Not too long ago, I would have given anything to spend more time with my video game consoles. I never intended to make my earthshaking Xbox 360 purr like a kitten, but I had dreams of experiencing every great game in existence.
Obviously, this goal was unrealistic, and it didn't take college and work into account, but I felt it was a prerequisite for becoming a great games writer; not in the sense of grammatical accuracy or wittiness, but in being able to provide fair criticism. I never expected it would occur with my perfectionist attitude towards school and work, but eventually, it did.
During my last year of college, I decided I wanted to write for EGM, so I started composing newspaper articles and user reviews in preparation. Devoting an hour or two a week to video game writing wasn't enough, however, so I planned on digging into my enormous backlog upon graduating if I couldn't land a writing gig right away.
Unfortunately, I had an unexpectedly complicated summer and fall, which left me with little time to play and review games until 2009 came along. Once I actually found time to experience titles in my backlog and wonderful new releases, it was underwhelming.
It's not that games such as 'Splosion Man, New Super Mario Bros. Wii, and Psychonauts didn't excite me; it was my poor health that made it difficult to have a pleasant experience. Serious medical conditions I'd developed prior to my college graduation were the culprits.
I experienced a number of unusual (and sometimes unresolved) health problems as a kid, but I'd learned to tolerate abnormal illnesses such as vomiting several times a day for a month and being unable to breathe and sleep at night after coming into contact with grass pollen and dust due to a family that didn't believe in using medication. I just kept dealing with struggles head-on and used video games as a release from life's pressures whenever I had a spare moment.
When I developed a condition at the age of 17 that caused me to have excruciating stomach pain and digestion problems so severe I no longer felt like eating, I still had a safe haven in video games. It was an incredibly frustrating time with doctors of various backgrounds unable to identify the problem, and friends and family unaware of the pain I was in. Fortunately, video games helped me during this five year struggle until my problem was partially remedied with a surgery.
Video games made my busy schedule and pain tolerable for awhile, but a new problem arose during one of my summer jobs that would negatively impact my experience with games for years to come.
During the summer of 2006, I developed a brutal headache that was usually at its worst after I got home from my painting job. My stiff neck and unexplainable head pain made it difficult to work and relax, even with beautiful 2D action-RPGs such as Odin Sphere.
Initially, I received chiropractic adjustments, but the pain only temporarily diminished. My headaches soon developed into a 24/7 problem that carried on from 2006 into the present.
These headaches made it painful to sit and stand, and the only place I could find a little comfort was in my sleep. Activities I previously enjoyed such as reading, video games, and writing became incredibly difficult with an ever-present headache that altered my vision, ability to remember, and even made following stationary text challenging.
Playing first-person shooters or other games that required quick reflexes was even more of a burden, because it was difficult to follow fast-moving objects with my newfound head, neck, and eye pain. Eventually, smiling even became painful, because of the tightness of my jaw (which was later partially remedied with ten weeks of intense therapy).
Worse than my headaches, however, was my ever-deepening depression, severe anxiety, and insomnia. I had a certain degree of depression and feelings of extreme loneliness from a young age, but I often managed to shield myself by working hard and keeping my mind busy. I didn't know I was experiencing depression symptoms at that time, because I was told such a condition wasn't real.
I mostly shrugged it off during my late teenage years and early twenties by outwardly appearing bold and by using my interests to escape, but three years ago, I broke down. I was never a very openly emotional person, but my body soon completely lost the ability to express genuine happiness and sadness. The only emotion I could outwardly express was anger, and that was only when it had built up to an extreme degree. What people didn't realize, however, was that a deep internal sadness had overwhelmed me.
My depression affected my entire worldview. The slightest injustice in the world would fill me with rage and sadness. Bullies, greedy individuals, and intolerant people had always infuriated me, but it wasn't until 2007 that hopelessness and despair had conquered my thoughts.
