#dropkickdepression

[badnewsadolf]

The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me is raging inside me #girlswithink #hotdogswithink #nofilter #hotline #awareness #cpa #emo #popunk #dropkickdepression #laetitiayoudestroyme #imissyou

[terracalaway-blog]

rough morning.

This morning was a bit of a rough one.

This morning I heard audio of an altercation between a couple. You all know what I'm talking about. Why did a short clipping of an argument spark a rough morning?

"It'll get me away from you" "Anything to get away from you"

I've never gone fully in detail with my personal life, but I feel today is a good day for it. You see, I've screamed those same words. Those same tears. I know how it feels to be so blind and naive when you think your feelings are those of love. That the hurt and anger isn't real. But it is...

I was in a toxic relationship. He wasn't just toxic for me, but we were toxic for each other. It started out great. We were happy. Then around 6 months in, I saw the first bit of anger out of him. He called me names that no man should ever say to the "woman he loves". He told me how worthless and pathetic I was. But the next day, he apologized and hugged me and kissed me and "made it all better". Then a few months later, it started again. Over small things. Things that shouldn't be that big of a deal. But every time, we'd fight, I'd cry, he'd apologize hours later or the next day and it'd be fine.

I told myself the good days outweighed the bad, so it was ok. This continued and got worse as time went on. By the second year, I was afraid of him. He would snap for anything. Now, I'm not a combative person and I hate conflict, but at the time when he'd get into my face, I would then get defensive of myself and scream back. Even if I knew it was a stupid argument and over nothing. I would scream back just to hide the fact I was afraid. Then things started being thrown at me. Dishes, decorative pieces of furniture that were in range, a cat climbing tower. It was getting worse. At one point, I was so afraid and on crutches from a wrestling injury that I called the police. Again, all these arguments were over nothing or something that shouldn't escalate to that point.

I was told I was worthless, I should kill myself, I was a piece of shit. I had a door slammed into my head that broke the door.

Yet I stayed. Why? Because "the good days outweighed the bad". When he was happy, it was great. We got along so well. It was like Jekyll & Hyde. I started believing I was a bad person. I started believing I should kill myself. I started believing I was worthless. But on those good days, it was good.

Toward the end, it was never good. But no one knew that. I went on Facebook and posted how happy I was, how awesome he was, what a wonderful life we lived. I smiled through social media. I made it seem like we were the perfect couple. I don't know why. Maybe I didn't want people to ask because it'd set him off, maybe I didn't want people to know because they'd judge me. Just something in my brain told me "Don't let them know..." I made up lies to cover what I was going through. I was happy. So "happy" I wanted to die. So "happy" I tried to die.

Then the day came where I knew it was over. I finally got the courage to go. I was so scared, I called my friend who lived an hour away to come get me. We were most of the way back to her place when he called, begging me to come back. Halfway between begging and telling me he was going to destroy my stuff. I panicked and had her take me back, where I swore to her I would leave in the morning. My mothers ex-husband was in town for a softball tournament with my sister, so I knew I had a way to escape. I went back, we fought, we screamed, and it came to the point where he gave in, stormed off and told me to have myself and my stuff out by dawn.

Dawn came, my stepfather arrived, and I started to leave. He grabbed me by my arms and told me I wasn't leaving. He shoved me into the wall and bear hugged me, screaming at me he wasn't letting me leave. That I wasn't allowed to leave. I shoved and screamed for help, hoping my stepfather would hear me. I finally got one arm free and elbowed him as hard as I could in the head. He gave up and went back to screaming and throwing things. He threw my things outside our two story apartment, onto the lawn. He screamed threats at my stepfather who was below, putting my things into my car. I grabbed what I could and ran. I ran and never looked back.

When people noticed we had split, they were so confused. Why did the happy couple just randomly disappear from each other? It caused more questions than I wanted. Than I expected. It was hard. But I'm alive, I'm happy. I will forever be scarred, I still cry about it, I still have moments where I'm scared when I shouldn't be.

But it gets better because I know one thing -- I'm safe.

So this morning, when I heard the familiar screams of mental pain, it hurt. Now no one truly knows what happens behind closed doors, no one knows both sides of the story if only one is present. All I can say is if you are one of those girls or guys that know what it feels like to "love" so much that you are no longer sure if it's love or hate... You are not alone.

If you need help, please reach out. If it ever escalates to where you are afraid, to where you fear for your life, please do something. Not everyone escapes but you don't have to be that person.  Get help. Be safe. No one will judge you, no one will ridicule you. I've been there, like millions of other women and men... It will be ok.

