“John, are you driving?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to pull over?”

“No, mom.” I just want to drive into this red truck driving 60 mph towards me.

I wish I could say the reason I didn’t do it was out of self-love, but the truth is I didn’t act on it because I didn’t want to cause anybody anymore pain. Shocking opening? Well it’s real.

It’s also only part of the story. Most of you probably don’t know what it’s like to walk on earth feeling like you’d already written your own tombstone.

Well, I do. That’s happened to me twice in my life.

The most serious one was only a couple months ago.

Depression. Anxiety. Mental illness.

If these are feelings you understand, please read on.

If these are feelings you couldn’t feel less connected to, please read on.

Read on because this is a conversation for all of society.

With the World Health Organization estimating that over 121 million people worldwide suffer from some form of depression, you’re most likely more connected than you think. There’s a good chance you’ve got a friend right now going through living hell.

No matter how blessed you feel your life has been realize that depression doesn’t discriminate. It can easily possess you. It’s consumed some of the most successful people in the world right now like Dwayne Johnson, Michael Phelps, Ellen DeGeneres, Chris Evans, Kristen Bell, Jared Padalecki, and NF. If people of that stature and fame can share their story, there’s no reason I should hide from sharing my story with the world. And with athletes like the Rock, Michael Phelps, and Kevin Love leading the inspiring charge for men to talk about their mental health struggles, I’m not scared of anything on the outside. It’s the inside that keeps me up at night.

The hard truth is depression kills. Thankfully, however, I remain as a living representation of that not always being the case.

Ariana Grande says or sings that “almost is never enough”. Motivational speakers preach it. Yeah? Well, almost kept me breathing. Almost is what separates me from Robin Williams, Kurt Cobain, and Ernest Hemingway. There were days when I would set a timer to just get through it all hour by hour. Almost didn’t. Almost. Almost was my everything. Almost is my existence.

For so long I wondered how people like Robin Williams could get so low to do the unthinkable. While I’d dealt with mental health related issues before, I always believed like Shawn Mendez that “it isn’t in my blood”.

Then Tuesday night hit like a wrecking ball. Suddenly, it’s like I’d had a blood transfusion because it’s all I wanted.

Tuesday was a quiet day in the outside world, but utter pandemonium in my head. I was driving under depression on my way home from a comedy open mic when I had an emotional breakdown venting to my mom on the phone. Recent events in my life had left me feeling utterly hopeless. It was like the ceiling in my life that I grew up thinking was “sky’s the limit” had now caved in and was hitting me on the head.

It was during phone calls with my mom and aunt while I drove an hour home that I realized just how broken I was. I was absolutely terrified and for once I could no longer protect me.

During those conversations I realized I no longer knew who I was. I’d never been here before. Rock-bottom.

But according to Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, rock-bottom is an encouraging and fortunate position to be in. If you can’t go any further down, then the only way you can go is up.

For now though, I still had a little further down to go before I would truly reach rock-bottom.

I remember my aunt telling me to promise her that if it got any worse, I’d call someone or go to the hospital. A humbling promise I’ve found myself make a couple times in the past two months. At the time though, it was a promise I wasn’t sure if I could keep even though I assured her otherwise. Regardless I was going to be with myself for the rest of the night. The most dangerous person I knew right then. So dangerous I questioned how much I knew him.

Then my aunt hung up.

After several minutes of silence in the car, I got out.

I went inside and I started making food because I realized I hadn’t eaten in several hours.

The feelings I felt were starting to feel irreparable and I still needed to talk about it.

So, I texted a friend. One of only four people in my life who knew some of what had been going on in my head recently.

“I think I’m gonna call the hotline number. I’ve talked to my mom and my aunt tonight but it’s not enough. Idk why”

An alarming text to any recipient, but nonetheless I decided to try eating as I prepared to take Logic’s advice.

I didn’t remotely expect to hear back from her….

Phone rings

Call rejected

As if it were a reflex, I jumped up from the dining table and started walking outside.

Oh My God, this is where I’m at.

I felt the extremes of emotion and no emotion simultaneously in one of the weirdest moments of my life.

Tunnel vision as I walked out the front door.

I looked.

I looked for some permanent escape.

Car. Gun. Something. Anything.

It was the only thought in my head for two minutes.

When I found nothing, I yelled at the sky using all of the emotion/emotionless concoction I could muster.

