Eddie Kingston Opens Up On Dealing With Mental Health Issues, His Goal To Never Quit

AEW star Eddie Kingston recently wrote an online letter for The Player’s Tribune, and in it, he opened up about dealing with mental health issues throughout his life, as well as his journey to AEW.

Kingston recalled getting to a point in his life where he started drinking too much, which eventually led to him getting a letter from the late Larry Sweeney, who Kingston credits for saving his life.

So I drank. Christ, did I drink. I became a bouncer just so I could drink more. On the weekends I’d start drinking at 1 p.m. on Saturday, bounce at the bar until 7, go and wrestle somewhere, then come back to the bar after and drink til 7 in the morning. Then I’d wake up the next day and it was football Sunday, so I’d drink from noon till 2 a.m.

I was sick. I hated myself. I would sit at home drinking whiskey, watching guys who I’d come up with in the indies wrestling on national TV in the big promotions, and I’d just sit and stew until I blew up. I’d punch holes in the walls. I’d smash bottles. I was a danger to myself and others. One week, I ended up going on a bender that was so bad that I just kind of disappeared. I was supposed to be doing shows and I just didn’t show up. I smashed my cell phone and no one could get ahold of me. People were scared that I was dead. I woke up one afternoon and there were just beer bottles smashed everywhere in my apartment. For some reason, I checked my mailbox, probably looking for a miracle check or something, and I had a letter. I’m like, “A letter? The last person that ever wrote me a letter was my grandma.”

I opened this letter, and it was from my friend Alex Whybrow, aka Larry Sweeney. Longtime indie wrestler, amazing dude. He wrote me a letter as a last resort. He said everyone was really worried about me and he begged me to reach out. And I’ll never forget, this one line at the end, it said….

“I feel like I’ve lost my best friend. Please call me.”

For some reason, that woke me up. I called Alex and I crawled up out of my hole. I just always felt like nobody ever cared about me. I felt like a failure, a loser, a bad friend. It’s something that’s been with me since I was a kid. If Alex hadn’t sent me that letter, I don’t think I would be here today. I probably would have drank myself to death. He saved my life.

And the saddest part about it is that those words that he said to me must have come from a very deep place within himself … because he ended up taking his own life just a few years later. I think he knew the pain that I was going through. He knew that darkness.

Kingston also noted how lucky he is to have a friend like Jon Moxley, who recently entered an inpatient alcohol treatment program.

“I’m so lucky to still have a friend like Mox. (And I’m so proud of him for showing real courage right now. I got you, brother. Keep your head up.)”

Additionally, Kingston made it clear that while he deals with mental health issues and has “some really dark days,” he can still look at his nephew and tell them “old, broken, beaten-up, Uncle Eddie never quit.”

I still have my struggles.

I still have a hard time accepting all this love and attention.

I still have to take my Zoloft.

I still have panic attacks.

As a matter of fact, I had one right after I fought Miro at the All Out PPV. My phone started blowing up with all these people telling me great job, just showing me love, and I just couldn’t handle it. I got overwhelmed. My chest got tight. The walls started closing in. I started to go numb. It felt like I was breathing through a straw. But I was able to calm myself down and slow my breathing, because I’d been strong enough to reach out and get professional help, and I know what to do now. I know how to live with my anxiety and depression. And I’m not afraid to talk about it. I don’t care what the old-school guys in the business have to say about it. It ain’t 1987 no more.

I know that I am not fixed. I am not perfect. I still have some really dark days, to be honest with you. But when I wake up in the morning, no matter how bad I feel, I know one thing for sure, and I’m damned proud of it….

I know that no matter how this all turns out from here, I can always look my nephew in the eye and tell him that his old, broken, beaten-up Uncle Eddie never quit.

And when he grows up a little more and he gets to the first grade and some punk kid tells him, “Your uncle’s not a wrestler. You’re lying,” he can whip out his phone and show him a video of his Uncle Eddie walking out through the curtain in front of 20,000 screaming fans at Arthur Ashe Stadium in Queens — right down the block from where he used to trade Japanese wrestling tapes and get into street fights and run from the cops.

My nephew can look that little punk dead in his eyes and say, “See?”

His uncle ain’t a New York Yankee.

He ain’t a doctor or a lawyer.

He ain’t a f*cking astronaut.

He’s a wrestler.

The entire letter from Kingston, which is well worth the read, is available at this link.