Even today in many rural communities, talking about how you feel in public is taboo. The unspoken rule is that if you can’t get a grip, it’s because you’re weak.

That attitude, real or perceived, means many people keep their feelings to themselves. If you don’t want to suffer ridicule, don’t talk about how you’re depressed — especially if you’re a man.

Fortunately, cracks in that unspoken rule are appearing in farm country. Recently, I attended a soil conservation field day at Roger Wenning’s farm near Greensburg, Ind. He invited Nathan Brown, a no-till farmer from Hillsboro, Ohio, to speak.

Brown didn’t talk about cover crops. Instead, he talked about mental health — his own. It hasn’t been up to par this year after the death of a close friend. No one gasped. No one laughed. No one told him to sit down. In fact, when he finished, I was so moved that I told my own story in public.

Let it out

My plate was full in 1998 with four active children, traveling, writing and carrying out leadership duties at church. Very early one Sunday morning, after a contentious church meeting, I woke up, certain I was having a heart attack. I felt pain, ached, tingled and simply didn’t have control.

As it turns out, it was a panic attack. But I didn’t know it then. I made it through the day, but that began a downward spiral where I felt claustrophobic at meetings and unsure of myself all the time.

Then one Sunday, a cousin of mine pulled me aside. She could tell something was wrong. I didn’t hold back. I told her the truth. To my surprise, she said I needed to talk to her husband. He went through the same thing a few months earlier. What? One of the calmest leaders in the church? No way!

Call him, she insisted. I did. His advice was simple. Make a list of everything that was stressing me out. So, I did, that very night. When the list zoomed past 20 things, it dawned on me that it was no wonder I had experienced panic attacks.

I visited my local doctor the next day and started sharing my list. By the time I reached No. 5, he’d heard enough. “You’re stressed, Tom,” he said. “It’s not weakness, it’s a chemical imbalance — a condition, brought on by stress. We can prescribe medicine to help.”

He did. It wasn’t a quick fix or an easy fix. It took adjusting to the medicine and waiting for results, plus letting go of some things in my life that weren’t that important.

The bottom line is that I sought help before it was too late. Help is out there, and not always through medicine. It might be through talking things out with someone who understands your situation.

After I finished speaking at the field day, I told Brown I was sure he was on the road to recovery. He had taken a big step — opening up about his situation. He went one step further — sharing it with others to encourage them to take that first step, too.

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