[dropkickdepression-blog]

please.

Something that's been on my mind recently.

Social media is not only the greatest thing for keeping up with friends and family that you wouldn't see or talk to normally, but is also the worst in that it gives everyone, including strangers, instant access to your life in negative ways. These days you can go viral from something and it ruin your life in a matter of days. But down to the main point - It gives the world an instant platform to judge others.

I use social media to promote my wrestling appearances, talk with friends and fans around the world, and spread the Dropkick Depression message as loud as I can. So I'm on Facebook and Twitter pretty much all day, trying to keep up with all of it. Because of this I see what's going on, even people I don't ever interact with, I see what's being said.

Depression is a mental illness. Sometimes a hidden, secret illness that others don't know about. Some people can't bring themselves to speak out loud about it and hide it from the world. So you never know who is secretly suffering. Now here's where the whole thing comes together.

I have a girl at work who I've had to correct a few times. She came in one day and said, "I'm so depressed. I lost a pair of jeans I just bought." I knew what she meant. She meant she was bummed out she just got some cute jeans and now she can't find them. She's also come in and said, "I'm hungover still. So depressed I can't go home." Again, I know what she means. Every time something like this has been said, I'll tell her "I'm sorry you're sad" or "That sucks, but I'm sure your day will get better". I have never, ever once said "You don't have depression" in any way. Why? Why should I not tell this girl, who doesn't have an understanding of what depression is, that she is misrepresenting depression?

Because I don't know that.

She's one of the happiest girls I know, but I'm not with her 24/7. I'm not inside her brain. She could be breaking inside and we have no idea. So then you get someone telling her "Stop that, you're not depressed, I'm depressed!" might cause an event that could go downhill. I have explained to her the truth of what depression actually is, but I've never told her "No you're not."

Becuase I don't know that.

Robin Williams. Robin Williams was one of the funniest people in the world. He made billions of people laugh for decades. He had such an amazingly bright, contagious smile. He also killed himself. If Robin told a fan or someone who didn't know him extremely well that he was depressed, imagine how he'd feel if that person said back "No you're not!". Depression is already controlling our minds and hearts, hearing something like that can hurt. Knowing that people don't believe you when you're crying out in your own way? It hurts.

I see people on Facebook and Twitter say they're depressed because something happened, even something small, and people who don't know this person attack them. They try and throw facts into their faces, like "Depression isn't a mood! You're not depressed!" How do you know that? How do you know that they aren't actually depressed and seeking help? How would you feel if the next day, that person was no longer here?

Please, continue to fight the good fight to bring awareness to depression and mental illness.

Please, continue to support those who have spoken openly about it.

Most importantly, please remember that we all handle our depression in different ways and many times, it's hidden. You don't truly know what that person is going through. Just remember that before you accuse them.

All I ask.

#wearenotalone

[green-ant]

Instagram's cropping did me dirty but here is where I'll be until the end of the year! 12/7 with @starprollc 12/14 double duty at @wrestlingis_fun and @dropkickdepression Stay tuned for the 12/27 announcement. https://www.instagram.com/p/B5nFqolpUVU/?igshid=1h8134ji9xw2w

[dropkickdepression-blog]

one by one.

So this post serves two purposes.

To hopefully help and motivate others and to be a constant reminder to myself that I'm not allowed to give up.

When I saw the new craze, the Sarahah app, come about I knew it was something I could turn into a small social experiment. And now that it's been about a week, I've decided to stop the experiment and share my experiences.

You see, when I first started Dropkick Depression years ago I was told I'd never do anything. I'd never make a difference. That it was stupid I was even trying and a waste of time. At first all it really did was provide a few small people who liked the page at the time a way to reach out to someone anyonymously and vent. Then when I fell into my darkest depression, I stopped even caring. Why should I keep trying if I was only a page with a dozen likes.

Fast forward to last year when a fire was lit under me to try and bring Dropkick Depression back from the dead. I began posting regularly. I posted inspirational quotes and mental illness statistics. I was still someone that people could come and vent to if they needed an ear. Still, not where I wanted to be. Then I had an idea to put together a book. Kicking Out At Two was released and brought a larger audience to the picture. I still felt like I wasn't making a difference. I want to change the world. I wasn't making a drop.

Second book came out. Mental health workbook came out. Announced a wrestling charity show that'll benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Progress, right?

