You don't even know why, and you can't seem to cry.
When I first began working in suicide prevention, I attended 'Voices Of In-Sight', training facilitated by Roses in the Ocean. The workshop gave me an opportunity as a peer worker to reflect on my lived experience and learn how to share my personal story safely and effectively.
95% of what is written below I wrote during the workshop, and at the end of day 2, I shared my story with my fellow classmates. This is not an exhaustive list of lessons learnt, or even a small percentage of my recovery story, but a moment in time along my recovery journey.
Today I celebrate 10 year sober, what better way than to share my speech with you:
“I don't want to write a song about being out of my depth,
but I can tell you now I'm so close, so close to the edge.
How many times have I been here in my life?
Do I have what it takes to fight, fight to survive?”
Hi, I'm Josh, and I am a musician and peer worker with living experience of suicide, self-harm, mental health, and alcohol misuse. What I just said are the lyrics to a song I wrote about some of my feelings on suicidal thoughts.
At the time I could rock out to 1000s of people in clubs, concert halls and arenas, however today, speaking to a small group of my peers, this is very challenging for me.
As a touring musician living in Europe far away from my home, family, and friends down under, I performed from Moscow to Las Vegas and many points in between. I was rockin' and rollin', drinking, being the life of the party, and focusing my energy on feeling good at the risk of damaging my relationships, my own mental health, and my well-being. I thought this is what everyone did. We drank to forget, we partied to forget, and we didn't talk about the deep, the meaningful, and the painful.
I didn't know I had a choice.
While on stage or around fans I kept it together for years, acting like it was all good and I was the rock star I was expected to be, with not a care in the world. Sometimes, the good times were fun and genuine, and I do appreciate those times.
However, deep down there were times my world was crumbling around me and I felt things I didn't know how to acknowledge, process, or express. I felt shame, pain, and often very overwhelmed. I didn't always know where these feelings and thoughts came from, and they were very real. On the odd occasion I knew what event elicited an emotional response from me, I'd criticise myself heavily for feeling, what I now know are, usual human responses.
Although I was in my early 30s, it truly feels like a life time ago. I recognized I had a choice, a choice to learn about myself, or, remain trapped in a downward spiral. It was at that moment, when I recognized the fork in the road, that I began my journey of self-discovery.
I learnt 3 things along the way that helped develop my growth and build awareness of myself:
1 - It's OK to ask for help, in fact, it is necessary.
2- When I share my story, it’s an opportunity for me to learn too.
3 - There's strength in sharing my vulnerabilities. Asking For Help:
“I can't tell you what I don't know
I just came here to steal the show and,
You don't know what it's like, to be so alone”
When I was at one of my low points, feeling completely alone in the world, I wrote the above lyrics. At the time, I wasn't sure how to express my feelings of loneliness to those close to me. So I did was I was good at, what was expected of me, I carried on with the show.
For a very very long time I struggled, as I continued to deny myself help.
Over the years, some people offered, suggested or told me that they had received help, in various ways, and I declined them all as possibilities. I did my best to maintain my fool-proof tough guy exterior.
I was scared help would change me. I was scared that by reaching out I'd no longer be who I was. I identified as weak, scared and sensitive. Ironically, I was unhappy, uncomfortable and unloving to myself.
During my 20s and into my 30s, my mind was polarised between 'I can take on the world' and 'I am not worthy of this world'. I was “on holiday” for the foreseeable future, enjoying what Europe had to offer without a care for my future. At the same time, I felt that my life was slipping away. I rolled with the punches, except I wasn't really rolling, I was actually getting KO'd round after round.
So, there I was, at a part time job I had between gigs, after a family relationship breakdown. My grandparents had disowned me, I'd just finalised my divorce, and didn't quite know what the future had in store for me. At the time I had a partner, and I felt alone in a foreign land and questioning, was this holiday about to end?
