On Writing Down the Things You Can't Really Say

"It's too late to articulate it
That empty feeling
You share the same fate as the people you hate
You build yourself up against others' feelings
And it left you feeling empty as a car coasting downhill
I have become such a negative person
It was all just an act
It was all so easily stripped away
But if we learn how to live like this
Maybe we can learn how to start again
Like a child who's never done wrong
Who hasn't taken that first step"

-Will Toledo

I have gone back and forth on writing and/or publishing this particular post, but after talking it over with some friends I have decided to go ahead and let you all in on what I have been dealing with mentally in the last year or so. It might be helpful to those of you who have wondered what has been going on, and it might do some good to put it all down to paper as well. Please be warned that this is not going to be short, coherent or pleasant. TW suicidal 

Depression has been a semi-regular part of my life for the past 15 years or so, at least to some extent. A part of me has always felt unhappy with my lot in life for as long as I can remember. For years I was able to give it a place in my head and forget about it, or to put things into perspective. "I'm still young, things aren't so bad etc etc" got me through life for so long I lost track of the fact that being as unhappy with life as I was is not healthy. I was literally going to bed hoping the next day would be better just about every single night. It's something I should have tackled years ago, but I always pushed it back and minimised my unhappiness. "My time will come" was my life's motto, as I ploughed ahead. 

By the middle of 2021 I was slowly starting to slide, and the first time I noticed something was seriously wrong was when my dad married his longtime partner. These are two people I care for deeply, and I should have been happy for them. Yet on the day of the wedding I noticed something was off. I didn't feel right, I wanted to go home and it hurt to look at my dad and his beautiful wife. 

In the months that followed friends started getting engaged, announced pregnancies or had other great milestones to celebrate, and every single time that feeling returned, but worse. These are all people I love dearly and I have celebrated with for decades, yet all of a sudden I could no longer do it. I felt like the biggest jackass in the world, unable to be happy for the people I love, and that feeling only made things worse. In hindsight this should have been a massive red flag that something was seriously wrong, but like always, I pushed ahead.

This is probably a good time to explain that I have been single for nearly all of the last decade. Some portions of that were by choice, most were not. The fact I couldn't find a partner while literally all of my friends settled down and started doing adult things like buying houses or planning their future always kind of bothered me, but I mostly shrugged it off. Just bad luck. My time will come. Good things come to those who wait. All of that good stuff.

.Toward the end of 2021 desperation started to kick in. I felt uneasy and worried about my mental state and the fact everyone was moving ahead while I wasn't. I met a pretty amazing woman I went on a few fun dates with, but at this point my slide had already turned into an avalanche and it messed up just about every single decision I made. I ultimately gave her a good reason to turn me away, which she did mere minutes before another pregnancy was announced. And once that happened, I snapped.

---------------------------------------

The panic attacks started that night. It was scary for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because I had absolutely no control over them. I was afraid to leave the house or get behind the wheel of a car. I couldn't go to work. I couldn't do anything except curl up into a ball and cry. 

I developed a severe social anxiety almost immediately that manifests itself in a physical desire to hide. When I had a full-on panic attack in the middle of Brussels at night in April I fled into the nearest storefront, just so I could hide from friends. When that didn't work I desperately tried to cover up using my coat. Whenever the attacks come I don't want to be seen, and the easiest way to accomplish that is by staying home.

Going out with friends scares the hell out of me. Since that first attack I've been present for a number of big social occasions (celebrations, barbeques, random nights at someone's home etc...) and every single time things go bad. In small groups I can usually manage, but in larger ones I start getting anxious after a short while. Conversations start passing me by and all I hear is static. I need to get out and just want to go home. I feel like an ass for feeling this way and not wanting to be a party pooper, and that makes things worse.

It doesn't help that, for obvious reasons, all my friends can talk about is basically babies and weddings. This makes perfect sense and is something I of course can't and won't blame them for. It's by far the biggest and most important thing happening in their lives right now. Under normal circumstances I would want to talk to them about these very things for hours. But right now, all I see is what I don't have. Going round to friends' houses is a constant reminder of the things they have that I don't. Holiday pictures on the walls cut deep, because I never had this. These homes are filled with memories and all I can feel is envy and sadness, even if I was actually there for some of those memories.