But for someone who wants to make a huge impact, someone who wants to actually change the world and make a difference, all of that seemed like I wasn't doing good enough. I wasn't doing enough. This is where the Sarahah app comes in. Now please know I was very uncomfortable opening myself up to an anonymous thing like that again. I remember when Ask.fm was a thing, all I would get were threats and comments on how I was ugly or fat. But I'm in a place now that I'm starting to not care about others thoughts on my appearance which took a LONG time. But I wanted to see what would happen.

Almost every comment left was about Dropkick Depression. But not only were these comments about Dropkick Depression, they were about how Dropkick Depression has inspired them to do more. Some people reached out that because of Dropkick Depression, they went and got help for their depression and are on the track for recovery. Others about how they want to do more in the community to help raise awareness and just be better. Then it hit me.

I'm not a multi-million dollar company. I'm not a large charity that has employees. I don't even have an office. I'm not big by any means.

But I'm one person, who has convinced through my actions other people to do something. Those people are going to go on to do something awesome and inspire someone else to do something great. It finally hit me that I may not be changing the world all at once, or making a huge impact at once. But I'm just doing my part of carrying a torch that catches others torches and helps bring a brighter world.

So if you feel like you're not making a difference, just try and remember one single person who has thanked you or who has told you they love what you do. That one person may then go on to do something to inspire another to inspire another to inspire another. We all have a chance to change the world. One by one. We all have a chance to make a difference. One by one.

We are not alone.

[dropkickdepression-blog]

project: hate can’t win

PROJECT: Hate Can’t Win

Hate Can’t Win.

In the world today, we see hatred on every corner. In person, on social media, on our tv screens. We are surrounded by negativity and hate. But hate can’t win.

We are teaching our children, our teenagers, our young, impressionable adults that hate is ok… That hate wins.

Hate can’t win.

Love all genders. Love all races. Love all sexual orientations. Love all body shapes. Love all humans.

We are in this together, this world should be left better than when we arrived.

Hate can’t win.

Become a driving force in bettering our future and proudly show your fight against hate with one of these t-shirts. This shirt is available in every color under the rainbow as well as black and white. These are unisex fit t-shirts. We want to thank Kevin Brittingham for the wonderful inspiration.

Available at http://www.dropkickdepression.com/product/hate-can-t-win

[dropkickdepression-blog]

we are all human.

I have a mother. I have a father. I have a sister. I have a step-mother and two step-siblings. I have a handfull of aunts and uncles. I have more cousins than I can count.

I went to two elementary schools, two middle schools, and two high schools. I studied German in high school and spent a summer in Germany. I played softball for 14 years. I don't know how to swim. I love all animals, but bears and sharks are my favorites. My favorite male wrestler is William Regal, my favorite female wrestler is Victoria. I love sports, especially hockey. I've done things I'm proud of. I've done things I regret.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because I'm human. Because we're all human. In todays age of immediate access to the world at the click of a button seems to have blurred the lines of reality. You see, I'm not just photos and videos online. I'm not just a Twitter handle or a Facebook page. I am a human being. I am a person with family, friends, history, likes, dislikes. I am just like you. Flesh and bone.

When you take to the internet to tear people down, you're tearing down someones daughter, someones brother, someones cousin, someones best friend. You have a family, you have friends, you have history, you have likes, you have dislikes. We are all the same. It doesn't benefit anyone to attack others online. It doesn't benefit you. What do you get out of it? What does the person being attacked gain out of it? Suicides are on the rise, the number of people suffering depression and anxiety are on the rise.

Just for a moment, step into the shoes of the person you're attacking. Or step into the shoes of their loved ones. Children are committing suicide because they're bullied in schools, they're bullied online. How would you feel if that was your child? Your little sister or brother? Your little cousin?

Just take a moment, think. We're all the same. We're all flesh and bone. We're all human.

- Terra  |  @terracalaway 

[terracalaway-blog]

PROJECT: Hate Can't Win

Hate Can't Win.

In the world today, we see hatred on every corner. In person, on social media, on our tv screens. We are surrounded by negativity and hate. But hate can't win.

We are teaching our children, our teenagers, our young, impressionable adults that hate is ok... That hate wins.

Hate can't win.

Love all genders. Love all races. Love all sexual orientations. Love all body shapes. Love all humans.

We are in this together, this world should be left better than when we arrived.

Hate can't win.

Become a driving force in bettering our future and proudly show your fight against hate with one of these t-shirts. This shirt is available in every color under the rainbow as well as black and white. These are unisex fit t-shirts. We want to thank Kevin Brittingham for the wonderful inspiration.

