For the sake of honesty, authenticity and my newfound moral code, I see the importance in frequently explaining myself. This is especially the case now with me lately having lacked a presence online, not posting content of any sort. It should be no surprise to a few, given my frankness about mental health and the recent challenges surrounding it which I have faced. The truth is I have not been okay. I have not felt okay. For many days since my birthday (May 3), it has been nothing but survival mode. A state where I'm only ever trying to keep my connections to the world intact. A state where I'm only ever fighting numbness through unfinished business. My life lately is nothing more than a form of imprisonment. I'm waking up each morning, only ever hoping to feel better than mediocre. I'm living through each day, only to find myself at several points in time questioning my own value. This most certainly isn't the best start to life as a 24-year-old.
I could immediately jump ahead and say my recent struggles are due to the way of the world at this very moment. However, I to some extent would only be lying to myself. The war within my mind has been around for many months already, with me having suffered attacks as far back as November last year. Because of this, I have wanted to figure out the real cause of it all. Why for this long and why still? Much to my surprise, finding the answer wasn't as difficult as I first thought it would be. Now knowing what it is and having connected the dots, I must continue in following my code by sharing it to the rest. I must go into further detail if I'm to help others in their fight against these mental demons. I'm here after all to prove that I am real and that I am human. This piece is a small journey regarding the evolution of my identity. It is 'The Story of Then' and 'The Story of Now', which includes my encounter with depression and what it really is. Here too lies the meaning of 'Incomplete'. By no means is this piece perfectly written, but it is something I hope every reader will understand.
The Story Of Then
A day, a week or a month. Any of which I cannot exactly recall now. Only the fact that it took place sometime during my final school years or afterward. My eyes had widened to a whole new view of life. It would open up a path that both my heart and mind found comfort in following. A direction that slowly but surely guaranteed my strength as well as the use of knowledge and personal experiences to my advantage. To wake up one morning and suddenly uncover a deeper meaning for each and every one of my interests. To look back and realise the errors of my previous ways. To glide past society's inequitable tags and acknowledge the many talents and levels of distinctiveness manifested by the most animated of souls. This set of new behaviours saw significant growth in me. Growth of no sort I've ever undergone before. It was as if I had turned into somebody completely different. Somebody nearly unrecognisable to myself.
First thoughts hold no surprise. For quite some time, I was very much pleased with my transformation. I now and then came to notice the power behind my new vision. I saw it making me a more appealing person to others. I too well and truly knew of these changes across the years, having felt the effects of them. The traumatising events of my past were hurting me more. There also came a greater amount of concern for how I approached different people. And just about every choice made didn't come without both some hesitation and some risk analysis. My overall levels of awareness and care had rocketed to new heights. Just simply applying greater focus and more reason to everything I did, was enough to convince me that I was utilising my brain a lot better. Of course there remained the inevitable misstep or two and a new lesson learnt from each one. But with my new way of living and my heightened attentiveness, remorse whenever present had never looked stronger.
The first sight of my novel self led to no doubts with my very next move in connecting to the world. Any concealing or constraint of Travis James from here onward, was a matter of allowing fear to take control. It was nothing but wasting a gift bestowed upon me. I simply had to put it all to some good use. With a little help and guidance from my big brother, I took a small first step into realm of social media. From there I was quick to establish contacts, share my hobbies and construct my own communicative blog titled 'It's The Self That Matters'. Everything was a means of maintaining motivation. Not only was I on the search of work, but also online friends with similar interests and topics to inspire me in expanding my grounds of artistic knowledge. Success was small yet satisfying at the time. Throughout the ongoing journey were several occasions when I saw myself having to take a step or two back. However, patience and persistence paid off. It wasn't long after I had both developed further skills in blog work and found the courage in reaching more people on larger social media platforms.
This blog is in fact my second. By this, I mean it was my second attempt. My first take on 'It's The Self That Matters' lasted for much of 2015 and a little bit of 2016. Most pieces I typed up during this time were fairly short and more colourful in tone. A couple were even heavily inspired by my year twelve studies, since I had just come out of school. I never gave myself much room to clarify my point of view and I often allowed my emotions to get the better of me. When even looking back on a few of these pieces months later, I struggled to truly comprehend what I was aiming for. But what pushed me the most into deleting everything and starting over, were the topics I discussed. While none of them were necessarily explicit or inappropriate, one or two I did touch on were to some degree sensitive. Because I had little to no experience in blog writing and no complete understanding of the topics, I was assigning myself some dangerous tasks too early. Tasks which could've caused damage to both my credibility and my reputation.