One morning, I broke down at work, I couldn't stop crying. It was all too much, and I just couldn't go on anymore. It all got too much: too much weight on my shoulders, too much pain in my heart and no way out. I was at my wit's end with myself and my situation. Then, a way out came to mind. I knew this feeling, I had these thoughts before, but this time it was even stronger, more real. This was another deep deep hole I was falling into.
Honestly, I can't remember exactly how it all happened, or how my thoughts got to the point, but there was a moment of clarity. That morning, I recognized I had to make a choice; fall deeper into the hole on my own, or ask someone to help me out of it. It was at this moment I first asked for help. It was the breakthrough I needed to begin my journey.
My then partner helped me through the next few days, and the German healthcare system, bit by bit, revived me back to life. Acknowledging my feelings, worries and strengths. I was immediately offered weekly therapy, which I continued with various doctors for the next 8 years.
Over time, I started feeling confident enough to express my feelings and ask for help from my close friends, and they gladly stepped up to the plate. I started to develop deeper, closer, and more meaningful relationships with myself, and my friends. Our conversations stopped being superficial drunk party favours and became discussions about mental health over a cup of coffee. Very few back then knew about my suicidal thoughts, and just knowing I had their support, someone who listened, helped me through those dark times.
Asking for help was a pivotal moment in my life. It changed everything, and opened up a world of choices beyond my expectations. I began to learn more about myself, that “faking it” only could get you so far, and that I needed the helping hand of others to help me grow.
The path to recovery can't be walked alone.
Sharing my story:
“Sometimes I wish that an accident would happen to you or me,
Then I might not have to live with this daily hostility.
Sometimes I wish that I was just a make believe,
Then I might stop to live in this fantasy.
Don't you see? Don't you see?”
I didn't want to talk to anyone, until I started talking.
I met a therapist a few days after my breakdown, who listened with compassion, warmth, and care. The day I started therapy, there was just a trickle coming out of me, but eventually I felt the flood gates open.
As time passed, and I started talking more and more with my therapist, I began to learn that there's strength, learning, and growth in talking about those “things”, I used to hide. These things ranged from the mundane to the deep, dark, and scary. Over time I was encouraged to look at myself in the mirror and realised I was able to reflect, make choices, and change for the better. The fear of change I had in the past, began to disappear.
It wasn't always easy then, in fact it can be downright painful, and it isn't always easy now, but I learnt more about my true self, my thoughts, my feelings, and my behaviour. I learnt that I could choose how to interpret events, become aware of my thoughts, feelings and behaviour, and choose how I respond. I started to find control, and with that control came freedom.
A whole new world of choices opened up.
Over the years I slowly opened up to sharing my story to more folks. At first in song, hiding behind lyrics, melody, and bravado, but over time I started to share my deepest fears directly with people close to me. The response was heart-warming and encouraging, I was often reminded how far I'd come, the inner strength I was building and many folks shared similar experiences with me. Sometimes we cried together. Sometimes we held each other. Sometimes we sat in silence together.
I learnt that I wanted to connect with others, and learn from deep and meaningful communication.
From talking and writing lyrics, I began to journal which became a blog I would post from time to time. It all started during the COVID lockdowns in 2020, when my, newlywed, wife and I were trying to move from Germany back to Australia and we became stranded in Germany for a couple of months. The confusion, frustration and challenges we faced were too great for me. Once again, I went back into the hole with only one way out.
I had lost sight that I had a choice.
To keep friends and family informed of the situation, I started writing about the events of the day, the phone calls to airlines and immigration, and I would share these on social media. The support we received started to help me out of the hole, and I began to see I had options.
Over time my blogging became a place to share my life with those who are now far off in Europe, and also with strangers who may connect with my experiences. It became a place where I could process my thoughts and feelings, constantly questioning myself, as I typed, to support my personal growth. I could copy, paste and edit until I found a flow, a resolution or maybe an open question. Often times I wasn't sure where the blog would take me or when it was finished, but at some point, I knew I had acknowledged, I had processed, and eventually shared what was on my mind. I found that once I posted online, I was releasing myself from the weight, the pain, the frustration within me.
