Fast Car

Brandon and I have been talking about a lot of things lately (surprise? I think not haha), which has gotten me thinking about a lot of thing in turn. I won't go airing all of our dirty laundry on my blog, or anything like that, but I will speak a bit just on my feelings on life (when do I not do this?).

(Video: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman)

I've always liked this song. Even as a kid, all of 11 or 12, this song really got to me. I know it gets to a lot of people. But in some ways, it reached me, even as my mind was starting to grow and realize things about the world around me. I realized all I wanted was a chance...a dream...a life...to be "someone." I knew the small corner of the world I was born and raised into wasn't enough to contain me, even as a kid. I wanted something else; something more. I was a dreamer and an idealist by preschool. By middle school, I could unabashedly add hopeless romantic to that list.

But, as much as I am all of those things, it doesn't make for an easy journey to achieve those things. I guess I never thought it would be easy, but I never thought it would feel impossible either. Of everyone I knew, I was the one who would go somewhere, do something, be someone. Have all those weird stories, see the world, have that unusual perspective on things, and none too shy to share that perspective. I wear everything about myself on my sleeve, always have. I live openly and honestly, and I feel like everyone should. Even if you're not loud about it, no need to hide either. But before I digress...

One thing that has always terrified me is the thought that I might just fade away into the crowd, and get lost. I don't mean a willing blending in and assimilation. I mean a forced and unwanted submission. Instead of taking my chance to live my life the way I wanted, and by my own rules and design, I would be forced into smothering that part of myself and falling in line. The one thing I want more than anything is to be able to live my dreams, and to live a life I can be proud of. I want to look back in the end and say, "I did it right."

In some ways, I feel like maybe I have. No, not maybe. I HAVE done it. I worked hard for it, too. With a little help and encouragement along the way, I made it. And you'd better bet your ass I'm proud of that. But ever since then it's been a fight to hang on to the strands of who I am, to live my life the way I want, and still maintain what's needed. Some days I feel like i'm caught in the grind. Other days I feel like maybe this isn't so bad. Others, I feel like I might be on the up and up. But overall, I feel like I've just been wanting nothing other than to hop in a "fast car" with a bit of money to my name, and just GO. Not abandon everything and everyone, but rather make that push to living the life I want for myself.

I feel like too many people have done themselves the disservice of not living on their own terms, and making their own lives. I refuse to be another casualty to the world around me. I've worked too hard to be as much.

But to come back to that song...because I've always had the image of a couple (I guess technically it's pretty clear). 2 people shoving off into life together, taking that risk together, and hoping. But, maybe it doesn't always work the way they hoped. Living on hope, that one day, things will be what they dream. It's a long, arduous process.I have an almost desperate need to know, one day, we'll "be someone." I don't expect an instant gratification, but I am waiting for the moment where I can turn around, look at everyone and say, "I told you I could do it." I'm not there yet, but I hope I will be. But, it's hard for me to find the words that explain the burning feeling I have; to tell you that this is such an intrinsic part of who I am and what I want from life, I can't simply ignore it, or compromise it. It's what fuels me and pushes me to continue onward.When I've had nothing, I had that. And it's hard to convey how strong that feeling is, at least for me.

You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so we can fly away?
We gotta make a decision
We leave tonight or live and die this way

So remember we were driving, driving in your car
The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I had a feeling that I belonged
I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

"I could not bring My passions from a common spring," -Edgar Allan Poe

Most days for me, at best, are even keel, with the rare good day. Today was the rare good day, for sure. (warning: Long post lol)

My ESL class was a lot of fun. They had some questions last class about holidays and seasons, and I decided to bring in The Nightmare Before Christmas​ for the class to watch, since it covers 2 holidays. We didn't finish it today, but it was neat listening to the ladies in my class discuss it (the convo was in Burmese, so I couldn't understand word for word, but listening to their inflection and whatnot, you can tell a lot), and repeat words they thought were important, to try and memorize them.

After was the first Language Service Network meeting, and I have to admit, I was pleasantly surprised to be there. It was a Who's Who of local services, non profits, and school systems...then me. No, I'm not downing myself, but I will say I almost felt like I was out of my league being there. But, it was a great meeting, and gave me a chance to talk to people, pick some brains (so to speak) and get involved. It was exciting, humbling, and interesting, all in the same go.