It only ever came from the smallest of new beginnings. But much of the green shoot which represented this new Travis James and started everything, is often nowadays seen by others to be the best of me. It's my untroubled demeanour and the pure expression of my joys. It's the sharing of pleasures with certain followers and the warmth which emanated from this. For so long, the founding elements of my evolution were the major source of my happiness. However, that was all they ever happened to be. I was in a bubble no different from everybody else's and there came no way of moving forward in it. Never did it mentally weigh me down, though it did encourage a further push from me to mean something more. Especially since that was my plan to begin with. Regardless of the changes either approaching me or being sought after, I had no problems with the process of becoming an all-round better person. Most aspects of who I am now when compared to those of who I was five years ago, leave me to feel prouder of myself in 2020.
The Story Of Now
Little did I know what it really meant in opening my mind to the wonders of the world. Little did I see how it could all fire back at me. For as long as I've known, I was chasing a non-existent identity for myself. One that never came to consider the space for torture. I failed to completely understand my increased brain activity. With all the focus placed on the cognition and perception of my surroundings, sneaking through the back door without any notice was self-reflection. Whilst admiring the world around me, I was forgetting to work out where I myself fitted in the picture. I was forgetting to see where I could inspire others and make a difference. Because of such ignorance, I was unprepared for greater anguish and left to overcome tougher hurdles. My current identity despite being one I am more comfortable with, was at times mistreated. It resulted in the birth of a monstrous battle with depression. A battle which I am still struggling with today.
Witnessing the burning passion along with the extraordinary talents from so many different people is nothing short of incredible. To see the lengths they go to when creating visual and auditory art and the amount of time they dedicate to the entire process, genuinely astounds me to no end. These creative individuals know where their hearts lie. They've managed to find a home for their natural skills and they don't ever seem to fear daunting tasks. Then to also catch a glimpse of the rewards they reap. The smiles on their faces. The close friends they've made and the never-ending love shared between each other. I'm always considerate of their efforts, and quick to idolise them. I try making sure my praise matches their accomplishments. I'm even reaching them privately for advice on an occasional basis. However thanks to self-reflection, there exists another strange attitude towards these folks. A sort of hindrance that I had constructed for myself and cannot seem to remove.
Never is it right for me to compare myself to anyone, but it's a hard habit to break here. Most of whom I've interacted with, have achieved so much to get to where they are today. Their status has grown online and they've further motivated themselves into filling hours with more productive activities. It reaches a point where those such as myself, are slightly less wanted. To some extent, I'm like Wayne and Garth at the first sight of a rock star. I'm always uneasy around everyone that dedicates a lot of their time and effort for me, because I'm unsure as to how much influence I have on them. With their work being of a higher quality, my default belief is that I have nothing more I can give to them besides my utmost respect. Of course it is never anybody's fault for how I cope with this. Howbeit, the success of my fellow users is the catalyst of nearly every nervous breakdown I endure. I'm left inflicting self-punishment and pressuring myself into becoming somebody more worthy of everyone's time.
There are a couple of reasons why I'm not regularly communicating with certain people online. The first of them regards my inexperience in social interaction. Due to my lack of friends and disturbing past experiences, I have difficulty in stepping forward and delivering the first word. However, I find the second of the two reasons to tell more of the story. I have the tendency to devalue myself every time I associate with strong achievers and other extremely friendly characters. Despite the forever existing option to make contact whenever I please, I remain feeling unprivileged in doing so. Especially when these people have closer friends they are more accepting towards and more intimate with. The best example of this is when I am mentioning and tagging users on Instagram. Out of respect for everyone's lives and accomplishments, I am most times keeping a distance from people unless they are otherwise okay with a regular presence from me. Regardless of whether or not I like it, I treat this as something I have to do. Never do I wish to look like or become an irritating fanboy.
Behind my multiple nervous breakdowns are solid realisations. I'm reminded of how I began my transformation without any demonstrative abilities or proper insight of myself. I'm regularly haunted by the many components I do not possess. I'm teased by the absence of shoulders to lean on. The brilliance from every single one of my idols now and then, hints how distant I am from much of the world. In the midst of any breakdown I suffer, my mind is almost in a state of paralysis. I move around the room in tears, with nothing but the worst thoughts inside my head. I lose all focus in what I'm doing and don't have the energy to perform any other activity. The worst thing about these attacks on my brain, is that there is no proper cure. I have no one I can immediately turn to. No friends I can reach on the phone. No family member who will truly understand my situation. I'm left with no choice but to fight through each of these tough moments alone. Perhaps the fact that I'm still standing means something. But no breakdown is ever wanted, especially those of my kind.
