I Need To Talk...

What I'm going through, and how I hope to come out the other side

This isn’t going to be easy. For one thing, this is a site dedicated to coverage of the Colorado Avalanche and NHL, not to the personal problems of Adrian Dater.

I hate talking about my problems in a public way. I don’t want sympathy, because I know I’ve had a very good life overall, especially professionally. Being a sports writer was really all I ever wanted to do in life. Every year since 1990, I’ve been paid by someone to write words. I’ve traveled the world writing about sports, paid for by others. I’ve interviewed some of the most famous people on the planet, in sports history. I’ve ridden on airplanes talking hockey, and life in general, with people like Joe Sakic and Patrick Roy and Peter Forsberg and Pierre Lacroix. How cool is that? I know it is and will be eternally grateful for that.

But I’m struggling, big time. And, writing about it, getting some of it out in the open, might be part of my salvation. I’m not sure. Again, this is scary and uncomfortable to me. I have put out a couple of tweets lately saying I’m going through some dark times, and so I feel it’s only right to mention it here too, on my own site.

I don’t want to get into the actual specifics of what’s going on in my life right now. Like, I don’t want to get into truly deep, private specifics, because there are other peoples’ feelings involved too that wouldn’t be fair to them.

I just want you to know that I’m really struggling in my own mind and that I need to work on that and really get some help.

I have always been a worrier. When I was five or six years old, I started to realize “We’re all going to die.” And that scared me to death (no pun intended) as a little kid. I would think “Wait, what? You mean, some day I’ll be dead and that will be forever and ever and ever and ever….” So, I worried about dying young pretty much from that day on.

When I first got my dream job of covering the Avalanche as a full-time staff writer with the Denver Post in 1995, I often had overpowering anxieties of dying in a plane crash right away. I feared flying because of that, and on many occasions in those first few years, I had panic attacks on the plane. I would stress for days in advance getting on that next plane. Any kind of turbulence and I would always do this: I would grip the bottom of seat as hard as I could with one hand and cover my face with the other and just pray, pray pray and make all kinds of bargains with God to land safely. It was hypocritical, of course. I wasn’t going to church at the time and didn’t follow through on any of the promises I made to God. Once we landed, I would forget all about it and go check into the hotel and go on with my otherwise merry life.

Well, not “merry.” I went through a divorce in 1998, after a two-year marriage, and was suicidal for a while in the early stages of it. I remember one very bad time, in Anaheim, sometime in the ‘98-99 season, and I was at the top of a great, comfy hotel and thinking seriously about jumping out the window and ending it all.

A marriage therapist from Denver I had at the time talked me down when I called him (I’m grateful he was there to take my call). I also vividly remember the next night. I covered the Avs-Ducks game, and after the game, in the locker room, I had something of an epiphany. I remember talking to Chris Drury and Keith Jones, just as normal guys. I told Jonesie a tiny bit about my situation, and I’ll never forget just his overall “you’ll get through this, and you can always talk to guys like me if you need to” sentiment. I realized that, in a weird way, I had something of a family with this team and these guys and that that was really good and really valuable. I got much better very quickly after that. I realized that these guys had plenty of stress and personal problems in their lives too, and it didn’t matter how much money they had.

For me to realize that really helped me. But then I would often drift along in my later years. I had a new wife and a son, whom I both cherished, but there was often still something empty inside me. No matter how much personal success I might have, I always had low self esteem. I mean, the irony of me saying that is: a lot of people in life, especially in the media business, thought of me as arrogant, stuck-up.

That was my fault. Yeah, there were times I was pretty full of myself. I thought I was pretty hot shit a lot of the time. I mean, I don’t think I ever truly felt superior to anyone.

