Chapter 8: At the Crossroads

18+ / Explicit content.

I was sitting at home holding my phone. A text had just come in. I threw the phone at my armchair again. Didn’t respond to the text. It was Wednesday, about 6 or 7 p.m. I was sober. Obviously never far from a wine bottle, though. 

Like a bolt out of the blue, my heart started pounding. It beat so hard I thought I would die. I’ve had thousands of panic attacks. This wasn’t that. This was scary, but also peaceful. It felt like an energy coursing through my body that I couldn’t explain. I can’t explain it even now, so I won’t even try. I’m no teacher, either. I don’t want to be, and I can’t be.

Tell that dragon that God’s gonna cut you down… Tell that dragon.

I was lying on the floor. I couldn’t reach my phone. Would I have called an ambulance? I don’t know. I don’t remember exactly how long this episode went on. I lay on the floor like a knocked-out punching bag. The experience was so personal. For the sake of this “book”, I’m sharing only what I’m trying to understand. But I can never understand everything. I’m just a human being who has been wrong about some things. 

If you didn’t listen to the song just now… Please rewind and do.

The next morning, I flushed all my meds down the toilet. Yeah, that took some time… 

If you’re depressed and are on medication, don’t get me wrong. I’m not telling you to do what I did. I believe you’re the only one who knows when the time is right, if it ever is. And bear in mind that my social security card had the code 112, the one that entitles the user to a discount on hard drugs… I’m not a doctor. But I don’t have that card anymore, and I never will again.

It felt like I wasn’t fighting alone anymore. I spent the next two weeks climbing the walls of my apartment. Sometimes I thought I would die. Shock doesn’t begin to cover it – the withdrawals took me to the gates of Hell and back. During the worst shakes, I’d text Aada. I blamed her. She didn’t answer a single message, and I’m glad she didn’t. I wondered about walking into a hospital. But if I walked there, I’d never be back. I was consoled by the thought that if they were busy, they’d take me in last. Maybe I should just be left in a ditch to die. 

For two weeks, I couldn’t go to work. Buying groceries was hard. Sometimes I left the store running, like I was suffocating inside. No one knew what I was going through.

I watched the music video for Eminem’s “The Way I Am”. He gets heart palpitations at the end, just like the ones I’d had. (Watch the video.) I felt something indescribable. There’s a story to the video that may not click with everybody. But I knew something of what it feels like to be inside that story. Eminem had found a way out from underground. 

I wanted to add another sentence here. I thought long and hard before deleting it. I will share that sentence with someone in person one day, at the right time and place.

I kept listening to Eminem’s song “Not Afraid” over and over. I knew now what my subconscious had felt the first time I heard the song. Cold chills ran through my body. 

Check out the lyrics. The fake king that lied through his teeth. Not getting crowned. Getting capped.

Pretty sure that the dude talking to you there is not exactly Jesus Christ. And sometimes I wanted to string myself up by the neck. But I still knew I was finally going in the right direction. 

Ever so slowly, the withdrawal symptoms faded. I went for a walk in the park. Little kids were playing on the slide. My eyes welled up. How fucking dumb could I be? Traveling all the way across the world in search of treasure. Then poisoning the treasure for years on end with drugs and medication. And the psychologist called me intelligent. Fuck that, I was DUMB AS SHIT.

At times, the sun shone on me through the fir trees. At other times, the tree branches cast a shadow over my head. Why had I never simply stopped to look around before?

I had been sober for a month. I walked to the ATM on Töölö Market Square and withdrew €150. Leather jacket, fresh cologne, and a tram toward Kallio. I’d decided to have sex sober for the first time. Romantic, right?

A young, beautiful woman opened the door and looked at me with suspicion.

“What are you doing here?”

She could sense my nervousness.

“Um, I thought I’d have sex sober for the first time in my life.” 

I was scared stiff.

She didn’t believe me. She thought I had some fucking kink and my line was part of it… It made things easier, actually. 

After sex, we cracked open two cans of Coca-Cola and talked. For the first time, I saw the person beside me. What had her path been like? At least as rocky as mine, I bet. I felt ashamed of my old antics. How many scars had I caused other people?

In the fresh air, I burst into tears. For the first time, I understood the hellish pile of shit I’d been trying to scramble through for years. I don’t know the right keys to press to describe how I felt. After all the bullshit, this was probably my rock bottom after all. 

I walked into a tattoo shop and got an eagle tattoo. I want to fly free and brave like an eagle. I know change has to start from the inside, not your skin. But the transformation had begun.