Back inside I went like nothing happened.

That did not just happen…

A couple fraternity brothers had seen me dramatically leave and chucklingly asked if I was good.

“Yeah, everything is good!”

With a manufactured smile on my face I went to where I’d slammed my phone down on the table in my dramatic exit.

Three missed calls. And a text message.

My friend was still trying to reach me.

“Are you ok?”

And if you wanted to know how I felt in that moment, just look at the message I replied with.

“I’ll call back soon Hurting”

I was in an unimaginable amount of pain and even though I wanted to talk to someone…. I also didn’t.

A couple more texts from her popped up on my phone like “Please John” and “Just let me know you’re ok”.

I just couldn’t.

And so, for several minutes I left those texts unanswered. I had to keep her in the dark.

How could I tell her things are okay when they’re clearly not? How could I update her on my situation when I don’t truly know what’s going on with me?

I feared she wouldn’t understand. I felt insane.

I took my plate of food to my room and tried eating there.

When I realized I couldn’t eat, I called the friend and we talked for nearly an hour before I finished the night talking to a group of fraternity brothers in my room.

I finished my night feeling less alone in my fight thankfully.

Two days later I was at a bible study and I remember it being very difficult hearing another friend say how they pictured me when the question was raised of who a strong person in their faith was.

Is this a joke? You’re calling me someone unshakeable? He knows who he’s talking to, right?

I’d found somebody who didn’t know about the last few days.

But he’s right and he’s not the first person to mention that to me in my life. I’ve always used “perseverant” to describe myself. That was until something like this happens and I’m left questioning that all.

I even remember that whole week walking around like it would just take hearing a few words from someone I remotely respected to push me over the edge.

Well, he’s still right. He’s right not because of Tuesday, April 9th. He’s right because of one of the most pivotal days in my life. Wednesday, April 10th. Why is that day more important than April 9th?

That’s the day I said the most powerful words in the English language.

I. Need. Help.

Wednesday morning, I woke up with two crucial decisions. The first was get out of bed. Face the day. Face what had turned into my biggest fear.

Anybody who has gone through clinical depression would understand if I chose to stay in bed.

But I got up out of bed. A major step for the state I was in. But I knew I couldn’t just get up out of bed like any normal day. Because deep down I knew it wasn’t. I couldn’t truly act like yesterday didn’t happen no matter how much I wanted to. It would’ve been much easier to brush it off and pretend like it didn’t happen. If it were to get to a point as bad as last night, I’ll deal with it then. I have my feelings under control now.

Deep down I knew these feelings would become returning guests in my head.

I had to tell people the truth.

I had to even though it’d be much easier to continue to tell people lies like “everything is okay”.

What good does that do me though?

Don’t underestimate the power of truth.

Dr. Jordan Peterson says, “life without truth is Hell” and “the truth will set you free”.

One more time.

The truth will set you free.

That was a gigantic sigh of relief for a guy who felt like he hadn’t even told his God the truth.

I was fighting this alone to a fault.

I wasn’t scared of you finding out…. But I was terrified of me not letting you find out.

That startling thought was the deciding factor.

With voices yelling in my head, I started telling people about the inner demons I was fighting and how I was now openly seeking help.

My phone was blowing up with love and support.

The outpouring of love and support was there but I couldn’t process it.

The screaming voices in my head were deafening to it all.

In fact, they were louder than ever before.

My depression screams loudest when I fight it.

It’s not enough. You should’ve fought this on your own. Don’t drag people into your depressing life. People think you’re insane.

Insane? What’s insane is seeing the disconnect between men and women’s reaction to mental health.

One of the things I tried to do to combat my depression was watching empowering spoken word videos to lift me up.

I first watched an old spoken word video on depression I made a few years ago.

My own video fell on my own deaf ears.

Then I came across Jon Jorgenson’s viral videos called “Who You Are: A Message to All Men” and “Who You Are: A Message to All Women”.

These were videos I’d watched before, but this time I noticed the littlest thing while watching and it turned out to be the biggest.

The views.

The version for women had 8.9 million views.

The version for men? Just 2.2 million views.

These videos were uploaded just days apart from one another and yet the version for women had almost 7 million more views than the version for men.

How could there be that big of a disparity? Why would so many more women need to watch this than men?

The question lingered in my head unanswered for a few days until it clicked shortly after openly expressing my struggles for the first time.

