On Goodbye and Knowing You're Not Alone

"You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it."
-Robin Williams


Hey guys,

This is likely going to be my final entry before I get on the train to Belgium on Sunday. There's so much left to write about, and so little time. People have asked me to keep writing once I get home, and I'm not really sure what to do. Writing has always been therapeutic for me, but most of what I write is private. This little thingy here is something of a diary for the people back at home (when they bother to read it), and in my vanity, I was rather proud of the whole "Gianni is no longer In Transit" bit. Perhaps I'll start a new blog, although I can't see myself updating it as regularly as I've done with this one.

The breakup-goggles are squarely on, and London has been beautiful in the past week. For all of the crap I went through in the past six months, this city will forever be one of the most aesthetically pleasing places where I've ever lived. There's so much history, so much to do. There's free museums everywhere, and there's nothing like walking in Westminster or taking the Thames path around sunset. The City skyline and the distant towers of Canary Wharf, the Royal Parks and the hidden streets of West London, the pubs on the bank of the river... 

London did its very best to ensure there'd be even more to enjoy in the past week. The Spectra-artwork they placed in Victoria was truly breathtaking, and I still can't understand how something so simple could be so moving. It was basically a collection of lights which from close up lit up every dust-particle in the sky, but when you saw it from a distance, it was a single beam of light shooting up from the centre of the city. It went on for ever and ever, and I didn't travel to a single part of London from which I couldn't see it in the week that it was here. I had a great view from my window as well, and I swear to God, I must have spent hours looking at it.

Then there was the Supermoon, which everyone could obviously see. But over the skyline of London, it truly was something special.

Also, there was free Ben & Jerry's ice cream this week. Winning.

Now, we've all heard of this week's big news, the death of one Robin Williams. It's funny how everyone seemed moved by the passing of a comedian when IS are doing their thing in the Arab world and Palestine is a mess, but that is a whole different discussion. For me, Robin Williams was an actor who played in some of my favourite films of all time. Working with Turner Media we got wind of his passing quite quickly through CNN, and it was actually nice to see the world realise what had happened, and the slow, steady stream of condolences getting started.

His passing hit close to home for an entirely different reason, however. Stories of mental health always strike me quite hard, and this one was no different. The way certain news outlets and celebrities reacted to his passing were sub-human, and hundreds of journalists ignored any sense of deontology we work with when it comes to reporting suicides (which are contagious, in case you didn't know. I know that sounds odd, but there's plenty of scientific studies that back up this phenomenom).

In the year 2014, the stigma surrounding mental health issues should be long gone. The fact people still regard it as a weakness is the main reason so many people suffering with depression or worse never take the single most important step we all have to make--seek medical attention. Finding a qualified professional to help you when times get rough is vital, and one of the first steps one takes in the process of recovering.

I know I'm a terrible example of this, which is why I'm typing these words. Because, as much as I wish it wasn't so, I know several of the people reading this, and the struggle they face every day :) I'm 25 years old, and I've made plenty of bad decisions. But the single biggest mistake I ever made was to dwell on my transgressions, and allow the mistakes I made in the past to determine my future.

I know now that at any given moment, there at least five persons in this world I could call if I'm having a bad day. I know these people will either pick up the phone or get back to me as soon as they can, and the only thing they want to do is help. For years I told myself (and I still do to this day) the reason I never picked up the phone is because of some missplaced sense of heroism, that I don't wish to bother other people with my issues. Life can be tough enough as it is--there's no need to burden others with my own problems.

And that's one of the biggest lies I tell myself on a regular basis. Because the truth is, the reason I don't pick up the phone is because I'm a coward. I'm afraid of what these people will think of me, and how they'll react. I'm afraid that what I say will push these people away, when I know full well all they want is what's best for me. 

The point I'm trying to make is that we all have these people, even if we don't realise it or refuse to accept it (and there are days I completely do the latter and feel like I'm the loneliest 25-year-old on this planet). I will never, ever pretend to know what it is you're going through, because it simply isn't possible. But I also promise you right here and right now that I will never hang up the phone if you're in need of help. Ever. 

I've come a long way, but there are still plenty of days I want the whole world to burn. Those are the days I question my very existance, and the intentions of the people who tell me they'll always be there for me. The days I think it'd be better if I simply lied down and stopped breathing, and I dwell on everything that has happened, everything that hasn't happened and everything that should happen, but never will.