Over the next month, I experienced every possible emotion. I truly can’t describe what I went through. Taking a new path at a crossroads means having to repair the potholes in your old path, one by one. Sometimes it’s harder to forgive yourself than another person.

I’d bought myself a new tracksuit. I nearly turned back on Aleksanterinkatu. But I couldn’t do that anymore. I’d listened to “Walk the Line” by Johnny Cash in the morning. This was the only way. Otherwise, I couldn’t solve the equation. Maybe you get what I’m trying to say. I’d already bought the chocolates and the cute t-shirt. I was scared like a little child. I was on my way to Aada’s fitness class. 

My heart rate was 178 for the whole hour. And it wasn’t because of the spinning bike. After class, I waited for the others to leave. Then I walked calmly up to Aada.

“I did pretty well, right?”

“Yeah, you’ve lost weight.”

I gave her my gift. She turned her back. Why the pounding heart, if our paths won’t join? I didn’t get it. As Kid Rock sings, only God knows why…

She handed me a box of darkness. It took me months to realize that it was a gift. 

And you probably won’t read this book again…

But you still brought out the best in me. I guess you were a little angel in my life. Our paths will never cross again. I believe things are good on the path you’re on.

Summer came. Winter came. Winter always follows summer in case you didn’t know. The puzzle was almost complete. I don’t know, maybe I’d been looking at it from the wrong angle the whole time. 

I trained as a fitness coach and sports massage therapist. Physical work, but pretty nice. I pushed myself to get back into top shape. When I’m on the leg press, I still sometimes think about the time I stubbed cigarettes out on my palm. And suddenly 500 pounds feels easy. I throw down with my demons every day at the gym. It’s my way of defeating them. Someone else will have some other way. 

I always listen to music when I’m giving a massage, by the way. I don’t know, maybe that means my journey isn’t finished yet. My soul, my hunger isn’t sated.

I’ve heard someone say, “The people who have suffered the most make the best healers.” I don’t know about that. I do know how to relieve shoulder tension. It’s not rocket science. 

Nowadays, I see and consider every person to be valuable and perfect just as they are. It’s probably the reason why I feel I’m good at my job. I have a lot of nice clients. Do they know my background? Some of them do. Some will have a heart attack after this book… Nah, I don’t actually think they will. 

Sometimes I get “reprimanded” at work because my clients’ laughter echoes through the halls. I find strength in being able to help a client. That’s how life works. It just took me a surprisingly long time to understand that. And I often get clients who say, “I don’t normally talk during a massage. I don’t know what came over me.”

If this message in a bottle reaches one of them, will I be out of a job? Will someone say something? I don’t know. Have I thought about it? Many times. Massage therapy is a job where you’re trying to help another person. Make them feel relaxed. Maybe release an emotional block. I once told a client, “Listen to your heart, not your friends.” How can I help anyone else if I don’t believe in my own thing? 

I asked a friend of mine who sets up huge business mergers, “Will I lose my clients?” What’s a businessman’s perspective, you know.

“In my job I’ve learned to see at least three steps ahead. I think you’ll find it’s the other way around. You’ll get more clients. As long as you don’t end up back where the book started, you’ll be just fine.”

To tell you the truth, it helped me a lot that my friends didn’t judge me. I’ve had several dinners where no one has judged me, in fact, they’ve sometimes even praised me. Thank you for that, friends.

And this is what I want to say to you specifically. Having even one person who sees you and connects with you face-to-face is more important than five thousand hearts on Instagram. And remember, if you’re being yourself and things don’t work out between you and your crush, then maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Someone else will come along and the chemistry will be there. But if you hide behind a mask, you’ll never know if you would have hit it off. I can tell you from experience that that fucking sucks.

Huh, I just thought of something… Well, maybe it’s not too late yet. At least the mask is off now…

You know that feeling when you’re driving down a narrow dirt road on a motorcycle? And all you can think about is how fast this thing can accelerate? I’ve had that feeling for a long time. You have to shoot the butterflies out of your stomach and into the sky.

I called the man who took me home from LA. Ranan was delighted to hear from me.

“Such a gentleman, thanking me like that.”

I suggested dinner at an artistic place somewhere. I was thinking Elite myself. It’s close to where I live now. My one-bedroom apartment is clean and nice. The kitchen renovation was just finished according to my own specs. The kitchen counter is really damn high… A bedspread made by a real Indian tribe. All my stuff in order. But even now, Ranan didn’t let me off easy.

