The first one
Hey, you made it!
Here’s a reminder that:
We are in space
No one knows what’s going on
I love you
— Dallas Clayton
Thanks for coming on this ride. Here goes nothin’..
I, Drew Daniel Hall, am someone who is not particularly well - certainly part-time though arguably full-ish time. When Franz Kafka wrote to his fiancé “I am not well; I could have built the Pyramids with the effort it takes me to cling on to life and reason” - my brother, I feel that. I’m not trying to put myself in the GOAT conversation with him but I’m not.. ok. But I am ok. OK?
I hold an impressive resume of diagnoses and disorders bestowed by a crack team of psychiatrists and psychologists. I’ve spent roughly half my years from age 15 to present day 33 in what they term treatment-resistant severe clinical depression with suicidal ideation. Upon rising from depression, I’ll typically experience a hypomanic episode. I’m yet to enter (though not far from) full mania, which is a distinction between Bipolar I and II. Then we have the various addictions culminating in a substance abuse disorder. Oh and ADHD, so I’m told.
It’s been a bit of a strange and confusing human experience. The suffering between my ears has been my life’s greatest challenge to date, and its “solution” became my dominant priority. I’ve been a busy lad, and have been blessed with the support and opportunity to pursue near every imaginable remedy to the madness. That’s what this newsletter will cover - the trials, learnings, and victories of one human navigating a particular kind of suffering while creating and living a life they love - from their perspective.
If Kafka’s quote grabbed you more than my writing, check out his raw and self-revealing expression of his inner life in his 47 page unsent Letter to His Father
My first cry for help came 14 years ago on a warm December evening in Mexico. Not the Christmas gift my parents expected from their drunken, exacerbated son. They witnessed the release of 4 years of pent up confusion, disillusionment, and mental isolation. Until I talked about it with them I thought I was the only one on the planet experiencing some form of rare brain cancer, that turned out to be depression.
A week later I was in a psychiatrist’s office and starting Prozac. Since then, these have been my direct efforts (beyond dialing in sleep, exercise and diet) to address my various psychological eccentricities
Western practitioners:
Various therapy modalities with 5 psychologists: Basic talk therapy, CBT, DBT, IFS, trauma therapy (under Gabor Mate’s model)
Regular support of a primary psychiatrist, with second opinions for diagnoses
12 years of taking every relevant form, brand and combination of psychiatric medication: anti-depressants (SSRIs/SNRIs), mood stabilizers, low-dose anti-psychotics, anti-convulsants and stimulants
Holistic and eastern practitioners:
Doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine: traditional and electroacupuncture, subconscious re-writing and re-programming, herbal remedies
Naturopaths: Organic acid and gut-biome testing with prescribed natural remedies
Reiki and energy work
Sobriety and recovery:
7 years of active and largely-responsible membership of a 12 step fellowship. 7 thorough sets of steps, while incorporating the tools into daily living and maintenance. Regular meeting attendance, service and sponsorship.
Short trial with SMART Recovery.
Psycho-spiritual coaching
Peer support groups (both bipolar and addiction-related)
Guided therapy with ketamine, psilocybin and 5-MeO-DMT
Electroconvulsive therapy
Writing that all out brings me some gratitude. There’s no way I’d be as healthy, or as driven to heal if not for the consistent threat of depression lurking in the shadows. Thanks, depression.
Of course, these efforts haven’t defined or entirely consumed my life. I took my BCom into a cool career as a SaaS Account Executive, working for start-ups out of Vancouver and San Francisco. I’ve nurtured beautiful and meaningful relationships that I cherish. I’ve truly enjoyed my home in Vancouver, Canada. Humbly served my community and my brothers and sisters in recovery. I’ve travelled, backpacked, studied and lived abroad. Loved and lost. Learned and failed. Failed again. Fallen off my bike 4 times. I even singlehandedly won a dodgeball tournament. I’m just another dude walking around in this curious predicament of life.
There have been times I’ve wallowed in self-pity and thought I was different, or terminally unique. I’d say I’m past identifying or victimizing myself with my “mental health”. I don’t know what someone’s reaction would be to spending time in my mind, and vice versa. There’s certainly no true way to compare or validate how extreme our experience is to anothers’, as we can’t yet swap suits. To quote the polarizing Kanye, “I guess we’ll nevah know”. But I do know it’s human, and that we all suffer and have our crosses to bear.
This brings me to why I’m writing this. My north star here is to write and express myself as honestly, authentically, and vulnerably as I can in a constructive manner. For ever I’ve done my best to conceal the madness, to put on a good face and performance when inside I’m screaming. I’m a slow learner but I’ve begrudgingly found that the more open and honest I am with others and with myself, the more I can breathe easy. This stuff festers and grows and pressurizes in the dark. So here’s yet another attempt to transmute that to light.
If you haven’t gathered this yet, I hold no qualification for giving advice. Not a big fan of unsolicited advice anyways, so there won’t be any of that. I am however the world leading expert in Drew, as you are in you. I’m going to lay it all out here and you can decide what to make of it. If it helps anyone - amazing. If no one ever reads it - still cool. I’m called to do it so I’m doing it and I’m sure I’ll feel I contributed and left something on this spinny rock that I can be proud of. Perhaps, just maybe, I’ll get some juicy fulfillment.
