Learning to Fly: A story about overcoming depression

by David E Forrester

  ‘Did you ever show anyone these stories or songs?’ Gabriel asked.

  ‘I performed a song for music class once, when I was around fifteen or sixteen, I think. The teacher loved it, but my classmates not so much. Some of the boys started calling me ‘sensitive Petey’ and I ended up getting into a fight over it. My parents were called up to the school…’

  ‘And how did they react?’

  ‘My mum just sighed and kept quiet. My dad asked me two questions…’

  ‘And they were?’

  ‘“Did you start it?” And I answered, “No.” He then asked, “Did you finish it?” And I answered, “Yes.” And that was the end of it. I gave up writing right after that,’ Pete added.

  ‘Maybe you should start writing again. It could be a good hobby for stress relief,’ Gabriel suggested.

  ‘I doubt that I have the time,’ Pete said.

  ‘But journaling for even half an hour a day could really help you manage your stress levels. From what you’ve just told me using your creativity seems to really help you deal with your depression,’ Gabriel said.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ Pete replied in a tone that told Gabriel to drop it.

  After a moment Gabriel said, ‘OK, so let’s talk about the Monster again. Has it changed as you’ve got older?’

  ‘What do you mean? Got bigger and meaner and hairier? Hell Gabriel, I’ve already told you I don’t know what it looks like. I just know it’s not a freaking Pokémon!’

  Gabriel had not seen Pete so agitated and acted quickly to calm him down. ‘I’m sorry Pete. I didn’t mean to insult you. I mean has your depression impacted you in different ways as you’ve got older?’

  Pete sighed and closed his eyes. He did some brief breathing exercises to calm himself down. ‘I’m sorry Gabriel. I don’t know why talking about this stuff makes me so angry.’ He paused. ‘Yes, the Monster has changed.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘When I was young, I could simply stay away from people and wait it out. It would get tired and go away. But as I grew older, it became stronger and more resilient, so I had to start doing things to make it go away, like go for a walk in the wheat or a run outside or do some writing; “use my creativity” as you would say,’ Pete said and paused to acknowledge Gabriel’s earlier suggestion. He then continued, ‘But now I’m resisting the Monster, it’s as if it’s fighting back in an insidious way.’

  ‘What do you mean by insidious?’ Gabriel asked curiously.

  Pete chose he words carefully. ‘Sometimes it feels as though the Monster’s asking me to stop fighting, relax and give in, as if it would be easier and more comfortable that way. Like it’s trying to seduce me.’ Pete gave Gabriel a musing look and added, ‘How’s that for feeling sorry for yourself?’

  Gabriel sat quietly observing Pete in deep thought as Pete waited for a reaction.

  20

  Imaginary friends

  After a few seconds of silence, Gabriel nodded and said, ‘Well that explains a lot and it’s sort of what I expected.’

  Pete was disappointed by Gabriel’s lack of surprise. ‘What do you mean expected?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I sort of had a plan coming into tonight’s session. We got where we needed to go, but via a rather circuitous route. I even thought you might hit me at one stage. Thank you for not doing that by the way.’

  Pete felt a little betrayed. ‘You mean this was all an act?’

  ‘It wasn’t acting. I just knew I had to push your buttons a little to see how you’d react. Think of it as a physician poking about to see where the pain is and asking what the symptoms are, so he can make a diagnosis. I just wanted to make sure we’ve been pursuing the right course of treatment and it seems we have.’

  Even though he understood the reasoning behind Gabriel’s methods, Pete still felt annoyed. But his curiosity overcame his urge to sulk. ‘So, what’s the diagnosis then doc?’

  ‘I suspect you have a condition known as dysthymia,’ Gabriel answered.

  ‘Dysthymia?! Sounds like a venereal disease,’ Pete observed.

  Gabriel let out a laugh. ‘It’s a long-lasting, but mild form of depression that under the wrong circumstances can turn into severe depression. What I find interesting in your case is that people with dysthymia usually struggle dealing with uncertainty, it’s one of the things that can often bring on depressive episodes.’

  Pete looked at Gabriel, puzzled. ‘And why’s that so interesting?’

  Gabriel was surprised by Pete’s question. ‘Pete, for whatever reason, you chose a career in foreign exchange trading, which tries to make money out of uncertainty. Doesn’t that strike you as a little odd given what I’ve just told you?’

  Pete chuckled as he saw Gabriel’s point. ‘So, does that make me subconsciously suicidal?’ Pete quipped.

  Gabriel ignored Pete’s joke. ‘I’m just surprised it took you this long to seek help for depression. I’m guessing that’s because until recently you’ve been doing a pretty good job at managing it yourself.’ Gabriel paused. He was about to assign Pete his most difficult homework yet. ‘Pete, there was something else I got from our…’ Gabriel searched for the appropriate word, ‘…exchange.’

  ‘And that was…?’ Pete inquired.

  Gabriel leaned forward and took on a softer tone. ‘Pete, I’ve noticed that when you talk about dealing with your depression, you say you’ve always done it alone. Have you ever had a friend you could talk to about it?’ Gabriel asked.

  ‘I talk to Liz about it,’ Pete answered quickly.

  ‘Yes, but does Liz hear the things I hear? Or does Liz fully understand the stresses of working in the markets or becoming a father?’ Gabriel probed.

  Pete thought for a few moments. ‘No, but I’ve started talking to you,’ he observed.

  ‘I’m your therapist, not your friend. There’s a big difference,’ Gabriel replied.

  ‘So, what’re you saying? I need to go and find a man friend I can talk to about this stuff?’ Pete queried.

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ Gabriel answered.

  ‘But I’m uncomfortable talking about this stuff to you. How am I supposed to do that with someone I know? They could go blabbing it to the market for starters,’ Pete said.

  ‘You don’t have to talk about the same things we do. But you should talk about the stresses of being a man in your situation. You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself trying to deal with this alone. A friend who understands your situation could offer advice and help alleviate some of the stress,’ Gabriel explained.

  ‘Sounds like you’re asking me to find an AA sponsor,’ he said derisively.

  ‘Hmmm, not quite. But something like that. Someone who can understand and relate to your work life and home life. Someone you can bitch to about Liz giving you a hard time or a salesperson being a bastard,’ Gabriel added with a smile.

  Pete sat back and thought for a bit. ‘I would have to at least tell this person about my depression, right?’

  ‘Ideally yes, but you wouldn’t have to get into much more detail than that. You just need someone who gets your situation and who you can decompress with,’ Gabriel said.

  While Pete still felt little uncomfortable, his mind settled on one person. ‘I guess I can do that,’ he said.

  21

  Real friends, part 1

  Pete sat on a stool at a bar table waiting for Roger to arrive. He became nervous as he recalled the time Roger had told him about his father teaching him how to butcher a sheep and began to second guess his choice of friend to talk to about his depression. ‘I was about fourteen when my old man took me out to the shed where he’d been keepin’ a pair of sheep he was fixin’ to butcher,’ Roger had said. ‘He grabbed a knife, straddled one of the sheep and locked it tight between his knees. Then he grabbed it under the chin, pulled its head back and quickly ran the knife across its throat. Then he held out the bloodied knife for me to take and said, “Hurry up and do yours before it wakes u
p to what’s goin’ on. I’ll watch yah and then we can get ’em gutted and strung up quick smart.”’

  The image made Pete shudder as he saw Roger come in the door. He stood up and waved at Roger, who waved back and laboriously made his way over to the table. Roger was a heavyset man who had played rugby in his youth, but once he retired, he let himself go to seed. ‘Hey Moggy, long time no see. You been too busy working for that promotion or has the missus been keeping you away from me?’ Roger asked as he gave Pete a solid handshake.

  ‘Hi Rog. Bit of both actually. Work’s a bitch, with most of the action happening in London and New York, so lately I’ve been trading a bit in their hours. And Liz bans me from drinking around the times we’re trying for number two.’

  Roger grinned. ‘Been getting some brewer’s droop, eh?’ he said, playfully elbowing Pete in the ribs.

  Pete winced a little in pain. ‘Nah, Liz just wants to make sure my swimmers don’t get drunk and can swim in the right direction,’ Pete joked as they sat down.

  ‘How is Liz?’ Roger asked.

