When backs break

We all know by now of the untimely death of Australian actor Heath Ledger of Brokeback Mountain fame.

It’s truly tragic. And sad. May God bless his soul.

And although reports on the circumstances of his death remain at least for now speculative, what’s sadder is that he died from an apparent overdose of anti-anxiety pills.

I have always been against these types of drugs. Drugs that psychiatrists prescribe. And mainly because I almost got “hooked” on such anti-depressant drugs myself in the late 90s.

I was going through a major crisis in my life. I felt that everyone was ganging up on me. To quote the Paul Williams song, it was “you and me against the world.” Except in my case, there was no “you.” Just “me” … and not just “sometimes” but all the time.

Family, friends and my former significant other tried to help. But I refused to be helped. I chose to remain at home, with only my dog as company for most of the day, and spent the time staring at the wall or mindlessly playing computer games on my Mac SE.

There were no affordable broadband internet services back then. And no Facebook. Nor blogspot. There were no available online distractions to keep my mind away from my worries. Worries which at the beginning may have been real but which soon evolved to exaggerated and even imagined levels.

I was convinced into seeing a psychiatrist. Who immediately prescribed drugs whose names I can no longer recall.

I took the drugs. And got immediate relief. I was so “out of it” that I couldn’t even remember that I had issues to deal with. The drugs were definitely a narcotic. A temporary respite from the problems of this world.

But my worries never went away. Especially when the “high” wore off. So I became dependent on them. I was an addict.

And so instead of helping me deal with my problems, I ended up having an even bigger addiction problem. And did my original worries disappear through therapy and medication? No, things got worse. I lost my job. I lost all my money. I lost my significant other. And now I was a druggie.

It was my late father who eventually helped me snap out of my chronic depression. He distracted me. Gave me new responsibilities. Gave me time. Gave me other things to think about.

And he made me see beyond myself. He made me see that if I longed to be loved, I had to de-focus from my own selfish self and selflessly focus on loving others. Most of all, God, who is Love Himself.

“Mahalin mo na lang,” was his favorite saying. Focus not on what others are doing to you. Focus on what you can do for them. Not an original thought definitely, but it’s a certified depression buster.

I finally got rid of my depression blues when my father suffered a heart attack and eventually died in 2000. Even in sickness, even in death, he was teaching me that Charity was the best path to a depression-less life. It’s a difficult road, yes. But to struggle, to persevere on this track, despite the bumpy road, will surely lead all of us to where we are all meant to be. In heaven, with God, where we will forever be free of all worries and issues.