Removing The Armor
MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS GUEST BLOG
By: Jeff Smith
When I was a kid, I remember being pretty sensitive. I was relatively popular in school, but went through phases of being incredibly shy and straddling the line that separated the “cool” kids from the others. One thing that sticks out more vividly than anything else though was the need to feel included. I wanted the validation that people liked me, and when they didn’t or made fun of me, it was truly crushing to my emotional state.
Throughout college and into my early professional career, I developed an emotional armor to suppress my emotions. I never wanted to be as vulnerable as I was when I was young because all I remembered was getting hurt when I tried to be vulnerable. And we’re talking A LOT. I even remember thinking to myself, “I am finally in control of it all!” I learned to believe that crying, vulnerability, spirituality, and especially self-doubt, were excuses weak people made to explain their struggles. I had become a bulldozer in a human body that was running out of mental steam. I just didn’t know it yet.
When the first panic attack came, I was convinced it was my heart. Something was wrong with my cardiac system (runs in the family) and it was finally my time to discover (too late of course) that I had some rare aortic defect that would be my demise. However, test after test came back negative.
When the ER nurse (yep, took the ambulance and everything) suggested I might be overly anxious or depressed, I sobbed uncontrollably for hours in stark self-awareness. Deep down I knew she was right. I was a bottled up web of anxiety, depression and self-doubt. The armor I thought had been protecting my psyche was really a shrinking cage that was about to crush my ability to cope with the world and relationships around me.
After a visit to a psychiatrist and psychologist, it was clear; I was clinically prone to severe anxiety, claustrophobia and depression. The depths of what I waded through during that first year of therapy was scary, profound and ultimately life changing. The armor that had become a cage slowly eroded and began to fall off piece by piece. The more I talked about my experience and challenges with others, the more connected I felt to the world and humanity. It felt like I had returned to the somewhat awkward, lovable kid again. This was such an incredible feeling because for the first time, I finally felt proud of that kid (i.e. me), as opposed to ashamed.
Society and the workplace can be a ruthless grind. The more we acknowledge we aren’t invincible, the more room there is for empathy, spirituality and kindness. As I’ve grown older, my own success and wellness has not been tied to being a poster-boy of a toxic societal unwillingness to feel; rather it has grown from kindness, reflection and a true desire to get to know what others are struggling with. I think that’s pretty awesome.
As a recruiter, I rely on my ability to connect with others every day. My career, and probably my life to some extent, were very much in jeopardy the first 1-2 years after being diagnosed. However, had I not experienced the panic attacks, sleepless nights and dissociative episodes, it wouldn’t have opened the door for me to share my struggles with others as a means for my own self-improvement.
My ability to be vulnerable about my own mental waltzes has allowed others an avenue to confide in, which has strengthened multiple bonds I have with some amazing people, both professionally and personally. I have a roof over my head, a great job, an unbelievable (and accepting) wife, a smiley, curious 15 month old son and a barky six pound maltipoo. I also have anxiety and depression. The latter will always be there, and another panic attack or weekend spent in bed crying is sure to come, but boy, am I happy I don’t have all that armor to weigh me down when that ocean comes calling.
Ultimately, for me, I have found healing in opening up and sharing my story with others. Yes, I take medication. It’s something I’ve tried to live without, but my unique wiring requires it along with continued therapy. In my opinion, my strongest medicine has been the connections I’ve made by letting my guard down. I like talking about my anxiety and depression because it makes me less anxious and depressed. I’m not alone, and neither is anyone else out there. Find your door, open it up and see what you discover.
Jeff currently serves as the Vice President of Managed Recruitment Programs at Hirewell where he and his team help companies get through complex talent acquisition projects. He has been in the recruiting & HR industry for 15 years on both sides of the aisle (agency and corporate) and still loves the thrill of placing a great candidate with a great client.
Outside of work, Jeff is a dedicated music fan and most likely has some sort of Phish related flare on right now. He collects vinyl, gratuitously quotes the Big Lebowski, loves to travel and cheers for the 11 time Stanley Cup Champion Detroit Red Wings.
A native of metro Detroit, Jeff currently lives in the Chicago burbs with his lovely, supportive wife, 15-month old son and dog, Frankie.