Available at http://www.dropkickdepression.com/product/hate-can-t-win

[dropkickdepression-blog]

breaking the cycle.

Everyone has varying opinions about what part of depression, if there is one, is the “worst.” This could mean the most stressing, the most impactful short-term or long-term, etc. How each person’s life is affected individually is what influences this perception. In this week’s post I am going to offer my personal experience.

Throughout my life I have faced many possibilities, outcomes, and even actualities. I have faced self harm, death and suicide, and even the challenges of trying to stand strong to help others through their darkness. The hardest part of depression for me personally, however, is the cycle I seem to get trapped in. Honesty is paramount so I am going to bear my soul here: even as I write this I am currently trapped in the cycle I speak of. Fingers and toes crossed that writing to you will be cathartic. Time to explain…

These cycles generally begin with typical depression symptoms. You know, a bad experience. Self doubt. Worthlessness. Hopelessness. But we are survivors, we are fighters! We know to reach out. It has taken years but this is now what I typically do. Most times it works out okay; I have supportive friends and family. But despite reassurance of being wanted, being needed, being loved, I am always overcome with this feeling of absolute dread and guilt. I feel like a burden. I end up regretting reaching out because I disturbed someone else and I reminded them and reaffirmed to myself that I have issues. I have definite mental health issues and depression problems, and who wants to deal with someone like that, right?

The reasonable part of me knows that I shouldn’t be so ashamed. I shouldn’t be so deceived or naïve. I myself drop everything to help my friends when they struggle. I have forgone much-needed sleep to talk a friend out of self-harming. I have been ringside at wrestling shows texting someone states away who was suicidal. I have been called admirable, a stalwart, and yet my autonomic response is to feel guilty for asking for someone to do the same for me, to feel like a burden and to stay silent from that point on. Shockingly, that is what happens when the response was positive! Sometimes I have been met with disregard. Someone was “too busy” to listen to my need. I often feel as though people don’t believe me, they don’t understand the severity of the torture or the effort it took to even say anything at all. The term “silent cry” is often used, and I can attest… there are frequent days where I am sitting still and quiet and I feel like my soul is lurching out of my chest to scream at the world. Regardless, the outcome is the same as the positive response. I always feel guilty and burdensome. It just occurs more intensely and quickly with the negative response.

And with that we are back to square one, the beginning of the cycle.

Depressive feelings  -> proactive effort  -> guilt and shame for effort  -> depressive feelings

And so on and so on and so on and so on and so on.

Which is where the title of this post comes in.. “Breaking the Cycle.” This happens like a rip tide. Anything can happen, without warning, to trigger you into worsening depression, grabbing you and sucking you in and dragging you along to the point you feel helpless and as though you are drowning. So, when that happens, I hope you can do as I am trying to do now and visualize the process. Understand why you feel the way you do and how you might feel when you take action. It is crucial to remember that it is always encouraged to reach out. Don’t stay silent. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. And when you do.. try not to feel guilty. I struggle SO MUCH with this but I try to remind myself that instead of quitting, I reached out. I took a chance. I was honest and brave. That isn’t “helpless” at all even though it feels that way. That is being a WARRIOR. That is resilience. And that, my friends, is survival. Josh | @cawfeemonstir, @wrestlediary

[dropkickdepression-blog]

rough morning.

This morning was a bit of a rough one.

This morning I heard audio of an altercation between a couple. You all know what I’m talking about. Why did a short clipping of an argument spark a rough morning?

“It’ll get me away from you” “Anything to get away from you”

I’ve never gone fully in detail with my personal life, but I feel today is a good day for it. You see, I’ve screamed those same words. Those same tears. I know how it feels to be so blind and naive when you think your feelings are those of love. That the hurt and anger isn’t real. But it is…

I was in a toxic relationship. He wasn’t just toxic for me, but we were toxic for each other. It started out great. We were happy. Then around 6 months in, I saw the first bit of anger out of him. He called me names that no man should ever say to the “woman he loves”. He told me how worthless and pathetic I was. But the next day, he apologized and hugged me and kissed me and “made it all better”. Then a few months later, it started again. Over small things. Things that shouldn’t be that big of a deal. But every time, we’d fight, I’d cry, he’d apologize hours later or the next day and it’d be fine.

