I think the hardest thing about overcoming depression is recognizing that you’re depressed. You sit there with these sad feelings, knocking yourself down, and just think that the way you feel is natural. You’re not good enough. What ever event or occurrence that caused you to feel the way you do is your fault.

I think the second hardest part about overcoming depression is admitting it. It’s terrifying to look in the mirror, nonetheless other peoples face, and admit such a deeply insecure feeling. What will people think? How will this affect my relationships, career, status, etc? What if I admit it and find out that no one even cares?

It didn’t take me long to recognize I was depressed because I am not a “downer” by nature. I enjoy being around people and I realized fairly quickly that my new desire to avoid everyone was symptomatic of something being wrong. I love being in front of choirs and I knew that on that Sunday afternoon this past February when I wanted nothing more than for rehearsal to be done and to just be anywhere else that I wasn’t operating in my right mindset.

Unfortunately, admitting it to the right people took a little longer for me to do and wasn’t even by choice. These people were very close to me so they could tell without me saying anything but I couldn’t muster the courage to verbalize my weakness. I hate feeling weak nonetheless actually admitting it even though there is nothing wrong with being weak.

Being able to openly discuss it has been a tremendous thing for me to overcome. I started writing this blog post in late May and am just now to the point to where I can finish and publish it.

I’ll say that I was never once suicidal. I had fleeting thoughts about what life might be like if I wasn’t alive but it was always a curiosity and never a “want”. I did however want to escape my recent troubles. So, starting in February this year, I drank and I drank, and then, each night, as I realized that I was losing coherency, I would just drink some more. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. One especially rough night it didn’t work even though I needed it to more than ever. So after my ninth beer in less than 2 hours, I went and grabbed four Xanax and took them. It was all about numbing my pain. I didn’t want to confront it, I didn’t want to share what I was feeling with others, I just wanted it to go away.

The Xanax worked. Very quickly I felt nothing at all, not one single emotion. I sat there drunk, high, and expressionless having achieved my goal of “no pain.” Then I panicked. I noticed that I literally could feel nothing. Not just emotionally but physically too. I pinched my arm and felt absolutely nothing. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I went into the kitchen (to avoid the people who were around me, none of which knew I had drank so much or taken the Xanax) and slapped myself a couple times. Nothing. At this point, I was terrified. At this point, I hit rock bottom. At this point, I grabbed a knife and began cutting it along my arm.

I wasn’t trying to cause myself harm or even cry out for attention, I was simply a stupid drunk that was scared beyond reason. I didn’t want to die, quite the opposite actually. I thought I was going to die because I couldn’t feel anything so my irrational mind told me that I if I could just feel again, I’d be okay. Through a series of very quick events which I honestly can not remember, the people I was with figured everything out. The beers, the pills, the knife…everything happened very fast and they took great care of me. They took me to the emergency room and after several hours and speaking with multiple medical professionals (none of which I remember), I was released to the people that brought me in.

That night, I consumed 12 beers, four Xanax, no food, had a BAC of .28, and cut marks into my arm that I still have to look at every day. The doctor told me that it is very possible that I could have died that night whether I wanted to or not. I almost definitely would have, had those people not rescued me. (I can’t possibly express my love for these people, literally having saved my life.)

It all started with my inability to admit my depression. “It’s not really a problem”, “I can handle this”, “As long as I can numb the pain, I’ll be fine”. Any excuse to neither confront nor admit it. But you see, had I realized the sincerity of my problem and been able to get over my own pride, that night might not have ever happened. Had I been willing to get real help for my internal struggle rather than hiding behind an external struggle, I might not have almost lost everything.

With Robin Williams recent death, a lot of people are writing and talking about the severe effects of depression and suicidal thoughts. I know that I’m just adding to that and I’ll freely admit that mine was a temporary situation and mindset but I hope if you are struggling with any thoughts of a “lack of worth”, you’ll get help. Take it seriously and know that you’re not alone. It is a problem. You can not handle it. You can’t numb the pain and you won’t be fine. You must confront it. Don’t fall down the well and lose everything.

Life is a beautiful and wonderful thing. Choose to love it, choose to love others, and choose to let others love you.

I have always loved baseball. I love playing it, I love watching it, I love reading about it, and I love talking about it. Growing up, I played baseball every season and enjoyed playing a sport I loved with my friends. One particular season was slightly different though. You see there was this kid who pitched for another team and he and I didn’t exactly get along very well. We went to the same school but hung out in different circles so there is no reason we shouldn’t have just been cordially nonchalant towards each other. We were just drawn to disliking one another and went out of our way to antagonize each other.

In the younger leagues, we never played in the same division but as we got older and the leagues became more specific based on talent, we wound up against each other. That particular season was rough for me anytime we played his team. Why? Because he would always hit me when I came up to bat. Every time, never failed. The off-the-field issues between me and this kid combined with my highly competitive nature made for a rough time. My coach and his coach spoke with us about the situation, his parents and my parents spoke about it, nothing changed.

