Thursday is usually the most difficult day of my week and today had been worse than usual. I turned into my driveway a little after 10:00 p.m. and as I locked my car and headed toward the door I thought I heard the phone ringing. I hurried into the house and made my way into the kitchen fending off the insistent demands for affection from Max my morbidly obese neurotic Pug. There were the usual phone messages from family, friends, telemarketers and others but the last message was different. His voice was warm and patrician in tone yet his message was urgent and tinged with just a hint of panic. He left no name but only a phone number and a plea for me to call him immediately. With a sigh of resignation, I dialed the number. On the eighth ring he answered with that same warm articulate voice. “Dr. Griffith?” “Yes, this is Dr. Griffith”, I answered. “I apologize for calling you so late, Dr. Griffith, but I need your help.” He continued briefly with his request to speak with me and asked if I could meet him at my office in half an hour. I hesitated. His was an unusual request and I was not in the practice of meeting with people alone after office hours. Yet I sensed even more clearly than before the quiet desperation in his voice. I agreed to meet him and as I hung up the phone, I realized he still had not given me his name.
I reached into the refrigerator and took out the last Arby’s roast beef sandwich and popped it into the microwave. As I removed the sandwich, I was immersed in the intoxicating aroma of the succulent roast beef. I was not alone. I was called out of my reverie by the impact of all forty-two pounds of Max on the back of my knees. Max would not be denied. He stood with his two front paws on my chest snorting and sneezing in my face as he stared at the sandwich in my hand. I tore the sandwich in half and sat there on the kitchen floor sharing a quiet moment with man’s best friend. As I left the house, I could see Max curled up contentedly on the couch breathing easily already enjoying the sleep I was forfeiting.
He was waiting for me when I arrived at the office. We exchanged greetings and he apologized again as I turned on the lights and invited him to have a seat. He was an impressive man. Impeccably dressed and well-mannered he gave an aura of confidence sufficient to tackle any task. We began with the general demographic data. He was 38 years old, the proud father of two sons and a daughter, and enjoyed a passionate loving relationship with his wife. His business holdings were international in scope and had already yielded an income, which made him independently wealthy. Yet, there was more to his story.
He twisted the monogrammed golden cuff link at his left wrist repeatedly as he drifted into silence. These are the difficult moments each of us face as we search for the courage to honestly share our story with someone else. These are the times I must wait and witness that struggle. Several minutes passed without eye contact and only the sound of our breathing. I knew he was not with me but had gone only where he could go to face whatever it was, he wanted my help with. He leaned forward with eyes glistening staring at the floor and quietly shared the rest of his story.
He was a man tormented. He lived a life of external success and internal chaos. This was the pattern of his family growing up in a small rural Michigan town. His was a family life, which included emotional and physical abuse embedded in a superficial façade of social and familial harmony. As a boy fear was his constant companion. He protected himself by dreaming of the future, dreams of safety borne of achievement. There was a social charisma that drew others to him which led to multiple leadership opportunities and successes. He was gifted and driven. He was successful but still searching. His reach had exceeded his grasp and now he explained his inability to go on. He wept quietly as he spoke of his constant battle with anxiety and depression. No one knew. He had faced his thoughts of suicide alone till now. With a heavy sigh of release, he sat back against the couch and we grew silent again. I broke the silence asking if he would like a cup of coffee. He loosened his tie, nodded and said yes. He seemed relieved as we talked about how coffee was a vice we shared. I added a little more coffee than usual in the filter to brew a full strong pot of liquid caffeine. I knew it would be a long night.
That night we talked for hours. I had the opportunity to share with him that his story was not unique. I had heard this story before from countless other people. Though the names and faces were different the principles were the same. His was a common error in coping. In an effort, to escape his past he had committed himself to living in the future. This error in judgment denied him the present! His focus was always on becoming rather than being. In so doing, he became a slave to the abuse of his past and the method by which he survived, living in the future. This approach will without fail lead to an ever-increasing demand for change and achievement yet not allow for the experience of the present. Anxiety and depression are the twin thieves of the present. Fear is debilitating and typically in reference to our future. If unresolved it will eventually exhaust our immune system leading to significant depression. Depression is typically about the past and becomes a cloak of sadness, which denies us the ability to live effectively in the present.
The present is a gift! We can effectively reduce anxiety and depression by committing ourselves to live in the present. This is a gift we can give to ourselves and unwrap every morning. We cannot prevent or escape our past. We cannot predict our future. We can make the choice every day to live in the present. We can fully engage in the now. We can choose to live our lives deliberately. Our past does not control our present or determine our future. We must not focus so much on becoming that we lose the ability to be. Now, is all we have. We determine the influence of our past on our present. The manner, in which we live in the present, creates our future. Living in the moment and drinking deeply of our experience promotes emotional wellness.
That shared pot of coffee began a journey of healing. There were many other times we sat drinking coffee and seeking the balance of a healthy wellness that allowed for the past, present, and future. The journey is difficult for each of us but made easier by giving ourselves … the gift of the present.
Michael D. Griffith, Ph.D.
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