Tonight was one of those nights I’ll never forget—raw, heartbreaking, and humbling. A friend I care deeply about spiraled into a psychotic episode right in front of me. He believed the world was speaking in code, that everyone was after him, and that even I, someone he’s always trusted, was in on it. He accused me of being on the phone, conspiring against him. The pain and fear in his eyes cut deep.
And the thing that shook me the most? A few months ago, I was him.
Flashbacks and Reflections
Watching him lose touch with reality sent me back to the nights when my own mind played cruel tricks on me. When I was convinced the universe was conspiring to break me. When anxiety had its claws in my chest, and addiction had blurred every line between truth and illusion. Back then, I remember thinking that the people around me couldn’t be trusted. I would hear things that weren’t there, interpret every sound, glance, or silence as a threat. Just like my friend tonight, I was drowning in paranoia and fear.
Tonight wasn’t just about witnessing his pain—it was like being forced to relive my own. But this time, I was on the other side.
The Other Side of Mental Health
I’ve spent so long clawing my way out of that mental fog. Through therapy, medication, spiritual work, and countless hours of uncomfortable healing, I slowly started to feel grounded again. I began trusting myself, my surroundings, and the people who genuinely wanted to help me. Recovery isn’t linear, and I still have days where the anxiety creeps in—but tonight reminded me just how far I’ve come.
Being on the other side didn’t feel like a victory lap. It felt like a quiet reminder of how fragile this journey is—and how easily one could slip back into the chaos. It also felt like a responsibility. I knew I had to show up for my friend, not from a place of superiority, but from deep empathy. Because I know what it’s like to be terrified of your own thoughts.
Helpless, but Not Hopeless
As he paced, shouted, and questioned everything, I kept telling myself: Don’t take it personal. He’s scared. Still, it hurt. Seeing someone you love in that much pain, knowing you can’t just “talk them down” or “snap them out of it,” is one of the hardest things I’ve ever felt. There’s a helplessness in that moment that’s suffocating. But at the same time, I held onto hope.
Because if I could make it through the darkest corners of my mind, maybe he can too.
What I Learned Tonight
1. Mental health is fragile – Even when we’re doing well, it’s something that requires daily care and self-awareness.
2. Recovery gives us perspective – I used to think I was alone in my pain, but tonight reminded me that many others are battling similar demons, silently and loudly.
3. Empathy is powerful – Being able to relate doesn’t mean I have all the answers. It means I can sit beside someone in their darkness and remind them they’re not alone.
A Message to Anyone Struggling
If you’re in it right now—lost in the fog, questioning reality, wondering if you’ll ever feel okay again—please believe this: you are not broken, and this moment doesn’t define you. Healing is real. Hope is real. And even when it feels like no one understands, there are people who do. I do.
And to those of us who’ve made it to the other side, even if just for today—let’s not forget where we came from. Let’s use our pain as fuel to be a lighthouse for someone else.
You never know when your scars will be someone else’s survival guide.
Stay grounded. Stay open-hearted. And most of all—keep going. One breath, one moment, one day at a time.
