In January 2023, I was late to my first online therapy session (technical difficulties). After my therapist Shannon introduced herself, she asked me what goals were.

Looking away from my new digital shrink, I paused to reflect on her question and then said, “I’ve been broke, miserable, and alone for most of my life. If I could just fix one of those three things—and be a little less broke, miserable, or alone—that’d be amazing.”

Before I talk about my early experiences in therapy, I suppose I should tell you a little bit about my psychological background.

Mother, Interrupted

My mother struggled with severe mental illness through most of her adult life. I always knew that she probably wouldn’t live for very long, mainly because she was honest with me and told me so.

I recall discussing suicide and the unfortunate reality that she might die by suicide with her on several occasions. “You need to realize that that’s a possibility,” she warned me. “But you also need to know that if it happens, it won’t be because of you.”

My mom died of a prescription drug overdose in 2001, just a few weeks before 9/11. I was 16 at the time. Other suicide attempts and gestures had preceded her death.

So yeah, I knew my mom was doomed from an early age. That was hard, and her death is something I won’t ever heal from completely.

In my book, Love Songs and Suicide: A Travel Memoir, Romance, and Tragic Musical Comedy, I write extensively about my mother’s life and death.

Panic in the Cafeteria

At age 12 I developed a severe case of social anxiety disorder. I didn’t know what the condition was at the time. All I knew was that I felt as though I was going to have a heart attack every time I entered the school cafeteria.

Then I lost all my friends, became isolated, and developed the worst case of acne in King County (Washington).

Remember the show Freaks and Geeks? If not, you’re probably at least familiar with the concept.

Well, that show seemed glamorized to me as a social pariah.

At least the main characters in that show had a tribe.

I had nobody.

“Our Scars Remind Us that the Past is Real”

-Cormac McCarthy (via Papa Roach)

The acne left a lot of marks all over my face and body. They’ve mostly faded with time, but I still feel like “the zit kid,” my old nickname, in some ways even today, 20-plus years later.

I remember feeling disgusting.

And people around generally agreed, it seemed, that I was indeed disgusting.

A Clueless, Unhappy, Unsuccessful Bachelor

For the better part of my adulthood, I’ve been single and struggled to cover my basic expenses. I’ve always worked. But because I have an avoidant personality disorder, which is similar to social anxiety disorder but with more severe symptoms, I’ve gravitated toward low-paying remote jobs with minimal responsibilities that require little to no interaction with other people.

I was a low-rent copywriter for five years and wrote copy on websites for every type of business, from doctors and lawyers to painters and plumbers.

It was a high-skill job.

And the websites were expensive, yet I earned $14 per hour for my efforts as a writer.

My latest editing job also offers low wages for high-skill work.

Most writing and editing jobs that pay reasonable wages require extensive interaction with clients.

And I’ve despised interacting with clients.

My fear of rejection has limited me.

It’s crippled me, actually.

My First Book

I spent a year and a half writing my debut memoir. During that process I sifted through 25 years’ worth of trauma and damage in isolation.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

The book is about my mom, mental health struggles, background in songwriting, travels across the United States, experiences at the one and only “real” job I’ve had in my life, and more.

Love Songs and Suicide: A Travel Memoir, Romance, and Tragic Musical Comedy is often hilarious despite its heavy title.

Description below.

After losing his day job as an editor, songwriter Robert Horton accepts a minimum-wage security position at a rural hospital. There, he faces off with volatile psych patients and occasionally questions his own sanity. He also meets and befriends Amelia, the beautiful and nomadic nurse who inspires him to travel, write new music, and exacerbates his alcoholism.

Horton later embarks on three cross-country road trips, traversing the Oregon Coast, seventeen other states, and New Orleans. On his “Bipolar Express” tour of the American Southwest, he visits five national parks in six days, navigates a flash flood, and often daydreams about Amelia.

Despite its heavy title, Love Songs and Suicide features hilarious anecdotes in nearly every chapter. Horton reports on his observations as a security guard, detailing his interactions with a motley crew of meth heads and certifiable lunatics. He recounts vomiting on the actress Sigourney Weaver’s mother. Other stories involve a deaf ex-professional breakdancer from the Philippines, “The Worst Wingman Ever,” and a double-dog dare at the Grand Canyon.

Told with the kind of honesty that will make readers cringe in both horror and delight, Horton delivers poignant reflections on depression, anxiety, and grief. The book is also a heartfelt love letter, dedicated to heroic healthcare workers everywhere. It contains four parts.

1. Hangovers Upon Hangovers
2. The Security Section
3. Travels, Tribulations, and a Plague
4. Hang Gliding Naked in the Himalayas

You’re welcome to come along for the ride. And unless you’re on a plane or out in public, pants are optional. Access to the book’s soundtrack is included with your purchase (details inside).

A Breakdown

When I finished writing the book, I went into a severe depression. The prospect of promoting it and/or trying to pitch it to agents overwhelmed me.

Nearly 100 percent of books sell fewer than 50 copies.

I had no reason to believe mine would reach a broad audience–or anyone at all, for that matter. I wasn’t sleeping. As I wrote the book, I accrued a significant amount of debt. The project was a total obsession, and I effectively relied on my mental health disorders to carry me across the finish line.

Also, I took out my frustrations on my best friend and subsequently lost her.

To the Couch (Wrapping It Up)

Yeah, so these were the events that led me to therapy.

• Trauma from my childhood
• My mother’s death by suicide
• Body image and self-esteem issues leftover from my adolescence
• A postpartum depression of sorts after completing my book
• Losing a good friend

In 2022, I switched insurances and finally had access to reasonably priced psychiatric care and sought help. And I’ll be talking more about my experiences in therapy over the coming weeks and months.

 

Next: Therapy Journal 2 – “A Happiness Prescription”