A Halloween ghosting: A haunting tale of depression

Trigger warning: Despite the spooky, festive title, this post is actually a recap of the darkest, longest bout of depression in my entire life (so far). There is plenty of thankfulness and hope in my heart as I look back at this experience. But if you're looking for some light, fun reading, skip to one of my other posts. There is a silver lining in every situation. Cheers!


Ghosting (goh-sting): the practice of suddenly ending all contact with a person without explanation

Inspired by today's Halloween Dictionary.com word of the day, ghosting (certainly not in the romantic sense, as it's defined there), I'm recalling one of the times I was ghosted by one of my random adventure buddies.  Though not her fault in any way, it sent sent me into a spiral of depression that, quite literally, nearly cost me my life.

I'm simplifying this story for brevity, but it more or less started with a Mount St. Helens climb. A few years ago, a buddy from Roseburg had been asking for months to replace our climb plans that fell through when she got injured. She sounded so enthusiastic about climbing a mountain with me... Or even just hiking something. And incidentally, I was getting more interested in technical mountain climbs myself. She suggested all these cool routes we could try. As a people pleaser (yes, to a fault), I couldn't bear to let her down.

Some time later, she abruptly stopped returning my messages. No reason was given, and no "Nah, I changed my mind" or "Oops, we missed our weather window" was hinted at.  Just silence. No responses.

A person without depression would've shrugged this off (as I would now as well, had it happened more recently). But tragically, at the time I didn't have the basic coping skills yet to be that person. I spent the next 18 months (lowball estimate) crying, staying awake nearly all night for days/weeks/MONTHS on end, scrutinizing every hike we had taken for a navigational blunder, replaying every conversation for something I may have said wrong, rereading/wincing over every Facebook message I had ever sent to this person, and drafting even more awkward messages to send. I beat myself up day and night.

It became a self-defeating cycle. The worse the pain of depression from the ghosting grew, the more desperate and emotional my messages became.  And the more messages I sent, the more I hated myself for sending overly emotional messages that I wished I could unsend. Why, oh why, can't Facebook have an unsend button?, I agonized. I was crippled by depression, and, even more sleep-robbing, super embarrassed that it took me so long to curb my efforts to reach out.

Had I done something wrong to deserve a ghosting, I wondered? Possibly. When I had met her for a day trip in Verona, Italy (Yep, I still hook up with buddies overseas often), I was living off extreme sleep deprivation like no man has ever encountered. I must have been an incoherent zombie.  I slept for a record 13+ hours (!) when I left Verona that night to hook up with my next round of buddies in Venice.

Had I said something wrong to deserve a ghosting, I wondered? Probably. Again, as the pain of depression stabbed me in the chest every night until 3:30 a.m., I definitely began to type some sappy, regrettable stuff that I didn't even mean.  But the pain was so crushing. Every month that passed, I plotted to end my life. I never even thought about that friend, or the ghosting, anymore...

It became completely about me, and what I might have done wrong. I was no longer myself.

Would I ever get closure as to why I got ghosted, I wondered? A quick, "Oops, I never got back to you" or standard-issue "Hope you're doing well" message? No. And again, a non-depressed person would never have been so devastated by a casual friend doing that, anyway. It shouldn't have been a big deal. She probably just forgot. But due to my depression working overtime, I couldn't live without hearing a "everything is cool" reassurance from an otherwise casual, only occasionally thought of adventure buddy.


Thankfully, at what would have been the final hours of my life, God sent me a dear friend who would help me put all of this in perspective: How depression distorts reality, how I am worth being friends with (and being alive), etc... But that's a story for another day, with a happier outcome.

Am I upset at the bummer friend who did the ghosting? Of course not. Social media connects us with more friends than we could ever keep track of. Too many amazing friends, too little time. And it's impossible to know who may be struggling with occasional mental health issues.

I'm thankful for every person I've ever known. No exceptions. Every friend I've ever had is amazing, just the way they are. There are no former friends.

My prayer is that I will be the best friend I can be, to everyone who needs one. Everyone is special. And everyone needs to know that they are loved, cared for, and appreciated.

Happy Halloween, friends!

That's me in the red shirt, paying tribute to the late Burt Reynolds with my '80s mustache and "Smokey and the Bandit" costume.

