Learning to Fly: A story about overcoming depression

by David E Forrester

Roger leaned back from the table and sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at Pete. He raised an eyebrow and took a big gulp of his beer. ‘You never struck me as the sort, Pete. You’ve always looked to me as if you have your stuff together.’

  ‘A shoddy façade, mate,’ Pete said, taking a sip of his wine and feeling slightly relieved that Roger had reacted as he had.

  Roger leaned back onto the table. ‘You’re seeing someone, right?’ he asked, concerned.

  ‘Yep, I’m even on antidepressants,’ Pete replied and was surprised that he was no longer ashamed to say so.

  ‘Good, ’cause it would be a crappy world without you bro. I’m sure Liz’s told you that. You’ve told Liz, right?’ Roger asked.

  ‘Yeah, Liz was the first person I told,’ Pete said.

  ‘How’d she react?’ Roger asked curiously.

  ‘She was sympathetic for about five seconds and then went all extreme makeover on me. Hence the gluten-free diet,’ Pete said as he raised his wine glass to take another sip.

  Roger smirked and said, ‘Gotta love Liz, she’s a keeper,’ and took another gulp of his beer. ‘So, what brought this on all of a sudden? Working hard for your promotion? Is everything OK with you and Liz?’ Roger asked gently.

  Pete took a breath. ‘The shrink says I have this condition called dysthymia,’ Pete answered.

  Roger reared back as if Pete had just told him he had the flu and said, ‘What the hell is that?!’

  Pete chuckled and was glad of the emotional release. ‘Take it easy Rog. I thought it was some sort of venereal disease when I first heard it.’ Pete beckoned Roger closer. ‘It’s a prolonged form of depression, so it’s something I’ve been dealing with my whole life.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like something that’s conducive to our line of work, Pete. So, you thinking of getting out?’ Roger asked seriously.

  ‘No, that’s why I’m getting treatment and why I’ve revamped my diet,’ Pete explained.

  ‘And how’s that all going?’ Roger asked curiously.

  ‘Well the therapy’s a bit of a hard slog and the diet’s not much better. But I have to admit going gluten-free’s made me feel five years younger.’

  ‘Well you’ll never sell me on giving up my beer – it’s how I’ve managed to stay sane for so long,’ Roger said and took another gulp.

  ‘Seriously Rog. How have you managed to cope all of these years in the markets? Hell, you’ve made it through the Asian Financial Crisis, the Dotcom bubble bust, the Global Financial Crisis and the European Debt Crisis,’ he observed.

  ‘The last time I checked, you were the specialist at making money out of crises, Moggy. So why are you looking for crisis counselling?’ Roger asked.

  Pete raised his eyebrows in reply.

  ‘Oh...yeah, sorry,’ Roger looked around for Janice and caught her attention. ‘Let’s get some food and another drink, shall we?’

  Pete nodded. ‘Good idea.’

  Roger leaned forward on the table. ‘First things first, Pete. I know we’ve both done our fair share of whining about salespeople, but there are some very smart ones out there. And what you have to do is find them and make them your friends.’ Roger paused and gave Pete a serious look. ‘Even the bastards,’ he added.

  ‘And how do I do that? Take them out for drinks and schmooze them?’ Pete asked, a little sceptical.

  ‘Nah, simpler than that, bro. When a salesperson brings you a good client and you manage to mark his deal up by three pips, instead of taking one-and-a-half pips for yourself and giving the rest to Sales like you normally would, take only one pip and give the rest to them. And say it out loud on the trading floor when you do it, not in a bloody email,’ Roger explained.

  Pete nodded. ‘So that way they’ll come back to you looking for more pips?’ he asked.

  ‘And others will know to do the same,’ Roger added, just as Janice arrived. ‘I think we’re ready for some food please, Janice,’ Roger said.

  ‘Great, I’ll just get you some menus.’

  Roger smirked. ‘I’m going to enjoy seeing you try to go gluten-free at this place.’

  ‘Yeah, but at least I won’t fill up on bread. And I believe you’re paying tonight,’ Pete replied with a smile.

  22

  Finding some balance

  Bobby watched Liz leave for her Saturday-morning yoga class and then went over to sit on the couch to sulk. Pete went and sat next to him. ‘What do you want to do this morning, buddy?’

