In his own words: Out of the darkness and into the light

News | January 18, 2017

Editor’s note: Ben Bruster and two of his classmates stood in front of a packed room of friends and strangers on Wednesday at Augustana College. They were there to present Im-Perfect: Living with Mental Illness. They told their own stories, in hopes of encouraging others who struggle and those who are or wish to be allies. Below are excerpts from Ben’s story.

Beep, beep; beep, beep. It’s 8 o’clock. My alarm clock lets out a strident shrill and then proceeds to blast the local radio station’s obnoxious morning show. Startled, I lifelessly reach across my body and punch the beckoning snooze button. Groaning, I roll over, close my eyes, and continue to lie there—eyes flickering and half asleep. This carousel persists for a while.

Beep, beep. Tap. Beep, beep. Tap. Beep, beep. Tap. And so it goes.

Meanwhile, as the sun rises from its daily slumber, its rays begin to viciously pour in through the small cracks between my blinds and the edge of each windowpane. Reflecting off of my freshly waxed floor, these rays mystically transmute into an intense form of shame as they pass through the air. And like a cup, I fill up. With each passing second, minute, and hour, I near the brim and ultimately overflow; shame envelopes me. Why weren’t you strong enough to get up this morning, Ben? This is the third time this week, I think to myself. With this, as the sun approaches high noon, I force my feeble, shame-filled existence to get up and start another day.


I peer into the mirror and am startled. My deep blue eyes, like seas of melancholy, pierce my outer shell, leaving me exposed, wounded, vulnerable. Who am I to wear this pasted-on smile with such frequency? Does anyone actually know the true me? In public, I’m cheerful, strong, and composed; I gift smiles, handshakes, and good conversation. But behind closed doors, I am often a different person: afflicted, restricted, and immersed in sorrow. Hell, too many days I think, “I don’t know if I want to be up tomorrow.” Suicide, of course, is NOT the answer. But it sure would be nice to experience something other than this pain and set back that I experience so often. I remain in this state, slumped over and apathetic, staring blankly into the mirror while also aiming to dodge its vicious glances.

At this moment a frantic message surfaces from inward: distract yourself and keep fighting. Sheepishly changing into my gym clothes, I prepare to engage these forces on two fronts—in my head and with my body. Grabbing my iPhone and earbuds, I begin to browse for today’s exercise anthem. Scrolling through my library, I eventually set my sights on Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright.” Kendrick is a fighter and always has a way with words, I reckon. The music proceeds to blast as I fiercely churn my limbs to set the elliptical machine into rhythm.

“Do you hear me, do you feel me? We gon’ be alright.”


At best, perhaps I’ll become an influential professor, I think to myself. Maybe I’ll improve someone’s life with my words and my heart. Heck, maybe my twisted thoughts will be the key to my career success? I’ll trade a social life, a family, happiness, and overall health for painstaking intrigue, intertwined with obsession, I muse. Or, at worst, I’ll be locked up and deemed “crazy” by society, I continue to think. For years, I lived out this conundrum, feeling that I must choose between these unsatisfactory options.

For the first two years of college and beforehand, this mentality predominated: one or the other. One or the other, the thought echoed between my hemispheres. Gravely out of balance, I violently teetered between extremes. Consequently, at times I ate, drank, watched Netflix, and frivolously planned dream vacations, to escape from the eviscerating pain and obsession that menaced my very being. Of course, as any escapist knows, these efforts proved utterly fruitless in the long term. In fact, emotional and behavioral profligacy only amplified my feelings of loneliness and dejection. Prolonged lows always followed my short-term highs; and the trade off simply wasn’t worth it.

Knowing this, I sought to live differently. But to do this, I first needed to be honest with myself, to face the me that once only existed in the shadows.

“There’s always been something more than depression,” I emotionally responded to my father, as he questioned me. “What do you mean?” he probed with care and concern. “Dad, I’m pretty sure that I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,” I replied with a quiver. On an unforgettable day in early June last year, I proceeded to illuminate a part of me previously unknown to anyone. For years, I somehow kept the darkest part of me clandestine. Though there were many near breaks, at this point I still enjoyed being perceived as composed, normal, sane. On that day in early June, however, I painfully expended a rare sob, and let it all out.


