08/19/02 -
9:50 pm
Mood: Searching
Soundtrack: Get
Free (The
Vines),
Soul
(Marah), Novocaine
For The Soul (The
Eels), Hate To Say I Told
You So (The
Hives)
Dear Alicia
So those of you who have found me again may be wondering, where the hell have I been? Some of you may not, but since you’re here reading, perusing and unwillingly journeying through my life with me, then you have no choice.
Every street is dark and folding out mysteriously Where lies the chance we take to be Always working Reaching out for a hand that we can't see Everybody's got a hold on hope It's the last thing that's holding me
I stopped writing here, back in early November I think. The rush of emotion had just quelled down a bit from September 11th (it will never die away, but initial rush anger/confusion/frustration/redemption/patriotism, had calmed to a level that my new version of everyday life began back again) Yet I was still falling further into the darkness of my own mind. It had truly begun sinking in that Kat and I were over as lovers, and working on friendship. She was, is, and always will be my best friend in the world, as any lover of course should be, but we are proving that it is possible to take that step back to what drew and bonded us together in the first place. She will always be my one true love, the one who knows me like no other, who I love, and who loves me unconditionally, and will always hold that special place in my heart. Even though we have drifted apart, and she has moved on (to happiness and the love she desires and deserves, I hope) and while I do miss what we did share, what I stupidly screwed up, we are still bonded, connected and a part of each other’s lives. But I don’t want to sound like I’m on soapbox for her again, I went through that phase, and I’ve moved on to the acceptance of the fact that I would rather have her in my life as a friend, then not at all.
Invitation to
the last dance
Then it's time to leave
But that's the price we pay, when we deceive
One another/animal mother
She opens up for free
Everybody's got a hold on hope
It's the last thing that's holding me
However everything in else in my life, got steadily darker. There were slivers of sunshine that would flash through every once and a while. My best friends daughter growing more and more every day, into the angel that she will always be, my somber, eye-opening, escape to New York for a weekend, my cousin Alicia’s graduation from college, my progression into a new job at work with less stress and more money (not stupid, duh!), the rebirth of my educational quest to fulfill a semblance of my potential, my immersion into the local film community (including meeting several directors and stars at a local film festival, and my acceptance into the local film criticism community). But surrounding all that, stabbing through at every vulnerable point was the frustrating, confusing, maddening constant that has haunted my life for so long, but has only recently been given a name.
I suffer from depression, call it manic, call it bipolar, call it moody call it emotional, whatever. Choose your moniker, but understand it, and the affect that it has on my life. It confounds me some days, sends me into “funks” that contrary to popular belief, I cannot just “snap” out of. It feeds my self-doubt, my low self-esteem and sense of self-worth and makes me feel insignificant and like a failure. I don’t like myself a lot of the time, I get these racing thoughts that I fight like hell to grab onto, but cannot, and get ever more frustrated when I can’t. I get a tension running through my body that I just cannot exorcise. If you can relate, or go through something similar, my heart goes out to you. Lately, the beast has been winning. My downs have been worse than ever before. I feel more alone than usual, despite being out in public. The phrase, alone in a crowd, never rings truer. The movies were my only constant, even my writing and reviews have slacked off. I just haven’t had the desire, confidence or energy to do it. My work has suffered, my vacation time almost expended, my wits depleted, my spirit and soul deflated beyond recognition. I have become a shell of what I once was; I have let this cerebral bastard win, in 2 words, Depression Sucks.
Look at the
talkbox in mute frustration
At the station
There hides the cowboy
His campfire flickering, on the landscape
Now I know that in the perspective of
the catharsis and awakening that our country and our lives have gone through, my
problems and my ranting may seem minimal and inconsequential.
But I don’t live in the grand scheme of things, I am one of many
populating that fringe that many people are afraid to admit is there, and are
also afraid to admit the existence of. So
take these comments in perspective and with a grain of salt.
I know that I am not the only one who suffers through some form of this
affliction, according some numbers, as many as 20 million people may deal with
some kind of clinical depression. So consider me a voice amongst millions, screaming through
the madness, fighting through the confusion and smoke, searching and grasping at
every bit of light possible, trying to latch onto the one that will pull me out
of it all. Any glimmer of hope,
however large or small, may help. I
hold onto the hope and dream that someday, these feelings will no longer invade
my soul. It frustrates me, and
those around me who don’t understand, or don’t know how to deal with me when
I’m in my moods.
That nothing
grows on
But time still goes on
And through each life of misery
Everybody's got a hold on hope
It's the last thing that's holding me
But I shall overcome. I am not one who gives up easily, and as Kat and anyone who
knows me will attest, I am stubborn. In
my search for answers, the elusive truth, the key to unlock the unknown that
taunts me, I will open any door that presents a possibility.
I will explore the deepest crevices of my mind; I will seek out the
answers to the questions, which seemed either unanswerable, or unimportant.
The fuel that drives me is hope. The
hope that somewhere out there, or inside me is that cowboy at the corral and
maybe he holds the cards and the answers. The
one who offers the path, but does not walk it for me.
The one, who shows me the way, then disappears as quickly as he appeared.
Is it something in my past, is it something that I do now that I
shouldn’t, or something that I don’t do that I should.
The greatest fear I have in this world is that of the unknown.
Not knowing answers, or knowing why something is the way it is, my
curiosity and my hope for inner and external peace is what fuels me on this
journey. Come along if you like.
With my sister’s spirit and soul to hold my hand along the way, keeping
me safe, I cannot guarantee your own safety, nor my own.
But if you want to be a witness to a rebirth, a reemergence, the phoenix
rising from the flame once again, bigger, stronger and deffer than ever, the
methods of my madness cowering in the I of my own storm of self-discovery.
Then buckle up, its going to be a dark, frightening, bumpy ride through
my mind. But I will survive, I will overcome, and someday, I will emerge
victorious.
Hold on Hope (1999), performed by Guided By Voices, from the album Do The Collapse, lyrics by Robert Pollard
Questions, Comments, Criticisms, anyone there?? - Email Me
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