My battle with depression doesn't just stop at breakdowns though. From the top, I mentioned how much of May so far has been me waking up each morning and hoping to feel somewhat good about everything. Most days when depression doesn't strike me as hard, I remain tormented by the sporadic thoughts regarding my place in the world. I'm first left working out what mood I am in, only to then be constantly asking myself the same questions. What is it that I can do? Is my vision strong enough? Does anybody outside my family honestly care about me? Am I really worth it? I do try my best to fight these with whatever positive beliefs I can think of. But having still achieved very little and being no closer to solidifying my aspirations, I'm provided with fewer options. To think that I have just not long ago turned 24 (at the time of creating this piece) and am continuing to see no advantages or clear paths for myself, is kind of humiliating.
I've long grown up with no known talents and nothing to work with. Regardless of the many times I've sung as a child, I cannot sing. Despite having now and then danced in front of other people, I cannot dance. No matter how many times I sat in front of a keyboard, I couldn't play it properly. My family couldn't even afford me any music lessons with an instrument. I tried holding a guitar once, only for my fingers to fail in keeping a certain position. I could only ever love sport, not having the strength to partake in any. I can't do flips or parkour. I'm only ever an intermediate in art as my painting and drawing remains average. I have a hard time being funny or entertaining because I am not quick-witted. I even struggle to speak or improvise, which may hurt my chances at wanting to do acting. It took years in learning how to tie my shoe laces and just as long with whistling and clicking my fingers. If this isn't embarrassing, then I don't know what is.
But here's what really hurts me the most about myself. For every activity, there lives and breathes a community of people. The people within each community build unbreakable familial bonds through their intense passion and incredible knowledge of the activities. They not only share interests, but also skills and practices; much to the point where they could find joy in helping each other out. All of this is something I see myself unlikely to ever experience. While I do enjoy certain activities, my love for each doesn't meet such levels. My knowledge is substandard and I bear none of the associative skills. I picture it as being in every room with at least one foot hanging outside the door. Take cosplay for instance. In spite of the warm words received from a few community members here, a part of me still clings onto the general idea that I don't feel as welcome. That I don't contribute enough and I cannot influence anybody. Because my actions don't speak loud and my resources are few, people will have a hard time noticing me. No matter where I go or what I do, I fear that I won't ever make close friends because there is never enough of me to love and appreciate. I'm too much of an outsider. In almost every way, I feel incomplete.
My efforts in cosplay are obviously small due to me beginning the activity not long ago. But there is something that further drags me down. Cosplay is highlighted when people are able to really bring the characters to life. They are able to deliver accurate representations with the right resources and the right actions. Not to forget their work is visually captured in good quality. This is why most cosplay sharing pages don't share my work. I rely on heavy editing and filters to remove hideous colours. I don't pose or get into character as often due to my own lack of resources and working space. And finally because of Instragram's natural decreasing of a photo's resolution once it's posted, the quality of my shots are made to look much worse. They are more grainy and and more foggy depending on the device which they are seen on. The sad truth is my work isn't amazing and it won't ever move that many people. I don't seem to look or feel like Spider-Man, but rather just a guy in a Spider-Man costume.
The accompanying picture for this piece correlates with the idea of me feeling incomplete. Just about every part of it represents a certain interest and how I fail to go all the way with them. The half with my face speaks for self-expression. It's the ongoing journey of defining my character. The half of me shown here is my ability to create abstract ideas and conceptualise physically existing ones, while the half of me missing is my shortage of talents and inability to form physical products with proper efficiency. The half of me as Spider-Man particularly focuses on my cosplay. Visible is the side of honouring not just the character, but the general idea of another's work. The part missing is my inability to truly become the character I'm cosplaying as. It's me failing to embrace cosplay in its entirety. And the whole picture being monochromatic represents my journey as a self-proclaimed artist. The light symbolises basic knowledge while the absence of further colour speaks for my creative limitations.
