place

Go to sleep

***

It was my honor to be the first guest on the brand new songwriting podcast, DUET OR DON'T.  Tune in, and listen to Baby Molly and me write our way through this song.

Normally I schedule my blog post topics a few weeks out, and even write them as far in advance as I can... but that didn't work out recently.  My mental health issues - which I have written about before - are giving me quite the pummeling recently, and my ability to be focused and remotely organized is suffering.  Here are some current random thoughts.

•  I'm watching baseball tonight.  My favorite baseball team is in the National League Championship Series for the first time in a long time.  The last time they actually won a World Series was my senior year of high school.  Yes, I'm that old.  The responsibility for my love of just about every single possible sport belongs squarely to my late father, though, with the exception of Ohio State, I was never a fan of his favorite teams.  (This is a good thing, because he was a lifelong Browns fan, and that's a thing that brought him no small amount of anguish over the years.)  Baseball has a special place in my heart, and is my favorite sport to watch in person.\

• Not sleeping well is causing me to be in a near-constant state of exhaustion, which is surely leading me to an early death.  Last night, I turned in at a very reasonable hour, and actually fell asleep... only to wake up after a couple of hours.  By the time I managed to look at the clock, it was around 1:40, but my wife says she noticed me being awake and disturbed around 12:30.  I was awake most of the rest of the night, which was no good, because I had a morning online training session for my corporate job (indie rock does not pay the bills), and I kind of needed to be able to think clearly and focus for that.  No bueno.  If there is any bright side here, I managed to write a song between the hours of 3 and 4 in the morning, and I don't hate it yet.

• I might write a series of musings on love at some point, much like I did this year with a series on dreams.  I tend to develop a certain amount of affection for anyone with whom I have ever had a particularly meaning conversation, and for the people I have known the longest, that tends to run deeper.  Of course, there are people who one loves because one decides to, and people who one no longer loves because one decides not to, but for me, most of all that isn't very voluntary.  I've been thinking about this more recently because some of my classmates from way way back in my youth have been dealing with assorted types of life adversity, and one of the decent things about social media is the ability for us to know some of these things.  I've recently been feeling a mix of being heartbroken for them while also in awe of their resilient spirit and perseverance.   

Anxious Inventions & Fictions is officially being released this Saturday, September 12th, so yes, I am shouting it from the rooftops everywhere because I would really love for you to at least listen to it, maybe even purchase it.  (This is where you can purchase it.) Have you noticed the beautiful cover art for the album?  If not, well, here it is again:

Megan Fiely is the artist responsible for this painting that is hanging on the wall of my home, and also gracing the cover of Anxious Inventions & Fictions, both in the digital realm and in hard copy.  How about getting to know this artist better?  Interview questions after the picture:

 

 

1.  Let's hear the elevator pitch for your skill set. 

I am an abstract artist who works with bold texture and color, simultaneously exploring the celestial and the microscopic. 

 

 

2.  When did you first start painting? 

Visual communication, in one form or another, has always been my thing. My parents are both artists so I'm lucky to have absorbed art like a native language. I've taken a lot of different creative paths like music, clay, and quilting (!), but the painter you'd currently recognize as Megan Fiely started happening about 7 years ago. I have older paintings, but I was just fumbling around and imitating other artists, which is very important. I now feel secure evolving my own distinct style. 

 

 

3.  You are best known as a visual artist, but you are also a musician, and maybe folks who are familiar with your paintings don't know that.  What instruments do you play, and when did you start making music? 

I play the piano and sing at home, and have a guitar for fun too. I started doing all that stuff as a kid: first piano lessons in elementary school and then of course a Fender Stratocaster at 12 or 13, followed by a sanded down but rather nice repainted bass with a fairy painted on it. I had the typical 90s power chord cover band who played for 3 of our friends in the garage. Then in my 20s I dated a musician and one night his bass player didn't show up (again). I got out of the bathtub to go fill in and accidentally became a bassist for several years. Eventually I folded in one of those newer Hammond keyboards that has a built in tube, put it through a Marshall and played bass lines with my left hand on a Korg. I also always contributed back up vocals, and have a good ear for harmonies. 

Honestly though, I'm better with a paintbrush. I like leaving the music to all my talented friends and painting album covers for them when I get a chance. And on that note, thanks for including me in the Anxious Inventions & Fictions project Mike! 

 

4.  What was the first album you can remember buying with your own money? 

Pretty sure it was Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness - Smashing Pumpkins. Or maybe No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom. 