I've also lost all sense of enjoyment. A few weeks ago I went to a concert from one of my favourite bands and cried my eyes out when I realised I didn't want to be there. I wasn't having any fun, while thousands of people around me were. The old me would have been dancing, drinking, shouting and loving life. The realisation I just wanted to go home hit me like a ton of bricks. Every single major social encounter has been like that. It's something I'm trying to work through, but it's so disappointing every single time and it makes me feel so much worse. I go home more broken than before, and it takes me days to recover. In the end it's far easier to just stay home.

---------------------------------------

All of this would be pretty f*cking bad by itself, but unfortunately there's one more kicker that has sent this avalanche into overdrive. You see, when I said I have been single for nearly all of the last decade, that's because I met someone and entered into a brief relationship earlier this year. I am not going to go too deep into what happened (that might be for another time) or how much damage was caused by everything that went down in the weeks before and after our breakup (quite a bit). All I'll say is that for a very short time I felt genuinely happy in a way I hadn't in 10 years, and it felt like my time had finally come after all this waiting. When it was taken from me almost immediately and for seemingly no good reason it left me absolutely devastated.

But apart from that devastation another thought burrowed its way into my mind, and one that has pushed my depression to a scary place. This woman gave up on me without putting any effort into saving our relationship, and it made me feel completely worthless. Unwanted and unlovable. This person was as lonely and as broken as I was, and she still walked away in the blink of an eye. It was easy, like none of it had meant anything to her and I wasn't worth even the slightest effort, the bare minimum.

It destroyed what little there was left of my self esteem. I now know and understand our breakup wasn't my fault, but my subconscious didn't care. My mind started analysing everything, all of the years of loneliness, all of the negativity I had felt all of this time and came to a singular conclusion: That I am not worthy of anything good. All of the people around me have succeeded in finding their happiness and I have not, because I am a loser and not worthy. None of my friends or coworkers have ever offered to set me up with a single friend, because they don't believe I'm good enough for their other friends or have anything to offer. I am a pathetic excuse of a man who has achieved nothing, and no one could ever love someone like that. 

I'm not an Incel; I don't blame anyone but myself (and I have actually had sex this decade). But if no one in all those years has decided to hitch their wagon to mine, what other conclusion is there than to believe they're right to do so and I am not worthy? If I have nothing at all to offer, why would anyone want to be with me? 

I think it's one of the reasons why I've thrown myself into physical fitness as hard as I have. It's one of the few ways my twisted mind can think of right now to better myself. I have nothing else. Fitness has in a way become my identity, because I feel like there is nothing else even remotely interesting or good about me. 

So that's where I find myself. Feeling unwanted, unworthy and unlovable. Unhappy with my life in every single way, and unlike in the past, bereft of the hope and belief things will ever improve. I have been telling myself for year things will get better and they never do. What reason is there left to believe it will? And if you no longer believe things will get better and every day feels like hell on earth, like you're only dragging yourself through the day for the sake of others... I'm not going to sugarcoat things; there have been times in the last few months where a "permanent solution" to my issues didn't just feel like a realistic option, but an inevitability.

---------------------------------------

So what's next? I think the most important part is that I learn to love myself again, and realise that I have worth. That I do bring positive things to this world and it's better with me in it. That people care about me, not just because they want me to get better but because they actually like me. 

Once I can do that hopefully joy will return, and I can actually visit my friends without fear. Maybe go on a holiday or to a concert and enjoy the experience, rather than dread it. My therapist seems to think all I really need is to find the right partner, or at least someone who shows a genuine interest in me and convinces me there is in fact a reason someone would want to be with me. 

I quit my job last week and will probably take a little bit of time for myself in September, maybe travel a bit. I haven't surfed in too long and I think it will do me good. I'm a little scared of traveling by myself given my current mental state, but sooner or later I'm going to have to push through the boundaries I have pulled up for myself.

