From Eggrolls to Eden- Facing Depression Head On
- facethyfear
- May 15
- 4 min read
Disclaimer: This article reflects the personal experiences of Malcolm Pannell and is intended for storytelling and recovery support. It is not medical or professional advice. If you are experiencing a mental health or substance use crisis, please seek help from a qualified provider or call emergency services.
By Malcolm Pannell | FTF PlantMasters | FaceThyFear.com
I’ve dealt with depression since I was a child.
Not mood swings. Not bad days. Depression.
That heavy, invisible shadow that makes you feel like something’s wrong with you—like the whole world’s moving and you’re just stuck in the background. I didn’t know what to call it, but I knew it was there. That’s what pulled me toward darker music, heavy metal, raw sounds that didn’t lie about pain.
Seether’s Disclaimer II was more than an album to me—it was a mirror.
One song off that project stuck with me like a scar: “Driven Under.”
I felt every word. The numbness. The distrust. The bitterness that comes from surviving too much with too little love. That song didn’t just sound like how I felt—it was how I felt. Especially in addiction.
For ten years, I used alcohol and cocaine like armor. Every time I relapsed, I promised myself it would be the last time. And every time, I got deeper. My body started tapping out before my mind did—trembling hands, choking in traffic, blackouts I couldn’t explain. I remember waking up in sweat and urine like it was normal. I remember claiming a chip I didn’t earn because I couldn’t admit I’d fallen again. I was smiling in public, dying in private.
That was my “Driven Under” phase.
I wasn’t living. I was just not dead yet.
Today, I’m not completely free of the weight—but I’m walking with it differently.
This morning, I woke up with depression again. No appetite. No motivation. That old voice telling me to skip my meds and stay in bed. But I didn’t. I moved. I sold some plants. Paid bills. Drove to the store. Then I ordered Chinese food from Eggroll King—the same place I used to order from while I was in rehab. That hit me harder than the food did.
Because now, I live just six minutes away from that same recovery center.
Six minutes from the place where I finally surrendered.
Six minutes from the place where I stopped pretending and started planting.
That’s where FTF PlantMasters was born—from the dirt, the chaos, the brokenness. I ordered seeds—thousands of them. Not for money. Not for clout. But for survival. For purpose. I started giving away edible plants to strangers all over Savannah—okra, zucchini, bell peppers, dahlia flowers. I didn’t announce it. I just gave what I had to people who needed something alive in their life.
Some folks wont know that it came from me. And that’s okay.
Because I’m not doing this to be seen.
I’m doing it because I remember what it felt like to not feel like anything would ever grow again.
I remember what it felt like to be driven under—and I never want anyone else to stay there.
If you’re reading this and you’re in recovery—or trying to be—let me say this:
You are not your relapse.
You are not your diagnosis.
You are not your shame.
You are not too far gone.
You can still plant something. You can still grow.
Even in depression. Especially in depression.
From relapse to raised beds. From darkness to dahlias. From Eggrolls to Eden.
This is how I’m surviving. This is how I’m living.
This is FTF PlantMasters.
Need Help Right Now?
SAMHSA National Helpline (Substance Abuse & Mental Health):
1-800-662-HELP (4357) – Free, confidential, 24/7
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline:
Call or text 988 for mental health emergencies
National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI):
nami.org/help – Find local support groups and education
Georgia Crisis & Access Line:
1-800-715-4225 (For Georgia-based services)
If you’re in Savannah and want to connect with recovery, plant care, or support—
Email: facethyfear@gmail.com
You are not alone. You are not beyond help. You are not beyond growth.
The Third Step Prayer
“God, I offer myself to Thee—
to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt.
Relieve me of the bondage of self,
that I may better do Thy will.
Take away my difficulties,
that victory over them may bear witness
to those I would help of Thy Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life.
May I do Thy will always.”
In recovery, this prayer ain’t just words—it’s a weapon. A quiet weapon against ego, fear, and control. It’s Step Three: “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.”
It’s the moment you stop playing God.
Stop acting like you can fix yourself with the same hands that broke you.
It’s surrender. It’s freedom. It’s saying,
“I’m not strong enough to carry this alone—and I don’t have to be.”
Some days I still say it out loud.
Some days I whisper it before planting.
Some days I cry through it.
But every time—it reminds me:
I’m not doing this for me anymore.
I’m doing it for those who still think they’re too far gone.
Because they’re not.
You’re not.
Support the Movement:
© 2025 Malcolm Pannell. All rights reserved.
FaceThyFear™, FTF™, and FTF PlantMasters™ are trademarks of Malcolm Pannell.
Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this content without written permission is prohibited.
As of May 18, 2025 at 11:10 p.m., I’ve been sober for:
Alcohol:
2 years, 5 months, 28 days, 17 hours, 40 minutes, and 41 seconds
Cocaine:
2 years, 11 months, 13 days, 17 hours, 39 minutes, and 54 seconds
This ain’t just a stat.
It’s a miracle in motion.