What the Juice WRLD documentary teaches us about addiction and mental health

"Okay, I get it, I understand/ There's people here to hold my hand, But what happens when, happens when, I can't comprehend someone holding my hand?"

-Juice Wrld, 'Feel Alone' 

Watching the Juice WRLD documentary 'Into the Abyss' this week, I feel so many mixed emotions on the topics of addiction and mental health. I'm seeing a wide range of opinions online about whether the people around him could have or should have done more, if they were enabling him, or if maybe the outcome of his death is what he had hoped for. 

After my struggles with mental health left me flirting with death in the past, I have some thoughts of my own.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor or mental health professional, these are thoughts I have come to as a result of my own lived experience.

Addiction is complicated

Addiction is a complicated disease, and many people are still learning how to understand it. For loved ones of those suffering, it can be hard to know what to do, because what worked for one person, might not work for another. Everyone's "bottom" is different, the circumstance that leads them to either asking for, or accepting help, and beginning on their recovery journey. Knowing there's not a one-size-fits-all approach to recovery, loving someone suffering can be challenging. You want to help them more than you want anything in life, you wish for nothing, apart from that person getting clean. But you can't want it for someone. You cannot love someone out of addiction. Unfortunately, it is bigger than that. If we were able to love people out of addiction, it might not be the problem it is. 

Recovery is not one-size-fits all

So what do you do if you can't love them through it? Do you leave? Maybe. If that would is necessary for your mental health and you feel that by staying in the person's life you are enabling them, or continuing to allow them to be addicted, then maybe it's an option to consider. 

If you try to force someone into recovery for anything: addiction, mental health issues, etc., it won't last long term. That person has to want it for themselves and be ready to accept help and commit to the process. That person has to commit that if, and when they mess up, because they will, recovery is not perfect and not easy, that they will not allow that slip to let them backslide, but they will dust themselves off and continue trying to do better. In AA, they say progress not perfection for a reason.

I went into treatment for my depression and severe anorexia in late September 2016. I absolutely was not ready to recover. I was in emotional turmoil, and convinced myself that my illnesses were keeping me safe. I was not ready for the help. I was forced into it, so it didn't stick. I continued sending back meals, not sticking with my treatment plan, and continued losing weight. My final semester of college was on the line if I couldn't keep up with my schoolwork, and I was unable to attend work, due to being hospitalized. For some people, that would be bottom. Not being able to walk around campus, or go out for drinks with your friends on your 21st birthday, that would be bottom. 

But it wasn't for me.

Depression, anxiety, other mental illnesses or addiction don't discriminate

Watching the Juice WRLD documentary, if people weren't listening closely to his lyrics and the messages he shared with his fans, one might think he was happy. He was always smiling, laughing, and hanging out with his friends. He was close with his mom, had a girlfriend, and he had all the money in the world at 19-years-old. 

But he wrote: "You can see the pain in my laugh/ Demons comin' back from the past/ Feelin' like I'm bought to relapse/ Voices in my head/ All I can hear them say is 'everybody wants me dead'/ I'm already dead/ - I've been dead for years"

It broke my heart to hear him say he wrote the lyrics that he did, in order to have conversations with his friends about what he was saying.

A lot of people don't understand mental illness/addiction

I saw someone on Twitter say, "haven't you ever loved someone with addiction?" Like the person receiving that question should be ashamed they didn't have their level of knowledge on addiction. It's hard, if not impossible, to understand something you've never experienced first-hand, either yourself, or loving someone who has had the experience, and witnessing it through them. 

I hope you, or someone you know and love didn't experience this first hand. I wish no one had to. 

But, I think it's wrong to shame people who don't intrinsically have that knowledge. If we're hoping that the people who aren't familiar with addiction or mental illness are compassionate, we have to meet them with compassion as well.

Having open conversations that start with, "This is what I've experienced..." "This is what I witnessed..." or "This is what I've learned" can go a long way in helping people understand who have not experienced it themselves.

I always try to speak as openly as I can about what I go through with my depression, because I want people to understand. I want people to understand how they can best help me, and anyone else who might be going through the same things. 

This, I understand is not a comfortable approach for every person, so that's why I do it. 

