Got a special one for you today.

I honestly can’t believe this surly, stubborn motherfucker wrote for me. Feeling the love and the pandemic boredom all the way from Eastern Europe.

How about a tough-love male perspective on trauma recovery to shake things up?

Got it.

So, my big brother (the “middle child” out of three kids) is incredibly important to me. He’s probably the most influential person in my life and I don’t know what I’d do without him. I don’t know who I’d be without him. I don’t think I would have made it out of high school without the friendship of him and his dirty punk pals.

Not being dramatic. More on that later, punk rock post’s a comin.

Together, we survived the shitty family circumstances that were rather unique to our home (at the time, now opioids are all the white-trash rage, huh?). I went to his place as often as possible to escape from the mom/other-brother drama that ensued at her house more often than not.

In his smokey, dirty breezeway, we bonded for the first time over our insane relatives and general disdain for humans.

(We were angry, victimized punks with no emotional skills – give me a break.)

From there on after, I hung around my brother’s house for every band practice, I attended his cool older kid parties, I adopted his pals as my own, and I had a lifeline when shit was hitting the fan. He introduced me to my other saving graces – punk rock, drinking, and shows. Like a good big brother should.

We’ve been through SO MUCH together, even when we’re counties, states, or countries apart. It’s been absolutely crushing to see him during his darkest times. (Or, I should say, to know he was going through his darkest times, because literally no one would see him when shit was really bad.) I’ve worried for him a lot. I’ve desperately tried to help him. I’ve tried to force him into being social and happy.

But like he said, no one can tell you what to do… you just have to find your own Ukraine. Read on, it’ll make sense.

Abuse, anxiety, alcohol, deceit, depression, final solutions, surprise, confidence, happiness.
This is my old brother/best friend’s tale of trauma recovery.

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Where the fuck to start?

To preface, for anyone who may end up reading this, I am not a writer and I am not a psychologist. I mostly have no idea what I’m talking about and most likely this will turn out shitty. 

One thing I can say for sure though is that I used to be completely and hopelessly depressed, with a crazy amount of social anxiety. The most important part of this sentence and the reason I’m writing this is because I want to emphasize used to.

To be honest, It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way that it’s almost hard for me to even remember what it’s like. For over two years now, all the depression and anxiety has completely gone away and I’m in a place mentally, (and I guess my physical location as well) that I never could have imagined possible a few years ago.

Writing this, I’m currently located in Kiev, Ukraine where I have lived for the past 2 (+) years, and I wanted to share how I believe this situation and change of scenery has affected my life.

Writing this, I’m currently located in Kiev, Ukraine where I have lived for the past 2 (+) years, and I wanted to share how I believe this situation and change of scenery has affected my life.

Anyway, some brief background before I continue, in the shortest version possible.

Early anxiety and depression

I was depressed and had bad anxiety for almost as long as I can remember.

From a young age I was always afraid to make any mistakes for fear of consequences (mostly just being yelled at by parents or something), and to be honest, I was probably too sensitive to this mostly-perceived criticism. I definitely didn’t have thick skin. Unfortunately, this stuck with me and the fear of criticism and rejection got worse. 

During my teenage years, shit really started to hit the fan. The depression really started to kick in. My parents got divorced (a particularly ugly divorce, I would say) and I lost interest in most of my previous hobbies.

I felt out of place in every situation and I had absolutely zero sense of self worth. I didn’t enjoy anything, I hated everyone (aside from my few friends), and I felt totally lost. Every day was a struggle which I just didn’t see any reason to continue and no matter what I did, I could never change this feeling. 

Young Adulthood

This more or less continued until I was in my 20’s and old enough to start really working. Once I started working, I found myself being too busy to really get super depressed like I used to. I was in a serious relationship, and I would work two jobs, one full time and one part time, which left me with little time spend inside my own head.

Of course I was never truly happy and just kind of avoiding the problems, but it more or less worked. The social anxiety was still there, big time though.

I would literally turn red and start sweating whenever someone would talk to me. I couldn’t communicate with people at all, unless I had some alcohol in me, which eventually I relied on more and more often.

Absolute torture & “completely crazy”

Fast forward to the age of 27. My 10+ year relationship ended (in a really shitty way, believe me) and I pretty much hit the worst depression ever.

