Hau Kola, na pilamayaye.
Introduction
I’ve debated much over the past few days, as to whether or not I should post this, but this morning, as my wife left for work, she said:
“don’t forget to wear something green for mental health awareness day!” (Actually in the U.S., May is mental health awareness month, while globally, it seems October 10 is recognized as mental health awareness day.)
…and I knew, embarrassed as I may feel by it all, I need to humble myself and share this. I don’t need - or even want - kind wishes, sympathy, or the like. My intent is to share my experience in case anyone else is going through something similar.
I’ve worked hard to create a positive image and lifestyle for myself. This story goes counter to all my efforts; it stands against the brand I’m building here on Hive - I am proud to believe that I am building a culture of happiness, love, and music. But the truth is, none of us are static. We are not constants, but fluid and dynamic creatures, complicated to our core. If I build this brand of positivity by burying the other side of things, I can no longer be proud of it. I have to take the risk, and hope that Hive will understand that this doesn’t invalidate my outward positivity. I hope it goes that way, but I would risk all that if I could help one person who needs to hear this - I would risk it all to help one person, brand-be-damned.
Backstory
I am a husband and father, and I love my family intensely. I am a veteran (albeit not entirely proud, but that’s a story for another time). I am an electrical engineer. All in all, I am someone you would typically consider as being a healthy, balanced, and happy man. I exercise daily, I pay attention to my diet, I practice guitar and flute, I design and build things for my home, woo woo woo.
But on May 2nd, 2022, just two days before my 39th birthday, I was detained against my will by the police, to prevent my suicide. I gave them a hell of a fight, too. It took three of them to get me in cuffs, and because of the amount of effort it required, they also shackled my ankles. The scrapes, bruises and cuts are minor, but they still hurt today, three days after the fact…no where near as badly as my heart. Self-love is hard to practice right now, but I believe it is the only path forward.
…yes, alcohol was involved, but the root of the issue I believe is the unaddressed mental health issues I’ve told myself year after year would heal if I just practiced meditation, mindfulness, and generally balanced living. I thought I could fix myself, but have finally realized that I need help, and I am going to get it.
What Happened
I can’t help but get emotional as I write this down today. More so as I think about anybody else who may be going through the same things I went through, who doesn’t have the same amount of love and support behind them as I was fortunate enough to have.
The real underlying issues behind my situation, I prefer to keep to myself. Not out of secrecy, but because they add no value to my goal, which is to use the relevant portion of my story to (hopefully) help others. But on May 2nd, somewhere around the middle of the day, I began drinking. It started light, but I was already in a dark place and it quickly ramped up. I managed to squeeze in several drinks without being noticed, and had a few more above radar. I decided somewhere in all that, that today was my day to die. The world doesn’t need me and I can’t bear the weight of my own worthlessness…that kind of stuff.
We went to my sister’s house for dinner. She had been watching our kids for the day so we could get some work done, and she has two girls about the same age, so they love getting time together.
During dinner, my wife noticed I was drinking more than I ever really do. She told me later she decided to ignore it because she didn’t want to trigger me - which was smart because in that mode, it definitely would have.
After dinner, as we got ready to leave, I gave my little nieces ominous goodbyes, along with my brother in law and sister. I cried as I did so, and made vague comments about their bright futures. To be honest I don’t remember all of it, but I remember the mental space I was in at the time, as the clock brought me closer and closer to a shotgun behind the shed.
In the car, my wife gently asked me, what was all that about?
I knew if I told her my plans, she’d ruin them and I’d have to go on living, adding no value to this world and having to bear the guilt of it all, so instead I exploded and jumped out of the moving car. The whole ordeal may have lasted as much as 30 minutes, I’m not sure, but with my background, I’m pretty damn good at not being found when I don’t want to.
So I saw the police arrive on the scene, I watched it unfold from under some bushes on a hilltop - someone had seen me jump from the moving car and called.
My escape route was planned. I would traverse the hillside, moving away from the scene and traveling ultimately out of sight. Anytime I heard a car or saw lights, I would roll under the vegetation and wait. I had already ditched my wallet and phone…I wouldn’t need them anymore, and they were more likely to get me caught than to do me any good.