 

5.  Tell me about the last concert you saw. 

The last official concert while not bartending at Yellow Cab was all the way back in summer 2019 when The Breeders played at Levitt Pavillion. (Mike adds: I wrote about that show in a previous blog entry.)  That was a lot of fun because almost everyone I knew was in the audience. I remember rocking out in the audience with you, Mike! Kim and Kelly are cool but Josephine's my babe because tall, bassist, British. 

 

6.  What artists do you consider to be your biggest influences, and why?  This can include any kind of art... poets, painters, sculptors, songwriters, etc. 

Van Gogh is everyone's favorite, including mine. He was more than just a painter though: Van Gogh was a part of the earth, and maybe some kind of human conduit for nature's beauty. My art doesn't look like his, but I think all artists are attempting to tap that same vein. 

Also Chagall, Klimt, O'Keefe. Again, my work doesn't look like theirs but I appreciate the spirit of their work, and of course all the color. I like when a figurative piece tells a story. 

 

 

7.  I imagine that artists like yourself face a similar challenge to musicians in that (1) art is generally devalued by the public just like music is and (2) there may be people willing to buy your art, but it can be difficult to find them.  How do you deal with those two challenges?

STAY IN THE STUDIO. I had to stop looking for gratification though sales or popularity. I'm a very sensitive and anxious person with big opinions, so I tend to find myself in difficult situations when I'm being too public. I'm happier just living simply and focusing on the actual craft of painting. It seems like putting my energy into the art itself, rather than sales, results in just as many sales anyway. I feel valued and recognized by friends like you, Mike, and I'm seriously not bs-ing you that it's enough. Plus you had me paint your album cover so.... things do tend to work out. 

It's important to consider your audience as well. Do I really want to sell my art to rich people or corporations as part of some interior design project? Sure, but you best believe I'm gouging them! I'd seriously rather sell 10 small paintings to my friends at $60 a pop than make one big sale and never see the painting again. I am so fortunate to have a lot of creative and supportive friends and to live in a city that values the arts. I want to encourage regular people to collect and commission original art, rather than seeing it as out of reach because of the art snobs. Understanding this allows me to opt out of the things I don't want to do. 

 

8.  How do you know when a painting is done? 

Finishing is the easy part, since by that point I've worked out all the technical aspects of the composition, balance, and texture. Perfecting the color happens close to the end. It's the mystical, meditative part of the journey. Once the colors are singing and dancing around the canvas, I know I'm very close to finished and I do some final technical adjustments. I'll dry brush metallics in places that need just a little more dimension, for example. Then I'll set it somewhere in my house for a few days and just cohabitate with the painting, and adjust anything that strikes me as distracting or otherwise bothersome. Then I sign it on the side of the canvas and it's done.

 

 

***

Big thanks to Megan for the lovely painting on my wall, being willing to do this interview, and being a genuinely kind and lovely human.  Also, look at the colors jump off the screen in those samples of her work!  You can browse what she has available for sale at her online store.  You can also find her on Instagram.

What?

The album title is Anxious Inventions & Fictions, which is a lyric taken from the piano ballad "Insomnia".  The album art looks something like this:

 

Megan Fiely, "Insomnia", 24" X 24", acrylic on canvas, 2020.

This album exists in two versions. 

First, there is a ten song digital version.  Do you remember my crowdfunding campaign in order to press vinyl from earlier this year?  That did not get funded, so the ten song digital version is what the album would have been on vinyl.  In order to duplicate the vinyl experience, after the fifth song finishes playing, press pause on your device, get up and walk around the room for thirty seconds to simulate flipping the record over, and then continue. 

Second, there is a twelve song deluxe version on compact disc.  This contains two additional songs, an alternate mix of the opening track "Your Anthem", and a different track order, for a custom listening experience. The CD also comes with a twelve page booklet, containing lyrics, liner notes, and art.  For both versions, the album is sequenced carefully, and the listener is meant to listen to all of the songs in order.

 

Who?

Mike Bankhead.  That's the name/logo on the cover.  I wrote and arranged the songs for the most part.  I say "for the most part", because TINO wrote lyrics and is featured on one song (you might remember a blog post about him), and Greg Owens co-wrote another song (you might remember a blog post about him as well).  Also, two songs feature string arrangements by the outrageously talented Blair Breitreiter.  But wait, there is more...

