Comedian Pete Holmes on depression and negative emotion.

Take care of yourself Kid Cudi.

Kid Cudi just posted about going to rehab for treatment, dealing with depression and suicidal ideation.

This is his post:

Its been difficult for me to find the words to what Im about to share with you because I feel ashamed. Ashamed to be a leader and hero to so many while admitting I've been living a lie. It took me a while to get to this place of commitment, but it is something I have to do for myself, my family, my best friend/daughter and all of you, my fans.
Yesterday I checked myself into rehab for depression and suicidal urges. 

I am not at peace. I haven't been since you've known me. If I didn't come here, I wouldve done something to myself. I simply am a damaged human swimming in a pool of emotions everyday of my life. Theres a ragin violent storm inside of my heart at all times. Idk what peace feels like. Idk how to relax. My anxiety and depression have ruled my life for as long as I can remember and I never leave the house because of it. I cant make new friends because of it. I dont trust anyone because of it and Im tired of being held back in my life. I deserve to have peace. I deserve to be happy and smiling. Why not me? I guess I give so much of myself to others I forgot that I need to show myself some love too. I think I never really knew how. Im scared, im sad, I feel like I let a lot of people down and again, Im sorry. Its time I fix me. Im nervous but ima get through this. 

I wont be around to promote much, but the good folks at Republic and my manager Dennis will inform you about upcoming releases. The music videos, album release date etc. The album is still on the way. Promise. I wanted to square away all the business before I got here so I could focus on my recovery.

If all goes well ill be out in time for Complexcon and ill be lookin forward to seeing you all there for high fives and hugs. 

Love and light to everyone who has love for me and I am sorry if I let anyone down. I really am sorry. Ill be back, stronger, better. Reborn. I feel like shit, I feel so ashamed. Im sorry. 

I love you,
Scott Mescudi

You can read it on his facebook.

The Atlantic has a piece up on masculinity, race and depression.

I just wish him love and support. It's rough, I know how he feels, and words are never enough. I wish him a warm blanket and a deep hug. Hot tea and a cuddle. A soft bed and clean sheets. Sun on his face. A hearty laugh. A friendly dog. Those little things help for me, I hope his little things help for him. Small comforts.

My chest aches in recognition.

Don't do that.

Friday morning I was predictably masochistic and checked out a bunch of facebook accounts of people I'm not longer friend with (but we still have common friends). It made me feel so shitty. I got up feeling fucking weird, and had a lot of shame about my life, and where I'm at now (on paper: living with my mom, being broke, being overweight) and I was just going to spiral.

I made my way into the city, and while I was making my coffee at work I started thinking about why I wasn't friends with these people, and if I did, indeed, want to re-establish this links, and if I missed them, and if so, why. I had a conversation with myself.

I miss the lightheartedness of that time of my life, and maybe the ignorance of it. It was pre-everything. I think the roots and "warning signs" of my anxiety and depression were indeed there, but they had not taken over yet, and there was still the energy of my youth, the prospects of the future, and a lot of unknowns.

I think I do hold a lot of shame and a lot of guilt about my body, and about my 20's.

I'm friends with great people now. My friends are totally different. They're supportive. They're empathetic. They're wildly smart. Things are different now, and I played an active role in that, and sometimes I forget that.

I'd been in a weird shitty funk this week. I've been stressed about the stability of my income / job and have been looking for something else. But, the economy is sketchy, the job market is quiet and overall jobs are just shit. Unless you're an engineer or in tech or finance finding a stable job is just the dumps.

I ended up feeling pretty shitty Thursday night, I was wishing I was dead, and just feeling useless. I often feel like I can't take care of myself, and can not depend on myself in a real way. I'm a bad depressive episode away from homelessness, at all times. That's my main fear.

I ended up e-mailing with a friend, who also has been struggling (though with different things) and this is part of that exchange:

Hey bud,
I wanted to reach out and kind of quasi-apologise. I've been in a weird funk for a few weeks now, and it's been getting worse. 

I feel like you've been going through a lot too, and I feel like I always put my foot in my mouth and say dumb things. 

I'm also super sensitive right now, and thus paranoid and anxious.  

Sometimes I'm just so self-conscious about it all that it's difficult to understand what other people see in me. I'm the one who lives in my head, so I envy those who get an edited version of everything that goes on in there.
I hope if ever there is something, you'd mention it to me. 

