Sullen Girl

“Days like this, I don’t know what to do with myself, all day and all night. I wander the halls along the walls and under my breath I say to myself I need fuel, to take flight.” This is my favorite line from one of my favorite songs. I first heard it when I was 14 years old and I related immediately. I first felt depressed at 14 even though I didn’t know how to name it at the time. My mom was depressed on and off my entire childhood but I just thought she was sad and tired a lot.

When I was 21 I experienced my first real bout of depression that left me in bed. No one really knew, not even me. I just thought it was a normal reaction to something I had been through. My friends would try to get me to go out and I would decline. Sometimes they would show up and physically drag me out of the house. Then I would proceed to sit in the corner of a room at the party, hoping desperately to not be noticed and snarl at anyone who dared to approach me. I thought it was a passing phase. That I was just unamused by drunken frat guys and uninteresting chatter (which was true). From that point on, however, the darkness would become a familiar passenger in my life.

While I could be happy, outgoing, and even the life of the party at times, this was not the norm. I would just make sure to only be seen during times of high energy and exuberance. These states were socially accepted and I always gained friends this way. I learned to hide when the storms approached. Sometimes just in front of the tv, other times drinking alone in my room, sometimes writing poetry. My mom and I shared in our despair and also in our joy when we were both able to get out into the sunshine. It was always better during the warm months for us both.

Some months were better than others and at times I’d thought it was gone forever. I never fully acknowledged what was happening but it started effecting my life so negatively that I finally sought counseling. My counselor tried to diagnose me as bipolar but I wouldn’t let him. Pharmaceuticals were not my path. I was passionately against them.; as were both of my parents. (I grew up not even taking aspirin) And the only option for bipolar treatment was medication. So I was not bipolar.

Even though counseling helped the darkness would still take over, seemingly out of nowhere and without warning. A normal bad day for someone else would turn into thoughts of hopelessness and suicide for me. A breakup could mean being in bed for weeks, or even months, at a time.

Then it happened. The worst case scenario of my life. My mom committed suicide. She actually did it. She planned it, wrote a long note to me, and disappeared to a motel room. That’s it. She was gone. Just like that.

The grief that followed for all of us was indescribable. Something I had never felt. This was very different than depression. This was grief with meaning. It was justified. And it forced me to move out of depression entirely. Grief was a catalyst for me to live my life. And, for the next year and a half, I did just that.

It’s not that I didn’t experience sadness after my mom died or times of despair. I absolutely did. It just didn’t last long amounts of time. I moved to a new state, I said yes to every invite I got and each new potential friendship, and I smoked a shit ton of weed for the first time in my life. I had panic attacks often and the weed stopped them. I could work and function as long as I was high. And I didn’t sink into depression. It helped.

I met a man during this time. A wonderful man. A man who convinced me to have a child and get married, which were never dreams of mine. This man was so different from me, but so amazing. I wrote in my journal that he was “the best man I’d ever known” and this was true. I was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. Then I got pregnant. Then I stopped smoking weed. Then it all came crashing down. I hadn’t dealt with any of the emotions over my mom’s death, over my rape, over my internal struggles and darkness. I could no longer run and hide.

Then, a second worse case scenario hit my life. While I was visiting my family in North Carolina and planning our wedding, he died in a work accident. My love. The father of my child to come. My future husband. Just like that. He was gone. I flew back and was brought straight to the hospital. As I walked into the morgue I felt unreal. Not there. Not human. I shook, I felt nauseous, I looked into his one open beautiful blue eye. I saw the blood between his teeth. I held his cold hand. I was 8 weeks pregnant and alone.

Fast forward seven years. So much has transpired. I have an amazing son, who happens to have his dad’s blue eyes. I have moved about 12 times between 4 states and 2 countries since he was born. We have settled back in North Carolina. He is smart, funny, sweet, and wonderful. We are healthy and live in a great neighborhood. I have been in one relationship since his dad and it was horrific and tragic. I have tried to stay in therapy, have tried medications, have done yoga, stopped drinking for periods of time, done endless affirmations, read countless self-help books, changed my diet, smoked weed, not smoked weed for long periods, exercised, not exercised, and have gone back to school.

The passenger has stayed with me through it all. The darkness encompasses me unexpectedly and for unknown amounts of time. Then I will suddenly be filled with energy and creativity and plan our lives 5 years into the future. Then it begins again. I feel awful when I am down in it. I don’t want to be seen by anyone, I just want to hide. A simple act like going to the grocery store can take hours of self-talk and preparation. I feel like a horrible mother, friend, sister, aunt, daughter. I lose track of time and space. I miss birthdays and moments with my son. I miss myself.

