Movement is Prayer
My body knew how to worship God before I ever knew how to speak ;
through movement, dance -
tapping my feet to the rhythm of soul.
Now I have to relearn what I knew at birth;
that I was saved before I could speak -
that the truest prayers don’t require words.
She's Everywhere
Krista O’Reilly-Davi-Digui
‘She’s Everywhere’ – It’s hard to capture the essence of this song in a sentence. I suppose it’s about being in a valley of dry bones and choosing to believe that life will reemerge one day despite all evidence to the contrary. It’s my favorite song on the EP and I am dedicating it to Krista O’ Reilly Davi-Digui. I have never met Krista, but I have been following her writing and journey for many years. I discovered her when she published an article called “What if All I Want is A Mediocre Life”; and felt she had articulated a sentiment I hadn’t yet found the words to express.
Krista lost her son to suicide last Winter - a loss no mother should ever have to survive. She continues to breathe each day, rise each morning, show up for life and her daughters, and share her heart with others as an educator and writer.
Krista, thank you for graciously accepting the invitation to write this guest blog post. May your words speak to any parents out their grieving the loss of a child. Krista, may joy touch your life in unexpected, unlikely, and healing ways. I am so glad you are who you are.
TO A PARENT WHO HAS LOST A CHILD TO SUICIDE:
By Krista O’Reily-Davi-Digui
It seemed as if you turned toward/somewhere else, away from all/our help, so that we are left to/ask for your help now, not in answers/but in asking all the difficult/and beautiful questions your life/bequeathed. --David Whyte
10 months ago, I lost one of my favourite people. A kindred spirit (though he’d roll his eyes at that). At 23, my son Jairus had his own best friends, but he was one of mine. He made my life better, more interesting, funnier. Harder. I loved spending time with him, and he helped me become a better human.
But when he left, I felt battered. Battered and bruised and desperately weary.
I felt like I had been run over by a freight train, my crushed lungs fought for breath and my muscles ached for reprieve. I felt like my spirit had been used as a punching bag and I was left in a state of shock; an essential piece of my own body, mind, and spirit had been violently ripped away.
Grief is visceral, not reasonable: the howling at the center of grief is raw and real. It is love in its most wild form. -Megan Devine
Loving a child who suffers is hard work. There is no guidebook for this journey which is at least top 3 in my” list of hardest things.” Loving someone who suffers means you say yes to advocating, pouring out, holding fast, putting your own needs to the side because everything you have to give is on reserve for the one who hurts most.
But you hold it all together, take another breath, and keep fighting. Because of course, you’d give your own life in exchange for his. If you could.
CHILD LOSS IS A NEW LETTING GO EVERY MORNING
If there being no guidebook for the journey falls in my top 3 hardest things about loving someone who suffers, so does the reality that you’d do it all over again a million times because you love your child fiercely but you don’t get that chance. They are gone. Every morning they are gone.
Every morning and every birthday and every Mother’s Day and Christmas and anniversary of their death they are gone all over again. Every time one of their friends gets married or announces an engagement or a new career on Facebook, every time your girlfriends talk about their adult children, you are reminded anew that your precious, wanted, needed child is gone. They were real and they were loved, and they were here and now they are gone. One day their younger sisters will grow older than them.
The choices of a grieving parent feel limited: give in to your rage and despair and a sorrow so deep and threatening it could surely drown an entire town or choose to live anyway. Choosing to live anyway means saying yes to living with pain too big for you to address all at once. Choosing to look for hope when a piece of your heart has been ripped out of your body and there are days that the only thing you can do is climb back into bed early afternoon and hope for the comfort of sleep. Choosing to show up to each day for your children who remain, no matter what, because they matter too. They deserve a full, beautiful life and a mom who is present and whole for them.
Regardless of how much beauty there is in your life, how much you have to live for, it’s an agony unlike any other to shove all the raw and unruly pain and fear and grief and love for your missing child into a corner of your body so you have some room leftover for life. It is a cruel thing that the world has continued spinning instead of pausing to acknowledge your child’s absence.
