957 total views, 3 views today
I walked out of the front door for the last time without a second glance. It was comforting in a surreal kind of way, it felt like I was high on drugs. It’s a rare feeling to have no feeling, no thoughts, no nothing. My brain wasn’t being plagued by stress, I had been cleansed of all negativity, yet ironically, I was about to do the most negative thing ever.
Everyone says you don’t really start living until you know it’s all coming to an end. And that morning I really felt alive. It didn’t feel like I was being battered by a hammer constantly on my head, or that I had swallowed a poison that was burning my organs, melting them into liquid. That mysterious thing they called anxiety had vanished and I could actually move my body and get out of bed for the first time, in a long time. I was content in a room pungent of emptiness.
It had been a while since I felt this good. I think the last time I felt like this was in my early 20s with no commitments, no life experience. What did I have to worry about then? My life was taken up by vanity. It was all about the weekend, looking good, feeling good, getting laid. Money automatically made its way into the depths of my pockets, then somehow escaped through the palms of my hand without a blink of an eye, and I didn’t give a shit. I stopped caring.
That’s the sign I chose to ignore, that scientific process of nature. You don’t get to decide if it’s dark, or light, warm or cold. These are the things we do not control; they are already working away naturally as we gravitate towards a subnormal departure. If you were to read a book about it, the most clique answer would be ‘mental illness’. There I said it.
Depression, isolation, intoxication, indulgence, drugs, alcohol, death, trauma, abuse. It a perfect recipe for melancholy, suicide’s star players in the game of life.
I closed the door for the last time. I had devised my own end, written my last chapter. I wasn’t angry, or bitter at nature’s request; I accepted it willingly. If it’s a natural process then I wasn’t going challenge it – it was mutual on both sides.
It was 3am In the morning, I didn’t care about the time because now it didn’t matter, it had no relevance to my existence, my schedule was now ticking away at my own pace, I was the big and small hand, minutes didn’t make hours and hours didn’t make up my day. I was totally free from a methodical time zone. It was dark and cold, I liked it, to me that was the light, that was my peace, my tranquillity. There was no one about, but what did it matter? The streets were always empty to me, even a busy Saturday on the high street was derelict, that’s what happens when you become invisible. All my communication skills had crumbled away into isolation. Everything had become laborious, there was no more need to make a conscious effort about anything. That was my freedom, my escapism. Every time I did something wrong as a child I was always asked: ‘What were you thinking?’ now I know the answer. I wasn’t thinking anything, that’s why I did it.
When you let go of it all you float along, oblivious to the complexities. There is no obstacle, no intention, and no overall objective, these are conscious challenges that gravity uses to hold you down, these are the pressures of society, the immoral burdens of civilisation. But when you empty in all out into something, anything, that’s when it really makes sense. If it doesn’t make sense, what does it matter? there is no other, only that, in which you have already decided. A decision is a thought provoking set back, a neurological tyrant. You put one foot in front of the other and you walk. I once wrote a letter to God and posted it to heaven. I don’t think it ever reached its destination. I wanted to ask a few question before I let go, things that I already knew the answer to but wanted clarification.
‘Dear God,’ I said. ‘What gives you the right to immunise yourself?’
It was very short and brief, at the time I thought it was relevant to ask a reasonable, thought provoking question. What did give Him the right? How comes He gets to choose how and when? I wanted to rebel with defiance. I wanted to show Him that I too could make a bold decision. He created a beautiful existence, there’s no denying that. I have visited the Lake District; I have seen His masterpiece. I have even indulged in nature’s arms, taken liberties of her gifts. Love being the greatest one of all, I once loved myself, that was the worst kind of love. I loved a woman once, that was the most painful, and I loved my family, that had to be the most comforting. But I have never loved Him personally, and I never will.
I took ownership of my problems, and instead of hating them, I respected them. It wasn’t going to go away so I embraced it, and loved it. If I couldn’t fight it, then I thought I might as well work with it. I went to drama school, I started painting, writing; I did whatever I could to focus my energy on living my life, not the life of my destruction.
I’m now 39-years-old, I’m married with a beautiful wife, and two amazing children. I still struggle with depression and addiction, but now I take control of my problems, and I own them. That’s the key to personal success – own it.
Chris Wild is active within the care sector working as a youth ambassador, keynote speaker and a regular contributor on radio, TV and media forums.
Some of our contents and links are sponsored. Psychreg is not responsible for the contents of external websites. Psychreg is mainly for information purposes only. Never disregard professional psychological or medical advice, nor delay in seeking professional advice or treatment because of something you have read on this website. We run a directory of mental health service providers.
We published differing views. The views and opinions expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of Psychreg and its correspondents. Any content provided by our authors are of their opinion and are not intended to malign any individual or organisation. You’re welcome to write for us.
Read our full disclaimer.