Between this, going back to subbing, and getting ready to pick up working with another organization helping teach literacy to adults, I have to say, I've been happier the last few weeks than I was for the last six months. Funny how something that seems bad in the moment, ends up being the boot in the ass you need to move on to something better, and something you really want. I've learned you don't always have to shoe horn yourself in to what people tell you to be. Doesn't make it bad, but rather than following "The Plan" (a phrase I got from a dear friend's mother​), follow YOUR Plan. We all work differently, and that's ok. The last few months have taught me a lot, and the last several weeks have put it into perspective.

I still struggle, daily, with finding self worth, and at the very least not letting depression get the best of me. It's hard. Most days I feel like I don't offer or provide enough. But, days like today feel like a pay off, and that maybe it's all worth it. I may not have a ton of money, or anything fancy to show for it, but I'm seeing more and more I don't need those things, either. Unfortunately, you need a little something to pay the bills, and support yourself, but beyond that, I guess I don't care. Other than maybe getting to travel once in a while.

I just want to be happy, feel like I'm leading a fulfilling life, and that I'm doing something positive for the world around me. I'm not motivated by a lot of the same things others are. More this and more that won't motivate me. But tell me I can have the kind of life I want, and tell me I can have a direct impact and help out, and you have my attention. I don't care if I make a ton of money. I care if I make a difference.

Square Peg in a Round Hole

The last few months were definitely a learning experience. Doing my infamous job hopping again, admittedly just trying to find the next best opportunity, I felt like maybe I was moving up just a smidgen. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I dunno, in retrospect but hey, live and learn right?

Without badmouthing or bemoaning anything, I had some time to think about things. As you're up and coming out of your early 20's, finishing college, and moving on in life, we're all told the next step is a full time 9-5 with benefits. Then you know you've made it. And you know, most of us, that's a very good next step. I was looking forward to it. I wanted some stability. I wanted insurance (without going into controversies about ACA and all that, hey, insurance is good). I wanted a 401(k) that actually matched. It all sounded like the good and right adult thing to want. It was the transition between a college kid at minimum wage, and adulthood.

I found out I kinda hated it. Not the job itself (ok the job itself, I was starting to get sick of but I'm not going there) necessarily, but the pattern. It wasn't working for me. I missed substitute teaching. I loved those kids, and I loved being able to use it as a chance to live and learn a bit more about where I want to go next in life (bit there in a sec). I also liked the flexibility of part time work. And now, with the ACA and all the resources out there in general, we're paying for benefits on our own. And I frankly prefer that, because now I won't feel like I'm tied to some job I dislike, because of the benefits. Even a 401(k) you can transfer or withdraw.

I feel a lot more free now, on the work front. We're taking care of ourselves, I start a new job Tuesday, I've already gotten back to teaching, and I have time and energy to volunteer. I get to do what I enjoy and frankly, between 2 jobs, I'm not worried about income. I still feel like I have more flexibility with 2 part time jobs than one full time. Time off? Sure! Set my own hours (more or less)? Sounds good! Work shorter shifts? Sounds good to me! And one of the jobs is commissioned base, like what I did at Sears. So, that said, even at part time, it pays better than most retail jobs. Oh and I'm part of management. That makes me happy.

I guess the whole lesson in this is, you have to find what works for YOU. Not do what everyone says you should do. You'd think I'd had that figured out already but, sometimes you gotta live and learn. Social standards, and making a pay check can be 2 very far removed things, and who doesn't want to live comfortably (not necessarily wealthy just comfortable). Living comfortably is more than just a paycheck, though it helps. It's about living life the way you want to. I was feeling like I could have no life outside of work, even if the money was (slightly) better. I want time to do the things I enjoy and live how I want to. I can plan summer trips to Kentucky and Tennessee, I can plan Ikasucon. I can fudge my teaching schedule to my work schedule so they don't conflict. And, I can even look at going back to school and not having to draw it out like I did before. THAT really makes me happy. For only needing a few classes, I didn't want to take forever to do it. Now, I may not have to.

So here's to the next step. May not be my beat all end all, but it's something. I really hope this works out.

Wow um...been a while folks!

I used to be so awesome at keeping up with blogging. I REALLY was. Almost daily. Now, every few months, seems I pop back in and say hey.

The odd thing is for me, when I'm writing, anything, I have to be extremely isolated and comfortable. Ever since coming home from Strasbourg, it's been hard to find that right setting. I know some people think that picky and particular, and maybe it is, but if there is one time I NEED my element it's when I'm working.