When you try to take someone's pain away from them, you don't make it better. You just tell them it's not OK to talk about their pain. -Megan Devine
THE WORK OF LEARNING TO LIVE AFTER CHILD LOSS
It’s hard work to muster joy when your child’s ashes live in a wooden box on the coffee table. Maybe one day you’ll choose to part with them. But not today.
It’s raw and painful work to give away your son's belongings little by little, to close accounts and clean out his apartment and to acknowledge that as far as the soul-stretching emotional labor of mourning goes, you’ve only touched the tip of the iceberg so far. This scares you.
It’s messy work learning who to trust, or where you feel safe, in a world that loves unsolicited advice-giving, pat answers, and unfailingly cheery greeting cards clearly not written by a parent who has just buried their first-born.
It’s vulnerable work giving yourself permission to laugh and savor good food and watch movies and soak up the sunshine and read good books and make love to your husband and rub your daughters’ shoulders when at your innermost core you are still, ten months in, finding your way through the thick wilds of grief and it may be that you’ll always feel this way.
It’s good and important, conscious work to continually move toward each other as a family when a loss like this could easily tear you apart and the data on mental and physical health outcomes and divorce rates post child-loss is dismal at best.
It’s beautiful work to give yourself permission to feel all of it and to test the truth that you are strong enough to feel it all and remain standing. To acknowledge that you adored your child and that he deserved a better, kinder life than he got, and it is incomprehensible that you only got 23 years with him. It is not enough.
And last in my list of top 3 hardest things about loving a child who suffers is telling the truth that you are ready to start looking ahead. You’ll bring him with you (you’ll never, ever leave him behind) but also, you’re ready to look ahead. One tentative, hopeful glance at a time.
Krista xo
Krista works as a writer & Joyful Living Educator at alifeinprogress.ca. She helps messy humans like herself quiet the noise of comparison, perfectionism, and fear and show up fully to their imperfect and beautiful lives in every season.
Donations to the art scholarship Krista has created in her sons name can be given here.
I AM HERE
Rebecca Riek
‘I Am Here’ – Is about returning to the present and noticing the Divine in the midst. I am dedicating this song to my dear friend Rebecca; a survivor of war, infinite grief, and debilitating anxiety. Our paths crossed rather providentially, and I am blessed to have been at the right place at the right time. She is a passionate activist for adequate and culturally sensitive mental health care for refugees. She is in the process of birthing an organization with this mission called ‘Road of Hope’. My friend, I humbly bow to all you have endured. Your spirit is radiant.
Words from Rebecca
What’s been the hardest part living with mental illness/struggling with mental wellness?
The hardest part is having it in general, denial, keeping up with daily demands, self exhaustion from overthinking that everything is my fault including my mum’s sickness.
If you think back on a time when you mental/emotional suffering was most severe, what would your ‘now self’ say to ‘that self’?
I would probably tell myself to keep my suffering to myself because most people made fun of it, which caused me more harm. If I wasn’t on my feet I would be gone by now because of people’s criticism.
What would you say to someone who is currently facing what you have also gone through?
Not everyone will understand what you’re going through and they will never understand it, and not everyone will listen. Lean towards to those who mean to help in listening to you and not those who will cause more wounds.
What has been your anchor and source of endurance during the most challenging times?
I am my only source of healing and if I don’t do it who will? And what if I give up, who will remain with my little siblings on this world? These were and still are my strengths.
Annie
‘Annie’ is about anxiety, intrusive thoughts, rumination, and attending to the petrified and despairing child within. I am dedicating this song to a dear friend, relentless advocate, community organizer, badass mother, and my favorite co-facilitator (we co-lead a domestic violence support group every Fall for our respective jobs). I love you, thank you for sharing your life with me.
From Jen:
When I was first diagnosed with clinical depression, after attempting suicide it didn’t come to me as a surprise. I knew better then anyone else that I was depressed. I just didn’t know what to do about it. Twenty five years later, some days I still don’t know. The journey towards mental wellness for me is often taking a few steps forward and a couple back.
Looking back and remembering a time when my emotional suffering was the worst, would have been 20 years ago when I lost my mom. When I think back to this time, the emotions are absolutely overwhelming. To be completely honest, I am still working on the trauma that was caused when I experienced this loss.
