Becoming involved

A 10-DAY JOURNEY INTO MY 60TH BIRTHDAY CONTINUES IN ITS LAST FIVE DAYS. 

 I’m assuming I’m not the only one who has had watershed moments. Moments when the road forks and you take the right one or you don’t. When what happens next is so important that you somehow know it at the time.

My first of many came when I decided, for reasons I absolutely can’t remember, to run for student senator at Meridian Junior College.

My freshman year had been a complete washout. I did little, had little fun, was so shy I couldn’t eat with others, and was generally on my way to nothing town.

Then I decided I would run for senator. I honestly don’t remember even knowing what senator was, but I wanted to get over some losses in my young life, so there I went. I campaigned. I spoke to crowds, including a bunch of nurses once. I won.

And slowly but surely I came out of my hard but comfortable turtle’s shell.

Then one day I ran into the sports editor of the Meridian Star, one Orley Hood, who I had known a couple of years earlier when he was an assistant, and Orley asked if I was still interested in writing for newspapers. I said sure, although I hadn’t thought of it in a while, and the rest of my life began in a hallway outside of a gym at MJC.

I was elected president of the Young Republicans. I was involved suddenly in a Christian club called Youth for Christ. I was suddenly involved.

It was my finest year of school after Northeast Lauderdale, and I owed it to making a decision that I would get over my depression, shyness, introverted-ness and get on with life.

I          I’ve read since that getting past depression requires action. But taking action when you’re depressed is hard. In fact, just thinking about the things you should do to feel better, like going for a walk or spending time with friends, can be exhausting.

It’s the Catch-22 of depression recovery: The things that help the most are the things that are the most difficult to do. There’s a difference, however, between something that's difficult and something that's impossible.

The key to depression recovery is to start with a few small goals and slowly build from there. Draw upon whatever resources you have. You may not have much energy, but you probably have enough to take a short walk around the block or something of that order.

I was given the No. 60 draft number and I was sure I was going to be picked to go to Vietnam, which was winding down rapidly. So, I joined the Navy. The night before I headed to Jackson for my induction, I preached (spoke, wandered) for about 10 minutes at my local church. Basically as I recall, I asked for everyone to pray for me. I was scared grits-less.

I left the church and drove to the induction station. The next morning, we had scrambled eggs. I didn’t like they yellow of eggs. I was told to eat them. I ate them.

At the end of the series of tables that we were to sit at as we headed to who knows what, they noticed I had marked a box that said I had had stomach problems. I had had an ulcer at the half of a basketball game as a senior in high school. They told me I couldn’t go because of that.

Let me say that I didn’t complain. Whew.

 As the school year progressed, I found that taking things one day at a time and rewarding myself for each accomplishment really helped. The steps were small, but they’ll quickly added up. And for all the energy I put into  depression recovery, I got back much more in return. Suddenly it seemed, I was over my first love. It only took months.

I was alive. I was capable. I was involved in so many facets of school life, and even church life.

But it was clearly a double standard because I was drinking with the guys more and more, new guys, guys who drank a lot. In the fall of 1972, we went to our first New Orleans Saints game, and we drank the whole weekend. We had parties on the weekends, and parties on the week nights.

Once I crashed my car through a few large bushes as I tried to drive home after the school nearly defeated Gulf Coast Community College for the first time. My father had to come pick me up because I had two blown tires.

Growing up was, uh, a lot like growing into him, my earthly father.

OPERATOR
JIM CROCE

But isn't that the way they say it goes
Well let's forget all that
And give me the number if you can find it
So I can call just to tell 'em I'm fine, and to show
I've overcome the blow
I've learned to take it well
I only wish my words
Could just convince myself
That it just wasn't real
But that's not the way it feels

BROWN EYED GIRL
VAN MORRISON

Whatever happened
To Tuesday and so slow
Going down to the old mine with a
Transistor radio.
Standing in the sunlight laughing
Hide behind a rainbow's wall,
Slipping and a-sliding
All along the waterfall
With you, my brown-eyed girl,
You, my brown-eyed girl.