When Things Fell Apart

I haven’t been blogging that much lately, and there’s a reason for that. Lots of them, actually. When I started blogging, it was all about being funny, making myself and other people laugh and recording the adventures I shared with my wonderful friends. And then just over a year ago, things started changing. I lost my job, my relationship came to an end, I moved from a big beautiful house to a one room not so beautiful place, could not find a job, had a number of potential projects fall through and I spent the better part of the year sliding in and out of a depression that was sometimes paralytic. Everything I thought I had and knew about my life fell completely apart in that time. There was nothing to rebuild or repair, I had to start all over again, from scratch. I thought I would go crazy. I cried a lot, the really-big-ugly-mascara-running-down-the-face-cry. I spent more time alone this past year than I probably have in the past decade. It was often all I could do just to get out of my bed in the morning, an at times I failed at that. I rarely had the energy to be funny or witty and I am sure for the people that were actually in my company, I have not been very much fun at all. Most of the outward fun that people saw was more smoke and mirrors than a true reflection of anything going on inside. I avoided responding to emails and messages on Facebook. I ignored SMSes from people and just tried to hide away. I wasn't trying to be rude, I just didn't know what to say.

I have had people tell me I should just write what is true, what is real, but the fact is, I didn’t want anyone to see. I was embarrassed. I also didn’t want people to worry, and the people that did know what was going on, I didn’t want them to worry more. I don’t know what depression is like for others, but for me it is a very dark and grim place, and when I do something I like to make sure I do it really well and over the top, even if it is not a good thing. There were times I didn’t think I would make it, but I did. I am.

Now things are coming around, improving and looking up. I have learned a lot about myself and people in the past year. Lessons I would probably never have personally chosen to have, but now that I feel I can actually start breathing again, I am grateful. The hardest thing I have learned is to ask for and accept help. It is not an easy thing for me. The prideful person in me would rather starve than ask someone for food. I was raised to be self-sufficient and independent, and while those are great qualities, I have learned they can also work against a person. I would not have made it through without the help from a few wonderful people who were there and a couple who even threatened to knock down my door and drag me out kicking and screaming if that is what it took. I won’t name them here as they would yell at me, but they have my gratitude and unconditional love. I hope I am more compassionate, more understanding and patient. I hope I am a better friend and better partner. I hope I am a better person.

Today, at this moment, I am feeling good. I am feeling more like myself, but like a self I never really knew before, or maybe I wasn’t before.

Slowly, I feel like laughing, really laughing.