Essay: Blessed with a Curse

Guest post from Philip Halton

A powerful guest post from Philip Halton, creator and editor of goblin Skateboard magazine, on mental health and his journey.

My good friend Mahon recently had a podcast of very personal and heartfelt messaging on loneliness. Within the podcast, he speaks openly of his own problems and those of societies at large, which brought me back to what is 3 years this month from the lowest point of my life. Knowing how difficult these last 12 months have been for everyone, I hope this story may help someone in need that hasn't been able to reach out yet, or may not understand what they're going through.

To cut to the point.

It has been a fucking shit year. For just about everybody in some form or another, it's been a shit year. Still, you'll always have shit years or extended periods of bad luck and a feeling of being down & out. Though usually they're not collectively with the whole world, so at least we're actually in this together in that regard.

My extended down period came at the horizon of the leaving certificate. Having been a daydreamer throughout all of my school years, I approached my final exams intending to get a good grade to make up for all the time staring at a wall thinking of how to do certain skateboarding tricks or scribbling tags in my copybooks. Even though I had genuinely buckled down for a year, I then began to experience something I never have before, something I never even really knew or heard of before. Today the word anxiety is thrown around so often that it's a commonplace to accept everybody has it, which is great for understanding you're not alone. This is something I had unfortunately no idea about as an 18-year-old and thought my mind was caving into a place I would not come out of. I couldn't sit in a classroom for 60 minutes without having to remove myself and hide in a toilet, rubbing my head, wondering why my whole body kept overcoming with a feeling of dread. I experienced what would later be called a panic attack at 4am out of the blue, woken up from my sleep thinking I was dying. This was to be the first of many short breaths & intoxicated feelings from my gut. I thought once the stress of the exam was over, that would be gone.

I was dead wrong. I knew I had messed up the exams, the only thing I could confidently say I done well in was history, but you couldn't stop me from learning that either way. I distinctly recall my maths exam being littered with tags until the 30 minute mandatory seating time was up so I could leave and move on with becoming a construction worker. The year of buckling down and trying to learn failed, I failed my leaving cert, I failed my mam who wanted to see me do well, and as far as society was concerned, I was also a failure. Someone who spent most of their time on a skateboard and had no vision for my future was often seen with disdain from potential employers. I've since learned the true value in skateboarding & its lessons, even if they have not. This compounded my ever-worsening condition; the anxiety had stopped me from going to nightclubs where I once played monthly as a DJ. The imminent feeling of dread was so overwhelming I would often leave the nightclub to walk around the city streets alone at night, where I felt most comfortable, to which I still do today. Only to appear back later when the night was over, explaining my absence with one excuse or another, preeminently ending my spell as a DJ, to say the least.

One time, I took such excursion towards the docks, and I saw somebody standing by the water's edge, realising they were crying. I asked after the man & he told me his three best friends that night had died in a car crash; I consoled him through conversation as best I could. We hugged before he left on his way home, and I never seen him again. I could only hope for the best. I returned to the nightclub with no real way of explaining my absence or the situation that unfolded and had to digest it independently. It didn't occur to me until later that he had been contemplating killing himself, something I never could have imagined until that point. Though with his situation of losing his best pals all in one night, I could sympathise with him. However, it would be several years of further decline in my own mental state until I could really relate to his feelings.

Worries of social status & class as a young person in their late teens & particularly early '20s are often heightened with a complete lack of understanding of the world. Different friends are heading to college courses in different colleges, friend groups are splintering, and not getting into college didn't help my social life as I was resigned to working 6 days a week on a building site. I was convinced I had fucked it. I've yet to experience much more challenging things in this world than a long, bleak winter spent outdoors on minimum wage in Ireland, a literal damp rock with no business protruding the Atlantic sea. Ireland's roman name is Hibernia, meaning" land of never-ending winter," a good enough reason for them to pass the opportunity to take it over. Over the years, my skin has thickened to the cold, though each day that a cold morning comes, I feel for those in tents & shop front's that brace it without choice.

My fourth winter was to prove my breaking point. When my friends were now graduating with good degrees and talking of moving to New York, California, etc., had at this point solidified my negative thinking that I was out of luck. Something had turned the world against me, and I tried desperately not to be seen as a fuck up, though with a constant air of negativity everywhere I went. Two weeks of the most difficult time of my life as the snow came in late February, the beast from the east as it was to be called, I dropped to the couch, unable to move for days. This was the first and most harrowing thing I've ever experienced. It was plain silence, different from the emotion- fuelled dread of anxiety: no feelings, no thoughts, no motivation. Day after day, I was restricted to my bed, couldn't get up for work, and couldn't even look outside—each hour spent doing nothing guaranteed another hour of doing nothing.

