Hello From The Other Side

I am about to admit something very personal, and very difficult:

In the past six months, I have been struggling with severe depression and thoughts of suicide.

And while I am not ready to announce that to the public at large, per se, I need to start the process of talking about it. Depression is not the killer; silence about depression is.

A few close friends-family, really- know about the things I've gone through in life. I do believe there can be a depression that comes via brain chemistry, and one via life events(usually as a subset of PTSD). Then again, I think those events might change your brain chemistry, but I'm not a neuroscientist so don't expect me to know too much here. The point is, many, many difficult things have happened to me. And many of those were beyond my control, things I probably didn't deserve. The weight of those things became crushing.

Let me explain something that perhaps not everyone has had explained to them about being suicidal; I did not want to die.

There was an amount of pain/apathy/self-hatred/miserability(all of those things at once, sometimes, or occasionally none) that I felt I almost could not bear it any more. I felt like a dead weight to all those around me, even though I knew I wasn't. That's the funny thing, you see, it's that you know your feelings aren't sensical but you can't do anything to stop feeling them.

But that's not what I want to talk about here.

There are two things, actually, that I want to tell you about. The first involves Chris Cornell, lead singer of Soundgarden, Audioslave, and sometimes Temple Of The Dog, and Chester Bennington, lead singer of Linkin Park. (And that, my friends, is why the Oxford comma is a fucking necessity.) These are two close friends and talented musicians that, only two months apart, killed themselves. I was devastated, both times. Here, I thought, were two men who made their lives out of telling us we weren't alone and to keep going, only to leave use behind. If they, who knew how important it was to seek help and had all the resources to do so, didn't... well, what hope is there for the rest of us?

When you're in that kind of hole, you look for your heroes. It's not easy when those heroes fall. It's like a small beacon has been snuffed out. I tell you this because watching my heroes fall has been very hard on me, and hope was in short supply.

The second thing I want to tell you about is my evening.

It started out reasonably simply, and then we all ended up at a bar. Not gonna lie, that's just how the gang rolls. Over the course of the night, I got to see and chat with quite a few people I'd been missing. At one point we ended up heading to a different bar to hear a band. I ended up on a couch with one friend beside me, a sweet boy with a heart of gold and his arm around me* on the other side. The music was playing at just the right volume to be infectious but not loud enough to drown out your words. For the first time in twenty-seven years, I was asked to dance. I had all the rhythm of a recently neutered coyote, but we danced as long as I would let us. As we sat back down on the couch all I could do was turn to him and say,

"This is a good life. I'm so glad I didn't miss it."

It is a good life. There are so many things to see(lightening over the bay, the middle-aged couple that still dances) and so many things to hear(your friend's cover band, a voice so overcome with emotion that it barely rises out of their throat) and so many things to do(dancing, having an arm around you, being kissed, having your friends text you that they've gotten home safe). I'm grateful to myself for not giving up, and not missing these beautiful things.

When my beacons are snuffed, when I feel hope is lost, tonight has memories that I can hold onto. A moment where I can remember saying, "This is a good life. I'm so glad I didn't miss it."

The war isn't won. I've made many great strides but there are more to make. I can see in front of me a lot of uphill hiking to get back to myself, but that's alright. I'm strong. I always have been. I'll make it.

This is a good life. I don't want to miss it.



*this is gonna be in the letter I'm writing I PROMISE

Like A Good Bra

Good friends are like good bras; you're comfortable, they don't drain your wallet, and they provide some much-needed support(and if you're lucky, they're also cute).

But I'm finding myself lacking in support from two of my dearest friends. The talking-in-the-group-chat-about-everything-all-the-time sort of friends. My best friend, Tony, and Daisy who rounds out our golden trio. As close and vital to me as my left and right hand. Or my left and right boobs, given the analogy.

I've been working myself up to starting my own business planning and coordinating events. Looking back at the times I've been stage managing or directing or even just in charge of multiple things, I've found that I really enjoy the work of taking many moving parts and forming them into a cohesive thing. Not everyone has the mind for it; you have to be able to think creatively and on your feet while also prioritizing what needs to be done and making sure that whatever event you're handling goes off with as few hitches as possible(because I don't believe in "without a hitch", there will always be hitches) and having knowledge about cakes and decorations and music and locales and everything else under the sun because shit, you never know.

(That run-on string of stuff was intentional, by the way.)