Those days pass. We're all allowed to feel like that sometimes, and those of us who have that dreaded piece of paper that says we have a legitimate excuse to pop pills and curse the world should never feel ashamed of some of the dark, dreary thoughts that accompany those days. But neither should anybody else. It's okay. And I promise you, the day will pass. It always does, and if you feel like it won't, I will gladly pick up the phone. Not to tell you it'll be okay; to listen to why it isn't right now. Because in the end, sometimes that's all we need.

I apologise to the casual readers or those of you who have no idea when I talk about my experiences with mental health issues. It's hardly relevant now--I promised myself I wouldn't allow anything a doctor told me to define who I am a long time ago, and it's one of the few promises I made to myself that I've been able to keep.

On a side note: If you have no experience with mental health and what it can do to a person, and you are of the opinion Robin Williams "should have or could have," I invite you to educate yourself on the subject. I won't pretend to know or understand what the man went through in his final years or final hours. But for those of us who fight this fight every single day, the realisation that your life's work is either complete or has gone to waste can be devastating, and it can hit you at any given time. If you add alcohol or substance-abuse to the mix, you end up with a deadly cocktail. As for me, I will stick to the same message I posted when I first found out. Have a safe journey, my Captain, and thank you for everything. And don't forget: Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning.

Well, this is not what I had intended my final blogpost to look like :D I apologise once again. I'm in the middle of the first wave of packing, with two full suitcases being picked up by a special company tomorrow (between the hours of 9am and 5pm, because it's not like I work night shifts and need sleep). It looks like I'll easily get all of my stuff home, and I'll be donating quite a bit of clothing to charity anyway (they won't lay a finger on my books. Greedy bastards). I'll be working tomorrow, and I've taken time off from work until the 20th of August. My dad's leaving on a holiday the day after I get home (the 18th, that is) and I have to be at home on the 19th to collect my luggage. I also have a bit of laundry to do, but that can wait.

Saturday is reserved for drinks with Elise and her Belgian friend, and I still need to pick up some stuff for my brother and find a birthday present for my dad (I still haven't figured out what to get). If there's anything you want/need from London, please let me know asap. 

For those of you who want to meet up once I get home: I'll do my best to accomodate you as much as I can (there's quite a few of you), but remember that I'll be busy with work and finding an appartement asap (I'll invite you to the house-warming, if my roomie signs off on your presence. Deal? Don't worry, if you're funny or you have boobs he'll be cool) and I no longer have a car. Belgian public transport isn't nearly the well-oiled machine I've gotten used to here in London (although, in fairness, TFL is quite pricey), but I'll still need some time to save up enough money to buy a decent car (I'm not buying another Rover with a fried electrical circuit, and I'll have my doubts about a Mercedes that refuses to start less than 24 hours before I have to do my driver's exam, and the place it stalls is my ex-girlfriends' driveway minutes before her parents get home. "Awkward" doesn't even begin to cover it). Oh, and I don't plan on going anywhere :) so there's no rush.

So, feel free to contact me and I'll see what I can do. No Pat, I'm not coming to the August 23rd birthday-bash. I can't come back to London days after leaving and I'll already be missing the Doctor Who season premiere because I'm working late. I can't believe you'd plan a birthday-bash on that day. But thank you for introducing me to the genius that is gin&tonic.

Okay, I guess that's it. Like I said, there's so much left to write. Akercoke spoke of "Words that Go Unspoken, Deeds That Go Undone," but in my experience, it's vital a writer learns when to stop. I don't want to end this. All of this, it all went wrong right from the start. I've always hated endings and goodbyes, but a story can't be complete without an ending. This isn't my story--it's the end of one of the strangest chapters of my life. But if you ask me, I'm just getting started.

Take care everyone. I'll be seeing you.


Song of the day: This band is something of an indie-cult band, as they wrote the song that's used as the opening theme for the truly amazing Community ( At Least It Was Here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEGbjR1Y9Qo ). They also had a cameo appearance in How I met Your Mother, as Lily and Marshall's wedding band (remember the episode where they crashed a high school prom to check out whether they could play their song? Yeah, that's them). They're actually not bad at all, and I've been listening to this song quite a bit in the past few days.
The 88 - No One Here (acoustic version)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNeETStJek0