SEVEN! SEVEN! SEVEN is… something? BLAHG about how seven years ago I tried to unalive myself because today is the anny. I used Danzig font because I like making Danzig themed jokes.



On April 29, 2018 I said, “ight, I’ma head out.” You’re reading, or not reading my BLAHG so I guess that means I couldn’t find the damn door. Classic Damien bullshit, I even fucked up trying to off myself and ended up with a $500 ambulance bill and a massive headache. It’s been seven years. I think I can make awful and distasteful jokes about it now right? Like good thing I wasn’t depressed over being in debt…

I’ve made jokes about it, I’ve talked about it, I’ve added elements from what got me there in all of my work, so now what?

I dunno. 

I feel like at some point I should prolly shut the fuck up about it, but I don’t want to. There’s a serious issue in our world with people NOT talking about feeling the way I felt because they feel ashamed. I will continue to talk about my attempt, and life after, every time it’s relevant. If just one single person sees me talking about this with zero shame, maybe they won’t feel as bad approaching friends?

We go to war on these apps for people we’ve never met that live thousands of miles away, but we struggle to ask the person we see everyday if they’re okay. It gets painted as drama, being a bother, seeking attention, a pity party and then brushed away leaving someone feeling worse. I dunno what I’m rambling about here other than I get T I R E D of seeing people invalidate someone’s struggles because they think they had it worse. How about, I dunno, listening instead of being such a raging booger dick of a human?

You survived worse, cool, awesome, happy for you, boo boo. But how is that making someone feel better to hear? It isn’t. You’re placing even MORE guilt on them. Fuck outta here with that. If you have friends like that, kick them to the curb. If you have friends that won’t come hang out with you when you tell them you need company after your attempt because they have to go see some Marvel movie, kick them to the curb. That was a little specific right? Yeah, well, it happened, and that’s not because that person didn’t care (I mean, THAT particular person did not as they are a narcissist, but let’s pretend) mostly it’s because that person feels awkward or some shit about it. The shame we place on survivors is unreal; ask for help before an attempt, and you’re labeled something; ask for company AFTER and you’re treated like you’re carrying a highly contagious skin eating bacteria. 

We have to do better for each other. 

We just do. 

Rant aside, lemme brag on myself for one rare occasion. In the seven years since my attempt I have made so many changes to myself that I am not even the same Damien Casey Spencer I was when I woke up that day. I see that day as a death, I did die that day. All the things about me that I hated, I killed them somehow. Isn’t that some sort of pretentious writer shit? Hell yah. Lil Faulkner over here talkin bout fish. Realistically, I woke up and realized I just couldn’t do it anymore. If I was going to be stuck here on a spinning ball of mud, I should at the very least try to change what made me so miserable. You’ll not have a bigger wake up call about how big of a fuck up you are than failing a suicide attempt. Like, wow, go off you can’t do anything right diva, that’s how you got here!

Thats where it stopped. I had to stop only fucking up and causing destruction everywhere I went. I was basically a two ton ball of concrete swinging through society waiting for someone to irritate me so I could attack them physically and emotionally… sorry to my one boss I punched because he slipped in dish water and put his hand on my shoulder for balance, you didn’t deserve that, but I was already irritated about the chicken soup convo. 

Getting away from the toxicity of my parents, the spaces I tried to fit into, and this weird idea that if I believed in god, I would find happiness. Imagine me as a Christian… I was confused every single day about THAT message. But that’s been the story of my life, I have ALWAYS been looking for a spot to fit in and feel loved. Probably because I was denied it as a lil dumb ass baby or something. 

I’ve stopped doing that; okay, not entirely. I still get bummed that I don’t fit in anywhere in the writing world, although I see it as a strength. I still cry every night about how much I care about my students and how I won’t see them anymore after 12 more days because I can’t fit in with other teachers and just shut the hell up about things that are gross. I already wrote a BLAHG about that. Again, I’m depressed about it, but I know it’s a strength. 

Regardless of that, I’m proud of myself. That was so fucking hard to type that I have to put this little disclaimer after saying it was hard to type. I have written a bunch of books that I truly believe in and think are great. I’m seeing one of those books get the love I knew it deserved almost daily. Imagine a publisher telling Damien that they can’t tell him a month they plan to release his book that they’ve had for two years because “TBH we just had more important things to talk about and didn’t get to it.” Hey, look, the book is coming out, it’s getting loved on, I got the cover artist you all told me yes, then no, then yes, then no about and the cover is stunning as I knew it would be. I didn’t need you or your can’t communicate with author’s ass to make my book happen. This off topic rant brought to you by needing a transition to say that book, and the other books that pub screwed around on, found homes and are doing fine. That’s because despite what Damien thinks of Damien, and what people try to tell Damien when they gaslight him… a lot of people care about me. A lot of people support my work AND me. I don’t know why that’s so hard for me to understand internally, but that’s something I’ll figure out. 

Seven years of hard work; going to college, working full time, managing to write… I wouldn’t change any of it for anything. Has it been good? Hell no, it’s sucked for the most part. But, I’ve changed who I am. I’m still mostly depressed, especially now facing down the summer and a career change, but I can see the things that are happening now as me doing the right thing and being pushed back against. I can live with being miserable over that. 

Timer!

If you’ve made it this far in this particularly all over the place BLAHG, hell yah, love you. 

If you need to talk, reach out. My DMs are ALWAYS open. I don’t care if we’ve talked one time, or a million. You deserve to be here, you can change the things about your life you do not like, you can be the person you want to be. You deserve to fight for you. I had to learn that, and it’s been tough. It’s been the hardest thing in the world accepting that maybe I’m not some sort of tough guy who listens to music to beat ass to and controls a room through physical intimidation and fear. Trust me, coming to terms with who Damien is has been the hardest thing in the world. I’m still not fully okay with it. I paint my little pictures and ask Bre if it’s weird how much I like Wonder Woman and how much I listen to Sabrina and Chappell. It isn’t weird; I’m just one of a billion dudes struggling with this concept that we’ve had forced into our heads that men are not at all self expressive and do not enjoy anything deemed feminine unless it’s for sexual purposes. That’s a whole other BLAHG that I’ll write sometime. 

Please reach out to someone if you’re struggling. 

Please reach out to someone who may be struggling. 

Don’t avoid the people you love, be there for them every day no matter what. Fix the petty disagreements, self reflect and change. 

Help you be the best you that you can be. 

Help them be the best them that they can be.