Light

Ok lets go….

Looking for light the other day.  

Didn’t find it. 

However, it showed up in another, less vitamin D enriched environment.  In the fine fine form of the delicious, delightful and dark Marc Maron.

I know, I know, I heard it…I seee it.  Alliteration it’s real people! I intend to very possibly overuse it, deal with it or move along..

Anyhooszel…..

Light. 

Light came in the combined acts of caffeinating early, before walking downhill, with strength and purpose toward the second day of another new job, coupled with working earbud technology!!! What?

Hold the freakin phone marge!

I know riiiight ….(shhhhhhh…or they’ll hear you and stop working)

Focus…

oh yeah…light

ok, so, I am listening to a podcast…

Which took me yeeeeeaars to figure out how to find, and press, and play. Covid forced me to find a way to get at least one feckin device to talk back to me about things I’m interested in, IN a controlled space fer an amount of time that I saw fit. 

Three mins, halfway through, or the whole damn thing.

Bless the boys at Smartless! I’d have given anything to have attended those poker games in person, but gawd dammit if it ain't the next best thing.

For me, covid did something amazingly specific.  

Something, that I have fantasized about ever since I realized that Nik Kershaw wasn’t gonna wait fer me after the concert.  Ya know… to find out what I thought of the set, then INSTANTANEOUSLY realize that he neeeeeeded to know everything about me, call his wife and kid…tell them it was over, but more importantly and immediately find somewhere else to sleep tonight because….

My dream was about to come true!

This amazing thing would finally happen!! 

(Ok, this is how sad my recovering catholicism is….Sex wasn’t even in the top 47 things I thought about!  (But that’s a thousand stories fer another day) 

I have no heritage to back this up, but I use it constantly and it is the only word that works here…..Oy freakin vey,)

Ok!….here it is, the amazing thing…(not sex mind you, not even a make out session with a free tee shirt, nope!)

I WOULD GET TO GO TO HIS HOUSE!

My entire thought process was purely perpetuated (ah..there I go again..le sigh) by the idea of seeing inside his house ! How he lived! 

What posters are on his wall? 

I know what posters were on mine!! Him ! 

(And I do remember veeeery specifically having to wait three freaking weeks for a certain well-talked-about-in-advance-at-convent school THIRD section from Jackie magazine of a LIFE SIZE NIK KERSHAW poster.

Whaaaaa??? He’s 5 4in I’m 5 4in, we’ll be exactly the same size, IN MY ROOM ! and I can practice kissin him so I’ll be good when we’re married! Ya know…the plan!

1st week - shoes and ankles

2nd week - knees, people

3rd week - Ohhhh yeah…..

( I couldn’t tell ya what I was looking for exactly in that third section, but I know I took the staples out real fuckin careful)

Anyway…his house, I wanted inside the house!

What the hell color is that wall?

What records has he got? 

How does somebody who makes the music he makes that speaks to me so loudly at this time in my life, make that music??

What the hell does that room look like???

Hi Covid!    Ya fuckin bastard….

Thanks soooooo much fer fuckin up eeeeevvvrrrything fer eeeeverybody on eeeeeeevery level.  

There aren’t enough words, riiiight ?? 

But if we shake our satirists upside down, I’m sure there’s a few well crafted cur-esque adjectives we can glean from the lint in their awesome panic reducing pockets.  

(A quick aside……..too late)      

Gentlemen.. 

I tip my hat in your honor, and eat chocolate, naked in yer presence. I am indebted to ya’ll both for yer humor and yer company.  

What’s left of my brain thanks you.

NEXT ! thought please…..

Oh yeah! Covid. BASTARD.

So what’s good to be garnered here.  

Without the risk of very possible restraining orders, and certain jail time. Covid, that fucker. Allowed me in ! to allllll of their houses.

Every benevolent artist that took time to prop their phone up in their bathroom, (Hi Josh! nice singing) let me in their houses.

In doing so, I got my 14year old girl wish.  

I saw what was on the walls, what records they played, and where the cat was, while they were doin all that!

Aaaaand holy hell!….if you caught em live, they might talk back to ya!!

In the room.  In the conversation.

Despite the truly shitty circumstances.

During Covid, this was happening, and I felt less alone, and more connected.

