This was never a place where I was going to talk about deep personal feelings.
Comments on the sports world, the occasional foray into politics, the arts? Sure, because each of those topics, even if we have opinions on them, are still subjects of outside observation.
Yet it’s always difficult and dangerous to undergo too much self-examination here, for who knows what people will do about your sense of vulnerability and sensitivity.
Then something happens and there’s no choice but to talk about it, because if it helps even one soul that reads this, it’s well worth it.
One day, Grayson Murray is breaking par in the first round of a PGA Tour event in Fort Worth, Texas. The next day, after a series of bogeys, he walks off the course and withdraws. The next morning, he takes his own life in his Florida home.
He was 30 years old.
Just four months earlier, Murray had won a tournament in Hawaii and openly talked about how he had dealt with anxiety, depression and substance abuse, and it looked to the outside world that he was addressing those challenges.
What happened only reminded us (if we need the reminder) that none of us truly know, understand, or comprehend the lives of others if we only get brief, periodic, and public glimpses into them.
And if that is true, then you can bet that all of our lives are full of complexities and issues. Some get resolved. Others remain and linger. None of this means we’re weak or helpless.
Here is where the personal part kicks in.
Since childhood, on and off I’ve gone through therapy. At first, and through my youth and adolescence, it was dealing with issues of anger and social discomfort, of reacting badly when getting teased.
When as an adult I resumed this therapy, it was because it was apparent to almost everyone in my orbit, especially my family, that I was battling depression.
True, I had mostly learned to control my outbursts through lots of hard work and the added element of personal faith. Still, all the aspects of my life left plenty to feel sad and insecure about.
Needless to say they aren’t fully resolved, and might never reach a point of resolution. But the mere fact that I acknowledge them and try to make things better has improved my quality of life.
It has also allowed me to gain a greater appreciation and empathy for all those in life undergoing similar struggles, whether they admit to it or not. Many in the public eye do so, but far more do not, and it’s understandable.
Especially in the years since the COVID pandemic, there’s been a large increase in mental health awareness. Thank goodness. We should all understand that maintaining our mental health is as important as physical health.
Still, society took a long, long time to get to this point. The idea of openly talking about depression, anxiety and related illnesses was long considered a liability, for people (mostly men) seemed to think, and many still do, the only real strength comes from brawn and toughness.
Turns out, though, that we got it all wrong. The most apparent reality is that those who talk the loudest, and boast the most about how tough they are, betray total weakness beneath that veneer.
Maybe it’s time we celebrate and highlight all of the qualities within us. Not just our talents and gifts, but also the places where we could use some help, whatever form it may take.
Think of how many lives can be changed, and how many more lives can be saved, simply by feeling free to admit our faults to each other without fear of losing anything because of it.
Failing this, the least we can do is be nice to family, friends and strangers alike, for it might not change your day, but it could change theirs, and perhaps even more.
As humans, we are all capable of astonishing amounts of grace. You could even call it amazing. If we grant it to ourselves while spreading that same quality all around us, pain and grief will not disappear, but we can manage the hurt and, more importantly, heal each other.