So anyway, I guess a bit of a rundown is in order.

November was...an interesting month, as it always is. This past November marked 5 years since Dad booted me out of the house, and I entered the last year of my 20's.

Odd to think of everything that has happened in the 5 years since, both good and bad: The struggling to survive, living in France, getting married, finishing school, struggling against major blows to my self esteem and goals, depression diagnosis, adopting a boatload of animals (ok, maybe not a BOATLOAD but several), *finally* driving on my own, and 2 wonderful nephews coming into my life. I am almost amused at how I got treated, and how things panned out. Dad never trusted me on my own. He never trusted that I could take care of myself. He never trusted that I knew what I was doing. Sure, I've had hiccups along the way, but who doesn't? It's called life, and we all take a few hard knocks. That's just part of the deal. Dad never thought I could make it on my own. I needed him to do everything for me (Honestly, I think he wanted to keep me dependent, so that way he felt "needed" and "wanted." Something sick about the male ego I suppose). So he went fucking crazy, trying to control everything, and now, in retrospect, that's what destroyed any relationship we had. It was the lack of being allowed to grow, and become my own person. Dad didn't allow me to have the same freedoms he so adamantly demanded that he was allowed to have out of his own life.

Frankly, I can't go back, nor do I want to. I mean, I really don't. I wouldn't call it hatred. If anything, it's apathy. And people look at me like I'm fucking insane when I say that. How can anyone NOT care about their parents? Well, when your parents don't give fuck one about you, it's pretty fucking easy. Oh and side note: shut up with the 10 commandments. I don't believe in that, so it really holds no weight with me. I mean if you do, cool, but it doesn't mean a thing to me.

Anyway, besides that, my birthday was nice. I went up to Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor to visit Beth, as my birthday present to myself. It was fun. Ann Arbor is really nice, and it was fun getting out of Fort Wayne for a while. And, I needed to get the hell out of here, BADLY. We all know just how much I love Fort Wayne. Haha! Also got to see one of the friends I made during my short stint in Americorps, Erin. It was so great seeing her too. I'd like to think we had a great time talking about all sorts of different things, and discussing social issues. I honestly can't wait for an excuse to go back and see people, and have fun.

Then ensues the holidays...which I hate, but it was better this year as, NO RETAIL. I didn't even have to work Black Friday. I stayed in my pajamas and played Xbox. And it was AWESOME.

December and January: Aside from my near constant Oscar The Grouch complaining levels on the subject of Christmas, it was nice. All the girls (me, my mother in law, and all 3 sister in laws) went to see the Nutcracker. Brandon's mom was nice and got everyone cookies and coffee before the show, and the show itself was enjoyable. My nephews found these foam swords they had, and Ben and I started playing with it. Which meant then Zach had to. Which meant then Aunt Eri had to buy said swords for the boys. Which meant THEN Zach thought it was a good idea to poke everyone in the butt with said swords. The saga of the swords ends with Aunt Eri then finding shields for $1 at Target with goofy looking wolf faces on them that Uncle Brandon joked were for House Stark. Because we're cool like that.

Christmas was nice. As much as I hate the holidays, it is always nice seeing my family. Even if I can't see all of them, I see who I can. New Year's Eve was fun too, since I got off early, and didn't work again for 2 and a half days. It's been more or less back to the grind though. Some days good, some days bad. Some days are just days.

My volunteer work at the YWCA has been going well. I teach every Thursday morning, which is fun. It has its challenges. My class is all Burmese, at all different levels. It makes things difficult, but they're a good group of people overall. They're REALLY trying, and it seems like what I have to tell them is sticking. That makes me happy!

Well I had probably better cut this off for now. Here's to hope that I keep up more regularly. A bientot, mes amis.

Sometimes, I wish...

Sometimes I wish I could look God, square in the face, and ask him:

"God...just what the fuck are you thinking?"

Yes, I would drop an f-bomb, in discourse with the Higher Power That Is. Why? Because whatever he's doing, he's REALLY making a mess of things.

But, maybe he's not thinking. That'd make things make a hell of a lot more sense.

Lemme have my Dean Winchester moment: So help me if you say God works in mysterious ways...

This isn't God working. And don't refute it with Satan over running blah blah blah...I used to believe that tripe, but the older I get, the less credibility it has. The way things go, it makes no fucking sense, and it REALLY isn't fucking fair.

