Section 1.1: Seeking Help

“I believe it’s time for me to consult with Nicole.”

“You're feeling quite overwhelmed, aren't you?”

Who is Nicole? She’s my go-to mental health expert.

Dealing with Tourette syndrome, obsessive-compulsive disorder, general anxiety disorder, and occasionally depression and social anxiety, I often joke that I should have a team of specialists. Yet, I rely solely on Nicole. While she isn't a psychiatrist, her skills closely resemble one. Nicole is a nurse practitioner who oversees my psychotropic medications, while another nurse practitioner, Tracy, handles the rest of my prescriptions.

Does it seem like I’m taking a lot of pills daily? You’re right. Along with the medication for Tourette syndrome and two for anxiety and OCD, I’m also on medication for high blood pressure, cholesterol, and iron. If I could choose one to eliminate, it would undoubtedly be the iron. I can’t stand it. I take it in the morning, sometimes during breakfast, sometimes afterward. There seems to be no pattern; occasionally, I just feel awful. The iron tends to backtrack and settle uncomfortably in my throat, creating a sense of unease. My forehead beads with sweat, and I feel a slight nausea that can persist for hours.

During a walk around our neighborhood, Susan asked, “When you say you feel bad, what’s that sensation like?” I struggled to articulate it.

“I’m not sure. Maybe anxiety? A sense of dread? It’s a tightness in my chest. I feel on edge.” Susan enjoys listening to podcasts from two Buddhist instructors who advocate for exploring one’s emotions until the root cause is discovered. She nudged me gently, but not for long. “Unsurprisingly, my blog plays a part in this.”

Susan assumed I was referring to my obsession with blog statistics. I would have agreed yesterday, but today I gained some insight. “My blog doesn’t distract me as it once did. The blogging community has dwindled significantly.”

Distraction. At work, I feel fine because there’s plenty to occupy my mind. However, once I get home, I search for something to engage in. My previous engagement was my blog—reading, commenting, responding. Now, many, if not most, have moved on.

“I believe you’re at a crossroads. It’s time to find something to fill the gap left by your blog.” I don’t require Nicole’s help or an adjustment of my medications; I just need to talk to my wife. “When do you feel your best?” That was a loaded question; she already knows the answer: when I’m out running. “But you can’t run every day; it could lead to injury. You could really benefit from some deep breathing exercises.”

After our conversation, I felt uplifted, and that feeling persisted for hours. Perhaps Susan is onto something, and I have nothing to lose by trying. I plan to incorporate deep breathing into my morning weightlifting routine to see if I can replicate the calm I experience while running. As for finding a substitute for the void left by WordPress, that may take some time.

What do you think? Did this piece resonate? I’ve settled into a somewhat uncharacteristic writing style. I’m feeling disoriented. I finally resorted to using eye patches to address my double vision. Navigating the world with one eye is unsettling, and I’ve noticed it has affected my spelling. The ever-present red, squiggly underline has been a constant reminder of this struggle.

About Jeff Cann

Jeff Cann resides in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where he writes and works. His essays and stories focus on mental health, running, and culture, having been published in various periodicals. His books, "Fragments: A Memoir" and "Bad Ass — My Quest to Become a Back Woods Trail Runner (and other obsessive goals)," are available on Amazon. Jeff is married and has two children. More of his work can be found at www.jefftcann.com.