The thing is I didn’t really mind too terribly much because it made me feel justified in some way for how I treated him. I could ridicule him, talk about him behind his back, maintain this resentful and begrudging nature towards him as long as he was doing the same to me.

Expressing mercy has always been a weakness of mine. I have a bad habit of wanting to reciprocate towards others how they’ve made me feel. I want them to understand what they’ve done and then I want them to feel what I’ve felt. It gets even worse if I feel like they’re getting away with it. I’m very much a “justice must be served” person and it drives me crazy when I feel like anyone is getting away with anything.

This isn’t a Christ-like mentality. There are several times we see this being taught in scripture (Luke 6:27-28, Matthew 5:39, Romans 12:14) but the best example is seen in Christ’s death. Christ didn’t just die for his disciples. He didn’t just die for his family and his friends. He died for those who spat on him. He died for those who cursed, abused, beat, and nailed him on to the cross. He died for those who betrayed him. He died for those who took his name in vain.

If Christ can endure all of those things for everyone who despised Him, why is it so hard for us to uplift someone who speaks ill towards us? Why is it so hard to love those who betray, antagonize, and hate us? Christ gives us a command to “love our enemies”. It’s not a suggestion, it’s a command and it’s so important. We are the church, the body of Christ, and in this day and age where so many are willing to spew hatred in the name of Christ, it’s significantly more important that we reach out to show our God is a father figure who loves and extends mercy.

I’ve spoken before about the significance of the symbolism of the cross in relation to love. Not only is the cross the greatest symbol of love, it’s also the greatest symbol of mercy. We can look at the cross and dwell on a man who didn’t just die for us, He died for that person gossiping about you, He died for that person who just screamed at you and cussed you out, He died for that person who cut you off on your morning commute. He died for you, He died for me, He died for all of us.

“I believe in love even when I can not feel it…”

A few years ago, I was in Chicago for a conference and I was riding the L-train into downtown. As I sat there undoubtedly reading an article on ESPN, the guy next to me struck up a conversation. He introduced himself and we connected over the fact that we were both there from Texas and attending the same conference.

Apparently his brother’s choir was one of the featured performing ensembles. As he sat there telling me about his brother, it stood out to me that he and his brother had different last names. Having step siblings, this isn’t particularly unusual to me but I felt intrigued and decided to ask him about it. He began telling me how they weren’t related at all, not even through marriage. It seemed odd to me that he referred to this guy as his brother when they were, in fact, not relatives at all.

He picked up on my curiosity and began telling me their story. They met in college, became friends, and over time developed this intensely close relationship. The guy I was talking to was a grad student at the time when his “brother” was an undergrad so their friendship was unlikely, their familial bond even more unlikely.

There was never any particularly dynamic event that caused their closeness, they simply had many things in common and a connection. Eventually, he finished grad school and moved away but their bond continued. They frequently spoke on the phone, counseled each other, visited each other when possible. They each began their own families and their kids referred to the other as “Uncle”. It was just this intensely close connection with someone who had no blood connection.

Someone once told me that “you can’t choose your family”. I mean, of course you can’t choose who you are related to by blood but is that the extent of the definition of family? I am inclined to think not.

I miss my parents, my sisters, my brother, my nephews and niece, my cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc and I very much look forward to seeing them all more often than I’ve been able to the past four years, but in a different way I’m very much having to leave a different kind of family behind. My chosen family.

I have been incredibly blessed to become a part of many families these last four years, even more so, these past six months. I look around Texas and can easily see all the people who have become parents, children, brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces, cousins, etc. People who were going to make me believe in love simply because they were going to make sure I could feel it.

I think back to that conversation on the L-train and think how lucky I am to have the people I have in my life. I’ll miss seeing so many of them on a daily or weekly basis but I also look forward to those special times when I can talk with them on the phone, counsel them and be counseled, and especially those visits, none more so than those visits with the L-train.

There is a Panera Bread near my office that I’ll visit for lunch occasionally, maybe once or twice a month. I’ve always enjoyed Panera Bread, especially that Broccoli Cheese soup, but I love going to this Panera Bread. The reason I love going to this specific Panera Bread has nothing to do with the food or the restaurant itself though. You see, there is nothing about this Panera Bread that makes it any different from any of the other hundreds of Panera Breads all over the country…except for Nick Pickle.

Who is Nick Pickle you ask? Well, he just so happens to be one of the coolest, most genuine guys I’ve ever met. Nick has worked at Panera Bread for several years, much longer than I’ve been going in there. He is quick to greet you as you walk in the door and quick to make sure you know EVERYTHING there is to know about what you’re ordering. He wants to help you get what you want, exactly the way you want it.

The best thing about Nick Pickle? He doesn’t just want to know what you’d like to eat, he wants to know how your day is going…he wants to know how your week is going, he wants to get to know you. Every single time I go in there, he strikes up an honestly genuine conversation with me. He carries on the conversation by asking questions about me and offering information about himself. He is simply a nice guy who loves people (and Panera Bread).