  ‘Driving me nuts with her reproductive cycle. I get just two shots a month. The rest of the time, she fobs me off as if it’s a waste of time. I swear, I used to get more action when we weren’t trying,’ Pete complained.

  Roger groaned. ‘I wish I had such problems.’

  ‘So how are Cheryl and May?’ Pete inquired.

  ‘Cheryl’s still at me to lose weight and get healthy. Telling me that I need to be around for the grandkids and that sort of stuff. The only time a get a break is when her and May at each other like a pair of Kilkenny cats. Say, what do you want to drink?’ Roger asked, signalling a bartender. ‘I could use one after that bloody Reserve Bank of New Zealand meeting this morning. Don’t they know they’re raising rates for no reason? Like a lot of other countries in the world, New Zealand’s got low inflation and all of a sudden they think it’s going to magically go higher for them.’

  ‘Well they’re your bros, eh?’ Pete said in a mock Kiwi accent. ‘I’ll have a Kiwi pinot thanks bro,’ he added cheekily.

  Roger ignored Pete’s mockery and gave him a puzzled look. ‘Pinot? Trying to dress up your image before becoming a boss?’

  ‘Nah mate. Liz’s got onto me about my health and made me go gluten-free. So, no beer,’ Pete explained.

  ‘No wonder you’re looking so skinny. What’d yah eat then? Roots and vegetables?’ Roger asked, then, ‘Hey, doesn’t your family grow wheat?’

  Pete nodded. ‘Yep, sure do.’

  Roger chuckled. ‘Bloody hypocrite!’

  Pete laughed. ‘I have no answer to that,’ he replied as an attractive female bartender arrived.

  ‘Hi…’ Roger looked down at the server’s name tag, ‘…Janice. My fruity friend here will have a glass of your New Zealand pinot and I’ll have a Steinlager, please.’

  They settled in to wait for their drinks. ‘So, how’s the market been treating you?’ Roger asked.

  ‘I had a rough start to the year when Putin did his crazy Cossack dance into Crimea. And since then, I’ve been day-trading and making money where I can. I’m on course to make budget this year and I’m happy enough with that. What about you?’ Pete replied.

  ‘Yeah, Putin screwed me too. So, I’ve just been jobbing in and out of the market and making smalls where I can. I’m not shootin’ the lights out, but like you, I’m just happy making budget,’ Roger said.

  Janice returned with their drinks. ‘One pinot and one Steinlager. Shall I open up a tab gentlemen?’ she asked with another smile.

  Pete reached for his wallet, but Roger held out his hand. ‘Nah bro. I’m paying tonight. You paid last time.’ Roger handed his credit card to the bartender.

  Janice reached into her pocket and gave Roger a marker. ‘Thank you, sir. Let me know when you need any more drinks or some food,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Will do,’ Roger replied and watched her walk gracefully away.

  Pete held up his wine glass. ‘Thanks for picking up the tab and here’s to day-trading. A tough way to make a living,’ Pete offered as a toast.

  Roger tapped the neck of his bottle gently against Pete’s wine glass. ‘But it sure beats the hell out of taking the heads off sheep or wheat,’ he rejoined.

  ‘It sure does,’ Pete replied before taking a sip of his wine.

  ‘So, we’re both drinking Kiwi produce tonight,’ Pete observed.

  ‘Yeah, we’d better drink it while we can afford to. The way the RBNZ’s hiking rates, the Kiwi dollar’s going to the moon and the price of this stuff’s going along with it,’ Roger lamented.

  ‘You sound more bitter than usual Rog. Did the RBNZ screw you this morning?’ Pete asked sympathetically.

  ‘Yeah, I sold the Kiwi going into the meeting thinking they could signal they’re done hiking for now. Instead they just kept crying, “Inflation is coming, inflation is coming!”’ Roger took a gulp from his beer.

  ‘I got hurt a little this morning, too, but that was because of a stupid salesperson rather than my own trading,’ Pete said grumpily.

  ‘So what happened?’

  Pete sighed. ‘A salesperson brought me an order one bloody minute out from the decision. The client wanted to buy the Kiwi, so I sold them to him and got caught short like you.’

