Tag: suicide

Undiscovered Trauma Discovered

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Hi, everybody.

Well, it’s not every day I come on here with an actual topic to discuss. Usually it’s just babble with some rambling and some hootin’ and hollerin’.

Ok, sorry, I’ll get to it.

Tonight an old friend is in town. An old ex, although that was short-lived and not part of the picture any longer. This fiend has been a friend for quite some time, tested our friendship quite a few times, but remained a solid friend in my life and someone I’m honored and grateful to call a friend.

But there’s a catch. A couple years back, my friend hanged themselves in my house. I might have wrote about it – I can’t remember if I had this blog or not, and everyone knows I don’t read these things after I hit publish. Anyway, that fiend is in town for a couple of weeks seeing family, and they need a place to stay. Tonight, they stay at my new house. Well, new to them.

I’ve been telling people since the incident that I don’t believe it really impacted me, but this morning I woke up with an irrational fear. A fear of reliving the moment. Finding the friend after my late dog led me to them on the floor, belt broken, me screaming, me yelling at the 911 dispatcher, me crying, me pumping the chest, me yelling more, me lifting the head, me yelling even more at the 911 dispatcher, me crying, me pumping, and at last – my friend spit up and started to breathe again.

I know it’s irrational. I already mentioned that. This friend has bettered their life in 100 different ways since this incident, but I can’t help but think about it a bit.

One thing that’s always been hard for me to swallow is the thought that this friend thinks they owe me. They don’t I understand why they do think that, but really the best thing they can do is continue to better themselves and be the person they want to be. And they’re doing just that. So no, this friend owes me nothing – but they believe they do. How do I confront that without sounding like a dick? Do I just keep letting it be said?

You saved my life!

– Friend

Anyone would, right? You see one of your best friends lying there, you do anything you can to bring them back. Anything.

Do I feel guilt for not being around in the house when they did this? Fear they’ll do it again? Fear and guilt? Anxiety about it all? Who knows. However, I need to take notes from my own writing and remember to focus on the positives out of this. This friend is still alive. They are here today and I will get to see them in the flesh for the first time in a couple of years. They have worked on their mental health. They are true to who they are.

See, writing does help. It really does. I am still scared, but I do feel a hell of a lot better. Wish me luck tonight, eh? Maybe I’ll update you by the end of the week, but I’m pretty spotty nowadays with writing. Either way, assume I’m good, alright?

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Two Posts, One Day

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Hi, everyone (again)!

I don’t know why I’m back. I just finished a blog for the company I work for, so maybe that was such boring writing that I had to come back here to finish the night off the right way. Let’s begin: (insert cuss word).

Kidding. Well, mostly. I am happy to be typing away on this website again, that’s for sure. It feels like life’s slowed down a bit. Judging by my dogs, we’re all getting much more comfortable with our surroundings. The young pup is to the right of me, frantically fighting to stay awake. He won’t last long. The older pup? Well, she’s on her perch, protecting this house. I love em’ both.

What else is going on? Let’s check in with you. Anything super fun happen recently? Any firsts? Any subtle changes to your life ending with big differences? Even small differences? Are you giving yourself enough fuckin’ credit yet? I hope so. I really do.

I started this blog through a challenge my buddy gave me. I didn’t think I’d last this long writing on it, honestly. I made sure to try to pick a catchy name so I could stick with it longer, but really it’s turned into something real for me. It’s brought back my love for writing. Yeah, this isn’t the best writing, I know, I know, but fuck it. It’s writing. I like it. Hopefully you like it. If you don’t like it, well, you’re lying. You’re already this far into the blog. If you didn’t like it, you would’ve clicked “back” already or just put your screen down. But you didn’t. You’re still here with me. I’m still here with you.

This blog started as a depression, anxiety, overall mental health outlet for me. It still is. I’m still fighting each and every day. I’m still doubting myself in portions of my day, but not nearly as often as when I first started this thing.

I’m getting better. A few months ago I thought I was going to kill myself. I didn’t. I’m still here. It’s because of you that I’m still here. The reader. The friend who pushed me here. The Pops who reads this shit (and probably winces at every cuss word). It’s you lot that keep me going.

People say happiness comes from within, through loving yourself, etc.. What should be emphasized there? “People say”. It doesn’t mean it applies to you. I don’t think it truly applies to me, honestly. My happiness comes from spending my time for others. It doesn’t come from within. I need you people. I’m not scared to say it. I love you fucking people, even the irritating ones.

Keep being you. Please.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Therapy Through Punching

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Yesterday most of you (the followers, thank you) read I was in a dark place. Don’t let that past-tense fool you, I’m still there. What’s most important is that I’m still here. Living, breathing, trying to calm down.

