Mark Thompson

About Mark Thompson

Mark Thompson lives in regional NSW working by day as a journalist, and by night lives and breathes being a food and wine snob.

The Rock’s depression admission should lift the boulder off many of us

The Rock is a man who has everything. This morning, he very publically stated that he suffered from depression. We should all take a note.

 

 

The man as hard as his name suggests, The Rock, has come out and said a very brave, very obvious thing. Despite his megawatt presence and the general assumption that he’s one of those people that things just come easy to, he is not immune to the grip of depression.

In conversation with British publication Express, The Rock dropped the people’s elbow on everyone’s assumptions, disclosing that he “…reached a point where I didn’t want to do a thing or go anywhere. I was crying constantly.”

Sadly, the genesis of his depression grew from his mother’s attempted suicide when he was but a teen. However, the important part of the situation is what he learned, and subsequently passed on, stating via Twitter: “…we all go the sludge/shit and depression never discriminates. Took me a long time to realize but the key is to not be afraid to open up. Especially us dudes have a tendency to keep it in. You’re not alone.”

 

 

You know what? We should all very much sme-el-el-el-eellll what he’s cooking. Because it’s a brisket of logic. Publically highlighting the issue of male depression is forever a worthwhile thing, especially because we tend not to listen. We’re deafened by that ancient stoic machismo born, and drummed into many of us (myself included), we tend to believe that we can endure it, because we can handle it. 

Yes, I’m just a pebble compared to The Rock, but that doesn’t matter. I too have been long chased by the blackest of hounds since puberty. Too long did I walk the streets ignoring its howl, believing that it was fine to feel like this, because that’s what I deserve. Similarly, when its fur replaced my skin, and overcame me completely, I hid my protruding canines from my friends, because I didn’t want to seem weak. I didn’t talk to them, because I didn’t know how, or I didn’t want to admit that I had a problem. It was easier to say nothing. 

However, The Rock has highlighted this fallacy, the error in this thinking. Talking doesn’t need to have means, it just needs to happen. Perhaps we should all take the lesson from the most electrifying man in sports entertainment, not to heart, but to our clouded heads. If the highest paid film actor in the world, that one who looks like he’s carved from marble, that guy who’s most marketable asset is his undiminishable smile can also be pursued by the same dog, and live to tell the world about it, then maybe we can do the same.

Know your role and shut your mouth, depression.

 

 

 

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