Anyway, it's something I enjoy and feel I will excel at. But every step of the way, Tony and Daisy haven't been helpful at all. I told them about my intentions, I didn't hear anything back. Not so much as a "Good luck!" Well, fine. I tell them I'm struggling with a name, and they came forth with nothing. Again, not even a "Good luck!" Now I've asked for feedback on possible business card designs(just because I like the way something looks doesn't mean it looks good, y'know?) and have gotten... you guessed it, not even a "Good luck!"

I feel like they give exactly zero fucks. I'm not sure why, either. Do they realize that once I'm up and running and successful that I would share the spoils? You would think they would care if for no other reason than self-interest.

Luckily, I do have friends that are being kind and supportive. Eileen(who is wonderful and supportive in all things always) and Alex. Even Dory is going the extra mile. I haven't revealed my plans to more people than that yet, so the percentages are on my side.

I guess I could focus more on the support I do have instead of whining about the support I don't. And I am grateful, eternally and entirely, but it's always the things missing that you feel the most. They still have two tickets on my train of success. They always will. But in the mean time, I just wish they'd help me pick a fucking business card.

Light Years

There are some sadnesses that never leave.

I was riding down the highway today, running an errand for work. It was a bit of a hike, so I'd brought my Pearl Jam CD along(yes, I still actually purchase CDs. Call me old fashioned, I guess). I'm having a decent time, singing along. The clouds hovered over me but left a light on the horizon, making the whole day feel like a perpetual dawn. Then "Light Years" begins to play.

I've heard this song dozens of times, and it's one of my favorites from PJ. It's very obviously a mourning song. It's never hit me the way it has today, though. I started thinking about someone I lost, getting nearly to tears by the end of it.

I don't talk about my feelings terribly often(at least not the important ones). I make a conscious effort to keep my real pains and loves to myself. There are very few that know the depths of my grief for this person; Alex, certainly, and Eileen. Other than that I've kept it to myself.

But truth be told, losing her entirely changed me as a person. I lost something beyond irreplaceable; part of me is gone forever and nothing else has moved in to fill that gap. It hurts almost as much as it did on day one.

So anyway, that's today's thought. Peace out, home slices.

Remnants

People leave behind a lot of stuff.

Everywhere you look, there's something leftover from someone that came before. Usually trash.

My office is filled with things like that. A stapler bearing an irremovable "DJ" sits on my desk. I have a binder filled with different notes and things to know in the job, some written by me and others by the girl before me. A desk that has belonged to God knows how many people or which ones(it has a deep, long scratch/battle scar that I'm quite fond of). First aid kits that have hung on the wall of our women's bathroom that must've been donated to the college by Methuselah himself.

It makes me wonder what thing I'll leave behind when I leave this job.

And The Card Attached Would Say...

Friendship is a great and wondrous thing. Good friends can turn bad days into good days(or at least less bad ones), forge memories, and walk with you on the path to happiness and success. And the best friends in life understand you on an intuitive level. They love you in a way that a romantic partner can't and hold a piece of your heart.

But friendships, as good as they are, aren't always permanent fixtures in your life. Whether the friendship ends with a bang or a whimper, there will be times when people dear to you will exit your life.

Whether you want them to or not.

My best friend Tony has been having lots of feelings for a person lately, not all of them good. Him, our friend Daisy*, and I have a texting group chat. He approached the two of us in the group chat last week, saying he was having issues.

Tony isn't known for bringing up his problems. It's probably not a healthy thing, but everyone has an unhealthy coping method or two. So approached with this, Daisy and I didn't know how to react. We tried helping him get to the root of the problem.

And then we didn't hear from him for five days.

When he did deign to speak to us on Friday, he told us off for psychoanalyzing him and not automatically knowing(as his best friends) what his real issue was. If presented with these perfectly valid criticisms at the time, we could've stopped doing that immediately. But instead, he decided to fucking disappear.

And maybe it's just because I've recently had other people go on radio silence for no discernible reason(which he knows), but I... didn't take this well. I responded in like tones, pointing out the same things I have here. Daisy, being Daisy, apologized and validated his feelings. That's probably what I should've done. Now we're in a place where I won't apologize for anything because I felt abandoned, and he won't apologize because he doesn't think he did anything wrong.

