Backstory

A long time ago, my dad told me in great secrecy that he had decided to start taking an anti-depressant. He told me he was buying it from India or Canada, because he didn’t want it on his medical records. He had self diagnosed as depressed. Why no mental health professional involved? He didn’t want the stigma. Truth be told, he was embarrassed and ashamed that he perceived he needed it.

Part of it is being a dude, and part of it is generational. He said that he was prone to bouts of crying and general malaise, so he decided he was depressed. Was he? No idea, but that was his solution. Interestingly, when he made this decision, he was still drinking. He has been sober for 15 + years now. Alcohol was obviously a coping mechanism for him.

But this is a story about ME, not him. I mention him, because I wouldn’t have considered medication at the time for my symptoms. What were my symptoms you ask? I distinctly remember being 30 and hating myself for being overly emotional. I would cry a lot, mostly out of frustration, but I remember feeling that there was something wrong with me. Men were supposed to be able to control their emotions.

So I too took the incredibly stupid road of purchasing drugs from Mexico, Canada, or wherever I didn’t need a prescription via the internet. In retrospect that was incredibly stupid. I had no idea what I was taking. But I was desperate. At 30, I had 3 young children and a growing business. In other words, I was stressed and I was not equipped to handle it.

Professional “Help”

Eventually I went to see a psychiatrist, and she gave me a script for Lexapro and Wellbutrin. The latter was to counter the effects of the first. Lexapro definitely lowered my emotions, but it reduced them to the point where I didn’t feel much at all.

And I would have proceeded down the path, probably until my death, until I had this crazy idea to become a private pilot. One of the requirements of a private pilot license is that you pass a physical. The physical itself was/is a joke. No bloodwork, no EKG. Honestly it reminded me of the physicals that you had to take to participate in sports when I was younger. Although I don’t remember if there was the ever pleasant check for a hernia (ladies ask your man).

The doctor finished my exam, looked at me, and said “I can’t pass you”, because on my list of medications I was taking, I honestly put down everything I was taking. You see, both of the medications I was taking for mental health were blacklisted by the FAA. I went home…and cried. Yes, even on medication.

But I wanted to learn to fly, so I made the commitment to get off the drugs, and go through the ridiculous process of obtaining a waiver from the FAA. I eventually did, and earned my ticket (pilot talk for license).

Let me veer off and say that the way that the FAA addresses mental health for pilots is an absolute joke. After being denied my medical, I discussed with a lot of pilots. One seasoned pilot, a friend of mine, just shook his head. “Yeah you don’t tell the FAA that kind of shit.” I was aghast. Evidently it’s a thing for pilots to lie to their physicians to keep flying.

After I looked into it, there is a real problem in the industry with the current system that actively encourages pilots to withhold information from their doctors. I had no idea. I was naïve. As one pilot put it, if your standing waist deep in water, and the FAA asks if you’re wet, you tell them no.

Back to my mental health. When completing my flight training, I can tell you that doing it without the SSRI was awful. I was a ball of stress. Eventually I decided to go back on them, because I couldn’t handle it, and I figured I would do what others do, lie.

I started the pilot journey in 2021. In addition to a global medical scare, my marriage was in stress. My wife had a ton of shit come down on her, and neither of us was handling it well. The reality was that all of that stress forced us to work on ourselves and our marriage in a way that we hadn’t before. We had to get to some root causes that we had avoided.

My Situation

My wife became pregnant on our honeymoon, and so we didn’t really have any time to figure this marriage thing out. By 30 we had three kids, so all of our energy was poured into that and the business. When the kids were gone, we weren’t the same people, and we were forced to look at what our marriage was about beyond procreating.

In that regard, I’m glad that I was on the drugs during that period. I’m not sure I or we would have made it without. Why?

Here’s the thing. I had some trauma from my youth ( who doesn’t) as did my wife. That trauma, combined with my nature (empathetic and emotional) turned into a toxic mess. I simply didn’t know how to process my emotions in a health way. So I coped, with prescription drugs, alcohol, and my business. None of that solved the underlying problem.

Second veer. I’m convinced that many entrepreneurs start their business at some level to deal with their trauma. The business gives them the illusion of control. If you look at addiction, it is the same. I can’t make my situation different, but I can drink, and numb myself. There is always one thing you can control, yourself, and addiction is about controlling yourself in a negative way. The problem with this for entrepreneurs is that a business, much like alcohol, is socially acceptable. Nobody looks at business owners and sees that the business IS their coping mechanism. Most business owners don’t realize it until they’ve ruined things.

From 2021 until present, I have done a lot of hard work on myself. I’ve faced the demons, I’ve named them, and by the grace of God, I’ve put them in their place. Let me be very clear. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Harder than starting a business, or running a business for 28+ years, or raising kids, or being married for 32 years. Nothing was harder for me, and that is why I had avoided it. But the crisis of my marriage left me no choice.

Now my work on myself had nothing really to do with my wife. You see, I was convinced that my wife was clinically depressed, and wouldn’t seek help. And she had EVERY reason to be depressed based upon her situation. But I couldn’t/can’t do a damn thing to “fix” or change her.

In my head I was playing the victim. She was the problem, and she wouldn’t fix herself, what was I to do? Work on myself, that’s what. There came a time, that I was convinced my wife was going to divorce me. I remember sitting in my truck and being overcome with fear (I was still medicated mind you). I started thinking about what that would look like without her. I didn’t want it, but for the first time in my married life, I realized that I would survive.

The Decision

So my marriage is good, my business is good, why go off the drugs? Well, my daughter was my inspiration. She is a figurative oil painter, brilliant artist, and as she puts it, raw dogs life. No alcohol, no nicotine, no anti-depressants. Yes, it’s messy, but what inspired me is her creative energy. I didn’t have that anymore.

Three weeks ago, I weaned myself off the SSRI. I almost immediately noticed the familiar increase in irritability. The difference is that I have the emotional capacity to deal with it. I don’t let the irritability morph into anger.

Then last week I noticed the shift in my creativity. My energy was off the charts. LOTS of new ideas. I had to start writing them down to keep track of them. Where had this been? Suppressed is the answer. The SSRI did it’s job, but it was a blanket for my emotions. ALL of my emotions, and creative brain waves. Before when I had gone off the drugs, I didn’t have the capacity to move past the negative to enjoy the positive. It was a lot like flying. Once you get over the terror that you are indeed flying, and that only you are going to get you back on the ground safely, it’s pretty damn cool. You get to see things no one else gets to, because you’re fully alive.

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