Missing You

The years race by, speeding out of control.

It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, heard you, smelled you, felt the warmth of your embrace.

The thought of never is intolerable.

How can it be, that the distance between us is immeasurable?

Everyday, I depended on you to listen to my troubles, share in my joy, sit in my sorrow.

And now, I have to trust that you are there.

I have to hope you can hear my silent tears.

My strength came from you, and is tested each day without you.

Lost in the world, stumbling through until tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day too.

How much longer can it be?

Can anyone hear me?

I don’t think they are listening, or they just don’t understand.

Loneliness overwhelms the empty spaces.

How could one person matter so much?

Oh, but how could they not?

Love is limitless.

When there are limits, it is not love.

The true test.

I miss you every day, a little more than yesterday.

Depression, Hope, Love, Tom Petty, Uncategorized

True Happiness

img_3133-1True happiness. That is what is in this picture. I started this blog on July 1st, the year anniversary of when this photo was taken, but could not find the words. Any of them. This was the night Tom Petty helped make a twenty year old wish come true. This was the night that everything was perfect. This was the night that the pain faded, and pure happiness took over.

This was the night I decided to live, and not wait. I went with my gut, and upgraded my tickets to front row. I had always talked myself out of them in the past, telling myself that I didn’t deserve them, or the money was better used for something else. That voice exited long enough to purchase them, and quickly returned as guilt came crashing in.

Because of my experience of life never going as planned, I could not get excited before the tickets were in my hand, and I was in my seat. It couldn’t be real. I didn’t want to work up the excitement, only to be let down. I was stressed out and anxious as I waited to receive the tickets as the rain poured out of the sky.

As they scanned the tickets, and we made our way to our seats, my anxiety changed to pure bliss. If only for a moment, I would have my chance to see Tom, and maybe, be seen by him. The magic from the night outweighed anything I could have wished for.

Still, a year later, I have a hard time believing it happened the way it did. Darkness turned to light in the moments on that night. I mattered in the sea of insignificance, if only for a second. Everything lined up, and my wish was granted. It could not have been more perfect.

There are very few moments in my life that play out this way. Or, very few that I allow myself to accept. When I went to write this a few weeks ago, I wanted more than anything to feel that happiness again. To find that smile and see the sparkle. The harder I looked, the more distant I became from that night.

For the moment, it was perfect. A dream. An everlasting memory. I didn’t want to taint it with the pain that this year brought. The pain of outliving most everyone I love. Sadly, Tom has been added to the list. But, for the moment, only a year ago, the lifetime of pain left my body.

I long for that feeling. A feeling I did not know I was lacking. The most important thing I had forgotten was to live. To live in the moment. To appreciate the little things, and the big ones. To let the love in. To let the love out. To be. To just be.

Searching for perfection will always lead to failure. To find happiness, the kind that is in my eyes from this night, I need to remember how simple it really is. Expect nothing, and be grateful for what is.

Tom always has a song to get me through. A perfect one for tonight, and every night after, Wildflowers, because I belong somewhere I feel free.

Thank you Tom, for the memories, the magic, and the words that reach my soul. ❤️

Depression, mental illness

Out in the Darkness

Last year I made my New Year’s resolution to write a blog every week. The perfectionist in me felt that this was doable. It’s only fifty-two posts after all. For the first half of the year I succeeded. I wrote a post every week. Even as I went out to Hollywood, and then Tennessee, I made sure that I had something written for the week. My desire to be my best, to do more, to be everything to everyone pushed me forward. I couldn’t give up, I’ve come to far. Then, out in the distance I saw more of the same.

An overwhelming sense of darkness fell over me, and I was unable to care about one of my favorite things. I have gone years without writing. The torture of having words trapped in my head, with no place to go was enough to keep me stuck. Self-sabotage. It is one thing I mastered early in life. If I could make myself feel miserable, no one else could. I could deprive myself of joy, and the darkness could linger. I didn’t like the darkness.

I believed that to be true until recently as I watched the days, and then weeks pass by without allowing myself to release the words, and find joy in doing something that I love. Secretly, I craved it. I long for the normalcy of the miserableness. Changing what you know is a layered process. I wanted it to be fixed now. I didn’t have time to wait for it to go away.

I lit a candle to illuminate the darkness, to give the appearance that it was gone. This worked for a while. But the real issue wasn’t being addressed. The desire to be all and do all takes too much of me. I give, and empty myself, but no one replenishes what they take. I smile, and push ahead. The smile is much like the candle. It hides the truth. It shows what people want to see.

I was trapped. Stuck. The depths of darkness held me tight. Whispering….shhh…and erasing all the creativity that I had. The longer I waited for the words to release, the stronger the hold of the darkness was. I couldn’t shake it off of me, even now I struggle with finding the words. Breaking the silence, and freeing myself from the weight of the shadows.

I know the darkness will always be there. I know that the light will always come. Knowing is half the battle.

To the darkness.

To the light.