  Bobby grunted. ‘Nothing, I just want to sit at home and watch TV until Mummy comes back.’

  ‘Now Bobby, if you watch all of your TV now, what will you have to watch with Mummy when she comes home?’ Pete said, feeling quite proud of his opening to their negotiation.

  ‘Mummy taped lots of things for me, so I won’t run out of things to watch before she gets home,’ Bobby countered.

  ‘Bobby, you know you’re allowed to watch only an hour of TV a day. Don’t you want to save your TV time for when Mummy gets home?’ Pete replied, finessing his argument.

  Bobby sat thinking for a few seconds and then relented. ‘OK, let’s go swimming then.’

  Buoyed by his victory, Pete decided to try for more. ‘Hey Bobby, why don’t we try riding your bike again?’

  Bobby looked shyly at his father and then confessed, ‘I don’t want to. I’m scared.’

  ‘I understand, Bobby. I’m sometimes scared to learn new things too,’ Pete said sympathetically.

  Bobby looked at his father curiously and asked, ‘You are?’

  ‘Yeah, all the time,’ Pete answered. ‘But you know what?’

  Bobby shook his head. ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Sometimes if you’re brave enough and overcome your fear to try and learn something new, you find out that it’s not so scary after all. And, even better than that, there’s a whole lot of good stuff about it you didn’t even think about,’ Pete explained.

  ‘But I’m scared I’ll fall off and hurt myself again.’

  ‘Daddy made a mistake trying to teach you last time. But I won’t this time. I’ll look after you this time, I promise,’ Pete said.

  ‘Mummy says you have to keep promises,’ Bobby responded sternly.

  ‘And Mummy’s right.’

  Bobby held out his right fist with his pinkie extended. Pete looked at Bobby confused, and Bobby let out a loud sigh. ‘Pinkie promise,’ he said with exaggerated patience.

  Pete held out his right hand. ‘OK, pinkie promise.’

  Pete stood atop the rise, firmly gripping Bobby’s bike seat. ‘OK, are you ready, Bobby?’ he asked.

  ‘You’re going to hold onto me, right, Daddy?’ Bobby asked, turning around to look at Pete.

  ‘Yes, I will, buddy. I’ll only let go when you tell me to,’ Pete answered.

  ‘OK, I’m ready,’ Bobby announced with a slight quaver in his voice.

  Pete nudged the bike forward and Bobby started to peddle and quickly took up from where he had left off a few months earlier. When they had finished the run, Bobby looked back at his father with a beaming smile. ‘Wow, that was really fast, just like a rollercoaster.’

  ‘Well, maybe not quite that fast, but it was really fast, wasn’t it?’ Pete said.

  ‘Yeah, but I want to try a few more times before I go by myself, OK?’ Bobby said.

  ‘Sure buddy. As many times as you want,’ Pete replied.

  ‘Let’s go again,’ Bobby said and turned his handle bars around so Pete could start pushing him back up the slope.

  The next few runs Bobby started to pedal faster and was taking the bend in the slope with more confidence, and while Pete was tempted to let go of the bike seat, he remembered his promise to Bobby. Then at the top of one run Bobby turned to Pete. ‘Daddy, you can let go this time if you want,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure, Bobby? I can keep holding on if you want,’ Pete replied.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure, Daddy,’ Bobby answered.

  ‘All right, what if I let go h
alfway down the hill,’ Pete said.

  ‘OK, Daddy, good idea.’

  ‘Here we go then,’ Pete said, and they took off down the slope. ‘Bobby, I’m going to let go now, are you ready?’ Pete said, making sure.

  ‘Yes,’ Bobby replied as excitement replaced fear.

  Pete let go and watched the bike wobble a little and then straighten out. He tensed as Bobby approach the bend in the slope, but then saw him stop pedalling and gently squeeze the brake before taking the bend without a wobble. Pete smiled proudly. When Bobby reached the bottom of the slope he squeezed hard on his brakes, brought the bike to a stop and turned to smile proudly at Pete, who was a few steps behind. ‘Daddy, I did it!’ Bobby said, his face full of triumph.

  Pete beamed. ‘Yes, you really did Bobby. Well done!’ he said and picked Bobby up off his bike and gave him a hug. When he put Bobby back down and looked at him, Pete thought he began to see his son differently.