Yet what helps me is my passion. My passion for boxing, which I wholeheartedly attribute my breakaway from addiction to. Now that I’m not fighting anymore, I coach, & I coach for free.

20 of the 24 hours of yesterday sucked ass. Yet, the four hours I spent volunteering my time to help build strength, stamina, & most importantly, self confidence, helped me more than it helped the boxers I was training.

I guess Anthony De Mello was right when he said every act, even a charitable one, is selfish. Look what I just said. It helped me. That’s not a bad thing necessarily if your perspective shines in a positive light. If the training didn’t help me, I wouldn’t be there to do it. Those individuals coming to learn wouldn’t have me as their coach. They wouldn’t get to see me perform in my now-natural environment. They wouldn’t be able to build their confidence like I did ten years back with boxing.

I’m here now outside of myself. I’m here for others. I haven’t given up on myself, but I’ve tried almost everything under the sun to break through my depressive disorder. It always comes back, sometimes (most of the time) more fierce than the last time. Yesterday I lashed out on my mother, lashed out on my father, & went to bed at 4 AM. I’m not OK, but I’m doing my damn best.

As my coach always said: Chin down, eyes up. (Keeps ya from getting knocked out.)

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Back To It

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

I’ve failed miserably over the past few days. I recently spoke with my psych & we both felt comfortable moving me to solely anxiety meds, no more anti-depressants.

I don’t know if that was a good choice. I can’t tell if it’s me, if it’s the drugs, or if it’s my current environment, but I’ve never thought so much about ending things than I have over the past few days. It sucks to admit, but hey, this is why I write. So you know. So I know. So we all can hold each other accountable.

I’m lost right now. I still think about my ex far too much, I’m lonely as fucking hell, & I don’t know if I’ll ever find happiness within myself for a substantial period of time. I’m running out of options. I’m running out of hope. I feel like I’m running out of time.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.

Why Does Sad Music Feel So Good?

~ Henry Butterfly ~ Leave a comment

Whenever I’m in the dumps, I tend to float towards a very depressing music playlist. Songs strictly about depression, breakups, anxiety, & suicide. And for some reason it helps.

I think I know the reason: They’re going through the shit, too. When I’m down, I don’t want fucking Bruno Mars to sing me… hold on, let me go look up a song. Yeah, I don’t want to hear Bruno sing me 24K Magic, whatever the hell that is. It just doesn’t resonate with me. Hell, even in a good mood, still doesn’t. OK, enough about Bruno. This isn’t about him. This is about you & me.

I’m curious, do you also find depressing music comforting in times of doubt, shame, and defeat? The song Jocelyn Flores by XXXTenacion is currently playing as I write this. Why? Well, I’ve had a very similar experience to the lyrics in the song (I’m sure I’ll write about it one day). Also, artists who sing about real shit get my respect. I don’t think they care if they have my respect or not, but hey, any artists out there, remember your main audience: Depressed, creative people. We need you as much as you need us.

This is another one of those days where I really don’t have much to say, but again, I just enjoy writing to you lot. Today’s actually been quite amazing. My Pops came over for the day, I had a fantastic day at work, & I was pushed through to the final interview stage at a company I’d like to work at. Again, almost a 10/10 day, but I wish I could eat a bit more. Why can’t I just stay positive?! I was doing so well there!

OK, back to music. I’m not talking depressing music like… I don’t know, just soft stuff about breakups. If an artist creates a song about breakups that’s realistic, then I’m all for it. I find it helpful. Do you?

When an artist speaks of suicide, I find it helpful. Do you?

It’s nice to know that even the millionaires struggle – we have to remember that, we aren’t fucking alone here. We are the majority these days. We, The Sad. The individuals that will break from these chains & do some really, really cool shit in this world. Yeah, we’ll be dead one day, but how about we do some shit while we’re here? I think that sounds nice. Do you?

I’ll leave you with this: Next time you’re down on yourself, find a sad song and listen intently to the words, the melody, everything. Let the lyrics pull those feelings out of you, let the melody move those tears down your cheeks. Don’t be scared of listening to real shit. You need to hear it. You need to. We all know what running away does to us. We all know.

I really don’t know what the hell I typed here. I hope you enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing it. It’s about 90 degrees fahrenheit right now & I have about 10 mosquitoes feeding off my left arm & maybe my left butt cheek. I’ll find out later when I shower. Looks like it’s time to head back inside!

OH! Happy National Dog Day! (Don’t worry, this is the only “national” day that I actually give a damn about. Pet your pups!)

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.