I'm taking my pills, occasionally meeting with friends and I'll actually go speeddating in August (yeah, I know). I *think* I'm doing alright, but then again, I was convinced I was on the right track in February and nearly jumped out of a sixth-story window in May so... My mental health has resembled a wave since all of this started, and the good and bad keep getting more extreme. I'm a little scared to find out just how deep the next trench will be.

To the friends and family who haven't seen all that much of my since the turn of the year: Now you know why. I'm really sorry I haven't been there for you. I really wish I could share all the good times, and I remain hopeful I'll get better and will be seeing far more from you again soon. I love you so much.

Song of the Day: Car Seat Headrest - Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccztRby3FAk

On Mental and Physical Health

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colours. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”
― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

In December of last year a lengthy, ongoing and losing battle with my mental health finally caught up to me. A series of escalating events in my personal life led to a number of bad decisions and an eventual complete breakdown. A few days before Christmas Eve I cracked and suffered my first panic attack, and then another and another.. My entire world felt like it was crashing around me, and all I wanted to do was lock myself away and let everything pass me by.

The worst of it hit me on December 22nd. It wasn't exactly rock-bottom (that was still to come), but it did prove a turning point. I admitted to myself I was in trouble, reached out to friends and family and started looking for professional help. 

One day later I made a deal with myself, to take six months to get to a better place mentally and figure out a way forward. At the same time I made a vow to work on my physical health as well and get in the best shape possible. I was acutely aware mental health improvements aren't linear and can't be seen or measured, and I wanted to give myself a secondary goal, something I could actually track. Working on my physical health would give me a purpose and add structure at a time when I desperately needed it. Observing my physical transformation would serve as a daily reminder I was growing mentally as well. 

So here we are, six months later. It's safe to say the physical transformation was a success. I'm easily in the best shape of my life and still enjoying the workouts and regimented lifestyle. My current physique has boosted my self-esteem at a time when I sorely needed it, and if I'm totally honest, it wasn't even all that hard getting into this shape.

By comparison, trying to work on my mental health has been significantly harder. Admitting I couldn't do this on my own and accepting that it's OK to feel this way is one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm not quite sure if I'm in a better place today than I was six months ago. What I do know, and I don't say this lightly, is that without the love and support of my friends and family, as well as the guidance of a trained professional, I would not be alive to tell you about my experiences today. 

Which is why I'm writing you today, hitting the "publish" button on one of these blogposts for the first time since 2015. Mental health is hard sometimes. Dealing with this can be a giant clusterf*ck and so often it feels like the road to recovery is just too goddamn complicated. That's OK. Maybe there's someone out there who needs to hear it's OK, in which case sharing all of this will have been worth it.

If you have any questions regarding mental health, where to go to if you need help or you just want someone to listen to you for a while, don't hesitate to reach out. It was a huge help for me to talk freely about this stuff and I'll gladly repay the favour if anyone wants it. 

Please, find some help if you need it. I know it's scary, but it's worth it. Talk to the people close to you. They love you and they'll support you, if you'll let them. I have never felt lonelier than I have have in the past few months, but I know that a whole bunch of people who care deeply about me are just a phone call away. Whenever I don't feel like fighting any longer, it's those people who motivate me to keep it up, anyhow.

Anyone looking for some nutritional advice or my workout plan, you can hit me up as well. 

-------------

Yes, this silly blog will be returning in some shape or form. In the past writing things down helped me organise my emotions and process things much better than simply sitting alone with my thoughts. It's also a handy way of letting people know how I'm actually doing, because it's much easier to write about things here.

I have no idea how consistent I will be with this or what direction we will be heading; I'll probably write a little on working out and the likes, but I'll likely also discuss my ongoing struggles with (social) anxiety, depression, self-esteem problems and all the rest. Not all of it is going to be pleasant. And since I haven't done any real writing in years, it might not even be any good. Sorry.

Talk soon. 

Song of the day: Marietta - God Bless Eric Taylor

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wiO7grkqS9Y

PS: Special thanks to Lieven Dewitte ( https://lievendewittephotography.be/ ). This photoshoot took me miles out of my comfort zone (which is partly why I did it) and could have been an incredibly awkward experience. Instead it was a highly pleasant one, and I would definitely recommend his services for your future photographic needs.