  ‘Do you think you could ride back up the hill?’ Pete asked.

  ‘I bet I can,’ Bobby said and quickly got back on his bike to turn it around.

  ‘I’ll give you a push to get you started,’ Pete said.

  The bike wobbled and straightened out as it had done before, and Pete stood and smiled. But as the slope grew steeper, the bike slowed and started wobbling. Bobby tried fighting the hill by shifting in his seat, but the bike slowed further and fell on its side. ‘Bobby, are you OK?’ Pete cried, rushing to his son’s side.

  Bobby grunted as he pulled himself out from underneath his bike. He stood up to inspect himself. ‘I’m fine, Daddy. Maybe we should practise a little more going downhill, before I try going uphill,’ he said turning to look at Pete with questioning eyes.

  ‘I think that’s a good idea, buddy. Hey, Bobby, do you know what the most important thing about falling off a bike is?’ Pete asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Getting straight back on,’ Pete answered.

  Bobby smiled, picked up his bike and climbed back on.

  Liz was still in her yoga outfit when she walked onto the edge of the condo playground. She looked over at Pete a few metres away and asked, ‘Where’s Bobby?’

  Pete smiled. He knew what was coming next. A couple of seconds later Bobby went whooshing by Liz on his bike, and she took a startled step backward.

  ‘Look out, Mummy, I’m riding my bike,’ Bobby said, his face beaming with pride. Bobby was now doing laps of the playground and going up and down slopes and boldly taking tighter turns.

  ‘I can see that, Bobby. But could you slow down a little, please?’ Liz yelled after him.

  Pete walked over to Liz and gave her a peck on the cheek, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance as they both watched Bobby zip around the playground. ‘Somehow, Mummy, I don’t think that’s the last time you’re going to say that.’

  Pete saw the joy on Bobby’s face as he thrust himself forward into a bold new adventure. It was the joy of living in the moment. Now that’s something I could learn from him, Pete thought to himself.

  23

  Sammy the blackbird

  Pete was plucking away at his acoustic guitar and making notes on a pad when he heard Bobby calling from down the hall. ‘I don’t want to go to sleep. I’m not tired,’ he complained.

  Pete got up from the bed with his guitar still strapped over his shoulder and opened the door to Bobby’s bedroom to see Liz sitting on Bobby’s bed trying to stare down a pouty Bobby, who had his arms crossed in defiance. Bobby looked up at Pete. ‘Daddy, I don’t want to go to sleep. I’m not tired,’ he repeated.

  Liz turned to look at Pete and sighed. ‘I’ve had enough for today. He’s overtired and been cranky and defiant all day. So, you try and reason with him.’

  ‘I’m not tired,’ Bobby said again, more forcefully.

  ‘Reason with Bobby? Are you serious?’ Pete asked incredulously.

  Liz eyed Pete’s guitar. ‘Well, why don’t you sing him something? Come to think of it, I don’t think you’ve ever sung to him,’ she observed.

  Pete realised she was right. Not even when Bobby was a baby, had Pete tried to sing him to sleep. He swung his guitar up and sat down on Bobby’s bed next to Liz, smiled and said, ‘How about this?’ as he started to pluck out the tune to ‘Lullaby’, by The Cure.

  Liz looked at Pete shocked. ‘You’re not serious?’ she asked in disbelief.

  Pete stopped playing. ‘And “Rock-A-By-Baby” has a happy ending?’

  ‘At least it doesn’t sing about a spider man having you for dinner,’ Liz responded.

  ‘I like Spider-Man, he’s funny. He beats the bad guys. He’s almost as good as Batman,’ Bobby said, weighing in on the discussion.

  Liz looked at Bobby and placed a gentle hand on his thigh. ‘It’s not that sort of spider man sweetie,’ she told him, then glanced at Pete and added, ‘Don’t worry, Daddy’s going to find something better to sing.’

  ‘But Mummy, that sounded nice,’ Bobby said.

  Pete smirked. ‘We’ll save that one for some other time, Bobby. When you’re a little older,’ he explained. Pete paused and searched his memory for another song. ‘How about this one? It’s called Sammy the Blackbird and it’s something Daddy wrote a long time ago,’ he said.