How many people this reaches, or how I perceive it’ll be received, will not be of particular concern. Along those lines I’m not committing to a strict time/day release schedule. Once commitment I’ve made to myself though is to write and release if I’m blanketed in depression and have become convinced I can’t string the words together. At times I’ve lacked the courage to show up as I am in life, so showing up for this is an act of self love and healing in that department. Should that be the case, be prepared for a more concise edition, or even a “help, I can’t get up. oh my god everything’s gone wrong I am so fucked” - I think that’d actually be pretty funny.
You’ll find I can have a sense of humour and some levity with the subject. I’ve developed this as a survival mechanism, and a more enjoyable way to deal. This isn’t to understate the seriousness of the matter at the individual and societal levels. Indeed our western world seems to be increasingly afflicted with an epidemic of mental, emotional, and psychological suffering. I know I sure am grateful to have made it to today, to still be alive. I’m grateful for the opportunity to continue to experience life, and for those I love to experience me. Not so grateful when I’m crushingly depressed, but today’s not one of those days.
I hope it’s not one of those days for you too, but if it is, we’re here for it and we gon’ make it thru.. again and again. I see you, and I see the value of your experience. The gauntlet of mine has borne gifts and growth that I just can’t see coming any other way. It’s near impossible to see that when you’re in the proverbial forest fixated on a warped tree, but it’s always been clear as day on the other side. As we know, you can only connect the dots looking backwards. Clarity and freedom await if you just keep hanging in and doing your best, which you’ve done more than you may think or might tell yourself. If you don’t believe any of this, believe that I do. This beautiful mess makes you so real and so human it’s spectacular.
Remembering the Madness
In each newsletter edition I’ll include a story - a little walk down memory lane that is accurate, and true. As mentioned I’ve dealt with hypomania and substance abuse, so these are sure to get a little wild and crazy, but we’ll keep it more wholesome today. Earlier I touched on the time I opened up about my struggles for the first time. This is a hard door to walk through, so let’s dive a little deeper.
It was 2011 - we were on a family Christmas holiday in Cabo with our dear family friends. It was my first year away at university, and my first semester had been a lot of fun. I had been “out of the hole” and free to enjoy and engage in life. My social life had taken a front seat - meeting new people, making close friends (that I still have today, shout out Samantha and Bianca), and partying. By December, that chapter was coming to a close. I was spiralling into depression, again. During exams I began to feel it hovering over my shoulders. My energy started to fade, my interest in people and things dwindled, and the fear ramped up. I began to withdraw, opting out of social engagements and schoolwork to sleep and numb myself with distraction. I’d try to rally - to go for a run or do something productive, but it was too late, and I didn’t have the tools. It took about 5 days from first noticing to capitulating and finding myself once again in “hell on earth”.
By now I’m about two weeks into a depressive episode. I still held the recent memory of being the outgoing, charismatic guy that was a hit on campus. Now - I’m feeling like a shell of who I wanted to be. I’m afraid of interacting with people, and panicked that I need to spend a full week engaging with everyone on the trip. I remember playing pool with the girls (my family friends), and there was a cute gal across the bar watching us. One of the girls points out that she’s been trying to get my attention, shooting smiles and a few hair flips my way. Upon hearing this all I can think is ‘oh shit, I’m going to have to talk to her’. I’m shot through with fear, covered in the weight of expectation that I need to flirt with her to show the girls and myself that I’m a real ladies man. But I’m not - I’m a scared little boy. I finish the game and nervously observe my surroundings while slamming back drink after drink. Finally I’m drunk enough to stumble out of there, and back to the room - avoiding what I thought was the sure humiliation of having to speak with miss bright eyes.
As my inhibitions slip away and raw emotion bubbles to the surface, I get into an argument. It’s burned in my memory, someone says “you’re just a lame person”. When they said those words, I believed them. I believed I lacked any sort of social skills or capability as a young man. Rather than fight back I said “I know, I know I’m fucking lame” and burst into tears. My folks walked in and I cracked open, finally being honest and letting them in to what I’d been experiencing the past four years. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, it’s like my brain shuts off every now and then. I think I’m sick. I think I might be like this forever”. I described the feelings, the thoughts, the mental narratives and horrors that were going through my head. I was so exhausted, so confused. My family listened, with empathy, with a bit of worry, but with clarity. My dad knew exactly what I was talking about as he’d fought similar battles. They held me, they reassured me, and began to arrange professional help for when I got home.
It was a huge relief.
I’ll love and leave you with this
In addition to a story I’ll leave a goodie bag to take home at the end in the form of something interesting I found, or my favourite resource(s) from the week. For today, I’ll leave you with a movie and my favourite joke.
What The Bleep Do We Know - this 2004 documentary blends quantum physics, neuroscience, religion, and spirituality to question how belief and consciousness shape our experience of reality. Took me two sittings to watch, rewatch, and absorb the fascinating information it was hurling out for 2 and a half hours.
Hilarious joke: There are 3 kinds of people in this world:
Those who can count
Those who can’t
Thanks for making it here - it’d be cool if you stuck around and subscribed. If not, God bless you. Whoever you are, wherever you are, I really do love ya.
Yours, Drew.
Love this and love you ❤️