It was the text messages I got from a few guys talking about their similar experiences with depression that made it all click.

They talked about how they internalized it in efforts to not seem “weak” or “unmanly”. They all agreed the turning point for them was when they made the brave decision to talk about it.

Men are too scared to reach out because there’s a stigma behind mental health.

One of the biggest fears I have right now is guys not getting the help they need because their hand has been forced into hiding behind some stigma.

Like other guys I hid behind this same stigma with the same fears.

Things changed though when I started losing my fight.

What do the great male athletes men look up to do when they’re losing?

They fight back harder. That’s what strong people do.

And truthfully that’s what men do.

Why should anyone’s mental health fight be treated differently?

I will tell you from experience there’s profound strength in telling your story and opening up.

Any fear you feel is vulnerability.

Vulnerability can be a strength if you don’t let it take you.

I’ve embraced vulnerability and I’ve NEVER felt more manly than I do right now writing my story.

I write to fight.

Every word I write sends a powerful statement to my depression.

I am here to fight you.

I will win.

I am not alone in my fight.

And if anybody tries telling you you’re “weak” or “unmanly” for talking or writing about how you feel, just look at guys like the Rock and Captain America who’ve spoken up. Are they weak? Unmanly?

No, real men address their problems. They get the help they need. They don’t run away or hide from their problems.

They confront them and they fight.

Sharing your story could be the most important thing you do. It was for Kevin Love and now me.

“Step one you say we need to talk.”

It’s the first line in the Fray’s song “How to Save a Life”.

So, grab a chair. Let’s talk.

And if we have to run to Menards to buy more chairs, we will. Because this conversation is too important for anybody to sit out on.

Let’s have the conversation we’ve internalized for far too long. Let’s have the conversation I still don’t even feel good enough to be apart of. But that’s why we’re having it. Whether you feel on cloud-9 or like you did hit rock-bottom, come as you are. Whether mental health is a struggle you’ve personally lived with or it’s a struggle you’ve only witnessed someone else live with, come as you are. Come with no fears of breaking the baggage scale.

Come realizing your fight is society’s fight.

Mental health isn’t simply your problem; it’s society’s.

We have a mental health epidemic going on in society right now.

It’s happening everywhere.

And the alarms have been going off.

Wake up.

For far too long the alarms have been falling on deaf ears.

Now I fully realize that if this is truly important to me, my contributions can’t stop at joining the chat, saying a few things, encouraging you to speak up, and then just leaving the chat.

No, I’ve gotta listen and seek to better understand your story.

And that’s something we could all do better.

Society cannot afford for this group chat to be muted.

I realize it may be uncomfortable to read my story. Good. I hope you’re uncomfortable reading this because I’m uncomfortable writing my story. We’re uncomfortable because mental health is such a terrifying thing with a stigma attached to it. It’s a stigma that makes people feel more alone and trapped in their mental health fights.

While motivational speakers may have gotten “almost” wrong they did get “uncomfortable” right. Being uncomfortable is good because it inspires change. It pushes us to grow.

There’s a lot of room for growth for us all when it comes to mental health.

You can probably tell how fired up this issue makes me.

Wouldn’t you be if you largely overlooked an issue until it almost took you?

I wish I could say that writing this brings back terrible memories from a rough patch in my life, but the truth is I haven’t left that spot.

This journey has changed me though. It’s supposed to change you. The word “humbling” comes to mind when I even begin to try to articulate my journey with depression. I hope one day my mental health journey leads me to a place where I can fully appreciate the joys of life and even teach them to others, but I’m constantly reminded of how far away I am from reaching that. I’m reminded by how my depression has gotten me to enjoy the neutral moments of life more than I should.

Like so many people whether they openly express it or not depression is something I still live with.

That’s the key.

Living with it.

But I fight. Everyday.

It’s a battle I fight when I wake up in the morning and when I go to bed at night.

It’s a fight I shouldn’t have to fight for another 60+ years.

It’s the fight for life.

This fight is one of the toughest fights I’ll ever fight in my life.

So if it isn’t clear already, don’t look at me for all the answers. I’m just now starting to answer the layered question “Who is John Lane?”

We should look to each other for them.

In the words of the great Jon Bellion, now you know about my all-time low.

And in my experience, that’s half the battle.

P.S. If anybody knows how to add 7.7 billion people to a group chat, please let me know.

#WriteToFight