Happy Before I’m 30: Out of the Woods

Jamie Carbone
Aug 22, 2017 · 4 min read

It has been 78 days since my complete and utter mental breakdown. It has been 78 days since I messaged a close friend and told them I was worried I would commit self-harm. It has been 78 days since I lost my mind in a Potbelly’s sandwich shop and made a small amount of people very uncomfortable.

So much has happened since, so much continues to happen. The Jamie from 78 days ago does not feel like he was ever me. He feels like a child that I had to deal with in the heat of the moment, my lowest of the low, a part of myself that I didn’t know existed and I honestly hope I never encounter again. He’s still here though, or at least elements of him, forever a part of me so that I can learn from him, hopefully keep those mistakes from repeating, a learning exercise that I wish every day hadn’t been something I needed to go through at the time.

I see two different therapists now. I see them weekly, which I think will change soon, but they have made me more resilient and for that I am appreciative. I quit my 9-to-5 job, seeing it as an unnecessary stressor, and found other forms of income, part-time work, focus groups, comedy. Comedy has been so good to me as my mental state has been bad, I’ve made enough money from stand-up this month to be able to pay me rent next month, and I’ve never been able to say that before.

Comedy has been one of my shining beacons of “hey, fucking survive this.” In the last 78 days I’ve performed on over a dozen showcases, featured for Gary Gulman, performed for a nearly backed ballroom at a private event, got some free Big League Chew. Right now I’m working on planning two different tours for October because I have some amazing opportunities coming up and I’d be foolish not to take advantage of them, even knocking a few states off my “never performed there before” list.

Comedy gives me five, ten, twenty minutes to go on stage and leave my problems behind, lets me exist as a version of myself that isn’t weighed down by his issues with rejection or low self-esteem. Comedy just lets me tell jokes, get some laughs, and leave to a few pats on the back. Comedy doesn’t give a fuck about what I’m going through, and god bless it for that.

Lately I’ve been telling people that I think I’m out of the woods. I still have my depressed and numb moods, but I know them for what they are and I’m working on controlling them better. I don’t succumb to them, I talk about them, fight them in any way I can to mixed results. My anxiety still takes up central property in my stomach, but it went from owning a mansion to a condo, and hopefully soon I can shrink that into a studio. When I saw that I’m out of the woods, I mean it, but I’m still right next to them.

I’ll always be right next to the woods. I’ve had two suicide attempts in the last three years, I’m stronger mentally now than I was 78 days ago, but I’m still not perfect, I’m not a resolute creature of assuredness, I’m a scared, anxious child in the body of a lumbering giant of a man trying his best. That child loves those woods, it feels safe there, even if its filled with danger for the man. I’ll always be near those woods, and that’s fine. As long as I know that, I can keep myself from going to deep back in, getting lost again.

My journey for self-care hasn’t stopped. My journey towards finding what makes me happy hasn’t stopped. Neither will, hopefully. But now I feel a less urgent need to keep this going. Updates will be fewer and farther between. Maybe I’ll just post a bunch of pictures of the amazing things I’ve been able to do, maybe I’ll just talk about how bad my taste in music is. Maybe I’ll never touch this website again. Either way, thank you for being a part of this journey, it isn’t over yet, but the road has gotten less rocky, and it feels like the sun is gonna shine for more of it than I expected.

I love all of you.

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