Depression, anxiety or insomnia. These words mean something different to every person who hears them. You could ask two people to explain them and, the answers could be completely different.
I can’t speak for anyone else but they all hurt in their own “special” way. They have a way of taking something from you, that you can never get back.
I used to love being around people. I don’t know when it changed but it did. It got to the point where I couldn’t even stand to be on stage anymore. Think about this for a second…
I was a musician. Being on stage was my whole life. How did I get to the point where the only way I could tolerate doing what I loved was to be absolutely fucked out of my mind on some substance. Sure, I looked happy. Didn’t we all?
That escalated quickly…
I had a lot of fun time when I was fucked up. It was the sober times that really hurt. That feeling of being so alone that you seriously start to wonder if anyone would notice if you were dead. It seriously felt like the i was standing still and the world was rushing around me.
I not gonna lie. I tried to kill myself. I just wanted to pain to end. I knew something wasn’t right in my head and all I kept hearing was that I just needed to get over it. How the fuck is that supposed to be helpful? Then the shaming started. people started calling me selfish, a coward. I’m going to say it now and let you think about it long and hard. These are the people that make it fucking hard for us to ask for help.
All I wanted was for someone to listen to what I had to say without telling me that I was full of shit. It took a lot out of me. I had to find a place in my head where I didn’t need to get over it. I learned to embrace the insanity in my head. Hell, it makes for some entertaining writing.
All of that brought me to a point where I had to answer a question. Am I willing to let someone fall the way I did? Not if I can help it.