I guess Clarissa does know it all. Trivett Wingo — who left The Sword earlier this week and not because of me — was medicating himself to stay on tour and — to prevent him from becoming hooked on hillbilly heroine — had to jump ship. This, according to an interview with Wingo that ran on his hometown newspaper’s blog.
He said it was a decision he’d been mulling “a couple of years” and that “my level of anxiety pertaining to being on tour got to the point where medication was not the answer. You can crunch Valiums all the time, but at a certain point you have to ask yourself if you should just be staying at home. I had been medicating myself to be on tour, and I realized that psychiatric help wasn’t the answer.
“I was very deeply unhappy,” he continues. “I didn’t want to sedate myself and do something that I wasn’t enjoying. I figured it was better for me to finally listen to my inner voice and strike out on my own. I wanted to finish it all. If I had known what point I would break, I wouldn’t have planned anything beyond that, but I reached my own personal breaking point as far as my panic and anxiety. I was living in a mental hell. I think it was really starting to affect my performance as well. I really officially completely burned myself down to a nub.”
Trivett is “sad and confused that I’m not with the band anymore,” but feels like “a weight is off me in knowing that I’m not getting on that bus again. It’s going to take me a long time to get over it and unwind all of the stuff in my mind. It’s a change in identity for me. I realized that I couldn’t be in a touring band, even in a couple years from now. It’s been hard on everyone. People think it’s really easy to just ride around and fly on airplanes and play rock & roll shows. What they don’t realize is that you completely give up your entire personal life. All of your meaningful relationships are thrown into a pile and neglected. You’re not there for your friends or your family, the people that you love. Meanwhile, you’re thrust into this void where you sit around and jerk off for 23 hours waiting to play one hour of music. That just killed me. I was dying on the road.”