-- 

Aw buddy! I know how that feels - I have the same kind of self conscious thing with anxiety where I always feel like I said the wrong thing or whatever.  

Anyways - everything is fine! With us I mean. My personal life is another matter. No worries! I love ya and you are a great friend!  

-- 

lol - "my personal life is another matter" is how I feel right now. 

This morning a friend linked to a bunch of old friends of mine on Facebook and it brought up a ton of garbage emotions. Mainly shame and guilt and just self-loathing. I'm trying to be positive but I have this feeling like I want to cry so badly, like a good sob, but it's all caught in my arteries. Is that a crazy feeling?  

Like - this is a weird fucking thing to say, but I was always kind of jealous of L's depression/anxiety cause she can cry. From the outside, it looks cathartic. For me, it all internalized into these weird sensations, but there's no release. I wish I could cry it out, you know? 

You're so great I'm sorry you're going through a hard time. 

--

I mean, it's nothing magical. But it is kind, and supportive, and understanding. And yah, it isn't perfect, I re-read what I wrote and to me I hear a frantic undertone, which is difficult.

Thursday I was bugging out. 

I was just out of it - I felt like I checked out. I felt like I needed to be in a padded room. I'd been having a few days of brain zapping - something that apparently happens when you forget to take your meds. Though, I have been taking my meds. I was feeling dissociative and "floaty" and having trouble focusing or paying attention. If I turned around too quickly I felt wobbly/not-solid and kind of like I might walk into a doorframe or wall as I walked past them. I kept "hearing" brain zaps in my inner ear/head and it was just not pleasant. It's very difficult to explain. 

I'm feeling better, I've been sleeping and today I'm at home catching up and stuff, and I have to do my 24-hour urines test to track my cortisol levels. 

I wanted to write about it on Thursday and Friday, but I was having a  lot of trouble concentrating and had to keep the focus I had to get through the work day. 

Our radical survival.

Available for purchase at this Etsy store. 

She Was a Hot Mess: Friend "break-ups," Worry and Regret

The folks over at The Witching Hour podcast featured some of my writing on an upcoming episode (#15) on friendship. Thank you Andy and Kathleen!
-


Adult friendships are odd. You could meet any other person and just like them and spend time with them. We have cars now. We can set our own schedule. We can make our own dates. No more friendships based on your neighbourhood or their geographical proximity to you. No more forced-play-dates. We can now freely dislike people and opt-out of spending time with them. We can now say, “I like you,” to a person and then go grab a coffee.

After university I was navigating panic attacks on top of my chronic depression, so naturally I was loads of fun to be around. I figured the best way to avoid my life was to go back to school. Audrey and I met in technical college. We were both studying graphic design. She lives with a learning disability, so she signed up for a service where a classmate acts like a sort of official nag, reminding you of homework and critical deadlines. I was that nag. We gradually spent more time together, bonding over the fact that we weren't born in the 90’s like most of our classmates.

As I got to know her, I learned she was from Nova Scotia and that she was new to Montreal. One afternoon after class I visited the condo she shared with her boyfriend. The condo was perched at the top of a large, red-bricked building by a large public market. I was instantly impressed by the place. It was the nicest place I’d seen in the city for someone my age. There were no milk-crates anywhere. The building had underground parking and an elevator. She had a guest room!

Over the span of the next two years we became increasingly close. Her boyfriend was rich. He had summer homes and a winter ski retreat in the mountains. We gladly trekked all over the province to babysit his families' dogs while they were off, being rich internationally. Dog sitting in fancy locations was a nice time, but I always found it odd her boyfriend never joined us.

Having enjoyed this mystery boyfriend’s many vacation homes, I was glad to finally get the chance to meet him. Audrey and I walked into a small café near her condo. It was small and familiar, seemingly filled with regulars. We were the only women, and I read the space as being a popular hangout amongst gay men. I made my way to the counter and was met by a smiling barista. He was slender and blonde, well-coiffed and at ease, flicking a towel over his shoulder as he pushed a coffee over to Audrey. We all exchanged pleasantries until I received my order, at which point he pointed out how happy he was to finally meet me.

As Audrey and I walked through the city I skirted around the assumed gayness of her boyfriend. I made it clear that relationships take all forms. Sexuality is a spectrum, as is gender. People want and need different things. Monogamy isn't for everyone. When I finally broached the subject of her partner, she confirmed he was gay and that his family disapproved so she felt he asked her to move in as a beard. She casually talked about how she slept with whoever she wanted, and how she was seeing some of his married friends.