An Instagram pic from my annual Halloween costume hike I led last Saturday)

From tonight's Instagram Story: A mostly Star Wars-themed night of trick-or-treating

Top 10: Most popular TRAVEL posts of the year (Unpublished #3 from Hong Kong)

A family trip to Spain:  One of our many, MANY yet-to-be-published overseas travel stories

From Hong Kong:

As explained last month in my Honorable Mentions compilation, this is Part 3 of a previously unreleased "Best of" series from January 2014, based on page views for my 2013 posts.  Yes, this series is an entire year old and these posts are from 2013.

Writing new content for this blog has taken a backseat recently to family time, ministry, leading hikes, the occasional climb, and traveling overseas.  Perhaps this unpublished series will help readers pass the time until I start blogging again.  If not, check back when I get home from Hong Kong in a few days!

As always, links look like this.  Here is the link to last week's "Top 10: Most popular non-travel posts"!  Only the 18 travel posts from that year were factored into this list.  So now, from January 2014, here are some brief reflections on each of my travel-themed Top 10:

10.  Bogota, Pt. 5:

Risky Business and the Musicology Hostel

Sometimes a travel post is nothing more than a plug for a Colombian hostel with plenty of character.  And characters.

A couple of earlier entries in this Colombia travelogue, covering my journey from the U.S. to South America, didn’t make this Top 10 list:  No Sleep ‘Til Bogota!, and also Bogota, Pt. 2:  Colombia, At Last

9.  Milan Epilogue

This journey that immediately followed South America began in Switzerland, continued in Italy, and was finally coming to a close when I met Ravil at the JFK airport.

More worthwhile, I.M.O., is the less popular "Italy: Killing a Day in Milan."  Stories and photos from my least favorite Italian city (I prefer the mountains and countryside anyway) included the can’t-miss sights of the Duomo cathedral and the Swiss/ Italian mountains.

On some years we frequently fly to Italy every few months, so I’m looking forward to seeing Houtan again on one of our upcoming Italian visits!

8.  Bogota, Pt. 3:  The Big Welcome Party

Though awash in criticism, this story was all clean, innocent fun.  After relocating to the next Colombian hostel, I edited and tightened up this post to clear up any misconceptions.

The inserted apology was probably overkill.

7.  Bogota, Pt. 4:  In Harm’s Way

And I thought that previous #8 post about the birthday party was controversial?  Public and private backlash on Facebook and Twitter was staggering after I released this story of fellow traveler Hector and me exploring a rough part of Bogota, Colombia.

Granted, our lives were put in serious danger multiple times (including a terrifying, unmentioned episode that I’ll share in person but would never release online).  But Hector and I knew what we were doing.  And God was certainly watching out for us as we shared a wonderful act of service together.

True story, with one significant footnote:  The only artistic license I took with this narrative was my intentional vagueness about Hector’s true identity (again, I’ll freely share the “real” version with anyone who asks).

In other words, a few extra sentences would've changed this story completely.  Choosing to omit this detail dramatically changed the original, inspirational narrative into a straight up life-or-death adventure… and it definitely was that.

6.  Noordwijk, Netherlands:

The almost daddy-daughter day trip

Three hours before departure, Mommy changed her mind about allowing Lil’ Lena to visit one of Daddy's friends in the Netherlands for the day.  I gave a rain check to my graciously understanding friend in Amsterdam and hit this Dutch beach town instead.

Thanks to my other well-traveled friends at the Flying Pig Beach Hostel, this relatively minor weekend getaway was one of my favorite trips of the year (after Rome and Venice, of course)!

But alas, there's just no substitute for an overseas daddy-daughter day trip.

5.  Northern Italy, Pt. 2:

Verona, Venice, and beyond

Before the year's end party in Rome, some clever friends surprised me for a most memorable weekend in Venice.  While the departure from Venice was downright catastrophic, the quick stopover in Verona beforehand was a joy.

The only damper on Carli's and my wedding facility recon for Robbin (which we never got around to anyway) and touristy Verona sightseeing was setting a sky high record for sleep deprivation.  Full flights had dragged out my U.S. departure for Italy by two full days, forcing me to cut out the en route get-together in Austria entirely.  Thus, I was a barely conscious zombie by the time I reached Verona.

I don't exactly remember falling asleep... But at some point that night, I woke up in Venice for the main event.

4.  Part 2-  Japan:  Golden Week in Osaka

Speaking of ever-evolving trip beginnings, this unplanned trip to Osaka was the fallout from the unfortunate events in Part 1- China: Shot down and the earlier teaser, China:  Beijing in My Sights.  No single factor was to blame.  My convoluted visa scheme was risky, I was brushed aside by my hopeful contact in China, and the standby passengers were all deplaned when our flight was declared overweight in Seattle.

The change in destination sent me headlong into Japan's Golden Week. The festivals and parades were exuberant. And it was all worth the hassle for the opportunity to bust out some wingman magic for my eligible bachelor buddy, Xia.

My Japanese coworkers later objected that chaotic Golden Week is the craziest time of the year to fly standby to Asia.  But it came down to flying to Osaka or flying home.  On that note, flying home from Osaka was one of the most unbelievable "non-rev" ordeals I've ever encountered.  The best twist: getting my passport yanked in Guam. Long story.

And that's why there's definitely gonna be a very belated Parts 3 and 4 on Garth's Blog to conclude this saga.  Trust me, the rest of this story is too outrageous to pass up.

3.  Switzerland:  A Protest in Lausanne

The Swiss protest photo above is the first pic that I ever "live tweeted" from a news making event.  Merely a week after my "In Harm's Way" incidents in Colombia (see #7 on this list), I wasn't in a rush to get caught up in any more excitement for the month.  But then this happened.

Kathy and I hadn't seen our buddy Sebastien since the dancing, sailing, swimming, and snorkeling at Club Med in Turks and Caicos Islands several months earlier.  After landing in Zurich, I hopped a train through the Swiss Alps to Lausanne.  Seb gave me some suggested sights to see while I waited for him to get off work.  Before sightseeing, I made sure that I could navigate my way to his flat and also to our meeting spot, the nearby Church of Saint-François.  All was peaceful.

All hell had broken loose by the time I returned to our meeting spot that evening.  Throngs of protesters had overrun the church courtyard and the surrounding streets.  The collective shouting* made it impossible to hear a phone conversation, so Seb and I attempted to locate each other with a mish mash of emails, texting and Facebook.

*Fortunately, there were no gunshots this time.  Kathy and I nearly peed our pants when deafening gunfire broke out during the earlier protest that we saw in Argentina.  The nerve of those guys!

By the time Seb showed up from work, the crowd had moved on.  I excitedly told him what had just happened as we left the scene to kick off our night.  Other than my pics and a video clip, he had to take my word for it.

The next day's stop was, you guessed it, another Italy trip.  But that was completely unrelated to my second most popular travel story of the year...

2.  Northern Italy: Confrontation in First Class

My tweet from the JFK airport taxiway was elaborated on here, in this short story about the alcohol-related incident that forced our plane to return to the gate.  It was hastily composed on my Note phone as my water taxi cruised through the canals of Venice.  And it is disgusting.

Consider this a cautionary tale about excessive drinking before flying... as well as a warning to anyone in the airline cabin service industry who is prone to gag reflex.

And the #1 most popular travel post of the year (and nearly all time) is...

1.  Leaving Bogota:

Hiking Mt. Monserrate and Scaling the Wall

Other than a questionably prudent but climbable side excursion (referenced in the title) that I discovered, the pilgrim's path up Colombia's Mount Serrate is not difficult nor dangerous in the least.  In fact, anyone in decent shape should be able conquer the high altitude and run up to the peak.

Lingering too late at the touristy summit, however, can lead to problems.

Since trail access is shut down before dusk, running back down may be the best option to slip through the gates before they are locked for the night.  In this case, though, there were some non-runners making their way down who needed a hand.  And you know what they say, leave no man (or woman) behind.

As I was assisting some older ladies on a steep stretch of trail, the gates below closed for the night.

 Lowering fragile bones over the side of a trail and then boosting them back up the other side was the only thing I could think of to get us back to the trail head.  Surely there was a better way?


Previously unknown fact: 
A single photo of Hector, the violence-prone star of #7's "In Harm's Way," is subtly buried in the #1 post.  That's probably the closest I'll get to publicly revealing the truth about Hector's identity.  Any guesses as to which one he is?


Thanks for taking the time to revisit these travel posts, readers.  The current adventure in Hong Kong is almost ready to be published.

Stories from our family's more recent and upcoming overseas travels are coming soon!

Northern Italy, Pt. 2: Verona, Venice, and beyond

Readers:  This brief European visiting spree from a couple weeks ago was a mini-continuation of our family’s vacation in Spain, our trip that got cut short a few weeks earlier.  Stay tuned for our family’s Madrid travelogue from September, coming soon!

…Continued from last week’s Northern Italy: Confrontation in First Class (link), and written on the return train from Verona and also in my Venice hostel:

Planes, trains, automobiles, and boats.  Dabbling in nearly every conventional mode of motorized transportation was the only way to reach my first stop: Verona, Italy.

It felt like I had already been gone for days.  In reality, quick visits to friends in Edinburg, Leon, and Rome were sadly cut from the itinerary prior to my seatmate’s drunken scuffle with airline crews on the taxiway in New York.  It was a bummer to waste two whole travel days when Kathy and Lena were already on their way out of town… we USUALLY travel together as a family.  My goal was for us all to return home at roughly the same time, so the clock was ticking.

My Venice flight’s emergency return to the gate in JFK had delayed my arrival in Verona even longer.  Once the onboard hubbub died down, most of my comfy flight time was spent reading and studying. [11/6/13: Also see the comment section from last week’s post].  I should have been sleeping.

**********

After 20+ hours of driving, flying, and layovers, I hit the ground in Venice.  A ticket lady at Venice's Marco Polo airport directed me to a boat that would supposedly connect with my train to Verona.  I should’ve known there was an easier way.

The boat driver was in no hurry.  Now I’m not saying that he was slow, but at one point I seriously considered diving into the canal and swimming ahead to shave off some time.

Turns out the entire boat ride in Venice was both unnecessary and uncalled for.  The Italian woman at the ticket booth heard my request for “Verona” and must have translated it to “Murano.”   That’s right, Italian auto-correct in action.  She sold me an expensive ticket for a water taxi (no destination printed) that I caught at the docks, thinking that it would take me from the Venice airport to the train station.  Nope!

I switched boats.  A nautical hour later, our boat eventually floated into one of the narrow canals and docked next to a waterfront café.  The amazing race was on:  find the train station, and then catch a fast train to Verona.  I wouldn’t be racing untethered, though…

Euji from the boat christened me as her personal tour guide to untangle the confusing walkways of Venice.  My expertise must have been determined by me stepping onto dry land a whole five seconds before she did, right?  I didn’t have the heart to keep explaining to Euji about the American phrase, “the blind leading the blind.”

After hurriedly helping my enthusiastic Japanese friend locate a couple of tourist sites, I ran to the Venice station to hop a westbound fast train.  My friend staying near Verona was patiently waiting, although we had already scaled back our plans due to my late arrival in northern Italy.  A weekend of hiking, sightseeing, and whatnot was reduced to whatever we could squeeze into an afternoon and evening.

Carli, the WWOOF farmer, arrived about the same time as I did to meet me at the Verona Porta Nuova train station.

Sharp readers may remember Maggie's sister Carli and other friends from this trip being mentioned in previous posts.  Maggie's still awesome as always, and her and Carli are the the two sisters who signed up with Worldwide Workers on Organic Farms a couple years ago to WWOOF their way through Italy.

Maggie stayed in the U.S. this year as Carli returned to Italy in April for more exploring and farming, spending the bulk of her current stay working in and above the majestic Arpisson Valley.  Some earlier missteps this year tragically prevented me from visiting that beautiful countryside near Cogne.   But it was certainly worth the side trip to Verona yesterday to include her in my latest Italy visiting spree.  Maggie and Carli write about their adventures here, and a widget for their blog can also be found on my “Garth’s Blog” sidebar.

Being first time visitors in town, neither of us could tell apart Verona from Khumbu, Nepal.  We discovered that fans of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” would find much to appreciate in the historic center, as well as ancient Roman and Gothic architecture buffs.  Some of the monuments and structures that we walked past dated back to the first century A.D., like the Arena di Verona coliseum.  Checking out the walking trails at nearby Lake Garda may have been a more fitting activity than urban sightseeing, though.

The friendly locals were brimming with that famous Italian hospitality of the region.  A helpful café owner even loaned us an umbrella for a few hours to fend off the rain as we explored the town.  And we weren’t even his customers!

Refreshing afternoon gelatos, antipasto, tasty pizza, and a calzone (the only actual meal I’ve had so far) took the edge off our hunger for the walk back to the train station.  If only I had remembered to grab the leftovers!  By the time I retrieved my backpack from the luggage locker, the last slow train to Venice was only a few minutes away from nearing the station.

Back in Venice, a boat picked me up in front of the train station, cruised through the city’s canals in the dark, and dropped me off at the Generator Hostel Venice around 1:30 a.m.  I’d need to rest up for joining my friend Chris in the morning near his campsite, and also for hooking up with the gang from the Tuscany region later on.