Here is a list of the wonderful folks who lent their time and talents to this album:

Eli Alban
Dustin Booher 
Blair Breitreiter 
Thad Brittain  
Chris Corn 
Ken Hall
Valentino Halton
Patrick Himes 
Brian Hoeflich
Chad Middleton
Kent Montgomery
David Payne 
Nathan Peters 
Tim Pritchard 
Tod Weidner 
Heather York

This album sounds good, mostly because of this list of humans.  For those of you who are not familiar with independent music in Dayton, you'll just have to trust me when I say that some of the finest musicians in our area are represented here.  

Also, a tip of the hat to Megan Fiely for the beautiful painting, and to Spencer Williams for the photography, layout, and design.

 

When?

There are some different answers to this question.  Let's start with making the album.  Tracking and mixing took place between February 2019 and February 2020.  That's a year of hard work, not just my own efforts, but also the people listed above, and specifically Patrick Himes as the recording and mixing engineer and David Payne as assistant engineer.

You can order this album on September 4th.  That happens to be Bandcamp Friday, when Bandcamp forgoes their customary cut of artist sales.  That means that all of the funds spent on Anxious Inventions & Fictions on that specific date go to me, and contribute to my ability to continue making art for you to enjoy.  If perchance you don't know where to find me on Bandcamp, here's the link for you to bookmark:

https://mikebankhead.bandcamp.com/

The official release date for this album is September 12th.  That is the day that you will be able to listen to it on the Bandcamp page I just mentioned.  That's also the day for which a safe, socially distanced, outdoors release celebration is planned.

For those of you who only listen to music via streaming services, you will find Anxious Inventions & Fictions available there on September 15th.

 

 

Where?

The album was recorded and mixed at Reel Love Recording Company in Dayton, Ohio.  Blair handled some additional recording of string arrangements at Bohemian Trash Studios in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  The album was mastered at True East Mastering in Nashville, Tennessee.

The socially distanced release celebration will happen at Yellow Cab Tavern on 4th Street in downtown Dayton.  Please note that the owners and staff at Yellow Cab care deeply about the health of our community, and require all visitors to wear a mask.  If you do not wear a mask, they will kindly ask you to leave.  Yellow Cab also has social distancing guidelines in place.  If you wish to know more about the precautions they are taking and how you can cooperate, please give them a call.  

 

Why?

There are those who think that music doesn't need a reason, because "l'art pour l'art", right?  I haven't thought about that particular worldview all that much.  I certainly have my reasons for making art.  

Songwriting is how I deal with stress and anxiety and depression.  Songwriting helps me to work through all sorts of emotional turmoil, and the catharsis that it provides is probably a net benefit to my mental health.  Songwriting is a way for me to say what I want or need to say, especially when nobody is listening.  Not all of those songs get recorded as demos at home, and even fewer of them make it all the way to the studio... but some of them do, and this is what  happens when they do.

I still believe in the idea of the album as an art form. That's not popular these days, as music is seen as a resource, a commodity, a value-less product, both by the companies who use it to make profit, and by the vast majority of music listeners.  I don't make pop music, so of course, I'm not making music for these people.  I make music first of all for me, because it's something I'm driven to do... and all of you other musicians out there, I see you nodding along.  Of course, I wish to share my art... well, the subset of it that I get around to thinking is of enough quality to warrant sharing... but if I write something I don't personally like, you won't be hearing it.  I won't write in a genre or in a certain way because it's popular, because I'm trying to get rich, or because I think it's what someone wants to hear.  You'll only be getting authenticity from me, thank you very much.

The above said, music is also a means of communication.  Thoughts, feelings, ideas, the concrete, the abstract, and just about everyone wishes to be heard, yes?  Maybe music is kind of a cry for help?  Tell you what, as soon as I get a therapist, I'll be sure to discuss this with them.

 

How?

You know, ever since I was a teenager, if I see that particular word all on it's own, I can't help but sing it.  I mean, I sing it inside my own head where nobody is listening, but it has to be sung.  How, you said you never would leave me alone....

So, how did this happen?  Lots of hard work.  I'm not exactly a gifted musician or songwriter, but I work at it, and I have some perfectionist tendencies, which means lots of editing and re-writing. A great deal of singing practice.  A great deal of singing the same parts over and over again, until Patrick would tell me that it's no longer pitchy.  All sorts of patience from Patrick Himes and the musicians who agreed to play for me.  Even more patience from my wife when I would be in the studio for long hours and obsess over details in mixes at home.

