Get Ready for the Fall

What causes someone, anyone - even a person who appears to possess energy, resilience, and strength - to succumb to a 'nervous breakdown'? If you're interested in the professionals' view, then by all means Google the question and you'll find many answers.

Common to many of those answers, however, are a few factors which include genetic makeup and environmental backgrounds (see previous post, Roots), continuous high levels of stress, anxiety, and depression. Other factors can include alcohol and drug abuse, isolation, and trauma.

In my case, they included many of the above. But because I'm trying to share my particular breakdown, and not those experienced by others, I need to again step back a bit in time.

While I live in Ireland, I am not Irish. I moved here many years ago. At the time of the move, and because of my background, I was convinced that I could live almost anywhere. I was wrong. For over three years all I thought about was moving back home. Of friends and family that I missed dearly. Of places and people and things that I desperately wanted back in my life.

Too, living in a 'foreign' country was an experience which I soon discovered I had trouble coping with. At the time, the county was in recession. We had little money. But we also had bills that I found hard to meet. In the end, and despite the recession, I managed to get a job. I was scared to death because I felt completely out of my depth. A few years later I set up a company with a partner who turned out to be a crook. The business soon failed leaving me with a mountain of debt. At the same time, I was having difficulties with my marriage. We separated. At that point I had - and still have - three children. I missed them terribly.

I was scared shit-less.

In desperation, and wanting to make certain that we could all survive, I set up a company again, this time on my own. I worked my arse off. Over the next twenty years, I branched out. I became partners in another operation. This meant that I was managing two businesses. Simultaneously, I started writing creatively. But I also knew that something was still very wrong. Foremost was the fact that I missed my wife and children. I became very good at beating myself up, telling myself how the separation was completely my fault. I know now that any relationship has problems, and problems must be shared. But I didn't then. I only remember thinking that something was broken inside of me, something that I tried desperately to fix, but couldn't. My hands began to shake, slow tremors that would last an hour or more. Concentration at times became difficult. But I ignored it. Instead, I was determined to do everything that I could to get my family back.

This took place over 20 years ago. At that time, and in hindsight, I think I was near a breakdown. I feel that the reasons I escaped then was the fact that I was also 20 years younger, in better general health, and had the resilience that is possessed by the young.

Through hard work and a variety of decisions, my family and I got back together. Determined to make it all up to them, I worked even harder. The small businesses that I managed continued to grow. I began working over 12 hours a day. And I knew that on many levels, and because of my workload, I was missing the best years of fatherhood. I could not attend as many of my kids' school events as I wanted, nor talk to them as much, or help them with their homework, or enjoy stress-less holidays. I felt guilty about this, and that guilt grew.

At the same time, and like a fool, I decided to try my best to action my dream - the dream of going home permanently again. As mentioned above, I had started to write creatively. A couple of those projects were actually published or produced on the screen to much greater success than I could have hoped for. And while the money wasn't great, the hope of success populated my waking dreams.

That dream went something like this: "I'm going to write a screenplay that's going to be great. This will be picked up by a production company for a quarter of a million. Then I'll write the book to go with the screenplay. That will do just as well. And then, well, I'll have a franchise and I can quit working as hard, and we'll have enough money put by so that we'll never be poor. We can all go home, but my wife can keep the house here, and she can come back anytime she wants. This way, we both win."

It was a ridiculous dream, of course. One that put immense and unnecessary pressure on me. I worked every day at the businesses sometimes for 12 hours a day. I would then work weekends on the screenplays or books. I was nuts and everyone knew it but me. I pushed myself, pushed and pushed and pushed. When I was exhausted and wanted a break, I'd yell at myself to get back in the saddle and do more. I had become obsessed - not with success. Not even with money. I was obsessed with the fear that drove me so hard. Fear of failure. Fear of being broke. Fear of never making it back home. Fear of letting down my family yet again.

Add that stress of work to my background. Add both of those to the high expectations that I had of myself. And mix all of that with the constant fear that enveloped me like a dark glove and you'll understand that I was positioning myself for a fall too horrific for me to imagine.

Then a few years ago my mother died. Her passing almost destroyed me. I felt that I had let her down horribly. And on some levels I had. I had grown up to be her protector. Yet her protector couldn't save her from death. I flew back to Florida, to where she would be cremated and buried. I was ready to break.

But not yet. Not quite yet. Instead, I went home and buried myself in my work By late 2009 I was again experiencing hand tremors. I didn't know it then, but all I needed was one or two more incidents that would break the camel's back, and I would fall off the edge of the world.