My exhausting, mostly sleepless string of travel hours should have sent me immediately into bunk bed hibernation.  But a rambunctious party in the common lounge downstairs tempted me with a more enticing option.  Bout in Venice, first round:  Much needed sleep vs. bonus fun with fellow backpackers.  Anyone who knows me can definitely guess which choice won out!

One of these days, I’ll learn.

**********

It remains to be seen if this trip will live up to the “beyond” section of this post title, as planned.  It all depends on my meager budget, time, and how close my other friends in Italy are at the moment.

But one thing’s for sure:  I can’t wait to get home to Kathy and Lena soon.  Unlike our family trip to Spain last month, our time off work and out-of-town schedules didn’t line up this time.  I’ll be hurrying home shortly, anxious to whisk them away to somewhere else across the globe!

11/6/13: Rather than further delaying this two-week old post to find free time for updating, I added the intro/pics today and pretty much published it as is. And now that I’m back in the States, I’ll consider adding a fourth wrap-up post (no promises!) to Part 3 about my less than smooth exit from Italy.

11/10/13: Part 3: Reunions in Venice was posted yesterday, but it has been removed indefinitely.  I'll replace that post with another post that I wrote here in Noordwijk, Netherlands.

And to all of you amazing friends still in Italy whom I had to bail on AGAIN… Nick, Ben, Jeremiah, Houtan, Eric, Gerardo, and pretty much everyone I know down south… we’ll have our day in the Italian sun some other time!

Coming this weekend on Garth’s Blog…

Reunions in Venice!

(11/10/13 Post removed)

And then…

Cold water surfing in Oregon with the fam!

And later this month…

Madrid, Spain:  Lena goes from nationwide to worldwide!

Northern Italy: Confrontation in First Class

This is Part 1 of 3 (plus a possible 4^th post, now that I’m back in the U.S. to write one), typed from northern Italy last week while hanging with friends old and new:  Carli, Chris, Piotr, Sarah, Leslie, Chad, Jorge, Jenny… and the rest of the gang who surprised me in Venice!

Kathy and our two year old Lena drove to Salem and Bend with family for a few days last week.  Due to a work scheduling conflict on their first day, I wasn’t able to join them.   So I resumed a mini-version of our European trip, solo, that was interrupted last month when our family was in Madrid.  The blog posts about last month’s family trip to Spain are coming soon!

A few of my Delta vacation days were cancelled (and one wasted) late last week trying to fly standby from Portland to hook up with friends here in northern Italy.  But so far, this trip has been worth the wait!  Here’s a little pre-adventure story to kick things off:

Confrontation in First Class

I "live tweeted" about the following dust-up as my plane was returning to the gate in New York.  The passenger seated next to me had waaay to much to drink in the Delta Sky Club prior to boarding.  He was so loaded that his hands couldn’t even hold his pre-departure drink steady.  As our plane taxied off to the runway, he started making a fuss… and a mess.

Warning: This is gross.  My seatmate (a dead ringer for zombie-slayer Michonne, from the Walking Dead) and I gagged as this guy coughed up what looked like blood all over himself.  There were red droplets and chunks splattered everywhere:  the floor, his clothes, his seat, the TV monitor.  I asked him if he was alright, and he calmly assured me that it was merely wine and not blood.  He had regrettably “spent a little too much time drinking at the Sky Club this afternoon.”  So then what in the name of Gilbert Gottfried were those red chunks?

The pilot announced that our plane was returning to the gate.  No surprise there.  The tanked passenger started a series of arguments with the Delta flight attendants, then the captain, then the returning gate agent, and then finally launched a 2^nd and final bout with the captain.

While the utterly smashed passenger was being escorted off the plane, a collective wince fell across our Business Elite faces at his parting imagery.  He was trying in vain to prevent his sagging slacks from falling down around his ankles.  Pure horror.

Cleanup on Aisle 2: The cabin service crew earned their paychecks that night.  It took THREE of them to clean up that disgusting mess before our plane could taxi back out to the runway again!

The moral of the story is:  don’t drink and… fly, I guess?  Maybe the moral is even more obvious.  Just don’t be that guy.

Kudos to the New York-based Delta Airlines team for their professionalism in handling this heated situation.  Our plane departed the second time and made it to Venice, Italy without incident!

And a big congrats to the bewildered buddy pass rider who was suddenly upgraded from Economy Coach to the Business Elite seat of the crime.  Friend, your new seat was most likely sparkling clean by the time you sat down next to me.

But just in case, I hope you packed a change of pants.

Coming this weekend early next week

on Garth’s Blog…

...Pt. 2- Northern Italy: Verona, Venice, and Beyond!