Let me back up a bit, and at least shed some light on what is setting this off. Earlier this summer, a good friend of mine's mother passed away. It was sudden, to keep it concise. I was sad when I heard, but I didn't know how hard this would hit me, until I was at the funeral home, and saw her laying in the casket. I lost it. And I cried, and cried, and cried during the whole service. It was hard for a lot of reasons: This was someone I had known about 15 - 16 years, she treated me well, and she was there for me when my mother died. I had a lot of good memories of her and my friend, and some of the goofy, crazy, off the wall things she did. She was an unapologetic 60's child who lived every moment as loudly, brightly, and crazy as she could. And, on the personal end, this was the first friend I've helped through losing their mother. I always knew, in the back of my mind, this day would come, and it would suck. But like all times like this, you never know how bad they're gonna suck, til you're there.

The beginning of September, I found out an old high school friend passed away. THAT was a messed up situation. Out of respect, I won't name names, but I will say this is someone I always had good memories of. She and her boyfriend (later fiance) were always nice to me, and we always laughed and smiled, even ended up going to the same college. She was always super nice, and always smiling. That's what I remember.

So Facebook posts. She's talking about medical issues. Saying thanks for the prayers and the encouragement, here's to hope. Then her wedding gets pushed back. Ok understandable. The next post is from her sister, saying she's passed on. I didn't believe it when I read it.

She was supposed to be getting married, and going on her honeymoon! Instead, her family was burdened with having to bury her, and lay her to rest, instead of seeing her and fiance (very good guy) off on their life together. They buried her in her wedding dress

I got angry. I got REALLY fucking angry. I cried, and I threw a few temper tantrums. This REALLY is not fucking fair. And I admit, that anger is what is driving this.

Then, last Saturday, I get another call from a friend of mine I worked with at Sears. Her husband passed a week ago. He had been battling cancer. I only met him a few times, but she loved him dearly (this was her second marriage) and she fought hard for him. She took care of him, she did everything she could for him, he was her main priority, and that's how it should be.

This case, I knew he had only a short time left. I knew it months ago. So that call was less jarring in a way. When she called, I knew. She started off asking how my new job was, but that said, I knew why she really called.

This has been a rough year for me, in this regard. 3 funerals this year...I haven't had this kind of year in a while. Ever actually. And this is why I'm wondering just what the flying fuck is going on.

Yeah, yeah, yeah I know Death is part of Life. I get it. But ALL THREE of these deaths have been nothing short of tragic. All health issues. And no I am not turning this into a debate about our healthcare system either (and fuck off if you do). NONE of these people deserved what they got. At all. They were all good, kind, caring, loving, wonderful people. All of them.

And this brings me back to even thinking of my mom. Why in the hell is it all of the good ones are not just going, but go in horribly tragic ways? They don't fucking deserve it. It would make more sense to me at least, if it seemed things happened in a balance, but they don't. All this bad shit going on in the world, and the ones who suffer, are the ones who should be thriving (at least not going through the shit they are). The ones who are thriving, are fucking pricks, assholes, murderers, thieves, abusers, and the like. And fuck their couch. Seriously, I'm sick of how fucked up and twisted this world is. No good deed goes unpunished.

All we rationalize it with is "God." As if a three letter word and an Iron Age book make any fucking sense of it. We just chalk it up to that, and that seems to make it all ok. Screw. That. It's not a bloody fucking answer, it's just a platitude humans created to try and explain it all to themselves, so we can feel better about how shitty the world is. News flash: That. Doesn't. Fucking. Work. This world is still a fucked up mess, and we aren't doing much to fix it, either.

I'm sick of these platitudes. I want some real fucking answers. Something that makes some goddamn sense. Why did mom die, and dad got the chance to continue on and be an asshole? Why did an old friend of mine pass away, when she should've gotten married? Why did another friend, who treats me like one of her own, lose the husband she truly loved? Why did I have to watch one of my oldest friends go through what I went through, at still a very young age. FUCKING WHY?! I'm fucking sick of how it is, and I'm more pissed off I can't do anything about it. No, it's not up to me to save the world, but dammit I'd like to change something. I'd like to fucking understand it. I'd like to make it at least a little better.