For example, I've shared: I have great friends, I am close with my mom and my sister, but sometimes when I'm experiencing a bout of depression, it is impossible for me to feel that love is real, that it is there. Depression convinces me I am alone.

Conversation is powerful

The only way, I believe to understand is to have conversations. It makes me so incredibly happy to see a widespread conversation around mental health and addiction being had. Conversations help facilitate understanding, eliminate shame or taboo, and help those suffering feel supported and safe. 

I will never forget feeling so ashamed that I was going to therapy while I was in college. I would lie to my friends about where I was going, say I had a doctor's appointment, and not specify any further. The first time a friend told me he also went to therapy, I immediately felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders and felt more connected to him. I was surprised through conversation to learn just how common it was among my friend group. I thought, why hadn't we talked about this sooner?

Suffering in silence is incredibly lonely and isolating. Conversations about how someone is feeling, the thoughts that are running through their head, and if you have an experience that makes them feel not alone that you can share, can save lives.

Getting help is brave

If you think you need help, if you think you could benefit from any kind of support or service, you should. Regardless of whether or not you're insured, there are resources available to you either free or low cost. Some churches offer support groups, there is AA, NA, there are other support groups for grief, eating disorder recovery, etc. Organizations like the National Alliance on Mental Illness (find your local chapter) can help you pinpoint resources offered in your community that can best help you.

Getting help is scary. At first. 

When I entered treatment, I felt like a lost cause. I had lost half my bodyweight and my organs were shutting down. I was so depressed, I didn't care if I lived or died. How could I possibly recovery? I thought to myself. I am too far gone, I might as well give up. 

Recovering is hard.

There will be times you will mess up. Probably many times. You are human. Do not let that completely derail your willingness and commitment to trying. It will be emotional. You will probably encounter emotions you've been trying very hard not to feel, or you will have memories you have tried very hard to suppress. 

There will be times when you'll be angry, upset, and want to quit. 

Don't.

Recovery is worth it.

When I was in treatment, I heard a girl, who was also suffering from an eating disorder say that she wanted to recover so she could ride horses again. 

Why am I here? I thought. So I can go home. I told my doctors, knowing full well, in the mindset I was in, if I were to go home, I would relapse.

What are your goals they asked me, it can't be go home.

I wanted to play sports on a team again. I wanted to be able to wear jeans and have them fit me like a woman, not a child. I wanted to be able to go on dates, and hangout with my friends. I wanted to experience life.

What's your why? Why are you here?

If you or someone you love needs help, the national help line for the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration is 1-800-622-4357

The National Suicide Prevention Line is 1-800-273-8255

"You don't look depressed"

"You don't look depressed, you always look so happy!" "What do you have to be depressed about?" "You're too young/pretty (insert other offensive adjective here) to be depressed"

"Yeah, but you don't look depressed."

Well, thank you, it's because I'm dead inside most of the time. 

I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder as a child. Although it's something I talk very openly about, I still feel some shame in the diagnosis. I know I am extremely privileged, and realistically, there is nothing for me to be depressed about. I am close with my family, I have great friends, I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food on the table. I am able-bodied and healthy for the most part. I was fortunate enough to attend and graduate college and secure a full-time job in the industry I love. I have a pet. I am able to pay my bills and have a little extra left over each month to buy random crap on Amazon as fleeting thoughts pop into my head. 

With all that being said, this is not a brag. I fully acknowledge that I have no reason to be depressed. 

And yet, here I am. 

I've struggled since I was seven years old and still struggle today as a 25-year-old woman. Sometimes between therapy sessions, I feel so overwhelmingly sad that I feel like I may have to phone a friend to come over with an extra large spatula to scrape me up out of my bed to start the day. And there's no reason for it other than I'm just fucking sad and I don't know why. 

Being someone who talks so openly about my struggles, sometimes it feels extra difficult for me to tell someone when I'm in the headspace of feeling depressed. Sometimes more often than not, I don't know. I sleep more, I forget to brush my teeth or eat dinner, and I quit working out cold turkey. In the moment I'm not able to equate it to depression. I know these things will make me feel "good", but depression makes it impossible to do them. 

