I remember crying over you,
and I don’t mean like a couple of tears and I’m blue.
I’m talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon,
but I’m a better man for having gone through it.
Yes, I’m a better man for having gone through.
Ever since I learned how to curse.
I’ve been using those sorry old words.
But I’m talking to these children and I’m keeping it clean.
I don’t need those words to say what I mean.
No, I don’t need those words to say what I mean
Tear down the house that I grew up in.
I’ll never be the same again.
Take everything that I used to own,
and burn it in a pile
About two weeks ago, the Anxiety and Depression Associate of America (ADAA) featured three blog posts (you can read them at the links posted above) that I wrote explaining my side of the story after losing him. I spoke with the excecutive director of the ADAA shortly after Andy passed away because we raised money for their organization in lieu of flowers and the director reached out to me and thanked me for the contributions towards their programs. We (my parents and I) decided on working with the ADAA because we truly feel the research/treatment for clinical depression is just not where it needs to be. The ADAA focuses on research, outreach, treatment, and raising awareness – so we thought it was a perfect fit for what we were wanting to raise money towards.
Once I spoke with the director and told her I wanted to be involved and to help in some way, when I was ready, we decided that I would be a guest blogger for their community. Five months went by and I finally decided to send in my three writings to be shared with the internet world.
It was difficult to write.
It was difficult to submit.
It was difficult to know everyone was reading my thoughts.
It was difficult to hear the feedback (although positive).
But the most difficult part for me was knowing I was not 100% authentic. I really skimmed the edges of how painful this has all been in fear of upsetting and worrying my friends and family. I skipped the parts that would hurt too much for others to read, which defeated the whole purpose of sharing my story.
I know my words through those three blog posts will help others, but I just wish I would have been more transparent about how absolutely devastating this has all been. Yes, I shared some thoughts and details but that barely even scraped the surface. I promised myself that through these blogs I would be 100% real and honest, because people need to know. People need to know what it does when you choose this option. If I can be some sort of voice of reason for someone else, then I’ll take the risks and vulnerability that goes along with writing down your most gut wrenching struggles and thoughts.
The worst has happened, it’s all about struggling back up the mountain to “normality” and happiness at this point.
Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive of me and for everyone who continues to check up on my parents. It means the world to me to know they are so well loved and cared for by their friends and neighbors.
Buckle up, ya’ll. Cause shit’s about to get real.