  Liz looked at Pete with surprise. ‘Wrote?’

  Pete nodded and began to pluck out the tune.

  Bobby had never seen his father play guitar or heard him sing and listened, entranced.

  Pete recalled the reason he had written the song all those years ago – to get the sadness out. He also recalled his teacher’s reaction when he had performed it in front of his high school class. ‘Sammy the Blackbird represents your spirit, doesn’t he?’ she’d asked in front of the class. Pete had tried not to blush as he answered nonchalantly, ‘Yeah, something like that.’

  He remembered the teasing and the schoolyard fight soon after, but somehow sharing the song with Bobby and Liz eased the pain of memory. Now, as he sang in his gravely baritone, hid did so with a renewed sense of happiness and hope.

  Pete smiled as he hit the final chorus and began, as he had done all those years ago in front of his class, raising his voice and the tempo to finish the song strongly. But Liz caught his eye and motioned with a frown towards Bobby, who was getting excited rather than settling down to sleep. So Pete slowed the tempo and lowered his voice to a quiet croon.

  ‘You may say I’m nothing, nothing at all

  But it’s better to have flown and learned how to fall

  Because life is for living, not killing time

  And what you call falling I call learning to fly.’

  As Pete was singing the final line of the song, Bobby was blinking more frequently and fighting off sleep. He gently finished the song, stood up quietly and watched Liz kiss Bobby on his forehead and say, ‘Good night, sweetheart.’ Bobby lay down, closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep. They both crept out of his bedroom leaving him, Pete hoped, to dream about flying.

  Liz carefully closed the bedroom door behind her and smiled at Pete. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. ‘That was wonderful. Since when did you start playing the guitar again?’ she asked.

  ‘Doctor Ong suggested I take up a hobby to help me unwind. So, I thought I’d dust off the old guitar and start messing around,’ Pete explained.

  ‘So, when are you auditioning for the Praise and Worship band at church?’ Liz asked, only half-joking.

  ‘Even if I were good enough to make the band, I’ve heard the members of the Praise and Worship team have to be at the Star hours before the first service for set up. Jesus is just all right with me at eight-thirty Sunday morning,’ Pete said with a smile.

  Liz chuckled. After a moment she asked, ‘Where did that song come from?’

  Pete blushed. ‘I wrote it a long time ago. I’ll tell you about it sometime.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Liz said, caressing his arm. ‘So now that you’re out
of retirement, Bobby’s going to want a performance every night. And you’ll need a list of appropriate songs. “Lullaby” by The Cure, really?’ Liz said, clipping Pete playfully on the shoulder.

  Pete gave her a mischievous smile. ‘Yeah, I thought you’d like that one.’

  ‘Now I know where little Bobby gets his cheekiness from,’ Liz said. ‘I’m going to the study to print you off some appropriate songs,’ she said and headed down the hallway.

  Pete smiled as he watched Liz walk away. Getting back into the playful banter they had once enjoyed was a sign that they were becoming friends again, which was an important part of the connection they had once shared.

  24

  Winning the lottery

  Pete punched some keys on his dealer board and winced.

  ‘What’s with that?’ Johnno asked.

  ‘Been playing Lego with Bobby. Damn stuff’s tough on the fingers,’ Pete replied.

  ‘You’re getting soft, mate. Imagine what your old man would say if he heard you saying that?’ Johnno mocked.

  Pete smiled. ‘Yeah, he’d give it to me. Say Johnno, what’ve we got on today?’ he asked, shifting the conversation. ‘I’m hoping for a quiet one so that I can wind down my positions before I head off on holiday.’

  ‘Right, so you’re off for the big wedding anniversary tomorrow after lunch?’ Johnno said. ‘What’ve you got planned? It’s the big number ten, right?’

  ‘Yep, so I’ve gone all out. A dinner booked at Waku Ghin for their ten-course degustation and then a night in a suite at MBS.’

  ‘Swish,’ Johnno said, nodding his approval.

  ‘Then we’re off to Hoi An for a week. Think you and Luke can handle the Desk without me?’ he asked playfully.

  ‘I think we’ll manage. And as for today, we’ve just got Oz Lotto,’ Johnno said, answering Pete’s original question.

  Pete looked confused. ‘Oz Lotto?’