I felt for both of them, he for needing to lie to his family, she for being away from hers, desperate for a tribe of her own. I was uncomfortable with all the lying though. Seeing married guys, knowing their wives, not caring about outcome or after-math. She was so nonchalant about all of it.

A few weeks later we went for drinks. Audrey got very drunk very fast and left with a stranger. On Monday she asked what happened, casually referring to her propensity towards getting blackout drunk. I filled her in the best I could, and worriedly asked her if this happened a lot. She laughed it off and told me not to worry. I did anyway.

We were at a friend’s bachelorette party at an equal-parts cheesy and disheartening strip-club, when things shifted. Things were already awkward and uncomfortable due to the setting. I was sober and wished I wasn't. It was all so distressing to me. The hairless man-boys and their weird “sexy” dancing. The really aggressive women, pawing at them and hooting loudly. It was funny until it wasn't, and it quickly wasn't. Audrey spent more and more time with the show MC.

She stumbled over to our table, slurring confidently, “That MC totally wants to fuck me. I'm totally going to get him to cheat on his wife.” She stomped off assuredly and everyone shuffled uncomfortably, especially the bachelorette, no doubt relating to the mentioned wife more so than to Audrey.

This became a pattern. Every school-related social event came with the eventuality of Audrey’s heavy drinking. It wasn't uncommon for bartenders and doormen to ask us to rein her in. One night a classmate I was close with told me he didn't like being alone with her when she was drinking because she’d often proposition him, even if his girlfriend was around. It slowly became a known-thing: Audrey doesn't have boundaries when she drinks.

She eventually left the red-brick condo with good lighting, and I helped her find a new place and get situated. I was hoping that getting out of a situation where lying was often implicit, she’d feel better, and experience less drama. The following few months involved a lot of new suitors. She was always excited to introduce them, and I was always charming and overly friendly, knowing I’d never see them again. I didn't see the point in remembering their names. I was constantly worried and dreading her phone calls. She soon got pregnant and it was unclear who the father was. Her drinking started and ended that problem.

I have friends who live lives where casual sex is part of the way they live. But with Audrey, it was different. It’s as if with every new person she was filled with hope and got really excited about him, even if she felt the same way about someone else only days before, she fully committed to this. She was naive in a heartbreaking way. I just didn't know how to help her, and I didn't know how to be friends with her either, since all I wanted to do was help her.

It was at a friend’s wedding where her drinking lead to an early night in for her, and an enjoyable night for me. I reflected on that afterwards. Friends pointed out how much fun it was that she had clocked-out for the night. She wasn't my drunken baby.

I began resenting her. She was kind and very sweet, but she was so comfortable lying and putting herself in harm's way. I was perpetually worried for her in ways she would never worry about herself. I think the worst part was that whenever I talked to her about harm-reduction, her first reaction was always to apologize. I tried re-framing the discussion, I did not want to shame her, that was never my goal, but it always seemed to be the outcome.

One day I received a call from Audrey while driving. I let it go to voice-mail. Safety first. It was an easy going message about this one dirt bag and then there was this other dirt bag. I rolled my eyes. I didn't return her call. I texted her and told her I needed some space. That summer, I pulled away from Audrey. Shortly afterwards she moved back to Nova Scotia.

It took time to realize she wasn't going through a singular “hard time.” It seemed to follow her. I still feel shitty about it, because life can be brutal and we do what we have to do to get through it - I get that. I never felt I could really talk to her about any of it, I knew she’d just apologize, and that wasn't my intent.

I don’t like the way things ended between she and I. I guess I also don’t like that it had to end at all. I don’t regret the split - but I regret the indirect route it took. Sending a text message was lame. We eventually talked, but the conversation was short. She would immediately apologize, and I was steadfast that she didn't have anything to apologize to me for, that it just wasn't working for me.

I don’t really see what I could have said that would have suitably answered any question she might have had whilst making it clear she’s free to her life and the way she wants to live it. It just became very hard to watch. I couldn't shake it off, I was always worried. Within nine months of leaving Montreal she bought a motorcycle, got engaged and became pregnant. I didn't question what order any of that happened in and I try not to think about it. I didn't want to judge her or her choices, but ultimately I did. I couldn't live so close to someone so visibly struggling and not intervene. I wasn't able to “let go and let live.” Eventually it became about my inability to care for her without compromising caring for myself. I know I did what I had to do. I was unable to be around her anymore. The decision made itself. But why do I feel so shitty about it?