Why the hell are those of us left to suffer and hurt? And why is there so little there to help us through? Life continues the fuck on, and sometimes you just want to stop, kick, scream, throw a fit, get angry, and crawl back into bed. This horrible, awful thing happened, and you have to keep marching on. Here, someone's husband died. Tough shit, keep calling about selling cars. Here, your friend's mom died, ok good, I can make the funeral, because I don't sell lawn mowers til later today! Here, all this bad shit is happening, you want to scream at the world, but no, put on a fucking smile and act like it's all fucking ok, even if it isn't. Sometimes, I want to stand in the middle of the road and cause a scene, and maybe I'd feel better. Does it solve anything? Maybe not, but maybe it will. Because maybe I can finally illustrate how I feel. Stopped traffic and made everyone else pissed. That's how i'm feeling, now do you fucking get it?

Like I said, this has been a rough few months for me. Three funerals since the end of June. Fucking three...I don't think there've been that many since my great uncle died in 2005. My grandma in 2007...and really only one or 2, more that I knew about, than going (save one, I just could not make which kinda bothers me honestly). It's been a rough year.

Why having a shitty retail job sucks, and it's not just about the wages.

I've been in retail since I finished high school. I have been a manager, I have been a cashier, I've been a cashier/clerk-expected-to-behave-like-a-manager-because-managers-suck-then-I-get-in-trouble-for-doing-their-jobs. I've been a hostess. I've done in home care. And you know...I can honestly say, these jobs suck the life out of you.

Ok, ok, before you start on the "but at least it's not..." I get it. But you know what? All those other shitty jobs (which probably are shittier than retail in some ways) also pay decent wages. So shut the fuck up. We aren't talking about that point, because it's irrelevant.

Like I said, this isn't just about wages. I could talk all day about that, and the expectations of the sales staff from the shitty hours (management won't even work) to the shitty pay to the lack of benefits, and so on and so forth. But everyone has talked about that. You can go look up articles with more thought and research to them than what I would put in here, so I'll leave you to Google so you can go look those up. I'm gonna talk about the shit that Google won't find as easily.

This shit wears on a person. From the asshole customers who have no respect for the employees, to the asshole management who have no respect for their employees, to the asshole employees who have no respect for their fellow employees...well...you get the pattern. It's the sheer lack of respect that is in the retail industry. I don't care if we're talking Walmart, of high end department stores. There is no respect for the people working in the jobs. And that's why it's so shitty.

Work holidays, work weekends, work nights, work several weeks in a row with no days off (illegal as fuck BTW). Keep your mouth shut for fear of losing your job. Don't defend yourself. Put up with being cussed out. Deal with people throwing money at you. Be on your feet all day. Deal with screaming children (nothing pisses me off more than these damn mommy blogs saying "Hey I get my kids annoy you...but you have to put up with it because..." No I fucking don't. I'm not a parent, teacher, or caretaker. Shut your kids the fuck up and fucking watch them). Deal with immature, rude, ungrateful adults. Deal with people looking down their nose at you. Any other job posts blogs about the utter shit they have to wade through (and there is a lot for sure), they get lauded and praised and respected for what they do for people. The people who work at the stores you shop at? Inconsequential.

In my experience, a good portion of these people in these jobs more than likely have a lot of education, work experience, and/or multiple jobs. They are busting their asses to make ends meet on fucking shit wages, and some of the succeed pretty well. Even without government assistance (I'm putting my husband and myself in this category...we don't make crap, but we live well).

Stop with the general disrespect and rude behavior. Fucking STOP. The people working these jobs are, in fact, human beings, with stories, lives, families, etc, just like someone working bankers hours. Stop treating us like we don't matter, and are insignificant, and not "As good as you." Fuck you. A good part of us aren't some stupid, ignorant, moronic assholes like you want to think we are. A lot of us are probably smarter than you. So stop being a fucktard, and start treating us like your momma taught you some manners.

Ok so now that I'm done swearing and ranting, why am I even talking about this? Here's the toll it takes on me.

My self esteem--mostly--is in the shitter. Why would it be, I mean, I have a job right? At least. Some people don't have that.

That's definitely true. I've had some struggles with joblessness and honestly, where I am working right now isn't too bad. There's some good days, there's some bad days, but hey you have that. Right? So I won't be too harsh on the company or the job. Honestly, those 2 things aren't the problem (most of the time). Even when they are, they aren't the biggest ones. So why the self esteem issues?

