Welcome to The Grand Illusion...

A quick question for you: What was the first concert you ever attended?

Mine was the American rock band STYX during The Grand Illusion Tour. The album came out in 1977.

Yes, I'm dating myself.

My older brother and sister took me to see Styx's live concert for my twelfth birthday. I still remember it, can still feel the rush, can still sing every word to every song... Not bad for something that took place 45 years ago.

In these past few days, that concert, those songs and their lyrics have haunted me. So, too, has the suicide of yet another bright light, Stephen "tWitch" Boss , the former Ellen DeGeneres Show DJ and So You Think You Can Dance All-Star. This talented artist who from the outside looking in seemed to have it all -- from his career to his personal life -- chose to end his days with a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. He was just 40 years old. He left behind a wife and three young children...and so many unanswered questions.

As a fan and follower of tWitch, I can't help but ask why...? What tormented your soul? Was there no one you felt you could turn to?

As a fan and follower of tWitch, I can't help but ask why...? What tormented your soul? Was there no one you felt you could turn to?

I ask, knowing that answers, most likely, never will be known.

That's how it is, more often than not, when we feel our only choice is to suffer in silence.

When I was 12, standing on a metal folding chair in the center of that arena, barely able to contain myself while watching Styx' bandmates Dennis DeYoung and Tommy Shaw up on the stage, joining them in belting out "...you're fooling yourself if you don't believe it...," shaking my pre-teen self, all the while hanging onto my brother's hand to keep from falling...for just those few hours, I forgot about my own struggles, the ones no one from the outside looking in would have guessed a 12-year-old might be hiding.

My family suffered in secret with mental illness that, in those days, wasn't even remotely understood or readily diagnosed. It also wasn't something one shared with others, especially given our own Sicilian culture that mandated "what happened in the family stayed in the family" (ala cosa nostra). My mother wouldn't be diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia for a few years, despite her rage and psychotic behaviors, and even after undergoing a couple of brain surgeries. That's how it was in the late 70s and early 80s.

As we entered into the 90s, my father would unexpectedly drop dead from a massive heart attack, leaving me grief-stricken, something that, back then, one also kept to themselves. Three days was all one might get in bereavement at the job (if lucky), then it was back to work as if nothing ever happened. Shortly after my dad's death, however, the "hits" kept coming (not musically, but in the "Bible's Book of Job" kind of way) with my sister at the age of 24, two years my junior, exploding in her own psychotic episode, requiring me to commit her to a psychiatric hospital.

So, there I was, in my mid-twenties, serving in a suffocating silence as the primary caregiver to my mother and to my little sister, both of whom had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, and almost without even noticing it, I began descending into my own despair and darkness .

But nobody outside of me would have had a clue. I said nothing. I did not ask for help. I carried on, performing at my job, succeeding in my role, managing medical and legal and financial responsibilities for my mom and sister, and doing it all with a smile on my face, projecting outwardly and responding to anyone who did bother to ask: "nothing's wrong...everything's fine".

I think of tWitch's smile, and the secrets Stephen Boss was keeping, the demons he must have been battling in his own suicidal mind. I, nor anyone else, can fully understand what he was going through. But I, personally, do know first-hand what it feels like to be drowning, to want to give up, and to make the decision to do so.

But I, personally, do know first-hand what it feels like to be drowning, to want to give up, and to make the decision to do so.

For me, divine intervention stepped in during my own dark night of the soul. Had a stranger not intervened, I would have carried out my plans for murder-suicide. In my case, I did not want my mother and sister to be left to fend for themselves, so I decided it made more sense to just take them out along with me.

That's what it's like. Chaos clouds one's thinking. Logical thoughts go on hiatus. There is no way out other than the one way that puts a permanent end to one's pain.

My heart goes out to tWitch, his family, and to anyone reading this who's keeping their own secrets, suffering in silence, contemplating their own end to the pain. All I can offer up is a knowing that our stories are never over, until they're over. Life changes every second, if we give it the chance to do so .

As someone who was not born yesterday, every time I think of how much has changed in this world, something makes me realize that regardless of the decades rolling by, very little seems to have changed on a great many fronts.

As the lyrics of Styx's Grand Illusion spelled out in the 70s: "...don't be fooled by the radio, the TV or the magazines. They show you photographs of how your life should be, but they're just someone else's fantasy. So if you think your life is complete confusion, because you never win the game, just remember that it's a grand illusion, and deep inside we're all the same..."

If there's any lesson to be learned, or to point to in this piece, perhaps it's just that: "Deep inside we're all the same." It doesn't seem to matter what year it is, how many years we have under our belts, what technologies we use, how many ways we have to connect with one another, what our external circumstances or our states of being might be. At the end of the day, just as is said at the end of Styx's song, 'We made the grade and still we wonder who the hell we are." I hope we all stop wondering and stop believing we're not good enough. I pray we all start embracing our stories -- our trials and our triumphs -- and realize that all we have to do is BE.

988?has been designated as the new three-digit dialing code that will route callers to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. If you’re?thinking about suicide, are worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, the Lifeline network is available 24/7 across the United States. Talk to someone now.

#suicideawareness #storytelling ?#leadership ?#impostersyndrome #hopeandhealing #tellyourstory #youareenough #youarenotalone #mentalhealthmatters

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NOT BORN YESTERDAY is a work in progress, and just as we who were not born yesterday continue to evolve and grow in our respective journeys, so, too, will this newsletter. I welcome hearing from you on what topics you might want me to touch on here and open up for discussion. You and your story matter. You have and continue to live your own "wonderful life" and sharing the lessons you've learned with others can only help to change this world for the better.

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Paolina Milana is a storyteller with journalistic roots. She is Founder of?Madness To Magic . She is a published award-winning author, podcaster of?“I’m with Crazy: A Love Story”, keynote speaker, and a content producer; her work has been published in various outlets including?INC ,?LifeHack , and more. Paolina is an authority in story-based leadership and in sharing stories that celebrate the triumph of the human spirit and the power that lies within each of us to bring about change for the better.