RIP Keith Flint

"If people find me scary, fuck 'em."

Today the horrible news broke that Keith Flint, the singer from The Prodigy, had died, according to his bandmate Liam Howlett by suicide, at the age of 49.

Whilst I was never a hardcore fan of The Prodigy, Keith made a big impression of me. I'll never forget being a wee boy and watching the video for Firestarter - those wild, piercing eyes almost burning a hole through the TV screen, the stars-and-stripes top and the double-mohawk. Then there was the song itself - the venom and vitriol behind his lyrics. There was something about it which resonated with me. The raw energy behind their songs and seeing how much the three of them put into their work.

Sadly this once again brings us to another situation where we are mourning another tragic loss. Once again it is only after the passing of someone that the conversation about depression and mental health begins for most. It was the same after Robin Williams, after Chris Cornell and after Chester Bennington. We need to start addressing all areas of mental health in an open and sincere manner. Encouraging people to reach out, whilst a good starting point, is simply not enough. There often isn't enough support there for someone after they do reach out in terms of treatment and support, and the stigma attached to the subject often puts many off reaching out in the first place. We need to start having uncomfortable and difficult conversations.

If you are struggling, please do reach out. Please have these conversations. Please keep fighting. Admitting you are fighting this battle is not an admission of defeat nor is it a sign of weakness; it is a show of strength. Fighting this battle is a scary thing to do, but you shouldn't feel scared to admit you're fighting it.

If anyone makes you feel that way, fuck 'em.

Fuck it and fight it.
RIP Keith Flint.

NHS

Three times in my life I've saught help with my mental health through the NHS when I've found myself in bad places. Not just feeling sad or lethargic. Places that were so dark, bleak and scary the prospect of making it out seemed at times non-existent.

The first two times I was put on a waiting list and seen over three months after seeking help. The third I was just given contact details for private counselling (don't get me wrong, great if you can afford it) as I was apologetically informed by a GP that I essentially wasn't depressed enough to warrant treatment through the NHS according to the protocols and procedures they have in place.

I want to clarify that I am a massive supporter of the NHS - without it I almost certainly wouldn't be here today and am not sharing this story to have a go at the NHS. Rather the government and organisations that are strangling it.

Despite the amount of media attention and column inches dedicated to politicians tackling the "ticking time-bomb of mental health" as they often refer to it, the simple fact is this:

Not enough is being done. Far from it.

Someone's mental health and wellbeing should never be used as some political tool to steal votes with empty promises.  It should be treated with the same seriousness we treat physical health. But we are nowhere near that yet.