Ash Diggs is funny. So funny in fact that one of his jobs is to make people laugh. He’s a stand-up comedian who grew up in the South, moved to Queens, New York in 2021 but hails from Vermont. We speak with Ash about the relationship between comedy, addiction and depression, and how art can be both an enabler and a healer.
This is the latest episode of Homegoings, a podcast that features fearless conversations about race, and YOU are welcome here.Follow the series here.
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Night after night on stage, comedian Ash Diggs shows us his pain, candidly. And as a now-fan of his work, I gotta say he seems to do it with such ease. But, he’s the first to say that this road to the stage of comedy? Hasn’t really been that funny. Or easy.
People like Ash are kind of my entire inspiration for starting this show. Because yes, he’s Black, yes, he’s interesting — but he’s also somehow just so unapologetically human — first. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who understands their demons so well. He doesn’t deny them, explain them away. He owns them. Leashes them and takes them out for a walk on stage from time to time — for the sake of a laugh.
To be clear, Ash’s demons have names. They are: depression, addiction, self-harm and thoughts of suicide. And, Ash and I will dig into all of these in our conversation today. So, take good care while listening and/or reading, and find some helpful resources below if, like Ash, you are struggling with any of these same demons.
“Coming on stage and reaching out my hand and asking for someone to reach back out to me is is me trying to keep myself here.”Ash Diggs
If you or someone you know is in crisis, help is available:
- National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
- Click here for an online chat with the the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
- Veterans Crisis Line & Military Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255, press 1
- LGTBQ crisis line: 866-488-7386
- Crisis Text Line: text "VT" to 741-741
- Resources with the Vermont Suicide Prevention Center
- SAMHSA National Helpline: Substance use treatment and information call 1-800-662-4357
Note: Our show is made for the ear. We highly recommend pressing play on the audio posted here. For accessibility, we also provide a transcript of the episode. Transcripts are generated using a combination of robots and human transcribers. They may contain errors, so please check the corresponding audio before quoting in print.
Ash Diggs
Myra Flynn: A heads up, there’s gonna some cursing in this episode. I left it unbleeped because sometimes — people be cussin'. That’s just how they talk.
Myra Flynn: Can you tell me a joke?.
Ash Diggs: Oh man. Can I tell you a joke. I guess maybe a quick one would be something happened to me recently, I was feeling depressed because I go on Instagram and someone that I was in a serious relationship with in college had gotten married. So I did the mature thing. And like all the photos of the honeymoon at 2 am. Because I was like, you know, it hit me hard because I was like, wow, that could have been me. And then I woke up today, and she had liked a bunch of my pictures back on Instagram. And I was like, Yo, maybe that could still be me. I think I'm gonna go fuck up a honeymoon after this interview.
Myra: Oh gosh.
Ash: But like, I feel like I always kind of wilt a little bit when someone asks me straight up to tell them a joke, because I am very much like a story, like I, for better or worse, I love to tell the story. And that tends to be how I – how I joke on stage. So I have friends who are like, one-liner comics and or even just quicker, wittier comics than I am. If you ask them to tell you a joke, they can just boom hit you with setup and punchline. Whereas I'm kind of like, OK, you want to hear a joke? Do you have one to four minutes?
Myra: This is Ash Diggs. And he’s funny. So funny in fact that one of his jobs is to make people laugh. He’s a stand-up comedian who grew up in the South, moved to Queens, New York in 2021 but hails from my home state, Vermont. A place we both agree can be a little funny, too, sometimes.
Myra: The South, like everybody there knows their place, you know. And so yeah, it's like scary. But it's also relieving, because you know where your safe places, too. With Vermont you're just like all out in the open, just feeling normal, half day at the co-op, one day bam. The N-word. In the – in the nutritional yeast section. You're like, “What?”
Ash: It's 9 a.m. on a Tuesday?
Myra: People like Ash are kind of my entire inspiration for starting this show. Because yes, he’s Black, yes, he’s interesting — but he’s also somehow just so unapologetically human — first. That vulnerability I’m always searching for. Which I gotta say when it comes to the comedy I’ve witnessed? Is pretty rare. I mean, comedians put a lot of stuff out there for laughs, but it’s not necessarily their stuff. Their truths or their explicit hardships. I mean the whole concept behind crowd-work, when a comedian asks questions of the crowd and then picks on whatever their answer is — is to call out everyone else’s stuff.
