This had been one of my favorite pictures. Not just for the sweetness of the father-daughter moment, but for the importance behind it and what I still feel whenever I look at it:
I almost missed this.
Nothing had happened that day to trigger the thought, maybe that’s why I felt a sudden kind of panic at the dormant memories that had flickered awake just then, memories immediately extinguished by the warmth of this moment. By the warmth of my life.
I’ve been through some rough, dark times. Times I almost did not make it out of. I have been suicidal, hospitalized and medicated. I’ve rebuilt myself from the inside into something I thought stronger than before, only to have it all collapse again. And again. And again.
After the last time, I had given up.
At that point, I didn’t feel like my life was even worth a swan song and so I skipped to a painfully slow downward spiral, kicking away from anyone that tried to reach out and help, and if they still persisted, I did what I could to drive them from me. That man in the picture, that man that I would marry, was one of those stubborn ones. I kissed him one night thinking to destroy the friendship that was an obstacle to my complete downfall.
It didn’t work out that way.
Having a family was something I always knew would bring stability and joy and healing. I just knew it, yet I could never find that person who would soothe and balance me out, making me feel that I was, if not normal, at least worthy of love. Until I did. Until I gave up all hope of it.
That man telling me that he also wanted a family changed the way I saw him. Gradually, the shadows cleared and I started to have the smallest hope. Loving him was easy but it took a long time to really, fully trust that he wasn’t going anywhere, for my heart to feel safe in his hands.
We became a family of three and then four, our arms were around our children and our hands clasped forming a protective circle around what mattered most to us. And I was happier than I ever thought I could be. We had each other and I found such strength in that.
And I almost missed it.
Some people think that it’s a weakness to need another person, that we should all be completely strong and self-reliant and mentally sound. But that’s just not a reality for everyone. Some people need the balance of another, a tether to keep them grounded. I’m one of those people. I needed a partner that I loved and trusted fully. I would not have started a family without first having that person, My Person, because I understood that need and that when you make a commitment to marry that person, you are saying resolutely that it is safe to lean on each other, to count on each other, and your family is stronger for it.
I have many people tell me I’m strong for how I am handling all that has happened. However what they are seeing is me in fight mode- single minded and full of adrenaline, standing only because of what happens if I fall.
When something terrible happens everyone rushes to help, but over time they ebb away and you are left alone with it. The awful stillness. You try to keep moving so that the emptiness of your new reality you were flung into doesn’t settle, but life gets exhausting when your always running and eventually you’ll tire of it.
There is danger in the stillness after a storm.
I still feel what I felt the moment I took that picture, but the circle has been torn open and the weight of the feeling has shifted. It is no longer comfortable to carry.
Chris Cornell had no real significance in my life, but when he killed himself I was surprisingly affected by it. I wrote this bit below about why, but never found a reason to make whole post about it. Coming across it recently, I was struck by how frighteningly relevant it is for me at this moment:
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In my high school journalism class we had to do this personal journal thing that seemed more like a way to give the teacher 15 minutes per class to read his newspaper. He never checked the things. I already had an actual personal journal at home so I used to just copy any song lyrics or poetry I could from memory in this one so at least my pen was moving.
This song was in there about 15 times.
Chris Cornell always had really fantastic hair.
I haven’t paid attention to him in probably 20 years, but I remember his voice. And, again, the really great hair. He was more than these things of course. He was, by what I’ve gathered, a level headed family man with children he seemed to adore. When I learned of his suicide, this unexpectedly deep sadness kept bobbing up all day.
Depression is a crushing, seemingly patient but relentless force. If you’ve gone through bout after bout with it, if you’ve had suicidal thoughts or actions and survived, eventually with enough distance put between you and those black days, you start to imagine that you’re clear of it. That you’ve outgrown your demons. That you are free.
It’s terrifying when years later, it comes knocking again because it never forgot your name. All it takes is the right formula of seemingly small things going wrong, words that don’t get digested right, and cold thoughts start pulling at your corners. Then there you are, right back in the fight. And the battlefield gets smaller every time.
But you can imagine that will never happen again. That all you need is to fill your life with what makes you happy and avoid the things that don’t. Just keep looking up. Keep moving forward. You’ve got this.
So when you hear something like happening to someone that seems to have beaten the beast and moved on to a good place in their life, it’s just a profoundly disturbing reminder that you can have money, fame, success, a family, you can have a great voice and beautiful hair, you can have everything you’ve ever wanted and still end up in hanging yourself alone in a hotel bathroom in fucking Detroit.
E.B White had an inspiring reply to a man who had lost his faith in humanity. You can read the letter in it’s entirety here :http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/01/wind-clock-for-tomorrow-is-another-day.html But it’s the last few lines that stuck with me and I’ve been thinking of them often in the last few months.
“Hang onto your hat. Hang onto your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.”
I hope we all always remember to wind the clock.
“In your house I long to be
Room by room patiently
I’ll wait for you there
Like a stone
I’ll wait for you there
Alone”