I told myself the good days outweighed the bad, so it was ok. This continued and got worse as time went on. By the second year, I was afraid of him. He would snap for anything. Now, I’m not a combative person and I hate conflict, but at the time when he’d get into my face, I would then get defensive of myself and scream back. Even if I knew it was a stupid argument and over nothing. I would scream back just to hide the fact I was afraid. Then things started being thrown at me. Dishes, decorative pieces of furniture that were in range, a cat climbing tower. It was getting worse. At one point, I was so afraid and on crutches from a wrestling injury that I called the police. Again, all these arguments were over nothing or something that shouldn’t escalate to that point.

I was told I was worthless, I should kill myself, I was a piece of shit. I had a door slammed into my head that broke the door.

Yet I stayed. Why? Because “the good days outweighed the bad”. When he was happy, it was great. We got along so well. It was like Jekyll & Hyde. I started believing I was a bad person. I started believing I should kill myself. I started believing I was worthless. But on those good days, it was good.

Toward the end, it was never good. But no one knew that. I went on Facebook and posted how happy I was, how awesome he was, what a wonderful life we lived. I smiled through social media. I made it seem like we were the perfect couple. I don’t know why. Maybe I didn’t want people to ask because it’d set him off, maybe I didn’t want people to know because they’d judge me. Just something in my brain told me “Don’t let them know…” I made up lies to cover what I was going through. I was happy. So “happy” I wanted to die. So “happy” I tried to die.

Then the day came where I knew it was over. I finally got the courage to go. I was so scared, I called my friend who lived an hour away to come get me. We were most of the way back to her place when he called, begging me to come back. Halfway between begging and telling me he was going to destroy my stuff. I panicked and had her take me back, where I swore to her I would leave in the morning. My mothers ex-husband was in town for a softball tournament with my sister, so I knew I had a way to escape. I went back, we fought, we screamed, and it came to the point where he gave in, stormed off and told me to have myself and my stuff out by dawn.

Dawn came, my stepfather arrived, and I started to leave. He grabbed me by my arms and told me I wasn’t leaving. He shoved me into the wall and bear hugged me, screaming at me he wasn’t letting me leave. That I wasn’t allowed to leave. I shoved and screamed for help, hoping my stepfather would hear me. I finally got one arm free and elbowed him as hard as I could in the head. He gave up and went back to screaming and throwing things. He threw my things outside our two story apartment, onto the lawn. He screamed threats at my stepfather who was below, putting my things into my car. I grabbed what I could and ran. I ran and never looked back.

When people noticed we had split, they were so confused. Why did the happy couple just randomly disappear from each other? It caused more questions than I wanted. Than I expected. It was hard. But I’m alive, I’m happy. I will forever be scarred, I still cry about it, I still have moments where I’m scared when I shouldn’t be.

But it gets better because I know one thing – I’m safe.

So this morning, when I heard the familiar screams of mental pain, it hurt. Now no one truly knows what happens behind closed doors, no one knows both sides of the story if only one is present. All I can say is if you are one of those girls or guys that know what it feels like to “love” so much that you are no longer sure if it’s love or hate… You are not alone.

If you need help, please reach out. If it ever escalates to where you are afraid, to where you fear for your life, please do something. Not everyone escapes but you don’t have to be that person.  Get help. Be safe. No one will judge you, no one will ridicule you. I’ve been there, like millions of other women and men… It will be ok.

- Terra | @terracalaway

[dropkickdepression-blog]

post... and delete.

"One of those days I wish I was anyone but myself."

"Why can't I be normal? Why am I such a fuck up?"

"I hate myself so much."

These are all statements that I've posted to a social media platform and within 10 minutes found myself deleting. I started Dropkick Depression to help others who suffer with depression, anxiety, or other mental illness. When I started this, somehow the translation got lost between myself and others where people thought I was healed of my depression and now am someone teaching others how to get over it too.

I'm not.

I still suffer. I still have breakdowns. I still find myself with horrible thoughts. Today, the first statement of hatred posted above was on my Twitter for a mere 3 minutes. Why? The stigma that's been created somehow where I now feel that I can't let people know that I'm still hurting and still suffering because I'm supposed to be the one leading others out of the darkness. I'm scared of being judged. I'm scared of people telling me to get over it. I'm scared of people telling me I'm just trying to get attention. I'm scared people will look at me in a different light. So I post... and delete.

Why am I bringing this up now?

Because I just want others to know, you're not alone. We all have that want to post something negative then delete it out of fear. I'm tired of being scared, but more importantly - I'm tired of being negative. The negativity toward myself has brought me to the lowest of lows. I'm the heaviest I've ever been. I hate myself. I'm frustrated. I feel like everyone else hates me too. All because I'm so negative to myself. So today, I take a pledge to fight the negativity as much as I can. I can't guarantee I'll never be negative, but I guarantee I will try. That's all that anyone can ask of another person, is try.