My journey has also included living in an abusive relationship. I didn’t recognize it as abusive, and I definitely never put a label on it. Feelings of embarrassment and shame were overwhelming. I was in denial. I began working with a therapist to create boundaries to keep myself emotionally safe. The feelings of loneliness and unworthiness were intense during this time.
At last, I was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult. This totally opened my eyes. Looking back at my life, I came to understand why I operated the way I did. I find it helpful at times, to be able to explain to others why I might jump from topic to topic without explanation, or why my emotions can be intense and reactive at times. I find it helps me form more understanding and genuine relationships with people.
Some things that I have found most helpful…
Medication, it took me years of trying different medications for depression, anxiety and adhd. I don’t love taking medication everyday, but I know that’s the wisest choice for myself.
Therapy. Not “fun” but in conjunction with medication, it has been such a useful tool for me. Therapy has taught me so much about myself, and has helped me work through some difficult seasons in my life.
Spirituality. My belief that we are all sacred creations and have great purpose on this earth has been an anchor for me in my life.
Supportive family and friendships have carried me through the darkest times. I believe whole-heartedly that we were created to live in community and share our lives with one another.
Release of "She's Everywhere"
Alright folks, here’s the scuttlebutt.
I am releasing three songs this week. A wee ‘EP’ titled “She’s Everywhere”. I will be releasing each song independently in honor of someone who has walked (or more likely crawled and clawed through) a painstaking journey with mental health afflictions and loss.
Jen Gill, Rebecca Riek, Krista Davi-Digui
I am connected to these three women in different ways, and bearing witness to their stories has been an experience of standing on holy ground. Not because their stories are rosy, no, they are unfair and cruel; unjust and grievous.
The holiness is in their spirits, and in their vulnerability. It’s in their commitment to standing with others in reclaiming life. It’s in the way they carry that which cannot be forgotten, while offering whatever fruit has come of the suffering to others in the name compassion and justice.
My respect for these three women is so incredibly deep.
My own journey is one filled with months and years of hopelessness. Depersonalization “disorder” and OCD took away my entire life, eventually giving way to clinical depression. These songs were written on the days when the clouds briefly parted and I momentarily glimpsed something beyond the darkness.
I share these songs with prayers for all those who feel their minds are broken – who are paralyzed by obsessive or suicidal thoughts - who struggle to hold hope and face barrier after barrier while seeking wellness. I will never know or understand what you’ve lived. Nonetheless I recorded these songs for you. Your mind is beautiful.
Dear intrusive thoughts
Dear intrusive thoughts,
I am writing you to remind of what you already know but have forgotten. The order of these reminders is irrelevant. Whichever is easiest to trust, begin there.
Albert Einstein said that no problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it. It’s absolutely true.
Bottom line - you won’t be able to think yourself out of feeling scared.
You think the ‘what’ of your anxiety is the matter at hand. But anxiety always needs a topic on which so perseverate, whether it be health, suicide, sexuality, a conflict, or existential uncertainty. The thoughts get sticky and snowball when you believe they are true. But you mustn’t forget – just because you thought it doesn’t mean it’s true.
Whatever the theme of the week, whatever the plague of ‘what ifs’, it all boils down to fear of uncertainty, of not-knowing, of death. Every single obsession points back to a core existential fear. That’s the place that needs some attention – some love, some truth, some comfort, some care.
When you worry that the thoughts will never stop, remember they are like the waves; it will become still again.
At some point the worry will morph into anxiety over anxiety (rather than whatever unanswerable question came prior), just remember it all points back to the same source. Peel back the surface layers (the thoughts) and beneath is a well of fear that has very little to do with the particulars.
You must approach that fear as if it were a child. And we know a child won’t calm down if the parent responds to child’s worries in agreement - “you’re right, the dark is fucking scary - your right a witch probably does live in the closet.
Touch you’re anxiety like it’s a frightened child. If the parent in you is unavailable, then call upon someone you can be that parent for you. But remember, we need to grow your inner, wise, loving parent. You can’t keep deferring to someone else because you aren’t willing to find that source of love in yourself…because it does reside within.