But three things: 1. I’m pretty shy overall with people. Very often, you have to make the “first move” with me before I open up to you. Once that happens, I’m usually very open and can seem like your best friend. 2. I grew up being bullied a fair amount in high school. I was 6-5, 135 pounds and awkward as hell. I was picked on all the time about being so skinny. It was vicious at times, and made me close off from the world for a while and bemoan everything. 3. But then I discovered weight lifting and reading books by Arnold Schwarzenegger and, starting right after I graduated from high school, I worked out probably six days a week. Within a couple years, I was 6-6, 215 pounds and could curl 185 pounds with a barbell for eight reps. I could do a set of 10 tricep dips with an 85-pound dumbbell strapped into my weight belt. After that, nobody picked on me anymore. I still remember the feelings of satisfaction when I went back home from summers during college and seeing the looks on the faces of some of my biggest high-school tormentors.

“Yeah, you got anything to say to me now, motherfucker?” If I shook hands with them, I made sure to make it hurt a little for them. But, otherwise, I let my “revenge” be just that, with no actual violence. “Living well is the best revenge” goes the saying, and it’s true.

But here’s one thing that takes a long time to get rid of: that chip on your shoulder, whenever you think someone is showing you disrespect. In my experience anyway, whenever that happened, even when all big and strong and with a killer job, it would feel like I was transported right back to that skinny high-school kid and I’d get right in their face with probably an over-the-top reaction. I was overcompensating for things I wished I had done earlier.

Many FU’s with guys on the street or in a bar or, especially, while driving. I would guess that, at least five times, I chased people all over the highway who flipped me the bird for whatever reason, then pulled over to the side of the road and wanted them to stop and fight. Only once did someone take me up on that. And you know what? Cooler heads prevailed, and we both realized how stupid we were and shook hands and moved on. I believe that was the last time I ever did that - probably 15 years ago or so.

So, it was easy for me to think of many, many people as potential “bullies” again, in my profession or outside of it. That helped create an unhealthy, paranoid worldview a lot of the time. I would sometimes imagine people were ganging up on me and react preemptively, if that makes any sense at all. Sometimes I would look for trouble where it didn’t exist. It’s not healthy, and it’s a pattern of thought that has lingered with me to this day.

I have often been my own worst enemy too. A big mouth too much of the time. Some alcohol and prescription drug issues, to try and relax. You can say and do some otherwise out-of-character things when on booze and sleeping pills, I learned. My career suffered because of that. And I have tremendous guilt about that still.

But, one good thing to say about me at least: I worked to understand that better and did some good work to be better from it. I tried some other things, such as being a regular substitute teacher in a tough public school district. I think I helped a bunch of kids, and that will always feel good to me.

But I realized that writing is what I do best, where I never feel nervous or anxious about and what best paid the bills.

Yet, here I am still - anxious and depressed. Some of this is personal, some of this is professional. Yet, all it has been with me most of my life - no matter how good things have been otherwise.

I don’t quite know what to do about it anymore. I do believe that I need more spirituality in my life. I’ve always thought, all the time, about God and what all this means and what I’m supposed to be in His eyes. But I’ve been stubborn. Too often in my life, I’ve gotten very comfortable and didn’t think I need God or anybody else.

But I know I do. It’s going to be hard for me on that front, though. I have many, many tough questions for God, that I don’t think I’d be satisfied with on the answers. Why do kids get tortured and die at a young age? Why do otherwise good people get murdered suddenly? Why do parents lose their kids to cancer at a young age? Why do so many people, who don’t care at all about God, get so much material and financial comfort, while those that do care live in poverty? To me, that’s not justice at all. And, with my lifelong pattern of guilt, I feel bad about that.

I still love writing about the Avalanche. That’s pretty much been the one thing that’s always gotten me through some tough times. So, I don’t want to stop doing that - even though I’ve had some obstacles put in my way since going to my own site here.

I still have good sources, though, and feel like I’m right up on what’s going on with the team. I’ve covered the team from Day 1, and I take a lot of pride in that.

So, what I’m asking here is: I hope you let me continue to do this and I can work my way out of things and tell a happier personal story before long. I want to pay things forward finally, and stop feeling so selfish. I know I have to give up a lot of my personal ego and foolish pride, and some anger and other psychological issues, to do that.

It’s going to be hard, and right now I’m scared about this. But I hope to come out the other side. Thanks for listening and I welcome your comments, pro or con. And if you’re going through some really tough stuff, know this: you’re not alone. Talk about it, get it out and I think you’ll feel a bit better.