A New Chapter

March 1st 2018

I don’t even know where to begin on what my journey has entailed. It has been five years since my world changed.

I try to use the verbage “changed” versus fallen apart, destroyed, came to a halt. Mostly because my mother would disapprove of my bitterness and angst, and also because my world has merely continued. Be it different and difficult.

My kids are now 10, and 6. They are brilliant, hilarious and way too literal. Lilly always surprises me on her quick wit and what she likes and what she dislikes. Ryans heart has only grown, and his love of animals and any person that is unable to defend themselves is his life’s mission to protect.

I feel numb most days. Like fluid movement on going to work, putting on this persona that everything is totally fine, and that I am this strong independent woman. I come home, make dinner, get kids ready for bed, rub backs, and tell everyone how much I love them. Wake up exhausted even though I went to bed around the same time as them, decide if its my hair or my makeup that will look nice (most of the time its neither). And I do it all over again. The weekends consist of me trying my damndest to get out of bed and clean a room and do some dishes. It aggravates my dear mother to no end that I am as lazy as I am. But Its not laziness.  Its sheer depression.

It is physically painful somedays to get out of bed. I will use the excuse “I have a headache” or I had too many beers last night. When in all reality, I just don’t want to live that day. Its not that I want to die, Its just that I do not want to live. I have to lay in bed and stare at the wall.  I think of how alone I am, and how alone I’m going to be. I think of that fact that my kids are the only people that care if I were to dissapear. (Of course I know that none of this is true, but this is the reality of depression. Sometimes it becomes its own entity. Its own being speaking to you.) Please believe me when I say, CHOOSING to be happy is just not an option with someone that is clinically depressed. Its like telling someone that is gay that they just need to chose to love the other gender. And if you also believe that is a choice, then I have no idea why you are reading this.

Now, If I were to compare my “level of depression” over the years, it is slowly getting better. Compared to five years ago when everything happened and I hadn’t quite gotten on my anti depressants I was a zombie. I was useless to everyone. I hardly even remember the first six months. I am not exaggerating. There were times my mother had to come into meetings with me because I completely shut down. I didn’t want to hear what they were telling me. I couldn’t.

I am writing this to show people what Ive gone through. How Ryan is doing, The questions that Lilly asks about her dad that are stupid easy, but oh so difficult. Like, “What is my dads name?” That question breaks my heart because she should have known him. He should have been a good person. I thought I married someone that was going to love me and his kids the way we deserved. I’m writing this for that Mom that may be going through the same thing as me, and maybe she needs to feel like she is not alone. I am writing this for people that want to know why my art is depressive, and my music is dark. I am trying to find a way to “let go of the bitterness.” I want to. I want to.