So to my friends, all of you, please know it's okay. We are all in the same boat. We are all in this together. If you ever find yourself posting self-hatred, take a moment. Remember that you're a wonderful work in progress. Every human in the world is a work in progress. That's the point of living. To continue to evolve. So evolve. Be better today than you were yesterday. And if you stumble, it's ok... Just don't stay down.

- Terra | @terracalaway 

[dropkickdepression-blog]

laughter.

I tend to think that, from the perspective of the general public, it is glaringly obvious that I struggle with depression. My arms are covered in years of self-injury scars, scars that I have no shame of and make no attempt to hide. My left wrist bares an “I’m Fine / Save Me” ambigram tattoo inspired by this article. Most of all, however, I am a funny guy. This isn’t my sole personal opinion; it is the result of constant affirmation from others, words and laughter alike. I see opportunities for humor and I take advantage of them. Hereis some goofy gold from today, infinite thanks to fortune cookies, comically-stereotypical magnets, and same-day thrift store purchases.

So if my response to my friend evoked such a positive reaction, why does comedy figure into my personal image of depression? Why do I expect those who exude those positive reactions to see the darkness that often resides within me?

Perhaps I am a bit jaded, perhaps I have simply seen too many comedians fall at the hands of alcohol, drug abuse, and suicide, but mostly it is the well-documented relationship between comedy and tragedy. It is the dichotomy that has always existed. Comedy can be present in tragedy, and tragedy is commonly present in comedy. The two polar opposites of the emotional spectrum seemingly cannot exist without the other.

Countless articles and endless research has been conducted with the purpose of determining the validity of a causational link between humor and depression. In the meantime there are visible correlational links, things such as self-depreciative humor, the aforementioned abuse and suicide of high-profile comedians, and the high prevalence of humor as a coping mechanism.

This is not a guaranteed standard; there are always outliers in any situation. Many individuals express and even make livings with humor and they do so with focused diligence and good health. Despite the fact that much of my humor and wit does come from negativity within, I personally still have days where my humor is based in positivity. However, it always strikes me when I get asked the inevitable question:

“How can you be depressed? You’re so funny and you make so many people smile!”

Sometimes I reply that my depression is both a gift and a curse, torturing me but giving me perspectives that allow me to reach others in ways some cannot. Sometimes I reply that neither the happiness nor the sadness of others can erase how I am feeling. Sometimes I cannot muster a response at all.

Even with lifelong research, counseling, and a college education in psychology, I generally struggle to have a clear understanding of why I feel the way I do. Some days all that helps is searching elsewhere for affirmation, whether positive or negative. Two years ago Jon Stewart, responsible for countless smiles and laughs both from and with me throughout my lifetime, announced that he was departing The Daily Show after seventeen years because the responsibilities within ultimately lead to depression. Not long before his death, one of my favorite comedians, Greg Giraldo, stated that, in regards to the general populous, “They don’t get that comics are dark tortured souls.” Conan O’Brien has recently come out about his previous struggles and, in the tribute “Give It Up For Greg Giraldo” stated “There’s part of you that’s being sucked into a hole and it’s the fight to get out of it... that is where the comedy comes from.”

My goal for this initial article, and my ultimate cry for help, is to bring awareness to the fact that comedy is not a guaranteed, complete positive. It causes a positive reaction in our bodies, sure. Who doesn’t love that contagious effect known as laughter? Who doesn’t love that endorphin release in the brain that ultimately leads to a more positive personal affect? But while we are reaping the benefits, we must keep in mind how they are being created. We must keep in mind the health of those that are making it possible for us and not be swayed by the façade that funny always equates to healthy. I love to laugh and I love to make others laugh, but it is admittedly disheartening to know that depression can overtake an individual regardless of fame, socioeconomic status, race, sex, gender, or any other factors that differentiate us from one another. We are all susceptible and therefore it is of the utmost importance that we encourage and inspire one another. And, of course, if someone frequently makes you laugh, take a moment to tell them they are appreciated.

Josh - @cawfeemonstir, @wrestlediary

[green-ant]

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Twitter saw it first. @dropkickdepression day is here! Join us for a great cause and watch me team with some pretty cool people. #wrestling #charity #banana (at Old Bridge, New Jersey) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzADm04Amvs/?igshid=ngo2y9lpdtvz