In that room, and sometimes part of the conversation.

“Art makes everything better” Steeve said to me the other day, while we both talked of pain and grief.  

I love a lot of art, and I love the art of conversation.

So, light….much needed light.  It didn’t permeate the sullen sky of the Pacific North West today.

Instead, light shone through the tasks of the day, through the pain in my losses, through the technology that tests my patience, through the medium I am just beginning to comprehend, through my sometimes crippling anxiety, through to, the familiar warm tones in a former drafty garage, of a room I’d never be allowed in ! (..without a police escort out) to the tail end of a story from Ned ! Ned Ryerson!

About the other side of the miracle.  

Light, through the art of conversation. Light, through the wisdoms that come with time and hardships, a hopefully living long enough to make some sense of some things!!! fer the love of Christmas ! ( and that’s an expletive by the way)

The light, of perspective from artists I respect 

(is anybody pissed of with my phrasing yet?oh well, this is fer me anyway.)

I currently do not have the light of the California sun on my skin, to ease my anxiety and the utter fear of my uncertain existence, but it nice to know, when my phone is working that I can filter some light from delightful delicious dark Marc.

Here’s to the light, may it find us before we need to seek it.

Robin Williams died today

Robin Williams died today.....

He lived very close to me, just across the bridge and actually used to live in Seacliff which is only blocks from my house...Anyone who would come to visit me got taken by the dinosaur topiaries that peeked over his hedge. Something very comforting knowing that so many of my childhood memories were encompassed in the humor of one man...and he was right over there, case I forgot.

Its only been a few hours since I heard, and the collective talking points of those local radio personalities who knew him ( through one San Francisco project or another ) is that he wasn't himself lately..

Sounds simple.....not noteworthy. A regular person wouldn't give that phrase a second thought. The second I heard those words, the picture I know far too well came into view, and in that instant I understood.

I've written about depression before, and for those of you who don't know its something I've been dealing with my whole life...I had been living a manic emotional existence from as far back as I can remember....not until 1998/9 was I actually diagnosed with anxiety and depression.

When I've chosen to tell people, the manic elements of the disease seem to be the hardest for them to understand. “But you're depressed....surely it just that you want to just do nothing....”

For me...(and its specifically unique for everyone who suffers)....every thought has a hundred answers or questions.... and every one of those has five hundred possible next steps....on and on....until your head is swirling with every variable, and in all scenarios, fear is ever present, guiding, cajoling, mocking, and driving you at reckless speed towards a cliff you are actually considering leaping from.....

….So you do nothing.......so none of those possible futures will come true....so the risk of being seen, being talked to, saying the right or wrong thing, being complimented or ridiculed, loved or abused stays firmly in fiction. Which then absolves you from the burden of choice and the ball you may or may not have put in motion.....

So you are safe.....for now.

I wasn't sure this time that it was back, but after several months of physical pain, the uncertainly of my health....and this one incident in which I waited until 10pm to leave my house just to get milk.... (I hadn't eaten yet that day, I was afraid to be out in the daylight)....I found the process of this 10 minute activity excruciating... A panic attack ensued, I was drenched in sweat and shaking profusely...It was back.

I find it incredibly difficult to ask for help when I inhabit this space, part of the problem is that my brain tells me no-one wants to know...my brain, my instincts are alien to me, in the millions..... and running...constantly running a series of possible outcomes...all of them negative...

I can't tell you how many times I wanted to take that final step....just so it would end....so I wouldn't be forced to navigate this storm....because finding a path through is different every time, and utterly grueling..

It's an assault seemingly from some outside source, but its actually internal. It manages to take up residence inside you and skew every view.

I am currently crawling out of the dark, and its only because of this story, Robin William's story that I felt urged to share a part of mine. During some of the other times I've fallen, (which is how I phrase depression's return) I have been motivated to try and help those struggling...I don't really have a message today....I am sad that this very talented man couldn't see a glimmer of light....or the hint of a horizon, more importantly I am sad because he couldn't take one more second living with his disease....he couldn't take one more second....One small part of me is envious because his pain is finally over.

I have wondered why so many people take that last step, what occurs to me is that there is belief that peace exists on the other side of that moment...truly exhaling...the end of the torture....but you'll never be able to really know....because there is no coming back from that particular moment.