Sure, I could go for a run, OR I could take a nap. Sure, I could journal, OR I can see how many days in a row I can wear the same pajamas. Sure, I could eat a healthy meal and get sunshine, or I could not open the blinds all day and forget when the last time I'd eaten was. 

Sometimes it feels hard for me to admit when I'm struggling, because I feel like someone will react by rolling their eyes and saying, "Oh this again!?" 

Or worse, asking "why?"

"I'm really depressed today," I say, hoping to feel some kind of solace from the person I'm talking to.

"Why?" they'll ask, in genuine or feigned sympathy, who really knows.

"Uhh, well, because I have d e p r e s s i o n," I think, "So, likely, you know, it's that. The chemical imbalance is well, unbalanced as of right this second." 

It feels frustrating when someone asks why when you say you're feeling depressed or anxious, because more often than not, there's no reason for it. 

When someone has a migraine, you don’t ask why? You offer Advil, or suggest some rest, if someone has a stomachache, you suggest tea or ginger, not "Ugh, why do you have diarrhea again?!" "You're taking Tums again?!" 

It happens. 

When someone says they’re feeling depressed or anxious, let's stop asking "why", because it's not helpful. We need to retrain or brain and reframe our perspective of how we talk to people suffering with mental health issues. Instead, let’s try asking “What can I do?” “How can I help?” 

Asking a person who struggles with anxiety or depression “why” puts added pressure on them when they’ve already displayed courage by opening up and telling someone they are struggling, or having a rough day. Asking “why” can potentially make them feel ashamed, or like they have been a bother and shouldn’t have opened up at all. 

Instead, let’s say “I’m sorry you’re feeling that way, is there anything I can do to help?”

 If it’s the first time someone is opening up to you about their struggles, you can say, “Thank you for trusting me enough to confide in me, what would be the most helpful thing from me right now?” 

Each person is different, sometimes they might need you to just listen and to do so without judgment. Listen without questioning their feelings or trying to offer a solution. Listen and be a friend. Sometimes just knowing someone is there helps to relieve a lot of weight off someone’s shoulders. 

Maybe the person needs space and they’re opening up to you to tell you that if they haven’t been the best communicator lately, it has nothing to do with you. Maybe the person has been going through a bout of depression and for them, getting up in the morning and brushing their hair and their teeth is a win. 

They’re asking for patience. Offer it and reassure them the door will be open whenever they’re ready to be in touch again or if they need an ear. This will help take the pressure off them of feeling like they have to keep up with everyone in their contacts list and/or on social media, or they feel like “a bad friend,” when in reality, they’re struggling just to get out of bed in the morning and get through their day amid the haze. 

Mental health is just like physical health. You need to take care of it, or you will not feel well.

If someone is feeling depressed or anxious or has a stomachache or a migraine, it needs to be addressed, regardless of how it's done.

I've learned firsthand that when you fail to address your mental health, you can become physically ill. Sometimes we need a little help or to know someone cares about us enough to ensure we're taking proper care of ourselves.

Let's start by dropping the "why" and asking "how" how can I help? What do you need from me? What can I do? 

Listen to the answer and honor it, honor what the person says without judgment.

Don't let suffering be in vain

    “There are far too many silent sufferers.  Not because they don't yearn to reach out, but because they've tried and found no one who cares.” -Richelle E. Goodrich

*disclaimer: my posts are solely based on my own personal experience and are not intended to substitute professional help. I am in no way implying addiction or any disorder can be treated without professional guidance. I simply intend to raise awareness about creating and open dialogue and sharing resources to help others 

 I know this post will likely be unpopular or may come across as insensitive, but I've watched it far too many times to not comment on it.

When I was suffering with severe anorexia and depression, I questioned over and over, "what does this mean?" There has to be a reason for my suffering.

"God doesn't give you anything you can't handle," I was told over and over ad nauseum, which frustrated me.

Clearly, I cannot handle this, I thought to myself. I am suffering so much I am literally dying more and more by the day.

My spirit went first, which to me was the hardest to handle, as someone who is grounded in faith. Then  my physical body quickly deteriorated thereafter as a result of the sadness.  

"You have a voice" the people close to me told me. "That is the purpose. You have to share your story."