“If you want somewhere artistic, let’s go to the Kamppi Service Centre.”

The place for pensioners and unemployed people. Fuck. I knew what Ranan meant immediately. He’d given me the rope to hang myself with. The butterflies wouldn’t leave my stomach that easily. 

Had he made similar mistakes to mine in his life? How did he always come up with this insights like this? I guess everyone will see these things differently.

Maybe I could help another human being? In a different way. Without touching their muscles. 

Sometimes I watched the starry sky at night. I’d gained more insight into life. I knew I was just one person. I can’t make an impact any other way except by being as good a person as I can. And I don’t mean sucking up to people. That breaks you.

Johnny Cash said, “Sinners make the best saints.” I can share my own view on that in fifty-three years. 

Will there be days when I stray from this path of light? I can’t promise you there won’t be. The way I see it, the wonders of the world are right in front of us. We’re just so focused on our own goals that we forget to live. Sometimes we forget that we can actually see the treasure in the mirror. Over eight billion treasures in this world. I’m sure you understand I mean people. Gold isn’t treasure. Though of course everybody needs money to live. When you don’t have any, you often end up using all your energy to get it. 

But you can’t buy a personality, manners, charisma. They’re in your soul. You have to earn them. And you don’t need money to get them. It just takes hard work, every single day. You can look up at the stars and wish for one. But what if the star is in your soul already? Just keep polishing that one, day in, day out. Others will see it shining in your eyes.

For people who suffer from anxiety. My advice is to take a beat. Look at the little kid in line at the supermarket, which ice cream did he pick? Why? Hold the door open for an old lady. Look at her smile when she says thank you. The walls won’t cave in on you when you live in the moment. Open your eyes, look at the world. You’re perfect just the way you are.

I’m not a particularly clever person, but I believe that spirituality is presence. It’s looking another human being in the eye. Not looking over them into the sky. I’ve made that mistake once and paid a hell of a price for it. If you look at the state of the world, it’s clear that many people “compose while deaf”. Israel, Gaza, the situation is tragic. I know the history of the area is complicated. I just wish both sides had strong enough leaders to try leading with love. 

That takes so much more strength and courage than hate. Everybody knows bullies don’t exactly have high self-esteem. I’m convinced that those who live by the sword, die by the sword. You saw what happened to me when I grabbed a sword. I’m the wrong person to judge anyone, that’s how wrong I was. And sometimes, we may still wonder how dictators succeed and stay in power. But I’m a hundred percent sure that a man who lives by the sword can never be happy.

I could list seven famous artists here who have also composed while deaf. But that’s not my job. If you’ve been listening to the songs here, you may already know five. I don’t think Kanye West would hold it against me if I say “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” and “Jesus Walks” are about the same thing that put me into the hospital. If you ever listen to “Jesus Walks”, maybe now you’ll understand something I didn’t before. I won’t comment on Kanye’s well-being. I don’t know anything about it. But when you come out of the darkness into the light, and suddenly you can’t even grab a coffee in peace without having a hundred people filming you… It would probably take a lot less for a person to start wondering why the darkness won’t go away, even though I’ve already stepped into the light.

In fact, Kanye looks like he’s doing pretty well now. My heart goes out to you, Kanye. You have so many amazing songs. Thank you for those.

Rick Rubin seems like an extremely intelligent and good-natured person based on his interviews. I find it strange that people don’t ask him where all his wisdom comes from. I don’t believe anyone can come by that kind of insight without walking through the shadow of the valley of death. I could be wrong of course. In fact, something he said has been an important guideline for me: “The audience comes last.”

You can’t look for acceptance in other people. It’s enough to give it to yourself. Maybe that’s what Rick Rubin meant.

I believe in love. It means understanding that we’re all equal regardless of religion, skin color, sexual orientation. It’s accepting the other person. Understanding that the reason people behave the way they do might be a consequence of their own rocky roads. You can’t judge someone’s religion based on the actions of a handful of angry, bitter people. What’s crazier than driving a tank over treasures? All the while going on about peace and a better world. Does that require courage? 

It’s just as misleading as Andrew Tate’s “alpha male” culture for incel men. 

True courage is walking among the weapons holding a peace pipe. True courage is owning up to your mistakes and apologizing. True courage is forgiving, not retaliating with a sword.

