My life is, by every objective measurement, very very good.
And in spite of all of that, I struggle every day with my self esteem, my self worth, and my value not only as an actor and writer, but as a human being.
That’s because I live with Depression and Anxiety, the tag team champions of the World Wrestling With Mental Illness Federation.
Yeah. I tried talking about once with my grandma because I had been failing college courses after my mom lied about vitamin pills and forced me to take them, (they were prozac) and it fucked with my brain chemistry so bad I couldn’t eat or sleep and the world felt like a dream where anything outside a small bubble simply didn’t exist to my brain. Like I could see it but my brain would not acknowledge it’s existence. The exact words I got back from her were “What such bullshit!” in a very angry tone.
I haven’t even been able to think about mentioning anything related to my anxiety and depression since then to anybody I know irl because I’m afraid of that response again. There’s a really bad social stigma in the states about only weak minded people have mental disorders and we can’t get the help we desperately need. It’s especially worse if you’re a male because then you’re not real man in the eyes of your peers. It makes trying to function at work nearly impossible, it makes trying to go out and do basic errands difficult, it makes keeping social relationships difficult. I’ve lost count of the friends I’ve lost contact with because all I want to do is just sit in a dark quiet room by myself most days. The isolation is crushing. I have a friend that keeps trying to get me to “come back” as it were and I’m trying, I really am but I struggle to find the energy to do so and I don’t know what to do anymore at 36 years old. Life gets just a little shitter every day and I already feel like I’m well beyond my breaking point and the only think keeping me going is fear of being homeless.