I don’t know how to reach out from this space. I just don’t. I guess I’m writing this as a way to do that. I am, in no way, ever thinking about self harm. As long as Benny lives I will be here, cheering him on. I just don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to make excuses and only show myself when I am doing well. I don’t want to make plans and cancel them with no explanation. I don’t want to be ashamed anymore.

I have episodes of deep depression and less often, episodes of mania. They are partially circumstantial and partially not at all. There is no “fixing” this so please don’t try. I am potentially bipolar. I have been diagnosed with CPTSD. I do not want to take medications again. I just want to be ok with myself and try my best. I want to figure out what works and what doesn’t. I want to feel the emotions fully. I want to stop running and hiding from myself and others. I want to be ok with not being ok. I want to befriend the dark passenger. Learn how to be in the world even as he rides alongside me, possibly forever.



“But its calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion”

What is Morality

Who determines what is considered moral and what is considered immoral? For most, it is decided early on by an outside influence or set of influences. If you grew up going to church your moral compass was created by your specific religious leaders. "Thou shalt not...", varying bibles, prophets from ancient and modern times: these are the designers of a vast number of human's morality maps. For others,their parents were the gods of their lores. Whatever they grew up with in the household became law. Then there are those who grow up to adopt an entirely opposite moral code than their parents for the sole purpose of rebellion and clearly asserting their independence. But this is still because of an outside influence. Some have been more influenced by media, authors, celebrity, or advertisements. Others still by their specific nation's set of laws and social norms. We get handed our morality on an invisible platter and then we fight to defend it, or get saturated in guilt and shame for breaking it...our entire lives.

So, my question is "What is Morality?" Merriam-Webster dictionary defines it as "a moral discourse, statement, or lesson", Moral as "of or relating to principles of right and wrong in behavior: Ethical" and Ethical as "conforming to accepted standard of conduct". So we start off very broadly and end with a blatant definition of conforming to norms. Then who determines norms? This is a never-ending worm hole with no real truths.

The next big question to ask is, who determines your morality? Is it you? Can you honestly say that? Can you say you came up with your own rulebook alone? Of course some would say it is an amalgamation of cultural influences, upbringing, media, experiences, traumas, country of origin, and religion...perhaps even brain structure that determine your specific moral code. And they would be correct.

So, in all of this awareness, how do we change this? How do we create our own, individualistic, creative, conscious, self-determined, experiential moral system? Also, how do we balance this without losing sight of a moral sense of responsibility to the whole (Of course this opens up another set of endless questions: are we inherently empathic and compassionate or is this a learned behavior etc.). I'm sure some out there have figured this out and are living from their own map right now (Oprah get it girl). Since I am not one of those people (yet) I am coming up with my own ideas on this complex and often difficult process.

I say start by doing nothing. Go blank. Meditate until your moral code has been sent into outer space. You will need a clean canvas. Working with a therapist is another initial step in the "Anarcho-morality" movement (do I need to hashtag that shit?). Feel all of your emotions, past and present. Welcome them. Allow them all to arise and bubble to the surface in order to evaporate. Endlessly question. Never determine anything as inherently right or wrong. Question everything. Deeply. Then dive ever deeper. When you naturally realize you don't know anything and you never have...then you are ready for the creation process. I suggest you be in this blankness a while, in this yin space, and then, once guided by intuition, begin again. Birth your own story, your own laws. Learn from your array of life experiences and figure out what is truly important to you. Use your intuition as this is your true moral compass and its built right in (ruby slippers anyone?). See what comes to mind, what inspires and enlivens you. Where are you of service or where can you be? Go into the forest, step into the rivers, ask the trees. They are wise and more generous than you could ever imagine (and they're strong mother fuckers). There, you will find your authenticity. Your inherent worth not determined by anything you do or don't do or how moral you are or are not, but solely by your existence. You are therefore you are worthy (haha sounding very new age here!). You will discover You, probably for the first time since early childhood, and you will know how to be in this world. You will know true love and move forward in and as that love. I suppose that is my definition of morality.

This leads us to the ever important question, who am I? To be determined.

Horns in the Breeze

My son and I took a mini road trip today. Went on an adventure as we have often done throughout his six years of life on this amazing planet. We are explorers at heart and it has been a while since we went beyond the boundaries of our home city and our daily routines.

It has been a difficult year to say the least. Circumstantially nothing was blatantly wrong or terrible. Actually just the opposite. We live in a great city, in a wonderful neighborhood, in a cute home. We are basically healthy. My son attends an amazing school that I have dreamed of since he was in the womb. We both have wonderful friends and family who love us both near and far. Anyone looking in from the outside would think we were at peace, finally, after many trying and traumatic life events. But, alas, things are not always as they seem. At least not as they seem on social media to which I am self-admittedly addicted.