So what do you do? I don't have the answers for you, today I chose to write.

Healing The Past Part 2....This Time it's................ah forget it

                            Healing The Past – Part 2

I have been accused over the years that I dwell too much on the past….I know I have an excruciating time letting go…

I think it comes from feeling something tangible about a memory ….knowing something for sure is a lot easier after 10 or 15 years…….in the moment, is the challenge.

I also believe that it comes from the fact that I have no mirrors from that time…all my siblings have friends from their youth, still in their lives…I don’t….not sure why….but there is some peace I find in having someone in your life who has known you most of yours.

Beauty or tragedy….all…… if unfinished, unsung, or unclosed, sits with me, permeating my brain with pictures.  Pictures lush and laser-like in their clarity………

I know what he said, what he was wearing, how his eyes looked, if he turned to look back at me….so.... If unresolved….these pictures, scents and sounds encompass my mind…..like a flood…

Many people I have loved have left my daily life unfinished…….

Our relationships bruised, bleeding.  Some of my wounds have yet to heal, some are fresh and some like war...... are weathered by time, faint but visible.

In the last few months and since my last post about this same subject, I have sought out memories unfinished, those that were lost by the wayside, due to less traumatic means.

Youth……..distance…….change of address…..lost in the 'what if ?'…. How are they…..file.

I sought them…..for balance…..for solace…..for they said they loved me once…..I just don’t know where they are…..

Seeking confidence in the fact, that I needed to remember I meant something to someone emotionally, and sometimes romantically....

I do forget I am loved, I do….possibly because it doesn’t reside in my house or my bed….and that kind of love is a rare thing in my life……..

It is a source of sadness for me……..the lack of time clocked with one person.

Sharing everything……….space, conversation, each other.

I crave it………..I know though, that my mind has not been my own, ( as I remember it ) for a long time, and the amount of questions and variables that usually punctuate my every waking hour….are not in the least bit conducive to connecting romantically with ANYONE……

Doesn’t mean I did want Prince Charming to ride in and say “Oh by the way I’m here to Love you unconditionally! And I’ve just checked with Science who tells me that my love will cure you of your insecurity and fear forever!   Plus by accepting this offer you will automatically lose 50lbs but you need to know, I Love you just the way you are! “

Yeah…it came up….but overall I knew I wasn’t ready, but I would have welcomed a hand and a smile…

So when Christmas hit like a ton of bricks and the woodwork became so infested with lost loved ones trying to burrow back into my heart….I needed to find them….those others...those lost to time...by circumstance....not trauma.  Needed to see if they were out there…happy….and as beautiful as I remembered them..

I don’t mean physically either…they radiated…They were many things….and yes I am romanticizing them….which is my right…..but truthfully…I speak with such affection because of how they made me feel.

They truly made me feel like the thing that books warped our Barbie buying minds about….

That I, was the ONLY one….In that moment….for all the moments we spent together….I was the only one in the room, in the dancehall, on the planet..

Didn’t matter where we were….and believe me, there were no candlelit dinners, no epic scenes….just a slide in a playground and a northern town.

Youth prevented the excess of situation….which of course add to the beauty…I have a very clear memory of vinyl Beatles records…….which never hurts….

Soundtrack to most of our lives……

I had searched for one of them a few years ago….around Christmas too…maybe we all get sentimental and reach out and that time....especially if we are far from family….

But I had looked for  ‘Jack’  because I remembered his birthday was right after mine…so it was up soon in January……I had even paid to search his name through a database but the number wasn’t right…..

Jack was something else….he did wonders for my self esteem!

He was my summer love…..he was literally Tall Dark and Handsome….and yes all three deserve capitals.

His letters started to come back. I was almost 18, we had been writing since we met in the summer of ’87 in Augusta Maine.

I been allowed at 15, to go to America for the summer to look after kids, they would pay my ticket…and give me a few hundred dollars for 3 months work.. I jumped at the chance to be there, I had been to the US twice before, once when I was 6 and then 12, and each time was a rich full experience….Love, beauty, family, tradition, heat, swimming and bbq’s, 27 beer commercials wrapped into one visit..

Yes please!!!!

