On Depression, Drinking, and Suicide

Hi, my name's Keith. I have severe depression and anxiety. I'm an alcoholic. I tried to kill myself a few weeks ago.

There. Just like ripping off a band-aid. Hell of a return to the Weekly, huh? Hell of a way to tell your friends something like this...

Well, this is what I got, and this is what I'm going with.

I'm just kind of spit-balling here... my hands are a little shakey, so forgive me if I ramble, or get a little tough to read. I'm not really sure where to start, other than how I feel... I feel like shit. I've felt like shit for a long time. I worry about everything. There are constantly a pack of butterflies in my stomach, and I'm grinding my teeth down as we speak. When I'm not worrying I'm depressed. I cry for no reason. I think about off-switches... you can guess what that means. I can joke, and be funny, and have fun, but it's fleeting. To help with this, I get drunk. Not just a little drunk... a lot drunk. It makes me happy, until it stops making me happy. Then I wake up depressed, and guilty and we start the whole thing over again.

Now everybody knows what that's like. It may sound like I'm simplifying, but when you boil it down, it's a pretty simple thing. I could try to make it a little more complicated and deep, but then I'd just focus on trivial details, and I'd get bogged down.

Now we can move on to the positives. I'm in recovery. I'm on meds. I haven't had a drink since Sept. 23rd. Just recently I got some news that put me back down a little, but I'm doing what I can to get back up. Maybe that's why I'm writing this. Who's to say?

I'm not thrilled about total strangers being able to read this, but that's life. I can't complain about feeling isolated when I've got a whole series of tubes out there to reach through. So, here you go. I love you all. Even the people I don't. I'm gonna get better, and I'm gonna stick around.

Hugs and kisses,

Keith