How? Time. Pain. Self-Doubt. Frustration. Tears. Stress. Study. Thought. Experimentation. Explanation. Sleeplessness. 

 

Anxious Inventions & Fictions is my best work.  That's what I think, anyway.  I hope you think so, too.

I suffer from terrible insomnia.  Unless I am really jet lagged or physically worn out, getting to sleep is a struggle.  Simply, I can't turn my brain off.  I think about this, about that, about things that matter, about things that really don't matter, over and over and over and over.  When I am eventually able to sleep, my brain keeps right on churning. Enter dreams.

You might think this topic is just an excuse to reference songs about dreams... and well, you wouldn't be 100% wrong...

 

Let's keep this first installment musical.  Sometimes, I dream lyrics.  Here are some that I wrote down after waking up at a crazy early hour:

wrap me up in the rabble of the crowd that's had enough

I have no idea what that means.  I am certain there were other words around these, but when I woke up in that not-quite-coherent state, these are the only ones I could focus on enough to actually write down.  Good enough to keep, yes.  Good enough to write around, maybe.  Maybe another dream will bring me more lyrics to finish out this idea.

Sometimes I dream complete songs.  I mean, completely written and arranged.  Intro, verse, chorus, bridge, chord progressions, cool bass lines.  The conscious version of me who is typing this blog entry right now wonders how many of these are just popular songs that we all know, but recycled.  There is a part of me that thinks there might actually be something in there though.  Sadly, I generally never remember enough of the music upon waking to do anything with it... I say "generally", because there is an exception.  It's a song that is now called "Never Let Go".  I'll hold back additional commentary on that for a future blog post.

When I think about this further, I think that I might actually write better songs in my sleep than I do when I'm awake.  Yeah, that sounds like a pithy hyperbole, but I am afraid it may be true.  That part of me that is overly self-critical, the part of me that never thinks anything is ever good enough, the part of me that writes with chord charts handy... those parts aren't there when I'm sleeping.  Maybe the music I hear in my dreams is where my true creativity is?

 

 

 

 

Straight talk, a few days before this conference, I really didn't want to go.  I was tired.  Mentally and emotionally tired.  However, I already made the plans, and had already taken vacation days from my corporate job, so yeah, I went.

This year's DIY Musician Conference sponsored by CD Baby was held in Austin, Texas.  The dates were 16 to 18 August.  This was my third conference, and by far the hottest... because it is crazy hot in Texas in August.  

I won't go on a lengthy description of the delicious brisket I had there, as that's another blog post.  I won't talk about the migas breakfast tacos, either.  I had a very interesting cultural experience watching people sing Russian karaoke, but maybe we'll save that for another blog post as well.  Let's keep this one focused on music stuff.

When I say "music stuff", I mean the work.  Writing music and lyrics is work of course, but that's enjoyable work.  Recording is work, but that's also enjoyable work.  There is a great deal of other business stuff that has to be done when you're an independent artist though... these are the things I was there to learn, and these are the things that make a very long to-do list for me going forward.

A nice benefit of this conference is being surrounded by a bunch of other musicians from all over the world.  Many genres.  Many languages.  Different points in their careers.  Making those personal connections is something that helps me get through the weekend without being wilted by social anxiety (as opposed to just being wilted by the Texas heat).  Now, I met dozens of interesting people over the weekend, and had many interesting conversations... but let me tell you about two specific people whose company I enjoyed.

First, Jessica.  She sat next to me during the first session on Friday morning.  That first day is tough, especially if you're like me and you don't like crowds.  In this case, my neighbor was even more anxious than me possibly, as this was her first conference.  It turns out that Jessica is a pianist from Los Angeles.  I would describe her as very much like a shorter version of Fiona Apple... well, that was until I looked up Fiona Apple's height, and they're probably about the same stature-wise.  At any rate, think piano-based pop music with interesting lyrics, and a beautiful voice.  Jessica performs as Bellorage.  You can listen to her music here. 

We were treated to a Bellorage performance at the post-show music shindig.  It was great. That part at 3:19 of "Terribly Lovely" gave me goosebumps when I saw it live.