So I go….Maine. Maine is a unique place.  Storybook houses and old court buildings, trees everywhere, and some of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen.

Quite honestly….and this may seem crazy….but I had never really seen the stars…….the clarity of a summer evening in Augusta Maine is breathtaking, simply breath taking….and I mention this for 2 reasons…one the pure beauty…..and 2 will follow.

So here I am in this postcard……

The playground that my young ward and I frequented was one a block away…so we spent most of our time there.

I actually don’t remember the first time we met……but all the kids in the neighborhood would hang out there too.

Man was he something………

So tall….6 3….everyone in his family was even taller…..his brother was 6 7….crazy right??

Dark and a smile from a toothpaste commercial……..heavy John Hughes style sigh of reference.

I don’t know how it happened…I don’t even remember our first kiss, but I know he liked me……and actually his friend  (who looked liked pre-scientology post top gun tom crazy cruise )..liked me TOO !!!! I was in frickin  made-for t.v.-movie heaven…

No wonder I moved here! Sheesh....

He liked me……and there was nowhere to go in Augusta Maine if you are a teenager and horny…….

Of course there was the playground………

So that’s what we did….hung out in the playground during the day and when I was done hanging with the babies, the neighborhood kids and I would use the playground……

Jack and I would end up alone……somehow…and lie down on the slide….him behind me, wrapping his long arms around my 5 4 frame…and he told me what stars I was looking at……The main one, the one that for the whole summer was positioned over our slide……..was the big dipper……he knew all the names…..most of em……hell maybe he made some of them up……I just believed him and as much as makeout sessions happened, the part where truly time stood still was on that slide, looking up into the clear night, being warmed by young love……..

That was my guy……

I can also tell you that Carmex was the lip balm of choice and that smell always transports me to Augusta Maine…..

So where was he……?

I found the old print out in cleaning the house……..all his sibling’s names….former  addresses….

What the hell... let's see if I put his full name and last listed town into Facebook………..

Holy God! There he is….not sporting the long hair I was used to….but no doubt in my mind…those are his eyes….

I exhaled…….knowing that one glorious question had been answered….He’s ok.

At no time did I seek either former love to rekindle a justly dormant romance……no I needed to let go of them…..let go of what they once were….release back into memory something tangible.

He did exist! And he did love me once….that’s

enough strength for now.

That validation, that shared experience, only we

knew what it was…..it was something I was sure belonged to us both…..but holding it alone it felt less special.

I know, I know, it’s not true but sometimes it felt that way……the rollercoaster that is my emotional make up doesn’t always see the correct signage.

….And It was simple…..joking…..stunned yet safe words of love and understanding, that we had lived our lives together for awhile…..and it meant something to us both….catch...and release…..

I felt the joy of teenage blushes, and for the first time in a while saw the small spark that someone had seen in me a long time ago…….and I exhaled again….

I knew I had heard good things about this breathing thing……..

Boy #2 will have to wait for another day…..

Healing the Past

My past has personified itself in the last 2 months. The hardest relationships in my life, the most beautiful and the most toxic have quite literally been clawing their way onto every communication device I own………….. whether they work or not.

Calls and words, promises and regrets, invitations and wistful longing.

I’m left asking why…why them? Why now?

Is it closure? Is it renewal? Are they different, are they safer? Will they break my heart? Will they even rip it from me?

My wounds feel fresh again.  I question my weaknesses, I question my meds.  Mostly I am fearful.  It feels like too much to expect from me right now.  Too much to ask of me…to risk their friendships…again.

I do not………..feel strong.

So what do I do?  More questions…….

I am feeling contained in my mania.  It’s all there, in capitals, as I close my eyes, as I look around my apt…In almost all music.

I believe I have fallen again….I believe I see the fall.  I feel halted ….

Except I’m trapped, as if any motion, any thought, any experience will trigger my descent.

Chaos confined.

In the spinning, in all the spinning, I mainly see the good.  Everything good that was.

I am so confused, so hurt, so scared.

See I love them.

Yesterday was the anniversary of my Dad’s death………..god I hate that word…it is concise I’ll give you that, but it feels like the definitive bookend, like it’s the only thing my dad ever did was to die.

It always seemed strange to me that it’s the anniversary of his passing that we note….Like that’s a day any of us want to remember….

