By Beau Forbes
In the last five hours of a nineteen hour short film shoot, I had to leave the set because I could not remember long periods of time. I was told that some of us had napped and eaten at about 2:00AM, but I had no memory of either. Unfortunately, I had no idea if I had taken my epilepsy medication that day or night due to the length and demands of the shoot. Most of my close network of filmmaking friends and colleagues was working with me.
There was a certain need to stay as long as possible in a competitive world where the only currency that truly matters is getting credit. Well, credit and hours put in. I felt that if you lose your network, or if people do not have good things to say about you, then you have nothing whatsoever. That night, I had a panic attack and a seizure.
I did not receive credit for the work I did because the project was never released. A coworker recently reminded me of an old saying that is very true in the film world. Your net worth is your network. By the time I left that set and because of what happened, I knew I was completely screwed when it came to future work.
I think it is important to contextualize my journey as one layered in how I fell in love with cinema as a whole. My story is as much about chronic illness and mental health struggles as it is about overcoming hurdles and breaking down barriers.
I was diagnosed with epilepsy at thirteen years old, and from that point on I spent a ton of time in and out of hospitals trying to get it under control. I spent countless hours inside machines with wires connected to my brain as doctors tried to figure out my triggers and why certain medications were not working.
Then I would have a seizure and get a concussion, end up in a hospital bed with wires connected to my head while I watched movies, and then have lights flashing a million miles an hour to try to trigger another seizure. Then I would leave with post concussion syndrome. Rinse, repeat.
That continued for about a year and a half. My neurologist said I was likely in some form of concussive state, either actively concussed or recovering from one, for about eighteen months straight. I struggled with depression throughout that time, but what helped me through were movies, my older brother, and my father.
Years before I was diagnosed with epilepsy, my brother and I dealt with my parents separating. My dad was fighting for custody while my mom was struggling with addiction and an abusive relationship. My brother and I witnessed a lot of difficult things. During that time, we fell in love with movies because they were both a fantasy and an escape. To this day, we still talk about the first time we saw many of those films as kids.
This was also when my depression really started. I think it came from having to take care of ourselves at such a young age. My mom is doing much better now. She turned her life around and eventually got back together with my dad.
That said, I remember my father crying as he prepared us for how toxic it could be when we went back to her house. He legally had to take us back, and we both remember how scary it could be at times. My big brother always protected me back then, and in some ways, that never stopped.
In my mid twenties, I was officially diagnosed with ADHD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, and dystonic twitches, none of which surprised me. Growing up, I was kicked out of classes for being “disruptive.” The only place I really felt like I could contribute was by bringing creativity to group projects.
I attempted suicide twice in my life. Once, I told my family. The other time, I suffered in silence.
I powered through and built myself back up with the help of my friends and family. Today, I work a full time job while also creating social media content that helps student athletes gain exposure through videos and mini documentaries.
It is also incredibly inspiring for my son and me. We have become a father son content creation duo who practice together, play football together, and watch him train alongside professional athletes.
I have a renewed sense of energy and purpose, not just to educate people about chronic illness and mental health struggles in the creative space, but to empower those already in that space to advocate for themselves, receive fair treatment, and be paid what they are truly worth.
I write this today as a father and husband who still struggles with impostor syndrome and with coming to grips with happiness. But every day I wake up, grab my camera and my notepad, and keep creating.
I know there are kids out there like me who need the films I make, the comfort they bring, and the silly moving pictures I piece together in the editing room.
My favorite movie of all time is Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas because it takes so many creative chances and swings so big that it should not work, yet somehow it does.
I beg you to take creative chances because, now more than ever, the world needs vulnerable creators who are willing to take big swings. Picture your younger self, remember what they loved, and go make it.
If I can do it, then you can too. And if you ever need someone to talk to, you can reach out to me on Instagram. Literally anyone can message me and tell me they need to talk, and I will be there.
A special thank you to my first movie star and best friend, Ally. Another special thank you to my older brother, Zach, for always protecting me and helping me become the person I am today. Thank you to my wife, Cailin, and my son, Brayden, who show me never ending love and support. And finally, even with all our flaws, I want to thank my entire family for standing by me when I needed them most, and for continuing to do so today.