I worked my ass off for a long, long time, in school, and in my jobs. I took on more volunteer work than I should've, in the name of furthering my experience. I took extra classes, I studied overseas, I took jobs that I felt would get my foot in the door. I fucking worked hard for my degree. And I don't just mean my academics, but with what my dad did, I went through a lot. I worked a lot of hours at a day job, I put in a lot of time in class, I spent a shitload of time on homework. I pushed myself hard. I have a lot of experience for what I did, and I put my all into it...to wind up selling lawn mowers and trying to push repair agreements on them...to work for a manager who's the same grade of dickbag my dad is...to come out the other side of a dysfunctional home life to end up in another shit place.

Some days at work just suck. Nothing more, nothing less. Everyone has bad days. Some days, I look at myself and working where I do is a reminder of all the crap I went through. Not because it's a bad company or anything, but I look at my peers, who are in full time jobs, and in their desired fields, and you know...they came from decent families, with decent backgrounds and support and encouragement and parents who gave a shit. I feel like where I am now is a "symptom" of where I came from, and that drives me up a wall. I struggled, and fought, and well...the rich get richer (metaphorically or literally) and the poor get poorer. I feel like I failed somewhere along the way. If I had told my dad to fuck off, if I set myself up differently in school, if I hadn't been bullied, if mom hadn't gotten sick, if, if, if, if...

I don't expect hand outs or anything. I don't expect anyone to do anything for me. But, I also feel pretty hopeless. Like it won't get any better than this. I worked that hard, I struggled that much...for this. This is fucking it? Freaking really? This is all I have to look forward to for the next 40 years? So much for proving myself. So much for proving that I'm "better than that." So much for everything. This is all the better it's gonna get. Fuck this noise. I'm done. I want a fucking refund.

I'm tired of feeling worthless. I'm tired of working jobs where no one appreciates you at all. I'm tired of trying to please people who don't give a buttfuck less about me. I'm just, well, tired...

I think I'm going to end this here. I'm starting to ramble, and I've written enough.

Robin Williams, Depression, and All That Jazz

*fair warning: I get crass, rude, and potty-mouthed here...don't take it personally because it's not geared at any one particular person. I'm addressing the dumbassery that is American society. I also do not mean to bash religion or anyone's faith, I'm being critical of how religion was used against me.*

So, now that we've lost a much beloved celebrity to suicide, now we can talk about suicide, death, and depression openly and honestly, and it's not a taboo. Way to go humanity, you failed, and THIS is why.

No, no, no I'm not disrespecting Robin Williams' memory. Jesus Christ, who DIDN'T love the man? I watched Dead Poet's Society like it was a religious practice when I was in high school. Jumanji was a favorite in grade school. What 90's kid didn't ADORE Hook? BANGARANG!!!!!!!!! Flubber was adorable as hell. No one else could've done Good Morning Vietnam justice. Patch Adams reminds us that no matter how "insane" we are, beneath it, is a genius lurking. Robin Williams and Nathan Lane in The Birdcage is the CUTEST FUCKING THING EVER! I could go on forever but...it was a long day, I'm tired, and the point of this isn't to go on about his filmography. The man was pure gold, in so many ways.

One thing that resonated throughout his movies, to me anyway, was no matter how bad it got, no matter what you were going through, there was truth, and beauty, and laughter, and fun, and hope exist. There's something beautiful lurking in all of us, we just have to look for it. Sometimes it takes a little work, but for each and everyone of us, there is hope.

But despite the hope he gave us, and the laughter, and the joy, beneath it was a man struggling with so many inner demons. And after 63 years, he lost. But you know what, I'm impressed.

Right, right, I know...you're probably all "What the fuck are you saying Erika?" Well gimme 2 seconds and let me explain it. K? K.

I don't know everything about his struggle--no one but him ever did--but I know what my struggle has been. And that, I can and will talk about and hope maybe somehow this all comes full circle. Maybe this'll all make a little more sense.

Shame on each and all of us. Not just for Robin Williams' death, but for how we continue to treat mental illness, and how we treat those who suffer from us. Shame on each and everyone of us. We've dun fucked this whole thing up, more than a hooker on top, and maybe this was finally the slap in the fucking face we all needed.

I called off at my current job after only being there 2 months one day, due to an emotional break down (2 call offs in about a week and a half time span). Don't remember what caused it, stress probably, but who fucking cares. Point is, I was sitting on my living room couch, bawling and crying and freaking out with Brandon saying "Kitty you are NOT going into work today." I was a fucking wreck. But you know what...no way in hell that's a reason to call off work. Not a good one anyway. And you think I didn't know that?  You think it didn't drive me nuts? Because it did. But when you're dealing with diagnosed depression, having a break down like that is damn near the same as having the fucking flu, and puking your guts up. Except, guess what, they have vaccines for the flu. You can prevent that shit completely. Wash your hands for good measure, use Purell, and cover your mouth. That is ALL you have to do. Depression...guess what...I can't do shit.