But Ash offers his stuff up, willingly. Night after night on stage he shows us his pain, candidly. And as a now-fan of his work, I gotta say he seems to do it with such ease. So I’m glad we sat down for today’s episode so I could take a peek behind the Ash Diggs curtain. But, he’s the first to say that this road to the stage of comedy? Hasn’t really been that funny. Or easy.
Ash: I struggle very heavily with depression and bipolar disorder. I have been dealing with that for a couple of years now.
Myra: Since I sat down with Ash to talk about this relationship between tragedy and comedy, he’s been on my mind a lot. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who understands their demons so well. He doesn’t deny them, explain them away. He owns them. Leashes them and takes them out for a walk on stage from time to time — for the sake of a laugh.
Ash: Basically, here's, here's my deal. I'm a little different right now, you can probably tell what's different about me. I'm not on my meds. Make some noise, we're going crazy …
Myra: To be clear, Ash’s demons have names. They are: depression, addiction, self-harm and thoughts of suicide. And, Ash and I will dig into all of these in our conversation today. So, take good care while listening, and check out our credits at the end of the episode for some information that may be helpful, if like Ash — you are struggling with any of these same demons.
Because as we well know, when it comes to these struggles? Ash is not alone.
Marc Maron, Craig Ferguson, Chris Farley, Fuquan Johnson, John Mulaney, Matthew Perry.
These are a handful of comedians who have wrestled with addiction and depression. In fact, mental health issues and substance misuse is not uncommon in the world of comedy, which has a reputation of making famous brilliant minds, who are also struggling deeply. Which is getting talked about more and more …
Reporter: People has confirmed that former Saturday Night Live writer John Mulaney has checked into rehab, seeking treatment after relapsing following a decades-long battle with addiction.
John Mulaney: My prescriptions, not the illegal pills I bought on the street, the official prescriptions with my name on them – and they took them from me, simply because I had no business being prescribed them in the first place.
Myra: But sometimes, these struggles are silent. Brody Stevens, Freddie Prinze, Ray Cameron, Michael Roof, Micke Dubois, Robin Williams. These comedians lost their lives in this battle.
We really gotta ask ourselves: What’s so funny?
From Vermont Public, this is Homegoings. I’m Myra Flynn. Today on the show, we’ll talk with stand-up comedian Ash Digs about the ugly side of art. And how the container art is displayed on — the stage, can be both an enabler:
Ash: Somewhere I think that humor enabled me in a lot of ways, because it stopped people from realizing how serious I think some of my shit was.
Myra: And a healer:
Ash: I tend to overshare but there was a long time when I didn't share anything. And it almost killed me.
Myra: Then really we gotta ask ourselves and Ash: What’s so funny?
Ash: Sometimes things can be so intense, so unknowable, so mysterious, so painful, so complicated, that you bypass the tears, you bypass the pain and sometimes you just laugh.
Myra: This is Homegoings. Welcome home.
Ash: I am biracial. And I said it like three times already. Thank you for noticing. This is great light for it. In another 100 years this is what everyone’s going to look like. If you have any white children in your life – cherish them. They’re on their way out.
I am unable to separate my Blackness from my comedy. Like, it's because it's such a core, you know, the, what's the old cliche saying, like, “write what you know,” like, I can only write about what my experiences have been. And I've, I've been Black, half Black my entire life. And it's always been present. I've always known it, Bernie Mac, we had a Kings of Comedy DVD that I used to just run into the ground. And we had Queens of Comedy, when that came out in the early 2000s. And I just ran those into the ground.
And so my foundation of how to do comedy, you know, all those comics, all of them are – a significant portion of their material is built around their identity – being Black in America, being Black doing anything situationally. And so when I started writing jokes, trying to do comedy, that was very present in my mind.
But at the same time, I think that I got, I was lucky in that my intro, my formal introduction to comedy was in college, I took a class called “Women in Stand-up Comedy.” And it was just a chronicling of stand-up comedy in America. And we talk a lot about like Moms Mabley, like in those early, early like, that’s coming out of the minstrel stuff, and like, how do – how do you do comedy? That isn't just, you know, tap dancing for the white man? Like, just how do you get away from that when that's all, for a long time, that was the only way you could get on stage.