I said it already but I’ll say it again…you won’t be able to think yourself out of this mental rut. We must continue to move and show up for life. Look back over this week - when was your anxiety the most quiet - what were you doing? I can almost guarantee you were actively engaged in an activity that required you to be present. As hard as it is and as paralyzing as this anxiety feels, remember that you always feel better when you choose to show up for life. Even if it’s watching a T.V. show that makes you laugh, or listening to a podcast where you learn something new, or visiting a friend. Yes, you may have to redirect your thoughts and attention back to the present 20, 30, 40, 100 times throughout the conversation, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean you failed or it’s futile. Every time you show up, every time you notice the intrusive thought and return to ask a question, or look your friend in the eye, or feel the ground beneath your feet….you are returning to reality; to something more true than the thoughts in your head.
Don’t forget all the mantras you have used in the past to act as anchors; to help you release obsessive checking. It’s best to choose one and commit to it for several days. Some of your favorites are as follows:
“I trust this thought isn’t true.”
“I am here”
“I chose into this moment.”
“Hello fear of being nobody” or “Hello need for certainty”
“All will be well”
My dear, I know it feels unbearable and unmanageable, but what weather system doth fail to evolve in time? Now place your hand on your heart with utmost tenderness. Summon Loving Presence to remind you that the ‘what ifs’ are just symptoms of a wound in need of a Mother.
Let those tears come. Let Her comfort you.
Art below is by @frizzkid . Check her work out. It’s fantastic.
Also, many of the practices and perspectives I have adopted to help cope with anxiety come from the work of Sheryl Paul. I highly recommend her work to anyone who suffers with intrusive, obsessive thinking.
2,169 Likes, 12 Comments - Hana (she/her) (@frizzkidart) on Instagram: "Today's affirmation art: I deserve to live in this moment instead of ruminating over my anxieties..."
Conjuring Light
Dear sentient beings,
We have just rounded the bend into a new year and I have decided to share a compilation of tunes I’ve entitled ‘Conjuring Light’. The idea for this mix visited me several weeks ago while thinking about how I had failed to make a dear friend her annual birthday mix. Whilst contemplating a potential collection of songs to gift her retroactively, I started to consider songs that have anointed me with specks of light over the years - songs that eased the edge off depression or empowered me to deepen my breath - songs that graced me with a sense of peace, even if for only a few passing seconds. I started jotting down the names of these songs and lo and behold, there were enough to make a fine little playlist.
The melodies, lyrics, and rhythms of the following songs have been companions and allies on a journey where music had become meaningless and tasteless. They were a gentle breath on tired flame and often felt like the only songs worth listening to.
I find it so extremely scary when my senses can’t comprehend or sense beauty; when the very things that bring purpose and joy and a reason to live ignite nothing. During these harsh seasons, however, I have always found that every so often a moment arises where I momentarily feel the warmth of love and goodness in the world. These songs have in many instances facilitated the reclamation of that holiness.
To all the artists and musicians who show up with an open heart and take time to shape and craft what often just starts as a little melody or chord progression. Thank- you. Thank you for participating in the wonderful and laborious work of co-creation; for being an instrument and mouthpiece of Creator. I bow to each one of these songs and artists.
Dusty Trails – Lucius
Have Mercy on Me – The Porter’s Gate
Ya Hey – Vampire Weekend
Father Father – Laura Mvula
Mehcinut – Jeremy Dutcher
Sweet Tuesday – iskwe
Glory – The Acorn
Dry Bones – Sam Amidon
Psalm 126 – Bifrost Arts
Halo Light – Buck Meek
Lost it to Trying – Son Lux
Praying – Kesha
I have posted this playlist on Spotify or Apple Music as well. Just click the links below. Enjoy!
Conjuring Light - Apple Music
Conjuring Light - Spotify
Ode to the Darkest Nights
This post deals with topics related to depression and touches on suicide. If these topics are triggering for you right now, please honour that. Perhaps you might like to skip to the last paragraph.
My hope in writing about depression is to honour all those who feel, perhaps due to shame, fear, or self-judgement, that their inner landscape is not worthy of being known. In the Christmas season we often feel that we are “supposed” to experience ubiquitous merriment. I find that feelings of isolation and despair become all the more heightened when an invisible illness prevents me from experiencing life the way our culture says I ‘should’. I find consolation in knowing that I am not alone - that I belong to a community of thousands if not millions who have gone or are going through similar trials. And so I share this reflection with the simple prayer and intention that it might nourish hope and bless someone, somewhere.