It took years to get into Christmas again…..I used to wear protective earphones with my discman for fear of breaking down at the dulcet tones of Bing Crobsy.   But I did it…it took a long time but I did it.

Maybe because all of the men reaching out to me have, in many ways, been slices of that male figure… There was a time when I believed not one of them would hurt me…

I now just feel loss and distrust.

I wish I felt otherwise, I wish I knew how to forgive and to trust again….I want to.

This is the part where I’d love to talk solutions, answers……directions towards the right light.  I don’t know if I have any general terms by which to measure this….This in particular, is most specific to all the little variables…………. That compose our song…The rise, the fall….n’ all.

I want to see us all around a table, smiling and loving and swapping stories…I don’t even know if that’s possible.  Somehow I doubt it…

So what can I do for now?….I can’t set the table……

I can try to breathe……?……I’ve heard good things about breathing……………………………..

Sometimes I realize I’ve been holding my breath, for god knows how long until I have to gasp.  It’s a strange sensation…

Now……………if I could just figure out how to breathe….

Come On America

Come on America……………Stop Being Fat

These were the last words after an episode of “The Cleveland Show”, a spin off of “Family Guy”  two of the brainchildren of Seth McFarland.

….Family Guy, so popular that after it was cancelled.  fox (I refuse to give them a capital letter) took one look at the epic DVD sales and managed to re-hire them.  American Dad was introduced in the interim and now we have three shows with McFarland’s unique and sometimes laser sharp point of view.

A viewer ship of over 1 million most weeks, and that doesn’t even count Hulu and other online services, which is where I watch it.

That’s a lot of people with the same sense of humor.

I am wary of my opinion here, as I do not want to come across as Isaac Hayes did when he quit doing voiceover work for south park because they attacked Scientology............Especially because as Chef he mocked them all…I could find a list but trust me he slung mud at the best of them.

I watch all of Seth McFarland’s work, have done for years.  I think he has an incredible wit and his voice acting and singing are about as good as it gets.  He is an amazing talent.  What I do have a problem with is, some, just some of the verbal hits he has served over the years.

One that comes to mind is a barber shop quartet singing “You’ve got Full Blown Aids” in four part harmony.  I thought that was over the line.  My line.  I’m not exactly sure where my line is, some irreverence on most topics is necessary to deal with most things.….”Ya hafta laugh” 

It’s one of the reasons Jon Stewart does so well, that and of course the puppet show that can be law making in this country.

When South Park started having a talking poo as a regular character…and two kids who were mentally/and physically challenged saying all the punch lines in slowed and slurred speech, I changed the channel.  I haven’t really switched back. There again is my line.

My wandering point is this… I’m all for a great set of jokes, smart, witty, insightful and poignant, sometimes I even like gross.

And I believe in everyone’s right to express them.  I can always change the channel.

 I do not expect to get my moral compass from a cartoon and I do expect to dislike some of what I see. 

Bullying is becoming more acknowledged in this country, specifically because of the last few months.  Several young men have taken their own lives and several have been brutally beaten just because they were gay.

The media have jumped on this band wagon big time.  Shows on TV are addressing it.  Talk show host are monologuing about it. Websites have been set up to create a network for those fighting against abuse, verbal, physical or mental.

Being gay is a trial for a lot of young men and women.

Recently a gay slur in a trailer for a new movie received a great deal of backlash, because as much as they candy coated it, in that scene, they were derogatory.

So who’s left? Who can we as a society make fun of on a general basis and everybody else won’t care? 

Well? What about all the fat people? That’ll work…Don’t get me wrong, there are many other types of people that are being made fun of, but this seems to be,  from most evidence socially acceptable

Bullying is bullying…verbal abuse is verbal abuse…mental anguish is mental anguish.

I am almost 40 years old and some stranger called me a fat bitch in the street two days ago and I can’t seem to shake it.  He cut in front of me, 15 ft from a stop light without indicating, so I hit the horn, basically cuz he scared the crap out of me.  He got out of his car, saw me…told me to “Shut Up You Stupid Fat Bitch” and drove off. 

