Certain days remain with you. Today is one of those days. I’m a regular Prodigy fan, not a regular frequenter of their gigs, but I’ve danced to their tunes and turned the radio up to ear bleed levels, when needed. I’m moved by the news of Keiths passing.
My wife and I sat and talked about this blog recently, and she commended me for opening up my soul to people, who have five minutes to waste. I’ve never looked at this blog as a chore, it’s not difficult to write and most of all, it’s cathartic. This is my counselling. I’m letting go of the past and unleashing painful episodes, to an invisible audience.
Not everyone is able to do so.
Suicide rates in men are ridiculously high. 4,383 men took their own life, in the UK, in 2017. They also make up three quarters of all people in the UK that found suicide as their last resort.
The main character in Comedic Depression is made up of bits of humans, I’ve met along this merry dance. Mostly though, it’s me. Unable to talk aloud, to openly discuss how I feel, to allow people to know the real me and what’s going on behind the facade. It took many difficult years for me to open up, unsure of myself, frightened about being ridiculed, apprehensive about being weak.
For me personally, I now admire those men who can open up. I look up to those who have the courage to discuss how they’re feeling, what bothers them and what fears they have. I want my son to know that he can talk to me and tell me anything. Absolutely anything. If I manage that, I’ve succeeded.
Today really impacted me. I’m truly sorry that a man most people had heard of, prematurely ended his life. Quite simply, no one will know why.
I wrote Comedic because if one person read it and decided to talk, to seek help, to fight on for another day, it was worth it. I have sunk thousands of my own money to get this published, I believe in it that much. I’ve seen feedback about me jumping on a mental health bandwagon and trying to make money from it. I’m not being paid for this work. Unless, 35,000 copies of it were sold in the first week and Hollywood came knocking for an 80 page novella about a man on the edge, ending his life and being faced with his demons in purgatory.
If anyone reading this wants to talk, I will listen. If any of my friends need an ear, I have one to lend. I’m not qualified in anything, I don’t have answers, and despite being male, I can (and will) listen if anyone wants me to.
My personal email is firstname.lastname@example.org