I speak from my own journey knowing that no two people experience depression, anxiety, or any other manifestation of mental illness the same way; and that each person has unique barriers based on their social identity, personality, available resources, support, etc. But regardless, no matter who you are, to be tormented by your mind is a wretched and unbearable reality.
Christmas Day 2017, I hardly said a word. I was exhausted from the constant stream of dark, intrusive thoughts that had been bombarding my mind for months. Crippling anxiety had finally given way to the black hole of depression and it felt like a full-time dementor was living by my side relentlessly chanting its favorite lines of psychological torture.
Christmas Day, 2017 I couldn’t hold it together. Whatever energy I had summoned upon to appear okay, smile, engage in conversation, and practice mindfulness had been wholly depleted. I was scared for my life because there was no life to be found.
Living in this state with no end in sight is pure and utter hell. Quite frankly it amazes me that anyone survives. But we do. And for those who don’t...I get it. I don’t think anyone is weaker or less resilient because they tap out. For me, the thought of dying was sweet; perhaps because I don’t believe death is the end. Death meant the end of torture and darkness. It meant healing and freedom and home. But, I also believed (and still do) that we move through cycles of death and resurrection during our finite, material lives – nothing lasts forever. And it was this fragile, languishing belief that kept me going….’there will be a better tomorrow’. But god almighty, it sure takes more than 3 days in a tomb to rise again.
There was no going back to work after Christmas. I returned to my parent’s house because I needed a caregiver and could not be alone. At this point in my journey I felt I had tried everything. I’d seen a psychiatrist, a naturopath and tried various anti-depressants and supplements. I practiced mindfulness and meditation and met monthly with a spiritual director. I went off caffeine and alcohol and sugar. I exercised and ate healthy when I was well enough to do so. I’d done EMDR therapy, Bodytalk, and was continuing to see a therapist. I had taken responsibility for my health and there I was, battling the worst episode of depression I had yet to endure. As a last ditch effort and in a spirit of desperation, I decided to try a new anti-depressant. As I got myself into bed and brought that first dose of venalafaxine to my lips, I whispered under my breath ‘please God, please let this work, this is my only hope.”
Going on this new medication was brutal. Looking back I’m not sure how I persevered the transition with its nightmares and panic attacks. However, within a month something shifted. I noticed that daily life tasks weren’t as laborious and eating was no longer a chore. One night my friends got me out cross-country skiing and as we sat in a warming hut, drinking hot cocoa, I laughed the kind of laugh that evokes a sense of aliveness. In that moment I felt I was human again.
Two years have past and I continue to rely on certain things to cope and manage symptoms of depression and anxiety. I probably always will. Medication, therapy, meditation, dancing, my supportive mother and partner, board games. They are my lifesavers.
There is a passage by Rilke that I would read multiple times a day the Winter of 2017. For reasons I cannot explain these words became an anchor. I share them with you here as an offering. If they don’t enliven hope please disregard them.
Part of my pathway through depression includes noticing what sparks life, hope, and feelings of comfort, and allowing myself to move towards those things without judgment. I know that what one person finds hopeful may not be true for another, and so, I encourage us all to step towards that which feeds hope for us - however small and fleeting. And to honour whatever makes that movement a tad easier. xoxo.
Here are Rilke’s words
"Why do you want to persecute yourself with the question of where all this is coming from and where it is going? Since you know, after all, that you are in the midst of transitions and you wished for nothing so much as to change. If there is anything unhealthy in your reactions, just bear in mind that sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself from what is alien; so one must simply help it to be sick, to have its whole sickness and to break out with it, since that is the way it gets better.
So you mustn't be frightened if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression, since after all you don't know what work these conditions are doing inside you."
acceptance or betterment
I do not know how life is supposed to feel now.
If I once experienced life in technicolor, it is now softer - subtle, and lacks lustre.
I am wholly grateful to function - to enjoy once again the company of friends and family and music and nature - to have enough energy to care for myself and others.