So here I was, stuck in this rat race: anxiety, depression, obsessive thoughts, poor health, low self-esteem… anxiety, depression, obsessive thoughts, poor health, low self-esteem…anxiety, depression, obsessive thoughts, poor health, low self-esteem… and the wheels on the bus go round and round. By June 2016, I had lived with this for more than a decade. This cycle and my faulty management of it had stolen the richness and enjoyment of life away from me time after time again—not to mention that it had negatively impacted those around me for just as long. But I was not about to give in—to remain silent—for one more day. I knew what I needed to do: I must be honest, confront my imperfections, and learn to effectively cope, I thought. And so I did.

Over the course of last summer I became a gym rat, an aspiring writer, a healthy eater, a reserved socialite, and a conversation starter. I could not boast an impressive internship or job. But the fruits of my labor gifted me so much more. I learned to, perhaps for the first time, take care of my essential needs (mental, physical, and emotional). Concurrently, as I had previously suspected, I also learned that my path to “recovery” (as it is so often described in self-help literature) would, from here on out, be an intensive effort to live and adapt to my everyday internal and external environments. Thus, my path to “recovery” would instead become a grand effort to cope and stretch myself beyond what I previously thought imaginable, whereby learning to mitigate the severity and frequency of my afflictions.


By definition, my efforts have frequently been accompanied by setbacks and imperfections.

In fact, mid-way through last fall term, while I was on study abroad in China, I developed a three-and-a-half week depression, over which I periodically, and seriously contemplated suicide. But, as I had felt many times before and since, I knew that for some special reason I must live—that the world needs me, Ben Bruster—and only Ben Bruster—for that special reason. Thankfully, with the loving support of some incredible friends, these thoughts and my melancholy subsided.

I was fortunate to experience nearly two months mostly free of depression and obsessive thoughts. Yet, as expected, these forces resurfaced. Family turmoil, wintertime languor, and vigorously revitalized obsessive thoughts bred disaster. Visions of my own death and destruction reached their zenith as I plummeted towards my nadir. Somehow though, with the grace of God and incredible love and support from my parents, friends, professors and others, I survived winter break—and am surviving today.

I continue to feel the effects of this almost-daily depression and obsession. Nevertheless—slowly, ever so slowly, I am learning to how to separate and quiet my cancerous thoughts, how to love myself, and how to live healthy and be happy. Every day I arrive to school early and begin to mentally prepare for another chance, a new day, a wonderful life. While hiking from the Centennial parking to my first class in the Swenson Hall of Geosciences, I am reminded of my experiences on Mt. Fuji. Life is filled plenty of rocks, stumbles, and uphill climbs.  But with the correct support system, tools, and necessary vulnerability, I’m “gon’ be alright.”

18 Comments on “In his own words: Out of the darkness and into the light”

  • Sarah Masterson

    February 9, 2017 at 1:51 pm

    Thank you for sharing. I struggle with anxiety and depression from that anxiety as well. Know that you are not alone in this fight!

  • Eric Bruster

    January 23, 2017 at 6:37 pm

    Hi Ben. I stand with you and I am not alone in this regard. You did not put your story on the Internet to please me. I am much too cautious to take such a step. That ship has sailed anyway by your unselfish act. I know you want to help others who also hurt. This is a noble cause. As your dad, however, my sentiments lie first and foremost with your well-being rather than a ’cause’ to get behind. It’s not that causes are bad, it’s just that sometimes they try to reach out to everyone at the expense of reaching out to someone. You are that someone to me. I hope that people reach out to you. Several have already and friendship is a beautiful thing. Being along sucks. Did you like that last part?

  • Jim Case

    January 21, 2017 at 6:31 pm

    Proud of you Ben . You are an amazing man. God does have great plans for you. Thanks for sharing.

  • Darla DeVriendt

    January 21, 2017 at 11:51 am

    You are an amazing courageous young man that has survived so many obstacles and never gave up! Continue sharing your story and Words of wisdom to others that may be struggling. Your story has touched me personally as we lost our son! Continue to lean on God! Thank you for sharing Ben.

