You are probably reading this because you came to SG to relax and view some pretty girls having fun. This won't be fun... It will be real, though. I am nothing if not authentic.
For the last year, following my dad's horrifying accident and subsequent death, I've been dealing with a severe turn in my ongoing battle with depression, anxiety, and obsession. I have been in and out of therapy for years, I have experimented with handfuls of different pharmaceuticals as well as recreational substances, and I have even "graduated" therapy. I've been sick, broken, and healed over and over. The truth is I will probably be struggling with the demons in my head until the day I die.
I've struggled with my self worth from a very young age. I never felt good enough even when I was good at a thing. I learned to play an instrument well at age 6, I became a martial arts instructor at 16, I turned my house into an animal shelter and I even started my own business at 18. None of that felt like enough. The only thing that's been continuous in this journey and the only thing I can hold true as ME, is my desire to be better. Sure, I've given up a million times. I've hidden in my bed from the world, avoided social media, stopped working, the whole thing... but I keep getting back up. I WANT to be better than the lies in my head.
It wasn't until two days ago that I actually started dealing with my dad's accident that happened almost exactly one year ago. My dad suffered a head injury in his past and became epileptic as a result. He was a blue collar working man with skills in demolition, mechanics, and construction of large cranes. When he started work at a recycling facility last year he didn't tell anyone about his medical history because it probably would have cost him his job. Instead he had a seizure while cutting iron with a blow torch. By the time anyone knew, he was engulfed in flames. He suffered 3rd degree burns on 80% of his body and burned a hole through his chest, burning his lungs and heart directly. His chance of survival was incredibly low and even if he did survive he would never be self sufficient again. As one of his only two daughters, knowing the man he was, I had to decide to let him die.
Naturally you can assume this threw me into a deep spiral of mental illness. My father and I had been mostly estranged since my mother and I moved from WI to AZ. Not for lack of trying, but because my disease began to take a stronger hold as I reached puberty. I slowly stopped contacting him or taking his calls because I was afraid he would disapprove of my life choices just as I was becoming comfortable with who I was. I found out during my pilgrimage home to say goodbye and help with the memorial, that he knew all about my nude modeling business and had no problem with it. He was proud of me... The entire thing was a construct of my fear. He was my best friend and I let my fear keep us from really knowing each other. I can never change that.
Now all I can do, to honor that relationship we had when I was young, is to fight those fears with all my might. I will keep getting back up, for my animals, for my wife, for my family, and most of all for ME. I am writing all this because I want to help anyone who might be struggling (and myself) understand that they can't let the fear win. Take your time and come back gently, but GET. BACK. UP.