Every day was absolute torture. I would legitimately go days without sleeping because of my thoughts. I often couldn’t eat, couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. My brain seriously went haywire from the trauma. I remember constantly being foggy, in a way that’s difficult to even describe.

Every day was absolute torture. I would legitimately go days without sleeping because of my thoughts. I often couldn’t eat, couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. My brain seriously went haywire from the trauma. I remember constantly being foggy, in a way that’s difficult to even describe.

It was like I didn’t even exist anymore, my brain was broken. The absolute only thing I could focus on was hatred and anger, and it was killing me and I legit wanted to die.

Mostly the only thing that was stopping me was finding a way to kill myself without my family having find my body first. I thought for sure, shooting myself out in the woods somewhere would be the best way, but being as depressed as I was, I couldn’t even find the ambition/ motivation to go purchase a gun, knowing that there was some paperwork and a three day waiting period.

Heh, my depression totally saved me on that one.  

Anyway, this continued for the next few years, every day, torture. During this time, I was drinking super heavily every day, and it was becoming nearly impossible to wake up for work due to the horrible hangovers each morning.

Everything in my life was a disaster and I was completely crazy. I wanted things to change and tried to see a therapist, but it was mostly just to beg for anti-depressants, which I didn’t get, and also I didn’t find this therapist helpful at all.

Everything in my life was a disaster and I was completely crazy.

Eventually, I had used up all my “vacation” days at work on my hangovers, and since i couldn’t pull myself together, I quit my job… over the phone… after 10 years working there… no notice. I was a fucking disaster, like I said. And this was a new low.

Now I had nothing for my self worth at all, and nothing to do all day except drink until I passed out. I had some money saved up and didn’t necessarily need to work, so that’s exactly what I did.

Europe or die. Literally.

After about 9 months of this, I finally had enough and decided it was definitely time for me to check out, if you know what I mean. The only thing stopping me was all the beautiful photos I had seen of Europe, and my desire to see it before I died.

So, I half-ass organized a trip to Europe (by that I mean I bought a plane ticket), where I figured I’d start in the east, and work my way west, before getting back home and ending it all.

Ukraine here I come! Little did I know, this decision would change my life.

Ukraine

Arriving in Ukraine was crazy. I didn’t understand anything, I didn’t know the language at all, and I was completely alone. I don’t really want to spend too much time on this, but let me just say I felt good in Ukraine, and I didn’t know why. I enjoyed Ukraine so much that even though I originally planned to spend maybe two weeks there, I spent three months instead.

People seemed good, lighthearted – and shit, they liked to drink! They were super happy to meet a foreigner and I began to feel wanted.

Added bonus, almost nobody spoke English, so I never had to hear people’s dumb bullshit.

Added bonus, almost nobody spoke English, so I never had to hear people’s dumb bullshit.

I felt like a different person, I was happy. 

After that, I traveled to Romania and the Czech Republic for a month each, and although they were both cool places, Ukraine felt right to me. Again, I have zero rational for this.  Eventually, I was sick of traveling. I wanted to go back to Ukraine, but due to their laws, i couldn’t return for 3 months.

It was time to go home.

Back in the States… and done.

Returning home I felt refreshed, happy. I found something, I was alive again. I remember telling my mom “I’m back, I’m normal again, I’m ready to move on”…. 

That feeling lasted about two weeks. 

Back to horrible depression, although not as bad as before, and back to drinking every day until I passed out. I knew I needed to get back to Ukraine, the one place in my entire life where I can say that I was truly happy.

Back to horrible depression, although not as bad as before, and back to drinking every day until I passed out. I knew I needed to get back to Ukraine, the one place in my entire life where I can say that I was truly happy.

Eventually I began searching online for jobs in Ukraine. The only problem; I have no skills, no degree, and no knowledge of the Russian or Ukrainian language. No problem, right? Heh.

So what the fuck can I do there… English teacher! Yep, this fuck up became an English teacher.

(I still laugh when I listen to the NOFX song “Drugs are good.” Especially being an English teacher, at the line where Fat Mike sings “Drugs are good, they make you do things that you know you not should”). 

2 years later… social anxiety & confidence.

So, today, two years later, here I am. I still feel happy here, more than ever. I feel appreciated, I feel accomplished, I feel confident.