At some point and for quite a while, I persisted with a line in my Instagram bio. My dreams are your reality. Nobody ever truly understood what it meant, but it just about spoke for my state of affairs. I was alone and friendless. Always disconnected from the outside world and never belonging to any society. I couldn't do enough to influence anybody. No matter when I tried pushing, I had no kind of support and no one to look to. No matter how hard I tried pushing, I could never get over the line. My whole existence had warped into one of misfortune and social rejection. It had pushed me towards believing that there was nothing and nobody for me here, which was a further step towards suicide. A state that had me thinking "God. You've made a mistake". The disconnection is still somewhat noticeable for myself today. What's normal and common for everybody else, is seen as magic to me. Whenever I come across the apparent influence I create for others, it's forever tears and pure disbelief. It's me refusing to accept that I can ever have that kind of power.
All of this has brought to me some answers about mental health. That unlike anxiety at most times, depression cannot be completely eradicated. Once somebody has it, they are likely living with it for the rest of their lives. The only thing anyone can really do, is restrict its impact. To manage it and fight it well enough so that it never (or at least rarely) becomes a problem moving forward. The proof is in my experience with both. My existential crisis back in 2018 whilst an insufferable and long-lasting anxiety attack, was only ever a fear of the surface. The simple view of life and death along with the process of living. My brother (who I caught it from) best described it as 'being trapped inside one's own body'. It's even sometimes treating life as a simulation. Depression on the other hand, involves an awful lot of self-reflection. It is one's specific purpose of living and fitting into the giant jigsaw puzzle. It's the pressures often teasing the victim and leaving them in distress.
Depression too depending on its level of impact, can play tricks on the mind. Still to this day, it has me temporarily forgetting much of what has happened. The few words of support I have received get lost within the fog. A breakdown or anything similar which I endure, pretends to be a reset. Back to a starting position, where the same fiendish thoughts plague me. Nobody really cares. Nobody understands. I'm a sad excuse for a soul. In many moments, I do things with a weight on my back. When I well and truly know I can think straight, I'm not. I've proven this through my Instagram journey of pictures. I'm always writing what goes through my head under most posts of mine, forgetting that I may have already addressed certain ideas. It sees me often repeating myself, which hurts because I usually detest this sort of repetition coming from anyone. These mind games turn me into someone I am not and give me more of an incentive to hate myself.
And worst of all is this. No matter where I go or what I do, the only ever company I have is depression. Like my own personal storm cloud every time I step outside the front door. This was the case back in January when I tried to live a carefree day and take my mind off all the pressures. I decided on a relaxing adventure by foot around the Melbourne CBD, only for it to not end up so relaxing. It was the dullest of days with occasional showers. I was unsettled like most by the raging bushfires in Eastern Victoria. Alone with very little knowledge of the area, I lost my way around the west side of the city. Not to mention I too lost possession of my valuables, leaving me to rush around and retrace my footsteps in order to find them. My trip left me wanting to do it again around this time, but the ongoing global pandemic had thwarted my plans. I don't know why, but nothing ever seems to work out for myself. I'm only left to assume life hates me at the moment.
Through all the pain of my depression though, the pillars of my transformation stand strong. I am always making certain I have everybody else's best interests at heart. My words remain kind, considerate and supportive of both them and their success. I am forever hoping and looking for ways to ensure nobody is frustrated or unsettled by my problems. But perhaps my morals see me taking this a little too far. In spite of the words from a few I have received about the ignorance I will normally come across, I continue taking the blame for everything. When people turn their back on me, I tend to believe they are right in doing so. I look to it as me not being enough to satisfy them. As not doing enough to earn their attention and full respect. My habit of taking responsibility for actions that are not mine, is my desperation on show. It is me doing whatever I can to find a mate. The world can do no wrong in my eyes, even when it shows its cruelty and spits in my face.
I share this story not for pity or sympathy, as they are merely a choice for the reader that reflects their own morality. I share this story in the hopes of earning trust. To tell all of how real I am and how I am the furthest thing from perfect there is. I share this story, knowing I have to if I'm to find the light. I share this story to inform everybody about depression and what it can look like. I wish to guide people away from the darkness and keep them from hurting like I have been. I don't believe that chemicals or drugs are ever the solution. I believe people are. I believe sharing my story to anyone and everyone is my best chance of finding close friends and the right support. I believe it is the best chance of bringing forth my fortunes and making my dreams come true. To all that have come this far and to all who have supported me during these darkest of months, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are my means of survival and you are my potential angels. Hopefully someday in the not too distant future, there will be someone to truly make me feel welcome and turn my life around.
Travis "TJ" James