I found strength in being accountable, open, and true to myself through sharing my story.
Vulnerability:
“I wasn't the brightest child in town
I wasn't the highest climber around
I did what I had to do
To get through the day, just like you”
When vulnerability becomes a strength.
I was rarely given examples in my younger years that it was OK for a man to show emotion, to cry, or to express his worries.
Before our wedding, my wife and I spoke about our mental health and some of our experiences, but I personally didn't go into detail regarding my suicidal thoughts. I mean, I was in love and, at the time, a lot of that dark stuff felt far away, off in the distance. She knew I was damaged goods, and yet she still proposed to me.
The first time I cried in front of my wife, I felt like an open wound, barring my soul, my fears and my pain. I broke down that I had felt worthless, hopeless, and suicidal. I was in the hole, deep in the dark hole.
Honestly, in that moment I expected to be cut down to size, told to man up, stop crying, get over yourself.
She responded with love, care and compassion. She understood my vulnerability and acknowledged how much strength it took to speak those words. She held me, and continues to hold me today.
I have consistently been overwhelmed with the compassion and caring people have shown in response to sharing a vulnerability. It has help me build strength and confidence within myself, and it has fostered a deeper connection with myself and others.
Over time, my vulnerability has given me so much strength, I can now choose to sit with someone, and help them when they’re in their own hole, their vulnerability, and their pain.
Vulnerability has given me strength to know I don't have all the answers, and be OK with that. It showed me that it takes great strength to share what's really going on. It allowed me to feel hope, and therefore provide hope for others.
Vulnerability has provided me with validation.
Many of my friends, fans and family still don't know about my living experience. Today, when I share my story, once again I am vulnerable. When they hear me speak, I hope they will feel my courage, see my strength and understand my words.
In conclusion:
Now, here we are at the point where I give my conclusion, my big call to action. I book-end my story. You'd think I'd have written lyrics for this too, right? I'm sorry to say, I haven't written any.
There is no closure to my story. There isn't an epilogue, this isn't an encore...
I'm still here... I'm still owning my choices... I'm still growing... I’m still learning... I'm still doing the best I can... I'm still asking for help... I'm still sharing my story... I'm still finding strength in my vulnerabilities...
My journey continues, and my story isn't over.
Many times, I could only see one way out. I was blocked in, trapped, barricaded. For many this becomes a protective factor, for others it's a constant threat, and for some it sneaks up on us when we least expect it.
Our own personal journeys are like the roads that cover this vast country, with many exits, alternative routes and traffic lights. When we choose to grow, we can learn to navigate those roads as best we can, and direct our lives.
We are all driving down the road, and we all have a choice how to drive down that road. Some folks are over-taking others, some changing a tire on the hard shoulder, some are on their horn, and some are still learning to use their indicators. There are those who don't have a map, and others who are tech savvy, using google maps on their fancy phones. Some may decide to pull over to ask for directions.
And some of us just took a turn off because there’s a detour ahead.
For a long time, I was driving around lost. On the outside I was all confidence, cruising around, but on the inside, I had no idea where, or who, I was, just following the traffic, hoping no one would notice my insecurities. I didn’t want to ask for directions, because admitting I was lost meant shattering the fragile exterior I had built up over the years.
I felt there just wasn’t any choice available, suitable, or attainable. Worst of all, I thought I knew it all and in my despair, I wanted it all to be over. Looking back, I just didn’t know better, because I didn’t ask the hard questions, and because I was scared of the honest answers. Life is harder, when I’m ignorant, unaware, and lost.
Over time I found growth, freedom, and strength in learning about the choices available to me and then making, sometimes hard, yet healthy decisions. It isn’t always easy, and each situation can be as confronting as the last, but it's sure been one hell of a road trip, that I now know has endless sunsets and sunrises for me to enjoy.
There are roadmaps all around if we look and reach out for them, we don’t have to feel lost or alone on our journey.
Thank you for listening,
Josh













