Thread by @kristoph_errr, ~Why Mental Health Awareness Matters To Me~I suffer - every day

~Why Mental Health Awareness Matters To Me~

I suffer - every day - from the effects of PTSD, toxic masculinity, depression, and surviving suicide.

I hope that by sharing a bit of my story, it can help light a path for others to find the help they need (and deserve).

When I was 15, I was raped by three boys at my high school.

I was brand new, didn't know anyone. They pinned me down in a locker room and did unspeakable things to me. A hazing that went way too far. It messed me up.

I never saw who they were. And I never said a word to anyone.

I went from being an honours student to barely graduating. Two weeks later, barely 18, my parents told me to leave home. They'd had enough of my dark, confrontational attitude. They never knew, and I never told them.

I had no job, no life skills.

Just these horrific nightmares.

I spent the next 2 years scraping by in a shitty apartment in the shittiest part of the city. Weed and beer came before bills and food. I didn't know what I was doing.

So inevitably, one day I came home and I was evicted.

I was 20. Locked out with just my jacket and the clothes I had on. No car, no cell phone, no money.

So I just started walking, and slept in a bank vestibule that night. And continued to do so for the next couple months. I stole food and scavenged to survive.

Crossing a bridge one evening, I decided that I'd had enough. The shame was unbearable. It happened quick. I just jumped. Didn't really think twice about it.

A kayaker saw it all happen. I was conscious, (the bridge wasn't that high), and I hung on as they pulled me to shore.

I remember being angry that I couldn't even get suicide right. I felt so ashamed. I missed my friends. I didn't know if they had been worried about me this whole time or if they had just moved on. I called one from a payphone, and his parents agreed to let me stay with them.

I still struggled for the next few years. Worked random jobs, quit or got fired from them. Smoked weed, partied, and then repeated.

I noticed that the nightmares I had would put me down for days at a time. I'd get ultra-depressed, miss work, get fired, and then spiral.

The pattern of self-sabotage was becoming a theme. When I'd finally "catch a break", it felt like one of the dream episodes would be right on its heels to rip it away. Relationships were the same way. I attracted the most wonderful people, but I couldn't stay consistent enough.

I eventually made amends with my parents. Started apprenticing and got my trade ticket. Still had the dreams, still had this awful secret, but I seemed to be managing "okay".

Then, like clockwork, the cycle would start again. Depression. Lose job. Lose girlfriend. Lose hope.

I discovered that stress played a big role in my nightmares. The more stressed I was in life, the more frequent the dreams. Which would stress me out. Which caused me to shut down or act out, sabotaging my life. Which was stressful. And on and on and fucking on it went.

I finally told a partner of mine why I was the way I was. Outgoing, charming, vibrant and then BAM - completely devoid of emotion for days on end. I told her about the rape. She was the first one I ever told.

It didn't go well, unfortunately.

She was angry that I didn't tell her before we started getting serious, that she didn't want to be with someone who was "broken". We went to therapy together, and my therapist suggested in private that she may be manipulating and using my trauma against me. So I ended things.

But I kept going to therapy. Six years ago, I finally told my family and a few close friends my truth. Who I was, what I'd been through, and it was an ugly-crying, emotionally-exhausting thing each time.

But also a huge relief.

As painful as it was, I finally had some relief.

Another emotion I often feel is self-loathing.

I hate that these things are a part of my story. I didn't ask to be this way. I didn't ask for these things to have happened to me. I hate that they affect my life and the people in it that I care about. It absolutely wrecks me.

I care more about others than I do myself. Making people happy, helping people feel loved and accepted, I love that. In a way it fills the void where I don't always feel worthy of my own happiness. I give myself to others because it brings me joy, but there's a sacrifice there.

This behavior does two things. It attracts the most wonderful, caring, like-minded people into my life, who go out of their way to lift me up as well.

But it also attracts people who drain me and take from me, because they know a giving person won't ask for anything in return.

I have a really hard time asking for help. I want to BE the help. I'm a man, and that's always been our role.

Men like me, who grew up primed to be emotionless, who were told that women loved the strong, silent type, a lot of us have this little kettle inside, just boiling away.

Every one of us has a story. And no matter what events helped shape it, no matter how high or low our peaks and valleys have been, the emotions we feel are all the same.

We have all felt shame, anger, love, sadness, elation, and pain.

We all suffer in our own way.

I advocate for mental health awareness because it drives me to keep trying to heal myself. The fact that I can share what I've learned so far and help others is a blessing, and it brings me a lot of joy.

But make no mistake, this is a very personal journey I'm on.

I've lost count how many times I've wanted to give up. Including, unfortunately, very recently.

Depression is a poison. It does not go away on its own.

But there are resources and people who know how to help you get some of it out.

We must be brave enough to use them.

I just want to help those that are suffering, like me, to find their voice. I want our support networks to understand the best ways that they can be supportive. I want the professional community to be accessible, affordable, approachable and there for us when we need them.

But most of all, I just want us to be kind and compassionate to one another. Supportive of one another. Open-minded. Willing to hear each other's stories. To really listen.

We're probably not all that different, when you get down to the heart of it all.

- K.

I appreciate all of the kind words and support. I am imperfect, and harbour a lot guilt. It eats at me every day. I do not seek sympathy or accolades, they're hard for me to accept. I just hope that we all find it within ourselves to accept who we are and what made us.

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