And then there are days when I wonder: is this it? Will I ever return to feeling and experiencing life the way I once did? Has depression taken something from me that it will never give back? Do I resign myself to this new emotional landscape and grieve the vibrancy of the past? Or do I hold on to emotional vitality as a fundamental part of my essence and seek her out? Do I go off anti-depressants? Are they the culprit? What if they’re not? What if I go off my meds and have a major relapse?
Sometimes I really don’t know when to accept and when to keep hoping. When to stop viewing my numbness, or any number of unwanted symptoms as problems that need fixing - and when to keep striving for a life where I am more alive.
I don’t really think the two are mutually exclusive. Nonetheless, the tension remains.
Birdie
When I look for that flame and cannot find it,
I grieve the way like used to be –
like when I was young and overcome by spontaneous waves of joy.
But,
I must remember
even though the mountaintop evades me
I still watch birds build their home
and narrate in first person as though
I am a sparrow.
When I speak my little
birdie voice
I am glad,
and know there is Life.
A Song - 'Feedback'
Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life. — Anne Lamott
My partner and I made this little video this past Summer. We were cycling home and talking about my tendency to approach artistic endeavours only when the conditions are such that there’s a high likelihood I’ll be happy with the end result. I know there is goodness in working with lyrics and chords and melodies until a desired sound is achieved. We all approach art hoping to fully communicate a concept, idea, experience, or feeling and do them justice. However, I can get so bogged down by constant dissatisfaction in whatever I’m making that it kills any joy in the process.
I experienced this tendency two nights ago when I carved a pumpkin. I noticed inward resistance to starting because I didn’t want to carve a pumpkin with a crappy Superstore knife. I wanted those fine little serrated carving knives that allow you to make intricate patterns. When the eyelashes on my jack-o-lantern’s face looked nothing like eyelashes, I became frustrated and disappointed. The face I wanted to create looked nothing like the image I had in my mind. I’ll be honest, for a about five seconds I just wanted to toss in the towel. But since it was just pumpkin carving and the point of the activity was fun, I let it go and decided to embrace my pumpkin for who she had become ( plus mine still looked better than my partner’s :) .
Every now and then, when I was in the throes of the depression, I would sit down at the piano or pick up my guitar and just play. Sometimes just a few chords would come out. I did not judge what I was doing or the simplicity of what I was creating. Honestly, I was just proud of myself for showing up. The goal of producing something worthy of my approval was not even on my mind. Ironically, sometimes the beginning of a song would take shape during those rather pathetic songwriting sessions. And in fact several of them got completed when I was well enough to write lyrics and give them some focused energy. I often have to remind myself that just showing up and being open ought to be the goal. Nowadays, it’s that damn, nagging need for those little serrated carving knives that blocks my openness and okayness to accept whatever emerges when I sit down to write.
In an effort to combat resistance and perfectionism I am sharing with ya’ll poems and writings and songs that well, I think could use a lot more work. And that’s okay. I can still work on them, but I can also hold the process a lot more loosely.
When my partner and I got home that day, we set up a microphone. I sat down and sang this song. It’s an oldie but one I hold dear to my heart. This was the second take. There were only two. In a spirit of true rebellion I did no practice beforehand, and am now sharing it; imperfect and lovely - just as it is. Enjoy.
You belong simply because you are here
You belong simply because you are here.
In however many ways
you’ve been made to feel otherwise
that’s how many times we’ll
anoint those lies with light.
I know you’re wondering if there is room.
Don’t fear.
There is no limit to how
much beauty and hope the ocean can hold.
You and you and you
are all on this earth
to feed the lake.
When criticism arrives and pollutes the water,
as it surely will,
the sea has agreed
to carry that voice back to it’s rightful place.
A paper boat will do.
If all you can offer is a single note or crooked line
It’s more than enough.
The lake will take it into Herself
And hold it -
like a sacred offering.
The idea of ‘feeding the lake’ is not my own. It comes from a wonderful book by Madeline L’engle called “Walking on Water”. This book entered my life when I needed it most; reminding me that all of us, no matter how meager or imperfect our contributions, are on this earth for the sake of co-creation.
I found this copy in a used bookstore. It was only after I finished reading the book that I discovered Madeline’s handwritten signature on the 2nd page. I do believe her spirit led this book into my hands.
Regarding the things you need to do but don't want to do
Don’t trouble yourself with questions like:
Do I feel like it?
