By Nate Livsey
In the 8 years since I wrote the previous piece on this blog, I’ve gone through a lot of changes. I was hospitalized for a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation twice, and I experienced a lot of heartache and difficulty – some directly attributable to mental illness, some just because of the inherent difficulty of life. Despite the lows, I have found peace and strength and happiness and hope because of some incredibly happy moments. I was married and bought a house and started new jobs and lost jobs and recently had a child. I’d like to think that these events, coupled with maturing and learning more about myself have helped me be a better husband, son, friend, teacher, leader, and parent. I certainly have more room to grow. I’d like to share a couple recent experiences to reflect on these changes.
Just this past hour I was putting my son to bed. This can be a frustrating and exhausting endeavor. I know that he’s tired and wants to sleep, but sometimes he just wants to fight it. We all do. He does everything he can to try and get comfortable – he writhes in my arms, he screams, he cries, he puts on the most heartbreaking pouty face, he spits out his pacifier, he sucks on his thumb through the cloth of the swaddle, and so on.
So far he’s spit up on me, he’s farted and left an odor that would kill lesser lifeforms, and generally been fussy. As I’m sitting with him in my arms on a rocking chair, I play the song “Blue Bucket of Gold” off of Sufjan Stevens’ album Carrie and Lowell. While the album is somewhat sad in nature and heavily features themes around parenting, it can be soothing and relaxing. I’ve been playing a few other songs with little success. Finally, I get him to keep the binkie in his mouth and as I’m rocking him for the second or third time to this song, he starts to relax. His breathing starts to even out, and he starts making the most adorable, precious cooing noises. I lay him down in his bassinet and then go out to clean his bottles.
It’s a small thing, but despite all the frustration I may face in the day, that makes everything right. For that moment, I’m in Shangri-La. I could not be happier. I’m still exhausted, but I am as happy as can be.
This brings me to my first reflection: after becoming a parent, living for something greater than yourself becomes a motivation for someone with my struggles. For so long I would survive day to day for myself or to not burden those around me. But now, to think of my son growing up without a father because of my own choices is unthinkable. Living courageously in spite of my illness and issues is the greatest and manliest thing I can do.
In the six years of marriage to my wonderful wife, I’ve learned a lot about sacrifice, patience, and compassion, mainly from her. Despite my many issues, Jane has repeatedly shown grace, empathy, and done things I would not be capable of. She is patient and kind and understands what I need but also does not put up with poor behavior. She is a constant inspiration to me and someone I strive to emulate. Living for something greater than myself takes on another entirely different meaning as well when viewed with her in the lens. While she could definitely survive without me, I would cause undue strain and stress on her – something that she does not need, want, or deserve. And so again, living courageously in spite of all my myriad struggles becomes a nobler, better option than what I’ve experienced previously.
Obviously, this isn’t applicable to everyone – I have had innumerable blessings and opportunities that others will not have. But I’d like to think that despite where we may be in life, we can always do with a fresh perspective.
I still take my meds. In fact, I take them much more religiously than I used to. I have healthy coping strategies and don’t lose my temper nearly as often. I am the most mentally healthy in my life, and I look forward to keeping that going. And so, to my son, I wish to continue to live and grow and learn with you and for you, and become the father you need me to be. As in the Latin, “excelsior,” or “ever upward.”
Nate Livsey 