This is another possible version of the song “Skeletons” (see link at bottom of post) by Brian Jost (initial song idea composed in January 2019). It’s based on a different chord progression and a much higher voice than he is used to singing. It’s a very rough take and far from finished. The song is missing a lot, like a chorus and bridge, as well as a more positive ending. Brian composed and recorded this version of “Skeletons” likely in September or October of 2021.
SUICIDE AND THE NEW YEAR. The following post was written by Brian Jost over a year ago on 01/01/2021 and posted on this blog on 01/09/2022).
A first-person perspective by Brian Jost:
Silence and isolation have been my close friends for far too long. I welcome them both when I am depressed and anxious over my personal battle with guilt and shame concerning my daily thoughts of suicide. Although I have shared publicly for years that I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder type 1 in 2005, I have only touched extremely lightly on the topic of suicide as it has affected me. Somehow, I have found admitting that I have a mental illness relatively simple (not to be confused with “easy”) but admitting that I have lived with daily thoughts of suicide for most of my adult life (I’m 45 as I write this) feels much more complicated and embarrassing. I wish it wasn’t that way. I wish everyone who experiences thoughts of suicide could share it easily with whomever they need to share it with.
When I find myself playing with my young kids, laughing, having fun, but at the same time noticing my desire to leave this world, I quickly and easily think I am broken. I start feeling weak. I feel ashamed that I am not a stronger husband and father. I feel guilty for having kids who I may not be able to raise to adulthood. I feel far less than whole. Despite these self-defeating feelings, I somehow carry on and continue to live even during the days when I can only handle the next 60 seconds repeatedly until the minutes finally pile up enough to bring me to sleep. I do my best to think at night that tomorrow will be better, but that’s often not an easy thought to think. I tell myself “Good job for surviving this day” and “I will be able to handle tomorrow.” Then “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.” That children’s’ story about the little train engine who had to think its way up the big hill finds its way into my thoughts often.
Since last spring I have been trying to answer a question that I was asked from a former colleague at NAMI Minnesota (National Alliance on Mental Illness) with whom I shared the fact that I live with almost daily thoughts of suicide. Her question was simply “How do you do it? How do we tell others to do it?” I couldn’t answer her at the time. I wasn’t sure how I was managing. Then months later during a productive moment of purposeful introspection, I had a much needed “EUREKA!” moment in which felt I instantly knew the answer. Although the answer appeared simple to me, I have been trying to sort it out in writing and it is not ready to share. My answer keeps getting longer and more complicated as I work on organizing it in a way that I believe will be worth sharing.
My second book is on its way to provide this answer. It is my answer, my way of living with thoughts of suicide that may never completely disappear. It is my hope that my answer may help others. I’m tired of my silence. I’m tired of pretending to be “normal” when I know I’m not. I’m tired of feeling ashamed for having a mind that is less healthy than many other minds. I am tired of bipolar disorder. I am tired of depression. I am tired of anxiety (general, social, situational…whatever form it may take). I am tired of fearing another manic episode and hospitalization, even though it’s been over 10 years since experiencing either. I am tired of struggling with what is likely attention deficit disorder. I am tired of not being able to trust myself when I feel good or happy (that’s me fearing that I’m getting manic). I am tired of medication. I am tired of ignoring the truth when asked “How are you?” I am tired, so very tired, but I am not ready to rest.
Suicides are on the rise and there is still so much work to be done to decrease the increasing rates that appear to be out of control. I have a lot to say about it. I used to speak a lot about it publicly, sharing my personal recovery story, giving hope to people by being open about my struggles and sharing what has worked for me. I reached a point when it all felt too confusing and overwhelming. I quit my job at NAMI Minnesota (National Alliance on Mental Illness) this past summer of 2019 after over seven years on staff plus three additional years volunteering before being hired. A decade of intense involvement with NAMI has given me a perspective on mental illness that I feel I need to share with the world. I know my message isn’t truly for everyone, but something inside me is urging me to yell loud and clear that there is a better way for all of us to look at mental illnesses. There is a better way to do a lot of what is being done in the world. There is a better way. With that thought in mind, I somewhat reluctantly but openly welcome the new year.
Read or listen to Brian Jost’s memoir: “Grounded by Bipolar Disorder; One Pilot’s Landing” (available in print, e-book/kindle, and audiobook). Click HERE to find the book on Amazon and Audible.