Besides Ukraine being a place that generally makes me happy for reasons that I can’t necessarily explain, teaching has taught me so many things and given me so many things which I’ve never had before.

Let’s start with confidence. I’ve never had any. I never thought I was good enough at anything. Oh, and that whole crippling anxiety thing…. Well, guess what, teacher, now you have a whole fucking class looking at you listening to your every word.

The first few months of this I was a wreck. I hated the attention and I mostly had no idea what I was talking about (zero experience teaching English… I literally didn’t know that “swum” was a word).

But, sink or swim, get up there and do it (I guess I swum, heh). 

Having this attention and putting yourself into these uncomfortable situations over and over again does fucking amazing things for your confidence once you can do them. I actually began to love it.

Having this attention and putting yourself into these uncomfortable situations over and over again does fucking amazing things for your confidence once you can do them. I actually began to love it.

I started to view my classes as like “The Eric Show” as stupid as that sounds, but that’s what people wanted. My reviews began to go way up and I realized, “Shit, people like me. They actually like my stupid jokes and appreciate my thoughts.”

I’ve learned that I can be interesting and that I can carry a conversation, due to our mandatory “conversation clubs” and now the kid who never used to talk won’t shut the fuck up.

I’ve even recently started my own business of conversation clubs which has been going tremendously well. Confidence through the roof.

“Happiness are good” – Fat Eric

All in all, the experience that I’ve gained has been priceless. I’m basically broke as shit now, so it better be, heh.

But I can say that it was worth every penny for my happiness, something I’ve never experienced until now.

I have absolutely no answers for anyone to do the same, I wish I did, because I can still vaguely remember that hopelessness, that depression, that anxiety. I would never wish that suffering on anyone and I would do anything within my power to help someone who is feeling this shit.

But ultimately, I can’t. You have to find your own self worth, your own confidence, your own happiness. You have to find your own Ukraine.

I would do anything in my power to help someone who is feeling this shit… But ultimately, I can’t. You have to find your own self worth, your own confidence, your own happiness. You have to find your own Ukraine.

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Words straight from the Ukrainian English teacher’s mouth, right there. Quick closing comments to wrap this message from Eastern Eur-Up.

Do I agree that his childhood just required “thicker skin?” Nope. Was our parents’ divorce particularly rocky? “LOLZ.” Were there more serious reasons for his early foray into drinking as a coping skill, rather than generally finding people agitating? Ho yeah. We skimming some shit? Yeah, but it’s a long story.

Do I think everyone should run off to Ukraine? Newp. I think he’s found a unique slice of paradise for himself.

But I do think these were the exact circumstances he needed – and many of us need – to force our brains into a place for trauma recovery.

He was removed from his daily reality that filled the last 30-ish depressing years, where he was bored, disconnected, and filled with negative memories. He was pushed into adaptation by being in a foreign country where he couldn’t even communicate. He was forced to get outside his comfort zone and prove to himself that he could accomplish something that terrified him for his entire life, being the center of attention. He had to be accountable for himself and his actions. He had to move on from the shit stained past that easily dragged him down. His success was reinforced by outside support – social acceptance that demonstrated the self-worth he always questioned. And in doing so, he learned how to be content, grateful, happy.

When I talk to my brother these days, his perspective is completely different than it ever used to be. He has optimism, autonomy, and an attitude that always lifts my spirits. He knows how to put things in perspective and gives me great advice when I’m unsure what to do with myself. He doesn’t take life, or himself, or anyone, so seriously.

I don’t worry about him anymore. I know he’s happy, and I’m confident he’ll reach out if he isn’t. He’s always been so deeply loved by his friends and family, but he could never see it for himself. Now, I think he knows.

I miss him like hell and I wish he’d move back to the states more than anything, but I’m glad that he found himself, and found happiness living in Ukraine. That makes me happy, too.

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Like his story? Want to connect with my bro?
Yeah, he’s kind of a handsome and funny fucker.
Ladies (and gentlemen) love Fat E.

You haven’t even seen his sick dance moves yet.

Send me an email traumatizedmotherfxckers@gmail.com and I’ll see what he’s up to.

THANKS AGAIN, BIG BROTHER
ox ox ox