Tag Archives: Depression

Great Expectations

Posted on by under The Crazy

I sent a group text the other day to my family telling them the great news that FINALLY I was a published author. I live in reality, I know that I am self-published and it’s not exactly the same hoopla that comes with picking up an agent and being funded by a large publishing company, but still, yay me! My siblings were congratulatory, my parents remained silent. It was the first stone—felt like I swallowed it and could feel it travel down my esophagus and weigh down on my belly.

I saw them later that day, and I know my mother is the type to have cupcakes, say congratulations and ask questions—but when I got to their house it was business as usual. My parents are not villains. I had to pull my eldest daughter out of her former school, I can’t afford before and after care by myself so she now lives with them during the weekdays attending their neighborhood school as well as my four-year old daughter. My parents are not villains. They give me groceries when I am poor and encourage me to go to mental health counseling and provide me with plenty of scripture as advice.

My parents are not villains—they just don’t like the person that I have become. This divorced, formerly broken, independent and kind of whacky woman is not anyone they want to hug or congratulate or give a slap on the back. She is a little broken and way too open. She is not Christian enough; and I know that it bothers them that they can’t quite tell whether I’m going to heaven or hell. Well I don’t really know either, and I had to come to a place and take a moment to stop fretting about it. I’ve had to force myself to slow down and learn to be happy and accepting and to take life one day at a time. And as for this day, I am proud of myself because I never thought I would be here. If you had asked me where I would be at this time 5 years ago I would have said, “Lying in the fetal position on the floor of a psych ward contemplating where my life went so wrong.” I have exceeded my own expectations and I am going to bask in the glory of this moment even if it kills me to smile and I have to do it through faltering lips.

In spite of the men that didn’t value me enough to treat me with respect and dignity…

In spite of what I used to lay awake at night telling myself…

In spite of how the “Christians” may view me and my life choices…

In spite of rejection from the people I desire support from the most…

Ijustwanttowrite

 

 

I am here. And I will continue to shut out the voices of the doubters and unbelievers in order to do the thing that makes me happy. I just want to write.

Click here, to find out more and/or purchase my new chapbook Trigger: A Downward Spiral.

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

Posted on by under The Crazy

I forget about it—and that’s my fault really, because how do you forget something that’s actually kind of a big deal? Also, lately I’ve been functioning really well because I haven’t really had the time to be sad or feel depressed—but dammit it really creeps up on you sometimes. I was JUST ok, then I spoke to JW on the phone and I couldn’t stop crying. I managed to get away with disguising it as sleepiness but something punctured and I just can’t get back on track. I feel I’m running from something and I’m feeling the need to escape but from what, I don’t know…  This is it, right? My life is going well, I am trying to find balance and there is nothing wrong with me enough to be feeling this way right now.

It’s going to drive a huge wedge into my relationship—I’m sure of it but I can’t stop it. I’m on the deck of the Titanic staring that huge iceberg in the face.  As humiliating as it was, I tried my best to explain to JW that sometimes I’m just not right and I still don’t know the trick to getting better and functioning like an emotionally healthy adult. I basically felt like I  was saying, “Oops, I forgot to mention that sometimes I’m just crazy and I have no control over when it’s going to happen…good luck!” This is every man’s worst nightmare; thinking everything is moving along just fine then being bamboozled with a random problem that is virtually unsolvable.

Mostly, I am just so fucking embarrassed. Poor me, right? Grew up middle class, and my own poor decisions led to bad relationships and unhealthy thought patterns; now waking up and living everyday has become my most difficult accomplishment. And it’s not really that I want to die…I just don’t want to be hassled with LIVING. I’d love to lie in bed and stare at nothing for the rest of my life. I imagine it’s what heaven must be. I would categorize it as laziness but there’s a debilitating sadness that comes along with it that I just can’t shake. I force myself to keep moving, keep pursuing, keep trying but I’ve hit a wall and everything is happening underwater now. I can’t move—I don’t want to, but I have to. There is nothing going on in my brain, but too much and not enough all at the same time.

I don’t want to write about this, I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be the surprise at the dinner table; eating in silence, not knowing what to say and pretending to be present when I’m really functioning in white space. I don’t want anyone to talk to me while I’m eating, I don’t want to pass anyone the bread, or laugh at anyone’s jokes. I just want to drink all the wine and eat all the food in silence fighting my own battle to finally not think or worry about anything at all. I don’t want to have to let someone in– and I’m aware those metaphors don’t make sense.

The Pursuit of Unhappiness: Part 1

Posted on by under The Crazy

Sad

The horrible, ugly truth of it is…I am happy. Ridiculously and grotesquely and I don’t really know how to BE happy without making apologies or fearing it. I suppose the past 5 years has been a torrential downpour and I’m so comfortable in that environment that I don’t know what to DO when things have been going decently and life has taken a respite from pummeling lemons at my defenseless body.

