Talk. About. Mental. Health.

LP

Yesterday, the news of Chester Bennington’s suicide stormed social media, taking the breath of all rock and metal fans. Chester Bennington was the face of a band that influenced so many people, in many ways. Musical interests were formed from Linkin Park; thousands of people playing music together inspired by their music. Chester Bennington’s voice was heard all over the world, and for many, was the voice of reason and rationale. He was a creator, a motivator and damn hell of a person. Reading about suicides always sends a chill up my spine, but the news of Bennington really hit me.

A lot of the conversations I had yesterday about his death was met with disbelief. People telling me to stop joking, people telling me I was sick. If that doesn’t say how unexpected Chester’s death was, then I don’t know what will.

CBCC

Where ever it came from; whether it was a lurking thought in the back of his head all these years, or something in recent weeks triggered him, Chester battled with a lot of lifetime trauma. He was previously a very open man about his troubles, revealing a history of sexual abuse and substance abuse. In his lyrics, there were deep emotion, passion, angst and struggle. Linkin Park headed in different directions, experimenting with their music like a hobby. The whole band deserved respect for that, and with their ever-growing fan base since their 2000 release of Hybrid Theory, Linkin Park showed no signs of stopping.

That’s what makes this whole thing unexpected.

That’s what makes the news of Bennington so hard swallow.

Mental health is an ongoing battle, and those who have suffered can tell you how easy it is to slip back in to old habits. Chester Bennington may have opened up about his past troubles, but we didn’t hear about how low he was feeling now. We knew that the death of his close friend, Chris Cornell of Soundgarden, hit Chester hard. We just didn’t know how hard. Dealing with mental health is in no way easy, and I guess it might just be even harder when the spotlight is shining upon you. Fighting to be the person that the media portray you to be. It’s okay not to be okay – who ever you are. There are systems; real people there to support you and help you through your times of trouble. No problem is too big or too small. Sometimes all you need to hear is a voice that isn’t whispering in your ears, but talking to you. There are people who have dealt, and continue to deal with the haunting cloud of depression. I guess what I’m trying to say, and as cliche as it may be, you are not alone. You are never alone. It’s scary to put yourself out there, I understand. It’s scary to make the first move, I get it. It’s scary to put all your feelings, all your emotions on the line with only the slightest bit of hope that someone’s there to read them. I get that. We all get that. And that’s why we’re here. I don’t know who “we” are, but I know there’s a million people in this world willing to take time out of their day to make sure there’s ears for someone to speak into. You will not suffer alone – and I urge you, in every way I possibly can, to reach out.

samaritans

Please, please, please, if you’re feeling down and alone, take a look at these sites and reach out:

SANE | Gofal Cymru | CALM

There’s a list of mental health helplines listed on the NHS site that you can find here.

Alternatively, I’m always available to be contacted, and I’ll always be here.

Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

 

Stay safe, and strive for the happiness you deserve. Peacexo

 

real life

“Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend.”[short]

I was fourteen; you were sixteen when it happened. I had known you for two years after living in the same street since, well, forever. I don’t remember you moving in or actually being introduced to you, we just kind of passed each other and the older I got, the more pleasentries we would share. It was only when you stumbled home from a house party in the middle of summer that you found me hiding up on the concrete steps with tears in my eyes. I think you were too scared to go home too, which is why you stopped to talk. And I needed someone to talk to, which is why I actually spoke to you. You were the stranger I needed to confide in; you gave me the perspective that I needed. You eventually showed me the outlet that I needed and I’ll never believe the people that told me you were a bad influence, because without you, I wouldn’t have made it.

We started speaking more. Bumping into each other more. We stopped the pleasentries and moved into conversation. We compared scars and compared our new bruises over energy drinks and vodka shots. We played music on what would now be considered an ancient brick phone and shared memories that only we could make. Because eventually we became a we. An us. Not in the sense of a relationship, but we became inseperable. School would finish and we would ride our bikes up to the yard where I kept my pony and we would sit in the stable in silence, away from the world for hours until we rode back, shared your last cigarette and said our goodbyes. I’d stand in the doorway and watch you until you faded into darkness before I ascended to my own room with the feeling that things may just get better as long as I had you fighting the world with me.

It was a Thursday when it happened. I hadn’t seen you in the street or online for two days, but that didn’t worry me. It was summer and I knew you had people to see and things to do, the same as myself. But it was the third night after coming home from the stables did I need you. I wanted to talk to you. To tell you that things felt bad inside my head, to have that all important punch in the arm and a badly rolled cigarette to make me feel like there was some kind of purpose for me in this world. After a quick bath, something to eat and a cup of tea, I left and walked down the road to your door. That’s when I knew. Your window wasn’t open and the curtains were drawn. There was no light. Your mother answering it only confirmed my worse nightmares as she took me into her arms and told me. Told me what you had done the night before. Told me how you left this world with a rope around your neck and a note under your feet.

*unfinished*

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