…
I had covered some small distance when I became cold and tired. I decided to relieve myself of the discipline of remaining unseen. They found me within minutes.
One of the officers joked: your wife said we’d never find you if you didn’t wanna be found!
She was right. I said.
We talked for a few moments. I heard them call it in on the radio. They told me to put my hands behind my back. I told them they had no right to detain me. I just wanted a fight, but these guys were too nice, they didn’t want to hurt me. So I made a run for it and was tackled almost instantly - but still it took three of them to get me cuffed. I got my fight. I knew I would lose and I did, but I expressed myself on the battlefield nonetheless.
Although I wasn’t an easy customer, the officers could tell I was in pain. We talked on the way to the hospital. They had to pull over once cuz I did that trick where you pull your legs up through the handcuffs to get your hands out from behind you. I’d seen that done in movies, always wondered if I’d be able to do it, and saw this as possibly my last chance. When I told them my reasoning for doing it, they laughed a bit, told me no more screwing around, and that they’d let me keep my hands in front of me if I promised to get my seatbelt on and leave it on.
I agreed to the terms and we continued. By the time we arrived, I felt good enough. I think we all got along pretty well and there were no hard feelings, but I can’t swear that they felt the same way.
Hospital staff was nice and all, I just had to stay tucked away in a padded room for the night. Calling my wife after being discharged in the morning was the worst. I didn’t want to do it. What would she say? What had I put her through? The kids!? Oh man, if I felt like worthless trash yesterday, it was nothing compared to the guilt and shame of today.
But when I finally called, she soothed me. She told me we needed to have a serious talk, but that right now she just wanted me to know that she loves me. I am a lucky man, I have more than I deserve.
She drove me around all day as we searched for my wallet and phone. Eventually we found them, but it was a big setback against our original plans for the weekend. I am humbled by all the people, mostly my wife, who chose to love and support me through and after this mental breakdown.
We did end up having that serious talk, but it wasn’t until my birthday, May 4th, after the kids went to bed. She agreed with me, that I need to get real help. She had many questions and things she wanted me to understand. She had every right to express these things and I knew my job in this moment was to be as good a friend to her as she’s been to me. I’m getting help. I can’t do this to her - or especially our kids - ever again.
Photos
The police gave my kids these stuffed animals. Part of me wanted to get them out of our home, not wanting the kids to have a reminder of daddy’s bad night. But I decided, better that they should remember it. Better for them to know that even daddies need help sometimes. Better for them to know that, even when daddies fail, there are positive role models out there who care and are willing to help. The stuffies stay, and will be welcomed as members of our little family.
The cut on my face is from running into the end of a tree branch during part of my escape. All others are because I chose to fight the police with no shirt on, on the side of the road. Straight out of an episode of Cops. I am humbled before you Hive, please go easy on me.
My wrists are still yellow and purple from the cuffs, but it doesn’t show up well for the camera. This is all because of the effort I made to resist, and because of my little Houdini stunt in the back of the squad car. I can’t express enough, the officers were courteous and professional, they only did what I made them do. And ultimately, they saved my life. I am grateful for all of them.
According to my discharge papers, it was Adult Adjustment Disorder. Whatever it is/was, the most important thing to take away is that I am done thinking I can do this on my own.
I apologize, I know this is all a bit cluttered and disorganized. I wanted to get it out while it was fresh, so I can put it behind me. I stand now, vulnerable before my Hive community. I hope I can still be the fluteman and not be seen as a fraud, but again, I would sacrifice all that, if this could only help someone else in some way.
Pilamayaye, Kola. Aho mitakuye oyasin.
I’m just going to put this here. Asking for help is hard. Not asking for help is harder.
Take care of yourselves, my friends. I love you, I appreciate you, and I want you all to know that I am ok.
Call: 1-800-273-8255
Thanks for checking out some more of my work! As always, I hope you enjoyed witnessing as much as I enjoyed creating!
© Photos and words by 
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