I made a big step today.

I lay down, tilted to my right and swung to the left with my laptop in my hand. The CD skips "...in a building where I lie still and then I turn ba-back over again...". The dog squeaks a toy by my knees. I have hope.

I really fucked up today. I mean, I thought I really fucked up today ("Fucked up" is techie speak for mistake, by the way. I don't mean to cause offence with my vulgarity, between my nationality and job description it's inherent that I swear... a lot). I unknowingly killed somebody's power mid save on a file and cost them a nights recording. It's also potentially shitty to their gear but there are fail safes in place for novices like me. While the screw up was lame, it was minor, as the file was merely a version of something that had been done before and can easily be done again. All I got was a stern look and the words "Nobody died, just check next time.". Meanwhile, my head runs circles. I convince myself he thinks I'm a total fuck up and that my boss will replace me.

I spent quite a while racking my brains on how to make it up to this guy. The determined silence kind of irritated the guy I'm working for. I suppose I probably blurted it out before I left the jeep, somehow we got onto the topic and he had some life lessons to give me. He told me I need to communicate (for the second shift in a row) and so I bit the bullet. It felt like the biggest bullet that could be bitten. It was really a lot more like pulling the pin out of a hand-grenade with my mouth. I told him I'm sick.

God, I told my boss I'm sick, that's fucking unreal. I told him I've been really sick for a while, with depression, and that I'm getting better. I told him it's not been long since I've been really, terribly, incredibly ill. I said that work is good for me, I said that I never go anywhere unless I have to... and I didn't lose my job.

He didn't flinch. He didn't even take a breath, if anything he seemed relieved. He told me to get out of myself more. He said I'd been doing really well and we both should be walking more and eating less shit. He assured me that himself and all of the guys he has me working with have time for me... That isn't to say they'd want me at their birthday party but that they feel I have potential with a possible air of intelligence or competence. Even when I'm just the extra pair of hands on the gig, I'm not a waste of space. How did I get to believe that I am not a waste of space? That is a big step in itself. He said we all fuck up, he said he did the same thing this week. He said he messed up bigger last week... In fact, he's always saying "I've messed up bigger gigs than this". He said these are the kind of talks he wants us to have... He's totally okay with it.

This all being said, and as huge as it feels to me, it should be no surprise. Two days ago a statistic revealed that as many as 50% of under 25s suffer from mental health issues in Ireland, with me fitting that category precisely he had a 50/50 chance of my being among those who do. Having had such a huge weight off of my shoulders, I opened the door and turned away declaring "I like working with you and that." before leaving him. I went inside and found my brother standing in the kitchen. He ranted for a time and when he was done I told him that I love him, which I seldom say. We got onto the topic of work and had a detailed conversation about the inner workings of binary and lamp addresses. It was most pleasant.

Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith to find out the people around you will understand. I made a big step today... It feels good.

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