I happened at the Pink Concert last year, leaving safeway with groceries, shouted from a passing car as I waited for the bus.  One time, convinced that I was cutting in line at Costco, a man took more than a few minutes to assess what my friend and I had in our cart and announced at some volume that it was …..”No wonder your ass is as big as it is…look at all that food”  His partners cart seemed more full, but I might have imagined that.  When asked by his partner “ What are you doing?” ….he responded “ Oh no don’t worry….she deserves it”

This unfortunately has been a very common theme my whole life.  Which might seem odd as I was not an overweight  kid…but I was tall early, and developed hips and boobs early and by the time I was 12,  I was a size 12.

I know in this country 12 is still considered large (which floors me)  but where I’m from it wasn’t so stark.  I had just entered the race a little early.

So I was ‘big’.   No explanation, no information.  TV didn’t really help me see that I existed, if a plus size person was on anything, they were always sure to mention it! Make fun of it. So as a lot of kids do, when rejected early, sought comfort....not drinking or drugs.....but toast, lots of warm comforting toast....


And as they say, watch out for escalation.....

There have been some steps, but overall I feel like there are certain adjectives that have become synonymous with being….’big”

E.g. Lazy…see reference point …."Big fat and lazy",

Others include but are not limited to....... unhealthy, dirty, gross and unfit.

I do enjoy seeing what the dictionary has to offer...on occasion it can be a sideline, a bulls-eye or a complete change in view...this time it offered all three.....however what intrigues me is its use as one of it's definitions.............productive/rich.  

Here's some other positives listed, (none I've ever heard on the playground, mind you....) Flourishing, fruitful, good (yes...good...look it up!), Lush, prosperous, cushy, fertile and thriving.

Oh........... to have been told I was cushy and lush.   A good and softer alternative for the boys to play with.......that would have been nice.

There is such hypocrisy in this country, we scream for the rights to free speech for equality for everyone.  But locally, in the day to day........ the discrimination is everywhere.

I’m not asking for a revolution.  

I am asking for that moment before you speak.           

Before you go straight to hate or anger or whatever possesses you to expel yourself on another human being.  A human being who is just like you, who struggles with life’s own usually sarcastic and ironic turns. Who has a family, whether that be good or bad…and is just trying to get through the day with some self respect and dignity…...

We are your mothers, your sisters, your aunts, your children, your lovers and your friends.

Before you go to that place, before you expel, maybe be kind instead.... or just keep that comment, (which by the way feels like an expression of how all people feel, a dagger to one’s self confidence, a true and audible representation of one’s own fear, a reason to stay behind closed doors).   

Your restraint, could be the peace that gives someone the strength to get through the next day....
 

So........ Come on America.

Top Ten Blogs about Depression : 

http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2010/12/22/top-ten-depression-blogs-2010/

A Body Positive Site:

http://bodypositive.com/

An Organization ending size discrimination:

http://www.naafaonline.com/dev2/

Retail Therapy:

http://www.torrid.com
http://www.igigi.com

So You Think You Can Dance? 

http://www.bigmoves.org/

 

One More Day

I ran into a friend recently, someone who I haven’t seen in many months.  He used to be a bartender at one of my favorite jazz clubs here in the city.  It has since closed down which is a terrible shame, as not only did art suffer but I lost a whole other family. 

When I was going there, sometimes to see a show, sometimes to perform I always had a great time and felt accepted and appreciated.  Many times a musician friend of mine would call last minute and say he had a free ticket to his show….I’d take the 3 buses it would require to get there and good event or bad I would see my friends and talk about the art.

I watched artists develop and the people who ran it!

One such story is the girl who used to run the door became the manager and a boy who was a waiter who fell for her… Over the years I watched the romance develop and watched them move in together and then a baby…..amazing….I loved them both, they were always sweet to me and such a wonderful couple…

But then the venue closed and we promised to keep in touch and eventually we all drifted away.  Life, love and the pursuit of financial security kept us all busy.

And then last week, I run into my friend who has news of my family, my lost artists………….and he has taken his own life at 30 with my friend the manager and 2 babies left behind….because of Depression.

I face the thought of that choice often.  I am grateful to say today, that it does not consume my every waking moment.  However only up until recently it did.  

Why wake up?  Why Bother? What could I do tonight that might allow me to not wake up?

