hope

on suffering.

I've known depression intimately. it's been “clinical.” I've suffered from anxiety attacks. I've tried acupuncture, yoga, meditation, and church - lots of church - the sunday, wednesday varietals with a bible class thrown in. I've gone to 12 step programs. i've been vegan, vegetarian, (twice), fruitarian, done juice fasts, and cleanses. I blamed food, relationships, my job, my drinking habits, or my weight as the reason for my misery.

It all had little or nothing to do with anything. 

I simply didn't know who I was, or what mattered, or what my favorite color was. I never knew if I was fat or thin or pretty or smart. I didn't know what was important, if I should vote democrat or republican, or even vote at all. This went on for a very long time.

I kept suffering, though I didn't want to suffer, and I kept trying to fix it.  I was hospitalized, institutionalized, and beaten. I blamed god or my childhood or my belief I wasn't a good person. I thought Sylvia Plath was romantic. How much pain do we have to be in before someone takes notice? 

No one noticed.

So I tried drugs - legal and illegal. I smoked. I wore black. I got fat. I got thin. My hair fell out. I wrote poetry and had affairs. Then everything changed after I had children. My narcissistic view of myself in the world disintegrated. Joyfully. Painlessly. Seamlessly. There they were, beautiful, unadulterated, flawless. Mine. For a season. To love and nurture and take care of. Not everyone finds bearing children and raising them the solution for a lifetime of pain. But for me, it was that simple. They loved me and I loved them, totally and completely. 

They saved my life.

sorrow

it’s from a million things.

stress. cortisol. hormones. 

not saying no ever. 

not knowing you deserve better.

yeah - there’s sugar and carbs and too much of everything, and secret eating and drinking and crying. 

and a lot of toxic spills on your heart.

but things change - they can and they will. the messes get cleaned up one by one till everything shifts and feels different. inside, outside, all around. 

when you're in love, the world is shiny and bright and food seems unnecessary. 

life is full and satisfying and complete. 

but when love gets broken, the cracks go wide and the empty places go deep, and seem impossible to fill.

you can get fat over it -  if you try to stop the pain. 

start where you are. 

hold on. tight. to something. your cat or your journal or the view out the window. find a place that's quiet and still and remember.

you will remember. you're worth it. worth believing in. worth taking care of.

even if the only one taking care of you, is you.

the lies you've been telling yourself? talk to them. they were there for a reason.

in some weird, wonderful way they were trying to keep you safe - from the big, scary world you landed in. 

everyone has 15 gangsters living in their head. 

the world isn't a bad place. it’s just not perfect. it’s messy.

it’s hot and dry and freezing and warm and blizzardy and tempestuous. it’s true and honest and mostly chock full of pros, and a few cons.

it's black and white and red and green. and so are you.

and when the grass grows, i hear it smile.