Oops, I Did It Again

If you’ve read the blog you know that 2014 was chock full of hedonism and debauchery. Well, not really anything that exciting or scandalous—but I did make the effort to date a lot and sprinkle around a few morsels from my heaping bag of wild oats. Most of my posts about dating came off as whimsical and kind of fun, and it WAS— up until a certain point. The truth of the matter is that I really hate modern dating and how it is set up. I had simply given up and adopted a “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” attitude” and learned to use these new lazy courting methods to my advantage. After a while, juggling men, keeping up with text messages and hang outs and being treated like a piece of meat took its toll and I believe I was at an impasse. I was either going to become this jaded chick that dated multiple men and never settled down or made a commitment OR I was going to grow up and realize that sometimes LOVE HURTS! That’s the risk we take every day by involving ourselves with other human beings and allowing them the power to disappoint us. There is absolutely no way around it and I was beginning to look like a fool for thinking that I could avoid heartache by controlling the men around me and remaining aloof in soul but not in body.

I made the decision to do better. I had reached a certain level of maturity to understand that there is no reward if there is no risk. I missed the days of rubbing someone’s back and actually listening to the story they’re telling me because I care about their thoughts and philosophies on life. I missed consistent communication, lazy Netflix marathons and inside jokes. I MISSED having a boyfriend. As a woman, it’s hard to confess or admit these things to yourself because with the whole “bad bitch”/ “feminist” movement wanting the company of a man automatically makes you weak. Lucky for me, I don’t consider myself that kind of feminist. My pet peeve is feeling censored or judged by others for simply wanting what I want. I am sure there are women who admired that I was going through my sexual revolution phase…then why can’t I be equally praised for my “I want to settle the fuck down and chill with one dude” phase?

But, I digress. Let’s move the story along…

Meanwhile, a persistent young man began to contact me on the dating site for which I was a lackluster participant. I wasn’t really all that wooed by it, but I was bored and his persistence had a hint of desperation in it that gave me the impression that maybe he was just tired of all the bullshit that is modern dating and ready to settle down and give something a chance. We went on a date to a poetry outing and he was cute enough, could carry on a decent conversation and seemed genuinely impressed and interested in me (HUGE points for that). He lived relatively close, as well, so we ended up spending a lot of time together. THIS WAS IT—FINALLY!

In an attempt to disable my account I logged into my profile (for what was supposed to be the final time) and I am messaged by a lovely young man whose dating profile claims he is a whopping 6’5” (yes, please!). Being the flawed individual I am, I entertained conversation with this gentleman because he was hot; plain and simple with no way to sugarcoat that. After exchanging numbers and talking to him a bit more I realized that he was intelligent and fun to talk to even more so than my pseudo-boo I was spending all of my time with (two weeks of pure, unadulterated oversaturation). Some uncommitted dating overlap occurred with the two men for a few weeks and one night, as I sat in the booth of a TGI Fridays forcing myself to smile at the first guy, I realized that I didn’t want anyone else but the second guy. Once I came to that realization I proceeded to do EVERYTHING wrong, by ending things with the first prospect and shifting all of my free time and attention over to the man I favored and could see building something with.

JW

The rules of the blog are that once a male figure becomes a significant part of my life he gets a name. Because I am not a complete asshole I’m always polite enough to not use the actual name of the guy, so let’s call him JW. JW is actually a real, live grown ass man that does real, live grown ass man stuff like; pays rent in his very own apartment, owns a car, has a job, supports his children… It sounds like simple stuff but finding this in dudes nowadays (in the area I live in) is harder than it should be. Those things are nice, but I can’t really qualify them as the things that I care about all that deeply (except for the taking care of his kids thing). As I spent more time with the man I came to realize that his actions actually matched the words that came out of his mouth! He expressed his affection for me verbally and physically, he consistently communicated and touched based regularly and he didn’t play games. As much as I hate this phrase: everything WAS what it WAS…it was GOOD!

Nobody Said It Was Easy

…but it is. I don’t know why and it scares the shit out of me. As it turns out, once I let go of my past hurts and fears; accepting love into my life became easier. JW and I went through the phase of casually dating and after about 3 weeks I was sooo tempted to have the uber confrontational “WHERE IS THIS GOING?” conversation, but something in me told me I didn’t need to. When you are dealing with a real man, it seems things fall into place a little more naturally. I was treated so respectfully on such a consistent basis I just had the feeling that I was finally dealing with an individual that was courting me in the correct way and doing what he could to be clear about his intentions. Look at me everyone; I’m dating a real ADULT!

After the demise of my “relationships” with my children’s fathers and finding out they were both philandering assholes not my true soulmates, I approached dating like a naïve teenager and wasn’t even sure of how I wanted or expected to be treated. I learned plenty of lessons about the importance of giving the benefit of the doubt, the importance of softness and submissiveness, communication, fighting fair, etc.—but I hadn’t yet learned the lesson that these characteristics are NOT TO BE WASTED ON THE UNAPPRECIATIVE! I had acquired all of this knowledge on how to be a good partner but I wasted it on slutty dudes that were not that interested in me, or obsessive dudes that were way too interested. Somewhere along the way I had adapted the motto of “aim low so you won’t be disappointed” so I attached myself to men I knew didn’t want any kind of commitment from me, were not going to pay for any dates, give out any back rubs, no gas money, and definitely no kind of commitment. Dealing with cheaters, liars, ex cons, the selfish, the young, the lonely, the restless was my way of saying to myself  “I don’t deserve any better than this.” So now, when I do have a man that loves and appreciates me, treats me like a priority and protects me I find myself asking the question, “Do I really deserve this?”