The thought of facing another day can be the most daunting choice that you can conceive of.  For those who are not afflicted with this disease, and yes it is a disease, that concept may seem unbelievable to you.  Far fetched.  It is impossible to describe to someone not living it.  And even to those of us who do live it,  each day it is still specific, still various to our own personal chemistry.  Creating our own personal hell.

It is a rollercoaster, and you just don’t know what the next day can bring, it could be better, but unfortunately in the depths of this disease it can be, and often is, worse.

I am currently relatively stable, leaving my house on a more regular basis and not completely encompassed by fear, and so in this moment I can say to those who suffer, it WILL get better.  Be gentle to yourself, keep your daily agenda small and give yourself great credit for just getting out of bed.  I truly know how hard it is.  And if you can get help…..free clinics and cheap mental health care is available…I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world and I have meds at about $40 for months worth and counseling at about $35 an hour.  It can be done.

I lost a friend this week and his family lost a son, a father and a husband.  As much as you might not see your worth, we need you…please hang on..just one more day and then lets see how the next one goes. 

http://www.healthysanfrancisco.org/visitors/

http://www.accessinst.org/services.html

http://sfprg.org/low_fee_clinic.html

Depression Is The New Black

Not to say everyone should have it….keep it in your closet…the old reliable…the staple…No… dear god no.

It’s becoming more visible, more mainstream, more accepted, more talked about, more understood…as much as it can be.

I saw as recently as a few weeks ago that Jon Hamm of  “Mad Men” (…. the irony is complimentary ) has suffered with the disease, along with, in the entertainment world… Jim Carey, Drew Barrymore, Drew Carey, Russell Brand, Jane Pauly, and Zach Braff…to name but a few…

Willaim Styron, the man responsible for the award winning “Sophie’s Choice” also wrote a powerful book about his own struggle with Depression…I have never read anything that so accurately described the constant chaos that exists in the mind, that so contradicts what is commonly misconstrued with Depression...

 It is not a sedative state, it is manic, unruly and consistently various in its nature..

In a passage in the book, he details the events leading up to an award ceremony in Europe to honor him and how incapable he was of finding any joy in any of the surrounding circumstances..A wife that loved and supported him, who was there, his peers, his colleagues gathered to speak in one voice that they deemed him worthy of honor.   His work was worthy, his art had affected millions and it was time to scream that love from the rooftops.

His response was one of dread, fear and utter panic.  Sweating and pining at his lot in life, wishing some horror to befall him so as to excuse his own presence.  He spoke to me in those passages and I finally felt heard.  

He also spoke of the word’s origin and how itself, doesn’t make clear the mania that is hand in hand with the disease  “noun of action from deprimere  "to press down, depress" “

As an artist, I struggle with my various muses and the need to feel understood, to have my voices, whether they be print, paint or voice to be as clear as a bell when it comes to message I am sending..

To know that men and women of worth, means and no means can create art while housing this beast gives me pause, pause to say….Do I belong?    ….here with them?  Belong with them because I too carry the same vortex of fear and because I wish to scream my messages without actually opening my mouth.

Are my messages as worthy? As literary ? As colorful, as poetic, or am I in their room because I too lack the peace I see in so many others.

Western medicine is a relative virgin when it comes to treating depression as every single person with this disease is a virtual snowflake of specifics.  Which is why no set medication can work en mass.

We are guinea pigs that must suffer the trial and error of physical chemical warfare, in tandem with talk therapy to achieve any internal balance. 

I have accepted many comments in the moment, (especially in those moments of vulnerability )that infuriate me later, sometimes minutes, but most often weeks later.  The frustrated unfeeling comments of uneducated so called friends.  “Snap out of It” “Get over yourself”  “You’re just trying to be dramatic”, all of which I have taken and barely squeaked out a reply of “ I wish I could”.

We who suffer are stronger than most, as we choose to try and live each day.  Living truly living and not coping is the ultimate goal because all we want is to feel better, if we could only figure out how.

“The madness of depression is the antithesis of violence. It is a storm indeed, but a storm of murk. Soon evident are the slowed-down responses, near paralysis, psychic energy throttled back close to zero. Ultimately, the body is affected and feels sapped, drained. “

-William Styron

From Darkness Visible - A Memoir Of Madness