If you’d like to watch the talk before reading, click.

It was Christmas 2012 and life had just punched me in the face — my business had failed, I was broke and my girlfriend dumped me.

I was a mess.

I’ll admit it: the stress and anxiety I experienced on a daily basis was intense. I tried everything, but nothing seemed to shake it.

I couldn’t sleep.

Every time I went to bed and closed my eyes, horrible images would come to mind of my ex fucking her new boyfriend and fantasies of suicide.

It felt like it would never end.

Closing my eyes became a daily nightmare. To fall asleep each night I would mix enough pot with melatonin to pass out in the middle of watching “The Daily Show.”

But going to sleep wasn’t the only time I had to experience closing my eyes.

I also had to do it in the shower, and I hated it in the same way.

Imagine starting your day off by wishing you weren’t awake at all, as time slows and you feel paralyzed to make any movements whatsoever. That was my morning routine. I would wake up, (eventually) hop in the shower, and naturally I had to close my eyes. Instantly the same visuals would be there.

Fuck.

This sounds pathetic and, believe me, I felt pathetic having these experiences in the moment. And it’s certainly awkward now sharing them publicly.

Ya… so I, uhh, used to see visuals of my ex fucking her new boyfriend every time I closed my eyes… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One afternoon I was standing in my living room and I recognized that the pain was real and I couldn’t continue living this way. I decided to ask myself an honest question. “Am I actually serious about killing myself?” Or was I just a coward and using these fantasies as a way to create more pain?

In that moment, I asked myself another question: “If I could get better, if it was actually possible to get better… would I choose that?” And I knew that, yes, I would. I would choose life over death. I would choose happiness over despair.

I looked to my left and down the hallway to my bathroom mirror, and thought about what I could write on my mirror as a reminder of this choice, of this desire.

“If I could, I would.”

If I could get better, I would choose to get better. I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t going to stop showering (you’re welcome) and I could only keep my eyes open so much. Pot and melatonin weren’t going to do the trick here either. I had to find a different solution.