  • Meredith Bruster

    January 20, 2017 at 9:40 pm

    Your courage to openly share your story and to love others is incredible. You have so many reasons to be proud of yourself. I am so thankful to have you as a brother. Love you to the moon and back

  • Tom Hebbeln

    January 20, 2017 at 9:16 am

    You right Ben…you gonna be alright!

  • Marlene Marolf

    January 20, 2017 at 9:09 am

    Ben I remember so well our Africa trip. We had so much fun but something seem not quit right.
    Just call it a Mom knows. I am so glad you are addressing these issues. Friends in Peace Love Marlene God Bless.

    ber many people love and care for you. we are budd

  • Vicki Hall

    January 19, 2017 at 10:08 pm

    Ben, I am so proud of your honesty and candor. You know, I love you like a son and will always make the time for you to vent a frustration or celebrate a success. You are an exceptional man who I have no doubt will influence the hearts and minds of countless young people should you pursue professorship, but wherever God leads you, you will flourish!!! Count me in as one of your biggest cheerleaders my honorary Son. I could not be more proud of your words this week. You are supported and by us, your loving family, and by your Heavenly Father.

  • Leigh Hoover

    January 19, 2017 at 9:40 pm

    Ben for years I have seen and chatted with you at various events at church and school. I would have never guessed you were struggling wiith these issues. You always seem happy, cheerful and outgoing like a bright ray of sunshine. I applaud your courage to tell your story. It not only helps you it will help many others some struggling as yourself and others to open there eyes to understand what some folks are going through. You are a blessing to all of us!! Keep the courage, keep strong in faith and keep fighting!

  • Debbie Case

    January 19, 2017 at 8:56 pm

    What courage and strength you have shown in sharing your story! You are a gift to all who know you. When I see you, I see a young man that God will use to help and serve others. I see a smile that brings joy to the receiver. And on those dark days dear Ben, never forget that you are loved by God and those who believe your life is a life of purpose. I am one of those people. May God bless you with Light that will shine within you and through you.

  • Cindee Schnekloth

    January 19, 2017 at 8:51 pm

    Thankful for you and your message! God bless and wishing you a wonderful future!

  • Joan Bruce

    January 19, 2017 at 8:39 pm

    Oh, Ben. I was riveted to your story of your courageous journey. You are a wonderful young man, and I am honored to call you my friend. Thank you for so bravely sharing. I know that God, your family, and your friends and acquaintances will continue to be with you. Ben, you are a very gifted writer.

  • K J Rebarcak

    January 19, 2017 at 8:01 pm

    Ben, your story brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for having the courage to share it. The more we bring stories like these out into the light, the more we can use our own experiences to help others. Keep fighting the good fight. Progress is never linear but it is always progress. You are winning the battle and making others winners in the process. May God bless and keep you!

  • Krist Masterson

    January 19, 2017 at 7:05 pm

    Thank you so much for sharing your story! I really appreciate your honesty and bravery!

  • Bonnie Fox

    January 19, 2017 at 4:10 pm

    Wow! Thank you so much for your remarkable story! You are a very gifted writer and I will remember your courage in sharing. May God continue to bring you peace and happiness as you continue on your journey.

  • Kathy Bucciferro

    January 19, 2017 at 3:52 pm

    Ben you are a wonderful young man with so many opportunities ahead of you! You bring so much joy to others just by being your kind and thoughtful self. Thank you for bravely sharing your struggle and allowing those of us who love you to also carry your burden in prayer. God Bless you Ben.

  • Darlene Schluensen

    January 19, 2017 at 2:54 pm

    You’re so right…The world needs Ben Bruster! Everyone who loves you, needs you!!! You are a young man filled with courage and so much love to give. The world needs you Ben Bruster!!! You ARE “gon’ be alright.” As God continues to give you His blessings, stay strong and feel His love.

  • Heidi Watkins

    January 19, 2017 at 1:40 pm

    Thank you for having the courage to share your journey, Ben. You are amazing…and a gifted writer, I might add! Keep the faith.

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