Why am I telling you about Nick Pickle? Because we can all learn from Nick Pickle. I sincerely doubt that every one of Nick’s days goes exactly how he planned or hoped. I sincerely doubt that bad things never happen to him. And I know for a fact from having watched it happen, that people are sometimes mean to Nick…but there he is, always greeting people with a smile, always offering advice and suggestions, always conversing with each guest as if they were old friends.

Nick shared with me one time that his goal is for everyone he meets to be a little happier after they’ve met him than before. You don’t always know who you will encounter or where you will encounter them; but with the right attitude, you can always be sure that they leave your company better than when they met you. Be a Nick Pickle.

“Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” Proverbs 22:6

I would say the phrase my dad tells me more than anything else is “I love you”. For as long as I can remember, he has told me that every single time we have talked. The second most spoken phrase I hear from my Father is probably “I’m proud of you”. I can think of many times which he has uttered those words to me. From large accomplishments such as graduating college or pursuing a career in ministry to small occurrences such as simply getting a solo in choir or making good grades.

I’ve learned a lot about life from my dad. We’re eerily similar in many ways while also having many differences and I know that who I am today was shaped by him in many ways. My dad is far from perfect. He has made mistakes in life as all humans do and there are some of those mistakes I needed to make myself but also several that I could learn from watching him. Regardless of the mistakes I’ve made, I always knew I could count on having his love and his acceptance.

My dad has consistently been there for all the major happenings in my life, supporting me in the good and the bad. One night, a couple weeks into my separation, I was having what we will call an “especially rough night”. Without any request on my part or hesitation on his part, my dad woke up in the middle of that night, looked at my stepmom and said “Trey needs me in Texas. I just know it.” Then he got into his truck at 3am and drove to Plano. He didn’t even know I was having an “especially rough night” at the time, but just knew deep down that I needed him, so he was there.

And there is no better way I can think of to describe my dad than with that story. He is present. I know that if there is ever a moment that I need someone, I can always count on him to be there. If I need to talk, he will listen; if I need to cry, he has a shoulder; if I need to be held up, he is supporting me; if I need a pat on the back and a “job well done, he is the first one to do it and say it.

Happy Father’s Day to a man whom I respect, love, and admire. I love you Dad and I’m proud to be your son.

I am not a fan of change. I’m not talking about coins and I’m not talking about little day-to-day changes. I’m not much of a routine person. I get up, eat, workout, and go to bed at different times almost every single day. But big changes…I hate them. They are very difficult for me to accept and even harder to readjust.

2010 was a big year of change for me. I graduated college, got married, moved to Texas and started graduate school all in that year, and it wasn’t even spread out across the whole year, all of those things happened in a three month span. Now, part of me enjoyed doing all of those things but it was difficult at the same time.

First of all, I did not want to graduate college. Well, maybe I did in some ways but for the most part, I loved (and still love) Montevallo and I loved how secure it made me feel. The idea of leaving and going out into the world terrified me. Secondly, I did not want to go to graduate school. But, I didn’t have job prospects in a state (Texas) with which I was very unfamiliar at the time and I did have an assistantship to study with a musician that I liked and respected. It made sense.

I had no trouble with the getting married part. I was marrying the girl of my dreams and couldn’t wait to start my life with her. More than anything however, I did not want to move to Texas. It was too far away from everyone we knew and everything I held dear. But the woman I loved did and I would have followed her to the ends of the earth and back…so I moved.

The first year I was in Texas, all I thought about was getting out. It’s not because it wasn’t wonderful (although it could have milder summers), it’s because I moved here with the MINDSET that it wouldn’t be wonderful. I failed to see everything around me that I genuinely loved about Texas. I focused on the negative. During my first summer here though, I started warming up to Texas (pun intended). It was during this time that I got my current job directing the Living Proof Youth Choir at Christ United Methodist Church in Plano, TX.

I have spent the last three years falling in love with LPYC. God blessed me with the opportunity to make music that glorified Him while ministering into the lives of some of the coolest, brightest, and most incredible kids I’ve ever met. At some point during this time, I was actually able to see myself settling in Texas and being happy here for a long time. That’s why it’s so hard for me to leave now.

It’s never about our own timing in life. It’s all about God’s timing. See, I’m a firm believer that if God is calling you to transition during a season of success and you ignore it, you’re forcing yourself into failure. I have experienced great success while in Texas and have been blessed much more than I deserve, but God is calling me to a new season in my life so I’m going home to Alabama. I’ve obviously experienced a great amount of change already during the past few months and that makes me nervous and scared about adding more change to that, but when God speaks into your heart (and you are 100% confident it’s God talking), you listen.

I was nervous in 2010 and I’m nervous again now in 2014. But, I have no doubt that all the changes in 2010 made me into the person I am right now at this very moment and I can confidently say that the person I am today is better than the person I was four years ago.

I’ll never forget my time in Texas and who’s to say I won’t end up back here. It really is a wonderful place to live. For now though, I’m going to be around family and life-long friends. I’m going to spend some time getting to know myself better. I’m going to spend some time healing. More than anything though, I’m going to spend some time seeking God with my whole heart.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:13