July 2, 2010

After settling into the idea that I would have to cope with and face my wall of sadness, the weight of carrying it with me everywhere I go has lessened, even if only slightly. I also opened up a little more to Ryan about the issue. Not by choice, but to explain my recent frustration so he could attempt to understand, or at least know why things have felt distant lately between the two of us. Truthfully, I got the idea about facing and coping with the wall of sadness from Ryan, as he told me a few weeks ago that I couldn't move into a shelter just because of tension in my current living situation, as my mom is staying with me and my brother, indefinitely.

LIZ: I know I'm 26, but when I'm around her I still feel like a juvenile little girl.
RYAN: Well you're not. You're both adults. You have to address your issues with
her staying in the house and how you raise Adam.
LIZ: Can't I just move into a shelter instead? You know, start over fresh and build
something from the ground up for me and Adam on my own.
RYAN: No.

So I took his advice and asked for more hours Starbucks in order to save up money to either move Adam and I out on our own, or to buy a new car in a few months. In other words I've set up my [hopefully] temporary residence at the wall of sadness while I make and/or wait for my depression to subside. I've got to admit, the scenery near the wall of sadness is barren and mundane. Every morning I wake up and get ready for work, I have to pep talk myself into a good mood. It's a nagging feeling, this depression, and makes me feel like a complete mess most of the time. Once my day actually starts, I stay in pep talk mode and keep myself calm since I increased my cigarette intake to roughly a pack of cigarettes a day. I also started taking my lunch breaks at work to give myself extra time to smoke and allowing me a break from the forced chipper-ness I have to play at work.

When I get off work, I come home and try to stay out of my mother's way and spend time with Adam. After Adam goes to sleep my stress chases me wildly, forcing me to climb the wall of sadness. Then just before bed, I repeat the same pep talk I give my myself in the morning, and reassure my psyche that it will have time to rest for a few hours if I sleep. Half the time I'm telling my brain the truth and I sleep through the night. The other half of the time I'm a complete pathological liar and I wake up in the middle of the night from night terrors and nightmares.

RYAN: I feel completely disrespected you think I'm a liar and you still think that I don't love you. Look, I'm not one of your druggie, loser ex-boyfriends! And I know that you've never been with a real man before but...
LIZ: I don't think you're a liar. I just have some problems I'm trying to work out on my own.
RYAN: Your problems are my problems.
LIZ: Well then...we have a lot of problems.

Despite the other half of the time, hanging around the wall of sadness has made me a more honest individual. I know this because I'm slowly learning how to openly admit to my plague of depression. Coping with it isn't fun, but at least I've gained some sort of handle on it instead of running from it. Trust me, I'd much rather be hanging out at a different wall, like the Great Wall of China or even the torn down Berlin Wall.

Maybe if I spend enough time around my wall of sadness, I can figure out a way to turn it into something great, like art or tear it down altogether?

Until then my stagnant wall of sadness will stand.



July 5, 2010

In the shower this afternoon, I came to an exciting revelation! My decision to hang around the wall of sadness and deal with it was part of the final stages of grief, helping me to move on with my life. It's not so much sadness, but rather the stage called ACCEPTANCE. I suppose you could say that I haven't been grieving solely the loss of other people in the past 365 days, but I've been grieving my own death as well.

Standing naked in the shower, I closed my eyes as I leaned into the warm water falling from the shower head and rinsed out the shampoo from my hair. When I opened my eyes, I looked at my surroundings and for a moment, I was so completely lost in thought, I didn't recognize where I was at. I surveyed the shower liner and the blurry view outside of my cubed glass bathroom window. I pulled the shower curtain back and looked down at the brick red tiled floor. Slightly startled, I quickly shut the curtain and searched for the conditioner bottle, hurried through the lather, rinse, repeat routine and turned off the shower. Then I stepped out of the bath tub and grabbed the green towel off the edge of my sink and immediately wiped off the steam from the bathroom mirror.

I finally realized who I was and where I was, now.

I am no longer the naive little girl who built her life around tragedies and dangerous situations and people. Despite the fact that I grew up around these things doesn't mean I have to continue to emulate them in my life. Just because something is familiar, predictable and comfortable doesn't make it safe. Happiness can be found in the depths of the unknown. You just have to have the courage to face it all, the light and the dark, and embrace it to the fullest.

So where do I go from here, now that the wall of sadness has been knocked down?

I have no idea.

I can ACCEPT that.


Is this a dream?
You ask and I don't say anything
Because this may be
A dream.
And we come to this place
Like two convicts that have escaped
From the prison of everyday
And for the moment we'll have our stay
--Drilling/ Minus the Bear