Wrestling With Depression- Character Development

Recently I done my first face to face interview for about 4 or 5 months. I realise its a bit odd to write a thing referencing that interview before the actual interview exists but sometimes ye just need to write what’s there. The interview will exist very soon and it’ll be deliciously wonderful (thats what she said). The buzz I felt when I left that interview with Jack Jester made me realise this is what I need to do. After a period of extremely poor mental health and not really having the impetus to fully immerse myself in this, suddenly it was back. Even if its never for a living. This is it. This is what makes me tick. Nothing else has ever gave me that feeling of accomplishment than stoating away from an interview knowing its going to be fuckin dynamite when its done. Listening to him absolute beam about the tag team with Sha Samuels and how much fun its been was a joy and honestly, I’m happy for them as people. As cheesy as that is, they have both at times looked like they’ve been weighed down by wrestling. Constantly under pressure due to the high standards that they demand of themselves. Yet here they are now. In this wee pocket of joy in the wrestling world absolutely loving their jobs. Loving a completely unplanned team and loving each other (JAAAAAAACK) and its lovely to see. Heartwarming.

Anyway, we’re taking a long road for short cut here. I’ve been no well pretty much since that interview. Dragged my weary arse to a show the following night and have been in my bed with a heavy chest infection ever since. Having the auld asthma has meant its kicked my cunt right in. Feeling like absolute dug muck. An unwelcome crash landing and its led to a really fucking testing week mentally and physically. Cant sleep, hardly eating, barely left the house, narrating this shitey feud between physical and mental no wellness and wondering what one is winning. Or are they both just knocking fuck out one and other, and in turn, me? Who cares. Point is, im on my arse right now and thats ok. Realising that’s ok has been a hugely significant thing. Sometimes it wont be easy. Sometimes some choppy waters need negated. Its all building blocks that make you what you are in the end.

Something Jester spoke a lot about that stuck with me was how characters develop in wrestling. His character had no plan. He had a vague idea of the direction and just asked to be trusted to go with it. Add wee bits as he went, take bits away that didn’t work, let it evolve. Its kinda stuck with me in the situation I and many others find myself in mentally all the time. This internal struggle between wanting to be your best self all the time and realising that’s not realistic and growing over time is the best way. For a long while I was ok. I wasn’t on any medication bar beta blockers. I felt good day to day. Went from being pretty certain I wanted to die for the better part of 10 years, to feeling content within a year. That year was filled with things I loved. Writing, wrestling, the fitba, writing about wrestling and fitba, being social, making new friends and getting closer to my existing ones. Doing the shit that made me the person I am. I turned my life around and made it worth living and its been filled with good things since. For a while I didnt hate myself. Slowly it started to fall away. We’re all made up of these wee bits we collect along the way in life. Wee trinkets that remind us where we’ve been and where we want to end up. That wee good spell is part of me now. I know its possible. Its there. It’s just finding it again that’s proving problematic. Calling it problematic is improvement because for a while there it felt impossible. Feeling like contentment is completely out of reach is an absolute sickener. It fucks with you. I have hope again and that’s good. Its not ok right now, I’m not ok, but a part of me believes I will be again one day and that’s a massive part of the battle. Realising that it doesn’t have to all fall in place and be perfect immediately is quite freeing. It will come if you work at it.

I’ve been to counselling, tried new meds, tried just getting on with life and hoping it eases. If I’m telling myself the truth, none of it has worked in the slightest this time. Nothing’s getting “over” (soz) so why stick with it if its no working? Why keep banging the drum is no cunt’s listening? Its time to get back to just doing the shit I love doing. I dunno if this is a moment of clarity or the moment where the last on my sanity slipped away on this page. I hope its the former. I hope this makes sense to someone. Anyone. I just want to be better and that analogy has really resonated with me. The best characters in wrestling aren’t the finished article on day one. Stunning Stevie Williams will tell ye that. Rocky Maivia will tell ye that. “Mean” Mark Callous would tell ye that. Even ma main man Isaac Yankem DDS would fill yer motor up with fake Diesel to attest to that. I’ve got so wrapped up in things not working and not getting better that I’ve completely floated away from the stuff that worked in the past. I’m a million miles from that nice wee fulfilling routine I had. Writing regularly. Not putting myself under intense pressure to make every single thing better than the last one. Its there. I just need to find it. None of this shit is working but that’s ok because eventually I’ll find the thing that gets the reaction I want. Or it’ll find me.

When the mental health goes haywire my brain feels like a connect the dots. All the parts are there. I know how to make it better. I know how to get on the right path and make it all make sense. But its scattered. All over the place. Disconnected. Ideas leave as soon as they enter. Encouragement vanishes right on the spot it appears in. I think I’ve really stumbled this past week because finally I found some light. I found my spark again and my body has heavy betrayed me. As my body has felt more and more depleted my mind has went with it. Asthma is a scary bastard when it gets bad. Fucker comes out of nowhere and shuts yer shit down. Zaps the energy right out you and that’s you on your arse. In my brain that has meant catastrophe when in reality is nothing more than setback. Like the 10+ years I spent hating every waking second of my life and wanting it to end. It passed. I learned from it and moved past it, and I will again.

Never let this shit beat you. All the sleepless nights. Looking in the bathroom mirror and despising the specky yeti looking back at ye. It’ll make me stronger in the long run. I’ll realise those bits are not needed and the bits that make everything tick will fall back into place. Its fuck all more than a setback. If you suffer from mental illness I’m no gonnae kid on I feel what you feel. No one feels truly the same as another when it comes to this. No two stories are the exact same.

When I first started to climb out of the depression hole I spent most of my teens and early 20s in, it felt like I’d lived my life locked away in the dark and suddenly the doors swung open and there it was. Light. I’m looking forward to seeing that light again. It might not be today, might not be for another 10 year for all I know, but it’ll come back.