Eric - 41

I will never forget the moment when I realized it was “5 minutes to show time”.

“A Hot Mess” is what best described me at that moment. Typically, I am pacing a permanent path in the company carpet, however this time, I am curled up in a ball on the floor at my desk. For those who know me as a germaphobe, me laying on the floor would have been a tell-tale sign. I am very well known to HATE dirt and let me tell you, Radio Studio floors are gross. This moment was truly out of body, inescapable. My hands felt weightless, either from lack of blood flow or adrenaline from sheer panic. All I wanted to do was run. My fear was that if I ran, everything would be taken away. I didn’t feel deserving of this job in the first place.

Flashback two days earlier, I was given my own national Radio Show, a dream gig. This is what I had worked so hard for, and now I was in a complete state of panic because of it. My dream is here, and my only thought is if I can’t do this right now, will I be able to do it in the future?

“4 minutes to show time”.

Nope. Nope. Nope. It just wasn’t going to happen. Fighting back tears, I put on my coat to get ready to leave. I felt angry, frustrated, and self-loathing. “What a fuck up”, I kept repeating as I shook my head in shame. My feet had me headed towards the door, but I stopped. Just barely holding together the shape of a human, I closed my eyes, found a moment, stepped back, and took a deep breath. Turning around, I headed back into the Radio Studio. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked myself, as I took my coat off, slumped in my chair, and stared out the window. There is a sense of calm when you look down on the city from the 20th  floor at night. Everything is so silent in the distance. How can so many people be so quiet?

“3 minutes to show time”.

“I control my thoughts; my thoughts do not control me” are the words repeated now. The thing about anxiety attacks is that you feel like you have to run, but when you take a beat, and sit in the moment, you can find calm, grab a hold, and hang on for dear life. I should also mention that I am a sweater, so me holding onto anything in these situations is clammy and gross.

“2 minutes to show time”.

I gathered my papers and forced myself to take air into my lungs. Clear-headed and hyper aware, I walked into the Radio Studio and took my seat. Here is where I remind myself, I am in the moment.

“1 minute to show time”.

By now, I can grab on, and keep another moment of calm with me.

“30 seconds to show time”.

I feel a tingle on my forehead, my toes, and fingertips.

“10 seconds to show time”.

One last breath, and it feels like eternity.

“Show time”.

I crack the mic to a national audience heard in 7 markets across Canada. At the other end of the mic is Charles Adler. Bless his heart, he made a joke about an assassination attempt on the Korean Leader. My response: “Charles, I just can’t do it. I can’t joke. I am having a tough time and need some help in this moment. I am having an anxiety attack and want to share it”. Chuck throws to the phones, and they start lighting up. In radio talk, that means if there are 20 lines, they all have callers waiting to speak. That night, the Radio Show started off with me sharing that I was having an anxiety attack. Without giving advice, I wanted to share what I was experiencing, and that I was going to get through it okay.  

As I went to the next caller, I noticed something was wrong. I heard a voice in my headphones that wasn’t mine. I looked at my board operator who motioned a shrug, came on the intercom, and told me that management called. He was ordered to take the show off air immediately and run a repeat. I was sent home.

The days after were full of meetings to tell me what I did wrong. I was not at all prepared for what came next. I was pulled into a meeting to discuss the Radio Show I was given. My dream gig. They took it away. I went numb and decided to take a vacation hoping going somewhere else will fix all my problems. While on the trip, the feelings returned, and I felt SO incredibly hollow. I began to cry. Ugly cry. The holiday was no help at all. I returned to work even more broken than before. By my second day back, I was in a ball on the floor of my bedroom, unable to stand up. Rocking back and forth all I wanted was some relief. I didn’t want to take my life, but I also didn’t want to be here anymore. I managed to call my doctor who prescribed me a 3- month temporary leave of absence. I had a mental breakdown.

Over the next few months, I would build myself back up again. It was surreal. Often it felt like I was in a fog especially when I started the medication. At first it was scary but once you let go, and step into the fog, you realize it’s nice. It’s a place where you can learn to process your emotions without having them overwhelm you. At the time I asked myself why? How could this happen? On my way to the top of my career, I could see it right there. The answer is I didn’t feel worthy, I never felt like I was good enough, or had the talent. The moment I received my Radio Show was so overwhelmingly positive, I never thought to be conscious of my mental health. Why would I?

This memory is a real reminder that it goes both ways. Now, when good things happen, I am just as aware of my mental health as I am when I am depressed. If I am angry, how’s my mental health? When a podcast I write on wins an award, how’s my mental health? If I ate oysters for lunch, how is my mental health? Obviously not good because I ate an oyster, and oyster’s are gross.

Good and bad, we need to put in the work and use the tools provided through therapy, and the love of good friends. Celebrate the wins but don’t let them sneak up and overwhelm you. You are worthy, and so am I.

Music - Eric’s music choices during our photo session included The Roots, Stevie Wonder, and Led Zeppelin.