We haven't spoken since then. I don't feel his absence as keenly as I thought I might. I'm not sure if that's the anger sustaining me, or if we've just drifted apart far enough that this distance doesn't feel unbearable. The truth is, it's been getting more difficult having a best friend in a different stage of life. Tony still lives at home, doesn't drive, doesn't have the same worries and fears that I do every day. If he loses his job, he's broke and upset. If I lose my job, I lose my entire life.

I don't know if this will be the end of our years of best friendship. If it is, well... Maybe it's for the best. Not emotionally; I know there will come a day when I want to text him, but won't be able to. But this may be the universe's way of pushing me towards friends that will understand my growth.

Nothing gold can stay.


*This girl strikes me as being sort of flowery, so I think Daisy suits.

She Works Hard for the Money

Dude, I don't even know anymore.

I'm a pretty model employee. I make things work, I get people going, and out of the complaints made about transportation none of them actually involve me.

So why am I facing my second write-up in three months? In my life?

No, really, that's an actual question. Because I really don't know where it's coming from. Because I show up to work. I do my job. I do other people's jobs. But like clockwork, I'm being yanked into the office.

Apparently I should know that repeating something(something said, by the way, loudly in an office full of people) is bad. I'm supposed to listen to the advice that wasn't actually given at any point. And if I wanted to send someone an honest, apologetic email stating that I wasn't able to convince the big boss not to yank vans from a group, and that the recipient of the original email could talk to her if she liked, well FUCK YOU BUDDY that's insubordination. By the way, apparently it's entirely legal for your boss to ask to see your work emails. Privacy < capitalism.

I'd own up to it if I was getting yoked up on any of the actual mistakes I've made, but that's not what's going on. I'm blindsided by issues that aren't even issues(or at least not what I consider issues; obviously, there's a difference in opinion.)

Frankly, I don't need this. I'm an intelligent and talented individual that has been a benefit to every place I've ever been employed. I don't need to have someone in the office running to the boss lady and using every opportunity to chip away at my reputation. I don't need an anxiety spike every morning as I put my shoes on to go to work. And I don't need someone who hasn't been at this college a quarter as long as I have talking the way she does to me because she's trying to be the HBIC.*

I always talk about getting a new job, but then I have a very good day and think "Oh, it's not so bad", and stick around. But I think yesterday really sealed the deal.

Tonight, I'm going to have myself a good dinner. Then I'm going out with Dory and drinking until I reach the next plane of existence. And when I get home and snuggle soundly in my bed, I will sleep like the dead, until I awaken and go get myself a good breakfast at our local cafe. And when I'm purchasing my everything bagel, toasted with cream cheese on the side, I will grab our local newspaper. I will peruse the "Help Wanted" section, and I will go find myself a new damn job.




*Head Bitch In Charge

Everyone Needs a Rudolph

Maybe it's a bit late for a Christmas-y type theme, but it's my blog and I'll do as I damn well please!

Anyway.

Last night I found myself traveling towards BWI in some of the densest fog I've ever had the pleasure of driving through at one in the morning. Dory(remember Dory? My frenemy? At least I'm pretty sure Dory was the fake name I gave for her...) was flying home from her Christmas trip home. And because the world is not a huge fan of me being well-rested, her flight was delayed and an 11pm pick up turned into a 2:28am one. And I'm sure that I could've said no, that it was too late at night, that she gets paid crazy good money and she can go get her own cab. But I had a Horton moment. You know, "I meant what I said and I said what I meant" sort of thing.

I was alone on the road, and stayed that way as I crossed over the Bay Bridge. The only thing I had to guide me was the next row of green arrows, barely cutting through the fog. As I came over the crest of the bridge, the moment where I can usually see the rolling hills of the Western Shore in all their soft glory, I was instead met with a wall of solid gray.

Until... blink.

Just the tiniest flash of light, barely visible. But blink it came again, a steady rhythm cutting through the darkness in gentle, strobing slice.

It was a light on the top of the bridge, warning aircraft and ships alike that there was indeed a quite large bridge there. It reminded me of Rudolph cutting through the night to save Christmas, of Santa finding a guiding light just when he'd lost all hope.

What would life be like, I thought, without lights that could cut through the swallowing darkness? What would we do if we always had to tiptoe along without knowing that there was anything out there to guide the way?

Everybody needs a light that cuts through the darkness. We need to know that something or someone is there to poke holes in the fog, to keep us from feeling hopeless and consumed. Whether it's a person, or an idea, or anything in between, everyone needs a Rudolph.