Words are everywhere. We use them for everything. Authors are lauded for their ability to manipulate them and people seek therapy when they aren’t able to find the right ones… Dave Barry (YAY for Haverford alumni), a favorite columnist of mine, wrote a piece once when his son was about to take the SATs. I actually have tried desperately to find the full article but I believe it was written in the pre-internet days and is therefore part of some back-country Google resource site that I just can’t find at the moment. Therefore, you will just have to trust me (if you can find it, please send it to me because, more than just for the sake of providing proof, I have been wanting to read it again. Regardless, it’s way too good for me to have just made it up).
The following is dedicated to the people in my life who have made life worth living. Yes, always, but most importantly recently.
Something I have discovered recently is that I have one of the most valuable and enviable things a human can possess – true friends – people who are worth celebrating and who celebrate me in return.
This is a song for anyone with a broken heart
This is a song for anyone who can’t get out of bed
I’ll do anything to be happy
Oh, ’cause blue skies are coming
But I know that it’s hard
I’d recommend hitting play on some of these videos as you work your way through this post. These songs, among many others, have been another of the anchoring truths I have clung to during this time of, shall we say, transition. Those of you who know me well, will not be surprised by how much music has meant to me over the past two months. Music, regardless of the situation, is vital to me… But I find in times of strife it can be one of the most effective catalysts toward healing.
I thought, when posting recently about the birth of this writing outlet, on my personal Facebook page, that it would maybe garner some small interest from those who have been emotionally invested in the situation following “The Day”… No offense to any of you, but I never expected the outpouring of love and support I have received across platforms. I know all of you are wonderful and supportive people, but what’s one more sob story in a world experiencing so many right now? I am overwhelmed and cannot thank you enough for your compassion. Each kind word has greatly helped silence the little destructive bastards who have taken up residence in my chest (and brain) and I am eternally grateful to call you friends (yes, even the family members are friends, it’s an important distinction).
So… the first thing I have had to address in using my personal stitch cutter to delicately separate my life from the one I had aligned myself with over the past decade is establishing the things over which I have a full hold and vested interest, and which ones I need to either dismiss or reclaim based on the one-third of my life which is now, for lack of a better term, of the very aggressively and decided past. For example, I want to reclaim Iceland, the place of our honeymoon, because it was actually a transformative experience for me personally. It was the first time, in years, that I felt like a normal person because I had finally taken control of my mental health and decided to begin a regime of medication. So, Iceland was a world and experience lived in color again… a world which, despite my best efforts previously, had finally regained some scope and depth, one in which I could actually feel hope and happiness rather than trying to make myself rationally reach those outcomes through aggressive mental calisthenics. I associate this amazing change with one of the most important events a couple can experience, a celebration of “the happiest day” a couple will plan and execute. I assume you see the conundrum? Yes, I did something for the betterment of my relationship (not being depressed as all hell) but it was also for me that I made that change. That is how I now need to approach every thing that has become an aspect of my life because of the influence of that *other* person I, apparently mistakenly, chose to call my love.
I have of late, (but wherefore I know not) lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition; that this goodly frame the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o’er hanging firmament, this majestic roof, fretted with golden fire: why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god, the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals. And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so.
– William Shakespeare (Hamlet: Act 2, Scene 2)
Insomnia has plagued me for the better part of two months now. It was something I struggled with before, but the day my life changed… that day definitely has been weighing on me… causing many a sleepless night and multiple instances of beautifully bruised and puffy eyes from lack of sleep and a maybe a few leaked tears. Hell, I am not too proud to admit that. Which is why I think it’s appropriate that I am keying this, my inaugural post, in the quiet time just before dawn. Even now, my lovable douche bag of a cat is fixing me with some serious side eye from his curled position at the foot of my bed because I have the audacity of interrupting his 18th hour of sleep for the day… though I guess we are technically in a new day so the tally has reset and I am ruining his stats. My bad, little dude (don’t worry, this post is about your namesake, so it’s still all about you).
But I digress…