But what about medication and therapy Erika? Well duh you dumbass, of course those are options. You think I'm a fucking idiot and didn't think about those things? That was the FIRST fucking thing I did. After sobbing on the phone with the national suicide hotline on New Year's Day after having a major emotional break down (worse that any that I've called in over...and I've skipped probably 3 - 4 shifts in the last 3 years due to these break downs). God bless that woman I talked to...and God bless people who do what she did. That phone call helped me get my head back on straight, and figure a few things out. Not everything, but enough to make the next step. Sometimes, that's all you need.

I've probably been battling some form or other of depression since childhood, but you know...when you're crying and angry at 5 years old, no one wonders if it's depression. Everyone says hey, you're a kid, you'll throw a fit and get over it. And most of the time, that's true. So whatever.

High school...it was a fucking terror. I had lost mom in 8th grade, I was grieving, I was a hormonal teenager, like we've all been at some point, and it was a fucking train wreck. Whenever I think of those 4 years, I just think of a deep, dark hole that swallowed me up. The amount of self hatred, self loathing, self destruction, and sadness I felt during those years was awful. And Freshman year at a private school...let me just say I will NEVER stick my kids in a parochial school system. NEVER NEVER NEVER. People wanna bitch about how bad public schools are? Please. I'd do public school any day. Those kids, in the name of Christ, were TERRIBLE little bitches, ho-bags, and assholes. High school started on a very bad foot, and it only got worse over those 4 years. I know most people hated high school, I won't deny that, but I know now, it wasn't just teen angst, there was something REALLY wrong.

And everyone only ever dismissed it. Be happy Erika, your faith should make you happy. Believers in Jesus are happy. Be happy because your mom suffered cancer and was happy. Be happy because your life is only just beginning. Be happy. Be happy. Be happy.

You know what? Fuck you.

If it wasn't being beaten over the head with reasons to be happy, it was someone telling me I only kept going in my depression (someone = my dad) to fish for compliments. Or someone was telling me I created problems and I needed to "suck it up and deal with it on my own" because I was "almost an adult." (someone here = my fatass bitch stepmother) Oh and when it came to grieving for my mom, I had no right. I lived with her longer than my brother, I didn't have a right to grieve. I had nothing to be sad about. Oh and he...he lost the love of his life. Poor guy could wallow in his pity all he wanted.

As long as I can remember, any feelings of sadness, anger, hurt...I was told wasn't legit for some asinine reason. Faith was ramrodded down my throat. My face was rubbed in my mother's memory. But never once did anyone offer any help. And when it got REALLY bad (i remember having a freak out when I was 19 - 20 and my brother was on the receiving end, and I looked at him and screamed that I felt like I had nothing, and another one I had around my dad on my way to work and looked at him and quoted AFI, saying "My life is a dark room."), there was never, ever, anyone there for me. No one was ever there to tell me it's ok, to console me, and tell me the way I was feeling wasn't wrong, it wasn't a sin, it was something some people go through, and struggle against.

Depression was a dirty word. Depression was a state of mind, and--here comes the religion--true believers didn't deal with it because Christ conquers all. Dafuq kind of solution is that? That doesn't solve a goddamn thing. All that train of thinking did was pummel me further down, because all I ended up thinking was I was a lousy Christian and a lousy person for not being happy all the time. Gee fucking thanks. That didn't solve anything.

College, I worked so fucking much I didn't have time for it. Not once I got going full time and I was nearing 22 (a bit more grown up, but still a kid). It was there, but, I was preoccupied. And I met Brandon. And I did some cool shit along the way. Lots of stress, but lots of fun too. Then I got kicked out of the house. And Brandon and I broke up. And tons of other stupid shit. Then Brandon and I got back together. Then France. (the one time in my life I was *actually* happy) Then I came home and got married...

And that was when everything came crashing in and I realized I had a huge fucking problem. I needed to get into therapy, maybe even try medications. I needed to do something, or I was going to self destruct. I couldn't do this. I couldn't handle it anymore.

