Kurtis - 50

“He’s a worrier.”

It’s a refrain I heard a lot growing up, often from other rooms. My folks talking with friends, parent-teacher interviews, friends chatting. I was a ‘worrier,’ and still am. Drill down a little bit, then fast-forward to early adulthood and that refrain resulted in a dual diagnosis of anxiety and depression. While I am generally a very happy, jovial, optimistic – some would say hilarious – person, the waves of anxiety and depression that have crashed over me over the years have almost always made me think my natural hard drive, the ‘real’ me, was gone for good.

It most often manifests as rumination and worry, usually on just a couple subjects. While rumination and worry are natural, for me they can be all-encompassing and debilitating.

My earliest memory of these struggles is when I was around seven years old. On a random Sunday afternoon, my Dad and I were at a flea market and he had given me a couple dollars to spend on whatever I wanted. Within a minute or two, I found myself at a table piled with second-hand books and comics, and I handed over my money in exchange for a couple Archie Double Digests.

In the car on the way home, I was flipping through them, quickly noting that many of the stories I’d read before; they had appeared in other collections I had. I got quite upset with myself, immediately beating myself up for just spending my money right away, without even looking through them. There were a couple of action figures at that market that I saw later and could have bought instead. As we pulled into our driveway, I remember my heart speeding up, and my muscles tense.

Why didn’t I save the money? Maybe Dad would have thrown me a couple more bucks down the road and I could have bought something so much better. What if this means I’m bad with money? What if this means I will ALWAYS be bad with money?

When we got into the house I went to my room and started crying. I convinced myself this was a sign that I was destined to always do the wrong thing with money, which meant I would likely turn out to be a very irresponsible adult who couldn’t pay his bills. Of course, no one would ever want to be with someone who can’t pay their bills, keep a home, or afford food.

I convinced myself my life would be a failure; I would forever be alone, broke, with no prospects.

As absurd as this sounds, it was very real at the time. I was so ashamed about my purchase and these thoughts that I had trouble eating and sleeping for days. When I was alone, I would cry. Nothing I usually enjoyed, from watching Happy Days, to riding bikes, gave me the smallest spark of happiness or even contentment. The unshakeable thoughts permeated every moment of my day, this impending doom. The guilt and dread were immense and impenetrable. I remember excusing myself in school to go to the washroom a few times because I felt like I was going to cry, or vomit, or explode, or SOMETHING.

I ended up completely breaking down and “confessing” everything to my Mom, who assured me I did nothing wrong, and one by one went through why all of my concerns could be disputed, and told me everything would be okay. It was still days before I felt ‘normal’ again.

Substitute any adulthood obstacle, concern, failure, misstep, or a particularly stressful event for picking up those couple Archie comics, and the mental and physical feelings that follow if my anxiety and depression flare up are pretty much identical. Whether realistic or far-fetched worries, they become extremely real, vivid, and debilitating.

I went through this cycle many times until my early 20s and getting the diagnosis. Medication has been a massive help, but the support of my wife, friends, and family have made my ebbs and flows manageable. Therapy, nutrition, exercise, and other wellness pursuits are also key, and I note that when ‘life gets in the way,’ and those things start slipping away, so does my mental wellness.

I’ve now learned that so much of what I deal with are known as cognitive distortions, the most famous collection of them amassed by Dr. David Burns in 1980. Some of their names alone point to so many aspects of my illustrated childhood experience. ‘All or Nothing Thinking’, ‘Overgeneralization’, ‘Jumping to Conclusions (Fortune Telling)’, ‘Magnification’, ‘Personalisation and/or Blame’ and so on.

The good thing is I now have a pretty good toolbox for tackling these things, and it comes in handy when being overwhelmed with professional ventures, dealing with grief, loss, and tragedy, or handling random curveballs I don’t see coming.

This was always destined to be a lifelong journey, but it has taken an interesting turn in just these last few weeks.

I’d venture to say that anxiety and depression have been sporadic, but constant in various sizes every few months or so.

A recent flare-up resulted in my doing some extra exploration and self-discovery. There was a missing piece of the puzzle I found upon a realization that almost every flare-up has dovetailed at times in my life when I am absolutely overwhelmed with things: work in particular, but home-based ventures and projects, and other things that pile up. I get so overcome with responsibilities that I procrastinate in tackling them because they often bring about negative feelings, stoking anxiety, depression, and more. I’m remarkably disorganized and punish myself about this continuously. I forget various responsibilities until they reappear with urgency. It’s times like this where I’m much more impulsive with spending, I throw away any semblance of balanced, responsible eating and drinking, and shirk ‘any’ responsibility that’s weighing on me.

And so.

After numerous appointments and conversations, I have been officially diagnosed with ADHD.

While I’d normally shudder at yet another diagnosis regarding my mental health, my instinct is that this awareness has been a missing link to my overall wellness. While I’ve gotten better over the years at tackling my anxiety and depression, I’ve only now discovered what I believe to be stoking it much of the time.

Fortunately, there’s more room in that toolbox, now for extra cognitive behavioural therapy, mandated regular exercise (which is key), and more.

For me, dialogue and communication are key. I’m so glad we are much more open about discussing these things now; there’s no way I could have made many strides over the years without those components – and I very likely wouldn’t have discovered the ADHD without learning from others’ experiences, and having open discussions with my wife, friends and colleagues about what I’m going through.

I know I will still have flare-ups and slips. But I also know that I will always rally, I have every time so far.

I can glance at those Archie comics at the supermarket checkout, and in my mind, tell that seven-year-old kid that it’ll all be okay.

Music - Kurtis's music choices during our photo session included Mac Miller, Wilco, R.E.M., Buck 65, Neko Case and Neil Diamond.