Obviously, I understand that things are complicated. I myself would rather work in a pizza parlor than be the president of Finland. Aleksander Stubb is doing good work, though. And he’s a HIFK Hockey fan, too…

All of us have feelings, regardless of skin color, religion, sexual orientation. What the fuck happened to us? Showing our feelings is now considered a weakness? We’ll even medicate ourselves to repress them. We talk about economic cycles on the news all day long. Then we wonder why the number of applications for disability pensions keeps rising. We don’t know how to change our point of view. How privileged we are to be able to work. Where are the leaders who make sure that work can be fun, too? Life isn’t just an endless performance review until you reach retirement. What’s waiting for you at the finish line? Heart medication, a pension, a prosthetic hip and a wife whose sense of humor dried up thirty-five years ago. All of which you notice only after you can’t get off your couch anymore. 

I was crazy enough to book an appointment with the doctor who told me I needed to stay on medication for the rest of my life. 

The doctor: “And how are you?”

Me: “I’m good. I threw away the pills you told me to take for the rest of my fucking life. And I battled my demons and won. Knocked them out, one by one. And on top of that, I think I’m taking Eminem’s hand now, for real. So I don’t give a fuck what you think anymore.”

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Listen, after everything you’ve been through, it’s OK to take pills.”

“Listen, doctor. Shall we have a line of cocaine and book a flight to Ibiza? I promise we’ll get you a diagnosis or two as well.”

The doctor didn’t take me up on my offer… And I wouldn’t have, either. I’m not going back underground. 

Who knows, we might have come back in a coffin.

“By the way, which pharmaceutical companies do you invest in? Oh, right, the ones whose pills you prescribe.” Sorry, I had to get one last dig in there.

Depression, mental breakdown, stupidity… If you ask me, my problem was the latter. 

It’s like a broken ankle. It’ll get better. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Every crisis in life helps us grow. Turns us into deeper, more interesting people. Of course, I know nothing about being seriously ill. And you can’t solve everything all at once. There will always be new challenges. And there will always be new sources of joy.

You know that feeling when you go out to eat with your friends? What makes a good night? Food, company, the smile of a waiter, the atmosphere. The whole shebang, right? What makes for a good book? The same thing, it takes collaboration. Of course, if the food really sucks, it’s hard to have a good night. The same goes for this book. But I assume that if you’ve come this far, I still have a small chance of offering you a good reading experience. 

Maybe you’ve already figured out that I’m going to ask something of you. But only if you believe it might help somebody else. And only if you can keep a promise. I know, you’re confused. We’re nearly at the finish line.

I’m starting to get nervous. What’s this all gonna come to? Marshall. I’m trying to make it in my own shoes now. You found pretty big shoes to fill. Maybe for a reason, who knows? But I hope you keep rapping until you’re ninety years old. The members of The Rolling Stones are cool, still out there touring. There’s no difference between rock and rap if you ask me. Why couldn’t an 80-year-old rapper stay cool on stage? A rolling stone gathers no moss.

I do wonder why I got my particular shoes. But it would feel wrong not to have the courage to put them on. They’re my own shoes after all. It’s just that these laces are pretty hard to tie. And I’m kind of scared of tripping over them. And I don’t even understand why I’m still here to put them on at all.

I was on a bike ride with my brother’s kids and told them about this book. Should I publish it? The 6-year-old said, “Yeah, good idea, but watch the road, you’re riding on the sidewalk.” That was the clincher. That sentence had more insight than my whole book. 

This kid taught me what love is, by the way. I’m grateful to have experienced it. It’s when you love someone else more than yourself. You wish them well, even though they’re not beside you. If I myself don’t find love like that in this life, then I’m totally fine with that. It’s the only kind of love I want.

Both my brother’s kids taught me that. Believe it or not, these rug rats actually like me. They even laugh at my jokes. When they’re twenty, I’ll give them this book. And then we’ll talk. I’m pretty sure they won’t touch drugs after that.

Is there a way to have both – crazy adventures and the white doves of peace? Do they go together or destroy one another? She’d have to be completely nuts, in a way that makes me smile. Very neurotic. And I still wouldn’t know how to be with her, and that would scare me. But if I wasn’t with her, I’d be scared of losing my path. And I can’t think of a single reason why she should trust a lunatic like me. But she would smell good, kind of like home. 

I’ve never gone in for the Instagram/Tinder world. I sold a good-looking car once. The engine had all kinds of faults. I felt shitty for months afterward. If someone approaches me at a bar, though, well, that’s not my fault. Grown-ups are responsible for their own choices…