A Warm Send-Off to ‘25
It’s a rare thing, climbing to the top of the world twice, and falling face-first both times. The first time I fell — a result of my then emerging Schizophrenia in 2020 — all I wanted was to get right back to New York and make like I’d never left. Not the worst strategy, but one filled with far too many holes.
Nonetheless, I did climb back to the top of the world, releasing three albums alongside my musical collaborator A. Spinelli in 2023, and putting out my first novel last year, which if you’ve skulked around this website at all, you’d know I’m pretty proud of. What I wasn’t ready for, and more than that; didn’t expect, was my second manic episode kicking off only a month after Endless: I Arrived hit shelves.
Between 2021 and 2024 I ardently saw to taking my meds in every three month, to one month interval across so many changing doctors and outpatient facilities I’ve genuinely lost count. Through all of them one fact remained; I never missed an appointment. Like I said though, my plan was always to make like I’d never left, which entailed indulging in flower— something I definitely shouldn’t have been doing, but incidentally had little effect on my chronic illness. I kept up the habit for years since my initial diagnosis, so I was pretty comfortable with the inherent risks. More potent psychoactives? I’d completely sworn off doing again. 5 years going strong on that one.
It was Winter ‘24 when my medical insurance failed on me and I had to switch from injectable Schizophrenia medication to daily tablets. Within a month of the switch the second manic episode erupted, and swept me into the realm of paranoia and delusions once more. You take a good hard look at yourself the second time you fall. Were there things you were doing wrong at the time? Absolutely. But was the fall itself your fault? No. I spent days on the phone with medical insurance trying to maintain the best possible medical care I could afford, and unfortunately, pills were the only option available to me. I’d learn once I was hospitalized following my episode that I just don’t react to pills well, or rather, their ability to keep me mentally stable is ineffective. The moment I stopped having access to my regular treatment I was bound for psychosis, I just hadn’t learned that fact yet.
So my book releases. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I lose my mind, and I’m back home in South Africa, all in the span of a month. It’s not even close to the end of my fall, and I spend most of 2024 in the middle of psychosis. Eventually I get the medical treatment I need (thanks in all to my loving family) and I come back to sanity, at rock bottom for the second time in my life.
2025 started from the bedrock; jobless; friendless (on account of all of the bridges I burnt during my psychosis); and thousands of miles from the city I felt most capable in. Not an easy start. But I started seeing a therapist. And honestly, she made all the difference.
I won’t get too intimate with the details, but that therapist pulled me back from a very dark place I’d never really encountered within my own mind before. She kept my focus on recovery, and reminded me I’m human— a fact which admittedly had been lost on me during my bleakest moments of self-talk.
Landed a job in March. Put my second book out with some major financial assistance from my family this April, and thus began my slow climb. Over that climb, I realized I’m not trying to make it to the top anymore, I’m trying to scale a new mountain completely. The first order of business on the new trek; cutting flower out of my life permanently and prioritizing my health above everything. Ensuring I never run into a situation where unaccounted for variables dance around my peripheries without professionals being there to see them. Second, mending relationships I strained. This one wasn’t easy, and entailed a lot of shame at my psychotic actions actually, but I managed to salvage the friendships that matter the most to me. Other people left me behind, and they’ve got their reasons I’m sure, but it’s for the best. I won’t be looking back. Third; never slowing down on my creative pursuits. Writing my third book; making headway on my feature film, and staying true to my aspirations for storytelling through it all.
And as the year comes to a close, I can look back on it fondly. I made some new friends. Reconnected with old. I’ve kicked some old habits. I’ve contributed to society. And I haven’t backed down from my dreams. It’s been a year of rebuilding, and maybe that was necessary. I needed to know that half-assed principles are bound to crumble. I needed to fall a second time to reflect on what I know I can change, and what I can accept without guilt or shame— but that I can prevent from happening again. Once again, my family stepped up for me, and this time I’ll honor them. The city is very far away, but I feel its beat close to my chest. The next time I see it I’ll be well into the person I had to fall to become: a wiser, more disciplined lad.
So until then, cheers to 2025, lights and cameras for 2026, and happy holidays to all. We’ve all got a story in the making, and I hope you’re feeling hopeful about yours. If not; a year spent rebuilding feels pretty good.
Take it from me,
Yugo
