I don’t have pretty words to dress it up. I don’t have metaphors to make it relatable. I’m drained. I’m empty. I’m disconnected. This year started in the red. My … Continue reading Disconnected
At 6:58 am, my phone rang. I could tell by the Mariachi music that it was my not-biological-but-pretty-much brother. I’ve curated a family that is no kin to me to make up for the one genetics left me with. I promise you, the Build Your Own Family Adventure is totally worth it.
I was wrist deep in biscuit dough and drowning in breakfast prep so I had to let his call go to voicemail. When I was able I shot him a text to ask what was up. During the waiting between my text and him returning my call, I found out that Chris Cornell had died. When we got on the phone finally, that was the reason for the call.
It was by accident that I found Soundgarden in middle school. I think it was swapping CDs on the band bus when Superunknown found it’s way into my ears. It quickly became one of my frequently played albums. Even when I bounced around, experimenting with genres of music (yeah, I was totally into nu-metal for a long while) Soundgarden and their grunge brethren were with me. When Audioslave hit, I was instantly in love. There were many, many time Chris Cornell and his four-octave vocals held my hand, iced my burns, and sang me to sleep.
It seemed like the news that it was suicide hit as fast and as hard as his death did. Reports seem split on if he had exhibited signs of depression or not. The trouble with depression is that for a lot of us, the “signs” have been around so long they’ve just become who we are. So often we hide behind a mask so thick, it hides our struggle from even those closest to us.
I can’t speak for Chris, I only know my own story. But I know that hiding your true struggles becomes an art form. We live in a world where mental illness is constantly second guessed and made light of. There’s still this stigma that hangs over us. Tell someone you broke your arm and they say go to the doctor. Tell them you feel depressed and they ask if you’ve tried just feeling better. As if it was that simple.
If you’re fighting that fight, please know you aren’t alone. It’s easy to feel that way. At times it’s comforting.But these are not battles you have to wage alone. There are people there to help you. National Suicide Prevention Hotline is available 24 hours a day online and on the phone (1-800-273-8255). Here is a link from PsychCentral with numbers for hotlines that specialize various issues.
You are not alone in this. Needing help is not weakness. Asking for help is one of the strongest things you can do. Let’s support each other.
Now please excuse me while I damage my hearing by blasting some Soundgarden/Audioslave/Temple of the Dog.
I mean seriously, what the fuck is going on? I honestly thought by the time I reached my 30s I’d be an “adult” and I’d know what everything was and how everything worked. I had always gotten the impression as a child that anyone over the age of 29 was a certified pro in adulting. For the pass few years Ive been waiting on that feeling to hit me. Like puberty for the soul. And it hasn’t! I thought by now I’d be some serious woman who knows the ins and outs of every situation. I’d be all newspaper and political reform, town meetings and stock indexes. I’d know how the world works and what mature decisions to make.
Spoiler alert: I don’t know shit. I almost have no clue what the fuck is going on. I know things are about to take a nasty turn here in America. I dont understand how we’ve gotten this far. Or how exactly when people forgot about being brothers with their fellow man. That , especially right now, is common. I’m just…still so unsure about everything. I keep looking around for an adult to help talk me through disarming this life bomb. But there aren’t any, and Im stuck with all these wires and only one that can be cut.
I take care of my shit. I raise my babies and wife my husband. But most of the time, I’d rather be curled up somewhere cerebrum in superheroes and scary stories. Sometimes I can’t handle how mean people are. How obsessed with themselves and petty they seem. I have trouble understanding the speed at which this life machine works. A few months can feel like forever but then years pass in a blink. How are we suppose to survive if the cards just keep staking against us?
When will all this nonsense make sense?
Maybe the key question is: Is there any sense to make out of all this?