That's what depression is. It will fucking eat you alive if you let it. Depression isn't just having a bad day. It's not getting up on the wrong side of bed. Depression is...it's a deep dark whirlpool that tries to suck you down. And the shitty part is? There. Is. Nothing. You. Can. Do. No matter how good of a day you've had, no matter how wonderful your life is, everything is dark, and gloomy, and you just cannot for the life of you muster up the give a damn or the smile for even a good day. As I sit here trying to put words on it, I realize it's damn near impossible for me to convey just how awful this has been. This has been a life long fight, trying to will myself to continue on; trying to convince myself that life isn't so bad, that it'll all be ok. When bad things do happen, they hit me a thousand times harder than they hit an average person (at least someone not combating depression of any sort). That's why I fly off the handle like I do. I feel like every bad thing, is one more reminder of how horrible, and awful I am, and how little I deserve to be here. It's not just shit happens. Not for me anyway.

Every day is a fight. Some days I have to fight to get out of bed (and I mean more than I keep slapping the alarm because HEY I don't work til 4!). Some days I have to fight to smile. Some days I have to fight to remind myself there IS a reason to keep on trying. No matter how fucking small, there is a reason. And, keeping that reason...is a fucking bitch to do.

I read an article the other day (most used phrase in my vocab now I swear lol) about suicide and Robin Williams. I'll link properly at the end just to be credible, but this part struck me:

"Suicide is a decision made out of desperation, hopelessness, isolation and loneliness. The black hole that is clinical depression is all-consuming. Feeling like a burden to loved ones, feeling like there is no way out, feeling trapped and feeling isolated are all common among people who suffer from depression.

People who say that suicide is selfish always reference the survivors. It's selfish to leave children, spouses and other family members behind, so they say. They're not thinking about the survivors, or so they would have us believe. What they don't know is that those very loved ones are the reason many people hang on for just one more day. They do think about the survivors, probably up until the very last moment in many cases. But the soul-crushing depression that envelops them leaves them feeling like there is no alternative. Like the only way to get out is to opt out. And that is a devastating thought to endure."

This. Fucking this. I have had days where literally, my ONE reason to hang on is my cat, Clover, because I know if there is one being who would not know what to do if I was gone, it's her. She's my little miracle cat. I've never had an animal latch on to me like she does, and I'll be damned if i lose her any time soon.

But don't tell me it's just a bad day. It's not. It's a day in and day out struggle to survive, most days. Especially now...all I feel like on an average day is a burden. A dead weight. That one fucked up element to the existence of any and everyone close to me. Were it not for me, things would be so much better. But no...I'm here, and I've just gone and fucked it all up for you.

Do you understand how soul crushing that feeling is? To feel like single-handedly, you drag the entire environment around you down? Do you know what it is to feel that every day and feel like there is no answer to the question, short of cutting off your own existence? Have you ever even thought about the fact people feel this way?

I was diagnosed with Dysthymia. AKA low riding, long term depression. No manic mood swings, just an ever persistent feeling of worthlessness, hopelessness, and pessimism. No matter what you do, it will never go away. Medication maybe balances it out, but nothing can stop it. And the kicker is, with the disorder I was diagnosed with, you have to have a consistent pattern lasting MINIMUM of 2 years before that diagnosis can be given. TWO YEARS. Before anything can be done. Most people, from my understanding, suffer longer than that before getting help. And that, is what I call agony.

I will be honest, I don't know how long I will hang on. I am, for now, sometimes it feels like by a thread. I got my Granny's stubbornness, and sometimes I think that's what keeps me off the edge, more than therapy or drugs could. But how long will that last? How long can I make it? Will I make it to whatever date was decided for me the day I was born, or will I decide to end it before then? No matter what I do, I have to live with this the rest of my life which what could be 50 more years? 80 years of this. Who wants to go through that? Who wants to put themselves through that?

And that is why I am impressed that Robin Williams made it 63 years. He survived his demons for that long. Long enough to make us laugh, cry, think, and feel, and to be a husband, and a daddy, and win awards for all of it. They say those of us who hurt the most, also laugh and smile the most. Even today at work, I was told "at least you're happy and still laugh." And I do...I giggle over everything. Always have. But if you knew the pain I carry with me, daily, behind that laughter and smile...I think you might have a glimpse into the world of Robin Williams. He smiled and laughed more beautifully than any of us ever could.

Article: "There's Nothing Selfish About Suicide" http://www.huffingtonpost.com/katie-hurley/theres-nothing-selfish-about-suicide_b_5672519.html