Silent Storm

The crewman charged off the ferry, ran up the dock, and quickly unlocked the gate.

“We’ve got hurry,” he said to me and another guy, the only two people on the pier. “We’ve got to get going!”

This was early Friday morning at the 69th Street pier.

It was dark, cold, and freezing winds were churning up the Narrows and knocking the ferry around like a toy in a bathtub.

During the spring and summer, the ferry ride to work can feel like a mini-vacation. But now I felt like I was in a scene from Captains Courageous.

Usually there are half-a-dozen or so people taking the early AM boat, but on Friday it was just me and that other dude trying to stand upright against the wind.

I knew I should’ve taken the bus.

The dock was pitching and groaning as we jogged down to the boat and the waters were so rough that the ferry pilot announced on the PA system that we were skipping the next stop at Sunset Park and going straight to Red Hook.

Nobody argued with him.

I’ve been thinking about that commute a lot over the last few days and I can see where extreme emotions can feel like a violent storm.

Anger can whip us around in all directions if we don’t work at managing it.

Depression, on the other hand, is much sneakier; it comes quietly and overwhelms us like a sudden fog.

I’ve made some progress with in managing the anger, but despair is far more insidious.

Batten Down the Hatches

When I’m angry there are some very obvious signs—quickening heartbeat, tense muscles, and an awful lot of swear words.

But I went through a period of despair recently that sliced right through my internal alarm system with the scariest of ease.

I was sitting at my desk at work when I allowed myself to ruminate about the past—always a big mistake and something I will curb in 2020.

I went down that dead-end street of what I should’ve done in my Twenties, how other people had succeeded because they were decisive and brave, unlike me, who hemmed and hawed and always played it safe.

Regret, self-condemnation, and comparison ganged up on me dragged me down into a bog of regret and misery. It was like my soul had stepped into quicksand and couldn’t get out.

My coworkers would never have guessed how much pain I was in.

I looked completely calm and relaxed on the outside. There was no cursing or kicking the furniture. But I was in trouble.

The madness finally passed, though it seemed like an eternity. I rose from my seat and went for a walk, applying the first lesson of relieving depression: get up off your ass.

You have to move, even if you just go to a different room in your house. It can take away that feeling of being stuck.

Depression is an evil emotional undertow that pulls you down without your even knowing it. Awareness is key—you have to take an inventory of your thoughts throughout the day and delete the negative ones on the spot.

I recently a qigong routine on depression relief and I found it to be very helpful since, once again, it got me moving and helped calm the rolling waves.

We finally pulled into Wall Street on Friday morning safe, sound, and somewhat relieved. By that time, the waters had calmed and the sun was shining.

It was like we had traveled to another country, miles away from that dark, cold place from which we started.

I bounced up the dock and headed for my office. The storm was over and I was okay.