And I think you have to be conscious of that in my opinion. I think when I see comics who do things that I would consider hacky, like race material that oftentimes for me is like, “Oh, like that joke isn't? That joke is – you wrote that joke for a white person.” Like, that doesn't feel like you are saying anything about your experience, the Black experience, etc. And I think you have to be really conscious of it. I think it's really easy to get on stage and become a caricature of yourself. And I think that's, I think that's super unfair, that Black comedians have to be so cognizant, it feels like another obstacle. Like I would love to just you know, there's a lot of comedians who are very famous right now for like, doing crowd work and stuff like that. And they can just get up there and ask people like, “What's your job? What's this? What's that?” And there's like, it can feel and you know, there are people who are amazing crowd work, but it can feel like there's very little thought put into it. Whereas, pretty much every Black comedian I know, are some of the smartest comics I know as well because they have to work harder to be perceived as good as mediocre white people, but also to not just slip into, you know, tap dancing, minstrelsy stuff like that you have. It’s 2023, but you still have to be aware of it.
Myra: And so I've also kind of learned over the years through some of my comedic friends that they are pretty depressed. Um, a lot of them that you know, behind this amazing ability to perform and make other people laugh, there's a lot of internal crying going on. How's your mental health?
Ash: I struggle very heavily with depression and bipolar disorder. I have been dealing with that for a couple of years now.
I did not want to stop taking my meds. I stopped cold turkey, some might be saying, “You're supposed to – you're supposed to wean.” Let me tell you what. Just move somewhere. You'll stop your meds cold turkey. The U.S. healthcare system will do it for you. Try to find a new therapist, a new doctor. U.S. health care system will wrap its arms around you and say, “Hey baby, you don't need all those pills. Why are you acting crazy, girly pop? You know what you want to do? You want to be on another waitlist.”
Kind of starting in college for me. Around my, really my freshman year, I started realizing that I was – that something was going on. I felt sad. I felt different. I felt like I was having a hard time. But at the same time, I was making a lot of friends. I was considered someone. People laughed when I was around, and I enjoyed making people laugh. And so it's – but then as soon as I was by myself, I just was like, this whole, I felt like I was this whole other person. And I'm so, so deeply sad.
And that's I – you know, we're just don't mind me going there. When I was in college, I attempted suicide twice. I truly felt like two different people, and then as soon as I'd be alone I – that's, I started drinking when I was in college, you know just kind of party culture and stuff like that. But then realized like, “Oh, I don't have to go to a party to drink, I can just drink by myself.”
College started with self harm, in a way that was you know, I didn't jump to. I had suicidal ideation. But I didn't jump to it, it kind of started as just, you know – trigger warning for self harm discussion – but you know, just kind of using a razor to cut on my arm in a way that felt like self punishment. Like I was like, I'm hurting people around me, I'm drinking too much. I'm not making my parents proud. You know, finding reasons to be like, you know, I'm not good enough. Realizing in hindsight, that was depression, but you know, not knowing at the time, and then, you know, you cut your arm a little bit. And for me, it was almost like, this really twisted fucked up version of, of mindfulness where it's like, I'm actively doing something to distract myself from a harmful thought. But for me, it was just another – instead of like, going to take a walk or going to the gym. It was cutting myself to like focus on that pain. See that? You know, it's both. It's a feeling and it's visual, right? Like you see the blood, suddenly, that's all you can think about. And then you feel the pain. Suddenly, that's all you can think about. “OK, I'm in pain. I'm in physical pain right now, but I'm not sad for this for this moment. I'm not sad.”
One thing that's been difficult for me personally to juggle is that in my opinion, some of my best material has been born out of that. Not saying I think there's this stereotype or this idea that like – of like the tortured comedian, right. And like, I think that's not necessarily the case, I don't think you're a better comedian if you're depressed. Because I know for me when I was depressed, like I wasn't writing, I wasn't getting up, doing shows.
But I do think that it can make you a really good comedian, if you are able to take a step back and mine those feelings. If you can find funny moments in, in that darkness, you can kind of it for me at least reclaim some power and reclaim some of your time it doesn't feel so wasted, if you're like, if you can take something away from it, and bring it to people and like. I've been lucky enough to be in a position where I've done shows where people have come up to me afterwards and been like, “I really appreciated hearing that like that.” Like, “I feel that way too.” And I think that's the really powerful, that's the thing that can make it feel like you want to keep going is, if you can be like, “OK, well, maybe maybe me being open about this in such a public way on stage, making fun of it. Maybe that's the nudge someone needed to open up to someone that they've, you know, not been talking to or to open up to anybody or to take that step to maybe go and take care of themselves.”