This year has been the worst of my life thus far. Not because of any outside influences or events. There have been stressors, of course. Being a single parent is a daily push and pull..always worrying I am messing up and not doing and/or being enough. Always reaching that sharp edge where I feel I could split in two at any moment. But I/ we get through each time and our bond is only strengthened. My son started kindergarten this year and, having so much alone time after almost six years of next to none has not been as freeing as expected. It has, instead, brought up an array of long-repressed emotions that I had been running away from for so long. A deep well of grief finally bubbled to the surface. I also came off of antidepressants in November after months-long attempts and withdrawals. So...as I spent time with my inner, darker worlds, I felt all that backwash of emotion. It was not easy. It was the most difficult journey I have taken to date. Recently, however, I felt a shift in my psyche. Long forgotten parts of me began to resurface and reintegrate. I started to smile again, to feel the sun on my face, to laugh with my son from my belly, to hope for the future just slightly.

And then there was today.

Destination: Greenville, South Carolina. I had heard so many people mention this city over the years. Only an hour south of us just across the state line, but I had never managed to make it there. So, we planned on a day off from school. Packed a backpack with cashews and water and headed south. It was much larger than I expected. The tree-lined streets downtown were reminiscent of Charleston, but I noticed a lighter feel immediately. I anxiously found parking and we began our stroll. A perfect stroll on a perfect day. Never rushed. Always time for pause and spontaneity. My son has reached an age where walking has become more normal paced and less whiny than in previous years. I love this so much. We walked down to the park first, stopping to throw wishes in fountains. We only saw part of the magic and headed back to Main street. We stopped to get hot dogs at a stand (veggie for me). My son ate his in a fury and stated "that was the best hot dog I've ever tasted"! We sat on a bench and listened to a man play the accordion from across the lovely street. I felt as though he played for just the two of us in that moment. We continued to meander, taking in all the sights along the way. Flowers, fountains, shade, sun peaking through the trees. We stopped in a toy store and got a trinket, then continued on our way. Then we headed to the children's museum. It was one of the best we have visited. We stayed for hours. My son made fast friends as he always does. I took photos and felt the joy of his experience. I love this. Feeling joy through another human that you love more deeply than you could have ever imagined. We headed back to Maine street and they were setting up a street festival.I promised we would return to the children's games being set up on the street after dinner. My son picked a creperie and we sat outside in the gorgeous shade. We watched a variety of people pass by. From women wearing fancy dresses to women in head scarfs to gorgeous black men to students laughing. Couples of all ages holding hands. A young Johnny Depp looking waiter recommended a glass of wine and brought us mouth watering food. All seemed to move in slow motion as I chatted with my son and we ate our food gratefully. Each passing moment seemed better than the last. We finished and headed back up to the games, as promised. We played corn hole as a band played "My Girl" and "Stand By Me" in the background. We headed to get our map of the hidden bronze mice throughout the city. My son said this was his favorite part of the day...searching for small statues of mice based on obscure clues. I loved that he loved it. We continued southward, across the big bridge and down to the river. Pure magic lived here. Strolled by us and held our hands by the river. We sat on a swing seat and felt the breeze. We walked across the suspension bridge as the suns set in the southern sky and looked at the beauty of the waterfalls below. Horns seemed to float in the breeze. Children played, bikers rode by, a man sat on a brick wall rocking out to his r & b tunes...lost in the music and free for that moment. Couples, again, held hands and solo walkers gazed into the distance. This, I thought, is romance. A love affair with a place. I was in love.

We headed back, now exhausted but completely fulfilled. I asked my son if he had a fun day. A simple "yes" and a squeeze of the hand was the perfect ending to this lovely day. This new beginning.

Rot

Right now, I am a decaying leaf
Let me be

I have been a bud before; full of potential and hope

I have grown, transformed, and blown in the breeze

I have endured storms, been shit on by birds, clung on for dear life

I have felt the coming of the season of death

I have watched others fall and perish

I have died and been reborn, over and over


This is the season of rot
Let me lie

Do not rake me up with your affirmations

Do to try to keep my color with your praise

Do not pick me up and place me in your pocket...
hoping for a resurrection


I am gone
Leave me dead

I will return to the ground; reborn in the spring

But I will be different

Maybe a blade of grass, a fungi, a sprig of moss
No longer a leaf


Let me change

Watch the miraculous rebirth from a distance

Take photos with your phone

Love that I exist at all

...But leave me still.