  Roger looked disapprovingly at Pete and asked, ‘Why didn’t you just make a spread so wide that the client went away? You’ve got to remember, Moggy, your first obligation is to the Trading Desk and then the franchise. Because without a Trading Desk—’

  ‘There is no franchise,’ Pete said, completing Roger’s sentence. ‘I know, but it’s just that I’m under a lot of pressure to make Sales happy and keep myself in the running for a promotion.’

  Roger nodded knowingly. ‘Yeah, they’ll dangle that carrot in front of you all year.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Pete conceded. ‘But Rog, how am I meant to protect the Desk and make Sales happy?’

  ‘Pete, you’ll never make Sales happy. There’ll always be some critical business they’ve missed because of your bad pricing. What you have to do is just make sure that they can’t say anything bad about you personally. Then if you’re making money, all the rest they say will just be noise.’

  ‘Is that from personal experience?’ Pete asked curiously and took another drink from his glass.

  Roger shifted in his seat and gave Pete a look as if assessing whether he could trust him. ‘Pete, how long have we known each other?’ he queried.

  ‘A bit over two years,’ Pete answered.

  Roger leaned forward, and Pete could sense that the conversation was becoming more serious. ‘Pete, before we met, I was at another bank. And let’s just say I left before the politics got the better of me. And it was a good thing too, because it was a real shit show not long after I left. I recommend you do the same if you think things are swinging against you.’

  ‘Things were bad with Sales a few months ago, but they’re fine now,’ Pete said.

  ‘You sure about that?’ Roger asked and took a gulp of his beer.

  ‘Not entirely.’

  ‘Well I recommend you find out for sure,’ Roger said and then turned to signal to Janice. ‘Do you want another fruity cocktail?’ Roger asked.

  ‘Nah, I’ll nurse this one a little while longer,’ Pete replied and drew a curious look from Roger.

  ‘What can I get you gentlemen?’ Janice asked.

  ‘Same again for me please, Janice,’ Roger replied.

  ‘Sure,’ Janice said and hurried off.

  An awkward silence fell. Neither of them seemed to know where to go next with their conversation after it had probed uncharted waters. Pete decided to speak up first. ‘So, Rog, you’ve been in the game longer than me—’

  ‘Yeah, don’t remind me,’ Roger interrupted.

  ‘Well you seem to be doing OK. You’re still married and haven’t had a heart attack. How are you beating the odds?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Well for starters, Ch
eryl hasn’t divorced me, yet. And my health, well that’s a ticking time bomb, but I’d never admit that to her,’ Roger replied. ‘But seriously Pete. What’s with all the gloomy Gus questions?’

  Janice arrived and swapped Roger’s empty bottle for a full one. ‘There you go gentlemen. Are we ready for food yet?’ she asked, giving them a smile.

  Roger looked at Pete, who shook his head. Pete wanted to get on with the conversation while he had the courage and didn’t want to spend five minutes talking about what food to order. ‘Not quite yet. Thanks Janice,’ Roger said.

  Pete waited a beat and then quickly looked around to make sure no one was within earshot of the table. ‘Rog, I can trust you, right?’

  Roger leaned forward and said, ‘Yeah sure. What, you thinking of jumping ship?’

  ‘No, I wish things were that simple,’ Pete replied. ‘Rog, what I’m about to tell you, you really need to keep to yourself. If it got into the market, it’d be the end of me.’

  Roger’s face took on a sombre look. ‘Pete, if you’re going to tell me that you’ve breached compliance or done something dodgy, you’d best stop now. Because we both know I’d have to dob you in. Otherwise, when you get caught, the cops would come after me too.’

  Pete was taken aback. ‘No, nothing like that. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about,’ Pete assured Roger.

  ‘OK then, enough cloak and dagger, what is it?’ Roger asked, growing impatient.

  Pete took a breath, ‘I’m depressed Rog, like really depressed.’

  Roger let out a huff. ‘Hell Pete, we’re all depressed. The market’s been crap since the Crisis, so there ain't nothin’ to be happy about.’

  Even though several months had passed since his balcony experience, Pete still had to force himself to look Roger in the eye, as the emotional wound from it was still raw. ‘Rog, I mean clinically depressed. A few months back, I was on my balcony and ready to jump.’