I tend to overshare and it's been like, I'm glad that's something that I've developed, like sometimes it's too much too soon, but there was a long time when I didn't share anything. And it almost killed me. So yeah, I long story short, big mentally ill guy over here.
Myra: How have you been breaking your own heart? Historically, in order for the material to be good?
Ash: Yeah, I mean I think, sabotaging relationships. I just did it a couple months ago. And the person she – she told me she was like, “You don't want to break up with me. You're – this is your cycle. Like I've seen it happen time and time again. You are incredibly depressed right now. You're turning in, you're like caving in on yourself and you're pushing everyone away. You're going to – you're trying to break up with me right now. And as soon as you do it, you're going to notice, you're gonna wish you hadn't. Because this is what you do. You push everyone away, and then you're alone. Like, I'm trying to be here for you, don't do that.” And then I still did it. And that's been a pattern. Pretty much as long as I can remember in friendships, with friendships and romantic relationships. I keep fucking them up. And I keep regretting it. And it's gotten to the point I'm almost 30 years old. It's really, at this point, it's just very clear that this is a cycle.
But the most important “I” statement in this story is that I – my actions hurt somebody, one of the only people I've ever really loved, and I have to take responsibility for that. And it's hard continuing on through life knowing that what I did, that I ended it and that it's never going to be the same, and it's gotten to a point where it's been long enough. I've been grieving long enough that a page is turned and I've gotten to take a step back and appreciate some of the good things. Some of the gifts that I got from this relationship.
Probably the healthiest I've ever been, was maybe the like, the last two year and a half or two years I was in Vermont with this really wonderful therapist. And I thought that I had broken – I thought that I had broken that cycle. I'd become aware of it. I fixed things that I'd broken in the past and I really and it was a lot of work and I felt like I did. I felt like I did so much work, I felt like I made changes. I felt like I wasn't just saying I was a different person, I did feel like I was a different person.
And then I moved. And I had a really, really hard time getting a therapist in New York. But I was like this, “OK, I've got this foundation, I've made these changes, like, I, I'm, I can take care of myself until I find this therapist until I find the next service.” And then weeks turned into months. And I started slipping. And I'm still on these waitlists, and I'm not getting to therapists and I'm drinking a little bit more than I, you know, I had cut my drinking down so much, drinking a little bit more. Oh, like, I'm doing drugs a little bit when when they're at a party, I'm doing a little coke, or I'm taking a pill here, but, oh, only it's at a party, you know, it's fine. I'm doing it with other people.
And it just – I just started chipping away at all the progress I had made. Until suddenly, you know, a few like months ago, I looked in the mirror and I was like, oh my god, I'm drinking all the time and fully back to I'm high all the time. Like it just happened again.
Myra: When we come back, Ash’s mental pain combines with more physical pain, and his addiction changes. That’s right after this.
Ash: I used to do a lot of cocaine and Percocet. So if you had gotten to this point of the set, and did not know that I was half white, now you do. With the Percocet. I really, I was really in a bad spot with it. I was I was, I wasn't able to stop. I wasn't able to stop. I feel like I got a bad hand…
I had multiple shoulder surgeries and every time I had shoulder surgery, they were prescribing me Percocet. And I fucking loved the Percocet. You know, like, I had multiple refills, even though you know, I, my recovery time was like three to six months, they were like, you only need these intense painkillers for like two weeks, but they would give me 120 pills with however many refills and they're saying take one a day. And then suddenly I've got all these refills, I'm recovered from my surgery. But now I have all these pills and I'm in college and it's like wow, I have this drug I can take that makes me feel awesome incredible.
The biggest thing I learned this summer when I was depressed was if you are specific enough in the special instructions, Domino's will deliver a pizza to a bedside window. They don't love it. In fact, some of them hate it. But a tip is a tip and I’m bedridden..
Yeah, I would take all these pills and I would feel like I was like at max charisma, max funniness, max all these things. But in reality, I was a mess, an absolute mess. I was sick every morning, I was missing classes. I wasn't being a good boyfriend. I wasn't being a good friend. But then you get high and it's like, and you know, you're hyper aware of all those things the next morning, so then you're just like, will suddenly get high again, because I feel like a rockstar when I'm high.
