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a little night music

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it has been a beautiful fight

still
is.


so it seems the happier i get the less i have to say.
i’m trying to figure out how to continue speaking about life without sadness.  it’s weird.  sadness wasn’t only a lens for me, it was a way of life.  and now i don’t have that anymore.  and that feels strange.
wonderful, obviously.  but strange.  

there were 7 years of profound depression, which also happened to be 7 years of friends and family holding me and caring for me and loving me.
now i am happy and stable and happy to report that i am stable.
it feels like i have nothing more to say: i was sad.  the world was sad. i am no longer sad.

to be honest i’m having trouble placing myself.  that sounds ungrateful but it also sounds true: i’ve spent 7 years engrossed in unbearable sadness and now how on earth am i supposed to define myself without that?
i’m not so sure that i can, or that i should.

i’ve always struggled with who i become after sadness; i have never wanted to be a poster-girl survivor who …

the seven habits of unbearable sadness

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so, this post is an obvious little harkening back to the days of “7 habits of highly effective [someone],” but i don’t mean it in a rude way.  i think if we are going to celebrate the people who we think are doing it right, we need to look towards people who find themselves in darkness too - we do not need to celebrate or glorify their depression or anxiety.  but we do need to learn about it, to try to understand, and to recognize that there is both value and deprecation in these habits. 

this is a small compendium of seven aspects of depression; the terrible and the great.  because depression is a reality.  this is not a treatise on how to cope and move on - i don’t think i am qualified to tell people how to do that.  i am trying to look at the clearest reality of unbearable sadness.  let’s see how i do.

(i would also like to note that i am not trying to say THESE ARE THE HABITS THAT ALL DEPRESSED PEOPLE HAVE.  what i am trying to say is “these are the habits that i developed when i wa…

i love you but

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this is a piece i started writing a long time ago.
by "started writing" i mean i had the title in my mind and i had a general idea what i wanted it to be about.  but when i sat down and started writing it got away from me and became some kind of wisdom i know nothing about.

originally this was supposed to be a poem for the men who could not love me.  not a biting critique, but rather a simple exploration of why love needs limits.  because as bitter as i usually am when relationships crumble beneath my feet, i can usually (a few moments later) look back and smile at how people know when and how and why they cannot love.  that is not an easy thing, and i appreciate it when i see it.

i have my heart wide open.  it's not necessarily a good thing, but it's not all bad either.

i don't really know entirely what this is about.  i just started writing and all of these words were being hurled around in my mind and it was both confusing and lovely.  this became about the d…

the last six years

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i gave a speech at the student mental health panel a few days ago.  it was probably a mediocre speech but it was fun and a good crowd and i felt good afterwards.
i always said i would tell my friends and trumpet around when i had finally won my 'battle' against depression.  again, i don't think it's a battle.  it is a reality.  and i never really did that, and i never will.  but this is a post to say one thing: i'm still here, and i'm proud of that.  but i'm not proud of myself for staying alive; that doesn't feel noble or courageous at all.  i'm proud because i have learned to love the darkest version of myself.  and that is why i do not want to erase the last six years.  and that is why i'm writing this post.
sometimes i feel like i've lost 6 years of my life.  i stayed in bed.  i wasn't a leader and i wasn't a champion and i didn't rise victorious in any great fight for something important.  and there are a lot of things i be…

prayer for a cousin, with buckets of love

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there was a time  when i thought the sun  was a myth hidden in words like demeter and persephone
there is fog here and the night comes too quickly and you are wrapped in  sadness.
tears fall out of my eyes like anvils
sometimes only gravity keeps us here.
and i am only here to tell you when the fog lifts
the light will be where you left it.

(also this: https://theburninghell.bandcamp.com/track/everything-will-probably-be-ok)

songs without words

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hold your head high boy, because we've been here before.  we have been to this place where sadness holds us and tears us apart.  but we're quiet now.  we have love but we can't look at it.  silence is our secret.  it keeps our hearts at bay and let's us keep walking through life like we never were.  and my how we've grown. hold your head high boy, because we've been here before. tell me the reason why time has this hold on us tell me why the clock  talks like a devil. so let us hold our hearts apart and never wonder but my
how we've grown.  

the collected writings of my teenage years

so i wrote a lot when i was a teenager.
it was usually through angst, but also through the general perceptions of a pre-depressed mind.
looking back, some things aren't so bad.  most of them are.  but i'm sharing them anyways, because i've had a hell of a time trying to write without my sadness, and this will maybe remind me that it is possible to create things when you're not miserable.

onwards.
(i should mention that this little foray into my history wouldn't be possible without bluekaffee.  hat tip for that.)
i'm starting with the newest things (high school cool) because they are less embarrassing.  or maybe more embarrassing because they are more recent and i can't hide behind the general guise of the absolute hideousness of junior high. nothing recent, because that's just scary.

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Submitted: Mar 20, 2006 08:17:20 PM by kiss kiss bang bang
and we can smile but we just can&…