Or, do I want to do it?
We already know the answer.
It’s “no”.
And do not trouble yourself with - why?
Why don’t I feel like it?
Why don’t I want to get out of bed?
Why was I made this way?
And god forbid you start that comparison game
with questions such as:
Why is it so much easier for her?
How come they feel excitement
while al I feel is dread?
Friend,
I have asked those questions a thousand times
and have yet to find an answer.
I don’t know.
But may I suggest these questions instead:
How do you feel once your doing it?
What’s it like after?
What do notice when you’re putting stitches into fabric
and no longer obsessing
over unanswerable questions?
What I know is this.
For some of us it will always feel like work,
but to not do it is to wilt.
And so we water our earth
whether we want to or not,
because that’s the only way
we come back to life.
I wrote this little poem or reminder to myself last Winter in the bathtub when I realized that my longing to feel interested in life was getting in the of movement. I was always waiting for a ‘feeling’ to arrive that would spur me into action and became aware that at this rate of thinking I was doomed.
Yes, ‘feelings’ used to fuel my drive to cook and make music and garden and socialize and get out the door. But now longing and waiting for emotive ignitions to return only perpetuated my sense of loss and that popular shamed-based thought ‘what’s wrong with me?’
If I’m completely honest, once immobile I rarely feel like moving. Like if I sit down, I never FEEL like getting up. Hence why I find it impossible to get out of bed - even on a good day. Getting going is like paddling a stationary canoe against wind. But once I start it inevitably gets easier. And sometimes the wind even dies down, or I turn a corner and the current is in my favour.
For the most part I have made my peace with this current reality; that the things I need to do because they are good for me, I won’t feel like doing. But I must do them anyway, with heaps of compassion of course for the days my efforts don’t move me far. xoxo.
WELCOME! AND WHY? AND NEXT CHAPTER;
Dearest earthlings,
Welcome here. This site is an attempt to create a platform from which to share the music, reflections, and poems I have been writing over the last while. This may or may not be the first time I started a site with said intention. Last time, however, it seems I got caught up in the winds of fear, laziness, and that nagging temptation to stay small. I succumbed.
For those who have followed my musical journey, you will have likely noticed that I’ve been laying low for a good while now. In private, however, I have been writing. It’s just that the prospect of sharing these little seeds has felt extremely vulnerable. You see, the last couple years of my life haven’t been easy. Roughly three years ago life as I knew it ended, and another one began. There was life before mental illness - and now - life with mental illness.
I’m still trying to figure out what it looks like to be a songwriter and poet in chapter two.
So why am I trying again? Well I believe that just because we aren’t “successful” at something the first go around, it doesn’t mean there isn’t value or worth in trying again. The greater impetus, however, has come as a result of a meditation I do semi-regularly. In this meditation I imagine I have only several months to live. I try to feel the weight of that reality in my body, and in doing so I sense what matters most to me and reflect on how I would spend my last weeks on this earth. This may sound morbid to some, but personally it helps me put life in perspective. The only problem with this visualization exercise is that when I envision the last months of my life, I am doing something that I am unfortunately too scared to do now; which is, releasing songs and words into the hands of the Universe. In this vision, as I watch myself feverishly write down thoughts and record songs, I notice I am motivated by one thing only. Hope. Hope that perhaps a song or poem I have written will help someone feel less alone, less crazy, less alienated. Feel a touch closer to Light.
This little visualization exercise leaves me no other choice but to look fear square in the eyes; primarily the fear of being judged or not good enough. It seems that when I am dying, however, I no longer care what people will think. I’m just scared of leaving behind the people I love.
My story with mental health is far too complicated to put into a blogpost, but I reckon it will come out over time in bits and pieces.
In short, I am a survivor of a dissociative “disorder” called depersonalization and clinical depression. Anxiety loves to follow me around wherever I go. Somedays we get along, other days she gets pretty loud and mean.
This site is for all of us who struggle with afflictions of mind and body. My hope is that the tunes, poems, and thoughts I share with you here will help you feel more normal. Because you are.
Love
Well Sister
P.S. The photo on top was taken on a rainy Spring day in Spain. It serves no other purpose but to beautify this welcoming address.