 

 

 

Ok, so a second story about a person.  At the conference, they have these tables set up to help all of us anxious musicians to break the ice and start conversations.  There is a line of tables that each has a sign based on a region... Austin, New York, Midwest, South, West, Europe, Canada, etc.  There is another line of tables broken up by music genre... hip hop, country, edm, pop, rock, etc.  So, I head to the rock table.  When I mention that I am from Dayton, Ohio, someone points to this other fella and says "he's from Dayton as well"... the other fella had "Austin" on his badge, so I was skeptical.  Turns out he is from Dayton, but moved to Austin for his music career a couple of year ago.  Since we're from the same area, I figured I'd tell him specifically that I grew up in Xenia.  He says "dude, I'm from Yellow Springs".  Yes, we're both from the same county, and don't meet until a music conference in Austin.

His name is Brandon, and he's in Westerly Station.  What's more, he and his wife happened to be in Ohio last week, where they went on WYSO to talk about their music with Juliet on Wednesday night, then they stopped by Reel Love Recording Company on Thursday to do some tracking with me.  You'll be hearing some sweet mandolin that Brandon played before the end of the fall. 

In summary, an enjoyable conference, despite the work.  I hope to attend again next year.

The last time I went to Sri Lanka was 2014.  This was, like all of my visits to that lovely island, a work trip… long days in the office, then more work from the hotel later at night once the United States had woken up and gotten to work and started sending emails.  I worked hard. Too hard, it turns out. I came home… kept working… drinking a couple of liters of coffee a day, fighting the jet lag, trying to keep up with things, and not sleeping enough… then one day, it would appear that my mind and/or body decided that it couldn’t do this anymore. 

I remember having felt strange for a couple of days, but no more than strange.  On one particular day however, “strange” went to a completely different place. Chest pain.  The shakes. Racing heartbeat. I broke out in a sweat. I felt dizzy. I was convinced that I was having a heart attack, and asked my wife to drive me to the hospital.  We hadn’t even gotten a mile down the road when it got worse… shortness of breath… left arm pain… more chest pain… the feeling of impending doom… more shakes. I implored her to pull over, and we called 911.  I made sure to tell her that I love her, you know, because I was surely going to die. The ambulance shows up, I get on the bed with the wheels, I get loaded in, and away we go. The medic gives me nitroglycerin in pill form, immediately starts an IV, and then runs an EKG.  We’re not even to the hospital yet when he tells me that I definitely did NOT have a heart attack. He says that since he’s not a doctor, he can’t give me an “official” diagnosis, but he says that what I have had is a panic attack caused by stress. I ask him how I would be able to tell the difference… he says that I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, and calling 911 was the right thing to do. 

Overnight in the hospital.  Lots of tests.  IV in each arm… and I hate hate hate needles.  Lots of EKG. One of those CAT scans where they put dye in you that makes you feel like you have wet yourself, then wheel you into a machine head first.  A stress test, where you run on the treadmill. It turns out that I’m fine. Sure, I definitely need to lose weight, but my blood pressure is great. Blood sugar is fine.  Cholesterol levels are fine. Everything’s fine. Welcome to having anxiety. 

Starting from that day, panic attacks are a part of my life now.  They were most intense the first couple of months after the diagnosis.  It is most unsettling if I am driving. Usually these days when I get a panic attack, I am at home by myself, but I recently had one in a rather public setting with a lot of people watching, and that wasn’t any fun.  I guess this is part of my new normal… or maybe, this is something that I’ve always been dealing with, and now I’m old enough that my mind/body can’t suppress it anymore? 

After this - and I don’t remember when exactly, but it happened at some point - the suicidal thoughts returned.  I say “returned”, because I’ve had them before, but it’s not something I generally talk about. Maybe that’s genetic, as I know my dad had them too.  Anyway, here’s a secret… my first speeding ticket, back when I was 19… that was a suicide attempt gone wrong. I was having a particularly angsty time as a late teen.  I had recently lost someone who I was very close to. Work was particularly frustrating. I remember feeling that I couldn’t deal with it anymore. To get home from where I was working at the time, I had to make about a 25 minute drive, and much of it was on one of those two lane roads that cuts through the country bits connecting the Dayton suburbs.  I decided I was going to get going up to around 90 mph, take off my seatbelt, and jerk the wheel left as soon as I saw a car that looked big enough to make the destruction instantaneous. I never made it quite to 90, and I never got the seatbelt off, because I got pulled over for speeding. Of course, being a young black man, at that point, I was 100% frightened of the police officer, and all of the suicidal ideation went away, and the self-preservation kicked in.  I mean, death is supposed to be a release from pain, and getting shot is painful, so that’s pretty much all I thought about. 