For a long time it was – I had a hard time describing myself as someone who was addicted to any substances. Because in my mind, addiction was you know, like the stereotypes you see on TV it's someone like strung out on the street corner of like, or like an alcoholic who like you know, is getting the shakes if they don't have a drink. People you know, I went to – I was lucky enough to go to like a good school or well-to-do whites like college, and like, you know, everyone's doing drugs like no one like – no one's calling themselves addicts. You're just maybe that guy who parties a little too much.
You know, so it was like, the language was never really there to call it addiction. And even people close to me would be like, “No, I you know, you’re not addicted, you just you know, you're just partying too much, you're just doing too much. You just need to stop, you know, and that that was always the, and that made it hard for me to talk to people about it, because it was like, I've almost felt sometimes that people didn't believe me when I, when I told them like, “Well, if I could stop, I would just stop, and but I can't.”
At a certain point in college, I looked up this process, where basically you could take your pills, you could like distill them, and you could remove the acetaminophen from them. So you could just take like, the straight, opiate or whatever, like, you know, whichever pill you were taking, you could just remove all this acetaminophen, get all the filler out, essentially. And I was doing it in my kitchen in my dorm, and joking about it with my friends, like, “Oh, we're getting, like, I'm getting fucked up tonight.” And like, and it was a joke, you know, like, it was like, oh, that's crazy, like this, it's like a science exploit, you know, we're, we're making light of it. But at the end of the day, I was distilling pills down so that I could carry around a little ziploc bag of like, pure opiate, to like, just keep them throughout the day, just not – just to escape this depression that had me ready to die at any moment. And it, I think it really, I think that humor enabled me in a lot of ways, because it stopped people from realizing how serious I think some of my shit was.
I got to a point where I was pretty functional, I wasn't always functional. But I got to a point where I was very functional. And then I started doing comedy. And then in comedy, it's like, well, everyone's doing drugs, everyone's drinking too much. And I just kept finding myself being enabled. But I was, I was, you know, it's not anyone else's fault. I was seeking out spaces where I would be enabled, I was putting myself in a position to be enabled. And I knew I was doing too much. But I was so depressed, that it was just such. I mean, I still struggle with it today. But because I, you know, I, I have been off the pills for a while, but I still have done coke from time to time, especially, you know, I'm in New York City. It's everywhere. And it is unfortunate.
I know an unfortunate truth about me is that, and something I'm going to have to fight for the rest of my life is like, God, I love drugs. Like I just, I feel. So I think my baseline, at least for the last like, six years has been such a deep level of depression, that the high, that ecstasy, the escape of drugs, and drinking, but drugs for sure, to a much more extent, specifically like coke and pills, the way it just disconnects me from my reality is just this constant appealing thing to me. At the same time, every time I do it, I'm paying for it. I'm losing, I’m fucking up unplugging relationships.
You know, like, I'm just having a rough week, a rough week that turned into two and a half months of being drunk or high up at all points. And unfortunately, getting to a point where a thing that friends will say to me is like, like, like if we were all out drinking or like, oh, yeah, I was blackout. Like, I don't remember that at all. And they'd be like, I'm like a thing that I've heard for years is you're really good at being blackout drunk. I didn't know you were that drunk.
I've gotten really good at it. And I think that I have kind of created my own problems in itself that when I tell people how much I'm struggling with substances, how much I have struggled in the past, they're just like, “What, what are you even talking about?” Like, that's a different person, like, “No, you weren't, you weren't struggling like that, like, we were going to apple orchards in Vermont, like two years ago, you weren't drunk.” Then I was like, “No, I, I might have been.”
I call the voices in my head “the boys.” So now when I talk about my mental health issues instead of sounding pretty sick … well, I sound pretty sick. Like if you asked me what I was doing later, I couldn't say, “fending off the voices”” that would upset you, right. But if you asked me what I'm doing later and I’m like, “boys night, every fucking night,” you’d be like, “Dang, that guy’s cool as shit.” Do you want to come out later? No no no, I'm hanging the house with the fellas. I'll be in my room all weekend. But don't worry, I will not be alone.
It's going to be something I struggle with forever, I think or at least, you know, it'll get as I continue to do the work on it, which I feel like I am back in a place the last like, month or two, I've been in a really good place of doing that work, getting back to the things that make me feel healthy, make me feel good. But just realizing how quickly I can slip back into it has made it really clear to me like, Oh, this is something I'm gonna have to be really intentional about working on forever. And like that, also, really, that also depresses me.