As a senior in college, that was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, was potentially call attention to myself. I don't think I'm special in any sense, I didn't feel like I had achieved any great feat, and I definitely didn't want sympathy. 

I knew once I left treatment, I could go back to my life of school and work and hanging out with my friends, and pretend like nothing happened and I was totally fine, or I could give meaning to my suffering, and maybe in the process help other families.

I could not pretend I was just fine, because I wasn't. My family wasn't.

My family walked on eggshells for two years after I was discharged from the hospital, treating every word they said to me, every hug as if I was just a second away from folding into myself and disappearing. 

I could not pretend everything was fine, because I'd be lying. 

I knew there was a reason for my suffering. 

My mom cried many nights when I was in the hospital, unable to relate to what I was going through. 

She didn't understand why her daughter, who had always loved baked ziti and fought with her sister over a bag of Dorito's could not "just eat". She did not understand what "reason" I had to be depressed; I had a job, I was attending a private university on scholarship, I had friends and family, I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food available to me, if only I would "just eat". 

There were little resources for her to go to, to try to understand depression and eating disorders. People weren't talking about their experiences with raw honesty. 

No one had said that even if you have health insurance, you might be denied treatment because you weren't "sick enough." And then once they viewed you as "sick enough," you could be "too sick" for treatment, and they would view you as a liability in case God forbid you died in their care. This is a real scenario my family was told. 

I was determined from that point on, if anyone had any questions about depression or eating disorders, I would answer them, whether that be about treatment itself, how to access it or my experience it, I would never be offended by a question, instead grateful that it was asked and someone was seeking information. I lived it, I could tell them first-hand. For anyone who doesn't know what depression or eating disorders are, what happens when you experience it, I want them to ask, because if they encounter someone else who is suffering, I want them to have the knowledge to help them, and maybe even 1/10 of them understand in that moment. 

Educating people about mental health and eating disorders feels like it has become my life purpose. Not by choice, but out of a sense of obligation. I know too much not to share it. I'm able to potentially help families, so why would I not? Out of pride? Have you met me....ever? Have you read anything I've written about myself... ever? 

Maybe that's why I don't understand the people who choose to be silent. If you've lost someone as a result of mental health, addiction, or anything else, why are you not using your free time to raise awareness? As someone with first-hand experience, you have an opportunity to educate others about mental health or addiction to try to help them understand what their loved one is experiencing, and raise awareness about resources offered for people who might be suffering. You have the opportunity to make it known that you're a compassionate ear for people, that speaking to you is safe. You understand. 

Maybe not everyone wants this opportunity or responsibility, but you have to acknowledge that you have it. For the person you loved. 

An artist I love so much passed away last year as a result of addiction. The entire time he was alive, he always openly spoke about addiction and depression and anxiety. He had a platform, he knew it, and used it. 

After he died, his mom launched a foundation in his honor to raise awareness and help families connect with resources for mental health care and addiction treatment. However, the "closest" to him his manager, his "fiance" were silent, never linking to the mother's foundation or linking to other helpful resources. Instead, they often opted to use their large platform to post self-serving materials, ads and links that would make them money. Very rarely, if ever did they talk about addiction or mental health, or link their followers to resources to help others who might be experiencing something similar as their loved one had. 

I understand everyone grieves differently, but if you're able to post an ad, you're able to link a resource to an organization to help someone. That's not revealing anything personal about your situation, but you never know who might be scrolling on your page and need that information. That information could save their life. 

If you loved someone and lost them to something like that, why would you not want to help other families escape a similar fate if you could?

Don't you wish someone had been able to share something with your loved one that might have been able to connect with them?

We need to talk openly about these things, because there is still a wide stigma about doing so. Perpetuating that stigma by silence only ensures that people who need help and could benefit from it, may feel like they cannot do so. This is damaging not only to the sufferer, but their wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, etc. 

Even if you have 100 followers, you have a responsibility. Of those 100 people, you don't know who may be suffering and can benefit from a resource or hearing your personal experience, if you feel comfortable and are ready to share. 

Here are some resources that helped me and my family: 

National Alliance on Mental Health (has local chapters, search your state/city, some chapters offer support groups online or via phone, and other localized resources)

National Eating Disorder Association