I still don’t quite have the answer to that question. But I do know that while I am gifted with this man who goes out of his way to make me feel special everyday, I am going to appreciate that for once in my life, something is easy. He is not perfect— though I am very nearly perfect 😉 –so there is still going to be work involved in the effort to try to get this thing right. Because of my past hiccups I am insanely jealous, suspicious, insecure ALL of that, but I am determined, for once, to chase after happiness. I have put a lot of time and effort into dysfunctional relationships, it’s about time for me to grow up and invest in something healthy that makes me insanely and absurdly happy—even if it scares me shitless

Happy

Suggestions

Posted on by under Poetry and Whiskey

image

I’ve done all the things you have suggested
I’ve said all you’ve asked me to say
Still it lingers heavy in my presence
This emptiness just won’t go away
                                                                
This body can no longer mix with others
And this soul hasn’t danced in years                                
I no longer have a voice that’s meant to sing
In this chaos no one bothers to hear
Me…

Depressed Texting

Posted on by under The Crazy

I don’t drunk text nearly as often as I sad text. I feel low and I punish myself more by reaching out to those who’ve hurt me unaware– reach out in the hope that maybe there’s something they can do to take the residual sting out of it. Just make it go away… I give them too much power.

I have many unanswered texts and one sided conversations on my phone. I’m forever reaching out to silence.

I Know

Posted on by under The Crazy

ImageI leave work just on time and I hit the door of the building running at almost a full sprint. It seems I am always running these days. I fly through crosswalks and bump into other metro passengers to clumsily bumble down the endless escalator stumbling onto the platform to make the next train.

I needed this. I needed this to work for me. I needed this commute to be a smooth and seamless as possible because I want to keep my job and I want my child in daycare so at the very least, from the outside looking in, it would seem as if I had my shit together. I know that I do not. I’m always running, and when not running I am trapped underwater barely able to move.

I arrive at my transfer station and I run up the escalator glancing at my phone to check the time. I am ok. If I make the next rush hour train and the bus comes exactly when it’s supposed to I will be ok. I will bust in the daycare doors like a hero and sigh in relief when she comes running to me screaming my name, and I can hug her and nod a calm greeting to her daycare providers knowing that I didn’t inconvenience them by being late—AND, that I didn’t have to pay their extortionate late fees. This would be a good day, I could feel it.

I noticed the crowd as soon as I stepped off that last metal stair. There were throngs of people, an atmosphere of overall confusion, and a static voice over the loud speaker announcing that someone had been struck by a train. We all knew what that really meant. “Struck by a train” is metro code for: someone jumped in front of the train. I knew I wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long while.

I called the daycare to notify them I might be late for pickup. I knew that I would be more than just a little tardy– this wasn’t going to be a half hour deal, I was going to be here for the long haul. I called my mom to ask her to pick the baby up instead. I could just feel that umbilical cord snap me back to where I didn’t want to be. I just want my independence and my freedom. I just want to be free of depending on anyone for anything and I don’t know why achieving this has to be so difficult!

The other passengers in their anxious need to board whichever train arrived next had abandoned the hard concrete benches and stood in a crowded bunch on the platform. I plopped myself onto one of the benches and tried not to curse under my breath when an older gentleman sat right next to me, his eyes on me and his mouth ready to start up a chat.

“It’s a shame,” he said, trying to make eye contact. “Why in the world someone would jump in front of the train, I just don’t know.” He made this declaration as if it all made sense in his head, and I just stared through him without responding. I am not that socially awkward, I know I should have made an agreeable noise, nodded my head or SOMEthing, but without really thinking about it I chose to say nothing at all. When I get wind of news of a jumper on the train sadness comes over me yes– but also the tiniest bit of envy. Maybe that person has finally found freedom from a life of torture.

I would never condone suicide on any level, but I would be a liar if I said I didn’t understand it.  I know what it is to stand on the edge of that metro train platform, swaying back and forth; you’re brain daring you to take the leap. I know what it is to see a razorblade at your wrist through a vision blurred by tears, asking yourself if this would be the day you would finally have the guts and the violence to follow through with it. A means of escape is all it really is and I’ve contemplated the option during my most cowardly moments. Why? Because who wants this? Who wants this life and who wants to be constantly fighting for peace of mind and freedom and happiness? For some it is a struggle simply to wake each morning, while others pop their eyes open simply thanking their god for another day of existence. Not everyone wants to exist; and in our search solace we plot out the worst. And you don’t have to understand us but you should at least know our story.

I should have told him the this, but I chose to remain silent.—just as silent as those of us who suffer. I had the opportunity to expose another truth to this man, other than that which fit neatly into his ideals and beliefs about what life is and what life should be. “Why in the world would someone jump in front of a train, I just don’t know!”  I should have turned my face toward him and responded loud and clear, “I know…”