But at the same time, I do have this outlet of stand-up right, like, you know, it's essentially journaling, I'm writing it all out and sharing it with people, in some ways that's mending for me. The notion of people being like, I don't even know who this guy is that you're talking about that was doing all these drugs and drinking so much. If I can bring it on stage – and I'm trying to take down the walls between the multiple versions of me that I think that I've created. And so I think that's really that that's a big role that performing and comedy plays for me in healing.
Myra: So yes or no, us coming to see your show … is us witnessing you healing?
Ash: Yeah, I think so. The show is called “Unexpectedly Human.” And that is a punchline for a really dumb joke that I have. But in a way, I was trying to figure out names for the show. And I realized, so much of the show is like, as I mentioned earlier, it's stories. It's very personal. It's not a lot of, you know, just straight jokes, it's a lot of stories. And I realized that kind of at the heart of it. The thing I'm often trying to get out on stage, it's just like, I'm trying to be as vulnerable as possible. I am not trying like, I don't think I'm the funniest person that's ever done stand up. I know that I'm not. I think I'm pretty good at it so far. And I think that my, you know, my fledgling career, like I feel like I'm getting better every year, I'm getting more opportunities every year. But I've realized, since I've been in New York, that the thing that really brings me joy in comedy, the thing that made it my passion isn't the pursuit of, can I get this show? How do I get to this festival, this or the other. I'm at my happiest and most fulfilled doing comedy, when I am just trying to turn myself inside out and kind of reach out my hand to the audience of friends to strangers, and just be like, I've been so alone, I feel like I'm constantly so alone.
And when I was leaving Burlington, was packing up all my stuff, I found a suicide note that I had written in 2019. And it was hard. It you know, that just pops up. It really – it can wreck everything. I've attempted suicide twice in my life. Once for sure.
Because I keep so much of myself hidden from the people who have loved me the most from people who have been the closest to me. And I don't yet know how to bridge those gaps in my interpersonal relationships. I've lost relationships because of it, because I've kept myself shut off, coming on stage and reaching out my hand and asking for someone to reach back out to me is me trying to keep myself here.
Myra: We have talked a lot about a lot of heavy shit – from being Black in America, to having to kind of reroute and change the legacy of our ancestors as entertainers, to being addicts, to depression and suicide. So, what's so funny?
Ash: Um, I mean, I think the thing that's funny is that none of this matters at all in the grand scheme of the universe. So like, I think that that's like the grand joke of it all, is just that like, I – we are so infinitely tiny. And yet, somehow, some way, we have these emotions, we have these feelings, we have the struggles that are so monumental while still being in the grand scheme of the universe. So tiny. And I just think that's, it's so ridiculous. Like it just – it's like why earth, why us, why my life, like it's just you can sit here and run yourself into the ground asking all these questions when you realize how small you are. And then you sit down, you know, you talk to my reflection, you make friends, you do things like this. And it's like, how did we even get – why are we here? How did this even happen? You can go crazy thinking about it. And I just think it's hilarious. So imagine some fifth dimensional beings on some other plane being like, oh my god, like, Yo, that dude just got addicted to pills. That's crazy.
We don't know anything about anything. But at the same time, we have somehow developed this empathy, this care for fellow humans. And I think that's so beautiful. I think it's so wonderful. I think my favorite thing about comedy is the connection that you build. And yet, the joke of it to me at the end of the day is that also, none of it fucking matters. So if nothing matters, say whatever you want to say, joke whatever you want to joke about, for the most part, you know, be careful with that.Just like, fucking be nice, like doesn't hurt you to be nice, doesn't hurt you to love someone doesn't hurt you to listen to someone.
Being Black in America fucking sucks. A lot of the time being Black is awesome. Being Black in America can fucking suck so much. It can suck a lot in Vermont somewhere that claims to be so progressive, so wonderful. Still has so much fucking work to do. And yet, and yet, there's comedy, there's laughs, there's like we said at the beginning, sometimes things can be so intense, so unknowable, so mysterious, so painful, so complicated, that you bypass the tears, you bypass the pain and sometimes you just laugh, you don't know you don't know what's so funny. All you just know what's funny is that you're fucking here and you're taking another breath. And it's like, wow, all right. Someone's playing a joke like this. I might as well – I might as well be in on it.