The medication.  The first go-round didn’t work.  The doctor upped the dosage. The higher dosage made the room spin around for about an hour, starting ten minutes or so after I swallow the pill.  I stopped taking that. The insomnia got worse... something I had dealt with before, but it was back and worse than ever before.  When I did manage to sleep, I would wake up drenched, having sweated profusely through horrific nightmares... body wet, hair wet, clothes wet, sheets wet, pillow wet.  Ick.

Then I started having trouble concentrating.  Those that know me probably know I have perfectionist tendencies… I hate being wrong.  I’d rather say nothing than say something that is wrong. One of my personal points of pride in the past has been being efficient and effective at work, showing attention to detail, and getting things right.  Well, I started making mistakes… silly ones, when I should know better. Often, nobody would notice. Sometimes, someone would notice. I noticed them all, and each one ate at me… I would get more frustrated with myself.  Some days, I just couldn’t function. I would just lay in bed all day. I wouldn’t eat. (By the way, not eating for a few days is a very effective weight loss strategy, though most nutritionists would probably not recommend this.)  I got more irritable. Sometimes I would cry for no reason. More often, I just felt numb… everything was “meh”... no good, no bad, no up, no down, just IS. I’m sure I was a pain for my wife to deal with. I couldn’t remember things that I had read or seen… and again, those that know me probably know that I tend to remember just about everything I read, especially if I read it more than once.  Since all of this was beginning to impact my ability to do my job, I figured I should be more thorough about getting professional help. 

When I did this, my wife told me that she knew I was depressed even back when we were dating, many years ago.  That was an interesting revelation. Maybe I don’t even know what “normal” or “well-adjusted” is supposed to be.   

The therapy.  I went to therapy.  I didn’t like that. I should probably try it again, but sitting in a room talking about my feelings is not my idea of a good time.  I have been told to try it again, by multiple people. Sure, I’ll try it again as soon as I am done procrastinating. 

New doctor.  New medication.  It gave me diarrhea.  I didn’t feel better. I kept taking the medication.  I kept checking in with the doctor. I kept having panic attacks, albeit less frequently.  More medication. Higher dosage. The diarrhea stops. I didn’t feel better, but the doctor says he sees improvement in my ability to focus and have a conversation.  This makes me realize that I was affected in ways that I surely didn’t even notice. I go on a work trip to North Carolina, where one day I go to the lobby of my hotel around 4 in the morning convinced I am dying again.  New hospital. Still no heart issue. Yet another panic attack, a particularly bad one… and particularly expensive, due to the ambulance ride and hospital visit and the United States. More medication. Check in with the doctor. Higher dosage.  The feelings of worthlessness.  This is my new normal. Medication daily, try to fight off the very dark thoughts, try to stay busy, try to get work done.

I’m broken.  This is something I have come to accept. More often than I care to admit, I just don't have "ganas"... somehow this feeling makes much more sense in Spanish than in English... see, "ganas" means "want to" or "feel like" when it is a noun.... yeah, "se fue las ganas" is something you could quote me as saying regularly, except for I don't often actually say it out loud.  Some might reason that having faith should make everything better, but faith doesn’t work like that. Alexa, insert that meme that says “that’s not how any of this works”.  For instance, imagine that a person has lupus.  This person may have all the faith in the world, but that isn’t going to make the lupus go away, or even treat it.  This person needs professional attention… and while faith might help them to endure the condition, it is not a cure.  I have come to understand that anxiety/depression works in a similar manner. It’s something that I need to manage with professional attention, and while having faith might help me to endure, it is not treatment, and it will not make the issue go away. 

You know what helps me feel a little better sometimes?  Music.  Now, I do not mean that music is a panacea, nor is it treatment.  Indeed, there have been multiple occasions where I have had tickets to a show already paid for, and couldn't bring myself to leave home, so I skipped the show and was just out the money.  (The musicians got paid though, so there is your silver lining.)  However, quite often, when I am sitting at the piano or playing the bass, I can feel some of the stress peel away.  Writing songs is especially cathartic. I am not exactly a gifted musician by any means, but I like to play, and I like to continue learning about theory and how/why music works.  Indeed, music is a great confluence of my inner drive to read and learn and absorb, mashed into an art form that I find to be pleasing. In addition to making sure that there isn’t any weaponry readily available in our home, being project-oriented around music helps to keep the suicidal ideation at bay.  First, making suicide plans just seems to be too much effort… and second, I have a bunch of songs I want to record, and being dead would make it much more difficult to get that done.  It would be inaccurate to say that music makes me “happy”, but sometimes it makes me feel just slightly less broken.