I had buckled under pressure from sickness, regret, anxiety, and now a bout of depression— ruined relationships, plans & goals. I will never forget how difficult that short period was, and my sympathy with those that suffer from it will never dissipate.

I picked up the phone and rang my GP out of desperation. Physically I was fine, though mentally split in half. After months of googling what may be wrong with me and how to solve it, I was still left with no clue what I was experiencing. The time spent chasing answers awakened the inner hypochondriac within me. Soon, I diagnosed myself with everything from cancer to schizophrenia. My GP gave me the details for a councillor at my appointment, and I took my first counseling session. I still think today the only reason I was able to escape that pit was a gift from birth in my ability to articulate my thoughts well. I take no responsibility for this as a skill or blessing, other than the small steps I've taken to improve it. I was finally able to express myself to a person I had no ties with, would never see again if I so chose, and the only way it worked so well was that I truly let go and realised the negative thoughts ruminating so viscously in my head, once expressed, became problems that could be overcome.

Through these sessions, I learned three very important distinctions in how we think, feel, and act. Writing can be a godsend, just grabbing a piece of paper and pen with no clear goal other than to write the first things that come to your head that are bothering you. Now that they're on the paper, they are documented and can be neatly listed out. No longer are they doing a 360 in your brain, disappearing like a lighthouses's flash only to return seconds later with a blinding light. Once these problems are jotted down, you have a base to work from.

Talking, particularly to someone who's gone through similar problems and come out the other side or to a professional, will reap huge rewards if you truly let yourself go (to quote hector). Your brain is the equivalent of a high powered steam engine. It needs an exhaust pipe, and your mouth is exactly that. Without blowing off steam, even aimlessly, your fumes will build up, and without knowing how to release them, you'll explode, and no, your phone is not the answer for this discharge. Not allowing for this totally natural expression can lead to fits of rage, anti-social behaviour, or what can in time become more deadly, complete silence.

The third way of communicating with ourselves is in our own heads. This is something that works fine when our lives are going well. You can remember tasks to do in your head without setting reminders. You're not overthinking things or stressing the big & little stuff. Rather you're pushing onwards day to day and often in a routine. However, the flip side to this is if you are in your head with no clear way out, ruminating thoughts, and holding onto anxieties, it is well and truly the worst place to be. I understand why the expression of trying to get someone to talk is used to solve all mental health issues in this country, because it does work, but only if it's done correctly. Relationship nuances will have an effect on what you're willing to say, you may want to express one problem to your mother and another to your friend, depending on the ramifications that conversation may have down the line, this is where a professional can come in to mend the pieces together and allow you to speak freely without guilt.

Back to my own situation, after the negative bout, I decided to take the appointment with a councillor. I had a cold shower for no apparent reason, something I still do today, had a shave, got dressed properly, and went to the meeting, and at 2pm that day, I then followed into work after two weeks of having disappeared, in the cold and rain & I never looked back since. It wasn't all uphill from here. I still had major issues in terms of what I thought I could and could not do. However, I've found that exposing myself to the fears I harboured most was the only effective solution to overcoming them, not becoming less anxious over them per se but acknowledging I was tougher than I gave myself credit for.

Since then, I have used small, daily goals as a way to motivate myself. These range from simple things like brushing my teeth, packing my lunch for the next day, or writing for an hour. Once they're ticked off my list, a sense of achievement is granted, and I feel I've been helpful towards myself that day. The bigger and more long-term goals are kept in a diary; however, there is no point in having something that will take 100 to do's on your to-do list, as this is more of a wish list. Better breaking the tasks down to smaller and smaller things so that they are achievable, then those small tasks complete a big one over time.

By talking to friends and family over the intervening years, I've come to grips with my naivety, thinking I was one of the few that struggled with their mental health. It’s come to my realisation that not one person I've had a deep & meaningful conversation with has gone without a similar or worse struggle. After two years of getting better, stronger & more informed on why these things take place, I've taken many steps towards helping my situation but also those around me.

I started a skateboarding magazine in 2018 with the sole intention of motivating people to get involved in their scene, take photos, write articles, tell old stories, and feel involved in something bigger than themselves. This had rewards beyond what I ever imagined in people coming to me with their own struggles & experiences of grief & joy, openly willing to talk, also of how skateboarding and other hobbies had helped them climb out of a pit by putting them in charge of their own destiny, even if it was just for an hour a day. The power of learning is underestimated in a world where we jump toward short-term gains and follower counts because to become well and truly versed on any given subject it takes massive amounts of effort and commitment. All those little to do's over long periods. I believe what truly gets you to a place of wisdom and contentment is in the act of learning a skill itself, then if you're lucky, being able to get involved in a scene full of like-minded people that want to push their talents together.