Deep listen
Myra: Ash Diggs. And before we transition into Ash’s deep listen, I have to say, since our conversation two months ago — I’ve been wondering how he’s been doing. I’ve seen on social media that he’s performed some more live shows, which Ash says are as much of an addiction for him as drugs. You gotta wonder, did he keep the show and kick the drugs? Does he have to stop the shows to kick the drugs? What’s next, what’s staying and what’s gotta go?
So, I texted him the same question as we titled episode three of Homegoings: bro, how are you doing? Ash wrote back:
“I definitely am not currently sober so it’d be disingenuous to say that. However, I’ve got a pretty sound grasp on my substance intake these days. I haven’t taken any drugs harder than marijuana since May. I had a very rough patch with my drinking really from fall of last year throughout this past summer, but recently have been able to get a handle on that as well. In the last month I’ve been able to return to no drinking or weed Monday-Thursday then moderation on the weekends (moderation for me being, not blacking out every time I drink) and no drinking alone. In terms of formal help, my insurance changed so I had to switch therapists again so I am still working through the red tape of that process, but my friends that I’m so lucky to have have been providing incredible support. I’d say in this moment I’m actually doing okay right about now.”
Well, Ash, doing OK right about now seems like the best any of us can do. And thank you, for trusting us and me with your story. As it goes in a traditional Homegoing — tragedy and joy can and maybe should occupy the same space. Otherwise, where do we find our center? Or our humor.
This is Ash Diggs performing “Unexpectedly Human.” A live set staged at the Radio Bean in Burlington, that you’ve been hearing throughout this episode.
Ash: I live in New York now. The first time I tried to move to New York a couple years ago, it didn't work out, I was too broke, I was too poor. When I moved back recently, I made sure to check out all my old haunts, find my favorite grocery store where the owner had nicknamed me Aladdin. Because I' was around constantly trying to steal food and wishing aloud that my life was different. That was a good time.
And like when you're moving when you're moving back somewhere, you know, it's emotional, to move somewhere. And when I was leaving Burlington, was packing up all my stuff, I found a suicide note that I had written in 2019. And it was hard – it you know, that just pops up. It really, it can wreck everything. I've attempted suicide twice in my life. Once for sure. Once time it was a little murky, basically, when I was 23 my friends found me like outside their house on driveway, although their third floor window with a busted ankle and busted hip. And basically one of two things happened: I either tried to kill myself or I tried to leave the party in the dopest way possible. Ya’ll still using stairs? No.
OK, so I read this note, it washed over me. And I took it in and I absorbed it. And the first thought I had afterwards was Wow, Ash. You have truly grown as a writer since then. Yeah, it's trash note, bad note. Thank God those were not my last words. Right. The things I was feeling were real, but I just presented them in the most annoying way possible, kind of like Sam Levenson and whatever he's working out writing Euphoria. I’m so glad those weren’t my last words. People would have been at my funeral going up to my parents like, “Did he leave a note?” And they'd be like, “Yeah. But it’s wordy? He wrote it in second person which is crazy.”
And what I'll say is in 2023, I don't know exactly where I'm at now, right? I don't know exactly where I'm at. To paraphrase a song that I love: “I'm ill right now. But I'm not dead.” And I don't know which one I prefer. But I just I'm glad I'm here with you all tonight. I'm glad you're all here tonight. And if you're struggling, I hope you're taking care of yourself in whatever ways you can. And if there's anything that I can do for you, please always reach out to me. And I wish I could offer you more than just platitudes or well wishes but I'm not out of the woods yet myself. But I promise to try to fake it till I make it right. And I'm trying to convince myself that everything will be OK and that if things are not OK, then it's not the end. Thank you all for being here tonight. My name is Ash Diggs.
If you or someone you know is in crisis, help is available:
- National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
- Click here for an online chat with the the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
- Veterans Crisis Line & Military Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255, press 1
- LGTBQ crisis line: 866-488-7386
- Crisis Text Line: text "VT" to 741-741
- Resources with the Vermont Suicide Prevention Center
Credits
This episode was mixed, scored and reported by Myra Flynn. She also composed the theme music.Other music by Blue Dot Sessions and Jay Green. Brittany Patterson edits the show, and James Stewart and Elodie Reed contribute to so many things on the backend of making this thing come to life, including our Homegoings artist portraits.
Special thanks to Radio Bean in Burlington Vermont, for the recording of Ash’s live set, “Unexpectedly Human.”
Due to the holidays, see you in three weeks, this time, for another episode of Homegoings. As always, you are welcome here.
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