Gaycation: Japan.

Really impressed by he first episode of Gaycation on the new Viceland.

Of course there's the "classic" look and production of Vice, but the production on the show is top-notch. I just genuinely feel Ellen Page's intent while watching, and it's just nice to see her really living her life openly now. She seems to have a really beautifully sweet friendship with Ian, and I think the show is important and just really well done.

You can watch the whole episode above.

Highly recommended.

Can we just "golden-girls-it" now?

This weekend was a good one.

I took Friday off to head over to a friend's office. She has her own design studio and has a corner dedicated to photography. She has experience as a photographer, and she gave a couple of hours to a friend and I to try and get some decent head-shots for Linkedin and for website use.

She actually rents her office space above a restaurant owned and operated by a former classmate of ours, so we all ended up having lunch, and people started calling people and we ended up having dinner and drink at her loft later on.

It was just nice seeing everyone, and being unexpectedly social.

Saturday I had a dinner party planned for three good friends of mine. Two of which had never met. So it was just a really nice time, filled with chat and giggles and a new 2 month old baby who cooed a lot.

It really reinvigorated me. It can be so nice, being surrounded by friends. It can take a lot of energy out of me, but it was nice.

There were high points and low points during both events, since it seems like everyone is doing really well, and getting their shit together, and I'm not. I'm still struggling. I find that very difficult. Comparison makes a terribly view of the world, I know, but I couldn't help but feel like the limping party.

I know that the way I feel about my body is something that affects me negatively daily, but I'm not sure how to move forward. I want to be pro-active, but I have so little energy.

Why is having a body so difficult for me?

A conversation between friends.

Indeed...

A reminder.

People who live with __________.

From the website:

People Who is a platform for people who live with an illness in some way. We are an initiative developed in collaboration with patients’ associations, medical and scientific societies, nurses and care workers and supported by companies and institutions. We aim to build a society that is able to improve life with illness.

They even have sites by region/language, including Spain (Spanish), Germany (German), Italy (Italian), France (French) and their main site, the UK site (English).

I signed up for an account, I'll check it out.

Suicide, once-removed.

One of my best friends is upside-down because an old friend of hers committed suicide. She hasn't been close to him lately, but he was a best friend to her for years in high school. That happens. Life leads us around and we don’t stay friends with everyone, but that doesn't mean we don’t care for them. I know that I still carry people in my memories, especially through the nostalgia of youth. I can’t help look back and a lot of the silly things we did and still think of everyone fondly. We had a lot of fun, being dumb teenagers.

It's always tremendously sad when someone sees suicide as the only real option to ending their pain, but I guess lately it’s also something I understand, so my shock is dulled. Maybe part of the reason she and I are so saddened by it is because we understand so well. We understand what it is to want to end it all, and this is someone whose name we know, and who took that desire and realized it. It's so close to us.

It's also infuriating because this person was apparently the only thing keeping a non-profit community drop-in centre for children open. A lot of my friends in the social sector / non-profits work insanely hard and give everything they have, to be met with little to no support by the organizations and systems that employ them. I've seen too many people burn out. I see breakdowns and anxiety because these people are lovely and caring and want to help people, and they carry that burden to a point where it’s detrimental to their health.

People who work with/around mental health, sexual health, sex work, racial discrimination, outreach, youth, violence, poverty and in social support networks of all kinds are being taken for granted, and are risking their own health and wellness daily because it’s in their nature to care, and to support. This makes me really sad, and this makes me really angry.

When my friend worked with youth in the criminal justice system (technically youth corrections I guess, she worked in “youth and family centres”) she would tell me stories that made me sick to my stomach. Horror stories. How is it that she faced this daily, as a full-time job and wasn't mandated to go to counselling or therapy as part of her work process? Same thing with all sorts of high-risk, difficult jobs where you face abuse, violence and traumatic realities. How is it not part of the god-damn culture?

It makes no sense to me. This friend ended up on burn-out because of the trauma of having a kid she was working with commit suicide while she was working. She was then hassled by insurance company psychologists and had to constantly defend her right to be fucking traumatized.

I didn't know Jean-Pierre personally, my condolences to all who knew him.

My condolences to all of us, who suffer when good people die because our systems are broken.