From going to a leaving cert failure with no prospects outside of labouring, bound to a couch on the cusp of what may have been my end, I have hit many goals I never would have even considered possible. Frankly, each achievement to me may mean nothing to someone else. Going to bed before 10pm for me is a very difficult thing to do; for others, it's easy. Yet I'm over the moon when I do it. There are skate tricks that I've done that have no real merit that have made me happy beyond belief, and others I've gotten props for, which don't mean much to me. My delighted mam hung a photo of me from the Irish times top 50 of the year, which is nice recognition though ultimately it doesn't mean anything compared to the impact the magazine had on bringing people together, but as a failure in school, it's a welcome gesture.

Take pride in your own achievements, no matter the merit to outsiders, and use them to bolster your confidence for the next ones. It's this positive snowball effect that can turn around a bad path. Searching for glory in your endeavours through social media won't give you much return. The small group of people that give you a boost when you need it are the ones who matter most.

There are millionaires in this world that are miserable and homeless people that are happy & content with life. Don't take the common view of success as money or material. I go to work each day, and a man who sleeps in the stairway of a church will tell me how content he is there and how he wouldn't take a place to stay even if you gave it to him. However true these statements are, I can't say, though they are said with sincerity. Goals & achievements aren't the massive milestones they're often made out to be. They can range from walking more a bit each day, reading a bit more, or going to bed earlier. You have to be your own protagonist. If I listened to those that doubted my abilities, I would certainly have never strayed far from the path, probably continued on down a spiral of negativity. As someone with no experience in magazines, I became my own editor. I never set foot on a boat more than twice before I built my own, I never used a camera before filming and editing a full-length skate video that premiered to 400 people, and if its the last thing I ever do, I will build my own house with my own hands. Though through each process, my skill & ability have been doubted from all corners and naysayers, most of whom don't realise the small comments may be the difference between someone reaching for their goals or not. However, the pay off when things come together is priceless, and there is an overwhelming sense of happiness that you listened to your own voice, even if the goal failed, acknowledge those lessons in the process and use them as fuel for your next move. With that in mind you will make each new challenge easier on yourself through experience.

Not everyone will be given a break. Life can be so cruel and unforgiving that those with the very best intentions get crushed under its weight, and those that don't are the lucky ones. However, it is up to us as a community, a responsibility handed to us from our ancestors, to see those around us excel in whatever it is they choose. There is no benefit to anyone in this country when one of us goes hungry, cold, or depressed. It is in our best interest to get the good out of people to prosper together in whatever direction we proceed. In these lockdowns, I have noticed that people's go-to comforts often return less and less pleasures each time. The junk food, the lye ins & late nights all come at a cost. It is difficult to find pleasure in that which is not challenging. People's obsession with sea swimming comes as no surprise to me. The difficulty of putting yourself in cold water is not enjoyable. Still, the aftermath feeling of achievement is worth the pain. Embrace the difficulty of life because the pleasures are meaningless without it. Much like Oisin in TÍr na NÓg, a life of pleasure and comfort that has no end sounds tempting, but the challenges of life with no guarantee of pleasure is what makes life worth living. That's the heart of the adventure.

I write this today as a remembrance to the man who used to come to our building sites once a day for four years. He walked with calm and contentment, operated like clockwork, and never felt the need for admiration or respect from anyone. He strolled the most ludicrously expensive roads in our city, and I can say this with confidence that he was happier than the vast majority of occupants in those mansions. To old man UCD, may you rest In peace, and this is to your cup of tea & sandwich each night, and the hope that my story may help somebody in need, knowing there is always someone with an open ear near you, however far that may appear at first. I am truly grateful for the years of toil that hounded me as I reflect. I take life at face value, embracing the suffering as well as the joy with a smirk of irony at both. As the years go on, I may find new answers to my wounds, never the less all the worries that held me back have made me propel myself toward embracing far more than I would have otherwise.

I would like to commend my dad for teaching me the important lessons about life, morals & giving what you can to those who need it most. As a man who came from literally nothing to being able to provide for his family through sheer strength & hard work on building sites, he has been a role model I would point to beyond anyone else in the world, alongside my mother & sister's good hearts and charitable nature that has made me proud at every turn. Without that type of support, my struggle would have been far more treacherous.