I said CCK saved my life. Let me explain.

Katt Adachi
Sep 8, 2018 · 8 min read

(Content Warning: Open discussion of mental illness, self-harm, suicide, addiction)

I’ve wanted to write this for a long time.

I haven’t, though, because even though I’m fairly confident in the support I’ll receive from those close to me, it’s actually still pretty hard to look people in the eye after baring your soul on the internet.

I’ve been pretty coy about my mental health issues in the last few months. I’ll make a mention here and there, but without context or explanation. Honestly, it’s 100% because of how many new people I’ve met since June. I think I thought that if I just didn’t tell anybody then it would stop being a part of who I am, but that’s just not true. I think it’s time that changed.


Here’s some background. I was diagnosed with chronic depression over 15 years ago at the age of 12. At 14 I was prescribed anti-psychotics for my mood swings. At 16, general anxiety disorder, and finally at 19, borderline personality disorder.

I’ve actually written extensively about my experience with BPD before, which you can read here: https://kattadachi.com/2018/01/31/on-the-borderline/. It’s a couple of years old at this point, but it’s still the most important thing I’ve ever written and probably a good place to start.

Really, the introduction explains pretty much all you need to know to understand what the point of this post is:

I’ve thought of killing myself probably at least once a day for more than 15 years. I’ve come close a couple of times. You may have heard me say that I feel younger than I really am––most of that comes from years I wasted sleepwalking through life because I never thought I’d make it past 25. What’s the point of planning for a future that won’t happen?

I’m 28 now. I’ve lived a lot of life. Sometimes, I still think it’s more than enough.


I had a lot of extremely low points during the year I spent in England. I look back on it fondly now, but there were so many times it could have gone another way.

It’s funny to think of now because it’s over. But in January, all I wanted to do was drop out of school and go home. I wanted to give up, and I couldn’t — not only was my pride on the line, but I couldn’t get my money back from school or afford to fly home. I didn’t feel that I had any meaningful relationships, I missed my dog, and… I was stuck. There wasn’t an easy way out.

I wish I could say this was when Britwres stepped in and saved me, but it’s not true. Wrestling was still an extremely isolating experience for me, too. I didn’t know a single person, and wrestling had always been something I enjoyed with my friends back home. I spent my first six months in England going to wrestling shows without talking to a single person. My anxiety made me want to leave most of the shows I did go to and kept me from making any connections beyond that.

At the end of February I went to my first Progress show, and posted on Twitter about how nervous I was. Someone directed me to PWGrrrlGang, Suzy stepped in, and the rest is pretty much history. I also spoke to Chris Brookes for the first time that night, despite seeing him at every show I’d been to at that point, and becoming a huge fan over the half a year I’d already been in the UK.

Not everything changed at that point. I still went to a bunch of shows where I didn’t know anyone. I still hated my life. I still felt like I was an outsider.

I remember wandering around my first Riptide show nervously the following week. I’d got the ticket from PWGrrrlGang, but Suzy, the only person I’d talked to, couldn’t make it. She told me that if I was nervous I should talk to CCK — not that it was something I would ever do. Again, I almost left.

The funny thing? Chris called out to me that day. We talked about cutting the sleeves off t-shirts. Lykos talked to me about Drake.

I stayed.

DTTI at the end of March was when I started making real relationships with people. My anxiety was still controlling my entire life, and I was so stressed out about school, but wrestling actually started feeling like an escape from that instead of something that just added onto it.

Lykos remembered me at DTTI. He asked me how Drake was.

I can’t tell you how many moments like that I remember. That I’ve held onto. It’s what made me stop feeling like I was just some kind of ghost that would drift in and out of shows. I was there, I was real.

That’s not to say I didn’t get real bad again. I had a mental breakdown at the beginning of April. At the end of May I sat at a Progress show and thought maybe I’d stopped loving wrestling because I just wanted to leave so badly––but it probably had more to do with the painkiller and sleeping pill addiction that I’d fallen back into, even though I promised I’d never do it again.

I ran away to Ireland at the beginning of June to disconnect and detox. I’d already started on hook & catch, but my depression, anxiety, and addictions had prevented me from getting any work done. I’ll be honest with you now and say that there was a time where being around to make my return flight was probably a flip of a coin.

Again, things ended up going the right way for me. I’ve said it before, but that was the first project I’ve ever done where every single person I asked for help said yes. Every person I asked for an interview said yes, everyone was willing to give me their time, every photographer graciously let me use their photos. That was when I truly realised just how supportive this community could be.

At one point during this time––and this was a private moment, but I hope he won’t mind me sharing––Lykos pulled me aside and told me how cool it was that something I’d worked so hard on was going so well. That I’d made something really great. He gave me a hug and told me he was happy for me.

I honestly can’t put into words how much that meant to me. At that moment, everybody else in the world could have hated it.

I can actually pinpoint that as the moment where I realised that being sincere, honest, and open with praise is a good thing. I noticed it among all of that midlands crew — always being so complimentary and supportive of each other. I’ve tried to live my life the same way since then. I really think it’s made me a better person, a more loving person, and a happier person.

I said a few times during the #wolffund project that it was the least I could do for someone who had done so much for me. I guess you can see what I meant, now.


I don’t need to talk about much after that. I started drawing some pictures in July. Everyone has been so supportive and nice about that.

Despite all of the issues I’ve had, despite wanting so desperately to go home, I started wanting to stay instead.

I have such a wonderful group of friends now. I miss them all terribly. It blows my mind a little bit — for so long I was sure no one gave enough of a shit about me to even notice I was gone. I felt like British wrestling, in particular, was something that meant so much and had done so much for me, but that I had nothing to show for it. It couldn’t be further from the truth now. There are people who are actively trying to help bring me back. There are people actively trying to make me feel like a part of it even when I’m on the other side of the world. I am cared for and loved and missed, and I didn’t think that was ever possible for me.

But when I didn’t have that — and sometimes even when I did — it was a smile from Chris, a wave from Davis, a hug from Kyle, or a chat with Lykos that kept me going. Not only do I forget about anything else that might be happening in my life as soon as one of their matches starts, they also served as friendly faces to keep me afloat when I needed it the most.

I think it just goes to show that the smallest things, a few kind words, a smile, a tweet — they really can make a huge difference.


The thing about constant suicidal ideation is that it kind of means I need my life “saved” a lot. It means I need to think up a whole lot of reasons why life is worth living. I need to think of a lot of reasons to get up in the morning.

It’s why I can so firmly say things like, British Wrestling saved my life. CCK saved my life. That time Dunkzilla smiled at me in an off-license when I was having a panic attack, that saved my life.

Things have been a lot better in the last few months, but it hasn’t been perfect. There’s been dark days. Even recently — on Night One of the KTTTI in Cheltenham, surrounded by friends, I had a dissociative panic attack. If you saw me with a bandage on my hand in my last week in the UK, it’s because I punched the hell out of the wall of the Frog and Fiddle during that show and ended up with a pretty gross infection.

It’s really easy to be negative about stuff. I’ve spent most of my life that way. It’s easy to see some things about wrestling — the people in it, the business itself, the drama between fans — and be negative about it. I just wanted to put something in the universe that says… wrestling can be really, really good, too.

A year with as many lows as this might have sent me off the edge when I was just a bit younger. But never before have I felt more loved and supported as I do now. It’s because of the relationships I’ve made that despite all of the lows, none of it seems so bad.

I genuinely have Britwres to thank for that.

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