What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger: My Road to Mental Breakdown - And How It's Helped.

I was posting two to three articles a day last year.

On fire.

Red hot.

After my father's death, losing a company, I had finally found a job.

I was writing everything evening - 3000, 4000 words.

They were just my thoughts, I'd often publish them first-draft, with no edits and have little to no expectations of any results (as I am writing this on LinkedIn now at 2am, and may just do the same, it's safe to say I don't see that as a mistake).

I wasn't promoting a brand or selling a book.

They were for me.

To continue to grow, to write, just to stay focused.

In 2018 I began website design business.

It went well. I had even stuck to the Gym for the first time in my life for more than nine months. It was a daily routine, I'd cut out sugar, I was closing deals, building a brand.

And everything was starting to look up.

"Karl, it's your Dad. He's dead."

I was taken back. He had a twin, so at first I didn't think it was real. Could have been him?

They had also pulled a stunt a few years back where they had faked one of their deaths due to being hunted by gipsies... so I was in doubt (they were comical thinking about it... couldn't be written...)

It was true.

He had overdosed of heroin, been found in some car in Sandal and Agbrigg.

We had not had much to do with each other. And any time I did see him, he would be out of it. Amphetamines, Crack Cocaine, to Heroin, he was ruthless.

This is how much he had gone; he had the audacity to offer me heroin when sat with him one... obviously I walked out of the house and didn't see him for a very long time.

Anyone who has lost a loved one will know, you will never forget that day - or at least, I'd find out years later.

Back to Business

I was a gambling addict from 18-24 and had accumulated some debt.

This debt had unfortunately rolled over into my days of self-employment - and I not only had a house to run, but a lot of debt to keep up with to sustain my monthly payments.

It was going well while I had the working coming in. ￡300 per website, I wasn't doing bad.

Even in the midst of this, I tried to stay sane and continue to get more and more sales.

But then, in anger, perhaps due to not attempting to deal with any of these emotions...

I lashed out and hit the door one day.

I broke one of the bones in my finger (don't ask me which one) and the doctors put a cast around my hand.

No exercise, no swimming... and obviously it was my right hand, so not much room to make websites with one hand.

And plenty of excuses to give up on myself.

And that's exactly what I did.

The business crumbled. Work dried up, and I had to go into an IVA.

And then I came close to losing my home, with my parents paying me rent for four months.

I landed myself a job, got on top with (some of) my bills... and I tried to have a go at life.

The blogs I mentioned at the beginning of this article were written during the time I was working. I got back into the gym. And my recently buried father's twin reached out and we started to get to know each other.

Twins are weird...

Identical twins even more so.

He wasn't the same. But he was similar.

He wasn't as much as a maverick. You could have a normal conversation with him.

He had settled down.

He was back with his old family, the woman he had his children with, and I got to meet my blood-cousins.

It didn't seem real.

He was finally somebody I could relate to.

And it was literally his twin, they were identical. And joined at the hip for nearly 50 years.

We had mutual interests - obviously.

He taught me more about fitness and yoga. He had a lot to give, but had a lot of demons.

We spoke about our personality - it was similar.

The obsessive nature.

The addictive characteristics.

He told me about their childhood... a little bit.

And no, it wasn't filled with these magical moments.

We were getting the train to work together every morning - and we would go to the local yoga class after work, or we'd go up to his home, or he'd call into my house, which was near the train station as we got to our home village.

And it was all to come to an end, that routine.

My contract came to an end on 30th August.

And on the 23rd, my manager told me it would be my last week at work.

I felt like I knew it was coming - and enjoyed switching to new roles.

I was confident I would find something soon. The truth was, I already had other job interviews arranged and was passively searching for jobs for the previous month.

That weekend, I got a text from Wayne (my dad's twin). "What u up 2?"

I hadn't seen the text until late and assumed it was just another text to check up, and that I'd catch up with him over the week.

It was too late.

He had gone with his other brother (their younger brother) and reverted to his old habits.

And unfortunately, no less than one year later, and a few days before his 52nd birthday, Wayne went out the same way.

He died in Pindersfield (I believe) hospital that Monday morning.

And when you don't deal with emotions, they come back full-circle.

This week was two years since my father's passing. I got the call two years ago on Friday (just passed).

And when the day came, I went a bit crazy.

More than a bit crazy.

It ended in me bursting into tears in my mother's backyard, walking off in a pit of rage, having my family worried for my safety due to my state of mind.

And it had me thinking and feeling some terrible emotions.

Unprocessed emotions.

And when you don't come to accept you need help, or that you are suffering... how do you go ahead?

This was a clear sign to me that I needed help.

But it wasn't any sort of 'help' that I needed.

It was clarity and acceptance.

I ended up on a ten-mile walk, alone. It was good to clear my mind. I phoned my cousin, screaming and shouting, crying down the phone.

"WHYYY!"

He would be the only one to understand - he has been through the same as me with them, he was Wayne's son, and we met on the bus home one day randomly around 10 years ago and have had a close friendship since.

It made me realise - the walk...

I need to concentrate on myself.

My health.

My mental wellbeing.

My emotional capacity to accept responsibility for my life.

And so - Friday it was two years from the day that I got that call.

And it may be a call I'll never forget.

But it's a call I've got to accept.

What's done, is done. And we cannot be responsible for what's happened.

But we can be responsible for what happens.

I don't want to needlessly die at 50 and leave nothing besides grief and sorrow to others, as my father did.

I want to at least give life my best shot, even if it doesn't work out the way I planned it, at least I know I gave it a go... As Wayne tried to, once he knew his brother had sealed his own fate.

Unfortunately, he wasn't able to make it.

They weren't perfect.

But they were my heritage.

And it would have been nice to know more about them.

Today...there has been more clarity.

And it's been better. I've managed to work on some new client's websites and I can honestly say it's been one of the most productive days I've had for weeks.

I think sometimes...

We have to break down...

To build ourselves back up.

Good night, God bless.

R.I.P Karl & Wayne Langman. My heart goes out to anyone who lost their parents unexpectedly - particularly in your twenties. We barely know ourselves, we need our parents to guide us. But sadly, we must sometimes guide ourselves...